The Lights of Tenth Street (18 page)

Eric clenched his fists.
After all I’ve done!
He caught himself and shook his head.
Well, Lord it’s in Your hands
.

He watched the bank of windows as his intended plane pulled slowly away from the gate. He turned back to the supervisor. The brassy gate agent had somehow disappeared.

“Listen, I’m supposed to see my little girl in a children’s Christmas play tomorrow night at my church. It’ll break her heart if I’m not there on time. Do you have any other ideas for me?”

“Oh, sir.” The supervisor tapped furiously on the keyboard as she spoke. “I want to try to help you, but even if we put you on another airline—which we’d be very willing to do—you’d have the same problem. Hold on … no … the other flights are booked solid, too, and in another twenty minutes or so, nothing’s going to be leaving here until midmorning tomorrow.”

Eric sighed. “Well, thanks for trying. I appreciate your willingness to help.”

“Sir?”

He looked up as she paused, hesitating. “Yes?”

“If you don’t mind a personal question … are you a believer?”

Eric gave her a tired smile, noticing for the first time the small gold cross pinned to her lapel. “Yes, I am.”

“I thought so. Me, too. I appreciate that you were gracious under pressure,
instead of yelling at my gate agent.”

“Well …” Eric gave a short laugh. “I still have to work on what was being said in my
head.
”

The supervisor grinned. “I understand. And frankly, you can’t always tell believers by how they behave. It’s sad, but I’ve had many a fervent churchgoer get exercised and take it out on me or my staff.”

“I’m so sorry. You must have to put up with so much.”

“Sometimes. I just smile through gritted teeth and keep repeating Matthew 5:41 to myself over and over.”

“And that is …”

“If an unjust person demands that you carry his burden for one mile, carry it for two … if an unjust person demands that you carry his burden for one mile, carry it for two …”

Eric laughed outright. “That’s good. I’ve been in a few business deals where I could’ve used that Scripture.”

As she smiled back, he felt the familiar caution. She was a nice woman; best to be careful. Especially with a sister in Christ.

“Wait!” She slapped her head and swung back to her computer. “What about—?”

He heard the keyboard clicking again. “San Jose! That’s it. It’s only an hour south, but the topography is completely different and it has very different weather. Yep … sure enough, their flights are going out tonight.” She squinted at her watch. “Hmm. By the time we put you on a shuttle bus and get you down there, you’re going to miss the regular flights. There’s a red-eye to Atlanta at ten o’clock, but it’s packed. If you can’t get on that flight standby, we’ll give you a hotel voucher and book you priority on the first flight out in the morning. Even if there are delays, you should still make it in plenty of time. Will that do?”

“Doris,” Eric said, reading her name tag, “you’re a miracle worker.”

“We both know who the miracle worker is. God willing, we’ll get you home to your baby girl in time.”

T
he sky was still pitch-black outside as Doug Turner checked his belongings one last time, locked the rental car, and dropped the keys in the return drop box. He stood at the deserted curbside, waiting for the airport shuttle bus. If he stood any chance of going standby on the eight-thirty flight he would need to be the first one on the list.

Lord, please get me home on time!

After a few minutes of waiting, he looked around for a bench and then sat on the curb, pulling his trench coat around him. Too few hours of sleep last night. And not because of a movie, either. He shivered inside his coat and stared out at the darkened streets. Should he tell Sherry he’d gone to the strip club with the guys? It wasn’t a huge deal, not a shameful problem like—well, like the other stuff was. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

He wondered whether he should have gone at all. What kind of a Christian example was that to the others in the group? But it wasn’t like he’d witnessed to them or anything. Of course, Jordan knew of his faith and sometimes gave him sideways jabs about being too straight-and-narrow, and why would he want to be a Christian and give up all his fun. It couldn’t be
all
bad for Jordan to see that he could loosen up a little and still stay under control. Doug hadn’t had any alcohol, and of course hadn’t asked any of the girls for a table dance. He’d been thankful that only Gil had asked for a dance, and since the girl had been around the other side of the table, Doug had been able to ignore her. Well, mostly ignore her.

