Destiny's Dream

by Delia Latham

  “What are you lookin’ at?” A dark scowl shadowed his pale face and thinned his lips even further. She shook her head, almost glad for the greasy cloth in her mouth that kept her from spouting off some derogatory and inflaming description. He had, after all, asked!

  “Bah!” He waved a deprecating hand. Striding forward, he passed Destiny and rounded her desk, where she heard him moving things around, searching. The scratch of a pencil on paper soon followed.

  When he moved once more into her line of vision, his long, bony fingers were wrapped around a sheet of her letterhead. The paper was rolled into a cylinder and held with a rubber band. He eyed Julie and Destiny for a moment. Then his lips widened into a cold grin. Dropping onto one knee, he laid the paper aside and grabbed a handful of Destiny’s hair.

  The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears like thunder. What was he up to now? A rough tug of her hair brought her head sharply into contact with Julie’s. When he picked the paper off the floor beside him, she realized his intentions. Leave your cowardly message then, and just get out.

  But he had one last thing on his agenda.

  He stood, pulled the little handgun from his pocket and pointed it at Julie’s head. The girl gave a pitiful moan, and Destiny’s heart sank. Dear God, please don’t let this happen! Deliver us from this evil. Please, God…

  The stranger watched her through narrowed eyes. Perhaps he was pulling strength from the terror that must be evident in her face. “Sometimes words ain’t enough. Some folks, you gotta show ‘em you mean what you say.”

  Destiny watched in agony as his finger toyed with the trigger. He stroked it, tickled it, teased it, and all the while Julie moaned in terror.

  But then the gun began to shake. The long fingers wrapped around the weapon in an iron grip began to tremble violently. Seeing it, Destiny’s eyes cut to the man’s face. What she saw was a white mask, a reflection of some powerful internal emotion. He gaped at his own hand as if shocked by its behavior.

  His gaze bounced around the room, finally settling on the wall behind her desk. They widened in apparent fear before moving back to her face.

  Stiffly, he lowered his arm and slipped the weapon into a deep pocket in his cargo pants. He swooped up his toolbox and strode to the door, where he turned to fix Destiny under a glare that, despite a stubborn bravado, seemed to lack its former confidence.

  “This is your last warnin’, missy. I’d heed it if I ‘as you.” He flicked off the light and kicked the door shut.

  Destiny had deliberately chosen an office with no windows, knowing her own tendency to be distracted by the outdoors. But in the smothering darkness that followed their tormentor’s departure, she promised herself a window, if it meant relocating Solomon’s Gate.

  “Destiny?” Clay’s voice, soothing as a gentle ocean mist, interrupted her reverie, and brought her back to the present. His searching gaze moved over her face. “Are you OK?”

  She shuddered. “I was taking a little trip down Memory Lane, but I’m fine now.”

  “I don’t think so, Sweethea—uh, Destiny.” Clay looked away.

  She watched, fascinated, as a muscle in his jaw worked in steady rhythm. When he looked at her again, concern creased his brow. “I think you need a break. Anyone would, after that kind of ordeal. And this guy is not kidding around. He’s dangerous. Until they catch him…” He stopped and blew out a frustrated breath. “For the love of God, woman, why won’t you just let me take care of you?”

  She swung her bare feet onto Claire’s sofa, leaned her head against the cushy back and closed her eyes. “You are taking care of me. Just not all by yourself, because I’m still capable of helping with that. And I am taking a break.” She opened one eye and grinned. “It’s Friday night now, and I don’t go back to work until Monday.”

  Clay’s scowl told her he was not amused. Sighing, she closed her eyes again, listening to his footsteps as he paced from one end of the room to the other.

  Part of what he said was true. The man, who remained nameless, had proven himself dangerous. I’ll call Julie tomorrow and tell her to stay out of the office until that awful man is safely behind bars.

  As for herself, she intended to be there. God had given her Solomon’s Gate, and she refused to give that menacing cur power over her. Not with God on her side. She would be right back behind her desk bright and early Monday morning.

