Chapter 5
The Dark Puzzle Piece
Alex Snapshot
Alex felt great; and for one of the first time in his life, he seemed to be making all the right decisions. He had a small business that was flourishing in the midst of a catastrophe. It was hard to imagine what a good idea could do. What was so unusual to
him was how people flocked to him, freely and willingly giving him their kids. They only did it to make sure they could make it for one more day. There were those, however, who never came back. He was left taking care of their children who were supposed to be his temporary employees; but now, they were becoming his property. There was no one to tell him to stop working them, and no one to care for them either. He made sure they had everything they needed. He was like a type of father to them now; and if he asked, they’d work night and day for him. Their fear and desperation turned into gratitude, admiration, and mini-worship.
The Flesh Man Cometh
Casey dropped by Alex's car lot early on Monday morning. Alex had never met him; but when Alex saw his limousine pull up, he couldn't help but be impressed. Not too many people could afford the gas for that kind of ride. With Casey, there were two young girls who looked about 15-years old. They hung back by the limousine while Casey sauntered slowly towards Alex’s front door.
Casey wasn't a big man, but his dark skin and natural Latino looks gave him a smooth, appealing appearance. His Brazilian father had the same natural good looks that made it easy for both of them to ply their wicked trade, a trade of flesh. Some things, even in the midst of great disaster, never changed. Men and women alike wanted the evil escape. With so many homeless, a perverted escape wasn't hard to find. Missing was the innocence and the innocent.
Anyone with enough money could pay for hardened, desperate people willing to do anything for a meal or one more day to stay alive. There was a premium for those not touched by evil and desperation. It was as if their innocence could draw out the other’s sickness. It was as if that innocence could become a part of them. These people were like spiritual vampires sucking the goodness from the souls of the young.
Alex watched Casey walking towards the door while his small, childish companions sat on the ground and leaned against the limo. They looked too thin and gaunt as if they were missing something, something that Alex's kids had, but he couldn't put a finger on it. They didn’t look naïve, only used. There was no spark, excitement,
and life in their eyes, movements, and gestures; and this was just another pitiful, boring stop. Alex guessed that they had been using drugs, but he couldn't imagine anyone having enough money for drugs when food was so hard to come by.
As Casey entered the door, Alex came around the counter, which blocked the entrance where the kids worked. Casey heard the music blaring, engulfing the busily working kids, all 30 of them with five bays full of cars, trucks, and vans.
Alex discovered that no one cared how ugly a car was as long as it ran. If it lasted a couple weeks, they felt lucky, so much for consumer laws and regulations. The kids cleaned up the cars anyway, a prideful Alex thing.
"Mr. Tabor?" Casey put his hand out energetically. As Alex made contact, he felt the strength in Casey's hand.
He was impressed and answered, "Yes, what can I do for you?"
"I’ve noticed your business growing in the middle of such a mess. I'm impressed. I really admire what you’ve done, using all the kids the way you do and taking care of them too. It must make you feel very good to help the kids so much?"
Casey's eyes were wide with excitement. He was getting ready to deal. This was something he lived for. He loved winning as much as playing the game. He knew how good his smile looked, and knew that he was disarming. He knew exactly how to move and speak in order to get anyone's trust—a snake charmer—his stock and trade. He could gain the trust of his worst enemy, just enough to throw them off and give him a little advantage. It was his persona, and Alex was getting a real taste of it.
Alex felt completely comfortable with Casey without knowing why. It seemed unearthly, like Casey was a drug. He felt a deep urge to please Casey, but it was more than an urge; it was compelling. When Alex shook hands and thought he had finished the handshake, Casey didn’t let go. He was intent on holding Alex’s hand a while longer. Casey continued to talk—Alex continued to be intoxicated.
"So tell me," Casey asked softly, "do you ever have children more special than others?" Then he dropped Alex’s hand waiting for an answer.
