War Room (13 page)

Tony pushed his plate away
and wiped his mouth with a napkin. The server asked if they’d like dessert and Veronica declined politely.

“Are you sure?” Tony said. “It’s on me. We could share a crème brûlée.”

Veronica smiled and shook her head. “I can’t eat another bite. But you go ahead if you want.”

“We’ll take the check,” Tony said and their server disappeared.

Veronica leaned forward. “You know what I’d really like right now?”

“Tell me.”

“A glass of my favorite wine.”

“Okay, we can do that,” he said without hesitation. “What is it?”

“It’s not here. It’s at my apartment.”

She gave him a look and Tony stared back. He’d thought he would start with dinner, get to know her better, and let things move forward at a measured pace. But her words were clear. She was ready.

Tony smiled. “Well, if it’s your favorite, I’d like to try it.”

“I think you’ll like it.”

The server reappeared and handed Tony the bill. “Here you are, sir. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”

“Thank you,” Veronica said. She glanced at Tony. “We will.”

He got out his wallet, excited, like a high school kid who’d asked the prettiest girl in school to the prom and she had said yes. Not just to the prom but to the whole night. He couldn’t wait until they got to Veronica’s place. He couldn’t wait to see what happened after a glass of wine.

Shifting in his seat, he felt his stomach gurgle. And it wasn’t small, it felt like something major
 
—a funny pain he hadn’t experienced since a conference he’d gone to when he’d first joined the company. Several of the group had eaten some rubbery chicken at a banquet and they had all paid the price. But the food he’d just eaten was cooked to perfection. Surely he couldn’t have food poisoning.

Tony signed the bill and added a generous tip. He thought maybe he was just nervous, butterflies and all that.
But as he put his credit card away, it felt like his stomach was about to do a backflip. The room swayed and spun like he was on an amusement park ride or he was looking at one of those sideshow mirrors that made your face too fat or too tall.

“Veronica, listen,” Tony said, trying to act nonchalant as the pain intensified. “I need a minute, all right? I’ll be right back.”

She watched him get up. “Okay.”

He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.
Are you really going to go through with this?
he thought.
There’s a young lady waiting right now to take you home.

As he looked at his reflection, his mind spinning, an image of Elizabeth flashed for a moment. He blinked, then saw Danielle. The pain in his stomach intensified and he ran water in the sink and splashed it on his face, groaning as he did. The churning heaved and suddenly he couldn’t hold back. He hit the stall door and made it to the toilet just as the gurgle became a geyser.

Elizabeth was still on her knees, still praying. She couldn’t stop knocking at heaven’s door. There was a burden so heavy on her heart that she couldn’t hold back. It felt like her whole being burned with conviction.

“Jesus, You are Lord. You can turn Tony’s heart back to You. So whatever it takes, Lord. I trust You.”

Tonight Elizabeth’s mind didn’t wander like other times in prayer. When she ran out of ways to ask God to reach Tony, she thanked God for things like Missy and her text message. “Lord, what are the odds that she would be at the same place as Tony? That she would see what she saw? You placed her there for a reason, and You let me know this information. I thank You for that and pray You would use it for Tony’s good. I pray that You wouldn’t punish him, if he’s doing something wrong toward me and Danielle, but that You would enable him to make good choices. Help him turn to You. Don’t let the enemy win a victory in his heart. Lord, do whatever You need to do in order to bring him to his senses.”

There were no guarantees in prayer. She couldn’t know if God would do something miraculous or if He even heard. But by faith she believed God not only heard but was working in Tony’s heart at that very moment.

Tony had tried to leave the bathroom twice, only to have to retreat and endure another round of stomach clenching and the awful loss of that expensive dinner. He wondered if Veronica could hear him outside because the noise he made was anything but romantic. A man had come in, briefly, and exited when he heard Tony. He couldn’t blame the guy.

As a child Tony had hated even the idea of throwing up. He’d felt the quiver in his stomach late one night in bed and ran down the hall to get his mother, then ran back
to the bathroom, stuck his head out the door, and tossed his cookies on the carpet. That was a story his mother loved to tell, and when Danielle went to see her grandma, she always asked her to repeat it
 
—and she and Elizabeth laughed and laughed. He had to admit it was a funny story, but the idea of getting that sick had terrified him as a child. Even as an adult, he did everything he could to avoid it, and when Danielle was ill, he let Elizabeth care for her in that department.

