“No more rifle bullets,” Phil said, throwing the rifle down and pulling out his handgun. “The police better get here fast.”
Only a few seconds later they heard a shout from outside. “Look out, here come the cops!”
“They’re here!” Ryan yelled. He ran to the door and looked out. “Marx’s men are running.”
“They won’t get far,” Phil said grimly. “We’ve got fifty men surrounding this place. They’ll all be coming in now that they’ve seen the flare.”
He walked over to Amelia and halted. His face was grim, and lines of strain marred his cheeks. “Are you all right, sis?”
“Yes.”
“They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
“I just have a lump on my head—but worse than that is they were going to kill me, and you too.” She turned to Ryan, who was standing to one side saying nothing. She walked over to him and said, “You found me, Ryan?”
“I think God must have had something to do with it.” He explained how he had located her and then said, “I think it’s the end for Leo Marx and his bunch. Was he inside?”
“Yes, he and Jake—the man you shot at—but he might be dead.”
“Leo might be better off if he were,” Ryan said slowly.
Amelia reached out and took his hand. “You came for me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I’ve got something to tell you. Something you’ll like.”
“Tell me now.”
“All right. You know I’ve been a fugitive from God for years. That’s what Phil always called me, but last night when I thought I was going to die, I cried out to God. I’ve always thought that was a poor way to treat God, to run from Him until you got into trouble. But I cried anyway and something happened, Ryan. I’ve always heard my father’s and my uncle’s stories about how people were changed. I saw Rosa get changed, and last night it happened to me. Jesus Christ came into my heart. I’m afraid I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m on my way.”
Ryan stepped forward and took her in his arms. She clung to him almost desperately, and he whispered, “We’ll go together, Amelia.”
****
Leo Marx’s gang was annihilated in the gunfight with the police. Prado and the other lieutenants who had been in the house were all killed, and Marx was captured. The charge of kidnapping would lead him to the electric chair.
Now that his sister was safe, Phil’s concerns shifted to Rosa and their life together. He took time off work to go to her house. She met him at the door but closed it behind her, saying, “Let’s walk outside for a time.”
“All right.”
The two walked along the shaded drive of the Morino estate, and finally Phil said, “I want to marry you, Rosa, but it’s going to be hard because of your father.”
Rosa turned and put her hands on his chest. Her eyes were bright with hope as she said, “He’s getting out of the rackets, Phil. He’s worried about Jamie, and he’s sick. He may not have much time left, and he wants to spend it with his family.”
Phil listened, and a load seemed to come off his shoulders. “That makes things a lot easier. Someday I’d like to run for district attorney. It’ll be a hard fight, and if I win, it’ll be even harder. Do you think you could be a politician’s wife?”
Rosa reached up, put her hands on the back of his neck, and pulled his head down. “I can be your wife,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.
****
Amelia’s agent, Sid Menkin, had done everything but get down on his knees to get her to accept the lead role in All for Love. He had met with her three times, and the last time, Ryan Kildare was with her. “Talk some sense into her, Mr. Kildare,” Sid pleaded. “She’s throwing away a fortune!”
“I can’t do a thing with her.” Ryan smiled. “You have no idea how stubborn this woman is.”
“You might as well give up, Sid,” Amelia said. “I’m not going to be in that play.”
The short, round man stared at her, sighed, then drew his shoulders together in a gesture of defeat. “You’re crazy,” he muttered. “You’re totally, completely crazy.” He left, moaning to himself, and Ryan studied Amelia.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“It’s what you want me to do, isn’t it?” Amelia smiled.
“Yes.”
He came over, took her hand, and held it. “I don’t have anything to offer you, Amelia. I’ve devoted my life to working for the poor, which means I’ll never again be a rich lawyer.”
“That doesn’t matter to me, Ryan.” Amelia put her hand on his cheek. “All that matters is having you beside me. I’m so happy!” She thought about her life fleetingly and then smiled. “I’m not a heavenly fugitive anymore. God has found me . . . and so have you.”
GILBERT MORRIS spent ten years as a pastor before becoming Professor of English at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas and earning a Ph.D. at the University of Arkansas. During the summers of 1984 and 1985, he did postgraduate work at the University of London. A prolific writer, he has had over 25 scholarly articles and 200 poems published in various periodicals, and over the past years has had more than 70 novels published. His family includes three grown children, and he and his wife live in Alabama.
The Heavenly Fugitive Page 31