When Snowflakes Never Cease (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Even though she knew she didn’t have the jacket and had already vainly searched for it a dozen times, that didn’t stop her from one last search through her backpack for her jacket, gum, or anything else to help her cope. Of course, her search proved fruitless on all counts, and still, she felt Carter studying her, dissecting her every emotion and criticizing her shortcomings in this situation and life in general.

  “I need to use the restroom,” she announced, hastily getting to her feet and hurrying away before her control crumbled completely for Carter’s viewing pleasure.

  Please, Lord! She prayed, desperate for any relief. But her thoughts churned over each other so fiercely that she couldn’t extract any actual words beyond the “please.”

  What if God didn’t give Allie the miracle Geneva still desperately prayed for?

  What if that latest hospice report was accurate, indicating that Allie’s time on earth was down to days and not weeks?

  What if Geneva couldn’t find Allie’s daddy?

  What if after all of her wild goose chasing, she had to return to Crossroads empty-handed and force herself to tell Allie that her dying wish would go unfulfilled?

  Situated at the base of all of the deafening, swirling questions and “what ifs” was the stark fear that Geneva wouldn’t be enough. Fear that she wouldn’t be enough to save Allie or even to give a little girl the last thing she wanted in life. And fear that she wouldn’t be able to handle it if she failed in those first things. She needed to save Allie in every sense. If she didn’t, she was quite certain that the “great Geneva Hutchins” couldn’t survive either. Everything about who she was—her determination, work ethic, her skill as a physician, her faith in a God of miracles whose words could heal in ways medicine could never achieve—wrapped itself around saving Allie.

  Geneva found a restroom and hurried inside, trying to calm herself with deep breaths. A glance in the mirror proved to be a mistake, and her chin trembled as she recognized that the pale face and fear-sparked dark blue eyes betrayed a very tenuous hold on her fragile emotions.

  She breathed in. And out. She focused on the harsh fluorescent lights as they glared off the chrome faucet of the sink below her.

  Come on, Geneva. You are a professional. Get a grip.

  Then she bravely lifted her head up and looked at herself in the mirror again, willing the pain to recede into an impassive mask.

  “Are you ok?”

  The tentative question did what Geneva’s mighty willpower could not. The tense lines in her face instantly relaxed as her mask immediately snapped back in place. She turned to the voice with a casual smile gracing her lips. “Yes. It’s just a delayed flight. I’m fine.”

  The petite, young woman looked unsure. She’d seen too much, and Geneva’s quick recovery couldn’t quite fool her.

  “What about you?” Geneva asked. “Are you waiting for a flight? Hopefully, mechanical difficulties aren’t contagious around here!”

  There you go! Geneva congratulated herself. The way to get out of a personal conversation was to shrug off any questions and turn the spotlight back on the person asking. After all, she didn’t mind other people sharing personal information. She just didn’t want to be the one sharing.

  “No, so far, my flight is on time,” the woman replied. “I’m just on a layover.”

  “Where are you headed?” Geneva asked casually, not wanting to allow any empty space that could be filled with questions directed at her.

  “Alaska.”

  “Really? I’ve always wanted to go there, but I probably wouldn’t choose this time of year to do it! I’ve heard the winters can be brutal. Is that where you’re from?”

  The woman was young, and Geneva pegged her as a college student returning home for the holidays. However, she didn’t look like an Alaska native. She was pretty, petite, and her clothes didn’t quite look like they expected to soon meet frigid temperatures.

  The woman laughed lightly. “No, not at all. I’m from California. Well, not originally, but that’s where I’ve been the last couple years. I’m going to Alaska to meet my boyfriend. Or at least, the guy I hope will be my boyfriend. I’m not sure if you can officially give someone that title if you’ve never really met him in person.”

  Red flags sounded sirens in Geneva’s mind. Even though her tone seemed light and fun, as if her story was just an amusing adventure, Geneva couldn’t quite pass everything off that easily. “Wait a minute. You’re flying to Alaska to meet a guy you don’t know?”

  “I know him,” the woman assured. “We met online and have talked a lot. He lives in a remote part of Alaska, so it isn’t like we could go on a date somewhere. I’m flying there so we can finally meet.”

  “Um… are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean flying to remote Alaska in winter to meet a guy you only know from online seems pretty risky.” Geneva really thought all of this was “What Not to Do 101,” but she held herself back from adding that comment, not wanting to offend the bright-eyed hopeful. Instead of questioning her sanity, Geneva contented herself with throwing out, “Plus, I thought I heard that while the rest of the nation is pretty dry, huge storms are gathering in Alaska.”

  “No worries. We met on a Christian site that does extensive background checks, and I love the snow! Don’t worry, I came prepared!” she lifted up her full backpack as evidence. “Hey, we have the same backpack!”

  Geneva looked down and realized she was right. The bag in the woman’s hand looked like an exact match to the one sitting at Geneva’s feet. However, the other woman’s backpack looked like it held twice as much as Geneva’s with every inch tightly packed.

  “I’m Cossette, by the way,” the woman said as she reached inside her bag, either searching for something or rearranging the contents. Geneva reached down in her own bag and pulled out a brush and some powder to try to do some repair work before facing Carter again.