He saw the distinctive silhouette of the airport shuttle and stood up, grateful to have something else to think about.

The ticketing line for Doug’s airline was long but moving fast. Through the crowd between him and the ticket counter, he idly watched the ticketing agents go through their routine as each passenger approached. Suddenly, Doug straightened. That woman looked like … He craned his neck, trying to see over the crowd.

At the meeting last night, Jill
had
mentioned a flight today. He hadn’t even thought of it until now. But, no—it couldn’t be her. And why did he even care?
Annoyed with himself, he continued to peer through the crowd. The woman collected her tickets and departed without looking back. Couldn’t have been her.

He tried to stuff back an image of Jill at the whiteboard from their first meeting. It popped back up several times. And then an explicit memory from one of the movies he’d watched intruded as well. He tried to clear his mind, frustrated. He must just be too tired this morning.

He forced himself to think about business, about his family, about how excited everyone was going to be when he walked into the church that night—assuming he made this flight. The ticket agent assured him he’d have a good shot at one of the few standby slots, and sent him on his way, admonishing him to check in with the departure gate regularly.

Please, Lord
 …

Nearly an hour later, after clearing security, he went straight to his gate and conferred with the agent, smiling at the woman and trying to make friends with her. She tapped the keyboard a few times and looked up, her expression apologetic.

“If we can get you on, you’re going to have to take a middle seat. Just make sure you’re in the gate area twenty minutes before departure, and we’ll try our best to get you a seat assignment.”

Doug thanked her and started to walk away.

“Doug?”

He turned to see a middle-aged man walking toward him. Doug grinned in surprise.

“Eric!” Doug gave his friend a hearty handshake. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

“I’m on the eight-thirty flight to Atlanta.”

“No kidding? I’m on standby for the same flight.”

“What a coincidence.” Eric Elliott cocked his head, smiling slightly. “I was just going into the club here. Why don’t you join me?”

Doug followed Eric a few feet down the concourse and through the door of the airline’s private club for frequent travelers. The door opened into an elegant marble-floored entryway with a reception desk. Eric showed his club badge to the man behind the desk, gesturing to Doug. “And he’s with me.”

“Thank you, Mr.… Elliott. Go right ahead.”

The two men made their way past a counter where three ticket agents were helping short lines of passengers, and into the quiet, stylish seating area. A curved bar graced one wall and the other was floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the airfield. Eric set his bag and coat down by a small grouping of plush sofas and gestured toward the bar.

“I’m going to grab some orange juice. Would you like anything?”

“Coffee would be great.”

Doug surveyed the club with its many amenities for the busy traveler. He pursed his lips, impressed. Maybe he would get a membership.

Someone walked up by his chair, and he stood to help Eric with the drinks. Instead, he came face to face with Jill, a bag slung over her shoulder, wearing a black turtleneck and blue jeans. He felt his breath catch in his chest.

“Hey, Doug. I thought that was you.” She shook his hand, a friendly smile on her face.

“Good morning, Jill. Where are you heading today?”

“Just down to Los Angeles. I go down to see my boyfriend most weekends. They just called my flight.”

Doug saw Eric walk up, and he made the introductions. “Jill’s company is one of our clients, and she’s on the big deal I’ve been working with this week.”

Eric shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jill.”

“Likewise.” She turned back to Doug. “During the meeting yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to mention several other synergies in the communications area, but I should run them by you soon.”

“Give me a call next week.”

“Will do. I know a couple of the other executives were dicey on the numbers, but in my department there are some real financial benefits so I hope the deal works out. Thanks for spending a week on this. I know it’s a pain living out of a suitcase, but I think we made some progress.”

“I agree. We’ll see.”

“Well—” she looked at her watch, “see you later. I’ve got to catch my plane.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

She waved good-bye to the two men and headed for the door.

Doug tried not to follow her back view with his eyes. He turned to see Eric also wrench his gaze away. As the two men sank into the small sofas, Eric looked at Doug’s face and gave him a rueful smile.

