Someday: 3 (Sunrise) (28 page)

The boy praying stopped midsentence, and everyone opened their eyes and looked.

By then, the man had his back to them, flying from the SUV, holding up his hand as he ran toward the wrecking crew. “Stop! Wait!”

The workers continued as if they couldn’t hear the man or didn’t care.

Still the man ran toward the theater. Soft gasps came from the members of the prayer circle. Parents put their arms around the shoulders of their kids, and a couple of moms covered their mouths, too surprised to speak.

Bailey watched with the others. She was shivering harder than before, stunned at what she was seeing. Both police officers went into alert at the sight of a man running toward the site. They met him near the curb, and an animated conversation broke out.

Bailey held her breath. Whispers came from her friends and their families surrounding her. All of them wanted to know the same thing. Who was the man, and why did he think he had any control over the demolition? A minute passed, and one of the police officers escorted the man to the lead worker, the one with the megaphone. Another conversation took place, and the man in jeans pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket. For what seemed like forever, the supervisor stared at the paper the strange man had given him. Then he waved at his fellow workers, calling them over and creating an impromptu group conference.

“What’s happening?” Connor leaned close to her.

“I don’t know.” Bailey moved forward, making the circle smaller so she could draw from the warmth of Connor and Tim on either side of her.

“The guy looks familiar.” Tim was shivering too. “Don’t you think?”

“Maybe he’s an angel.” Connor squinted, trying to see what was happening.

Around the circle, the adults began speculating in whispered voices. Whatever was happening, it had put a sudden and dramatic end to the actions of the wrecking ball. Another minute passed and the supervisor nodded. Even from across the street, Bailey could see that the guy was smiling as he shook the stranger’s hand.

The supervisor lifted the megaphone to his mouth and pointed at the man behind the controls of the wrecking ball. “Lower it! We’ve got a change in plans.”

Almost immediately, the controller set to work on a panel in front of him, and the huge ball lowered harmlessly to its original position.

Passersby seemed to sense something big was happening. People stepped out from local businesses, and a crowd formed along the sidewalk across from the theater.

The group of kids and parents erupted into a mass of cheers and shouts and spontaneous hugs. God had granted them the miracle they’d asked for, and Bailey couldn’t stop the tears from falling onto her freezing cheeks. Whatever had happened, the theater wasn’t going to be torn down—at least not this morning.

One by one, the men in hard hats climbed into their trucks and cars and drove off. The stranger stayed, still talking to the supervisor. A few minutes later, the supervisor left, and after that, the wrecking ball was backed off the theater grounds and loaded onto a flatbed truck.

As the truck pulled away, Bailey looked at the spot where the man’s SUV had been parked. “Hey . . .” She felt her head start to spin. “His car’s gone.”

With the crowd gathered and the traffic slowed to a crawl around the theater, Bailey hadn’t noticed the stranger leave the site and return to his vehicle. Now his SUV was gone, and they hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to him or thank him. She looked at the faces around her. “Did you see him leave? Did anyone see him?”

Tim shook his head, and a few of the parents exchanged looks of astonishment. Whoever he was, he’d come at just the right time and taken part in a dramatic answer to their prayers.

Across from Bailey on the other side of the circle, her father cleared his throat. “Let’s thank our God.”

Again they held hands, this time with an electric excitement pulsing through the crowd. Some of the passersby wandered in their direction. An old woman wrapped in a wool coat and scarf, a group of young businessmen, and a family who’d been driving by moved closer to the circle, and as Bailey’s dad bowed his head and started to pray, the strangers around them prayed too.

“God, we have no way to thank You for what just happened. We don’t understand it.” He paused, and Bailey could tell he was choked up. “We only acknowledge that without You, the theater would be gone by now. So we thank You. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Then, as easily as they drew their next breaths, the CKT kids began to sing. Softly at first, with shaky voices, and then with a sound that rose confidently toward heaven, filling Bryan Park and drawing more people closer. “‘I love You, Lord . . . and I lift my voice to worship You . . . O my soul, rejoice! . . . Take joy, my King, in what You hear. . . .’”