  ****

  Over the years, Clay’s boyhood routine of attending church on a regular basis had fallen by the wayside. Now that he’d met Destiny and observed her unswerving dedication, not only to God, but to her church family, he found himself missing that connection. Since the day of Miss Margie May’s farewell service, he had been feeling differently about church and a relationship with the Almighty. So on Sunday morning, he decided to accompany Destiny to her morning service.

  Besides, he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

  His gut told him she was in extreme danger, and he was still on edge after Friday afternoon’s terrifying episode. His mind insisted the traumatic event was only the beginning of the punishment the criminal wanted to inflict on Destiny.

  And his heart said he’d be a fool to risk losing this woman, especially since he was beginning to realize he loved her more than the very air he breathed.

  He found her leaning against the counter in his mother’s kitchen, downing a tall glass of orange juice. She looked up with a grin and mouthed an impish “Ooh-la-la!” Clay sighed and tugged at the pesky necktie he usually abandoned on weekends.

  Destiny was dressed completely in white, from the pearl combs in her hair to a long dress with a full, flowing skirt, the hem of which swung just above a pair of ivory pumps.

  He caught his breath at the angelic picture she made. Bright sunlight streamed through the window behind her, turning her hair into a radiant nimbus, which spilled over her shoulders in a smooth cascade of shiny locks, the customary high ponytail having been released for the day.

  She spoke first, and he was grateful. He wondered if his own voice might be permanently stuck in his throat.

  “Going to work on a Sunday, Gallagher?”

  He hooked a large mug out of a cabinet and filled it with coffee before settling in at the table. After clearing his throat, he managed to come off sounding halfway natural. “Actually, I thought I’d tag along with you today, if you don’t mind.”

  Her eyebrows, the same deep auburn color as her hair, shot up. “You’re going to church with me?”

  “I’d like to. Only if you don’t mind, of course.”

  “You know you’re welcome to go!” Her wide smile wavered, and she eyed him with evident suspicion. “But not as a watchdog.”

  He shrugged. “I really want to go, Destiny. I’ve been meaning to get back in the habit, and I think it’s time. Seems I owe the Almighty some big-time gratitude, since He kept you—and Julie, too—from what could have been a disastrous end on Friday.” He squinted at her over the rim of his mug. “But since I’m going to be there anyway, I admit I’ll be planting myself between you and any unsavory-looking strangers I happen to see hanging around. Think you can live with that?”

  She rolled her eyes, but the smile that robbed him of breath and turned his insides to quivering jelly stayed in place. “I suppose so. Just don’t tackle every man who comes near me. It would be a little out of keeping with the occasion if you strong-armed Pastor Paul, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess it would.” He grinned, allowing his eyes to feast on the soft lines of her face. “But I’m not promising anything, lady. If I see a sharp-nosed dude with a hank of hemp hanging out of his hip pocket, all bets are off—even if he’s carrying the Holy Bible in one hand and wearing a shiny halo.”

  She sputtered, quickly covering her mouth to keep from dribbling on her pristine white dress. He passed her a napkin with a flourish distinctly reminiscent of Luc Jaussaud, and she used it before bending to kiss his cheek.

  “Deal! I’ll get my purse and B
ible. You finish your coffee, and we can go.”

  ****

  As Pastor Paul Porter extended an altar invitation, Destiny sneaked a peek at Clay’s face. His hands had been fisted into white-knuckled balls for the past twenty minutes. Now a muscle worked in the strong line of his jaw as the familiar, sweet notes of “Softly and Tenderly” played in the background. Miss Willard was consistent in her preference for the old hymns. Right now, Destiny had no objection.

  She laid a gentle hand over one of Clay’s hard fists. He opened his eyes and slanted a misty look her way even as he unfurled his fingers to wrap them around hers. Without a word, he nodded, and they stood. Destiny walked with him toward the front of the church, joyous tears dimming her vision.

  Those tears began to fall in earnest when Jenna stepped out from a pew a few rows ahead of them. With a tremulous smile, Dr. Bob Clevenger’s high-society wife took Destiny’s other arm and the three of them continued down the aisle.

