Memory's Door (A Well Spring Novel)

by Rubart, James L.

  As the last of the cars with the trainees in them pulled out of the ranch on Sunday late morning, Dana turned and walked north along the river. She needed to get away. Find a slice of silence to sit in and let the intensity of the past three days slide off of her, along with the fear Reece’s eyes would never be restored.

  By the time she’d gone one hundred yards she felt better. By the time she’d gone two hundred a sense of hope welled up inside. It wasn’t over yet, and until it was, she would keep praying for the healing of Reece’s eyes and believing it would happen. She took five steps off the path toward the river to watch the currents as she prayed.

  “Hey!”

  Dana spun at the sound of the voice. Brandon sat twenty yards to her left behind three pine trees, smiling at her—the same smile that melted her heart when they’d first met. Ugh. She was not going to go there even for a second. She’d been down that path so often in the past year her footprints were stamped on the trail like concrete.

  She was done with Brandon forever. She’d told him that. She meant it.

  “Want to talk for bit?”

  No, she didn’t. Yes, she did. Why did she have to be so schizophrenic when it came to him? Probably the curse of once being in love with the idiot.

  “Sure, why not.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  “DO YOU THINK WE’LL SURVIVE WHEN WE GO AFTER THE Wolf?” Brandon said as Dana shuffled toward him.

  “Survive the Wolf?” Dana sat next to him and let out a puff of laughter. “I’m focused on recovering from the past four days.”

  He knew how she felt. The last of the new trainees had left the ranch an hour ago. It had gone extremely well. Each of the four retreats they’d done over the past year had brought great freedom and healing to the men and women who had come, and this one was no different. But the training left him feeling like an air mattress after all the air had been expelled.

  He turned from his view of the river below and lifted his hand to block the late afternoon sun flowing around Dana and into his eyes. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, light brown hair pulled back and tied up with a red scrunchie. No makeup. No need for it. She was beautiful.

  “I agree.” Brandon stared at her eyes, hoping she would turn and look into his. “It’s exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.”

  The sound of the river soothed him as if God were washing away the dirt that seemed to cling to his soul after every training session was over and the new recruits had gone home. Reece said the enemy tried to spread fear and sin to them like a virus from the people they were training and setting free, so there needed to be a time of restoration and refreshment. Brandon didn’t understand the theology behind the statement, but he did know he felt like he needed time to detox every time after they were done and it seemed Dana felt the same.

  He turned and looked at Dana again till she returned his gaze. “Do you ever wish you could go back to the way your life was before Well Spring?”

  She shifted and drew her finger along the pine needles they sat on. “Yes and no. Do I wish we weren’t the ones leading the charge into a battle that probably won’t end till we die? Yes. Do I wish I could slip back into the chains I wore before coming here a year ago? Not a chance. What about you?”

  “Same. But there are some things I’d like to go back and do differently.”

  “Such as?”

  Maybe someday he’d tell her. Not now. It would still be a long time before he stepped into that rowboat. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t explore the condition of the oars.

  “How’s Perry?”

  Dana picked at a spot of pitch on her hand. “Are we going to get into this again?”

  “Not at all.” Brandon raised his palms in surrender. “I’m genuinely asking.”

  She frowned. “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Hey, don’t believe me. It’s fine.” Brandon watched a leaf move from as far up the river as he could see till it disappeared downstream before he spoke again. “Are you worried about Reece? Do you think he’ll be okay, that he’ll make it through this?”

  “He’s probably good.”

  “You think so? It helps to hear you say that, because to get his sight back, then come out and discover he didn’t get healed. Wow.”

  “Perry is probably good. Once I told him there was no chance of anything more between us than friends, he stopped calling.”

  “What?” Brandon turned and grinned. “Sorry, I thought you were answering my question about—”

  “I know.” She offered him a rare smile and her green eyes danced like they used to in the age when they’d been together. “I figured that out.”

  “Sorry, I just—”

  “I’m teasing.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Yes, I’m worried about him.”

  “Why are you worried about Perry?”

  “No, I’m not, I’m worried about—”

  Brandon grinned. “Now I get to say I knew that.”

  They both laughed and leaned into each other, and as they did a shot of adrenaline surged through Brandon. Instantly it felt like it was four years earlier and his engagement ring was still on Dana’s finger, and his resolve not to ask the question till ages had passed melted away. He stared at her till Dana met his gaze.

  “I know I’m asking again. The question I’m not supposed to, but do you ever think about us? What might have been if I hadn’t . . . ?”

  She dropped her gaze to the ground, then raised it to once again look at the river. “Let’s walk, okay?”

  “Where?” They stood and dusted off their jeans.

  Dana pointed west and they started out on the trail that led toward the cabins.

  “That’s what you’d do differently, isn’t it?” She kicked at sticks and pinecones as they shuffled along the trail leading past the cabins toward the zip lines and ropes course. A team of workers had installed it last fall so students could learn to conquer physical fears in order to face spiritual fears. Reece hadn’t talked about putting in a strip of burning coals. Yet.

  The silence between them stretched and Brandon let the subject drop. “Tell me what you’re thinking about Reece.”