The song built and grew, and the people of Bloomington who had stopped to listen joined in, some with tears in their eyes. Something very special had just happened, and though none of them knew exactly what or whether the demolition might still be rescheduled, they knew this:

God reigned.

The CKT group gave one another one more round of hugs and smiles before heading for their cars. Bailey and Connor walked together, their parents a few feet in front of them, talking with the Shaffers. Tim Reed had driven his own car and parked it on the other side of the theater, so he was no longer with them.

“You know what I think?” Connor looked over his shoulder at the theater.

“What?” Bailey wasn’t shivering anymore. Her heart felt light and free, as if anything truly was possible for those who believed. She reached up and put her arm around Connor’s shoulders. He was taller than her now, but he’d always be her little brother.

Connor turned back to her. “I think he was an angel.” His expression was intently serious. “I mean, he shows up out of nowhere and stops the wrecking crew.” He snapped his fingers. “Then poof . . . just like that he’s gone.”

Bailey gave him a look that said maybe. Angels were real, after all, and what had happened this morning defied any earthly logic.

Bailey brought it up on the way home, and her parents acknowledged that yes, the Bible confirmed the reality of angels.

“There’s a verse in Hebrews.” Her father glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Thirteenth chapter. It says be careful to entertain strangers, for by doing so, some people have entertained angels without knowing it.”

“Wow!” Connor slid to the edge of his seat and gripped his dad’s shoulder. “That’s the coolest thing. I never heard that before.”

Bailey had read it sometime a few years ago, but she’d never given the Scripture much thought. The idea sent a new kind of wonder over her, and by the end of the day—after getting to school late and taking her math test, after coming home and learning that the whole town was buzzing about what seemed to be a change of plans by one of the city’s top developers—she could do nothing but believe that maybe angels didn’t wear flowing robes and have golden wings.

Maybe they wore blue jeans and a baseball cap and drove an SUV.

Ashley hung up the phone and gave a victory shout so loud that Devin responded with one of his own. Ashley laughed. “That’s right. . . . Thank God for answered prayers!” She caught her breath and tried to decide what to do first. Landon! Of course! She needed to see him right away, needed to tell him about the conversation before she forgot a single detail.

“Devin, baby, let’s take a ride.” She swept her son out of his high chair, kissed his forehead, and hurried to the closet for his coat. She grinned at him as she fastened his zipper. “Our first big Christmas present just came through.”

Fifteen minutes later, in a swirling cloud of snow, she pushed through the doors of the fire station and carried Devin to the back room. Landon was sitting by himself on a worn sofa, reading a magazine, but when he looked up and saw Ashley and Devin, he jumped to his feet. His face was suddenly marked with fear and concern.

Ashley held up her hand and laughed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s okay.” She set Devin down, walked to Landon, and hugged him long and hard. “You aren’t going to believe this! I had to tell you in person.”

Landon looked dazed, as if Ashley had suddenly and certainly become a crazy woman. “You drove through a snowstorm?”

Ashley glanced out the window and dismissed the weather with a flip of her hand. “It just hit. It’s not that bad.” She gripped his shoulder and took hold of Devin’s hand with the other. Together the three of them sat down on the edge of the sofa. “This is huge, Landon! God wasn’t finished yet, remember? Like you said the other day.”

Devin moved from her lap onto Landon’s. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and stared at Ashley. “Happy!” His singsong voice was slurred, but clearly he was enjoying the moment.

“Yes, baby . . . Mommy’s very happy,” Ashley cooed at him. If only her mother could see what a darling little boy he was growing up to be.

“No one could ever accuse you of lacking passion, Ash.” Landon was used to slowing Ashley down, and now he grinned at her, shaking his head. “Wait, so who’d you talk to?”

“Reagan called me this morning. You won’t believe it.”

Landon tucked his arm around Devin’s waist and settled back into the sofa. His eyes were warmer than a summer day on the lake, but they were also laced with humor. “I’m sure I won’t.”

