Times and Seasons

by Beverly LaHaye

  Times and Seasons

  Book Three

  Beverly LaHaye

  Terri Blackstock

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to parents of prodigal children, searching the horizon for their loved ones to come home.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  CHAPTER One

  CHAPTER Two

  CHAPTER Three

  CHAPTER Four

  CHAPTER Five

  CHAPTER Six

  CHAPTER Seven

  CHAPTER Eight

  CHAPTER Nine

  CHAPTER Ten

  CHAPTER Eleven

  CHAPTER Twelve

  CHAPTER Thirteen

  CHAPTER Fourteen

  CHAPTER Fifteen

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  CHAPTER Seventeen

  CHAPTER Eighteen

  CHAPTER Nineteen

  CHAPTER Twenty

  CHAPTER Twenty-One

  CHAPTER Twenty-Two

  CHAPTER Twenty-Three

  CHAPTER Twenty-Four

  CHAPTER Twenty-Five

  CHAPTER Twenty-Six

  CHAPTER Twenty-Seven

  CHAPTER Twenty-Eight

  CHAPTER Twenty-Nine

  CHAPTER Thirty

  CHAPTER Thirty-One

  CHAPTER Thirty-Two

  CHAPTER Thirty-Three

  CHAPTER Thirty-Four

  CHAPTER Thirty-Five

  CHAPTER Thirty-Six

  CHAPTER Thirty-Seven

  CHAPTER Thirty-Eight

  CHAPTER Thirty-Nine

  CHAPTER Forty

  CHAPTER Forty-One

  CHAPTER Forty-Two

  CHAPTER Forty-Three

  CHAPTER Forty-Four

  CHAPTER Forty-Five

  CHAPTER Forty-Six

  CHAPTER Forty-Seven

  CHAPTER Forty-Eight

  CHAPTER Forty-Nine

  CHAPTER Fifty

  CHAPTER Fifty-One

  CHAPTER Fifty-Two

  CHAPTER Fifty-Three

  CHAPTER Fifty-Four

  CHAPTER Fifty-Five

  CHAPTER Fifty-Six

  CHAPTER Fifty-Seven

  CHAPTER Fifty-Eight

  CHAPTER Fifty-Nine

  CHAPTER Sixty

  CHAPTER Sixty-One

  CHAPTER Sixty-Two

  CHAPTER Sixty-Three

  CHAPTER Sixty-Four

  CHAPTER Sixty-Five

  CHAPTER Sixty-Six

  CHAPTER Sixty-Seven

  CHAPTER Sixty-Eight

  CHAPTER Sixty-Nine

  CHAPTER Seventy

  CHAPTER Seventy-One

  CHAPTER Seventy-Two

  CHAPTER Seventy-Three

  CHAPTER Seventy-Four

  CHAPTER Seventy-Five

  CHAPTER Seventy-Six

  CHAPTER Seventy-Seven

  CHAPTER Seventy-Eight

  CHAPTER Seventy-Nine

  CHAPTER Eighty

  CHAPTER Eighty-One

  CHAPTER Eighty-Two

  CHAPTER Eighty-Three

  CHAPTER Eighty-Four

  CHAPTER Eighty-Five

  CHAPTER Eighty-Six

  CHAPTER Eighty-Seven

  Also From Beverly Lahaye and Terri Blackstock…

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  He urged them to plead for mercy from the God of heaven…

  Then Daniel praised the God of heaven and said:

  “Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom

  and power are his. He changes times and seasons;

  he sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom

  to the wise and knowledge to the discerning. He reveals

  deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness,

  and light dwells with him.”

  DANIEL 2:18–22

  CHAPTER

  One

  I’m telling you, Mark, it’s a sorry idea.”

  Mark Flaherty turned from his bedroom window and glanced back at Daniel. His best friend still wore his church clothes from this morning—a button-down blue shirt neatly tucked into khakis. The clothes made Daniel look older than fifteen as he stood with his arms at his sides, preparing to fight him if he tried to push past. “You always think my ideas are sorry.”

  “You’ve already been arrested once,” Daniel said.

