The Turning by Davis Bunn

was not just the woman who responded. The olive-skinned man seated at the next table mirrored the woman’s astonishment. She demanded, “Now why on earth are you asking a total stranger a question like that?”
    “Because,” John replied slowly, carefully, “I wonder if maybe we’re all here for the same reason.”
    “And what reason is that?”
    He shook his head. “I have no idea.”
    The woman revealed a smile that completely transformed her face as she stood. “Ain’t that the thing, now.”
    “I’m John Jacobs. That’s my wife, Heather. And Jenny Linn. And the lady—”
    “I know who that sister is. I’ve been watching and listening to her all my life.” She was not quite as tall as John, but made up for it in muscular girth. “I am Alisha Seames.”
    “Would you care to join us?”
    “That table already looks crowded.”
    The olive-skinned man rose to his feet. “Please, I am wondering, would you perhaps have room for one more? We could move the two tables together, don’t you see.” He spoke with the precise diction of one who translated as he shaped the words. “For I too am drawn here by reasons that I do not understand. And I can only hope that it is my Savior’s voice I have been hearing.”

6
     
    “… pierced themselves with many griefs …”
     
    NEW YORK CITY
     
    T rent Cooper sat at a narrow table against the stockroom’s rear wall. He turned on his cellphone, checking the time again. He hated having to rely on a stranger, particularly at this most important moment of his entire life. But he could not manage what he needed on his own. Success hinged upon the guy doing what he had promised, and delivering on time. Trent checked his watch, which showed the exact same time as his phone.
    He had never worked so hard. And he had always worked twice as hard as everyone else. He was painfully aware of the slight indent running from his upper lip to the base of his right nostril. His tongue traced around the soft dimple in the top of his mouth where the doctors had filled the opening that in most people was solid bone. Whenever he was extremely nervous, he could feel the soft tissue vibrate when he spoke. The speech therapist, a young woman with caring eyes, had told him to look beyond such sensations and focus on the people he wanted to reach with his words. She had spent as much time building his confidence as she had working on his speech. Her whole demeanor had changed when she talked about taking control of his destiny, doing the most with what he had, rising above his difficulties,
using
them. She had challenged him in ways that no one else ever had. Certainly not his parents, who accepted their humble station with quiet resignation.
    He was brought back to the present by the ringing of his cellphone. “This is Trent.”
    “I’m here,” the voice said.
    Trent released the frenzied tension with a tight sigh. “You’re late.”
    “I’m at the door. And I’ve got the goods. That’s what matters most, right?”
    “Five minutes.” Trent cut the connection, left the stockroom, and forced himself not to race down the hall. He passed through the reception area and approached the younger of Barry Mundrose’s two assistants.
    Gayle finished her phone conversation and smiled at him, offering a professional friendliness that meant nothing. The woman was utterly beautiful…and cold as glacial ice. “Mr. Cooper, how are you this morning?”
    “Scared to death.” He was also so excited his heart was racing faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “And totally committed.”
    She nodded gravely. “That is probably a healthy attitude to take.”
    “I need the money.”
    “And I have it for you.” She turned to the credenza imbedded in the wall behind her desk. The central door revealed an electronic safe. She applied her thumb to the fingerprint reader, then coded in the access. “How much this time?”
    “Twenty thousand.”
    She counted out the bills, put them in a blank