Soul's Gate

by James L. Rubart

  “I’m leaving.” Dana spun on her heel and marched out of the room into the hallway.

  “The considerable distance to the next town that we discussed on the way here has not changed.”

  “I’ll take your rental car.” Dana stopped at the front door, yanked it open, and shouted back toward the great room, “When I come back, don’t be here, Brandon.” She slammed the door as hard as she could and stumbled outside, her shoes kicking up small clouds of dust.

  “Hand me some of that newspaper, Brandon.” Reece pointed to a wicker basket next to the couch.

  “Sure.” Brandon grabbed a handful of paper and walked it over to Reece. He wanted to hand him his resignation papers. He should be the one to leave, not her. Did he expect Dana to be upset? Of course. But not this bad. He’d known he’d hurt her, but it had been three years and . . . the reality was he didn’t know anything. He looked up. Marcus was staring at him.

  “She and I, uh, have some history together.”

  “It was not a challenge to surmise that.” The professor adjusted his glasses. “I assume the severing of the relationship was difficult.”

  “Very.” Brandon turned to Reece, who knelt at the fireplace crumpling the paper and laying kindling on top of it. “By the way, thanks for giving me all that warning about Dana not knowing I would be here.”

  Reece turned to him slowly. “Do you miss her?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Reece turned back to building his fire.

  Wow. Brandon gave his eyes a quick squeeze with his thumb and forefinger. Did he? He hadn’t let that question surface for a long time. Because he didn’t want to face the answer. That can of worms was buried in the vault inside the vault inside the vault. Because if it was yes—he missed her—then he’d blown it by breaking up with her.

  If it was no, then he should have given her a better answer than he did for why he ended things. Who was he kidding? He should have given her a better answer in either case. And he would have, if he knew what it was.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do know.” Reece stood. “I’m going to go talk to Dana.”

  As the sliding glass door closed behind Reece, Brandon admitted the truth. He missed her deeply.

  Dana dug her fingers into the palm of her hand as she stumbled toward the river. No tears. No way. He’d been the cause of a reservoir full three years back. He’d already taken his allotment—and far more than he was worth. But her heart didn’t agree with her head, and tears spilled onto her cheeks a minute later. She walked down the long walkway to the listening post, sat, and stared at the stream, lit like a river of diamonds by the late afternoon sun.

  “What are you doing to me, God? This makes no sense.”

  She held out her ring finger and massaged it with her right index finger. Brandon’s ring had fit there like finger and ring were one. Now it seemed the finger would stay empty the rest of her life. He’d stepped through her front door on that early May afternoon three years ago, and it had taken a millionth of a second to know something was wrong.

  “Hey, handsome.” She sat up in her chair and smiled.

  “Hey.” Brandon closed her front door and stood just inside it, his eyes blinking as his gaze darted everywhere in the room except at her.

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  She motioned him over and set her book on the end table next to her overstuffed light green chair. He sat and Dana took his hands.

  “Talk to me. Did something fall through with our honeymoon?”

  Brandon shook his head.

  “Tell me.”

  He pulled his hands out of hers, pressed his palms against his temples, and leaned his head back. “We’re not supposed to be together anymore.”

  Her throat constricted and a dull tingling sensation smothered her. “Wha . . . what?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The room blurred and everything seemed to slow down. Except for her breathing. She sucked in rapid breaths. “I don’t . . .” No more words came.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Why, Brandon? What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know, I just know it’s right.”

  This was impossible. Three months before the wedding and he’s breaking up with her? “There has to be a reason.”

  “I know, I know . . . you’re totally right, but I just . . . can’t put it into words—”

  “You mean you know why you’re doing this but don’t know how to say it, or you don’t know why you’re doing it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to know!”

  Brandon stood and shouted back, “I don’t know.” He paced on her tan carpet. “If I knew I would tell you.”

  “Have you prayed about this?”

  “Yes, of course. I—”

  She stood and pulled at her white blouse. “It’s nerves, Brandon. That’s all. It happens.”

  “It’s not nerves. It’s just right.”

  “How can it be right if you don’t even know why you’re doing it?”

  “It’s not that I don’t love you, I do, but—”

  “If you love me, then what is it?”

  “Forgive me, but this is what I have to do.”

  They’d talked on and on, never getting any closer to the center—to the reason he was leaving.

  The door had closed behind him an hour later, and Dana sat in the room till night came and tears came no more.

  When her eyes fluttered open early the next morning, the memory of what happened the night before smashed against her heart and the tears came again. Finally she stirred and her head flopped to her right. She glanced at the open Bible on the bottom of the end table. A verse was highlighted in faded yellow. She lifted the Bible to her lap and stared at the words: “Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.”

  A bitter laugh spilled out of her mouth. How ironic. Her weeping had certainly lasted the night, but she wouldn’t be shouting for joy this morning. Two years and thirteen months of mornings had come and gone, and she was still waiting for the joy.

