Page 90 of One Last Shot

Axel grinned. “Nice to be the one dishing it out.” He glanced at Moose.

“Yeah, well, maybe that,” Oaken said. “But also maybe...” He exhaled. “It’s my fault my sister died.” And maybe he did need that whiskey. “You guys have any chocolate milk?”

“Milk’s in the fridge, hot cocoa mix in the pantry. Knock yourself out,” Moose said.

Oaken got up and found the milk.

“Why is it your fault? Did you make the storm? Cause her to go into the ditch?” Axel said. Clearly the man knew the details.

Oaken shut the refrigerator door. “No.” He turned to them. “But I did tell her that I hated her. That she was selfish and that she should leave. Oh, and this was on Christmas day—that’s a fun memory.”

“Oaken. We all say things we don’t mean,” Moose said.

Oaken reached for the cocoa.

“But based on your earlier words, you meant it.”

He scooped in chocolate and stirred, not looking at Moose.

“And now you think God is punishing you.”

“I would.”

“Good thing you’re not God.”

Oaken looked up.

“First, God doesn’t punish other people forsomethingwe’vedone. He’s not going to take Hollie’s life because you let anger have its way.”

Oh.

“Second, the world is broken. Storms happen. Accidents happen. And people die. We can’t escape that. So the question is—how are we to respond to that?”

He leaned a hip against the counter. Took a sip of milk.

“You can blame God,” Moose said as Axel ate his sandwich, “and go it alone. Or you can trust that God loves you and that he’ll carry you through the storm.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve considered that God loves me.” Oaken walked over to his own sandwich.

“You’re here, aren’t you? With us?” Moose slapped him on the shoulder. “God is not content leaving us in our lies. He wants to set us free, and he’ll keep running after us, in every storm, trying to get our attention.”

Oaken looked at him. Then, “Okay, fine. He has it.”

Moose gave him a small grin. “I think he’s had it for a long time. He started something in you, Oaken, when you jumped out of that plane. And I don’t think he’s done yet.”

From the counter, a buzzer sounded, and Moose got up and headed to the source.

“You still use a pager?”

He picked it up. “Alaska.” Then he headed into his office.

“I probably should have warned you before you moved in,” Axel said. “Moose loves these get-in-your-face conversations.” Axel sopped up the last of his ketchup with his bread. “Just glad I’m not the only target.”

Moose came out of the room. “That was Deke Starr, up in Copper Mountain. The ski resort has lost a group of skiers and needs our help.”

Axel slid off the stool, carried his plate to the sink.

Oaken didn’t move.