by Nancy Moser
He allowed the flight attendant to direct him back into his seat while George pulled him from the side.
The attendant watched until he buckled his seat belt. That’s it; strap yourself into the straightjacket like a good boy. “There now. That’s better. I’ll be right back with your water.”
Henry looked at his lap rather than the eyes of those closest to him. He saw George’s wrinkled hand pat his. “There, there now, Henry. It seems that of the two of us, you’re the one needing the help.”
Henry couldn’t argue with him. He folded his arms around his chest, feeling suddenly cold. And with the cold came the feeling God was very far away.
It scared him to death.
Three
Listen to advice and accept instruction, and in the end
you will be wise. Many are the plans in a man’s heart,
but it is the LORD’S purpose that prevails.
PROVERBS 19:20–21
1:55 P.M.
Roscoe Moore pointed to the worry line between Sonja’s eyes. “It’s gotten deeper.” She laughed nervously, looking at her watch. It was already forty minutes past their scheduled takeoff time. “Yeah, well, hearing we have a problem with the flight tends to do that.”
Roscoe shrugged. “Let it go.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry about things you can’t fix. And you and I certainly can’t fix the plane’s problem or the weather.”
“The question is, can they?”
“The question is, why was Sonja Grafton worried before there was trouble with the flight?”
“You’re not going to let me out of this, are you?”
“Nope.”
Sonja studied him a moment. His looks were handsome but not hunky, his grooming impeccable but not showy, his voice vibrant but not pushy. She had the absurd notion she could tell him anything, and he would understand—and maybe even advise. She could use some advice.
“Do I pass muster?”
She felt herself blush and looked away. “I didn’t mean to stare … I was just—”
“Sizing me up? Determining whether or not you could trust me?”
She laughed. “You’re good.” “Listening is my job.”
“What do you do?”
He shook a finger at her. “Uh-uh. You first, Ms. Grafton.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“Tough. Spill it. With the delay, all we’ve got is time.”
The possibility that Roscoe could help made her stomach quiver in anticipation. Maybe it was a good sign. Maybe her trip would be a breeze. She took a cleansing breath and began. “I’m worried because I finagled my way onto this plane, this trip.”
“Finagled?” His right eyebrow raised.
“It’s a good word.”
He smiled. “But not the most precise one?”
She rubbed her forehead, hiding her eyes from his for just a moment. He is good. She put her hand down. “How about … schemed?”
He rubbed his hands together. “Ooh, the plot thickens.”
Suddenly, Sonja got cold feet. To admit out loud what she’d done.
“You did it to get ahead in your company, right?”
“How did you—?”
He shrugged. “That’s the reason for corporate intrigue, isn’t it? Getting ahead? Leaving others in the dust?”
“I’m not leaving—” She thought of Geraldine back at the office, definitely in the dust. She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong with trying to get ahead?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. But at what cost?”
“It’s not costing me anything.”
He waved a finger at her forehead. “Except some worry lines.”
She ironed them but knew as soon as she removed her finger, they’d spring back. “You’re a man. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I’m a black man. Believe me, I understand.”
Sonja had never thought of that. “Maybe you do.”
He put a hand on her forearm. “Listen, Ms. Grafton, you don’t need to confess anything to me. I’ve been there. And I’ve probably done that.”
“You’ve—” she smiled—“finagled things to get ahead?”
“I was one of the finest finaglers in Phoenix.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes. Very well.”
She blinked.
“That’s not what you expected me to say, was it?”
“Actually, no.”
“Finagling—scheming—does have its moments.” He shook his head, as though something weighed heavy on him. “But the cost, the cost is high.”
“Oh, so you got caught.”
His eyes were intense. “No, I didn’t. I rose to the top of the company, became its president. Had an office suite right out of a movie. Four cars. A house so big we didn’t have to see each other if we didn’t want to. Vacations whenever I wanted.”
“Sounds good.”
“It was—as the world defines good.”
“What other definition is there?”
He sat silent a moment, and Sonja watched his own worry line etch its way between his eyes. Then it faded and he looked up. “There’s God’s definition.”
She sighed inwardly. She didn’t need a sermon. She thought Roscoe could really help her.
“Don’t turn off the ears because I said the G-word, Ms. Grafton.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” He pointed at her eyes. “Watching your reaction … it’s like I saw little shades being pulled down in order to keep out the light.”
“I didn’t—”
“But He is the Light. You don’t want to keep Him out.”
“I’m not—”
“I’m not judging you. I can only judge myself. All I know is when I was at the pinnacle of my success, my blinds were the blackout kind. All I wanted to see was what I could get from the world. Gimme gimme more more. It didn’t matter what people said, what warnings I received. I was content on my side of the blind. Not even my wife could get through to me, though God knows she tried.”
“So what happened to change things?”
“Our little boy was killed.”
