Words Unspoken (39 page)
“I’ll say.”
Annie washed her as if she were a little child, and her gentle, almost methodical manner alleviated Lissa’s embarrassment.
Lissa desperately didn’t want them to leave.
Back in bed, she asked, “You think things happen for a reason, don’t you, Mr. MacAllister?”
As usual, he didn’t give a quick answer. His eyes studied her.
He’s trying to see through me, to the reason I’m asking this question.
“I think there is Someone in control who knows all about us and works things out.”
“I don’t see how you can seriously believe that.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? We’re here with you. ”
“Yeah, but I could have just as easily not been. I mean, a guy at the license bureau gave me your card, and I decided to call you. How random is that? I almost didn’t. I almost grabbed a handful of pills …” She stopped and looked down.
“Exactly. But you didn’t, and you’re here.”
I’m here.
“It’s just random stuff, Mr. MacAllister. You can’t really think it’s arranged. I decided to call you that day.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I was thinking about the pills and then I just pulled the card out of my jeans pocket. I was desperate for something to hope in.
“Why did you call me today?”
“I needed you. I was afraid of myself. Of being alone.” Exhausted, she leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes. “Here’s another random thing. A few weeks ago I ran into a guy at The Sixth Declension. Turns out we’d met a few years ago at the same bookstore. We talked awhile and then he asked me out. He offered to take me to see Caleb. And he likes Latin and he’s from Rome. Just a random coincidence.
“And then I find out he’s in the publishing business, and he started telling me about a new book that his publisher is putting out, and it’s called, get this,
Driving Lessons
. How random is that? It’s just another stupid coincidence that doesn’t mean a thing.”
Ev MacAllister nodded. “Except that you’re seeing a lot of coincidences lately, and you’re thinking that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t as random as you had believed. Maybe you shouldn’t ignore the coincidences in your life.”
She shrugged. There he went again, being a prophet or a saint or a psychiatrist.
“I see you have a Bible by your bed.”
Lissa felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Oh, yeah. Well, that’s random too. I never read the Bible. It’s just that I was trying to find this verse— something I read in the novel I told you about, Mr. MacAllister. You said you’d read it too.
Eastern Crossings
.” Lissa paused and shook her head. “It’s by the same lady who wrote
Driving Lessons
.” Then, remembering that the new novel wasn’t even published yet, she hurried on. “Anyway, I couldn’t sleep in the night, so I got the Bible and tried to find the verse. I couldn’t, though.”
Mr. MacAllister asked, “Do you have any scratch paper, Lissa?”
“Sure, on my desk.”
The older man walked over to her desk, found a piece of paper and a pen, and began to write something on it. Then he handed the sheet of paper to Lissa. “This will keep you busy while you are recuperating.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Annie looked at her watch, then motioned to Ev. “I’m afraid we need to go, Lissa. We have another appointment. Will you be all right?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m so sorry I called like that. I’m so embarrassed for asking you to come. I’ll pay you, of course, as if it were a regular lesson.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! And you call anytime you like, you understand?”
“Thank you, Annie.”
The older woman reached over and asked, “Can I pray for you, Lissa?”
“Pray for me? What do you mean?”
“I believe God listens to our prayers and asks us to pray for each other, especially when we’re going through hard things.”
“Well, I guess. If you want.”
Annie closed her eyes, touched Lissa softly on the arm, and began talking out loud to God as if He were right there in the room with them. “Dear Lord, thank you for Lissa. Please help her see that life isn’t random. Take care of her. Give her what she needs so that she can trust you. Amen.”
Ev echoed an “Amen.”
When they had left, Lissa sat for a long time just thinking about the encounter; then she looked at the paper Ev had given her. He had jotted down a number of references—Bible references, she supposed. She took the Bible in her good hand and began flipping through the big book until she found the first one. Isaiah 42, verse 16.
And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known; I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them and not forsake them.
She stared at the printed words while tears blurred her eyes. She kept hearing something completely new in her mind.
Life is not random.
________
“You don’t look good, boyfriend,” Annie said as they headed the red Buick down Lookout Mountain. “Maybe we should cancel the visit.”
“We’ll do no such thing. I am fine.” Nonetheless, he had agreed to let her drive.
“Your hands are shaking, Ev! The cardiologist said to pay attention to that. You heard him.”
“I’m fine. It just unnerved me to see her like that. She had that same look in her eyes as when I first met her. It had disappeared for a while, but today it was back. A lost look. And a look of desperation. I’m worried about her.”
“I know.”
He reached over and placed a hand on Annie’s shoulder, rubbing it lightly. “Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t have gone alone.”
“She’s not Tate, Ev.”
“I know, Annie. I really do. But she’s on a destructive path, just like Tate. Just like a lot of the kids we’ve known.” He rubbed his eyes with two fingers. “Strange, isn’t it? All her talk about life being random. And her examples.”
Annie glanced over at him and raised her eyebrows. With a smile she said, “That was definitely not random, boyfriend.”
“That’s for sure.” He knew they were both thinking the same thing. “Janelle is getting on that plane tomorrow and flying over. I don’t feel ready. Do you?”
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen. I figure the Lord will get us ready at the right time.”
“He always does, doesn’t He?”
Annie pulled the car into the parking lot of Good Shepherd Rehabilitation Center. They entered the building, and the familiar sterile scent accosted them. A young man wheeled his chair over to Ev, smiling. He held out a withered hand and Ev took it.
