by H. L. Wegley
Lee’s tongue was dry and sticky, while his palms became wet and slippery. Thoughts stacked on top of each other in a pile of confusion.
A voice in his mind spoke. The voice of logic.
This is Jennifer. Settle down, man.
A different voice responded.
Wow! Call her woman.
It sounded like Adam’s voice, but it wasn’t speaking Aramaic.
Granddad tried to hand her off to him, but he couldn’t seem to respond.
Take her arm. That’s what he was supposed to do.
Jennifer smiled at him. Her almond-shaped, brown eyes, like on the evening they first met, were so deep he feared he might drown in them. And they saw everything.
He looked away, feeling if he met her gaze his mind would turn inside out, exposed for everyone in the room to see. His heart had borrowed the racing cam from his Impala’s 283 engine.
Pastor Nelson, standing next to them, raised his Bible to start the ceremony.
How could he continue in this state of mindlessness? He reached for the pastor’s arm and spoke softly, but the church had grown silent as the audience stared at his strange behavior.
Jennifer was supposed to be the focus of attention, not him.
Unable to talk, he cleared his throat. “Pastor, please give me a moment.” He croaked out the words.
“Take all the time you need, son.” Pastor Nelson gave him a knowing smile.
It didn’t help. How could he know what this was like?
A murmur of whispers sounded throughout the room. They were talking about him. Did they think he was backing out at the altar?
The audience was still staring at him. And Jennifer wasn’t Jennifer. She was so much more. He wasn’t even in her class. Wasn’t fit to be standing beside her. “Jenn, please tell me something. Tell me—”
“I’ll tell you something, buster.” She wasn’t whispering. “You just went gaga-eyes. This time takes the cake. I almost bet Katie five dollars you wouldn’t. I would’ve lost. I’m going to kill you when this is over.”
People in the audience gasped.
“You’ll kill me? That’s good. It is you. The same Jenn.”
“Of course, you silly man. Is that your problem? I can fix that.” Jennifer lifted her veil, causing more audible gasps. She kissed him. Not just any kiss. It was last night’s kiss, replicated in detail.
A twitching smile twisted his lips. That’s definitely Jenn.
“OK, Pastor. It’s time for me to marry Jennifer. Uh, rather for you to marry us. And would you please speed things up a bit?”
****
Jennifer looked at her maid of honor. She rolled her eyes at Katie and shook her head.
Katie shoved her fist halfway into her mouth to mute the sound of her giggles, but they were visible through the spasmodic jerking of her shoulders. “I told you so.” Katie mouthed.
When they came to the exchanging of vows, Lee seemed to regain his composure. All distractions ceased to exist as they expressed their hearts’ desire to live as man and wife with God’s blessing on their relationship.
Their kneeling prayer was interrupted by brief laughter. What was that about? Lee’s shoes? Then the ceremony was over, except for the final kiss.
When Lee raised her veil, his eyes spoke the unspeakable to her. “I love you, Jenn. And thanks for throwing in the extra kiss. Is that the surprise?”
“No. Now kiss me, and then we’ll see about the surprise.”
Their discussion before the final kiss brought more murmurs from the audience.
Their first kiss, the one in the cave, she had initiated. But Lee’s kiss was like the one on the Benson’s front lawn seven months ago, but there was no embarrassment and no national television audience. After their lips parted they peered deeply into each other’s eyes for the first time as man and wife.
Mr. and Mrs. Lee Brandt turned to face the wedding guests.
Pastor Nelson reached for one of the microphones. “Before I introduce this newly married couple, the bride has requested to speak to you.” He handed Jennifer the microphone.
Lee looked at her with a questioning frown.
He would soon understand. She raised the mike. “God has richly blessed Lee and me over the past several months. But he blessed me with a personal relationship with Himself here in this church eight months ago. I responded to a message from Pastor Nelson about Jesus, the Way, the Truth and the Life, and I responded to a song that invited me into a relationship with God. My life changed forever. I know this is a wedding, but God is present at weddings. After all, He instituted them. So I want to give anyone here an opportunity to respond to the same invitation I was given. Listen to the words of this song. If your desire is to accept its message, come here and tell us. Someone will meet with you to answer any questions you have and to give you an opportunity to talk to God about your response.”
A deep, rich, contralto voice began to sing. “Come now as the Spirit calls…”
The smiling man in the front row stood, gave Jennifer a hug, shook Lee’s hand, and then walked straight to Katie.
“Granddad! Oh…oh my gosh! You found my note.”
Jennifer moved the microphone close enough to pick up his words.
“Someone told me just as you learn karate from a master, I should learn about God’s love from the Master by reading the book of John. So now I understand about Jesus, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. But I read the other Gospels, too. One thing that amazed me is what Matthew wrote. I think it is in the twentieth chapter. He wrote down Jesus’ words—words that said workers hired at the very end of the day, in the eleventh hour, get the same wages as those who worked all day long. So here I come, in the eleventh hour of my life, to work in His vineyard.”
Katie stepped from the platform and threw her arms around his neck.
Jennifer covered the microphone with her hand and whispered to Katie. “I asked you to pray, and this is what God did.”
Lee put his arm around Jennifer and drew her close. “So this was your secret surprise?”
“The secret was the song and the invitation. The surprise is what God did with it.” Jennifer turned to the pastor who stood patiently, watching the events unfold. “Pastor Nelson, would you please introduce us and then answer any questions my granddad has? Lee and I have a plane to catch…to Maui.”
Lee glanced at the pastor. “Amen to that, preacher.”
Epilogue
January 17
From one side of the stage, Jennifer Brandt peered around the curtain and scanned the auditorium at Washington High School. It was filled to overflowing with parents and students.
