“Th-this is Lynn Harper, the woman who claims Chance healed her from blindness. I used some of her quotes in my first article.”
“I thought you said that blind woman didn’t know who the mystery man was.”
Travis’s ears started burning. “Th-that’s what she told me, too! She knows this guy? What if they got a scam working?” He started nodding as he pieced it all together in his mind. “Yeah, I bet they prey on gullible church people and make it look like people are getting healed, but it’s all fake. Steve Martin did a movie on that years back, didn’t he?”
Stu nodded. “Leap of Faith. Funny movie.”
“Yeah, this has gotta be a scam!”
“But why? Where’s your motive?”
“I don’t know.” He also didn’t know how his nephew fit into this scenario, because whatever argument he tried to make, it was beyond his intellect how Eddie could now hear and walk. That healing was certainly not fake.
“I think I need to have another talk with this Lynn Harper woman. My gut tells me she’s hiding something.”
Chapter Thirty-one
AS THE HEALING SERVICE’S new testimonies continued piling in, Lynn’s team worked double time to make sure all the testimonies were documented. Every person who had gotten healed at the altar received periodic prayer calls, ensuring that they “hold on” to their healings. Pastor Gentry had stressed the importance of these prayer calls, reminding them the devil often brought seeds of doubt to the minds of those who’d been healed.
“Walking in divine health should be the primary aim after a miracle healing service,” Gentry had said to the outreach team. “It’s wonderful to see someone healed of cancer, but not if that cancer comes back after a one-year remission. We need to arm those testifying of their healings with God’s Word so they can daily confess the divine health that God desires they walk in.”
In addition to the prayer calls, initiatives were also set up to provide healthy-living alternatives. The reasoning behind such effects were sound—those healed of high blood pressure-related problems, diabetes, or heart problems needed to modify their daily eating and exercise habits with positive alternatives. Pastor T. R. Smallwood had been the first to enroll in Faith Community’s new senior-citizen aerobics class, making it widely known that it was now his personal responsibility to maintain the healthy heart God had blessed him with.
Lynn heard a knock on her door and looked up to Arlene’s smiling face. “You doing alright today, Lynn?”
Lynn smiled back at her friend. “I’m doing great. Busier than I’ve ever been in recent memory, but great.”
“Well, ask and you shall receive, right? How many healings have been documented so far from the service?”
“Fifteen, so far. Everything from arthritis to chest pains, chronic migraines to heart conditions. God is so awesome, Arlene! And the faith of the congregation for divine healings is growing by leaps and bounds.”
“I know my faith is growing in the area of healing. My nephew was sick with the flu this morning, so I stopped by his house to lay hands on him and pray the Word of God over him.” She smiled. “Of course, I’m also believing God to work through that TheraFlu medicine and chicken noodle soup, but I know that God can touch his body.”
“That’s absolutely right. You know, during those weeks that I was blind, I sometimes wondered where God was. Why did He allow my car window to explode right into my eyes? It seemed so unfair, and I couldn’t understand why a loving God would allow that to happen to me. But now that my sight is restored, it’s like my faith has gone to another level. I was praying for this woman at the altar who was dealing with the early stages of Alzheimer’s. And even though my rational mind knows there’s no known cure for the disease, my faith didn’t care! I mean, I was blind for seven weeks with virtually no chance to recover full sight! But what the doctors couldn’t do, God did! And now my 20/20 vision has been restored, and I’m beginning to understand why God allowed me to go through those seven weeks. Because in order to go from strength to strength, you first have to go through weakness. In order to go from glory to glory, you have to endure some . . . Well, for lack of a better word . . . you have to endure some hell.”
“Lynn, you’re preaching now! And you are so right. I watched you go through that devastating season, and seeing how you kept confessing the Word for your healing stirred something up in me.”
Lynn was about to reply when her phone started ringing.
Arlene shook her head knowingly and headed for the door. “No rest for the weary, huh?”