“Hey there, Lou. How are you?”
“Good, boss, doing good. I got the grant. I’m gonna have a car. A real car.”
Ev’s face broke into a wide grin. “Excellent. That is excellent news!”
________
The ringing phone startled Lissa out of a light doze. She reached for it, expecting to hear her father’s voice. Instead, it was Silvano’s.
“Hey, how’s my favorite equestrian today?”
She made a face into the receiver. “Horrible. Sore, black and blue, in pain.”
“What about your father?”
“Oh, he came in with this sheepish look on his face this morning and brought me breakfast. He asked if I wanted him to stick around, and I made it clear I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry, Liss. I wish I could do something.”
“Thanks for calling.” She hesitated, then added, “And I had two guests today—my driving instructor and his wife.”
“They came to see you? Weird.”
“Not really. I’ve been to their house for dinner twice, and I just get along really well with them. They came at the perfect time, when—” What was she saying? She wasn’t about to admit her dark thoughts to Silvano.
“Well, I hope you rest better tonight. I’ll try to drop by on Wednesday.”
“Silvano, you work in Atlanta! I’m not going to have you driving back and forth to Chattanooga during the week. It’s not worth it.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, anything you say,” he teased.
“No, I’m serious. I’ll be okay. But thanks for calling. It means a whole lot.”
She hung up the phone, hearing the words
coincidence, random, planned
. Was there a sense to all that was happening in her life? She could not believe that there was, at least not yet. But just in case, she would keep the Bible close by.
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 4
Janelle had never flown across the ocean alone. She’d always had Brian and the kids, and they spent the better part of the flight making sure the children were entertained and quiet. She hardly knew what to do with nine hours of uninterrupted time. The truth was that she wanted to sleep, but sleep always eluded her on airplanes. She tried to think about positive things, but her mind turned inevitably either to Josh or to her parents’ past. Neither brought any comfort.
She reached into her purse and took out her Bible, the thin one she used when traveling, and began reading where she had left off a few days before. Psalm 126.
Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting. He who goes forth weeping, carrying his bag of seed, shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.
Brian would call these promises from God, but she wasn’t so sure— maybe it was just wishful thinking. She had certainly done her share of sowing in tears. That was true. But the reaping?
Oh, Lord, I don’t even have the energy to think about all of this.
Brian had suggested she go home for a break, but she actually felt like she was walking into another storm, something as heavy and oppressive as her situation in France. Katy Lynn needed her support as she dealt with the divorce, and her parents needed to talk about long-ago things they had kept from her for some reason. Maybe she wouldn’t even have time to talk to the counselor about Josh.
Was the Lord truly in control of all these things? She felt too tired to work it through. Instead, she flipped to the New Testament, Paul’s letter to the Galatians, and stared at another verse, one of her favorites, underlined in blue ink:
And let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we shall reap if we do not grow weary… .
But I am weary, Lord. I am so very weary.
Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean, the Bible spread across her lap, Janelle fell asleep.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 5
Per l’amor di Dio
, Eddy Clouse had done it. With Leah looking over his shoulder, Silvano admired the full-page ad in the November 5 morning edition of the
Atlanta Journal
.
Coming Soon to Bookstores Everywhere!
Driving Lessons
, the newest novel by beloved author S. A. Green.
The novel’s cover showed the back of a car zipping along a country lane. Underneath the cover were five short but glowing reviews from the likes of
Publishers Weekly,
the
Wall Street Journal, Library Journal,
the
New York Times,
and the
Herald Tribune
. Six weeks after receiving the manuscript, Eddy had accomplished a miracle.
“This is going to be great!” Leah said. “Every family in Atlanta will be clamoring to have the novel by Thanksgiving.”
Silvano pointed to the newspaper.
Available in bookstores December 21.
“They’ll have to wait just a bit longer.”
“All the better. They’ll be lined up outside the stores!” When Leah got excited about books, she giggled like a teenager. “Have you read it?”
“Her novel?”
“Yeah.”
Watch out, Silvo… .
“No, have you?”
She nodded, her bobbed hair dancing in a silly way around her round face. “Yes. Mr. Clouse let me read the edits. It
is
wonderful. So different. It’s like a handbook on survival, but it reads like poetry—poetry you can understand and take with you.”
Leah had described it well. Poetry you could understand. How in the world did Miss Green make a driving lesson in the country sound like T. S. Eliot?
The respecting of rules is a difficult matter; difficult, yes, but delightfully rewarding.
Grrr.
Silvano did not want to think about that silly phrase that spoke of respecting rules. Rules were made to be broken, and he had certainly broken a few. But soon everything would be perfect.
He’d spoken to several weekly magazines that all seemed eager to pay him handsomely for the exclusive story: “An Essay on S. A.: The Woman Behind the Phenomenon.” Exclusive. Obviously he could only have one buyer, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make them bid against each other. If he were lucky, he could make a good bit more than his annual salary at Youngblood! He had already scribbled out a page of notes for the article. But what did he really know that would interest a magazine enough to pay him big bucks? They
thought
he had enough scoop to be worth a fortune, but did he?
He had a photo of the woman. Several good head shots. Not surprisingly, she had gray hair. She was about five-foot-three and a little round, but quite attractive for her age. She looked even more diminutive beside towering Eddy Clouse.
He scrounged through his notes from that recording. What else had she said?
“This is a work of art, Stella. I felt I was in the car, riding with you the whole way. I loved it.”