Running from Reality

by Missy Robertson

  “Wow,” Ruby said. “We gotta stop him.”

  “That’s right,” Kendall said.

  “NO, that’s not right!” Ryan craned his neck around to look at us. “The police will be here, and they’ll catch him.”

  “Oh, yes, what was I thinking?” I turned my head toward the cousins, put my hand up to the side of my face to block my mouth, and whispered, “But we’re gonna slow him down first.”

  Ryan pulled the van into the garage and we all ran up to the front door.

  “Turn on every light you see,” Brittany said. “If he thinks someone is here, then he’ll go away.”

  “No,” Ryan said. “Don’t turn any lights on at all. We want him to come up to the house, and get started with the vandalism so the police can catch him in the act. I want you all in your rooms. We’ll grab some food and you can go eat up there. Don’t come down till I tell you the coast is clear.”

  I piled so many snacks on a tray that it was a little heavy to carry.

  “Put it on the dumbwaiter, darling,” Kendall said in her British accent.

  And so I did. I pulled the rope, and then we raced up the stairs to see who could get to the food first.

  It was me.

  Ryan and Brittany stayed downstairs to wait for the police, and the cousins all came into Kendall’s and my room.

  “Okay,” Hunter said. “We’ve got the water balloons all spread out on the balcony. As soon as we finish eating, I say we take our positions and wait.”

  I looked at my watch. “He said around 7:00, so we have a little time to kill.”

  “What should we do?” Ruby said.

  “I think you should let me tell you all about what was in that bag I got at the airport.”

  “Yes, tell us!” Ruby’s eyes sparkled as she sat down on the rug in front of the wingback chairs. Lola and Hunter sat down next to her, and Kendall took the other chair. They were mesmerized as I told them about the Band-Aids, the map, the brochure, and the headlamp with the matching address and scripture about shining the light of Jesus. I shared about the key, and how it somehow opened Gabi’s diary that I found in the dumbwaiter and the sequined-star suitcase of a little girl whose family really needed what was inside. I felt like I was telling a made-up, exaggerated Carroway fable.

  But every bit of it was reality.

  “It’s 6:55. We better get to our stations.” Hunter was even more focused on saving the Gabi-girls’ house now that he knew the story about the diary. “We need to be real quiet out on the balcony, though. And no lights until I give the signal.”

  We crossed the hallway to the room where Hunter had been staying. His slider door led out to a balcony that faced the front of the house, and just happened to be right over the entryway to the house, one story down. Thankfully, the walls were concrete, so no one would be able to see our bodies, and we could peek over as soon as we heard a sound.

  We waited, and waited, and while I waited, I thought about Matthew 5:14–15:

  You are the light of the world. A city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden.

  This whole trip, I had been trying to hide. But it never worked, not for one single moment. People kept finding me, and though they didn’t recognize me as Allie Carroway—they sure noticed something.

  Laying there in the dark on the balcony, I finally realized what it was. It was Jesus, shining through me.

  “Let your light shine before men so they will see your good deeds and praise your Father in Heaven.”

  Well, I sure wanted that. Maybe it was time to look at my life in a whole new way.

  “Hey,” Hunter whispered. “Someone’s down there.”

  Hunter still had his cowboy hat on, but it was black so it didn’t show up in the dark. He peeked over the wall and then scrunched back down.

  “Yep, that’s him alright. He just went under the street light. He’s got a black athletic bag slung over his shoulder.”

  My heart started pumping harder. I poked my head up over the wall.

  “There’s a car way down there that doesn’t have its lights on. It’s moving forward, then stopping, then moving forward . . .”

  “Maybe he brought a team of hoodlums,” Lola put her hands to her cheeks and breathed out hard.

  I squinted and sighed when the car came closer into view.

  “It’s the police.”

  “Oh, good.” Ruby peeked over the wall. “Let’s go back inside.”

  Kendall held her hand out. “No. Let’s do this . . . for the Gabi-girls.”