“Apparently not. Talk to you later, girl.” Lynn picked up her receiver. “Faith Community Church, Minister Harper speaking.”
“Lynn? Travis Everett, the State. You got a moment?”
Lynn’s first response was to give this lying reporter a good piece of her mind, but that wouldn’t be right. It would’ve felt good, but . . . it wouldn’t have been right.
“Do I have a moment to talk? About what? You want to use my name to support your half-truths and unfounded theories once again?”
“Miss Harper, in no way did I intend to—”
“Whatever your intentions were doesn’t matter to me. What does matter, however, is the good faith on which I spoke with you concerning this man God is using in a mighty way.”
“Good faith? You want to talk about good faith, Miss Harper? If I remember correctly, you told me you had no idea who this man was.”
“Yes, and what I told you was the truth. What you wrote, however, was nothing but sensationalism and lies. I never said this man claimed to be Je—”
“Pardon me, Miss Harper, but you’re hardly in a position to lecture me on the subject of lying.”
What! Was she hearing this man correctly? Who in the world did he think he was? He was on the verge of harassing her, and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to be staring at a lawsuit. Saved woman of God or not, she wasn’t one to play the fool.
“You listen to me carefully, Mr. Everett. I don’t know who you think you are, but—”
“Let me tell you exactly who I am. I’m a reporter with the scoop on the most talked-about story in South Carolina. And before you say something else that you might regret, I should probably inform you that I’m in possession of a videotape showing you and our infamous mystery man boarding a train to Savannah, Georgia, five days ago. Oh, and he’s not such a mystery man anymore. His name, as you well know, is Chance Howard.”
Lynn’s mouth fell open. He knows Chance’s name . . . he has a videotape . . .
“I’m also in possession of a videotape showing you and Mr. Howard talking rather candidly in that Savannah train station. Now, would you care to retract your previous statement about not knowing who this man is?”
“I . . . I . . . um . . . you can’t . . .”
“Oh, I most certainly can, Miss Harper. You see, as a newspaper reporter, I believe in the freedom of speech and freedom of the press, which is protected by the First Amendment of our great Constitution. So I have every right to publish this information whether you like it or not. Cat still got your tongue?”
The . . . nerve! The nerve of this man! “Mr. Everett, I . . . I can explain everything.”
“I’m sure you can, Miss Harper. But you see, I have quite an important story to write—one based on facts and not the lies of someone who claims to be a minister of the gospel.”
What! “Mr. Everett, you are way out of line! I haven’t said anything to you that was not true. At the time we spoke, I had no idea who this man was.”
“Rii-iight. So I suppose you just happened to run into him at that train station.”
“Well . . . yes,” Lynn replied, knowing how unrealistic that sounded. “Yes, that is exactly what happened.”
Travis started laughing. “You expect me to believe that? You expect the 115,000 daily subscribers to the State to believe that?”
“B-but . . . but surely you don’t plan to reveal this man’s identity!”
“I mo
st certainly do. As a matter of fact, I have a flight to catch to Louisiana to obtain a quote from Chance Howard himself. Seems I can’t track down his phone number, but being the diligent reporter I am, I understand the importance of allowing all involved parties an opportunity to be quoted. You’ve had your opportunity, and I’ve got to say, I’m a little disappointed in you. But no matter—it will make a better story if I get a quote straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“You know about Louisiana?” Lynn could not believe what she was hearing. After Chance had confided in her how much he respected his privacy, and how she had sensed the extent of his personal pain, how could she let this headline-seeking reporter just go traipsing off to Louisiana! Making matters worse, she felt guilty about the whole affair, like she had somehow personally led Travis to Chance.
“Mr. Everett, you don’t understand,” she started pleading once more, but she quickly realized that saying anything else was a waste of breath. The hollow, empty ringing of a dial tone on the other end of the phone signaled that Travis Everett had ended this conversation.
