Take Flight

by T. E. Price

  “Anyway,” Tom says, standing up tall and pulling me back in, “I read about the ways God tested Noah’s faith by building the ark, preparing for the animals that God would send, getting them all on the ark, and then waiting as the rain poured for forty days and forty nights. It felt exactly like what I was going through—waiting out the storm, hoping my brother would recover.” We cross another street, “But, as I continued to read, I felt prompted to ask God to give me a sign in forty days, a sign that he was listening to me after all. I prayed that prayer every day, and just as Noah sent out a dove to find dry land and bring back an olive branch signifying the good news, God also sent me my dove. My brother woke up.” I hold back the tears as I gulp against my constricting throat. What a shock that must have been—a family choosing to cling to a God they didn’t know during a troubling time. “And through that whole process,” Tom continues, “I finally learned that I could place all of my trust in him. And now, every time I see a rainbow, like from Noah’s story, I’m reminded of how I placed my trust in God during that unpredictable and testing time in my life, and how God came through, even when it all seemed impossible.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say. “And Sarah was with you through it all?”

  Tom starts cracking some knuckles as he smiles over at me. “Sarah was a bit of a different story. Honestly, her family members are in the field of medicine, so she went to them to get some answers as to why Vincent finally came out of the coma. But she couldn’t get a scientific answer—because as you know, miracles can’t be explained by science. She really grappled with the fact that everyone in my family had given their lives over to Christ, and I think, in a way, she was still trying to find some scientific answer to explain the whole ordeal. That is,” he smirks, “until she talked to my brother. Vincent told her that he heard my father and mother’s—and eventually my—prayers spoken at his bedside. He said that he felt this sense of warmth, peace, and love that he’s never known before while he was in his coma. He knew it was God, so when he came out of the coma, there was no question that God existed. He stayed in the hospital for a while longer to recover, then he had to go back and complete his senior year. His educational path had been put on hold for so long, he knew his life had changed forever. Any chance of a scholarship was out the door, and he had to figure out what he was going to do with his life. But one thing was for sure, he wanted to follow God.”

  “So, Sarah heard all this, then decided to believe as well?”

  “Well,” he clarifies as we approach the swarm of black t-shirts, “it wasn’t that easy. For a while, she considered leaving me. She said I had changed so much, and she wasn’t sure if she could just reject her whole upbringing to go down the same path that my family had chosen. We had a lot of heated discussions, and it was rocky there for a while. But eventually, God won— she surrendered. Let’s just say, our marriage wasn’t perfect,” he draws up a shoulder and sighs, “it’s still not perfect.” With a brief nod, he lifts his tone to say, “but God’s working in our hearts, and we just have to take things one day at a time as we place our trust in Christ.”

  We approach the group, and just like that, our conversation is over. Tom waves a quick good-bye as he weaves around the people to find his wife. My heart fizzles. What did Tom’s last comment mean? Are they working through something now? They seem so happy, but maybe that’s every marriage. Maybe I’m not the only one facing hardships—although I hope and pray I don’t see anyone else getting divorced. What am I thinking? Tom and Sarah aren’t there. They’ve already overcome that hurdle, even if they are wrestling through something right now.

  I rub at my neck and toss my hair over to one side as I weave through the crowd. Tom’s story is something special…but it probably didn’t seem special when he was in the thick of it. Could that be the case for me, too? Of course, I can’t predict the future, but will I look back at this storm and eventually find my dove? Can I trust that at the end of this trial, when I finally sign those divorce papers, there will be a rainbow waiting for me? I reach the clear bin and return the empty care bag as those around me begin saying their good-byes. With the late afternoon sun still blazing down, I shield my eyes as my brother approaches. “Did you have a good time?” he asks.

  “Yeah—for sure,” I offer. “How about you?”

  “Oh yeah—I had a great time. Isabel is going to be sad she missed it this year. We usually get a babysitter, but I guess all the people who watch the twins are serving here today.” He throws up both hands in defeat, then chuckles. “Oh well. Anyway—I’m heading back to my car parked on the other side of town, near the campus.” He looks at his watch, then adds, “What are your plans?”

