“No, she died last year.”
“I’m so sorry, Mark. How? If I’m allowed to ask.”
“Of course you are, Elizabeth. It was a heart attack. Doctor said it was big and probably quick.”
Elizabeth was respectfully silent for a full minute before asking, “You’ve been to the house?”
“A few times, yes. I had to come to help clear some things out of it, like food, garbage, and the like. Had to turn off everything that used electricity, except for the fridge. Can’t have that appliance smelling up the place the next time it’s opened. Then I had to come back to meet with a realtor about selling it.”
“That’s sad.”
“It is what it is, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess. Still sad, though.”
She turned her head to look out her window. The sun, ahead of them as they drove northwest, was making it difficult for either of them to continue facing forward.
She looked at him again. “Why go back now?”
“Two reasons, I guess. One, where I want to take you is nearby—maybe in that next town over you mentioned—so I thought we may as well stop. Two, there’s still a lot of her stuff there. The realtor is still waiting on me to remove the contents. Not an easy thing for me to do right now.”
“I can only imagine.”
“You’ll be impressed, though. You’ll see how I ended up getting the shutter bug.”
“Your mom was a photographer?”
“Yep. She sure was. A good one, too. Old school.”
“Film?”
“Film.”
“You know what? I’m actually looking forward to seeing it!”
Risk abated.
TARA APOLOGIZED TO everyone for the scene in the kitchen. However, she was glad for the cry. The intensity of it had ultimately helped her relax, providing her with more clarity of thought.
Tara, Brent, Jenna, Jamie, and Amy had gathered in the living room to talk things through. Everyone needed to be on the same page about what may be coming.
Tara had approved of Brent’s plan to give Amy a small explanation of what they would be talking about so she wouldn’t become afraid if she overheard something too intense. Afterward, they’d either turn her over to her sketch books or allow her to dominate the television as a distraction.
“Amy, do you remember way back when things got pretty scary in the house and I had to go to the hospital?”
“Yeah. I remember Mom’s friend sort of broke your ribs and the doctor said you had to cough a lot. I didn’t like seeing you hurt.”
The four older Lawtons nodded in unison.
“Yeah, I didn’t like it much either. We went to a restaurant afterward and talked. Do you remember that too?”
She drew her lips to one side in concentration, then shook her head.
Jenna said, “You don’t remember talking about the story of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?”
“Oh, yeah!” she exclaimed. “Now I remember! We talked about Aslan. But we were really talking about Jesus.”
“Exactly,” said Brent. “We talked about how powerful he is. But we also talked about bad guys and bad angels and things like that.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t like that part much.”
“I know, sweetie. We didn’t like it either, but everything worked out just fine for all of us, right?”
“Yeah.…”
Amy gave them a sideways glance. Brent could see that she didn’t like where the conversation was headed.
“Well, Mom, Jamie, Jenna, and I need to have another conversation about that kind of stuff. Are you okay if we let you do your own thing while we talk? Maybe watch TV or work on your drawings?”
Amy’s eyes widened a little bit. She looked from person to person. She swallowed hard before asking, “Is everything okay?”
Tara answered. “We hope so, honey.”
“Is it Elizabeth?”
“A little bit. But don’t worry. We’re just going to be talking about some things that happened in the past. We’re not talking about anything happening right now.”
Amy visibly relaxed. “Good. Okay, I’ll draw.”
With that, Amy happily planted herself in the far recliner and began putting her creativity to work.
Brent and the others settled around the sofa and turned their attention to what had just occurred in the kitchen with Tara. They sat close together to keep the more distressing parts of their conversation away from Amy’s ears, with Jamie and Jenna sat on the couch and Tara at the corner of the coffee table. Brent was ensconced in the recliner in front of the picture window.
“So, does this mean that there’s more stuff from your Kentucky dreams that’s going to come true?” asked Jenna, after her dad had given them a recap of what had brought their mom to her knees in tears.
“We can’t know that for sure. Frankly, I hadn’t thought about the things your mom did tonight. I had suggested that demons and angels may come into play in something we don’t know about yet, but that was just a thought, based on me looking back at the players in my dreams.”
Tara spoke up. “It occurred to me that the Elizabeth in your dad’s dreams had killed herself because she couldn’t think of a way out for her and her baby. She was sure her parents would disown her.”
Jamie was quick to jump in. “But our Eliz—”
“I know. Hold that thought,” interrupted Tara, taking back control. “I know that our Elizabeth didn’t deal with that. She already had a place to go before her parents found out she was pregnant. I think that’s why we were able to set aside the rest of the suicide mess from your dad’s dreams. However, if your dad’s current nightmares are any indication, we might not have seen the demonic attempt on Elizabeth’s life yet.”
“But we can’t know that’s even coming,” Jamie objected.