  “Why did you put me through that, Lord?” She looked up at the mountains. “Why am I still going through it?”

  A response came so fast Dana blinked.

  I’m in this.

  The sound of shuffling feet spun Dana around. Head tilted down, hands behind his back, Reece stood ten yards behind her.

  “You feel I’ve betrayed you.”

  “It’s not a feeling, it’s a fact.”

  “May I join you?”

  Dana shrugged.

  Hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, Reece strolled up and stopped a few paces from the wooden lounge chair she sat on.

  “When you break a bone, you often scrape up the skin at the spot where the break occurs. If you went to the doctor and he treated the scrape and did nothing about the break, you’d sue him for malpractice.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’ve been treating the scrape, Dana.” Reece took a step closer. “It’s time to mend the break. Set it right. Give it a chance to heal.”

  “Is that the only reason I’m here? So I can face the fact that Brandon Scott is a colossal jerk? I already know that.”

  “Far from it.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “It’s your destiny to be here, Dana.”

  “Oh really. How nice. Is it Brandon’s destiny to be here too?”

  “Yep.”

  “How interesting that my supposed destiny is intricately tied to the one person in the world I never want to see again. The one person who ripped out my heart and stuck it in a blender.”

  “It is interesting. Because I don’t think God plays dice with our lives.”

  “Einstein. But he said, ‘God does not play dice with the universe.’”

  “Very good. I’d have expected Marcus to know that quote, but not you or Brandon.”

  “
I’m so thrilled I could surprise you.” She leaned back and released a heavy breath.

  He took two more steps and sat next to her on the long wooden lounge chair. “If you want to go home, you can. You can take the car. But before you make a decision, sit here and ask the Spirit what he wants.

  “This is going to sound harsh, but I don’t know any other way to say it. And I apologize ahead of time for being a man. But these next four days aren’t all about you. It’s about the Spirit and what he wants to accomplish inside all three of you, which will train you to do so much for others. This small little group is a body and you need each other. Marcus and Brandon need you. You need them. For whatever reason, God chose the three of you, and no one else can take your place.”

  “I can’t stay, Reece.”

  “The enemy took Tamera out. Don’t let him take you out as well.”

  “If I’d known Brandon would be here, I wouldn’t have come.”

  “Don’t you think God knows that? Which might be one of the reasons you didn’t come to that meeting at Snoqualmie Falls.”

  “I still want to kill both of you.”

  “God and me, or Brandon and me?”

  A smile slipped to the surface of her face.

  Reece leaned forward. “I don’t blame you, but don’t let the emotion of the moment steal what Jesus has here for you.”

  He stood and walked back toward the cabin. Dana watched the undulations in the water, wishing she could get in the current and float away. But Reece, as harsh as he was, was right. God had told her to come. There was no doubt about that. So why would Brandon’s being here change that?

  Because it just did. It changed everything. She screamed into the mountains. Again. And again. Then slid off the chair and sank down till she sat crisscrossed, her head folded forward.

  “Lord, are you in this?” She looked up at the aspen trees. “You say you are, but how can you be in something I can’t do?”

  Stay.

  She continued to stare at the river. Finally she stood, turned, and gazed at the cabin a hundred yards away. “I’m yours. You know that. But while we’re here, if you could give Brandon a serious case of poison ivy or poison oak or whatever kind of poison is in these parts, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

  Thirty minutes later Dana walked through the sliding glass door and eased into the living room. “I’m staying.”

  The closest thing she’d seen to a smile instantly appeared on Reece’s face and vanished just as quickly. “That is excellent news.”

  “I’m pleased, Dana,” Marcus said.

  “Thanks.”

  She didn’t look at Brandon and he didn’t say anything. At some point they’d talk. But not yet. Maybe not at all. She knew that wouldn’t be the case, but she could still hope for it.

  Reece motioned Dana over and as she gazed into those deep liquid blue eyes, a joy washed over her. For all his gruffness, she saw in his eyes a depth of compassion and love she hadn’t known since Pappy died.

  When she reached him she wrapped her arms around his chest and leaned into his massive body. He wrapped her up in his long arms and squeezed so tight, she thought she might burst and wished he would squeeze even tighter. Something broke inside her, but a good kind of breaking. And it wasn’t Reece holding her . . . it was her pappy in the days before he grew weak and succumbed to the leukemia. The moment only lasted a few seconds but it also lasted for centuries, and somehow she knew the healing of her heart had begun.

  Reece gently released her. “Okay. Now that introductions are finished, it’s time for us to meet in a more organized way. Let’s take ten minutes to get settled, and then we’ll meet out at the listening post and talk about what’s going to happen for the next few days.”

  “Are there any accoutrements you’d like us to bring?”

  “Accoutrements?” Brandon snorted. “My dear professor, I’ll have to start carrying around a dictionary to have any hope of understanding you.”

  “Um, paraphernalia, supplies, accessories—things we might need while we’re gathered.”