  Destiny wondered if her heart could actually contain so much happiness. She breathed a prayer of gratitude for this double blessing, coming as it did on the heels of the most traumatic experience of her life.

  Weeping endureth for a night, but joy comes in the morning. Thank you, Father, for this happy day!

  Clay wanted to take the sisters out for lunch after church, but Jenna declined, stating her need to hurry home to Dr. Bob and the twins. Cassie and Carrie had slept over with a neighboring friend, which freed their mother to attend service without the girls in tow.

  “I’ll be bringing them from now on.” Jenna’s face shone with a new light as she hugged them both good-bye. “But I think God worked it out for me to be alone this morning. Otherwise, I might not have been so willing to go forward.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” Destiny’s jaw throbbed, but she could not stop smiling. “Well, we’ll miss you, Squirt.”

  “Stop calling me that!” Jenna sent her a playful glare as she slid behind the wheel of her BMW. “And I’ll take you up on it next time, Clay.”

  They watched her back out of her parking space and turned toward their own vehicle. But Jenna’s voice stopped them.

  “Clay!” she called. “This makes us twins—doesn’t it?”

  Clay looked a bit confused, but Destiny laughed aloud. “You’re right, sis, it does. I’ll explain it to him later. What a concept! We get to have two twin birthday parties every year from now on.” She waved as her sister eased the car forward. “Say hello to Dr. Bob for me.”

  At last ensconced in Clay’s Jeep—his favorite playtime vehicle—he eyed her warily. “What was that all about—that twin thing?”

  “Well, you were both reborn this morning, weren’t you? Guess that means you’re permanently a part of our family, now.” At his huge grin, she decided her words hadn’t had quite the effect she intended. Well, she’d have to do better than that. “Jenna now has the right to boss you around just like she does me.”

  Now that uncertain frown was more like it!

  Destiny's Dream

  17

  Destiny stood outside Solomon’s Gate, key in hand, and drew the cool morning air deep into her lungs. Still she found it hard to breathe, and her hands shook so hard she couldn’t fit the key into the lock.

  Without a word, Clay took it from her. He slid it into the keyhole but made no move to turn it. Instead, he held her gaze with his own for a moment. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? I’ll take you back home right now if you’ll just—please—give it another day or two.”

  “No! Just open the door, OK?”

  Shaking his head, he did as she asked. Destiny knew he didn’t want her to be here, especially since she’d be alone, having told Julie to stay home. Clay offered to use the receptionist’s desk himself and do his own work via laptop, as much as possible. But she wouldn’t hear of it. He had a business to run, just as she did.

  God had been her Friend on Friday. In her heart of hearts, she knew that He prevented the gunman from shooting Julie, and possibly both of them. She saw the effort the intruder made to pull the trigger of his little weapon of death. A battle had raged between God and man—and she was a witness to the man’s defeat.

  Lifting her chin, she walked through the door the insufferable sharp-nosed fellow had ordered her to lock for good. Holding out her hand, she met Clay’s troubled eyes with quiet confidence.

  “Thank you. May I have my key back now? I’ll be needing it again.”

  Clay reluctantly placed the key in her hand and curled her fingers around it. He wrapped his big hands around her closed fist as he searched her face, as though hoping to find some sign of weakness. She made a deliberate effort to hold his gaze without wavering, and finally he sighed and turned away.

  Clay made a quick but thorough search of the entire suite while she put away her purse and turned on the computer. Before leaving, he drew her gently into his arms. “Let me stay here with you—just for today.”

  Tiptoeing, she brushed her lips against his cheek and made herself step out of his all-too-welcome embrace. “Go to work, Gallagher. You can trust God to take care of me. He does it well.”

  He nodded, and managed a little smile. “Yes, but someone once told me that we are God’s hands and feet—even His voice on this earth. I’m just making myself available for the job.”

  Laughing, she pointed at the door. “No fair quoting me back at myself. Go!”