“You’re right,” Brent said. “We can’t. But we can act preemptively as if we were certain of it. One thing I know, praying about what isn’t going to happen is better than not praying about something that is. Additionally, since we’ve all experienced demonic activity before, we know it’s real. Doing spiritual warfare can’t hurt.”
“So, you’re saying,” added Jenna, “that we should dive into prayer for Elizabeth as if we already know she’s in danger.” It was more of a statement to confirm what he’d said than a question.
“Exactly.”
JAMIE WAS BECOMING unnerved. Was she really going to be in danger? In danger for her life?
“Is there anything that anyone’s seen or heard that may be an indication of troubling times ahead for her?” asked his mom.
They all four looked to each other for an answer.
Jenna shook her head. “I don’t think so. She and I have had conversations about God over the past few days. She’s been receptive, like she’s not really fighting against him anymore.”
Jamie looked at his dad. “And when you said Jason’s name, I think that put a spike in the heart of her atheism.”
His dad couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks for that vivid metaphor. And you’re right.”
“Imagine if she’d been here when you began crying, Mom,” said Jenna. “You think God orchestrated her being out of the house so that we could have this conversation?”
“That, daughter of mine, wouldn’t surprise me one bit. It even sounds as though God may have used her in a friend’s life this evening.”
“So what do we do next?” asked Jamie. “I’d like to push the enemy aside and prevent anything at all happening.”
“I’m with you there, Jamie,” said his dad. “I think that we begin praying right here and now.”
Jamie’s mom wasted no time reaching her hands out to his dad and Jenna. Jamie took Jenna’s hand and reached for his dad’s.
Brent took the lead in the prayer. Jamie was so proud to have a dad who wasn’t ashamed to be real about his Christianity with the family.
The man sure isn
’t weak.
“Father, we come to you, acknowledging who you are in our lives. You are our provider, our protector, our giver of wisdom, and the one who loves us all, without exception. We approach you in your throne room, just as you’ve invited us to do, and we ask for your help.…”
Chapter 59
E
lizabeth thought it was neat how the driveway serpentined from the street through the trees and toward the house.
It wasn’t a very large house, but it was pretty. She appreciated the soft colors Mark’s mom had used on the front of the house, especially the porch.
“It’s nice, Mark.”
“Yeah, not bad. She’d always been artsy.”
Mark stopped the car, withdrew the key, and saw that she was about to open her door.
“No, don’t. Something’s wrong with the handle on the inside.”
She pulled her hand back, not sure what it could be.
He got out of the car, walked around, and opened the door for her. He also reached in with his left hand. She took it and he helped her up and out.
“Oh, wait,” he said. “That’s right. There’s nothing wrong with the inside handle.”
For a quick moment, Elizabeth was confused. Then it struck her. He’d made sure she allowed him to be a gentleman again.
She blushed. “Thank you.”
No one. No one has ever treated me so well.
There was a fleeting thought of Jamie, but she didn’t let it solidify before pushing it aside.
Mark offered his arm. She took it and briefly leaned her head against his shoulder as he began escorting her to the house.
During the half-hour drive, she’d noticed his defenses falling again. His glances at her as he drove became more frequent. She knew that he was at least a little weak in his resistance toward her.
She wasn’t really sure if she should view that as a flaw or as a compliment.
She finally settled on it being a compliment.
They took the steps up onto the porch and Mark flipped through his keys, trying two before he chose the right one for the door.
Opening it, a slight smell of mustiness wafted out. There was something nice about it.
Walking in, she was immediately struck by the picture-lined hallway ahead of them. There was a set of stairs to the left leading upward to the second floor and an entrance to a small living room immediately to the right.
Against the wall on the right, just past the living room entrance, was a pretty curio cabinet filled with cameras and other photography equipment. Elizabeth walked up to it.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding. Were all these cameras used by her?”
“Two of them were. The other three were purchased because the vintage appearance appealed to her.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah, she did just about everything here. She even had a darkroom constructed in the basement.”
“I’d like to see it.”
“Okay, I’ll take you down to see it before we leave.”
Mark made his way down the hall toward what was likely the kitchen. Elizabeth followed slowly. She couldn’t just rush by the photos on the wall.
One photo stood out—a picture of Mark’s mom and him, both of them smiling and holding a camera each.
Elizabeth smiled. They liked each other. Wish I’d had that.
“Elizabeth, come on back. I’ve got something for you.”
With the directive, Elizabeth moseyed toward the rear of the house.
When she made the left turn into the kitchen, she saw Mark holding up two small sports drinks, one red, the other blue.
“Do you want…” He looked at them both. “…blue raspberry or fruit punch?”
She was about to choose when she realized something.
“They’ve got to be pretty old.”
He looked at the use-by dates on the caps.
“Nope. Must have been put in the fridge by the guy who’s keeping up the grounds.”
“Then we’re just going to steal his drinks?”
