“Come on.” Pastor Alan and Daneen were on their feet, too. They crossed the room.
Sharee hung behind and waited until the nurse finished speaking. John signed something, picked up a few papers, and settled the crutches under his arms.
“That was quick,” Pastor Alan said. “We didn’t expect you this soon. You know how slow emergency rooms are.”
John’s eyes flicked toward Sharee but came back to the pastor and his wife. “Well, I refused half their tests and told them to bandage what they could see and let me out—against doctor’s orders. The foot has a fracture. They want me to stay on the crutches for a few weeks, and they have an air cast they want me to get from an orthopedist tomorrow. It comes off so I can shower or sleep.”
“And they had the crutches for you?”
“Not the usual. Someone left them months ago and never came back to get them, so they gave them to me. They fit well. The nurse was glad to see them go.”
“Anything else?”
“Just scrapes and bruises.”
“Well, you need a ride home. Daneen and I will be glad to take you or….” The Pastor’s voice trailed off as he glanced at Sharee.
“Thanks,” John said. “I’ll take you up on the ride.”
Sharee bit her lip and looked down. He had called them, after all. Not her. They started for the door.
“What about your arm?” Daneen asked.
“The wrist and right hand took the brunt of the fall. Torn up from the road, and they’re sore, but neither is broken. That’s a miracle, although it makes it hard to work the crutches. Also, I have a nice gash on my side. Must be from the car. Somehow. They stitched it up. I’ll be fine.”
Sharee followed. Her heart’s erratic pumping sounded loud. Pain enveloped her. What did she expect? That he would welcome her with open arms?
The double doors opened, and Pastor Alan and Daneen went out. John turned to her, leaning on the crutches, holding the door open with his back.
“Thank you for coming.”
His voice held a detachment that caused her chest to tighten. She dropped her head. He settled the crutches under his arms and began to move forward.
“Sharee.”
“Yes?” She forced the word. He didn’t need to see the tears that sprang to her eyes. Light spilt through the hospital’s glass doors and hit her face, and the wetness on her lids starred. She blinked it away, and John stopped. Quiet settled between them, wavered, and gripped her heart.
John settled the crutches and leaned forward. “This will sound strange, but I think whoever hit me…did it on purpose.”
Her head rose to meet his look of wonder, and he straightened and hobbled forward again.
***
Sharee slipped into church fifteen minutes late Sunday morning. She found a seat at the back. Miss Eleanor, her eighty-five year old friend and Bible study partner, eyed her from her place across the aisle. Since she always arrived on time, if not early, Sharee knew some wry comments might come her way after the service.
Pastor Alan had cut short the praise and worship as he usually did when they had guest speakers. Today Bob Ferguson and John filled the role. She settled back in her seat while he introduced Bob. John sat on the platform, too, not far from the podium.
Bob walked to pulpit, his infectious smile encompassing the whole congregation. Sharee’s heart swelled as he began to talk about God’s love and how he realized God’s call on his life at sixteen. A few minutes later, he shared how their daily routine during the last month consisted of long hikes through the jungles, going from village to village, sleeping on dirt floors, eating rice, rice and more rice.
“One village,” he said, “killed their only chicken for us and added it to the rice. John knew the honor they were doing us, but he didn’t realize he’d find the beak and parts of chopped feet in his bowl.”
The congregation laughed.
“Indonesia is often called the land of a thousand islands. In truth, it has over 17,000. We took a boat to the first island. From there, we caught a ministry plane.” He glanced John’s way. “Of course, John was itching to fly, but I think he spent some time in prayer after we boarded that first plane. Some of the planes over there…well, let’s say, it takes faith to fly them.”
John cleared his throat. “I seem to remember your head bowed as we took off.”
Giggles rolled across the room.
Bob grinned. “But what a lush wilderness we found when we landed. The jungles have hundreds of species of orchids. The wildlife is incredible—elephants, fruit bats, komodo dragons, orangutans, iguanas. Some animals are found nowhere else on earth. Of course, volcanoes have formed much of the land. They call the islands the Fire Islands.”
He stopped to click a video that showed the flora and fauna of the area. After a few minutes, he clicked it off. “We were able to minister often. Some villages had very seldom seen anyone from the outside, and had no Christians. We preached and shared the Gospel. Other groups welcomed us back. I had been to some before.” He gave a detailed summary of their ministry.
When he finished, he looked over his shoulder at John, a smile widening across his face. “But let me give you a view into one man’s experience.”
John straightened in his chair.
“Mission trips are times of discovery—about ourselves and each other. John, I found out, is a clean freak. Not necessarily a good thing in the midst of the jungle. We arrived late at the first village, so John thought he would get up early and go down to the river to wash. He didn’t realize the whole village would follow him and stand on the banks to watch.” A ripple of laughter rose from the congregation. “We both got use to soaping up with half our clothes on. Soap is a luxury in the villages, and John lost his soap the second week in trying to get out of the way of an angry bull that wanted his place in the river.”
More laughter.