  “I’m Geneva,” she returned.

  Cossette looked her up and down. “So, are you on a business trip, or maybe you’re off to meet your boyfriend as well?”

  Drat! Back to the personal questions.

  “Neither,” Geneva said, deciding that the next best approach was to be blunt. “I’m trying to find the father of a child who is dying of cancer. She wants to say goodbye.”

  Geneva watched shock paint Cossette’s face white. She’d pulled out some kind of book from her backpack, but at Geneva’s words, the book tipped from her fingers and fell back down.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! No wonder you were upset!” Cossette looked at Geneva with such concern that Geneva was struck by what a sweet person she was. After all, not everyone would even stop to talk to a stranger who looked upset in an airport restroom. Yet, Geneva felt sure that Cossette’s concern mirrored in Geneva’s gaze and directed right back to the young woman’s situation.

  Geneva shrugged. “It’s just a delayed flight. It will be okay. I’m heading to sunny California, not Alaska.” Geneva reached down for her backpack, sliding her brush and powder back inside and zipping it up. “I’ll say a prayer for you, Cossette, but make sure you take care. Sometimes things don’t happen the way we want, and meeting a stranger in Alaska sounds like it could be one of those things.”

  Geneva walked out of the restroom, realizing that she’d likely never know what happened to Cossette. However, before her own worries could come crowding in once again, true to her word, she prayed for the petite stranger in a random airport restroom who had cared enough to ask if she was okay.

  Geneva slid back into the vinyl chair beside Carter as if nothing had happened. He immediately turned his searching gaze back on her.

  All of the emotions she had just conquered immediately threatened to surface again. He could see through her, and she felt that all her thoughts and fears must be laid out for him as if in a full-spread National Geographic magazine.

  “Can you please stop staring?” Geneva finally hissed, unable to take any more. “Just leave me alone!”

&
nbsp; Carter straightened in his seat, reached out, and snatched her hand in his.

  Then he bowed his head.

  “Lord, please help us. We don’t know if we’re headed the right direction, and time seems short for Allie. Both Geneva and I feel the pressure. However, as much as we love and care for Allie, I know you love her more. We still want You to heal her outright and give us many more years with her. But if that’s not Your plan, let us find Jimmy so he can say goodbye. Hold Allie close, ease her pain, and comfort all of us who love her. Above all, keep our hearts steady through this and bring something of value from what we are walking through now. In Jesus' name. Amen.”

  Geneva wasn’t a crier, but if she had been, she would have let the tears flow instead of stifling their burning demands and swallowing them down her constricting throat.

  Carter didn’t take his hand away from hers, and she didn’t object. She drew comfort out of the contact. After being accustomed to depending only on herself, it was a new sensation to allow herself to accept something from someone else. Besides, she liked holding Carter’s hand and feeling her own swallowed up in the warm strength of his. As much as she despised and resented him, she recognized he’d just done what she couldn’t. He’d found the words to pray over her when she didn’t have the strength to do it herself. If only for a fleeting moment, with their hands holding tightly, Geneva felt loved.

  “No, no, no!” Geneva spun around the empty warehouse, her voice echoing through the open space.

  “There’s nothing here!” Carter's voice cracked with shock and disappointment.

  After finally making it to L.A. in the early morning hours, they had found a hotel and slept. While reluctant to take time out of their search, they had both passed the point of being able to function. Still not fully rested, they dragged themselves up after a few hours, found some food, and took off in search of the address for the construction company where Jimmy supposedly worked.

  The lack of vehicles around the lot was the first clue that something was wrong. Geneva kept her concerns to herself while Carter parked the rental. Then she saw the large real estate sign positioned out front and advertising the building as for sale.

  “This is it, right?” Carter asked, checking the written address with the numbers along the roofline.

  Feeling a dreaded sense of dèjá vu, Geneva nodded. “At least we aren’t at a cemetery this time.”

  Refusing to believe their efforts as vain, they doggedly approached the building entrance. The sign for Normand Brothers Construction still graced the warehouse, offering hope that they really were in the right location.

  “Geneva, no one is here,” Carter whispered as if the walls of the building could hear their trespassing.

  Geneva reached out her fingers to the handle of the door labeled as the office. The smooth metal beneath her hand twisted, and the door opened inward. They stepped inside to a room with sparse furnishings. A few functional, plastic chairs stood around one wall with a counter marking the reception area. Finding no one, they headed to the door on the left and stepped through into a large, vacant warehouse.

  With those few steps echoing through the cavern, the empty room now vacuumed up all of Geneva’s hope.

  “Can I help you?” a voice came from the office they’d just exited.

  They startled at the unexpected sound and turned to find a short man with a red mustache and a cowboy hat topped over what Geneva suspected was a head of equally red hair. He stalked toward them, his legs moving stiffly as if he’d just made a long journey on a horse.

  Yosemite Sam. Geneva thought, immediately deciding that the man was the perfect doppelganger for the Looney Toons cartoon character.

  “We’re looking for Normand Brothers Construction,” Carter quickly explained. “Have they moved to a different location?”