She stepped back behind the curtain, where Kirsten, Katie, Mel, and Jennifer formed a circle, holding hands.
Kirsten led them in prayer.
“Let’s go.” Jennifer led the group onto the stage.
The three girls sat down in chairs as Jennifer stepped to the podium. She waited for the first picture to fill the screen above her.
The photo depicted a young girl, about eleven or twelve years old, shrinking in fear from a large man who placed restraints around her wrists. It painted the awful picture sufficiently without being too explicit.
Gasps spread across the auditorium. That was her cue.
“My name is Jennifer Brandt. The picture you’re viewing is an actual photograph seized during a raid of a human trafficker’s palatial residence. What it appears to be…it actually is. The picture speaks for itself and for the millions of young girls who have been forced into sexual slavery.”
Clenched jaws showed on fathers’ faces.
The wide-eyed horror on mothers’ faces brought a knot to her stomach. Jennifer remembered the terror in Mel’s eyes after being shocked with the stun gun. Her heart shifted to a higher gear.
The conviction in her heart would be heard in her voice. And the picture had done its intended work. The audience would listen to her words.
“There is an epidemic, no, a pandemic of ch
ild trafficking. Its dark, evil thread has become deeply woven into the fabric of our society. First came ethical quandary, then a loss of our moral compass, followed by the proliferation of pornography and the view that prostitution is a victimless crime, perhaps no crime at all.
“Now we have children being lured by predators into a life they would never voluntarily choose, while others are snatched literally from their own front yards.
“The average lifespan of a young girl sold into sexual slavery is less than four years. If she is properly marketed in the right location, she will make four to five million dollars for her owner before she dies. Sex trafficking is so profitable that arms and drug dealers are incorporating it into their highly organized operations.
“The average age of girls entering prostitution is thirteen, but it drops every year. Next year it will probably be twelve. For every eighteen year old, how many nine-, ten-, and eleven-year-old girls are required to produce that average? You can do the math. The numbers paint an incredibly evil, ugly, perverted picture.
“Behind me are Katie, Melanie, and Kirsten. Katie was lured to the street in front of her house by a girlfriend, where she was grabbed and pulled into an SUV by two men. Someone abducted Melanie while she walked home from school in plain view of other classmates. A van pulled alongside, and Mel was gone. Kirsten went shopping at a mall with her mother. She left her mother’s side to visit the ladies’ room. Before she could rejoin her mother, Kirsten disappeared.
“I accidentally discovered the traffickers who abducted these girls while working on the Olympic Peninsula. My husband and I went searching for the place where the girls were held and I was captured, too. The traffickers held the four of us, planning to smuggle us out of the country and to sell us who knows where? Southeast Asia? The Middle East?
“Can you imagine what it feels like when a young girl who is helpless and hopeless catches a glimpse of what’s in store for her? Before I could find the traffickers’ holding location, a sixteen-year-old girl hanged herself with her own shoestrings rather than let the traffickers sell her.
“Sell her, that’s an understatement. Children are sold not once, but a dozen times a night for as long as they live.” Jennifer paused to let the information sink in. “And every thirty seconds, somewhere in the world, another girl is victimized by traffickers. In the United States, every two minutes someone’s daughter falls victim.”
Many mothers’ cheeks were wet. Others appeared in shock.
Jennifer continued, telling each parent what to look for to prevent their children from being lured into prostitution, what precautions to take to reduce the chance of a child being taken, how to attack the epidemic at its roots—laws with deadly teeth, a moral awakening in the nation, and a sustained public outcry.
Near the conclusion of her presentation, Jennifer asked the three girls to stand. She gestured towards them. “Beautiful, aren’t they? That was their only crime. Look at them closely. Any one of them could be your daughter.”
“In fact, though she doesn’t know it yet, one of these girls just became my daughter earlier this morning.”
Katie sprinted to her side and her arms circled Jennifer’s neck.
Mel and Kirsten joined her.
In a few seconds, Lee walked onto the stage.
Once again they were a huddle of five.
Katie Brandt broke from the huddle and stepped to the microphone. “Mel, Kirsten, and I were facing oppression, the very worst kind. Sexual slavery. There have been many times throughout history when people were oppressed. The Bible describes one of those times. The passage says when the people were oppressed, they cried out to God. He heard them from heaven and because of his great compassion, He sent them deliverers to rescue them from their enemies. He heard our prayers. For Mel, Kirsten, and me, He also sent deliverers, Jennifer and Lee.
“When they came, they came on the Pineapple Express. The storm—the winds and waves it produced—nearly took their lives.
“But a moral storm, even more destructive than those winds and waves, threatens the life of our country. Who will cry out with me for a deliverer for other girls…and a deliverer for our nation?
“Just as my mom and dad helped rescue me from evil, please consider that maybe you are the deliverer God wants to send. If you sense that He wants to use you, please answer His call.”
How can I help fight human trafficking?
1. Give to worthy organizations that minister to victims.
See Child Trafficking and Labor on the World Vision web site: http://www.worldvision.org/
Give to the Salvation Army’s Stop-It Program: http://www.usc.salvationarmy.org/stopit
2. Report any known or suspected incidences of trafficking.
If you know about someone who is being trafficked or sexually exploited, call the Nineline for immediate help: 1-800-999-9999 or the National Human Trafficking Hotline at 1-888-3737-888.
Thank you for purchasing this Harbourlight title. For other inspirational stories, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.pelicanbookgroup.com.
For questions or more information, contact us at [email protected].
Harbourlight Books
The Beacon in Christian Fiction™
an imprint of Pelican Ventures Book Group
www.pelicanbookgroup.com
May God’s glory shine through
this inspirational work of fiction.
AMDG