  “I gotta slip back to the apartment for a bit and change. I work the evening shift tonight, so I’ll get some down time before I go in, which should be nice.”

  Harrison says good-bye and walks back down Liberty. Sarah prances to my side, drops her empty care bag in one of the plastic bins and says, “I heard Tom told you all about our story. Pretty crazy, huh?”

  “You could say that again.” I grin, “I’m glad you chose Christ in the end. And I’m glad Vincent is okay. How’s his health now?”

  “Oh, he’s great—he’s finishing up his masters at Harvard this upcoming year, then he’ll be applying to med schools.”

  “So, he’s going into medicine then?”

  With a smirk, Sarah says, “Yeah—ever since the accident, he’s been dedicated to helping other people. He wants to be a doctor, and he says that when science and medicine can’t do the trick, he—of all people—knows the power of praying for a miracle.”

  “That’s awesome, I’m so happy for him. Maybe one day I’ll get to meet him.”

  “Absolutely. Just when you do, don’t stare at his scar.” She ducks her head and lowers her voice, “The scar on his throat, the one from the tracheotomy, is pretty nasty. He isn’t really that bothered by it, but it can’t be comfortable having people stare at it all the time and question what happened.”

  My gut tightens, “I know the feeling all-too well.”

  Sarah reaches for my hand and squeezes it, as if she knew I would be able to relate. Then, she changes the subject with ease. “Are you parked in the garage?”

  “No, actually—I found a spot on South Main, so I decided to use the meter.”

  “Nice, well I’m in the parking garage over there. So, I guess I’ll see you on Sunday?”

  “Okay,” I offer. Sarah’s so easy to talk to—she’s honest and real. We smile as we both wave and begin walking in opposite directions. I fan my neck as I quicken my pace. Gross. I can’t wait to get back to the apartment and shower. My clothes are melting into my skin. Blinded by the sunlight and zapped from the heat, I fall into my car, swing my door shut, and start the engine. Cranking the AC, I sit there with my eyes closed and my head back against the neck rest. Ah…finally, some cold air. The cool air blows on me for a while, then I eventually lean forward to put my car into drive. What’s that? Something fluttering in the wind on the other side of my windshield catches my eye. I peer harder, then gasp. A Davidoff Yamasa cigar, complete with the red and black wrapper, is tucked under my windshield wiper. But this time, it’s not burning.

  CHAPTER 22

  All the synapses in my brain ignite as my eyes fight through the crowd to find the outdoor patio. I’m too far away, even if he’s over there, I can’t identify his face. My hands quake with the surge of blood pumping from the thudding of my heart. This is not a coincidence—Jonathan’s here, in Ann Arbor. He’s trying to find me, and he’s close. Too close. My head turns, craning to get a panoramic view as my clammy hands grip the steering wheel. Is he watching me now? Is he waiting for me to get out of my car and remove the cigar? My jaw tightens. I won’t give him that satisfaction. He’s going to have to chase me. I lock my doors and pull slowly out of the parking space. Nice and easy. There’s no need to draw any attention—he could be distracted. My heart races as my foot quivers. Dear God!
I want to pound on the gas pedal, to flee the scene as quickly as possible, to get out of here before he can wreak anymore havoc. My chest caves and I swallow. The damage is done. His message has been sent. He’s not giving up.

  As I agonizingly creep along with the Friday afternoon traffic, my eyes dart. Where is he? I peer through the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of that all too familiar, dangerous face that still haunts me, but he’s nowhere in sight. If he had been close, he would’ve approached me while I was cooling off in the car. He had the chance to do whatever he wanted without a friend around to protect me. I clutch at my chest. He doesn’t have to keep up his reputation in this city. What is there to stop him? He’s a reckless man on a mission to get me back—to get me back, or to get back at me. A chill rises like a knife point sliding up my back.