Ashley could feel her eyes dance, but she ignored his teasing. Instead she plunged into the story, starting at the beginning, the way she’d had to with Katy the other day. “Okay, so I’m making Devin breakfast this morning and Reagan calls. Apparently Luke finally opened his copy of the scrapbook with Mom’s letters. He took it home to his little apartment, sat at the kitchen table, and read the whole thing. Cover to cover.”

The details spilled out, with Ashley taking only the necessary breaths. Reagan’s voice had been tearful, and it took half an hour for her to get to the point, but Ashley didn’t mind. This was about her brother, one of her best friends in the world.

After Luke finished reading the scrapbook, he’d gotten in his car, driven straight to his house across town, and knocked on the door. When Reagan answered, she saw him on her front step crying. Weeping, even.

“He told her he was so sorry and that he wanted them to get counseling.” Ashley’s eyes were wide. “He told her he needed help but he needed her too, and guess what she said?”

“What?” Landon was bouncing his knee, keeping Devin entertained.

“It wasn’t altogether good, but it was better than silence.” Ashley pushed her dark hair back from her face. “She told him she hadn’t been innocent either, but she’d been thinking about little Sarah. She didn’t want to waste the days and months and years in her life hating Luke or being haunted by bitterness.” She held out hands. “Can you believe that? From a woman who a week ago wasn’t willing to make a phone call to save her marriage.”

Landon smiled, a joyful knowing on his face. “That’s amazing.”

She explained how Luke didn’t hesitate, even when Reagan admitted that she’d been guilty too. Instead he hugged her for a long time, with snow falling around them. “Reagan told me they weren’t ready for happily ever after, but get this. . . . Luke’s moving back home this weekend! Isn’t that so great?”

“He is?” Landon stood and let Devin down on the floor. Their toddler beelined across the room, with Landon hurrying after him. “That’s half of what we prayed for, right?”

“Right.” The reminder cast the slightest shadow over the thrill of the moment. Luke and Reagan were back under one roof, but Ashley still hadn’t heard anything from Katy and Dayne. Even if they were trying to fly home from their separate locations, they might not make it. The Indianapolis airport was predicting a shutdown sometime tomorrow because of the blizzard moving in. Ashley frowned as she watched Landon and Devin chase each other across the floor of the firehouse.
If they’re trying to fly home, please, God, let them make it. They need to be together.
Then and there Ashley committed herself to praying all day and into the next for her older brother and his wife. Whatever it took, because she believed so completely in seeing Sarah’s miracle take place. The entire miracle. Which meant they needed to keep praying until they heard from the couple.

Because Christmas was only one week away.

Katy’s was the last plane allowed into Indianapolis before the blizzard shut down the airport to all travelers. They touched down at five in the morning Wednesday, and Katy caught a Town Car back to Bloomington. She was grateful, and as she climbed inside, she prayed for safe travel. She had to reach Dayne, even if it meant walking through snowdrifts.

She was practically bursting with the news, but she wouldn’t call him in Los Angeles until morning his time. That would give her the chance to get home, unpack, and catch her breath. The whirlwind of emotions that had surrounded her since Ashley’s phone call was something she would have to work to put into words.

Getting out of the airport was an ordeal, and Katy winced as the driver swerved and nearly hit someone in the adjacent lane. She closed her eyes, exhausted and anxious.
God . . . get me home. That’s all I want now. Please get me home.

I am with you, daughter. . . . Fear not
.

The words came right from Scripture, from a number of verses where God wanted His people to be comforted by the most obvious truth—He was with them in the storm, the way He’d been with His disciples on the stormy lake or when all hope seemed lost at the house of his friends Mary and Martha. He was with Katy and she needn’t be afraid. Even here, on a wintry ride across Indiana.

Katy sank back into the plush leather seat and pulled her Bible from her bag. She wasn’t sure what was happening, why Dayne hadn’t tried harder to reach her or how she could’ve missed the signs. But God was up to something big, and Katy had resigned her pride on the matter. If Dayne was innocent, so be it. They needed to talk and make a plan.

But she couldn’t write her marriage off that easily. Especially not in light of the news she’d just learned.

She turned to 2 Chronicles 20. Growing up a Christian, Katy had many times heard people tossing around the idea that the battle belonged to the Lord. A nice thought, she used to tell herself. It gave her a picture of handing her troubles over to God and letting Him deal with them.