  “He’s coming closer,” Hunter said. “When he gets up to the door, I’ll count to three, and then we bust the enemy.”

  “I’m scared,” Lola said.

  “Use the fear to throw harder,” I said. “Send him a message that you don’t mess with bayou kids.”

  “Yeah,” Ruby said.

  We each grabbed a water balloon with both hands and sat in a crouched position. We heard nothing for a minute, but then there were footsteps, and zipping. Wood knocking together. Then a simple sentence:

  “Okay, lights—I’m snuffing you out.”

  And then Hunter counted.

  “Three . . . two . . . one!”

  We all stood at once, and chucked the balloons at the young man down below as he tried to swing a bat. After we threw those, we loaded up again. And again. And again.

  You know how sometimes water balloons don’t break, so it just feels like you’ve been hit by a round brick? Yeah. That’s probably how the Hollywoodlum felt at that moment, cause none of them broke. They bounced off his head, arms, shoulders, and then off the pavement.

  “Ahhhhh! Hey!!! Stop!”

  “Hit the lights!” Hunter yelled. And the Carroway cousins let our headlamps shine.

  The Hollywoodlum lay on the ground, and—too bad for him—we didn’t stop. We kept throwing water bricks until the two policemen from the car caught up to the house and ran to the door.

  “Cease your attack!” One of them waved both arms back and forth in the air. “We got him!”

  One more balloon dropped. Kendall’s. And that one broke—right on the Hollywoodlum’s head.

  “Oops,” Kendall said.

  About that time, Ryan showed up, down below with another police officer.

  “Where did these balloons come from?” the officer asked.

  Ryan picked one up and looked up. He grinned.

  “Looks like the Carroways got a little carried away—as usual.” Then he pointed up at us. The police officers waved.

  “Thanks, kids!” one of them said. “My family loves your show.”

  “Let me go!” the Hollywoodlum cried. “They attacked me! I didn’t do anything!”

  The officer turned the Hollywoodlum around and pulled his hands around to his back to cuff him.

  “We’ve got you on camera, swinging a bat at this door. Let me guess, are you going to try to convince us that you live here and that you’re locked out?”

  The young man stayed quiet. “Would you believe that?”

  The officer shook his head. “No, but you do have the right to remain silent . . .”

  My cousins and I ran back into the house, and high-fived each other.

  “That was awesome!” Lola yelled. “We busted a criminal and saved Hollywood!”

  “And it was so fun!” Hunter whooped and hollered.

  “Don’t mess with the Carroways,” I said. “Our lights will not be snuffed out.”

  “I can’t wait to tell my parents,” Lola said.

  “Me too!” Ruby added

  “And Allie, you have to tell everyone about your bag of wonders,” Lola smiled.

  “Think of all the stories we can share at Thanksgiving.” Kendall flipped her red hair around. “This trip has been the best!”

  I crossed my arms in front of me and looked around at all my cousins, and shook my head.

  “Umm . . . are you forgetting something? We can’t tell anyone anything. We have a deal. Everything that’s happened is just betw
een us. Forever.”

  Kendall shook her head and stomped her foot. “What? That’s not fair! When we made that deal we had no idea we’d be running into miracles! Everyone needs to know! I think we should be able to tell about this on the show.”

  “Show?” I said. “You mean the show we’re on strike from?”

  “Well, that was your idea,” Kendall said.

  “So, you’re blaming me?” I sat down on the recliner in Hunter’s room. “People—you were complaining that you were overwhelmed with the show and duck-hunting season, and raking leaves too. And you were tired of having everyone know about your lives. Remember?”

  Hunter looked down at the ground. “I guess we have been doing a lot of complaining. All that stuff doesn’t sound like such a big deal now.”

  “I guess if Gabi could do the show business thing, we can too.” Kendall shoved me over and joined me on the recliner.

  “And we do have each other,” Lola added.

  “Okay,” I said, and I stood and put my hand out. “Let’s make a deal. We stop running from reality, and instead, we let our lights shine out through the lives God has given us.”