  I crank the AC even higher, as if the cool air can counteract my sweaty palms. I knew I wasn’t going crazy last month. He was here—probably keeping his distance to figure out where I live. Oh my gosh—Harrison! What if Jonathan saw me talking with Harrison just then? What if the reason he’s not banging on my car window right now is because he’s following Harrison—expecting Harrison to lead him back to my new hiding place? My throat swallows a harsh gasp. What if he got to Harrison? Caught him off guard? Would he hurt my brother to get to me?

  The sound of a loud horn snaps me back, and I slam on the breaks. I exhale sharply. Red light. I’ve got to pay better attention. A car crawls through the intersection, and the driver turns to stare me down. So what? I slap one hand to my forehead and reach for my phone. There are more important things at hand … I’ve got to contact Harrison. It rings—one time, two … three. Is he going to answer?

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, thank God—are you okay?”

  My heart plummets with the momentary silence that follows. Harrison finally says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Why, what’s up?”

  With a quick exhale, my eyes land on the cigar still tucked under the windshield wiper. The red and black wrapper, now partially unraveled and blowing in the breeze, makes my stomach flop. In the time I’ve spent searching for Jonathan, my eyes have avoided the planted evidence of his presence. “He’s back,” I cry, “and I know it’s him this time.”

  Harrison doesn’t skip a beat, “Okay—where are you? I can come get you…we can go wherever you want so you feel safe. We don’t have to go back to the apartment.”

  A horn from behind makes me jump, and I look up to find a green light beckoning my idling car. “I don’t know what to do,” I whimper as I tap the gas only to slow down again as I approach another long line of cars at the next stoplight. “I’m so distracted, I keep trying to find him, and I feel like I’m gunna get in an accident. But I’m terrified, I feel like he’s gunna jump out at me while I’m waiting at these stupid, long lights.” My head swivels in all directions the moment I come to a complete stop. With my eyes inspecting the moving bodies on the sidewalk beside me, I add, “And I thought he got to you on your way to your car. I thought he might’ve hurt you.”

  “He didn’t get to me—I’m fine,” Harrison reassures me, “but I want to make sure you’re fine too. Where are you going now?”

  The line of cars begins to move, but I can’t speed above a slow crawl. My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest. “I’m still on South Main—but I have to go back to the apartment. I gotta work tonight. I can’t skip work, I need that money.” My chin quivers as my breath catches. How is it that my whole world can unravel from the sight of this red and black wrapper, still waving in the wind, as if it’s a flag used to signify the start of a war?

  “Okay,” Harrison responds, his voice steady. “Here’s the plan. You go back to the apartment, and I’m going to follow. As soon as you get there, get into the apartment as fast as you can, and I’ll wait outside in case he follows us there.”

  A tear slides down my face, “But what if he does follow us, and then he’ll know where I am—where the twins are?”

  Harrison grunts. “I’m navigating to South State right now, so as soon as you can, cross over to meet me. It’s the long way back to the apartment complex, but I’ll pull in behind you to see if anyone’s following.”

  Good idea. I turn on the windshield wipers. One quick swish, and the cigar flies away. Why can’t my fear disappear with it? I keep the phone glued to my ear, throwing all caution to the wind. All I want to hear is my brother’s reassuring voice helping me navigate safely home. I don’t care if it’s not safe, or if it’s illegal—I just need to get home without cementing my sight on the rearview mirror. By the time I get to the apartment complex, it appears as if the coast is clear. I park right next to the handicap spot directly in front of our building and storm up the stairs. The moment I’m through the front door, I lock the handle, slide the deadbolt, and fly up the second flight of stairs, taking them two at a time.

  I bolt to the kitchen and lean over the counter in an effort to see out the window. The taillights of Harrison’s SUV idle directly behind my parked car. I let my eyes roam for a full minute. Finally, my shoulders drop. There’s nothing going on out there. I guess we weren’t followed, and if we were, that’s up to Harrison to handle. I’ve got to get ready for work. I back away from the window, my breathing becoming more even. I pivot slowly, then jump as Isabel enters the kitchen.

  “You alright?” Her head tilts to one side.

