by Alana Terry
But she wouldn’t. Before she told everyone she was stepping down from Living Grace — a fancy way of saying she was fired — Meredith had to give herself time to heal. Get over the initial shock of it all. She made a promise to herself not to update her blog or post anything online until things were officially announced. Living Grace wasn’t putting out their press release until next week. Quite gracious of them, Meredith thought. Really living up to their name.
Come on, Meredith told herself. You’re the bigger woman. You don’t need to get bitter.
Her stomach growled as passengers scurried by. When was the last time she’d eaten? Usually when she traveled, she wouldn’t think twice before treating herself to something fancy. A mocha that cost five times its worth. A seafood salad at an actual sit-down restaurant if she had a long layover. And why not?
Why not, indeed?
And now it was time to pinch pennies again, just like she had in the early days when Living Grace’s headquarters doubled as her studio apartment. She had her salary covered through the end of May. Something told Meredith the board of directors expected her to fall to her knees in gratitude when they mentioned her severance. And sure, it was better than nothing. But even though she wasn’t destitute yet, she couldn’t find the appetite for a twelve-dollar muffin or fifteen-dollar fruit salad. The five dollars she’d just spent on a bottle of water felt like enough splurge for one day.
Flights were getting canceled left and right, the result of a big snowstorm hitting the western US. It was scheduled to hit Michigan by tomorrow evening, but Meredith planned to be sequestered in her home by then, safe, sound, and warm.
What would it feel like to wake up tomorrow without several dozen items on her to-do list? Her assistant, Angie, would spend the next few days canceling all Meredith’s upcoming speaking gigs. Apparently Living Grace saw fit to demand her resignation but were magnanimously willing to keep Meredith’s assistant employed. Oh, well. Nobody could blame Angie. Four kids, Christmas right around the corner … Angie needed her job.
Which was the irony of it all, really. Because this was never a job to Meredith.
It was her life.
And she loved every minute of it.
“Excuse me.”
Meredith glanced up in surprise at a petite woman with white hair. “Yes?” Meredith’s smile was automatic.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I saw you sitting here and just had to come introduce myself.” The old woman reached out a wrinkled hand, which was surprisingly soft and warm when Meredith shook it.
“My name is Lucy Jean,” the woman said, “but my friends call me Grandma Lucy. And I am such a fan of yours. Our ladies’ Bible study just finished your series on Ruth, and I was so blessed by the words of wisdom and encouragement you had to share.”
Meredith was used to being recognized out in public. How long would it take for the world to forget she’d ever existed?
She thanked the old lady, feeling a spark of actual, genuine gratitude. After the discouragement of yesterday’s board meeting, Meredith’s spirit soaked up Grandma Lucy’s kind words like a parched desert floor.
“Is this your flight?” Grandma Lucy glanced at the sign in the terminal. “You’re on your way to Grand Rapids?”
Meredith nodded.
Grandma Lucy squinted at the sign above the check-in counter. “Looks like you have a little time. Can I buy you a cup of tea? My treat.”
Part of Meredith wanted to decline. By this time next week, Grandma Lucy and all the ladies in her Bible study would know about Living Grace. Would know that Meredith had lost her job, her position, her ministry.
But Grandma Lucy’s smile was so genuine and sincere. So different than the expressions of her former friends who’d faced her in the board room yesterday. Meredith sighed and grabbed the handle of her carry-on. “You know what?” she said. “I’d love something to drink. Thank you so much for asking.”
CHAPTER 2
Flight 219, Three hours later
Meredith stared wide-eyed at the man with the gun in his hand. This couldn’t be happening. She wasn’t even supposed to be on this flight.
Her ears still rang with the sound of gunfire.
“Five minutes until another hostage dies,” Bradley snarled over the passenger he just shot.
Before she grew Living Grace to the point where she could actually draw a salary from her work there, Meredith had made a living for a few years as a Christian counselor. She knew rage when she saw it. She knew instability.
She knew just how dangerous this man was.
The fact that they were flying over thirty thousand feet above ground made the experience all the more harrowing. Visions from September 11 flashed through her mind. Those poor passengers. The moment of impact playing over and over again on the news in a never-ending loop.
Through her work with Living Grace, Meredith had counseled hundreds of women, maybe even thousands, through loss, divorce, grief. Lately, she’d felt particularly burdened for women struggling with anxiety.
“Remember the Lord is always with you,” she’d tell them. “His word promises that we have nothing to fear.”
Nothing to fear. Those women probably should have just laughed in her face. Instead, they’d clung to Meredith’s words. Praised her for bringing them such a sense of encouragement and hope. Meredith was a speaker and teacher, a women’s leader. At least, she had been until yesterday.
It was funny, in a sad and pathetic sort of way, how when she’d boarded this flight — the flight she wasn’t even supposed to be on in the first place — she’d been broken and lost at the prospect of going through life, earning a living while no longer serving as the president of Living Grace. Three hours earlier, it was the most dejected she could remember feeling in years.
And now what did it matter? What did any of it matter — the board meeting, their decision to demand her resignation, the cowardly, averted gazes of men and women she’d previously considered her closest friends and allies …
There’s nothing like staring down the barrel of a loaded gun to put things into perspective.
Meredith didn’t know what was going to happen. Didn’t know if she would be the next hostage shot or if the plane would manage to land without anyone else getting hurt.
What she did know was that her concerns about her future sounded ludicrous now.
What did it matter if you lost your job if you’d end up dead the following day anyway?
If she survived this ordeal, maybe she’d be grateful for the mindset shift it provided.
If she survived …
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