  “I like it,” Ruby said. “I don’t like trying to be someone else. I miss wearing my jeans.”

  “And I guess maybe I do look a little like a poinsettia with this hair.” Kendall grinned.

  “And the ocean really isn’t turquoise.” Lola ran her fingers through her streak.

  “Can I keep my cowboy hat? Please?” Hunter grabbed the brim with both hands and tugged it down on his head, which made his ears bend over.

  We laughed.

  “Of course,” Lola said. “It’s definitely you. But we still gotta do something about those shorts!”

  CHAPTER 26

  Reality Check

  I had a new sense of purpose on my return home. My goal was to embrace everything and anything that God brought my way—from here on out. As I walked my neighborhood Thanksgiving morning, I said a prayer for each house as I passed it, and I asked that God would show me how to shine my light. I also remembered little Emmy—from the ER.

  Lord, help her to stop running. Just like you helped me to stop running.

  Joy filled my heart as I passed by the Lickety Split construction site. While we were away, walls had gone up, and I breathed in deep and smelled the aroma of freshly sawed wood.

  I can’t wait to see what adventures we’ll cook up in there.

  I felt so good to be home that I did a few back flips, and then jogged back toward our house to see if Mom needed some help preparing Thanksgiving dinner. As I rounded the corner toward our driveway, I saw a strange car backing out of our driveway.

  It stopped, and a man and two kids got out. A boy and a girl who both looked my age.

  “Hello,” the red-haired man said. “You must be Allie. I’m Andrew Doonsberry, and these are my kids, Parker and Madison.”

  A little joy leaked out of me at that moment. These were the new owners of my house. Well, in a few days.

  I tried to grin, and held out my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, sir. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  I glanced over at the kids. Parker smiled. Madison backed away and glared.

  Uh-oh.

  “We were just taking some measurements for furniture,” Mr. Doonsberry said. “Your parents were very gracious to let us come and do that on Thanksgiving.”

  “Your room is too small for all my stuff,” Madison said. “Plus, it’s painted a baby color. I’ll be changing it immediately—if I even decide to use that room.”

  “Madi, be nice!” Mr. Doonsberry shook his head. “I’m afraid my daughter is a little frustrated about the move.”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  And I really did.

  Madi just rolled her eyes at me.

  “Well, we better get on our way. I’ve got some work to do at the hotel, and I promised the kids we’d find the best restaurant in town, so I can treat them to some Louisiana food for Thanksgiving.”

  He seemed like such a nice guy. Handsome and sweet. His son too.

  “It was nice to meet you, Allie,” Parker said, and he walked back to his car and jumped in. Mr. Doonsberry did the same.

  Madi lingered. Crossed her arms in front of her. Glared at me, and said, “You’re nothin’ special.”

  Then she turned, got in the car, and they drove away.

  CHAPTER 27

  God of Wonders

  The day we filmed the Carroway Family Easter episode—Friday, February 14th—was the day my heart was changed forever.

  The whole scene was weird. Pastel-colored placemats lined the dinner table filled with fake lily centerpieces at my Aunt Kassie and Uncle Wayne’s house. My whole family sat around three separate tables with platters and bowls filled with deviled eggs, scalloped potatoes, and baked beans. A little marshmallow bunny sat in the middle of each of our heavy-duty, segmented paper plates. Camo-printed plastic eggs were hidden all over inside the house—because it was raining—so that after dinner the little kids could have their “Easter” egg hunt.

  My cousins and I exchanged Valentines as we waited for the film crew to get set up.

  Hunter opened mine. It had a picture of a dinosaur, and it said, “No bones about it—you’re great, Valentine!”

  “Ha! A paleontologist pun! I love it!”

  “Here you go, roomie.” Kendall gave me a Valentine. It was a homemade coupon book. The first one said, “Good for hanging up one strand of twinkle lights.”

  “Really? You’re finally gonna let me hang them?”

  Kendall shrugged. “Why not? They might inspire me to write songs about hope and light.”

  I smiled.

