The Lights of Tenth Street

by Shaunti Feldhahn

  Ronnie forced herself to shake off that crazy thought, dampening her racing heart. What was wrong with her? Marco was family!

  He pulled her aside, talking in quiet tones. A new man was coming on the boat today. Would she keep him company? His name was Doug and he was a big shot finance guy at one of Wade’s partner companies. Marco had never met him, but heard that he was a bit reserved. Could Ronnie draw him out, make sure he had a good time? He probably wouldn’t tip her anything, but Marco would cover that. Just take good care of him. And next weekend, he added, he had an even bigger party he’d like her to cover.

  Ronnie agreed, nodding, surprised at her own disappointment. So no sugar daddy. At least this weekend.

  She looked around the room. “Where is this Doug guy?”

  “He should’ve been here by now. He probably just got stuck in traffic.”

  Marco left Ronnie watching the deck and made his way to a back room. He stepped into the small space and greeted its occupants, closing the door behind him.

  “Are we ready?”

  The two men turned and gave him a thumbs-up. They pointed at several monitors showing crystal-clear views of the main party room.

  “We’ve got this room wired, and most of the other places they could go.”

  “Bedrooms?”

  “Of course!” One of the men looked insulted. “What do you take us for, amateurs?”

  Marco grinned and slapped him on the back. “Hardly. I’m just sorry that you have to spend this beautiful day cooped up in here, rather than out enjoying the show.”

  “Oh, we’ll enjoy the show all right.” The second man was talking. “But we expect you to sneak us some of that food you shipped on board. We can’t give up everything you know.”

  “Deal.” Marco made ready to depart. “Don’t spare the film.”

  “Don’t worry, chief. We’ll get plenty of pictures of Mr. Doug Turner enjoying himself.”

  Marco’s eyes gleamed. “Perfect.”

  “Mommy, can we go on that one? Please, please, please?”

  Sherry took one look at the impossibly high water slide—more like a vertical wall, surrounded by the parks lush landscaping—and gave a strangled laugh.

  “Goodness no, Genna! I don’t want you to break your neck! I don’t care if that older boy told Brandon he could handle it; it’s too much for either of you. And look at it—I don’t think you really want to do it.”

  Sherry squatted down beside Genna and gestured to the top of the tall tower where teenagers waited to plunge down the slide and into the splash pool far below. “See how high that platform is? You’d probably climb all the way to the top, and then change your mind anyway.”

  “But, Mom!”

  Sherry held up a finger. “No whining or we’ll have to leave. That’s the rule for today. Okay?”

  When her daughter nodded, she stood up and took Genna’s hand. “We have all day to do as many rides as you want. And anyway, it’s Brandon’s turn to pick our next ride. Brandon, what’s next? Anything but that water slide!” She looked around. “Brandon?”

  Her six-year-old son was nowhere to be seen. Sherry turned a full circle, raising her voice. “Brandon!” She turned again, her voice mounting to a panicked shout. “Brandon!”

  Genna’s eyes were wide. “Mommy, what—”

  “I can’t find Brandon, honey. He was here just a moment ago. Brandon!”

  She was swamped with a feeling of unreality, her eyes sweeping the morning crowds. She held fast to Genna’s hand, turning another full circle, her voice tight. “O dear God, help me find him.”

  “But, Mommy—”

  “Not now, honey!” Sherry spotted a security station and began pulling Genna toward it, even as her daughter resisted her efforts. “Genna, stop it! We have to get some nice policemen to help us find Brandon!”

  “But, Mommy, he’s going to fall!”

  “What?”

  Sherry swung around and followed the direction of her daughter’s hand, pointing toward the steep landscaping around the vertical water slide. Her son was creeping upward where no one was intended to be, climbing over wet stones and plants.

  “Brandon!” Sherry screamed, and dozens of heads turned her direction. She ran wildly forward. “Stop, Brandon, stop!”

  Sherry reached the base of the landscaping, hardly noticing the ruckus behind her as other park-goers shouted and pointed, as park security made desperate attempts to tell the workers on the tower to stop the ride.