Tony came up for air and wiped his eyes. What in the world had happened? One minute he was fine and the next he was violently ill, like a tornado had hit his insides. He glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like he’d gone several rounds with a prizefighter. He washed his face again and let the room stop spinning, then gathered himself and headed to the front of the restaurant.

Veronica was waiting by the door, a concerned look on her face. “You okay?”

His stomach did another flip. He needed to get to his car. If he could just get inside and sit, he might be okay.

“Veronica, I’m sorry, but I need to go back to my hotel room.”

“Well, I can go with you.”

“No, I mean, I’m not feeling well. I need to go lay down.”

She gave him a pouty look. “Baby, I can take care of you.”

If she’d heard him in the restroom, she wouldn’t have been so keen to follow.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll call you later. But I need to go.”

Tony walked outside slowly, the pavement spinning beneath him. He had to close his eyes as he neared the car and take a deep breath. He looked back at Veronica. She was heading to her car looking hurt and confused.

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how long she had been in her closet, but there came a point where she felt her job was done. She wanted to call Tony or text him and ask him who he was with. She wanted to call his hotel, if she could track it down, and see if they’d send someone to knock on his door.

Maybe just a text,
she thought. Something like
Praying for you.
No, that would just be telling him she was checking up. She wanted to rely on God fully. And she wouldn’t worry about this the whole night. She was putting it in God’s hands. If Tony came to mind, she’d pray. Otherwise, she needed to keep moving forward. Do the things she was assigned to do.

Elizabeth washed her face and emptied the dryer, bringing the clothes basket to her room. As she dumped the clothes on the bed to fold, Danielle entered, already in her pajamas.

“What happened to your closet?” she said.

Elizabeth smiled and sat on the end of the bed, then motioned for Danielle to sit next to her. Danielle obliged. She was getting so big, so grown-up. They had only eight more years with her
 
—no, less than that. She’d soon be off
to college and then she’d meet some guy and get married and start a family.

“I’m doing something that I should have done a long time ago,” Elizabeth said. “I’m learning how to pray and fight and trust.”

Danielle looked as though she was trying to digest her mother’s words. “By cleaning out your closet?”

“No. Well, yes. But no. I mean . . .” Elizabeth tried to think of the best way to help her daughter understand what she’d only come to understand herself. “It needed to be cleaned out, but that’s not why I did it. I did it to fight in prayer.”

A scrunched-up face. “You’re fighting God?”

“No, I’m not. Well, sometimes I do fight God. But I shouldn’t because He always wins. So I’m praying for God to fight for me, because I’m just sick of losing, but not against God. I need to lose against God.”

She wasn’t doing a very good job of explaining. She took another run at it.

“I’m sick of losing in other areas where I’m just fighting but I keep losing all the time. It’s exhausting. So I’m learning how not to fight God and how to let Him fight for me so that we can all win. Does that make sense?”

Danielle frowned and gave her a look like her mind had been spun in a blender. “No.”

“You know what?” Elizabeth said. “I don’t make much sense when I’m tired.”

“You must be really tired.”

Elizabeth couldn’t hold back a smile. “Let’s just go get a late-night snack and I’ll try it again, okay?”

Danielle hopped up and raced her to the kitchen. They made fruit smoothies, though Elizabeth put her foot down and refused to include gummy worms or chocolate syrup that late at night. While they cut up the bananas and added the frozen berries and yogurt and a little granola, Danielle said, “Is Dad on another trip?”

“Yes, he had to go to Raleigh.”

“Why does he have to be gone so much?”

“It’s part of the job. Comes with the territory of being a salesman.”

“I wish he could be home more,” Danielle said. “Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?”

“I like it when he’s home, but I don’t like it when you guys fight.”

Elizabeth poured the smoothies into two glasses. It was such a thick concoction that the spoons stood straight up.

“I don’t like it when we fight either. And I’m hoping that’s going to change really soon.”

“Is that the reason you emptied your closet?”

“Sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?” Danielle said.

Elizabeth laughed. Such a bright girl. If she and Tony could only get their lives together, they could watch her grow together and be good models for her. They could show what reconciliation looked like.

“Danielle, I haven’t been the mother I need to be to
you. I haven’t been the wife I should be. I’ve nagged your father, I’ve tried to get him to see all the things he’s done that are wrong, and I haven’t seen a lot of the things I’ve done that are hurtful. So I asked God to forgive me. I asked Him to come in and clean out my heart, just like I did the closet.”