"I don't know exactly what you mean?" Alex replied. "I haven't much time to notice. I've never been around children in my life. I guess I'm not one to judge. They get the job done, and they seem to appreciate the jobs. I imagine that it's better than going home. It seems like my business has become a job club to most of them; except here, they get food and shelter. Is that what you mean?” Alex was uncertain and unable to grasp Casey’s true meaning.
That wasn't at all what Casey meant. "No, I was thinking about special children, a little older than the rest, not old enough to vote, but old enough to—you know—be friendly."
He saw a confused, startled look in Alex's eyes and was surprised by Alex’s alarm. Had Alex never thought about his new family as a commodity for anything other than the job? No! No one was that naive.
He immediately changed his approach by saying, “You know, old enough to be harder workers than the rest for tougher jobs.” He was trying not to upset Alex. He had a deal to make. Maybe Alex’s naivety could work to his advantage.
Alex made a terrible candidate for Casey to lure into his enticing web. Casey always needed to find one thing that someone cared for. He fished to find their weakness; and once he did, they were netted. The "Casey net" was subtle, enticing, and relentlessly passionate. It was a button to push and a string to pull that allowed Casey to use and drive anyone exactly the direction he wanted them to go. How else to get Alex to yield some of his bountiful kids’ crop for something more sinister than washing cars? He seemed to feel, intuitively, that one of Alex's hot buttons was safety.
He was right. Alex went to extremes to be safe. The safer Alex felt, the more profitable he was. He equated safety with profit, making money. Were the children safe? They were to Alex because he never expected anything from them except work, and they didn’t require anything from him except to be their boss. Safety was controlled by Alex’s extreme desire for order. In Alex’s world, the kids worked, they got paid, and so did he, eventually—there was order, and he was safe.
Casey didn't know Alex’s background. He didn’t know that he was the product of a Kentucky orphanage where Alex lived his youth among other abandoned children, going from one family to another. Keeping out of trouble was his specialty, a way of staying safe. There were other ways to stay safe. Not pretending about anything was one. For that reason, he never cultivated an imagination, and daydreams were not his favorite pastime. He became a realist, a practical, pragmatic child who became a practical, pragmatic adult. Everything was in pushing figures around to make them work with getting the job done with no time for much else, not that the world was only black and white, that easy.
To Alex, the world was either succeeding or not succeeding, making money or not making money, doing those logical, unemotional things that made it all happen. Caring and compassion were distractions. Personal problems were useless baggage. Passion was a waste of time while an imagination, good or bad, got in the way.
Casey moved ever so slightly to Alex's side and put a light hand on Alex’s opposite shoulder, then changed the subject, "Can I see your shop?"
The question was a surprise, disarming Alex's slightly apprehensive mood. He still felt comfortable with Casey and didn't know why. However, he was still confused about what Casey
wanted, and this confusion still made him a little apprehensive. It was a symptom that he wasn’t in control and the order was disappearing. One moment Casey seemed to be inte
rested in his older kids, and the next minute he wanted to see his garage. To Casey, they were one in the same. He wanted to preview future merchandise.
"You know, Alex," he spoke softly, "I might have a way of helping your kids out a little. It doesn't look to me like your shelter full of cots and sleeping bags is the Marriott."
"No, it isn’t, but they appreciate it." Alex felt a little defensive. He knew his success depended on the kids, and he saw to it that they lacked for nothing that mattered.
As they both entered the garage, the kids froze in their tracks. They all looked at each other, not with inquisitive looks, but with knowing looks. They knew exactly what Casey was. His appearance gave him away. He was a flashy dresser: French cuffs, diamond-studded cufflinks with a black, velvet vest peaking above the double-breasted, imported suit. He was impeccable; but in this world, he was outlandishly impeccable. He looked like he was from the moon, certainly from a different world than the kids or Alex.