“Of course, we were told not to go into the water except where they showed us. One morning, John decided he was going to bathe in private. So, he got up very early and slipped down to the river, around the bend, and went away from the village. He was about to step into the water when one of the smaller boys, who had followed him, grabbed his arm, and hauled him back. That particular section of the river belonged to a large crocodile.” A ripple of amusement moved over the congregation. “Whatever angel God had watching over John had double duty on this trip.”
Sharee’s eyes rested on John’s face. Bob’s stories amused, but her breathing deepened. With a different ending, the stories would be tragedies.
Bob’s voice changed, and his next story described the time they received small arms fire as they flew low over one island.
“The persecution of Christians is well documented in parts of Indonesia. Churches have been burned, and people killed because of their faith. It is known that missionaries fly not only supplies but also the Word of God into the villages. I thank God for the skill of our pilot that day, and for God’s answer to prayer.”
Her heart kicked into overdrive. John hadn’t mentioned that nor the other problems they’d faced. Of course, they hadn’t had time. Not with his proposal. If she said yes to that proposal, would she be brave enough to face these things? Her faith said yes, but she had to know God’s will for sure.
After the strain of the last couple of weeks, it was hard to concentrate much less hear God’s voice. Some people said just go with peace, but she didn’t feel peace either way.
She hadn’t told anyone about the calls because she’d waited for John to get back. Without thinking it through, she’d planned to dump the whole thing on him—expecting that he would have a solution. But how could she explain it to him now?
Her heart thudded in her ears. She rose, slipped out the back of the church and headed for the field. The bleachers at its edge beckoned her. She climbed up a few rows and sat, her eyes closed. Just give me a billboard, Lord. Tell me what to do.
Close at hand, the bleachers creaked as someone else ascende
d them.
“Sharee?” Pastor Alan sat down near her. “You bolted out of church. Are you okay?”
Her throat tightened, and her mind jumped from one explanation to another.
“John tells me you two haven’t spoken since the night of the accident.”
“I…no, we haven’t.” Her heart hurt. John hadn’t called, and she hadn’t either. Since Tuesday.
The Pastor’s face showed concern. “You want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.” She cleared her throat. “I’m embarrassed to say that, but I just don’t know. I’ve prayed. I’ve asked God to show me, but I haven’t heard anything. It’s like I’m waiting for something to happen, only I don’t know what.”
“You’re praying about whether to marry John or not?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. What about the phone calls? Have they stopped?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Did John tell you he wants to go back to Indonesia in six months?”
“No.” The pastor shifted on the bleachers. “And he wants you to go with him?” She nodded. He let out a long sigh. “So he wants to get married and go back in six months? That sounds like him. He’s never liked to wait for things.”
“Well, I wish he’d waited this time.”
“Sharee, confusion’s not from God. Look inside and see what you’re afraid of. Get into the Word. God’s not given you a spirit of fear. He’s given you one of power and love and a sound mind.”
“I know.”
The side of his mouth lifted, and his smile reminded her of John’s. They seemed more like brothers than cousins even though ten years separated them.
He put a hand out and lifted her to her feet. “Let’s get back in church. Listen to what John has to say, to what God did during his trip. You might hear something you need.”
“Okay.”
They stepped to the ground. “You know, when John makes up his mind about something, he jumps in—with both feet. He’s been like that since he was a kid, and he gets a lot accomplished that way. But it also can cause trouble. He could use a good balance.”
They walked to the church. Pastor Alan stopped and let her go in alone. She slipped into the back pew.
John was standing at the podium, his crutches resting against the chair behind him. He stopped talking when he saw her, his hand shoving his hair back from his forehead.
He cleared his throat. “I think I need to balance some scales here.” He glanced at Bob, a smile starting at the corners of his mouth. “I have some stories of my own.”
Bob’s protestations added to the group’s amusement. Sharee laughed along with the others as John told some anecdotes about Bob. Then John’s voice changed, and he began to share how a trip that had started as a blessing for others ended by changing the priorities of his life.
A few minutes later, he cleared his throat. “I saw God work in so many situations, in so many people, and He used that to touch me deeply. That kind of power and love humbles you, and makes it easy to surrender everything to Him. In Philippians 3:7-8, Paul says ‘What things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ…and I count all things…loss for the excellency of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.’”
Someone in the congregation murmured, “Amen.”
John turned and limped back to his seat as the congregation broke out in applause. Pastor Alan walked to the podium and began to pray.
Sharee didn’t hear what he said. Her mind focused on what John had shared, the awe he’d felt and shared. It stirred her. She wanted what he’d experienced. Her trips as a teenager had excited her, opened new worlds and shown her real poverty; but she hadn’t returned as John had, filled with the wonder of God’s presence.
Pastor Alan’s prayer ended. People rose and brushed past her. She looked up in time to see John hobble out the side door, crutches under his arms; and she smiled. He’d want his space now, his privacy. Bob had been right about that. John needed privacy. In many ways, he was a loner; and yet sometimes she wondered if she wasn’t more so.