Chapter Thirty-two
I’VE GOT TO WARN CHANCE . . .
This immediate thought raced through Lynn’s mind as she hung up her phone with now-trembling hands. Forgotten were all the wonderful healing testimonies she’d just documented on a spreadsheet just ten minutes earlier, and in their place was a world of worries.
What was she supposed to tell Chance, assuming she now called him? The conversation she imagined in her mind was downright foolish-sounding.
“Hello, Chance?” she might say. “Um . . . I know how much you value your privacy, but there’s a reporter headed your way wanting to do a surprise interview with you. What? How did he find out where you live? Well, he must have tracked security tapes at different Amtrak stations after he spotted me with you. What? Yes, he spotted you with me. Why was he following me? Now that’s . . . a good question.”
Chance Howard did not need the misguided publicity of a headline-seeking reporter prying into his personal life under the guise of “the people’s right to know.” And why was Chance Howard’s identity such a big deal to Travis Everett anyway? Not only was this reporter way out of line to initially write such lies about Chance, but he was still missing the most important story angle—that God, not man, was working all these miracles. Lynn had even reminded her outreach and altar workers team not to get caught up by one person possessing a gift of healing. It was the same principle written about in Acts 5:13, where the people esteemed the disciples highly, as the disciples healed all manner of sicknesses and diseases. It was easy to become distracted by the men you saw perform the healings in place of God, who alone possesses the power to heal.
Wait a minute, Lynn thought, mentally processing a piece of information she’d missed before.
Everett . . . Everett . . . Earlier, she’d been typing the names of those healed at the altar into her database, and there was something familiar about the last name Everett. She quickly pulled up her alphabetical list and scanned for the E’s.
Everett, Eddie.
It was the name of the little boy who had had his hearing restored and been given strength to his ankle bones. In the column underneath Eddie’s name, Lynn had listed all family members who were living in the area. Eddie’s mother and father, Andrea and James, lived in Columbia. And Eddie also had an uncle in Columbia by the name of . . . Travis.
“No, it can’t possibly be . . .” Lynn dialed the phone number listed by Eddie’s name.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered on the third ring.
“Hello. Is this Andrea Everett?”
“Yes, it is. May I ask who’s speaking?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Lynn Harper from Faith Community Church.”
“Oh, hello! So great to hear your voice! How are you?”
“Blessed, thank you. Um, listen, I was just running through the list of everyone who spoke during our healing service, and I had a quick question for you. It’s really nothing . . . I was just curious—Travis Everett is Eddie’s uncle, correct?”
“Yes. Travis is my brother. If you’re asking about our last names, it’s a funny thing, but we’re all Everetts. James, my husband, also has the last name Everett. I had to make sure we weren’t cousins when we started dating!”
“I just had a question about Travis. Does he work as a reporter for the State?”
There was a definitive pause on the other end of the line. “He . . . well, yes. Yes, Travis is a reporter with the newspaper. Are you asking that because of what he’s writing on the mystery-man story?”
This is the same Travis! “Sort of. Travis called me as a reference on the first story, but I’m afraid he took my words completely out of context.”
“Oh, Miss Harper, I’m so sorry. I’ve been trying to talk to him about not writing this story, or at least to stop being so skeptical about God’s role in these healings.”
“But I don’t understand. As Eddie’s uncle, Travis must have seen that remarkable miracle up close.”
“He did! But Travis can be so . . . stubborn sometimes. He’s never believed in Christ, you see, and even though the proof of God’s power is right before him, he still won’t believe. But I’m still praying for him. The Bible says that God is not willing for any man to perish, and the effectual, fervent prayers of the righteous avail much.”
“That’s certainly true,” Lynn agreed. More than anything else right now, she held fast to the truth of that scripture.
“WE CERTAINLY HAVE a situation here,” Pastor Gentry remarked after Lynn filled him in on her conversation with both Travis and Andrea Everett. “If Chance is as guarded as you say . . .”