She drew in a breath, not expecting anything so awful. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
He looked at his lap. “Yeah, me too.”
“What happened?”
Roscoe put a hand to his mouth as if he wanted to cover the words. “I backed over him.”
Sonja couldn’t restrain the shock. “What?”
“I’d stopped home one evening—I did a lot of ‘stopping home’ back then, and I was in a hurry to get back to work. Eddy was playing in the driveway on his tricycle.” Roscoe’s hands jerked toward his ears as if he wanted to cover them. “I can still hear the thud, the crunch. His scream.”
Sonja put a hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine.”
Roscoe closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to.” It was an accident.” It was a true statement that sounded incredibly lame. “An accident that could have been prevented if I had my priorities straight, if I had my focus on my family instead of my finances and fame.” He opened his eyes, and she could sense the effort it took to clear them. “After Eddy died, I looked at everything—I mean, everything—in my life and found it wanting. What was I working for if not to make a better life for him and my wife?” He shook his head. “My wife had warned me, but I didn’t listen. You should meet her sometime … quite a woman. Quite a woman.” His eyes locked on to Sonja’s. “Listen to me now, Ms. Grafton. Don’t let your focus on getting ahead force you to ignore what is right in front of you.”
“But I don’t have a family. There’s just me. The shortcuts I take now won’t hurt—”
“They’ll hurt you!”
Roscoe’s voice had risen. They both looked around to see who heard. A few people glanced in their direction but quickly looked away.
Roscoe took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was normal. “You might gain material, visible success, but what you
lose, Ms. Grafton … what you lose is more precious than any of that. ‘A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold.’ ”
Then it hit her. Good name? Have I ruined my good name? For what? A few days in Phoenix?
Roscoe slapped his hands against his thighs. “Things are different now; I’m different.”
“Do you still have the business?”
He shook his head. “Sold it. Now I work with poor kids, helping them stay in school and on track. I help them pinpoint their talents and strengths and find jobs. My wife, Eden, works with me.” He laughed. “We live week to week. We sold the big house, the cars …”
“You gave it all up?”
“I gave up a few things and gained my soul.”
A thought burst through Sonja’s lips. “But since you had things, it was easier for you.” She looked away. “I mean, you got to experience success and wealth. It probably was easier for you to give it up than for someone like me who’s never had any of it. My office is a six-by-six cubicle, and my car is held together by rust and dust.”
“It’s been said, ‘It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’ ”
“I don’t get it.”
“People who are rich—whether in regard to money, talents, or even intelligence—tend to depend on themselves.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything.”
Sonja looked out the window of the plane. The snow tatted against the glass. The reality of its properties was a fact she could understand. Roscoe was talking gibberish.
She felt his hand on her arm again. When she turned toward him, his eyes were soft with sincerity. “Ms. Grafton—Sonja—please hear me. I know you’re not comfortable with my God talk. But you’ve got to know that God’s Son, Jesus, died for you—for all of us who mess up and finagle.” He smiled. “He’s taken the hit for our bad doings. And if we believe in Him, we’ll live forever. Sounds like a good trade to me. A little faith, a little surrender, while gaining heaven.”
Oh, please.
Roscoe nodded as if he sensed her reaction. He turned forward in his seat. “Just think about it. I know such decisions don’t come easy. I must have heard a hundred times what I just told you before I let it sink in. And if it weren’t for Eddy’s death, maybe I’d still be in that fancy office, finagling my brains out and losing my soul.”
“But I—”
He raised a hand, stopping her words. “I know. I know every thought you’re thinking. And go ahead and think them, Sonja. Think them hard. But don’t make God do something drastic to get your attention. Don’t make Him reach down and shake you. Look up, away from the world, for just a moment. That’s when you’ll see Him, waiting there for you.” His words caught in his throat. “You’ll see Him. I promise.” Suddenly, Roscoe unbuckled his seat belt and stood. “If you’ll excuse me …”
He headed toward the lavatories, leaving Sonja alone.
Or was she alone? Was Roscoe right? Was God waiting for her to acknowledge Him? Wanting her to relinquish control?
You can do it.
She was immediately confused. Did those four words mean she could surrender to God? Or did they mean she could do it—life—on her own?
She looked up to see Allen coming down the aisle toward her. She shoved the decision into a corner of her mind and applied a smile.
“How you doing back here, Sonja?”
“Fine.”
“Bad luck, having the delay and all. Less time in Phoenix.”
She shrugged.
He took a second look at her. “You look upset. You nervous?”
She shook her head, wishing her emotions would leave her face alone. “I’m fine. I’ve got everything under control.”
He hesitated a moment before turning to leave. “Good. I’m glad someone does.”
Sonja watched him go. Control … she had everything under control?
She flipped the doubt away, thought about bringing the reflections of God out of their corner, but decided against it. She was fine. Everything was fine. There was no reason to change now.