  Sherry scrabbled to climb the steep stones, her eyes full of the small towheaded boy, who had just reached the edge of the slide, his little hands gripping the lip of the smooth orange material, his face intent.

  Her son couldn’t hear her desperate cries. The next teenager to go was sitting on the edge of the slide, crossing his arms over his chest as instructed. He lay back, and the tower worker pushed him off.

  Caliel and his comrades slashed their way through the besetting forces, thrashing their way toward the precious child who had been tempted closer, ever closer to destruction. Their forewarning of the malicious plan had not lessened the pain of watching the plot unfold. But the Lord on high had allowed it to go only so far and no farther. His power blazed forth, and Caliel leaped toward the boy.

  He reached Brandon as the teenager hurtled down the steep vertical drop, holding the two apart long enough to keep Brandon from climbing full onto the slide. Caliel’s face was full of desperate pain as he watched the speeding form brush aside the half-teetering child, the small body flying through the air, landing with a crack on the stones, and then tumbling unconscious to the splash pool below.

  “BRANDON!”

  Sherry plunged headlong into the splash pool. She scrambled to her feet and caught Brandon up in her arms, crying his name. His eyes were closed, head lolling back, his left arm hanging at a dreadful angle.

  Burly lifeguards and uniformed security alike leaped into the pool and cleared a path back out through the gaping crowd, working with amazing speed to lay Brandon on a shallow ledge and breathe life into his lungs.

  Sherry could feel strangers holding her, hugging her, even heard a few voices praying aloud for her and her son.

  “Brandon …” She was weeping now. “Baby.…”

  “It’s okay.” A uniformed woman had a blanket about Sherry’s shoulders, holding her back, preventing her from interfering with the emergency team. “It’ll be okay. It’s okay.”

  Sherry wanted to flail at her, to scream that it wasn’t okay, that her baby was unconscious or dead, that she would never be able to live with herself—

  “He’s breathing!” A shout went up from the emergency team. “Get a blanket here, stat!”

  Sherry tore free of the uniformed lady and pushed forward, her eyes wild. Someone tried to hold her back, but she sensed someone else reaching out a hand.

  “It’s the mother … Let her through … The mother …”

  Brandon was lying on a low ledge, retching and coughing. A shirtless lifeguard and a slender female EMT hovered over him, covering him with blankets, speaking soothing words. They stood as Sherry appeared, clearing the way.

  “Careful …” She heard the words in a dim corner of her mind. “Careful … broken arm … he’s okay but let him lie flat a minute.…”

  She reached her son and collapsed to her knees, wiping his mouth, stroking his hair, telling him how much she loved him, how she couldn’t have lived with herself if anything happened to him.

  His eyes opened, and a jagged wail came from his mouth. “Mommy …!” He tried to reach for her, and cried out in pain. “Mommy!”

  She embraced him, crying also, careful of his broken arm. He buried his face in her shoulder, and she buried her face in his hair, rocking him, her voice choked. “Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Jesus.”

  The gaze of the hovering figures swept the crowd. Caliel ensured that the strangers holding and hugging the terrified Genna were guided to Sherry’s side.

  Then his gaze
turned stern and he gave swift orders for the pursuit and destruction of the enemy forces that had dared to come against the children of God. Just because the Lord, in His unfathomable wisdom, had allowed the evil ones to act on their constant malice for a short time, did not mean that they would not bear the consequences of their actions.

  As the angels drew their swords, their faces blazing with righteous anger, Caliel turned back to the groups below, his gaze anxious. The call must be made, and soon, or it was all for naught.

  Marco was leaving the control room when one of the men whistled for him to return. His subordinate was tapping on one computer monitor, showing the marina parking lot. A car had just pulled into the lot.

  “Is this your guy?”

  Marco looked close at the profile visible through the car window. “It’s him.” He stood up and a slick smile crossed his face. “Let the party begin.”

  Doug turned off the engine and sat in the car. The yacht was still sitting at quayside, and he could hear laughter and music.