Mark laughed. “I’m paying him to have them in my house.”
Elizabeth laughed too. “Good point. Raspberry.”
Mark handed it to her, and she twisted off the cap. She could really use a cool drink after having been in the sunlight and warm temperatures for so long.
Both tilted them back and drew gratefully from the bottles.
Lowering his, Mark said, “Thank you for allowing me to bring you here.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Want a little tour?”
“Sure!”
It’s like a mini adventure, coming here!
Elizabeth took another couple of gulps from the bottle and set it down on the counter beside the refrigerator.
Mark walked past her, deliberately rubbing against her shoulder. “Oh, so sorry.”
She giggled. “Oh, sure you are.” Her heartbeat was beginning to pick up.
“Right this way.”
He led her into the dining room to the left side of the hallway as they exited the kitchen, which, for some reason, had been completely partitioned from where meal preparation took place.
Maybe I’m just used to great rooms and kitchen-dining areas.
“I imagine Mom did her eating in here, but there are some TV trays in the living room, so I’m not really sure. I do wish I had come out here to visit more than the few times I had while she was alive.”
Elizabeth approached him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. She hoped her touch could convey what her voice could not.
“To the right, here, was her craft room. She told me once that not every day could be a photo day, so on days when it was too hot, too wet, or too cold, she would spend time in here doing everything from making handmade flowers to painting ceramic…” He shrugged. “…stuff. You can see some pictures of her craftiness on the walls above some of the actual objects.”
Elizabeth entered the room. There was everything from an easel to a table covered with drops of multiple colors of paint to ceramic “stuff.” She walked over to a colorfully painted ceramic frog with a stemmed flower in its mouth. She began to reach for it. Looking back at Mark, she asked, “May I?”
He nodded.
It was weighty in her hands. She turned it around and looked at the detail his mom had put into it. “She was really good! She must have had really steady hands.”
“Look at the photo.”
Elizabeth looked up and saw a photo of her frog next to an honest-to-goodness bullfrog!
“How did she get the two of them in the shot like that?” She was amazed.
Mark laughed.
“I told her I just knew that she had to have drugged the poor thing. But she’d actually caught it under a bucket and brought it into the backyard. She told me that she’d carefully tilted back the bucket until she was able to slip her painted frog underneath with the real one.
“She had a rubber shutter bulb attached to the camera. When she had the camera focused, she kicked the bucket away and quickly snapped the photo. Voilà!”
“She was clever!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “How neat!”
She lingered in the room another minute before turning back to Mark.
“Ready to see upstairs?” he asked.
A mixture of thrill and panic grabbed at her heart with the question. The best she could give was a shy smile and a nod of her head.
What’s going to happen up there? She knew there was at least one bedroom, and she felt uncertain about the walk up the steps.
When they arrived at the foot of the stairs, she hesitated.
“You okay?” Mark asked as he turned on the light.
I can do this, she told herself. Nothing has to happen.
“Nothing has to happen, Elizabeth. It’s okay.”
He’d heard her soul.
Elizabeth looked up the full flight. The walls of the second floor were a bright c
anary yellow with a green patterned border at the top. It looked cheery and inviting, not ominous.
She took a deep breath and let it out quickly. With determination, she began her ascent.
“Nothing has to happen,” she very quietly whispered to herself.
Less than an hour before, she was mentally throwing caution to the wind, her body nearly screaming for Mark’s touch, his kisses … and beyond.
Maybe the house in which she stood was quieting her desires. It was, after all, the house of a dead woman. Even if she was alive, it’d still be the house of Mark’s mom, and that would have been awkward, to say the least.
Maybe she was just realizing the insanity of the age gap. Or maybe she was thinking about there really being a God.
The thought struck her. He was real and alive … and watching her.
Was she disappointing him by being here? Should she have just gone home?
But she wanted to be here. This was something she wanted.
She remembered the diatribe she had hit Jamie with in the parking lot of The First Half restaurant. She’d pounded him with her hatred of how much God demanded and how little he seemed to want to give.
And she was right.
She couldn’t deny his existence, but she could deny him every aspect of her life.
The thought fueled her determination to live life on her own terms. She could consider him later.
She thought about Mark as he walked up the steps behind her. He was being caring by not pressing the issue of getting physical. She could tell that he wanted to, but she could also see that he was trying hard to resist.
Should he have to?
She was still nervous.
When they reached the landing, Mark walked around her, turned toward the right, and started down the hall. Reaching the middle, he waved her forward.
“Four rooms up here, if you count the bathroom. I’ll show you her bedroom first.”
When they walked in, she found that it wasn’t grand; it was simple and tastefully decorated. There was a beautiful white quilt that lay across what looked like a full-size bed. A mirrored hutch sat atop a six-drawer dresser. The back of the room allowed the waning hour of daylight to enter through white lace curtains.
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