  “An excellent question,” Reece said. “Yes, bring an attitude that is ready and willing to explore a Christianity you’ve never known before. And bring a heart that is willing to an even greater degree.” Reece gazed at each of them for a few seconds. “We’re about to boldly go where few men and women have gone before.”

  “You need to get out of the sixties, Reece.” Brandon grinned.

  “Star Trek is forever, pal.” Reece tilted his head. “And I’m hoping you soon find out how true that statement is.”

  THIRTEEN

  WHEN BRANDON STEPPED THROUGH THE SLIDING GLASS door that led outside ten minutes later, something told him Reece was right—they were about to go places few others had gone. As he’d done a quick unpacking, Marcus told him about Dana’s healing in the car, and Brandon caught the professor’s excitement about what could happen during this retreat. If it was real.

  The problem with being a performer at his level of fame was he’d been backstage. He’d heard the comments after shows where all the promoters cared about was the gate, people were just dollar signs. He’d seen fake tears spill down the faces of other musicians and pastors and preachers that turned to faces of stone as soon as the curtain closed.

  And the old cliché about one finger pointed at others means three pointed back at you was true. For the past three years he’d been the one smiling onstage, and once he stepped off, he often wore a face only appropriate in a morgue.

  Brandon tightened his grip on the journal Reece had given him and stared at the rest of the group already sitting at the listening post around a fire that crackled in the pit in the center of the patio.

  Reece stood on the edge of the terrace overlooking the river, his broad back seeming to fill the space in between the aspen trees that bordered the circular patio of French limestone. Marcus and Dana sat in teakwood chairs a few yards behind him, both of them writing in journals that looked like his.

  As he settled into a chair next to Marcus, Reece turned and nodded at Brandon, then the others. “Welcome to Well Spring Ranch. Welcome to the war.”

  Reece paused to look into each of their eyes. “My friends, we are not in the garden, and as much as I like John Lennon, love is not all we need. We are living in the midst of an epic battle that will not end till the new heaven and the new earth are revealed. There are no neutral zones; there is no Switzerland in this fight. And sticking our heads in the sand is not an option. We need to be equipped.

  “We have an enemy whose goal is simple: steal, kill, destroy. God has a destiny for you. But so does Satan. God wants the fullness of life for us. Joy. Healing. Freedom. The desires of our hearts to be realized. But this kind of life doesn’t roll off the assembly line. It’s opposed by a demonic host with a hatred of mankind so fierce, the only thing that can stand against it is the risen Christ. But we have been called to stand in the gap. To raise our swords and fight. To bring freedom and healing and hope to the captives.”

  Reece dropped his head and paused again, probably to let the words sink in. When he raised his head, his countenance had lightened.

  “The next four days will be the first phase of your training. The second part will start when we return to Seattle at the end of this week. The journey you’re about to embark on is one of risk. But a life without risk is a life without faith. As Annie Dillard says, ‘You have to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down.’ We are going to be jumping off cliffs together.

  “Let’s pray. You can bow your heads, you can keep your eyes open, shut them, whatever you want to do. All I ask is you join me with all the strength you have.”

  Reece raised his head to the sky. “You are life. We need it. You are freedom. We long for it. You are truth. We have to have it. Come now, Spirit of God. Come now, Jesus. Come, Abba. We invite you in to do what you would do. So be it.”

  Reece stood again and turned toward the river. “Every now and then we g
et a break from reality. A glimpse into the other world that is more real than the reality we live in 99 percent of our days.” Reece spun back around and squatted in front of them.

  “The Bible is about a world of demons and angels and great evil and even greater glory. A world the prophets saw; the world Enoch, and Elijah, and Paul, and John the apostle all saw. A world that is all around us in every moment if we would have eyes to see it and ears to hear it.

  “But we don’t see it. We close our eyes and have created a box within the box. And the church calls men like me—who believe there are no boundaries—a mystic.”

  Reece pointed at the flames that leapt out of the fire pit. “Can you explain what you’re seeing?” He looked at Marcus. “Maybe you can, Professor. But you can’t touch it, taste it, or contain it.”

  He picked up a small log and tossed it into the center of the pit, sending sparks skyward. “Yet its power is unmistakable.

  “At Pentecost it was tongues of fire. The Spirit is described as a consuming fire. Fire is what consumed the prophets of Baal.

  “And the fire of the Spirit is what will refine and restore and set us free. During our time here, my belief is the Trinity will speak to each of you specifically, go deep into your soul, and begin a work of restoration. I pray you will allow that fire to burn bright.”

  Reece sat down again, closed his eyes, and didn’t speak for so long Brandon glanced at the others. Their eyes held the same question his likely did. Should they say something? A few seconds later Reece sat forward and glanced at Dana and him. “Now, before we go further, I need to make sure you”—Reece pointed at Dana, then him—“and you will not be affected in the present by what happened in your past.”

  “No, I won’t,” Brandon said.

  “Dana?” Reece asked.

  “I’m fine.”