  With an effort, he opened the car door and stretched to his feet. He could hear women’s laughter in the mix. How odd. He had assumed it would just be men since the new client didn’t have any women executives on his team. Doug shrugged and reached to get a small satchel out of the car. Perhaps a couple of the men had brought their wives.

  He made a quick search of the satchel—swimsuit, towel, and a change of clothes. His hand brushed his cell phone, and he looked at the display. No signal out here. He might as well leave it in the car.

  The EMT finally stood aside, and allowed Sherry to gather Brandon up into a hug. He clung to her like a limpet, all first-grade pride swept away in the desire for his mother’s comforting arms.

  Caliel dropped through the crowd, standing close by Sherry’s shoulder, speaking urgent words to her. She was so dazed, all her attention attuned to the limpet, that the words just bounced off. They didn’t penetrate.

  He heard the urgent message from heaven, and tried a different tactic, reaching out his hand toward the boy.

  Sherry started as Brandon raised his head and looked at her, his left eye already beginning to swell.

  “Daddy!” He wiped his nose on his arm. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Daddy’s away for the day, remember?” Even as Sherry tried to reassure her son, the thought registered. She had to catch him before he left on the boat.

  “Where’s my bag?” Her voice was urgent, startling the EMTs and security personnel. “I have to call my husband!”

  The female EMT unclipped a phone from her belt. “I don’t know where your bag is, but you can use this.”

  Sherry grabbed the phone and punched in Doug’s number. It rang, and then a tinny voice came on. “The cellular customer you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later.”

  Sherry closed her eyes in frustration. Try again. Pray, and try again.

  “Lord, I don’t know why you allowed this to happen, but please, please let me get Doug so he can come be with his baby.”

  She punched the numbers again.

  Doug tossed the cell phone on the car seat and closed the door. He started to turn away, then stopped short. Was that ringing he heard? He unlocked the door and grabbed the phone.

  Huh. It had a signal now. But the call was from an unfamiliar number.

  He hesitated—then pressed the answer button.

  Thirty seconds later, he was jogging toward the yacht, the phone still pressed against his ear, his face white.

  “Jordan! Jordan!” He reached the gangplank and hollered down toward the party sounds. “Hold on, sweetheart. I just need to tell them I’m leaving.” He hollered again.

  A young woman came around the corner, her eyes welcoming. She stopped just short of the gangplank.

  “You must be Doug.”

  “What? Yes. Where’s Jordan?”

  “Jordan? I don’t know who—”

  A man came hustling down the hallway from the other direction. “You must be Doug Turner.”

  “Yes. Listen, I need to get a message to Jordan. Would you tell him I’m very sorry. My son has just had a terrible accident at the water park. He was knocked unconscious and broke his arm. I’ve got to go meet them at the hospital.”

  “Of course, I’ll tell Jordan.” He gestured down the corridor. “He’s just on the aft deck. Would you like to come tell him yourself?”

  “No, I’m sorry Please just tell him that I have to leave now. I really apologize.”

  Ronnie followed Marco as he hustled down the hallway toward the party room. He made his way to the man he’d spoken to out on the quay and pulled him aside again. Suddenly, there was an eruption from that end of the room, and Ronnie realized it must be the man Doug had asked for—Jordan—cursing at the top of his lungs.

  What sort of man would get angry that a child had just hurt himself and the father wanted to rush to be by his side? What sort of people were they?

  FORTY-TWO

  A few weeks later …

  So, what did you think?” Tiffany’s eyes sparkled in the darkness of the club’s almost-deserted parking lot.

  Ronnie opened her car door and threw her bag in. “Oh, I think I’ll probably keep seeing him.”

  “Probably! Okay, okay, you can play cool with me. I know better, my friend. I bet if he comes back tomorrow night, you leave with him again. At least if Marco has his way.”

  “I don’t care what Marco says.”

  “Yeah, but you sure care about a guy who’s prepared to shower you with those.”