  “Yes, they have,” the man answered firmly. “At least, I think going out of business qualifies as a different location. They don’t exist anymore. I just bought the building for my own business.”

  “You mean, there’s no way to find them?” Carter asked, clearly appalled.

  “Can’t find something that isn’t there.”

  “Are you a construction company, too?” Geneva asked, her mind desperately trying to find any angle that might offer them something useful. “Did you take over their client list?”

  The man laughed harshly. “Hardly. We make cabinets. Don’t have nothin’ to do with the brand of construction Normand did.”

  “And what brand was that?” Carter asked.

  “Shoddy,” the man’s long mustache twitched in emphasis. “Cheap builders whose work falls apart the day after any warranty is up. You get what you pay for. The rumor was the company went under because of all the lawsuits. They went under and sold all their assets to settle everything out of court. Then they went bankrupt.”

  “We really need to know how to find the owner of Normand Brothers,” Carter persisted.

  “Can’t help you there. If you got took by them, you’d better take it up with the police and get in line. It wouldn’t surprise me if Normand skipped town and can’t be found. There’s lots of folks after his head around here.”

  “No, we’re just trying to locate one of his employees,” Geneva clarified.

  The man’s laughter came out in a bark. “That’s a harder task than finding Normand himself! You might as well head to the ocean, scoop up a bucket of water, and hope you manage to catch a shark inside!”

  Carter’s eyes narrowed, and Geneva could tell that he was irritated. “Thanks for your help,” he said politely. Then he gestured for Geneva to lead the way out. Obviously, talking any further to Yosemite Sam was as fruitless as the cartoon character’s vendetta against Bugs Bunny.

  What are we going to do?

  Geneva didn’t voice the question out loud because it would way too accurately reveal the desperation and panic she felt as they left the building. Instead, it sang on repeat through her mind as her gaze swung to and fro as if searching for archaeological clues that might lead them to the former inhabitant of the property.

  “Do you think we should check with the police?” Carter asked quietly as they left the building. “If Normand Brothers is in trouble, they should have an address, right?”

  His question was a relief to Geneva. He wasn’t giving up. But the police route seemed a long shot. There had to be some other way to find Normand.

  Her gaze landed on the real estate sign, and a sudden hole glimmered in their dead end.

  “The police won’t give us any info, especially if it isn’t part of public records yet. But what about her?” She pointed to the corner of the real estate sign that boasted a small picture of a woman.

  “Ronni Carlisle? The realtor?” Carter asked, his confused eyes fixed on the sign.

  “Yes. The new owner said Normand sold everything. If he was the seller, then Ronni would be the one representing him. She should know where we could find him.”

  “Geneva, that’s brilliant!” Carter took out his phone and immediately dialed the large numbers on the sign.

  Geneva listened as Carter waited and finally left a voice message requesting that Ms. Carlisle call him back.

  “I think she’s probably gone for the day,” he admitted after ending the call.

  “That means we won’t hear from her until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

  “I’ll call first thing and then pester her with calls every ten minutes until she gives up and answers,” Carter promised.

  “In the meantime, that means another day when we haven’t located Jimmy and another day gone for Allie.” Even though they had more hope than two minutes ago, it wasn’t enough to dispel reality.

  “When we get back to the hotel, I’ll call for an update,” Carter assured. “If you think about it too much, the pressure will drive you crazy. We need to trust that God knows what He’s doing and that His timing is perfect.”

  Geneva simply nodded dutifully and got in the car, not even
bothering to insist on driving. For some reason, her mind drifted back to Arlene’s house and the clocks. The incessant ticking played through her head as if she actually heard it once again, each tick reminding her that it was one less second in a very limited supply for Allie.

  As Carter pulled away from the warehouse, Geneva spotted Yosemite Sam out front pulling up the large real estate sign and claiming his new property as his own. Somehow, watching him fueled her dwindling hope just a little, and she wondered about Carter’s words describing God’s timing. After all, right in front of her was concrete evidence that if they had pondered the front of the building five minutes later, Ronni’s name and number would have been gone forever.

  “Thank you for meeting with us,” Geneva said warmly after shaking Ronni Carlisle’s hand and taking a seat across the desk from the realtor.

  “Certainly! Now what kind of building are you two kids interested in? Tell me about your business,” she said, swiftly getting down to discussing her commercial real estate specialty.

  Geneva shot Carter a wary look. Between last night and today, they decided to ask for an appointment to meet with Ronni but not actually tell her what it regarded until they got there. Neither of them knew the legalities or ethics involved with a realtor giving someone contact information for one of their clients, but they were more than a little concerned that Ronni might not prove cooperative. While telling someone “no” over the phone might be easy, giving that same “no” in person after that someone told you a sob story that would thaw the iciest of hearts might prove a little more difficult.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Carlisle, but we aren’t here as clients,” Carter confessed honestly. “Yesterday, we went by the property formally owned by Normand Brothers Construction. We understand Mr. Normand was one of your clients and hope you can tell us how to contact him.”

  “I’m sorry, that isn’t possible.” Ronni stood, clearly signally the meeting was done even before it really started. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to attend to.”