Some of the kids seemed annoyed, wondering why he was there. Two of the older girls ducked out of sight and ran out the back door. They didn’t want to do anything to cause them to be singled out. There was the smell of high-pitched panic in the air. Casey smiled, noticeably amused. Nothing missed his glances. Nothing missed his evaluation of good looks. He was a predator and took in all the assets in the flash of a moment. He knew exactly how much it was all worth. Alex was pointing out the equipment and running down the routines for cleaning and minor repairs. Casey just nodded,
grunting slightly, "cooing" at the right times, but he was calculating the diamond mine of this one garage, adding up his profits, all in seconds.
"Like I was saying, Alex; I may have a way of helping out you and your kids. Let's face it, if you could provide some of the business centers with hard workers, you could help out Nashville and make a nice profit yourself. Had you thought about expanding your use of the children? I mean you could run a regular job pool for almost anyone. You could be the Pied Piper of the complete job market. What do you think?"
"Casey, what I think? Why?" He was almost sarcastic.
Casey understood, "You mean, why help? I get a cut of everything. I want a cut on your stuff for putting my people with you, and I'm going to get a cut on their stuff for the same reason. I can't think of a better reason to do it, can you?”
Alex understood. The image in his head started instantly growing. He saw it clearly, thousands of kids working for less than adults. "Okay, it might work, but I just want to make sure that wherever they work, they're well taken care of. I've made a promise to a lot of parents, even to some I've never seen since, but they may be back one day. A promise is a promise."
Casey answered, "Alex, you're a good man. You really are. I like doing business with someone with ethics like yours. We’ll make a good team. I'll give you a call after I’ve cultivated some solid opportunities."
Casey turned and hurriedly walked away, then waved briefly as he drove off. He was definitely in a hurry now. He had to make some calls and put his plan together.
Alex felt there was something certainly mysterious about Casey; and whatever it was, it attracted and enticed him at the same time. He tried to pay more attention to the quality of the kids. In retrospect, it did seem he was capitalizing on the evil around him, but he couldn't think of anyone better; after all, he didn't cause this mess. He was only at the right place at the right time.
Anne's Story
A couple of days after Casey's visit, several of his teenage girls approached him, "Mr. Alex," said a small perky, little 15-year-old named Anne.
Her blue jeans hung off her straight hips, not of fashion, but from skinniness, nothing fit her. She had recently been through the hard ordeal of her mother’s death. Her father skipped out of town and left her abandoned in an empty trailer park with no food or electricity with just the clothes on her back. The trailer park manager finally kicked her out and took back the trailer. She made it just past the Andrew Jackson Mansion where its ancient oaks had been uprooted from the 1997 tornadoes. She stayed for three months hiding in the woods and sleeping in the carriage barns.
When she got hungry, she staked out the Pizza Hut on Andrew Jackson. They dumped old pizzas in the trash, and she got enough to live on. Between the Pizza Hut and the Kroger dumpster across the street, at least she ate. Who knows what would've happened if the local gangs caught her. Her only alternative was to hide. She was worried about winter coming. How could she hide with the shrubbery of spring and summer gone? She would be out in the open, plus she would freeze to death, and panic set in. Each day she
looked for someone, anyone she could trust. She sized up strangers and tried to tell if they were able to help her. When she tried to approach them, she became the prey and a potential victim. She was afraid to beg and afraid to expose herself in any way. Like so many kids, she felt her only protection was to move closer into the city and find some group of kids to hang with. Maybe together, they could do better than she was doing.
She finally made it down to the iron bridge on Lebanon Road near Donelson. As she was crossing the bridge, 15 kids popped up from the creek below and clambered up the side of the steep embankment. She freaked and ran while looking over her shoulder, then crept as close to the iron side rails as possible, then listened to see if they had spotted her. They were all laughing, but some of the kids spotted her watching them. They looked at her with a puzzled look.