  Ruby and Lola sat across the table reading their cards. Ruby handed me a conversation heart that said, “Hey, Cuz!” I popped it in my mouth, but then panicked and spit it out.

  “Was this manufactured in a plant that processes peanuts?”

  Lola looked at the package. “Nah, I think you’re good. They only manufacture sugar.”

  Mamaw came out of the kitchen carrying a platter of ham that the new caterers had prepared.

  “I just want y’all to know, this is a BAD HAM. I don’t recommend you put one single piece in your mouth.”

  “What?” My mom picked up a piece. “How can someone ruin a ham?” She lifted the morsel to her mouth, tried to bite into it, and grabbed a mason jar of water and gulped it down. “How do you even make a ham this salty?”

  “It must have been one tough pig,” Mamaw added. “I almost needed Papaw’s chainsaw to get it off the bone. It’s a good thing I’m cooking our real Easter dinner.”

  Our director, Zeke, began barking instructions. “Okay, Carroways, you know the drill. When I yell, ‘action,” Ray is gonna pray, and then you’ll all dig in. The ham does look scary, so eat at your own risk. Action!”

  Papaw stood. “Please bow with me. Heavenly Father, we thank you for the day you rose from the grave to give eternal life to all those who believe in you. We are grateful for the lives you have given us, and we even thank you for the ability to share our lives, as imperfect as they may be, with people who watch our show. Watch over them, Father, give them hope, and bless their families, just as you have blessed us every day of our lives. Thank you for being at work when we don’t even notice. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  We all started eating—but not the ham. It was the consistency of bark, and could have been used as roof tiles for the Lickety Split—which was due to be finished in the next couple of weeks.

  “Hey, squirt, I got something for you.” Ryan and Brittany had flown in for our “Easter” celebration, and to go through the storage shed to clean out some things we had moved out of our house in November.

  Ryan handed me an envelope.

  “What’s in here?” I asked. “A valentine?”

  Ryan grinned. “Dude, you’ll have to open it and find out.”

  At the next filming break, I asked Hannah if I
could go to my room for a minute.

  “Yeah, but be back in five minutes. We’re bringing in a new ham and you don’t want to miss it.”

  I excused myself, and ran upstairs to Kendall’s room. I liked it here, but I really missed my too-small-room with the baby-colored walls. I couldn’t understand why Madison didn’t like the color. Blue is soothing, which sounds like something she could have used.

  I plopped down on my stomach on the bed, and peeled the sealed envelope open. I pulled out a letter—a real, handwritten letter! The writing wasn’t too neat, but the words popped out clearly and soaked into my heart and soul:

  Dear Allie,

  I’m the kid who gave you a bag at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport. Remember me? I bought a lot of food and you helped me pay for it.

  Anyway, I feel like a doofus. Our youth group was on a mission trip, and before we left, we each put together a “blessing bag.” We prayed about what to put in it, and then we prayed about who to give it to. Well, as you know, you got mine.

  But, dude, I gotta apologize, because I gave you the wrong bag! That’s what I get for being in such a hurry, and for using the same brown bags for everything. I meant to give you a bag with some trail mix, mints, and a little Bible promise book. Instead, you got some worthless junk that I think has been in my backpack for a couple of years since I lived in my grandma’s house.

  Will you forgive me?

  Sincerely,

  Nathan Fremont

  P.S. I thought you looked familiar, but didn’t realize who you were till I got home and watched TV.

  P.S.S. Also, your brother is my 8th grade science teacher. Isn’t that crazy? If you’re ever in Santa Barbara, look me up and we’ll switch bags.

  I read the letter I think eight times. Each time it jolted me.

  Trail mix? With nuts? Seriously? That bag would have killed me!

  I flipped over on my back, stared up at the ceiling, and prayed.

  Thank you, Lord, for being a God of wonders. I know I’ll never truly understand everything you are doing all the time, but I’m here, and I’m yours. Use me any way you want to shine your light in the world. Amen.

  I lay there, still as could be. And at that moment, I’m sure I felt the earth turn.