The Lights of Tenth Street

by Shaunti Feldhahn

  “Well, I’ll be back this afternoon. I can probably fit in an hour or two before Genna is done with preschool.”

  The woman made a notation on her pad. “See you later, then.” She gave a brief smile and turned away.

  Sherry drove home and pulled the van into the garage, sitting for a moment as if gathering her courage. Then she ventured upstairs as if it was new territory.

  There was a little nook by the window that would do fine. A little corner with an overstuffed chair and reading lamp that were rarely used. The only time she read anymore was in bed, after the kids were asleep, while Doug—propped up on the pillows beside her—perused the latest spreadsheets from work.

  She pulled out her Bible, a pen, and a simple journal, and sat in the comfy chair. She looked at the clock, and then bowed her head and spoke aloud, feeling somewhat foolish.

  “Lord, for the next week, at least, I promise that I’ll spend an hour with You each day. Help me to be faithful. Come visit with me now, and help me learn more of You. Help me to know how to pray for Doug, for our family, for our marriage.”

  She opened the Bible to the beginning of Acts and began to read. It suddenly felt like coming home.

  The conference table was littered with papers, charts and spreadsheets peeking out from under haphazard piles. The other offices were dark, the frenetic activity of the operations floor stilled for the weekend. Inside the small conference room, the few remaining people sipped lukewarm coffee and soda. It was getting late on a Friday night, and no one wanted to let exhaustion influence promises that would get them fired on Monday morning.

  The whiteboard at the side of the room bore the scattered marks of multiple scribblings and erasures. Standing beside it, Doug finished his last statement, yawned, and capped his pen with a definitive click.

  Gil rose and slapped Doug on the back. “Good man! That eliminates the UNIX cost-sharing problems. I would never have thought of that structure. I see why Jordan calls you a miracle worker. Thanks for all the effort you’re putting in on this.”

  Doug glanced sideways. Jordan didn’t look over, but kept pecking at his laptop. Doug cleared his throat.

  “I’m just doing my job, Gil. Just remember that there are still a few big hurdles to cross.”

  “Yes, yes. Of course. Ever the cautious one, eh, Jordan?”

  “Um-hm.” Jordan nodded, intent on his computer. “I’ll be done here in just a second.”

  “You two are a regular Laurel and Hardy,” Gil said. “Well, since we’re almost done here, I say we think about getting some dinner.”

  Doug’s tired mind went to his lonely hotel room. And the looming TV. “Good idea. You want to know the truth? I’m tired of room service.”

  “Anxious to get back to the wife and kids—what, Sunday?”

  “Actually, I’m hoping to get home before then if I can reschedule my Saturday meeting.” Doug noticed Jordan’s sideways look. “My little girl is in the Christmas play at church, and I’d really like to be there.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” Gil clasped his hands over his full paunch and rocked back and forth on his feet. “That’ll be a nice little surprise.”

  “That’s the idea. I don’t want to tell them ahead of time, in case I don’t make it. But it would be great to surprise them if I can.”

  Jordan raised his eyebrows, his gaze still on the screen, and made a crude joke about what reward Doug would be expecting from his grateful wife.

  Gil slapped Doug on the back again. “Let’s think about food, eh? Anyone have a preference?” Gil elbowed Jordan in the side. “I believe I have a hankering for some buffalo wings tonight.”

  “You always have a hankering for buffalo wings, Gil,” Jordan said.

  One of the other men spoke up, grinning. “Sign me up!”

  Gil clapped his hands together, still enjoying his private joke. “You like buffalo wings, Doug?”

  Doug cocked an eyebrow. “What am I missing?”

  “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

  Following Gil’s Suburban through the busy Friday night streets, Doug heard his cell phone ring somewhere down in his bag. He kept one hand on the wheel and fished for the phone with the other.

  “Doug Turner.”

  The caller introduced himself and said, “My secretary said it was urgent—I hope I’m not calling too late.”