  Dana stopped, put her hands on her hips, and laughed. “I’m impressed. We’re having a fairly digressive conversation and yet you never lost any of the threads.”

  “As you might suspect, I’ve bumped into a few women over the course of my life, so I’ve had practice.”

  She frowned at him playfully. “You’re saying women often can’t talk in a straight line?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  Dana laughed and walked on. “Yes, of course I’m worried. As mature as Reece is in the faith, you can’t lose your sight and your greatest passion, think you’ve been healed and find out you haven’t, and not have it tear at your mind and push you into decisions you wouldn’t have made before.”

  “Have you talked to Doug?”

  “A little bit the other night.”

  “Did he have any insight?” Brandon blinked. “Sorry, wrong word.”

  “Not really, just to pray.”

  “You know, we could go crazy and pray for him right now.”

  She smiled. “Let’s go crazy.”

  They settled down in a small grove of alder trees just past the ropes course and slipped into silence. They’d prayed so often together over the past eleven months neither needed either to start or even pray out loud. After five or so minutes, Brandon opened his eyes and gazed at Dana till she opened hers.

  “What did you get? Anything?”

  Dana nodded, her eyes wider than normal.

  “I’m not liking the look on your face.”

  “I kept getting this feeling of imminent danger and a picture of a hockey team.”

  “A what?”

  “I know, I’ve never even been to a hockey game and couldn’t tell you one team name, but I had a clear picture of one, their uniforms, the colors. I could almost hear the scrape of their blad
es on the ice, their streaking toward the other team’s goal. It was vivid.”

  “The hockey team was in danger?”

  “No, not them, but they had something to do with the danger or were the cause of the danger.”

  “Wow. Left of left field.”

  “Yeah, I know. What about you? Anything?”

  “Nothing.” Brandon shrugged. “Except an image of something white.”

  “What was the something?”

  “I don’t know. It was white. That was it.”

  “Like ice? Were you seeing the hockey rink?”

  “Sure. Maybe. I have no clue.” Brandon glanced at his watch. “We should go. We’re supposed to be meeting with Reece and Marcus and Doug in a few minutes. Final debrief before we get ready to head home.”

  They both rose and ambled back toward the main cabin, listening to a lark bunting warble out an afternoon song. Dana glanced at him, then turned her gaze to a blue sky speckled with wispy clouds.

  “I’m not trying to avoid the question. I just don’t know how to answer it.”

  “You mean the ‘do you think about us’ question?”

  “Once again, I’m impressed.”

  “You don’t have an answer, or you don’t want to give it to me?”

  “I have an answer, but not one I’m ready to speak out loud.”

  “How often?”

  “What?”

  “How often do you think about us?”

  “That’s a different question, Brandon.”

  “Yes.”

  “With work and Warriors Riding and the healing still going on inside me . . . I try not to think about how often I think about us, or what we used to be.”

  They walked the rest of the way back to the main cabin in silence. She hadn’t given him an answer, yet at the same time she had. She did think about the two of them. How often? It didn’t matter. The two of them came into her mind—and for the moment it was enough to say.

  When Dana reached for the doorknob, Brandon put his hand on top of hers and stopped her from opening it. “Dana, I—”

  “Don’t ask me about it anymore, okay?” She smiled but her eyes were full of sorrow. “I think about us, yes, but that life is over and I don’t see it ever returning. That part of my heart is gone. I’m sorry if that’s hard to hear, but you and I happened in another age.” Dana sighed and lifted his hand off of hers. “We should get inside. Reece and Marcus are probably wondering where we are.”

  She turned the knob and stepped into the cabin. He waited for her to look back, to give him another sad smile or a glance that said she didn’t truly mean what she’d said, but all he saw was the back of her head as she strolled into the cabin and turned the corner into the living room.

  “Hey.”

  The sound of Dana’s voice filled the main room of the cabin along with the clop of her shoes on the heated hardwood floor. Then Reece heard another pair of shoes. Had to be Brandon since the professor and Doug already sat around the fireplace.

  “Glad you two are back. I want to talk about our plan for going after the Wolf. Find out what we’ve all heard from the Spirit. See how and where Jesus wants to take us next.”

  Reece heard Brandon and Dana take seats across from each other and a slow sigh from Brandon.

  “How is the Song today?”

  “He’s doing awesome.”

  But Brandon wasn’t good. His voice betrayed him. Interesting that although Reece could no longer see body language, his sense of hearing had been so heightened he could gauge people’s emotional state by the slightest nuance in their tone of voice.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yup. I’m sure.”

  It had to be something going on with Dana. Or the lack of something going on. Even though Brandon rarely discussed Dana with him, it was clear to anyone with a modicum of perception that the musician still loved her. It was also clear she either didn’t feel the same or was refusing to let her feelings surface.

  Reece shook his head. No time to think about that now. They needed to move on to the Wolf. “Who wants to start?”

  The tap of a pen on a notebook came from Reece’s left. Marcus getting ready to speak.

  “The impression I received was we were to take our first step by going right to the source.”