  Mark turned back toward the window with a clear view of Cedar Circle, in full summer bloom. His mother was next door, revving up for the wedding shower the neighbors were giving her. Brenda Dodd and Tory Sullivan had been talking about it for weeks, and Sylvia Bryan had come all the way back from her mission work in Nicaragua to host it in her home. It griped him that his mom had insisted on the men in her life being there. Showers were for women, and he had better things to do. It was only early June, and the wedding wasn’t until July 4th. The shower was just a lot of trouble for nothing, in his opinion.

  “I’ll be back before anybody knows I’m gone,” Mark said. “I’d have to be crazy not to do this. It’s easy money.” He turned back to his friend and reached for the small bag of marijuana he’d bought from a friend at the baseball park last night. “Chill out. I won’t get caught, okay?”

  The words sent a little jolt of memory through him, for he had said them before. Just over a year ago—months after his mother had freaked and got Miss Brenda to home-school him. He had sneaked out of his dad’s house in Knoxville and gone joyriding with a kid—in a car he didn’t know was stolen. They’d been caught spray-painting graffiti on the side of a school building. Mark had been charged with car theft and vandalism, both in one night. The judge, who’d had a fourteen-year-old kid of his own, had let him off with probation.

  But this time was different. He had turned fifteen last week, and he wasn’t following the crowd anymore. He was in control here. He had this figured out.

  “You’re just mad because you won’t be able to buy a concert ticket,” Mark said. “But I’ll be there in the front row. I’ll buy you a T-shirt.”

  “Your mom will go ballistic,” Daniel said. “She won’t even let you go to that stupid concert, and you know it.”

  “She won’t know,” Mark said, stuffing the bag into his pocket. He heard a horn honk and looked out the window. Ham Carter and some other guy waited in his jeep at the end of the driveway. “Gotta go. He’s here.”

  Daniel’s cheeks were blotched pink as he tried to block the way. “Man, I’m telling you, you’re making a mistake.”

  “I have to go,” Mark said. Though Daniel was a little taller, Mark knew he could take him if he had to. “Move!”

  Daniel stood there for a moment, then finally moved aside. Mark pushed past him to the stairs and bolted down, Daniel right behind him.

  Eighteen-year-old Annie stood in front of the wall mirror at the bottom of the stairs, dressed like Barbie’s evil brunette twin. Rick, his twenty-year-old brother, waited by the front door, tugging at his collar.

  “Mom said to wear a tie,” Annie told Mark. “Hurry up and get ready, or we’ll be late.”

  “I have to go somewhere,” he said. “I’ll just be gone a few minutes.”

  “Gone where? We’re supposed to be there!”

  “I have to run an errand,” Mark said.

  “What kind of errand?” Rick asked with that tone he got when he tried to be the man of the house.

  Daniel didn’t wait for Mark’s answer. He shot out of the house, leaving the screen door to bounce shut behind him. Mark watched him cross the street, ignoring the two guys in the jeep. That was just as well.

  “If
I’m not back in fifteen minutes,” Mark said, “go on without me. Just tell Mom I’m coming.”

  “No way!” Annie cried. “Mark, you’re going to get her mad at all of us. I was counting on her being in a good mood later when I hit her up for concert money—”

  Mark grinned. He didn’t have to hit her up. “She will be,” he said, pushing open the screen door. He took off down the driveway, smiling at Ham and his friend. As he jumped into the backseat, he patted his pocket.

  “Hey, guys. I’m kinda in a hurry, okay?”

  “Sure, man.”

  Mark grinned as they pulled out of Cedar Circle. This would be the easiest money he’d ever made.

  CHAPTER

  Two

  Cathy Flaherty kicked her pumps into the corner of the kitchen and wondered why she’d gone to the trouble of getting her hair done this morning. Her blonde strands were already wisping out of the French twist, and the guests hadn’t even arrived yet. She should have come in her jeans and lab coat, the veterinarian’s garb she wore every day. She would have been more comfortable with her hair in a ponytail and sneakers on her feet.