  “No, not at all.” Doug sent up a silent, urgent prayer. “Listen, I’m sorry to ask you this so late, but I’m wondering whether you’d be open to rescheduling our brunch meeting tomorrow. Actually, I’m wondering whether it would be possible to do a Monday conference call instead.”

  He held his breath, waiting through a long pause.

  “Anything’s possible, I suppose, but it’ll be difficult to work through all the details via phone. And of course I did want you to meet my colleagues.” Another pause. “I’ve expended some considerable effort to coordinate this meeting, you know.”

  “I understand, and I’m sorry to do this at the last minute. A personal matter has come up that makes it important for me to fly back first thing in the morning. But I know you’ve put a lot into getting the parties together. If you feel it’s too late to cancel now, I could of course keep the meeting, but I’d strongly prefer to head back to Atlanta if at all possible.”

  “It certainly sounds important. I hope it’s not a family emergency.”

  “It’s not exactly an emergency, but it’s important for me to be there.”

  He stopped talking, but his caller didn’t respond. “I have a little girl who’s four years old. She’s having a tough time with the fact that I’m going to miss her big performance in a Christmas play on Saturday evening.”

  “A Christmas play?”

  “Yes, a Christmas play. And if I do our meeting and take the three o’clock flight, I won’t get home until after eleven at night, given the time difference. I thought she was okay with it, but she’s apparently rather distraught. I feel that I owe it to her to be there, if I can.”

  “Did you not know about the play before you scheduled the meeting?”

  “Actually, if you want to know the truth, I plain forgot about it. My wife says she told me what date it was, but I just didn’t remember when I was scheduling the meetings out here. I didn’t realize the problem until my wife saw my flight itinerary.”

  He heard chuckling on the other end of the line. “I bet you were in big trouble.”

  “That’s one way of putting it. I told her I really couldn’t change the meeting—as you’d already started arranging it—but now after hearing how upset my little girl is, I thought I’d try to surprise them if it’s at all possible. I do apologize. You deserved better.”

  “Well, it’ll be a pain in the rear end, I’m not saying it won’t, but you go home to your little girl. I’m sure my colleagues won’t mind having their Saturday morning back.”

  In the lonely rental car, a grin lit up Doug’s face.

  His caller continued before he could respond. “And as long as we can do that conference call by noon on Monday, we should have time to complete the deal by close of business. Even though my colleagues haven’t met you, I’ll vouch for your word. You’ve never steered me wrong. Straight as an arrow, I told ’em. Straight as an arrow.”

  Doug sent up a heartfelt prayer of gratitude. “I’m glad you think so. And thanks so much for understanding.”

  “Ach.” The gruff voice lightened a little. “It’s not the end of the world. Maybe I’ll do some secret Christmas shopping for my wife and kids while they think I’m at the meeting.”

  Doug laughed, suddenly feeling light as a feather.

  He followed Gil’s car around another few sharp turns as he signed off the call, promising to set up the conference call Monday morning, first thing, California time.

  Ten minutes later, Doug stepped out of the car in front of a low building with neon lights, a busy front door, and no windows. An aqua sign, “Blue Oasis,” rotated slowly above the building.
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br />   The other cars pulled up and the drivers climbed out, their faces eager.

  He walked over to Gil and Jordan, who had ridden together.

  “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

  “Oh, come on.” Jordan waved a hand. “Get some food, have some of Gils favorite buffalo wings, and kick back for an hour.”

  The others were waiting with impatience a few feet away, their collars turned up against the chill.

  Doug knew he should just beg off, but he really didn’t have the energy for another “I-know-I-said-I’d-be-there-but …” conversation. So he wavered. He hadn’t been in a strip club in years, not since a similar business trip to Bangkok, when he was right out of business school. Jordan had tried to get him to join the other executives on a few client nights, but he always had a convenient excuse. Now, he not only had no excuse, he wanted to join the gang rather than sit alone in his hotel room, staring at the television and fighting a battle of wills with the remote control. Especially now that he knew he’d be going home to Sherry tomorrow night.

