see some drastic action. If you want this as bad as you say you do, you have to fight for it. It’s time to show a new dimension.”
“The only thing that’s going to save you is one heck of a Hail Mary.” Lauren gathered her briefcase and stood. “So find us one.”
“ . . . word today that eye witnesses have come forward. They claim to have information about NBC reporter Ben Hayes and CNN’s own Will Sinclair, brother of former Warriors quarterback Alex Sinclair .”
Lucy dropped the pen in her lap as the TV caught her attention. Details of the breaking news filled her living room.
“ One Durnama native told investigators he saw only one man pulled out alive from the school before being taken in an unmarked van. This is the same school Will Sinclair helped establish, bombed in a terror attack when insurgents stormed the village. And so the search now continues in what might be a hostage situation. Back to you, Anderson .”
That poor Sinclair family. No matter how much they had left Lucy high and dry, she would never wish this kind of pain on them. Closing her eyes, Lucy said a prayer for the missing reporters. For the families who had lost children. And even for Alex Sinclair.
And for herself.
Because as her eyes opened and returned to the list on her laptop, she crossed off her last potential donor. At this point, Saving Grace had mere months left of funding.
Running a hand over her face, Lucy could feel the puffiness in her eyes. She had avoided the mirror all day, but she knew what she’d see there. Bloated eyeballs that made her look as if she had spent the entire evening chugging pints and searching for a lampshade to pull over her head. Her night had been far less glamorous. She had tossed and turned in her bed, until finally she had gotten up before the sun to spend a few hours facedown on her carpet, praying.
Where she had fallen asleep. And had the carpet imprints to prove it.
In front of her, a Bible sat open on the coffee table, the ribbon marker lying across a page of Romans.
We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to His purpose.
Well, there were definitely things going on, but she sure couldn’t see any good in them.
The knock on her door momentarily pulled her out of her misery. Checking the clock on the microwave, she managed a smile. Matt had arrived. Punctual as ever.
If there was any bright spot in her week, it was this man. He had been auditing hotels on the West Coast, but he had called her every day since the gala. And tonight they were finally going to have that talk. She knew he was waiting on a decision from her about picking up where they’d left off. Still, something in her held back. No doubt it was fear of being hurt again. But so far there were no signs she had anything to worry about with the new and improved Matt.
Reaching her fingers into her hair, she tousled the curls, hoping to give the limp locks a boost. I really think I’m ready for this, God. Finally, a home of my own .
Lucy opened the door. And smiled.
“Flower delivery.”
And there he was, standing in her doorway, a bouquet of roses so big, she couldn’t see his face. But she had his every feature memorized anyway. At one time had planned on seeing it for the rest of her life. And now that he was there on her front stoop, she was nervous as a sixteen-year-old on her first date.
“They’re beautiful,” Lucy said.
Matt held them out to her, then kissed her cheek. “So are you.”
She quickly put the flowers in a vase in the kitchen and then joined him in the living room.
“You look tired.” His face was etched with concern as he sat down on her couch.
Lucy sat next to him, twisting her hands in her lap. “Monday I have to tell my girls that we’re moving at the end of September.” The numbers just weren’t there. And no amount of begging for donations had increased the bottom line nearly enough.
“Aw, Luce.” Matt
“The only thing that’s going to save you is one heck of a Hail Mary.” Lauren gathered her briefcase and stood. “So find us one.”
“ . . . word today that eye witnesses have come forward. They claim to have information about NBC reporter Ben Hayes and CNN’s own Will Sinclair, brother of former Warriors quarterback Alex Sinclair .”
Lucy dropped the pen in her lap as the TV caught her attention. Details of the breaking news filled her living room.
“ One Durnama native told investigators he saw only one man pulled out alive from the school before being taken in an unmarked van. This is the same school Will Sinclair helped establish, bombed in a terror attack when insurgents stormed the village. And so the search now continues in what might be a hostage situation. Back to you, Anderson .”
That poor Sinclair family. No matter how much they had left Lucy high and dry, she would never wish this kind of pain on them. Closing her eyes, Lucy said a prayer for the missing reporters. For the families who had lost children. And even for Alex Sinclair.
And for herself.
Because as her eyes opened and returned to the list on her laptop, she crossed off her last potential donor. At this point, Saving Grace had mere months left of funding.
Running a hand over her face, Lucy could feel the puffiness in her eyes. She had avoided the mirror all day, but she knew what she’d see there. Bloated eyeballs that made her look as if she had spent the entire evening chugging pints and searching for a lampshade to pull over her head. Her night had been far less glamorous. She had tossed and turned in her bed, until finally she had gotten up before the sun to spend a few hours facedown on her carpet, praying.
Where she had fallen asleep. And had the carpet imprints to prove it.
In front of her, a Bible sat open on the coffee table, the ribbon marker lying across a page of Romans.
We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God: those who are called according to His purpose.
Well, there were definitely things going on, but she sure couldn’t see any good in them.
The knock on her door momentarily pulled her out of her misery. Checking the clock on the microwave, she managed a smile. Matt had arrived. Punctual as ever.
If there was any bright spot in her week, it was this man. He had been auditing hotels on the West Coast, but he had called her every day since the gala. And tonight they were finally going to have that talk. She knew he was waiting on a decision from her about picking up where they’d left off. Still, something in her held back. No doubt it was fear of being hurt again. But so far there were no signs she had anything to worry about with the new and improved Matt.
Reaching her fingers into her hair, she tousled the curls, hoping to give the limp locks a boost. I really think I’m ready for this, God. Finally, a home of my own .
Lucy opened the door. And smiled.
“Flower delivery.”
And there he was, standing in her doorway, a bouquet of roses so big, she couldn’t see his face. But she had his every feature memorized anyway. At one time had planned on seeing it for the rest of her life. And now that he was there on her front stoop, she was nervous as a sixteen-year-old on her first date.
“They’re beautiful,” Lucy said.
Matt held them out to her, then kissed her cheek. “So are you.”
She quickly put the flowers in a vase in the kitchen and then joined him in the living room.
“You look tired.” His face was etched with concern as he sat down on her couch.
Lucy sat next to him, twisting her hands in her lap. “Monday I have to tell my girls that we’re moving at the end of September.” The numbers just weren’t there. And no amount of begging for donations had increased the bottom line nearly enough.
“Aw, Luce.” Matt
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