But when she was in college, she stumbled upon 2 Chronicles and the Bible story behind the wonderful truth. Jehoshaphat and God’s people were in big trouble, facing the most terrifying battle of their lives. In many ways, it seemed that they should give up, turn themselves over to the enemy, and pray for fewer casualties that way. But God told them otherwise. Katy’s favorite part of the story came in verse 15: “Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God’s.”

Wasn’t that exactly how she felt? The media and public opinion formed a vast army directly opposed to Katy and Dayne. But the two of them belonged to God, which meant they didn’t have to fear the outcome. God would fight the battle for them.

Katy read past the battle scene to the most exciting part. While the people were singing and praising God, He set traps for the approaching army, and the enemies of His people were defeated. That last part always struck her, maybe because of her years with CKT, performing musical theater.

She closed her eyes and pictured the way her CKT kids used to gather in the basement of the theater before each show, holding hands and singing “I Love You, Lord” a cappella. The group had accomplished some remarkable feats—forgiving the young drunk driver who had taken the lives of their friends and forming friendships that defied stereotypes.

And of course. Because God’s Word made it clear that His people can find victory in the praising and singing.

Katy stared out the window at the rolling snowdrifts on the side of the highway. The victory came through praise, but why was that? The question stayed with her. How did the act of praising God set a person free from the battle she faced? She pondered the possibilities, and as she did, she began to hum her favorite hymns quietly, so only she could hear them. “Amazing Grace,” “How Great Thou Art,” and half a dozen others, until finally the answer presented itself clearly.

While she hummed, while her mind was taken up with the lyrics of the old hymns, she was unable to worry or doubt or fret in any possible way. A truth rose to the surface of her heart. Praising God was an act of trust, a way of putting aside the cares and troubles of this world and looking to God alone. No wonder that’s where the battle was won.

She returned to the Bible, switching to the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5. The words seemed to move straight off the page and into her soul, as if by reading them she could rid herself of every sad and lonely moment from the past few months. She drank in the Scriptures like a person dying of thirst—every truth restoring a little more life to her.

The trip took three hours, much of it spent at barely a crawl. By the time they reached the city limits, the sun was out and highway workers had cleared the major streets. Katy straightened in the backseat and savored the familiar sights of Bloomington, even though it was buried under three feet of snow.
Thank You, God. . . . Thank You for getting me home.

Christmas lights were strung along the streets, wreaths tacked to the doors of most of the businesses leading into the city. She could hardly wait to see Jenny and Jim and their kids and to begin soul-searching about what was next for her now that CKT didn’t have a theater.

The thought pierced her heart with a fresh sadness. Why hadn’t she and Dayne tried harder to keep the place from closing down? Okay, so the theater wasn’t a moneymaker unless it was torn down and replaced with condominiums. But did everything have to make a profit in order to be worthwhile?

Katy narrowed her eyes, wishing she could ask the driver to take a detour past the downtown area where the theater had stood. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. Jenny had told her that the demolition was scheduled for Monday. Katy figured it might be a month before she had the courage to drive by the empty lot.

The roads leading up to their lake house were more slippery, and again the driver took his time. When he finally pulled into the driveway, she felt a rush of relief. Not that she’d been afraid—after God had breathed the reminder of His peace and presence into her soul, she had no fear. No, the relief came only because she was finally where she belonged.

Home on Lake Monroe.

She paid the driver, and he helped her get her bags to the front door. If he recognized her as Dayne Matthews’ wife, he didn’t say so, and she was again grateful. She wanted only to get inside and start thinking about what she’d tell Dayne first, how she’d let him hear her news without breaking down midway through the first sentence.

Dayne was in LA now, where he’d be until Christmas Eve. That meant she would wait until ten to call him—seven his time. Hopefully he’d be up by then.

She lugged all three of her bags inside. With the winter storm, she’d expected the house to be freezing. After all, it had been months since either of them had been home, and they hadn’t asked anyone to open the place while they were gone. They had no pets to feed or plants that needed watering.