  Here, at least, there was a group of people, ready to kick back, relax, and have a good time. They’d be eating and talking of other things, not staring in lonely compulsion at the stage. Not indulging in a solitary, shameful craving. Here, the battle would be out in the open and therefore have less power. Much better.

  He nodded his acquiescence and joined the group as they headed for the front door.

  FIFTEEN

  Loriel came to a stop twenty feet above the teeming airport security gates and scanned the crowd, waiting. His troop crowded into the area, their eyes watchful but not troubled. The Spirit had given them no heightened level of caution tonight, and the usual team was well on duty.

  Loriel watched idly as a young woman walked through the scanner directly below him. The intent-eyed, middle-aged woman at the security station scanned the traveler’s bag as it passed through, and began to turn to the next one. Within moments, a shining being was at her side, speaking to her.

  She paused, and ran the scanner back, staring more closely at the shot of the young woman’s bag. Suddenly, she sat up straight and pressed a button beside her console. Two security officials converged on her station, and she pointed at the screen, her voice low.

  The officials pulled the traveler aside, did a hand search of her bag, and came up with nothing. Loriel watched the young woman’s tension grow as they made a call on their walkie-talkies. Within minutes, another official with a dog appeared. The dog sniffed the bag and began whining, pawing at the underside.

  One of the security officers clamped the young woman’s arm in a vise grip. “You must have a fair amount in that false underside, young lady. Why don’t we just take a walk over to the narcotics squad station and see what’s really under all that leaded shielding?” Loriel could hear him chuckle as they took her away.

  Loriel felt the Lord’s gentle nudge, and rapidly turned his attention back to the thronging lines of people below him. He zeroed in on a middle-aged man who was approaching the frequent-traveler security checkpoint. He was pulling a small rolling bag and looking at his watch, his face bored.

  The man presented his driver’s license to the official on duty, who greeted him with familiarity. The guard made a joke as he swiped the traveler’s credentials through his card-reader. Instantly, a red light came on at the security station, and a low alarm sounded. The man and official both looked up, surprised.

  Loriel made a motion with his hand and one of his troop disappeared. A moment later, a very large security officer appeared from around a corner and began questioning the traveler, rather roughly pulling him aside.

  The other people in the line looked on, curious, as the officer began demanding to see the traveler’s identification, ticket information, and bag. The traveler glanced around, embarrassed, as the officer set the bag on a table and began searching it, pulling out each item one by one and slowly inspecting it.

  Loriel watched, amused, as the officer held up a small pink packet. “And just what is this?”

  The man stammered. “A gift—That’s a gift for my wife. That’s her favorite sort of cosmetics—”

  “Open the packet, please.”

  The man complied, sneaking a peak at his watch. He held it up. “See? Just lipstick and stuff—”

  The officer held out his hand. “May I see the lipstick, please?”

  Bemused, the man handed it over and watched as the officer uncapped the lipstick and took his time manipulating the tube, tugging it this way and that, pressing on the metal seam, and closely inspecting the lipstick balm itself.

  “What—”

  The large officer spoke without discontinuing his efforts. “You see, sir, we’ve had warnings of people smuggling illegal substances in fake cosmetic cases.” He finally recapped the lipstick and turned back to the packet. He held out his hand. “May I see the eyeliner pencil, please?”

  Loriel laughed to himself. His colleague was having a little too much fun at this. Hopefully, the faithful servant below would honor his Lord and keep his temper. He’d understand, in time. Loriel’s thoughts ran ahead and he gathered other members of his troop and gave careful instructions, dispersing them to their other assignments. The timing had to be just right. Too much was hanging on it.

  Eric Elliott stared at the implacable gate agent and could feel his temper rising. Through the massive window behind her, he could see his plane still sitting there, preparing to depart.