  He went, dragging his feet and casting pitiful, plaintive glances her way. And despite her determination, Destiny wavered when he disappeared from her line of sight—but only for half a second. Then she lifted her chin and marched into her office, forcing herself to leave the front door unlocked.

  Her customers must be granted access to Solomon’s Gate. She’d just have to trust God to keep any evil outside. Still, when she heard the tinkle of the front door a few minutes later, her heart beat a rapid tattoo, and she found herself physically unable to call out a greeting.

  Rising, she made her silent way across the carpeted room and leaned her head against the wall next to the door. Breathing slowly through her mouth, she gathered every ounce of courage she had and peeked around the doorway into the lobby.

  Blonde hair swinging with the movement, Julie looked up from her desk. “Morning, boss!”

  A sudden overwhelming wash of relief made Destiny’s knees weak, and she grasped the doorframe. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay at home!”

  Jenna’s twins would have had a hard time outdoing the innocence in Julie’s wide blue eyes. “You did?” She snapped her fingers in mock frustration. “My mama’s right, after all. I’m just not good at following instructions. I guess I messed up a great chance at a little time off, didn’t I?”

  The phone rang.

  “Solomon’s Gate, Julie speaking.”

  ****

  Hours later, Destiny’s head snapped up in startled response to a light tapping on her door.

  Framed in the doorway, Julie looked not a day over eighteen. Her thick, silvery-blonde hair was held with a clip at the nape of her neck, and she wore little make-up. With the exception of her breezy entry that morning, she had not been her normal, chipper self all day.

  Destiny assumed she was still a bit traumatized—justifiably so—after Friday’s horrifying experience.

  But from the vulnerable look on the girl’s face now, Destiny thought the decision to give her assistant space to work things out in her own way might have been a bad move.

  “Are you OK? Come in and talk to me.” She dropped her pen onto the application she’d been reviewing and stood, moving around the desk to join her assistant. She took one of the guest chairs, and Julie perched on the edge of the other, gnawing at her lip as she twisted her hands together in her lap.

  Destiny noticed the dark circles under the young woman’s eyes, and shame washed over her. Her friend was suffering, and it was her fault.

  She spoke gently. “What’s wrong, Julie?”

  Tears filled the g
irl’s eyes, and she lowered her gaze as a pink blush stole into her colorless cheeks. “I’m—I’m sorry, boss. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.” Even as she spoke, a tear fell from her lashes and rolled down one cheek.

  “Cry if you need to. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were so upset before now. And Julie…I’m so sorry you had to go through that horrible ordeal because of me.”

  “It’s not your fault!” Julie’s eyes flashed blue fire as she raised them to meet Destiny’s gaze. “Some people are just creeps, that’s all. You haven’t done anything wrong. In fact, I want to thank you for the way you tried to take care of me on Friday.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I didn’t do a very good job, now did I?”

  “Yes, you did. I, uh—I felt you praying, Destiny. I don’t know how to explain it, and you’ll probably think I’m crazy. But your entire body was….” She hesitated. “Well, I can only describe it as humming. I distinctly felt the vibrations when he pushed you down beside me, and I knew you were praying. You had this inner calm, while I was scared half out of my mind. I mean, seriously, boss—I was totally losing it, but you were amazing!”

  Destiny chuckled. “I was plenty scared. Don’t think I wasn’t.”

  “Well, your fear didn’t control you the way mine did. It was as if you knew he wouldn’t hurt us. I…” Julie lowered her head again, but only for an instant before looking up and into Destiny’s eyes, her chin suddenly set in determination. “I haven’t slept much since Friday. I hear every little sound, and they all frighten me out of my mind. The least little creak of the floor, a car door shutting outside, even a dog barking down the street. Everything sounds sinister to me. It’s as if each tiny noise means that awful man has found me again.”

  Tears forced themselves over Destiny’s lashes and streamed down her face. If only she could somehow turn back time and prevent Julie’s involvement in the horrible situation. She opened her mouth to reply, but sensed that her friend wasn’t finished. She settled for giving the younger woman’s hand a comforting squeeze.