  But that would have disappointed the friends who were throwing this shower. Brenda Dodd and Tory Sullivan, her neighbors on Cedar Circle, had been working on this for weeks. And if that weren’t enough, Sylvia Bryan had left her mission work in Nicaragua to come back and host it. It was as if Sylvia had to see it to believe it, Cathy mused.

  “Hold still and I’ll fix your hair,” Brenda said, coming at her with a comb.

  “I’m not used to having my hair up,” Cathy said. “Shoulda known not to go fu-fu.”

  Brenda moved a bobby pin, catching some of the escaped wisps. “Tory, does that look okay?”

  Tory turned back to them with her fifteen-month-old daughter, Hannah, asleep in her arms. Her body rocked from side to side, as if she swayed to some imaginary beat that only a mother could hear. “Looks good,” Tory said in a voice just above a whisper. “I think I’ll run home and put her down. Barry can watch her if she’s napping.”

  “When your hands are free, you can help me put out these flowers,” Sylvia said. She had several vases of fresh flowers, probably cut from her garden. Cathy had trouble growing weeds, yet Sylvia still had beautiful blooming jasmine, impatiens, petunias, periwinkles, and a dozen other floral varieties around her house, when she didn’t even live here to care for them. But Cathy knew Brenda and Tory weeded and watered Sylvia’s yard. In March, Brenda had taken her home-schooled children over to plant new annuals in the front garden. She’d considered it a science project. Cathy’s son Mark, who was home-schooled with Brenda’s four children, had taken great pride in his green thumb. Now, in June, the yard overflowed with blooms, showing evidence of their care.

  The Gonzales family had done a good job of caring for the home while the Bryans were on the mission field. In early May, they had finished Carlos’s seminary training and returned to Nicaragua, so the house was empty again. It was clear Sylvia had enjoyed being back in the home in which she’d raised her children and that she loved launching Cathy’s new life with this shower.

  Tory was on her way out the front door when Annie and Rick burst in. “Steve’s in the driveway,” Annie said. “He and Tracy are on their way in.”

  “But Mark is AWOL at the moment,” Rick said.

  “AWOL?” she asked, going to the door and waiting for Steve and Tracy. Tracy was all dressed up, and her hair had been braided with little white flowers. Steve had taken her to get her hair done this morning.

  She switched her thoughts back to Mark. “So where is he?”

  “Went to run an errand.”

  “An errand? In what?”

  “In Ham Carter’s jeep,” Annie said. “He said he’d be back in a few minutes. Right.”

  Steve came up to the porch, dressed like a financier, and grinning like an Oscar winner. Cathy matched that grin and reached up for a kiss. “So we’re gonna go through with it, huh?” he teased.

  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” she said with a wink. “It’s just a shower.” They had postponed the wedding two other times. One was after Mark’s arrest, the other after they’d realized how hard it was to blend parenting styles. This time, they had sealed their plans with work—building an addition onto her house. She let Steve go as Rick grabbed a monstrous handful of peanuts, dropping some onto the floor as he shoved them into his mouth. “Rick, please. They’ll think you haven’t eaten in a week!”

  Sylvia came over and gave him a hug, and Brenda bent down to pick up the fallen peanuts. “It’s good to see a healthy appetite,” she said. “Besides, who cares what we think?”

  “That’s what I was thinking, Mom,” Rick said with his mouth full. “You’ve just got to get over this constant worrying what other people think. Are you going to wear shoes?”

  Cathy tried to remember where she had left them, then hurried to slip them on. Annie was right behind her. “Your hair looks funny, Mom. It’s falling on one side. Looks kind of like somebody jabbed some pins in trying to hold it up.”

  “Okay, so I’ll never be able to work as a hairdresser,” Brenda said, throwing up her hands in mock defeat. “Annie, help her.”

  “I’ll help!” Tracy shouted, bouncing up and down. “I can fix your hair, Cathy!” The eleven-year-old was already reaching for the bobby pins.

  “Tell you what.” Cathy started pulling pins out and letting the hair fall around her shoulders. “Forget the fu-fu do. I’m coming as me.”

  Steve grinned and stroked the silky hair. “Suits me fine.”

  “Me, too,” Brenda said. “Just run a brush through it, and you’ll look like a catalogue model.”