“Whew, brother, I don’t envy you.”

Doug laughed. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to say you
did
envy me.”

Eric shook his head, chuckling. “No way. I know myself. Working away from home for a week under those circumstances would be a huge exercise in mental self-discipline. My brain gets tired just thinking about it.”

Doug nodded, suddenly somber. “That’s true.” He sipped his coffee, wondering how much to say. “It hasn’t been … an easy week.”

The two men sat in silence for a moment. Doug wavered, his pride warring with his conscience. After a bit, Doug stirred and looked up at his friend. “So what brings you to Silicon Valley?”

“Actually, I was in San Francisco for a convention, but missed my flight home.” He told Doug about being detained at the security check and about the airport shutting down because of the weather. “Thankfully, God seems to have worked it out. I was really worried about missing Rebekah’s play tonight.”

“Genna is in the play, too, you know.”

“No kidding? I didn’t know that. What does she play?”

“She’s one of the angels.”

“That’s sweet. Not exactly theologically correct, but sweet.”

“Yeah, the heavenly host that proclaimed Jesus’ birth to the shepherds were probably mighty warriors, not cute little cherubs.” He grinned. “We looked all over for fifteen-foot-tall four-year-olds, but we couldn’t find any.”

Eric gave a hearty laugh. “I can’t wait. It’ll be a fun night.”

“What’s Rebekah’s part?”

“She’s Mary.”

“How perfect for her.”

“Yes, she’s a gentle spirit. It’s weird, isn’t it? She’s only twelve, but probably not that much younger than Mary was when Jesus was born. Probably only a few years’ difference.”

“That’s such a strange thought! Such a different time and culture.”

“Yes. But think how unfamiliar our society would be to them. They may have started their families early and may not have lived past their forties, but here we have these long lives filled with so much trash and trouble that they couldn’t even conceive of.”

Doug shook his head slowly. “I wonder if it was easier to deal with the threat of disease and a grueling lifestyle; or today’s threats of drugs, immorality, and all these other things in the middle of a comfortable lifestyle.”

“It’s not even so much a matter of something like drugs, which most people recognize as harmful. Today, we have these subtle attacks that don’t even get acknowledged as harmful in our popular culture.” Eric slapped his hand against his knee. “I mean, get this! I’m watching television last night, and this commercial comes on for this movie that was just released—I forget its name, but it’s the one with that really pretty half-Asian, half-black actress.…”

“You mean Hannah Perry?”

“Right, right. So anyway, within seconds into this commercial, there’s a shot of Hannah Perry standing in front of a backlit window, undressing down to her lingerie.
This image hits me in the face at eight o’clock at night—prime time, family hour! It was there and gone in two seconds—no chance to avoid it, no chance to look away. And now I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I know what you mean, man.”

“And if I as a mature Christian man can’t get it out of my head, how on earth is my fourteen-year-old son going to handle that X-rated image? At least years ago, you had the option to avoid pornography. Now it assaults you even when you don’t want it. It makes me furious.”

“I agree.”

Eric was shaking his head. “So anyway, I don’t know that there’s an easy answer to your original question. Every time has its challenges—we live in a fallen world. But I almost wonder whether it was easier to live with the physical risks that you couldn’t do much about—that you might die of a disease or be thrown to the lions or something—than to live with today’s emotional and spiritual risks that you feel like you
should
be able to do something about, but can’t really avoid.”

Doug stretched and stood, coffee cup in hand. “I’m going to get a refill. Can I get you more orange juice?”

Doug saw a flicker of surprise cross Eric’s face. He nodded and handed over his juice glass. “That would be great, thanks.”

When Doug returned, Eric pulled out his ticket. “So where are you sitting on the plane?”

“I don’t have a seat yet—I’m on standby.” He told Eric about canceling his big meeting in order to surprise his family at the play. “I’ll just be happy to get
on
the plane, even if I have to squish into a middle seat somewhere.”

“Listen, let me check with these ticket agents over here and see if they’ll allow me to give you one of my upgrades on your standby ticket so we can sit together in first class.”