They seemed safe enough and didn't even look hungry. In fact, they looked in pretty good shape so she followed. She kept her distance and followed them to a car lot. There was a garage with bays full of vehicles with an older guy handing each one a pile of rags and buckets of soapy water. She slipped behind a little ten-year-old, acting as relaxed as possible, and no one noticed. She was given a pile of rags; and after a few minutes, she got the idea. They were here to clean cars, scrub tires, and wax the shine. A couple of kids cranked up the music, and it reminded her of a school car wash. For this instant, she was part of something that wasn’t dangerous.
For this moment, she was closer to others more than she had been all summer. It was like school, only work, like a work camp, except for the kids.
Finally, one of the kids said, "You're new here, aren't you? Have you been working down on Broad Street? You're pretty good with those rags." A Mayberry-looking, heavily freckled ten-year-old was smiling goofily at her as he waited for a reply.
She wished he’d stop and nodded saying, "Yeah, Broad Street. How long have you been here?"
"My name is Edward White, but everyone calls me Freckles. I've been here two weeks. My parents left me here and took off. Haven't seen them since. They were on their way to the Tullahoma orchards to do some picking. I don't think they're coming back. I guess this is my home now. At least I get food. I really like pizza, don't you?"
She almost bolted. Her stomach turned upside down at the thought of pizza, but she kept smiling, "Oh yeah, the greaser the better." She moved to get away from him by doing the next car sections exceptionally fast. He never took the hint, but an older kid interrupted and saved her from her new friend.
"I know you're new here so I want to help you understand the routine."
She remembered him from school. He was on her high school basketball team. She thought, "Is there anyone who hasn’t been affected by this terrible mess?"
I'm Stan, I kinda’ watch out for things for Mr. Alex. He wants us to keep everything clean and shiny. If you can put in a full day, it’s like Broad Street, except most of us are from Donelson, Hermitage, and a few from Lebanon. I’m from the Donelson area. I’ve been here about a month. We aren’t going to be as hard to work with as the downtown crew, so relax. I’ll make sure you get treated
right. You must have done a good job downtown to get moved out here. Let me introduce you to Carey."
He pointed to another girl standing over a group working on an old Cadillac. Carey was a
14-year-old with short, crew-cut-like hair, not much longer than Stan’s with noticeable blonde-orange streaks front-to-back. She wore a small diamond stud on the left side of her nose, a matching one in her ear, and her belly button was accented
by a tiny, silver ring. Her small facial features made her look mousy, but her actions demanded attention. Everyone knew she was the one in charge, not Stan. She wore a small tank top showing off her muscled abs and heavily muscled triceps, developed when she used to lift weights with an old boy friend. Her dark black eyes sparkled, and her pupils were always dilated by excitement. Everyone knew she liked being alive.
"Hey, Carey, can you come here a minute?"
Carey turned slowly, looked his direction; and instantly, her eyes locked on Anne's. She knew Anne was from the streets, but guys never figured it out. Anne's face was clean, and her blue jeans weren’t too dirty, but it was the haunted look in her face, and Carey knew she was homeless. Carey bet if someone belched loud enough, she’d dive under a car. She was right, being jumpy was a protective measure the street taught her. She was always ready to run away from the gangs. She learned quickly to get under cars. If a gang had to crawl under a car to get a hold of you, they left you alone, too many others around who were easier to catch. A couple times, she almost got caught by the Hermitage gangs; and if it hadn't been for how small she was and how low to the ground the cars she picked, they’d got her. Carey did the same thing about a month earlier and at this very same place. As she approached, she knew the other reason she was from off the street—Anne smelled. It was just like guys to overlook the obvious, just ‘cause’ it’s a girl—Anne smelled like the street.
"This is Anne, Carey. She's from downtown. I heard Freckles talking," said Stan.
"Oh really, well, they must not have showers downtown. Right, Anne?"
Anne's face turned beet red, and she dropped her eyes towards the floor. She started to answer, "Well, you see."
Carey elbowed Anne jokingly, "I see well enough. Unfortunately, I can smell. Why don't you come with me for a minute? Let's see if I can help."