  The front door came open, and Cathy turned hoping to see Mark. Instead, Tory stood just inside the door, looking tired and slightly out of breath. “Okay, let me at those flowers,” she called to Sylvia.

  Sylvia handed her two vases, and the women began placing them. The smell of white roses and lilies wafted on the air. Cathy looked around at the house full of memories—gold gilded photos of Sylvia’s children on the walls, an eight-by-ten of her new grandbaby, and multiple pictures of Sylvia and Harry with the children they loved in Nicaragua. A dried vine wound over and between the pictures, creating that thread of life that had never been broken. Not in this family.

  Cathy wished her vine wasn’t broken. There was something strange, unnatural, about having a wedding shower when you were forty-two years old. But the events of her life had not always been her decision.

  “So where’s Mark?” Steve’s question turned her around, and she thought of lying and saying that she’d sent him to get something. She didn’t want to see that look of he’s-at-it-again pass across Steve’s face, and she didn’t want to start him down the are-we-doing-the-right-thing road again, either. She’d been down that road enough herself.

  Besides, she wanted to be free to hear Mark’s reasons for being late, before she lambasted him. Her reaction to the children was different when Steve was around. She found herself responding the way she knew he would want her to, with consistency and discipline—all the right things, but for all the wrong reasons.

  But the truth would come out soon enough, anyway. “Mark seems to have disappeared with Ham Carter. We’re expecting him to be back soon.” She turned to Annie. “This Ham Carter. How old is he?”

  “At least sixteen, I guess,” Annie said. “Can you believe his parents are letting that loser drive? They ought to announce it on the evening news or something just to give everybody a chance to get out of his way. Cool! Cake.”

  “Annie, don’t touch that. We’re not ready to cut it.”

  Annie looked insulted. “So what do you think I’m gonna do? Just grab a handful?”

  Cathy glanced at her son, who had just about finished off the bowl of peanuts. She thought of pointing out to Annie that the only thing she could expect from her children was the unexpected. She stepped into the kitchen, where Brenda and Tory were busy decoratin
g plates of pastries. Steve followed her in and leaned against the counter. He reached for a pastry.

  Sylvia slapped his hand. “The guests will be here soon,” she said. “Just a few more minutes. Then, after you and Rick and Mark make your introductions, you can go watch football until we need you to help carry everything home.”

  “Might be a long wait, then,” he said. “When did you say Mark would get here?”

  “Few minutes,” Cathy said.

  Steve looked at his watch. “Mark knew what time the shower started, didn’t he?”

  “Oh, yeah, he knew. In fact, I even picked his clothes out for him and told him to get dressed before I left. Annie, he was dressed in those clothes when he disappeared, wasn’t he?”

  Annie shrugged. “Not his tie. Not yet.”

  Steve stiffened, and that pleasant look on his face was replaced with concern. “Why would he do this today of all days? Do you think this is some kind of psychological plea for us not to get married? Because every time we’ve set a date, something has happened.”

  “No, he’s not lashing out. He’s just being thoughtless.”

  “Cathy, any psychologist would have a field day with your youngest child running off today.”

  “Well, thank goodness no one’s analyzing it.” She took a brownie and bit into it. “Come on, this is not a crisis. Mark’s been disobedient, and I’ll take care of it when I see him. But I don’t want it to ruin the party. So let’s not mention it again, okay?”

  Steve locked looks with her, threatening to say more, when Tory walked up between them. “Why’d you take your hair down?” she asked. “Cathy, it was beautiful up!”

  Grateful for the change of subject, Cathy handed her the brush.

  When Tory had finished lacquering Cathy’s hair, they emerged from the bathroom in time to see Tracy barreling for the door.

  “Grandma’s here!” she shouted, and Cathy looked out the window to see Steve’s mother and sister getting out of the car in the driveway. “Let me get it!” she shouted. “Please, can’t I?”

  “All right,” Cathy said. “Have at it.” She turned to Steve and struck a pose. “So give it to me straight. How’s it look?”

  A gentle smile softened Steve’s features.

  “Like cool water in hundred-degree heat. As usual.” He leaned down to kiss her. “How’d I get so blessed?”