  Reece smiled. He’d gotten the same feeling. “You mean engage Carson directly?”

  “Precisely.” Marcus’s tapping increased. “But I don’t mean confront him. I mean watch him in action, get a sense for what surrounds him spiritually. Do a reconnaissance mission.”

  “I agree, but how do you suggest we do that? I doubt Carson has any idea who we are, and he’s not going to invite someone he doesn’t know to drop by for coffee and donuts.”

  Reece heard someone shift position on the couch. “Easy,” Dana said.

  “How so?” Reece cocked his head in her direction.

  “Have Brandon go on his show.”

  Reece laughed. “Of course.” Given Brandon’s level of fame, Carson had to know who the musician was. “Does he interview musicians?”

  “Often,” Dana said.

  “I don’t do interviews.” From the sound of Brandon’s voice and the scrape of his clothes against his chair, it was apparent the Song had stood and turned his back to the group.

  “Why is that?” Reece said.

  “I haven’t done one in over four years.”

  Dana scoffed, “Is that part of your branding? You want to stay mysterious to your fans?”

  Reece heard Brandon’s feet shuffling back and forth over the cabin floor. Finally his feet stopped and it sounded like he turned. “But if the rest of you think this is what the Spirit is saying, I’m in.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  SOOZ STOOD IN CARSON TANNER’S DOORWAY LATE MONDAY afternoon, grinning like the Cheshire cat and bouncing on her toes double time.

  “That’s a good news smile.” He rose and sauntered over to her. “No, that’s a great news smile.”

  “You’re not going to believe this.” She pointed toward the heavens.

  “I believe, help my unbelief.”

  “Guess who just called me?”

  “The only person I can’t believe would ever call you is Brandon Scott.”

  “He asked if he could come on your show.”

  “Unreal. God comes through.”

  “I’ve booked him for June fourteenth. And get this. We’re not talking a phone interview. We’re talking he’s going to be in town to see his label so he wants to come to the studio.”

  Carson shook his head and sniffed out a laugh. “Just making sure I heard you correctly here. He called you. Not his manager. Him. Asking to be on my show. Plus he wants to come into the studio? Here? In person?” He bent down and pounded the floor with his fist.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” Carson rose up. “Please tell me what changed.”

  “No idea.”

  “I have an idea.” He grinned at Sooz. “God is most definitely on the move.”

  She nodded and laughed.

  Carson lurched back around his desk and sat, his hands moving like a windmill. “We’re going to promote the garbanzo beans out of this. I want a new audio stinger, thirty-second promos running four times an hour every day till the interview, notices on all our social media sites, the blog, and at least three e-mail blasts to our subscribers. We’re going to have the biggest audience we’ve had in eons. And Brandon and what the enemy is doing through him and his buddies will be hit like a fleet of Mack trucks.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  LATE AFTERNOON ON SATURDAY KEVIN KAISON STOOD backstage at Marymoor Park, trying to keep his legs from bouncing. Why did he tell Brandon yes? This was too much. Sure, he wanted to do the concert. But unless his nerves quieted, he’d be so amped up and nervous his voice would make a soprano sound like a bass.

  He rubbed his hands together. Both were damp with perspiration. His hands would slide all over his guitar—and he didn’t play slide guitar.
His mouth ached. He didn’t realize he was clenching his teeth till the pain worked its way up into his jaw. He was a basket case.

  Kevin slumped onto a stool, closed his eyes, and laid two fingers across his wrist. Wow. Relax. How could his heart race with Indianapolis 500 speed when all he was doing was sitting?

  By seven the crowd started ambling in over the expansive grass of the venue and picked spots to lay their blankets or set up their red and blue and green folding chairs. And it was a crowd. He’d hoped for three hundred people to show up; he’d expected a hundred. He glanced at his watch. Still an hour till showtime and there had to be at least seven hundred people already through the gates.

  They knew Brandon wasn’t playing, right? Then again, reducing the ticket price by half might have something to do with people still turning out. But still, who would want to see Brandon Scott’s manager? Yeah, Kevin had a hit song, but that was hit song, singular. Did they really want to plunk down hard cash to see some guy they’d barely heard of?

  Anthony, who wasn’t much thicker than a javelin, sauntered up to him as he sucked on a milk shake Kevin surmised was his usual concoction of ice cream, butterscotch, and a healthy dose of wheat germ.

  “Looks like you’ve got a decent crowd shuffling in.”

  “Yeah, a few anyway.”

  “Nice guerilla marketing move, K2.” Anthony took a big gulp of his shake.

  “What move?”

  “Sending everyone who bought a ticket an MP3 of your soon-to-be-released next song.” He wiggled his forefinger at the crowd. “Looks like a few of them liked it.”

  “I didn’t . . .”

  Brandon. He must have sent the song out to the list. “They heard my next song.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Kevin grabbed his phone and called Brandon. He picked up on the second ring. “You sent out my second song?”

  “Did it work?” A light chuckle floated through the phone.

  “Yeah, I think it worked.” Kevin snaked through the stack of amps at the back of the stage and settled into a chair next to his guitar.