2:10 P.M.
The pilot’s voice interrupted all conversation. “We’re sorry for the delay, folks, but the weather … Mother Nature’s feeling pretty wicked today. Visibility is nonexistent, and the runways are drifted. Hopefully, she’ll ease off soon. Thank you for your patience.”
Merry looked out the window and saw snowplows heading toward the runway. They have to plow the runway?
This whole thing was a fiasco. If only they could be home enjoying a normal Saturday, with Justin making a mess in the family room while he watched TV, his Goldfish crackers scattered all over the carpet. Lou would be puttering down in his workshop, making nothing but noise. And she would be doing laundry and sewing a batch of charity lap blankets for Justin’s school. They wouldn’t have to leave the house all day if they didn’t want to. They could be snug as a bug in a rug. She’d feel safe at home. Bored, but safe.
Safe. You didn’t miss being safe until it was gone.
Lou must have sensed her thoughts, for he reached above Justin’s head and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Mer. Things will be all right. Airlines have to deal with stuff like this all the time.”
She was going to ask how he knew such a thing since this was only the second time he’d flown. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s bad, Lou. I’ve heard of airports being ‘socked in’ but this—”
“That’s for fog. They do have to be able to see.”
Merry tried to see the plane in the gate next to them but could only see the orange of the logo on the side. “They can’t see through this.”
He leaned over her to look for himself. His aftershave was woodsy, and she caught the scent of shampoo in his hair. He sat back, taking the scents with him. “Yup, you’re right. It’s bad. You can worry.”
She laughed. “Thanks a lot.”
“Don’t mention it.”
They both watched Justin color a picture. It was beyond odd how her family was sitting in the seats beside her on what was supposed to be a vacation to get away from them. The best laid plans.
“By the way,” Merry asked, “how did you manage all this? How long have you been planning it?”
“It’s amazing what you can accomplish at five-thirty in the morning.”
Merry had a vague recollection of Lou’s rummaging through drawers while she slept. “This morning?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I was desperate to do something nice for you.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately—according to you—I chose wrong.”
There was still enough anger present to prevent her from contradicting him just to make him feel better. Maybe she’d done too much of that—locking her feelings inside in order to keep the peace, saying the right words instead of the true words.
And yet … she thought of a verse Lou had made her memorize for Bible study: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” But what if the things that were true in Merry’s heart were not pure, lovely, or admirable—and devoid of all nobility? Was she a bad person? Was that the truth? Thinking good thoughts was not something she could turn on like water in a faucet.
Lou was talking. “… I found your ticket in your purse and got on the computer, never imagining the two seats beside you would be vacant.”
Lucky me.
“Actually, they weren’t. There were no tickets available. But I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He smiled as if he were proud of himself. “So I took a chance and bought two standby tickets. I even prayed two people couldn’t go. I felt a little guilty about that, praying that other people’s plans would be ruined so we could go.” He sighed. “But here we are. God must have wanted us on this trip seated right next to you.”
Or maybe you’re merely an
ace at pushing your will on a situation. She’d seen it before. Once Lou got something into his head, he made it happen, and they often paid for it with consequences.
“Once I printed up the standby tickets, I packed us each a suitcase and put them in the back of the van, ready to go before you even got up.”
Merry touched Justin’s arm. “Did you know about this?”
“Not until after Daddy dropped you off. Then he told me we were going too. He even remembered to pack my coloring book.” He turned to his father. “But you could’ve told me, Daddy. I would’ve kept the secret.”
Lou gave Justin a look. “Remember Mommy’s birthday present?”
He turned back to his coloring. “I didn’t mean to tell. It just slipped.”
Booking tickets, packing. “But what did you use for money, Lou? We had to dip into the vacation fund to get my tick—” As soon as she said it, she realized what he’d done.
“I used the vacation fund and put the rest on a credit card.”
The family vacation fund was being used for a family vacation a little sooner than expected. Not what she had in mind. Not at all. And now they were in debt too. “What about your work?”
He squirmed in his seat.
“You did tell them, didn’t you?”
He took a crayon and colored a flower blue. “They weren’t too happy about me taking time off, but I told them it was important.”
“Lou, you shouldn’t have risked your job.”
He stopped coloring and met her eyes. “I’d rather risk my job than risk losing you. I’d do anything for you, Merry. Don’t you know that?”
Sure. Anything except let me go.
2:15 P.M.
Tina looked at her watch. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t plan this getaway so I could sit on the tarmac in a snowstorm.”
Mallory laughed. “It’s okay with me. I’m in no hurry to get back to school.” She laughed again. “Hey, we’re the same.”
Not hardly.
“You don’t want to be in school and neither do I. But it’s worse for you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re a teacher. You’re supposed to be into that learning junk. Remember your passion for books?”