When they smiled at each other, it was like a secret pact made in a moment, a small, superiority conspiracy of the sexes. It was obvious to them that the guys were too dumb to notice or didn’t want to. The guys couldn’t tell difference between sweat and three months worth of dirt and filth.
"Thank goodness," Carey thought, "no one ever died from being too dirty." Anne followed gratefully and knew she had found a friend.
The guys stood around looking at each other mystified and asked, "Where are they going?"
Anne’s shower felt great. It was one of the biggest relief’s of her life. She stayed in the shower for 30 minutes. Carey gave her some of her own jeans, even a pair with a tear in the knee, but Anne was so skinny that even Carey’s petite fours swallowed her. Carey found her an old t-shirt and a flannel shirt out of the dryer, leftovers
from kids who had left; and she kept checking on her till she was finished.
"You okay?" asked Carey.
"Yes, I’m wonderful! Thanks for helping me. It’s been a long time since anyone cared," she replied as they hugged lightly.
They had no idea their friendship would carry them to the end of time. Weeks later, Anne and Carey were the inseparable, clean duo. Anne helped Carey keep everyone on track, including spotting others from off the street. Anne had found a home for the first time in a long while. At least she was off the streets, but right now the magic duo wanted to talk with Alex.
"Mr. Alex," Anne said as she hesitantly approached him.
"Yes," Alex replied as he turned around and looked at his two best workers. They were like little shadows of grownups. He often thought since his visit from Casey that these girls would grow up to be good-looking women. For now, they were his best workers.
"What can I do for you? Need more rags?" Alex smiled and reached for some more clean ones.
"No," Anne spoke quietly. "We wanted to ask you about the guy who came by the other day in the limo."
"Oh, Casey?"
"Yes, Casey," they answered together.
"He seemed to think you kids were pretty neat. If possible, he thought there might be room for a lot more of you in different locations."
Alex liked the way Anne was turning out and teaming up with Carey. Carey’s bubbly personality and Anne’s almost insatiable need to please, made them great workers. Carey seemed to really take care of Anne, and he noticed quite an admirable improvement in both. They must be doing each other’s hair now. Anne’s sandy-colored hair kept getting shorter, probably Carey’s influence. While Carey was growing hers out some, probably Anne’s suggestion. He could swear they found some makeup somewhere. There were signs of eyeliners, blush, lipstick, and their eyelashes looked darkly accented. One of the older girls had gone to the downtown location and accidentally left her makeup kit behind. Carey and Anne found it and had been experimenting.
Anne's eyes went wide in disbelief. She was getting the idea that Alex didn't have a clue what Casey was. "Mr. Alex, did this guy Casey talk about us girls? About us older girls?"
"Not really. He mentioned the older boys and you together, nothing specific. Didn't I see you two run out back about the time he showed up?"
"Yes, but Mr. Alex, do you know what Casey does? I mean what he does for a job?" Both Anne and Carey moved closer to Alex so the other kids couldn’t hear.
"You girls seem a little very interested in Casey. He's just a businessman. I don't know exactly what he does, but he must be doing something right to afford the gas his limousine sucks up. Why? Do you want me to ask him if he might have a job for you two or something?"
"Oh, whoa, no, no, no! Please, Mr. Alex, don't ask him that! In fact, please don't mention we talked about him!" exclaimed Anne in alarm.
They were reeling at how this conversation was backfiring. This isn’t what they wanted at all. They wanted to find out, since they were the oldest, if they were going to be ushered off against their will to work for him. They backed away while waving Alex off.
"Just being nosy girls, Mr. Alex. We're fine. We want to stay right here. No problems. Thanks for your time, Mr. Alex."
They moved to the far end of the building and started grabbing rags and diving into a waxing job. They were shoving, poking, and hitting each other with the rags accusing, "It was your idea."
The other answering, "Not mine! Maybe you ought to go to work for him?"
They laughed as they continued to pelt each other saying, "I'm too good on my feet. I'm not ready to get paid to be on my back."
"You’re gross!"
Answering back, "You’re grosser!"