“He is.”
“. . . then I believe he should be forewarned about Mr. Everett showing up in Louisiana.”
Lynn nodded. “I know. When Chance told me how the people in his hometown treated him and how he still blames himself for his wife’s death . . . the last thing he needs is for a reporter lusting after publicity to show up on his doorstep. What should I do?”
Pastor Gentry leaned forward and steepled his fingertips together underneath his chin. “You have his phone number?”
Lynn nodded.
“Well, I suppose you could call him, or . . .” He arched an eyebrow.
“Or . . . what?” Lynn had been mulling over the idea since Travis had told her he was heading to Louisiana, but the thought was even crazier than purchasing a last-minute train ticket to Savannah. She wondered where these newfound radical thoughts were coming from. Well, the man had been so instrumental in healing her of blindness, so what else was she to do?
“Well, you could fly to Louisiana like this reporter is doing,” Pastor Gentry said, confirming Lynn’s crazy idea. “Remember what I said to you earlier? How nothing happens to us by coincidence and how our steps are ordered by God? You may have thought it merely an impulse to buy that train ticket, but doing so gave you an opportunity to spend meaningful ministry time with Chance. And after how God used him to open your blinded eyes, it’s only reasonable to grasp some sort of connection between you and him.”
“I was thinking the exact thing myself.”
Chapter Thirty-three
POP, TODAY I’M GONNA FIX YOU a real breakfast,” Chance yelled out over his shoulder, while the egg whites fried in the skillet. He was once famous for his mouthwatering egg-and-cheese omelets, but it had been years since he’d last stood in front of a stove. Still, he was discovering that he hadn’t lost his touch; it was just like riding a bicycle—once you knew how to do it, you didn’t forget. He used to make Nina breakfast in bed from time to time, knowing that the only thing better than preparing a delicious meal was having someone to prepare it for.
“What you say about breakfast?” Bennett asked, hobbling into the kitchen.
Chance turned around, wiped his hands on his apron, and grinned. “I said I’m gonna fix you a real breakfast, one of my omelet delights.”
“You aim to put
a hurtin’ on an old man? My body can’t take all that cholesterol.”
No, your body can’t take all that alcohol, Chance wanted to respond. “I’ve modified my recipe, Pop. I make ’em low in cholesterol now, but the taste stays the same. It’s just what the doctor ordered.”
“Well, alright. If you say so.”
A few minutes later, Chance carried two plates over to the table and watched with faint amusement as his pop attacked his omelet with gusto.
“Hungry, huh?”
“Mmm . . . starving is more like it. I ain’t had something this good since you left, son.”
Since I left . . .
“You not leavin’ me again, is you?” Bennett asked, seemingly reading Chance’s mind.
“I don’t know, Pop. Everything was so messed up before, you know? And I just needed some . . . some time. I had to get away for a while.”
“I know you did. But Jucinda ain’t talking about you no more.”
“That’s because she hasn’t seen me in two years. But Nina was her only daughter. And Jucinda resented me for what she thought I did like a black man resents the Ku Klux Klan. I just . . . I don’t know that I’m ready to come back and face all that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”
Bennett snorted. “Jucinda jus’ needs to wake up and smell the coffee. You didn’t take her baby away. Cancer did. It’s a hard fact of life, but there ain’t nothing nobody can do about it.”
Chance nodded. “I don’t think that’s true, Pop. God can heal any disease.”
Bennett snorted again. “God can do whatever He wants to, but that don’t change the facts of what happened.”
Chance fingered the rim of his glass, staying silent about his gift of healing. He had never felt led by the Spirit to approach his father and ask if he could lay hands on him; he supposed it just wasn’t in God’s perfect timing yet.
Bennett finished the last of his omelet and smacked his lips together. “That was good, son! When a man fills his stomach like that, it makes him ready for God’s greatest leisure activity. You ready to take the boat out on the lake?”
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