| |
The noise stopped as suddenly as it started, leaving an eerie silence that seemed louder than the storm in the darkness of the closet. Dave almost preferred the howling of the wind. He unfolded himself and eased away from Lisa. He felt her jerk when the light from his phone filled the small space.
He extended a hand. “Are you OK?”
Lisa took the hand. “I think so.” She straightened. “Is it over?”
“Probably.” He tilted his head and couldn’t stop the grin.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He tapped the helmet he’d shoved onto her head. “You’re pretty adorable as a purple unicorn.”
Lisa yanked it off and examined it with her own light. “Cute.” She swung the tiny beam in his direction. “And you really are my hero, Peter.”
“Peter?”
“Take a look.”
He tugged the helmet free and brought it into the light. Spiderman flew across the dome of yellow plastic, spraying his web. “Glad I could help.” He tossed the helmet onto the shelf and reached for the door. “Let’s get out of here and check on the others.” He twisted the knob and gave a push.
Nothing.
He put his hands on his hips. “The wind must have twisted the frame or something. It’s stuck.”
“Well, come on Spiderman. Put some muscle behind it.”
Dave took a step back, lunged, and shoved his shoulder into the door. It didn’t give a centimeter. Dave rubbed his shoulder and prepared to try again. After the second shove produced no more result than the first, Lisa added her weight to the third. Nothing moved.
“Sorry,” he said. “but I don’t think we’re going anywhere for a while.”
“We have to get out of here. Mom was home. What if...?” Lisa let the words hang and yanked her phone out of her pocket. She keyed in numbers and frowned before slapping the instrument with her free hand. “Come on!”
Dave looked at his own screen. The words no service mocked him from the upper left corner. “Storm must have damaged the cell tower.”
She looked around the small space, her eyes darting from corner to corner.
He clasped his hands over hers. “Look at me.” Dave hoped his smile was confident when she met his gaze. “Now, take a deep breath.” Her brown eyes remained locked on his as she did what he asked.
“Better?”
She gave a single jerk of her head in response.
“I know you’re worried about your mom, and not being able to check on her is scary, but panic won’t get us out of here. We need to be patient. People know where we are.” Well, he conceded to himself, that might be a little bit of a lie. The guys he’d left in the cellar knew he’d come back in the house for Lisa. If they were OK, they’d be looking. He swallowed back the bitter taste of his own anxiety and squeezed her fingers. “We have great emergency management teams. They’ll have us out of here in no time.” He let go of her hands. “But you might want to save your battery, just in case.”
Lisa sighed, slid to the floor, and waited for Dave to do the same before she killed the light. They sat in silence for a moment or two, the darkness thick and still except for their breathing.
Dave drummed his fingers on his leg. Maybe he could get her to listen now. He bowed his head to his knees. Father, if You’ve given us this chance to talk, I don’t want to waste it. Please give me the right words.
“I’m sorry about last week,” he said.
“Me, too,” Lisa whispered.
A few more beats of silence. At least she hadn’t shut him down. Her words from earlier reverberated in his mind until he couldn’t keep the question in any longer. “What did you mean earlier when you said you’d had enough lies from my kind to last a lifetime?”
He heard Lisa sigh. “It’s a really long story.”
Dave gave the blocked door a solid rap with his knuckles. “What else have we got to do?”
Her voice was soft when it came out of the dark. “My dad was a preacher.”
She paused for so long that Dave worried that might be the extent of her explanation. He heard a sniff and didn’t know whether to reach for her or wait. He chose to wait.
“He was a master at building something from nothing,” Lisa finally said. “He specialized in reviving churches where the membership had fallen. He’d go in, and it wouldn’t be long before he had everyone left in the congregation committed to an outreach program. He’d organize committees, the committees would organize activities, the activities would bring the people, and the people would crowd the pews. In three or four years, the church would be involved in a thriving building program. Once the church had a nice new building filled with dedicated people, Dad would get bored, uproot Mom and me, and the cycle would start all over again. By the time I left for college, he was rallying his fifth or sixth congregation.”
“He sounds like an amazing man of God.”
“He was,” Lisa agreed. “He had a real gift.” Another pause, another sniff. “I grew up begging God to take it away from him.”
“Why would you do that?”