Someone stopped beside her. Sharee glanced up and smiled. China Summers gave her a shy smile. The girl had graduated high school last year, started college and now helped with the youth group. She’d changed a lot, her dress and hair reflecting the college scene. She’d dyed her rich brown hair black and her eye make-up gave her eyes a slight slant. A tiny diamond rested in her left nostril.
“John was totally awesome. I mean, he’s never spoken at the youth meetings. He helps keep the guys in line, that kind of stuff, but I’ve never heard him speak. But he was awesome today.” China’s voice sounded rushed and a little high. “And he looked great.” Her gaze bounced from Sharee’s seat back to her face. “How come you’re sitting back here?”
Sharee stood and lifted her Bible and her purse. “Oh, I came in late.”
“Hmm…” China studied her. “Bet you’re glad he’s back, aren’t you?”
“Of course.” And why aren’t I prepared for this type of comment, Sharee chided herself. I knew people would have questions.
“He has a great tan. He’s always been pretty hot, but now… Well, he looks even better.” China smiled and turned to go.
Miss Eleanor inched her way through the people to stand next to Sharee. Her blue eyes looked out of a wrinkled face surrounded by white hair. “John did himself proud. I think he’s going to make a good missionary.” She titled her head. “You remember what I told you?”
Sharee nodded and tightened her grip on the chair in front of her. “Yes.” How could she forget? Miss Eleanor hardly ever made phone calls and when she did, you listened.
Miss Eleanor nodded. “Good.”
***
Sharee avoided calls during the day and the texts that vibrated her phone. She loved her friends, but they could ask hard questions. She’d done a good job most of the week, but today Lynn Stapleton and Marci Thornton had her hitting her phone’s ignore button all afternoon. Finally, she sent a text telling them she needed their patience and that when she could talk, she’d get in touch. Not that that would keep them but a day or two. She shook her head.
She walked through her apartment, checking the time. As it was, the evening service would bring questions she might find it hard to avoid. They might both descend on her, along with others.
Her phone rang. Won’t they ever give up? She reached to hit the ignore button and saw John’s picture. Her heart stopped. It rang again and then a third time, and she stabbed the green button.
“John?” Her voice squeaked.
“Are you going to church?”
“What? Oh, yes. I… Are you?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh.”
“But I’m working out here. If we don’t want a hundred questions from well meaning friends, perhaps we should.”
“We?”
“If you’re going, I’ll be there.”
“I...I was planning on it.”
“All right.”
Silence dropped, and a minute later, the phone went dead.
She watched while his face disappeared from the phone, her heart thudding. He would be there tonight. Bringing her hands together in a fist, she pressed them hard against her chest and bowed her head.
***
John slipped the phone back into the case on his belt and stood for a moment in the cool of the work shed, head down. She hadn’t called all week. The knife thrust to his gut was just as sharp as on Tuesday when he’d stood looking at her windswept hair and the uncertainty in her eyes. Nothing had prepared him for that. A month of serving God had ended with his hopes slammed against the rocks of her indecision.
He unhooked the shovel from the wall. When he’d left a month ago, she’d whispered “I love you” at the end of their kiss, and it had not been the first time she’d said it. Was he a fool for believing her?
Over the last few days, anger had replaced the pain of her indecision, had replaced the calm peace that flew b
ack with him all the way from Indonesia. He’d lived with that kind of anger before and knew its dangers. If he had kept talking to her now, it would have found its way into his voice.
No, she hadn’t called since Tuesday but neither had he. That he hadn’t was wisdom on his part. He could hurt her with his words, and right now, he wanted to.
***
Sharee’s phone chimed again as she parked the CR-V in the church parking lot. She pulled the phone from her purse. Glancing at it, her heart jolted. Unknown caller. Whoever it was, was back. She stared as it rang again then jabbed it on.
“Would you quit calling, please?” Her voice sounded guttural even to her own ears. “Whoever you are, just stop it.” No sound came from the phone, and she stabbed at the face again, turning it off.
Maybe she would get a chance to tell John. He’d called, broken their stalemate. Perhaps they could talk… She thrust the phone back into her purse, slipped her Bible under her arm and climbed from the car. So many times this week, she’d reached for the phone to call him only to put it down. What would she say?
A girl laughed, and Sharee twisted her head in that direction. John, his crutches propped under his arms, looked down at China Summers. They stood in front of the office, across the patch of grass from where she stood. The girl’s black hair caught the fading light, its healthy shine shifting with the evening breeze. Two potted azaleas rested between them, and a shovel leaned against a tree.
Crutches or not, it didn’t surprise her that John had jumped back into work again, doing maintenance at the church as before.
He said something she couldn’t hear and shoved his hand through his dark hair. China laughed again. Sharee’s heart squeezed.
She turned and walked to the fellowship hall. She’d wait inside until the service started. Fishing for answers to personal questions was not her forte`. Opening the door, she slid into the darkened room and stood for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the shadows. She started forward but came to an abrupt halt.
Two figures stood outlined against a window, a man and a woman embracing. No one moved.
“Marci?” Sharee heard the hesitancy in her own voice.
As Long As You Both Shall Live: A Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 2) Page 2