  “I’m sorry sir.” Her brassy voice carried no twinge of regret. “But that’s our policy. If you’re not here fifteen minutes before the flight, we reserve the right to—”

  “Look, I understand that, okay? You don’t have to keep repeating it.” Eric’s normally calm manner was vanishing as quickly as his prospects of getting home to his family. And all because of some stupid makeup. “But I even called ahead that I was stuck at the security checkpoint, and someone at this gate promised they’d hold the seat. I’m a good customer, and—”

  “Sir, I don’t know who you talked to, but the fact remains that all the seats are—”

  “What seems to be the problem here?”

  Eric turned as a red-jacketed supervisor walked up to the desk. The agent cleared her throat as the supervisor went behind the desk and began scrutinizing the computer record.

  “I was just explaining to Mr. Elliott that it will probably be tomorrow morning before—”

  The supervisor held up her hand and spoke directly to Eric. “I apologize for the inconvenience, sir. I do see a note here in the record that you were in the terminal and stuck at the security gate. Per our policy for top customers such as yourself, your seat should have been held. I apologize. However, since your seat was released, and the plane is now completely full, we’re going to have to make other arrangements.”

  The gate agent broke in. “I told Mr. Elliott about the weather front—”

  The supervisor gave her a quelling look and continued speaking to Eric. “As you have no doubt heard, all our other flights have been delayed and will probably be cancelled once this front gets here. In all honesty, our first flight out of here in the morning will have a significant delay due to all the backups.” She tapped on the computer keys. “I show an 11:30 departure that will get you into Atlanta at 6:30 P.M. I can give you priority seating on that flight.”

  Eric clenched his fists. After all I’ve done! He caught himself and shook his head. Well, Lord it’s in Your hands.

  He watched the bank of windows as his intended plane pulled slowly away from the gate. He turned back to the supervisor. The brassy gate agent had somehow disappeared.

  “Listen, I’m supposed to see my little girl in a children’s Christmas play tomorrow night at my church. It’ll break her heart if I’m not there on time. Do you have any other ideas for me?”

  “Oh, sir.” The supervisor tapped furiously on the keyboard as she spoke. “I want to try to help you, but even if we put you on another airline—which
we’d be very willing to do—you’d have the same problem. Hold on … no … the other flights are booked solid, too, and in another twenty minutes or so, nothing’s going to be leaving here until midmorning tomorrow.”

  Eric sighed. “Well, thanks for trying. I appreciate your willingness to help.”

  “Sir?”

  He looked up as she paused, hesitating. “Yes?”

  “If you don’t mind a personal question … are you a believer?”

  Eric gave her a tired smile, noticing for the first time the small gold cross pinned to her lapel. “Yes, I am.”

  “I thought so. Me, too. I appreciate that you were gracious under pressure, instead of yelling at my gate agent.”

  “Well …” Eric gave a short laugh. “I still have to work on what was being said in my head.”

  The supervisor grinned. “I understand. And frankly, you can’t always tell believers by how they behave. It’s sad, but I’ve had many a fervent churchgoer get exercised and take it out on me or my staff.”

  “I’m so sorry. You must have to put up with so much.”

  “Sometimes. I just smile through gritted teeth and keep repeating Matthew 5:41 to myself over and over.”

  “And that is …”

  “If an unjust person demands that you carry his burden for one mile, carry it for two … if an unjust person demands that you carry his burden for one mile, carry it for two …”

  Eric laughed outright. “That’s good. I’ve been in a few business deals where I could’ve used that Scripture.”

  As she smiled back, he felt the familiar caution. She was a nice woman; best to be careful. Especially with a sister in Christ.

  “Wait!” She slapped her head and swung back to her computer. “What about—?”

  He heard the keyboard clicking again. “San Jose! That’s it. It’s only an hour south, but the topography is completely different and it has very different weather. Yep … sure enough, their flights are going out tonight.” She squinted at her watch. “Hmm. By the time we put you on a shuttle bus and get you down there, you’re going to miss the regular flights. There’s a red-eye to Atlanta at ten o’clock, but it’s packed. If you can’t get on that flight standby, we’ll give you a hotel voucher and book you priority on the first flight out in the morning. Even if there are delays, you should still make it in plenty of time. Will that do?”