"You’re a Miss Goodie Two Shoes," Anne whispered to Carey and ran to the other side of a car.
Carey hollered back, "And, I suppose you’re not too?"
Anne, in a sober moment quietly came over to Carey, "I'm a Christian, Carey," almost apologetically, but still very quiet and serious.
Carey stood still for a minute, then hugged Anne and whispered back, "So am I." They both knew their bond was again being cemented stronger than ever. Now, they were joined by their faith.
Anne asked, "When did you give your life to Jesus, Carey?"
Carey answered dreamily as she remembered—the altar call, the rebirth, the excitement, and the change. It was wonderful, and there were all her friends who also got saved the same night. It was probably the smallest tent meeting in town with only several hundred attending, but it changed her life.
"It was near Donelson Baptist Church. It was a tent meeting with the evangelist Robert Cramer. I went on a dare from my Baptist friends, ‘cause he was a Pentecostal evangelist. How about you?"
"Well, we didn't go to church. Someone at school, Hunter Younger, gave me a Gospel tract about being a Christian. Later he walked me home telling me about accepting the Lord—I did. Then, Mom got sick and everything fell apart. You know, no matter how
scared I was when homeless if it hadn’t been for God, I don't think I’d made it. I always knew someone was watching out for me. I know this sounds silly. But when I’d hang out at the Hermitage Pizza Hut, I got some of the best pizzas I ever ate, just the way I liked them. They threw these pizza boxes on top the dumpster, and there I was. You know something else? I always noticed those guys who threw out those pizzas. They seemed to know I was there. I liked to think so. Boy, they hired the biggest guys I've ever seen. They looked like fullbacks. Do you know if any churches are still open?”
"Not many, it seems. When the times got really bad, people forgot all about God. They were too busy trying to get by. I think they thought God let them down. I've heard a lot of grownups saying the same thing. I never thought that but figured the grownups did this all by themselves without any help from God or us. They
messed it all up, and now we're paying for it. I heard a preacher once say there would be a 'falling out, down, no, away.' That's it 'a great falling away.' I think it’s happening now. I sure do miss church. I'll tell you what we can do. Let's start asking the rest of the kids to see if any are Christians. There has to be more than us two. If
we can find a Bible, we can get together on our own and have our own church. Let's try to get together like church to talk about Jesus. What do you think?"
"I think it's great, Carey, the preacher lady,"
Carey blushed and said, "Let's have our first prayer together, okay?"
"What about?" Anne thought Carey would pray that her parents would show up, but she didn’t.
"How about asking God to send us someone with a Bible, and someone who knows the Lord better than we do? How about someone who can take charge and really make this church thing work? What do you say, Anne?"
"Sure, come on. Let's go on break. We can pray out back."
They grabbed each other’s hand and yelled, "Break here!" as they ran out the back of the garage.
Open Doors
Keel sneaked back to his house and was able to scrape up some traveling gear. He knew the camping stuff was in the attic. He was able to get a sleeping bag and one of Grandma’s old, down pillows—a keepsake, his mom told him once. He found a hiking backpack and even his dad's original Thompson Chain Reference Bible. He had it when he went through Evangel Bible College. He even found one of his Dad’s favorite books called "Forgiveness." He set them aside and continued to fill up his backpack. He had two different hymnals from his church, a flashlight, a small Aladdin thermos, and one other item that was very important to him, a sterling-silver communion set. It was used for going to peoples' homes and offering communion. It was in a beautiful walnut box with a container filled with communion wafers and a small miniature chalice for the grape juice. It had a small bottle of olive oil in it. His dad got the oil in Israel on a Biblical Translation Tour. When Keel saw the box stuffed on a shelf, his heart did cartwheels. It was so personal and so much a part of his family and his dad that he carefully packed it away and forfeited his pillow in order protect it more.