  My chest rises and falls as my eyes drop to the kitchen floor. “No, not really. I found a cigar under my windshield wiper today when I was parked downtown … his cigar.”

  My eyes lift, and Isabel’s head cocks to the other side, as if she’s deciphering a code she can’t quite crack. “You mean, he’s in Ann Arbor—like, looking for you, right now?” I nod slowly. “What? He’s trying to follow you around downtown or something?”

  I rub my face as I walk past her and into the living room. She follows in my wake, waiting for my response. “I guess,” I slump down on the couch. “I thought the burning cigar from last month was a coincidence, but now I know he was here, and he was sending a message. I haven’t changed my plates, and he knows what my car looks like—I mean, he paid for it. Maybe that’s why he paid for it, so he feels like he has a right to it … I dunno. But downtown isn’t that big, so he probably just thought he would plant himself in the most populated area and wait until he caught a glimpse of something familiar.” I curl my knees into my chest and shudder. “I honestly didn’t think he would be that determined to find me, and I didn’t think I would be that easy to find. He’s never even been to Ann Arbor—so it was a shot in the dark.” I throw my head back and close my eyes for a second, then say, “That must be what he’s been up to these past couple of months. I thought his silence was weird, but I hoped it was a sign he was giving up—not a sign he was trying to find me, again.”

  With a tentative glance down the hall, Isabel moves closer, then perches herself in the recliner next to me, “Do you think he knows where you’re staying now? Should I be worried?” and she looks down the hall again.

  “I don’t think so. Harrison’s downstairs right now, keeping a look out and waiting for me to get changed into my work clothes—then he’s going to drive me to work, even though I don’t have to be there for a while.”

  “And then what, Hallie? I mean, it’s July—you still have three months until you sign those divorce papers and meet up in court. Now that he knows you’re in Ann Arbor, he probably won’t leave you alone.”

  A sour taste fills my mouth. I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve been so focused on escaping from him and getting here without him following me that I haven’t had time to think about what the next three months are going to be like. And what about after that? What happens if he doesn’t leave me alone, even after we sign the divorce papers and finalize this in court? “Maybe we end this early. I mean—who are my parents to demand that I wait a whole year to finally be free from that monster?” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I can’t do that to my par
ents. The last thing I told them when I left Oklahoma was that I’ll hold to the promise I made them. I squeeze my eyes shut. I would give anything to end it all right now, but I’ve come this far, and I need to show them I can honor their wishes. My eyes flutter open and I clench my teeth. I can still be a fighter. It doesn’t matter if I don’t feel like one … I am one. I plant my feet back on the carpet, holding my posture for a second, then hunch my shoulders over. “What does free even mean—what if he’s always trying to find me? What if I lead him back here to the twins?”

  As if on cue, Isabel’s eyes float over to the hall again, “Well, they’re napping now, but we’ll do what we must to protect you and the twins. Don’t you worry about that.” My face contorts with the apology that’s playing on my lips. Isabel reads me like a book. “It’s fine, Hallie. We’ve always been fine, and we’ll lock the doors at all times. Harrison spends a lot of time at home, so he’ll be here to protect us. And we’ll pray Jonathan manages to stay away—I mean, he’s gotta work sometime, doesn’t he? He can’t be taking all this time off work, so there’s hope there.” She lifts her eyebrows so that her features match her even tone.

  “I just dunno, Isabel. I really thought I was safe here—and things are starting to look up. I’ve got friends now, and you know how helpful Tom and Sarah are. But when will this all be over? I mean, now that I’m aware of what lengths he’ll go to, I can’t be naïve enough to think he’ll leave me alone after the divorce is final.” A groan starts in my belly and slips out of my mouth, “I just need something to hold against him—something that will force him to leave me alone. I need a way to blackmail him.”

  Isabel runs a finger across her lips as she sinks back into the recliner. “What if,” she starts slowly, “you called him and recorded him. You could try to get him to confess to all the things he did to you while you were married. If you have it recorded, then you could tell him to leave you alone, or you’ll press charges. And then, if you needed to, you could use that recording as evidence against him in court.”