her.
“I’m very sorry, Helen.” Bill’s voice sounded strained.
They remained silent for a few long moments, face to face with the impossibilities of the matter. Helen wasn’t sure what she expected from him. Certainly not a pithy statement of inspiration. Now, now there, Helen. Everything will be just fine. You’ll see. Just trust in the Lord. Heavens! She really ought to know. She’d been here before, facing the threat of death like this.
“So then, you saw more?” Bill was speaking. “Did you see her die?”
She shook her head. “No, I did not see her die.”
She heard him swallow. “We should pray then,” he said.
Helen tried to still her emotions. “I did not see her death, but I did see more, Bill.”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice came haltingly. “What . . . what did you see?”
She shook her head. “I can’t say, really. I . . . I don’t know.”
“If you saw it, how could you not know?”
She closed her eyes, suddenly wishing she had said nothing to the man. She could hardly expect him to understand. “It was . . . hazy. Even when we see we don’t always see crystal clear. Humanity has managed to dim our spiritual eyesight. But you already know that, don’t you, Bill?”
He did not respond immediately, possibly offended at her condescension. “Yes,” he finally offered in a weak voice.
“I’m sorry, Pastor. This is rather difficult for me. She is my daughter.”
“Then let’s pray, Helen. We will pray to our Father.”
She nodded, and he began to pray. But her head was clogged with sorrow, and she barely heard his words.
KENT BROWSED through the trinkets in the airport gift shop, passing time, relaxing for the first time since he’d read that message eight hours earlier. He’d caught a connection to Chicago and now meandered through the concourse, waiting for the 3 A.M. redeye flight that would take him to Denver.
He bent over and wound up a toy monkey wielding small gold cymbals. The primate strutted noisily across the makeshift platform, banging its instrument and grinning obnoxiously. Clang-ka-ching, clang-ka-ching . Kent smiled despite the foolishness of it all. Spencer would get a kick out of the creature. For all of ten minutes possibly. Then it would end up on his closet floor, hidden under a thousand other ten-minute toys. Ten minutes for twenty dollars. It was skyway robbery.
On the other hand, it was Spencer’s face grinning there for ten minutes, and the image of those lips curved in delight brought a small smile to his own.
And it was not like they didn’t have the money. These were the kinds of things that were purchased by either totally irresponsible people, or people who did not bother with price. People like Tom Cruise or Kevin Costner. Or Bill Gates. He would have to get used to the idea. You wanna live a part, you’d better start playing that part. Build it, and they will come .
Kent tucked the monkey under his arm and sauntered over to the grown-up female trinkets neatly arranged against the wall beside racks of I love Chicago sweaters. Where Gloria had picked up her fascination with expensive crystal, he did not know. And now it would no longer matter, either. They were going to be rich.
He picked up a beveled cross, intricately carved with roses and bearing the words “In his death we have life.” It would be perfect. He imagined her lying in some hospital bed, propped up, her green eyes beaming at the sight of the gift in his hand. I love you, Honey.
Kent made his way to the checkout counter and purchased the gifts.
He might as well make the best of the situation. He would call Borst the minute he got home—make sure Bonehead and his troop were not blowing things down there in Miami. Meanwhile he would stay by Gloria’s side in her illness. It was his place.
And soon they would be on the plane to Paris anyway. Surely she would be able to travel. A sudden spike of panic ran up his spine. And what if the illness
“I’m very sorry, Helen.” Bill’s voice sounded strained.
They remained silent for a few long moments, face to face with the impossibilities of the matter. Helen wasn’t sure what she expected from him. Certainly not a pithy statement of inspiration. Now, now there, Helen. Everything will be just fine. You’ll see. Just trust in the Lord. Heavens! She really ought to know. She’d been here before, facing the threat of death like this.
“So then, you saw more?” Bill was speaking. “Did you see her die?”
She shook her head. “No, I did not see her die.”
She heard him swallow. “We should pray then,” he said.
Helen tried to still her emotions. “I did not see her death, but I did see more, Bill.”
He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice came haltingly. “What . . . what did you see?”
She shook her head. “I can’t say, really. I . . . I don’t know.”
“If you saw it, how could you not know?”
She closed her eyes, suddenly wishing she had said nothing to the man. She could hardly expect him to understand. “It was . . . hazy. Even when we see we don’t always see crystal clear. Humanity has managed to dim our spiritual eyesight. But you already know that, don’t you, Bill?”
He did not respond immediately, possibly offended at her condescension. “Yes,” he finally offered in a weak voice.
“I’m sorry, Pastor. This is rather difficult for me. She is my daughter.”
“Then let’s pray, Helen. We will pray to our Father.”
She nodded, and he began to pray. But her head was clogged with sorrow, and she barely heard his words.
KENT BROWSED through the trinkets in the airport gift shop, passing time, relaxing for the first time since he’d read that message eight hours earlier. He’d caught a connection to Chicago and now meandered through the concourse, waiting for the 3 A.M. redeye flight that would take him to Denver.
He bent over and wound up a toy monkey wielding small gold cymbals. The primate strutted noisily across the makeshift platform, banging its instrument and grinning obnoxiously. Clang-ka-ching, clang-ka-ching . Kent smiled despite the foolishness of it all. Spencer would get a kick out of the creature. For all of ten minutes possibly. Then it would end up on his closet floor, hidden under a thousand other ten-minute toys. Ten minutes for twenty dollars. It was skyway robbery.
On the other hand, it was Spencer’s face grinning there for ten minutes, and the image of those lips curved in delight brought a small smile to his own.
And it was not like they didn’t have the money. These were the kinds of things that were purchased by either totally irresponsible people, or people who did not bother with price. People like Tom Cruise or Kevin Costner. Or Bill Gates. He would have to get used to the idea. You wanna live a part, you’d better start playing that part. Build it, and they will come .
Kent tucked the monkey under his arm and sauntered over to the grown-up female trinkets neatly arranged against the wall beside racks of I love Chicago sweaters. Where Gloria had picked up her fascination with expensive crystal, he did not know. And now it would no longer matter, either. They were going to be rich.
He picked up a beveled cross, intricately carved with roses and bearing the words “In his death we have life.” It would be perfect. He imagined her lying in some hospital bed, propped up, her green eyes beaming at the sight of the gift in his hand. I love you, Honey.
Kent made his way to the checkout counter and purchased the gifts.
He might as well make the best of the situation. He would call Borst the minute he got home—make sure Bonehead and his troop were not blowing things down there in Miami. Meanwhile he would stay by Gloria’s side in her illness. It was his place.
And soon they would be on the plane to Paris anyway. Surely she would be able to travel. A sudden spike of panic ran up his spine. And what if the illness
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