The house was a total wreck. Why the gangs always destroyed the houses they left, he didn't know; it was unbelievable. His boat was overturned and sunk in the shallows with big holes in its bottom. They didn't leave anything untouched. He was surprised to find the attic intact. It may have been because the attic was entered by a crawl-through in the upper bedroom closet. You’d have to know it was there. Once inside, there were drop-down stairs, and it was locked from the inside. He could tell they tried to pry it open from the downstairs. He didn't know why it was set up that way, but he was glad now.
He knelt in the kitchen and prayed while clutching his dad's Bible, "Lord, you know I can't stay here with winter coming. I need to find some way to get food and find a safe place to stay. Lord, help me. I'll be listening for your guidance, in Jesus' name, amen." A great peace settled over him, but he didn't know where he was going. He did know God would lead him. He headed out to Lebanon Road towards downtown.
It wasn’t long before he was passing Alex's car lot. The Spirit of God spoke to him, "Here, stop here. This is where I want you to be." He was shocked by the instructions.
He prayed for a moment, "Are you sure?"
The answer was a powerful, "YES!"
Alex spotted Keel walking towards him and thought that he was acting a little weird; like he was talking to himself; but he was praying. "Oh well," thought Alex, "need to stretch my legs, anyway. Maybe this kid wants work or knows of some kids who do."
He still needed more for the downtown location. It was hard to keep them down there. They had to be tougher than the others, more streetwise, true survivors. The gangs in the area preyed on any kid, no one was safe. He tried holding off turning anyone loose down there. He didn't need to have anyone killed under his watch. It would ruin his reputation, no less, his employee factory.
"Hey kid, you looking for a ride? You look a little too young to drive." Alex chuckled and slapped Keel on the back letting him know he was only kidding.
"No, I," Keel stopped for a moment, not knowing what to say. It came to him, "I can work on cars. I used to fix my dad's car all the time, like tune-ups, brake jobs, rebuilding carburetors, replacing about anything if you got the tools. Do you need some help?"
Alex was delighted. He had everyone doing everything but serious mechanic work. This kid really knew how to show up at the right time. He was thanking himself for being so lucky, but it was not his luck. It was Keel getting God's perfect timing.
Answered Prayer
As Anne and Carey came back from their prayers, they started getting the kids to finish cleaning the bays before quitting time. Anne noticed Alex outside talking with a young man. Alex was pointing to the garage, and she could tell he was making a sales pitch.
"That kid can’t be older than 15 or 16. He can't be talking about buying a car," said Anne.
As the Keel turned, Carey spotted a black leather Bible sticking out of his backpack. "Anne, look, our prayer is answered. He's got a Bible. Do you think he’s going to join us? Why else is he here? Bet he's on his own, but he certainly doesn't look like he's been on the streets."
"Carey," said Anne, "if he joins us, we have our first answered prayer. You know, I recognize him. I know him from school. It's Keel Cramer, the youth evangelist's son. You see, God is bringing us a Bible and someone who knows about the scriptures too. Do they say praise the Lord in Baptist churches?"
Carey exclaimed, "Of course they do, and amen too." They both laughed together as Keel and Alex came inside.
Alex spoke loudly as he proudly introduced Keel to all the kids, "This young man, Keel, is our new mechanic. I'd like for a couple of you to learn as much as you can about what he knows. I always have room for someone who can work on the cars. For those who want to help Keel, I'll allow special breaks and even extra pay right in your pocket. What do you think about that?"
Anne and Carey raised their hands immediately, "Can girls be mechanics too?" they said in unison.
"Sure, but don't forget, I need you two keeping tabs on everyone else. Work it out between you." Alex turned and happily went back to his office.
Anne and Carey ran up to Keel. When they did, he felt the Holy Spirit leaping in His heart. He said simply, "God wants me here. Do you two have something to do with it?"
Anne and Carey kept saying, "Yes, yes, yes," and did little jigs of happiness in front of him.
"Praise the Lord," said Anne.
Carey poked her, "Stop stealing our Baptist lines, will you?" All three broke out laughing.
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