  Tiffany pointed at the sparkling earrings Ronnie wore, the perfect complement to her new dress. All courtesy of Glenn, an ultra-rich manufacturing tycoon who’d taken a serious interest in the last seven days. He had met Ronnie at another boat party the previous weekend, and had started coming to the club the next night. Ronnie had left with him the night after that, and had hardly slept at home since. She’d been hard-pressed to make it to her classes on time. She’d be glad when summer semester ended, and she could register for only afternoon classes in the fall.

  “You coming home tonight?”

  “Yes, finally. You?”

  “Yes!” Tiffany giggled. “Together at last, huh?”

  “I haven’t even had time to do laundry.”

  “Me, neither. Worth it, though, isn’t it? C’mon, you can say it. ‘You were right, Tiff.’ C’mon, I know you’re thinking it.”

  Ronnie tried to suppress a smile. “You goof. Oh, okay. You were right.”

  “You’re glad you got your sugar daddy.”

  “Yes, I’m glad I got my sugar daddy.” Ronnie found herself blushing. “So leave me alone, okay? Don’t rub it in!”

  “He leave you some cash yesterday?”

  “Yeah, said he didn’t like me being burdened with such a high car payment. So he just wrote a check directly to the car company for three months’ worth!”

  “Whoo, baby! You owe him big time!”

  “Don’t I know it.” A mischievous smile crossed Ronnie’s face. “But I think he finds it an even trade.”

  Glenn kept an arm around Ronnie as they worked the elegant gathering at his corporate headquarters, smiling and shaking hands with a hundred business colleagues. At Glenn’s direction, Ronnie had worn her latest purchase—a stunning black dress—and the diamond earrings he’d given her on their first night together. She looked the equal of any of the well-groomed corporate wives in the room. And quite a bit younger.

  She noticed that several of the middle-aged “original wives,” as she had taken to calling them, were just as proprietary about their husbands as Glenn was with her. She saw one woman take one look in her direction, and hastily usher her balding husband over to the punch table. She chuckled to herself. As if!

  Ronnie smiled and nodded until she thought her cheeks would crack, but it was important for her to be here. Glenn’s company was rolling out its latest gee-whiz electronics prototype—a television remote control device that recognized t
he owner’s voice and responded to verbal commands. It was a coup for the company, and a big night for its president. She knew she was the slim, young trophy on his arm, and it surprised her that—far from bothering her—she ate it up. She wasn’t as refined as Glenn’s crowd, but she was sharp and she could hold her own.

  “So what do you do for a living?” one of the corporate wives asked her.

  “I’m studying to become a physical therapist.”

  “How fascinating!”

  Glenn’s cell phone gave a soft trill just as the woman launched into a story about when her “dear husband” had been in physical therapy.

  “Excuse me for a moment, ladies. I need to take this call,” Glenn said.

  The corporate wife merely nodded and plowed on with her story, but Ronnie hardly heard a word. She had seen the display as clear as day for just a second, and was sure that it showed Marco’s number.

  What was Marco doing calling him? It wasn’t like he knew Glenn ahead of time, like he had Wade. He hadn’t set her up with Glenn, as he had done with Tiffany and Wade. It had all just been random circumstance. Hadn’t it?

  Ronnie searched her memory even as she tried to keep one ear open to the woman beside her.

  No … Marco hadn’t appeared to know Glenn. Glenn had been invited by another person attending that second boat party and was introduced to Marco and Ronnie at the same time. Come to think of it—the man introducing them had been at the first boat party, too. A memory leaped to mind, and Ronnie straightened. He was the one that had been so furious when that guy had gone to tend to his stricken son!

  “What’s wrong, dear?” The corporate wife was looking at her, puzzled.

  “Nothing. Just needed to stretch my back. All this standing, you know. But you were saying about your husband …”

  “Right, dear. So he had only been in bed for two weeks, when the physical therapist …”

  Ronnie watched out of the corner of her eye as Glenn spoke quietly into his phone. Every now and then, his gaze would rest on someone else in the room, his face hardening. Ronnie shivered, feeling like a curtain had been pulled back giving her a glimpse into a side of Glenn she’d never seen. Not that she knew him all that well to begin with.