Dave didn’t think the noise he heard from Lisa was a laugh. “Because we always had a church, but we never had a family. I played softball all through high school. Dad never attended a single game. Dinner was just Mom and me five or six nights a week because something or someone needed him more than we did. He wasn’t at my graduation, didn’t help transport me to college. And vacations? Dad financed some great trips, but he was always too busy to travel with us. The Bible calls the pastor the shepherd of the flock. Dad took that role very seriously.”
This time when she paused, Dave was sure he heard a giggle.
“I’ve often wondered when he found time to get Mom pregnant. He knew we needed him. There were constant promises to Mom and me to try harder, to pay more attention, to slow down. He just needed to do this one more thing...”
An outright sob filled the darkness.
“He worked himself into an early grave at the age of fifty. I figure he’s in heaven now, organizing the Second Coming.” Her voice was bitter.
Dave weighed her words and took the time to see Saturday from Lisa’s point of view. More than a disappointment. Another broken promise by a busy minister. He recalled his questioning of Jemma days ago and her comment that he was uniquely qualified to address Lisa’s hesitancy. He rubbed his hands down his face and looked to the dark ceiling. Messed that up.
Lisa wasn’t finished. “Don’t get me wrong. I admire ministers and what they do. I know how important they are to the church and the twenty-first-century work of God. But I don’t want to be a part of it. I won’t live that way. I won’t raise a family that way.”
She shifted, and her hand landed on Dave’s knee. Dave laced his fingers with hers.
“I like you...too much,” she said. “There’s a silly, romantic part of me that makes me want to forget everything I lived through. Then there’s the logical, realistic side that won’t let me past it. I know you had a good reason for standing me up. There will always be a good reason.”
Dave squeezed her fingers. No one understood the adult fears and insecurities bred by a deprived childhood more than he did. Father, help me make her understand. He raised her hand to his lips and brushed her knuckles with a kiss. She didn’t pull away, and he counted that as a victory.
“Thanks for being honest with me.” And even though she’d denied needing the facts of Saturday’s emergency, he gave them to her anyway, leaving out the names she didn’t need to know. “The young man had taken pills by the time we got there. We managed to get him to the hospital, and they were able to save his life. It was touch-and-go for several hours, and when his parents finally arrived, they needed me for support until the danger passed. Since we’re being honest, let me say that calling you never crossed my mind until the next day. We know how that went.”
Lisa struggled to pull her hand from his grasp. “You must think I’m a horrible person.”
Dave held on tighter. “No, you’re just wounded, like all of us. I’m not going to lie to you. I take what I do very seriously. As a minister, there are always going to be emergencies, people who need me at unexpected times, people whose demands on my time and attention might seem unreasonable to my family. But I think the way your father handled his calling was wrong.”
“How so?”
“There’s a verse in First Timothy that says that the man who doesn’t provide for his family, the people of his own house, is worse than an unbeliever. That’s sort of cobbled together, but I can show you the verse when we get out of here.”
“We never lacked for physical things,” Lisa said.
“No, but you did without his time and attention. You grew up questioning his love. Providing for a family is more than just money.” Dave paused and let that soak in while he gathered his thoughts.
“Lisa, I can’t make up for what your father didn’t give you any more than you can make up for the family I longed for in that orphanage. The past is the past. At some point in our lives, we have to move beyond the things we did without and trust God for the things of the future.”
Overcome with the need to see her face, he fumbled with his phone and, when the light came on, laid it on the shelf behind him. He’d heard her tears in the darkness, but the sight of them undid him. He cupped her face in his hands, used his thumbs to wipe away the moisture, and met her liquid gaze.
“We’ve only known each other for a month, and despite what I’m beginning to feel, I’m not going to pressure you.” The noise of a chainsaw cut through the silence, and dust rained down on them as something above them shifted. Dave scrambled to his feet and pulled Lisa to hers. “We aren’t going to be in here much longer. Will you promise me that you’ll pray about what I’ve said?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
The roar of the chain saw died.
“You guys all right in there?” The words came from a muffled voice.
Their answer came in unison. “Yes!”
“Great. Back away from the door, we’ll have you out of there in a jif.”
Lisa pulled him as far into the back corner as possible. “Thanks for not giving up on me. Can I call you in a day or two, after I’ve had some time to sort some things out?”
“I’m counting on it.” Dave had time for a single stolen kiss before the door gave a final shrieking protest and swung free of the mangled frame.