Wings Like Eagles

by Tracie Peterson

  “But everybody dies,” Christy said, as though it would be news to Curt.

  “Sure,” Curt nodded, “everyone dies once. The Bible says that’s something that happens because of our physical limitations. But we don’t have to die twice.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Spiritually. The Bible was talking about spiritual death. If you accept Christ as your Savior and bridge that gap to God, you don’t have to die spiritually and be forever separated from God. People sometimes get all wrapped up in the image of hell as this burning place with the devil and his pitchfork. They shudder in revulsion at that image, yet they miss the bigger picture. Hell isn’t just physical suffering and torment; it’s separation from God. It’s the ultimate realization that you have completely negated your existence in God’s eyes.”

  Christy stared at him for a moment. “If God is so good, why doesn’t He just fix things permanently with people so that they won’t go to hell?”

  “Because He gives us a choice. He doesn’t force a relationship on us. He lets us taste of His goodness, His peace, and His love. Then He lets us decide for ourselves.”

  “But if that’s true,” Christy said, trying desperately to sort through Curt’s statement, “if God is truly offering all this wonderful goodness, why would anyone choose any other way?”

  Curt smiled. “Good question. Ask yourself, what keeps me from giving my life to God? Maybe you’ll find the answer to your own question.”

  Just then, Erik returned. “I finally reached Grant on his car phone. He’s on his way up.”

  Christy nodded and moved away from Curt. “I think I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.”

  “I was just about to suggest some coffee,” Erik replied. “Curt, you want to join me?”

  “Sure,” he answered and looked at Christy. “We’ll bring you back some.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured and went to stare out the window into the Denver night.

  This God stuff was new to her in many ways, and in other ways it wasn’t at all foreign. Erik had tried on more than one occasion to talk to her about Christianity. Christy remembered telling him that she wasn’t interested—that he might need God, but she certainly didn’t. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Minutes ticked by, and Christy wondered silently why God had brought her to this point in her life. She’d been so many places and done so many things, and yet, all in all, this was the hardest.

  “So what seems to be the problem now?”

  Christy whirled around to find Grant standing there, looking for all the world like he was bored.

  “Your wife is about to die, and your baby is about to be born,” Christy replied sarcastically. She came to Grant and stood only inches from him. “We just thought you might like to know.”

  “The only thing I want to know is whether or not you have my money.” Grant’s statement clarified any possibility that he felt concern about the situation.

  “I’m working on it,” Christy spat the words. “You could at least pretend you care about them.”

  “Why? To salve your conscience? To make this easier for you and your brother? I don’t think so,” Grant said in a heartless manner and looked at his watch. “I just want the matter settled. I haven’t got time for games.”

  “This isn’t a game!” Christy exclaimed.

  “Keep your voice down,” Grant said, taking on a threatening appearance. “I don’t need any hassles, Christy. Just get me the money, or you’ll never see the baby. It’s that simple.”

  Curt had returned with Christy’s coffee, but seeing her with the stranger, he held back in the shadows just outside the waiting room. He could see that Christy was mad. She was ranting at the man, who stood with his back to the door. Curt realized it was probably her brother-in-law and started to go into the room, but something held him back. If it was her brother-in-law, then this was the man he was after. This man, Grant Burks, was possibly the man responsible for his parents’ death, and Curt wasn’t about to let him get away by blowing his cover.

  It looked as though they were about to end their conversation, so Curt moved away from the room and waited out of sight. He watched and nearly dropped the coffee, however, as the man turned to stalk out of the room. It wasn’t Grant Burks at all. It was Cheryl Fairchild’s fiancé, Stratton McFarland.

  Curt started to approach the man, then thought better of it. Turning away as Stratton rushed by, Curt could hardly wait to get back to Christy and find out why she had been arguing with McFarland.

  Christy appeared shaken and was even more reserved than before when Curt approached her with the coffee. “Who was that?” he mo-tioned with his head in the direction McFarland had just disappeared.

  “That was my brother-in-law, Grant,” Christy said, taking the coffee from Curt’s hand.

  Curt began to put two and two together and didn’t like what he came up with. Grant Burks was posing as Stratton McFarland, or vice versa. Either way, he was living two completely different lives, with women at both ends and an uncertain, but obvious, relationship to the drugs that had cost Curt’s mother and father their lives.

  “Christy,” Curt suddenly found himself saying, “what do you really know about him?”

  “Grant?”

  “Yes,” Curt said, his eyes narrowing in concentrated interest. “Have you known him long?”

  “Not long, really. About a year I guess. He and Candy met through mutual friends and were married nearly a month later. They eloped and didn’t even bother to tell anyone until they were back from their honeymoon. Why?”

  “I was just curious,” Curt replied.

  “Where’s Erik?” Christy asked, completely unconcerned with Curt’s questions about Grant.

  “He said he’d be here shortly. Here he is now,” Curt said and nodded toward the door. Erik entered with the doctor, who Curt immediately recognized as the man who was to perform Candy’s surgery. Erik had tears on his face.

  “Your sister gave birth to a little girl,” the doctor said softly. “She appears to be healthy and strong. Erik tells me that Candy wanted to name her Sarah.”

  “Yes,” Christy whispered and felt Curt come to stand beside her.

  “Well, they’ve taken Sarah to the intensive care nursery where she’ll be monitored and given all of the attention she needs. You can visit her there every day, and I encourage you to start bonding to her immediately. That is, if you’re still going to be the one who adopts her.”

  “I am,” Christy said, hardly able to say the words that followed. “What about my sister?”

  The doctor shook his head. “She lasted much longer than any of us expected, but she just wasn’t strong enough to last through the surgery.”

  Christy stood bone stiff, not even breathing.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Connors. It’s never easy to lose someone you love.”

  “I want to see her,” Christy blurted out. All three men looked at her questioningly.

  “The baby will need to be cleaned up and evaluated before I can let you see her,” the doctor said.

  “No,” Christy replied and turned to Curt, “I want to see my sister. I need to say good-bye.”

  Curt nodded and looked to the doctor. “It’s all right. I’ll be with her.”

  “Me, too,” Erik chimed in possessively.

  The doctor drew a deep breath. “I’ll have the O.R. team clear out and then take you back.”

  Minutes later, Curt led Christy, with Erik following close behind, to the small recovery room where Candy’s body had been moved. Thought-fully, the doctor had already pulled the sheet down to lie just under Candy’s serene face. She looks like she’s only sleeping, Christy thought. She reached out to touch her sister’s still warm cheek. Didn’t dead people get all cold and stiff?

  Christy shook her head mutely. The doctor was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it. Her mind was blurred with the images of a little girl dancing around the room, showing off her frilly dress, talking about her ne
w doll. Candy was gone, and all that remained were fuzzy memories and a tiny infant girl who they would call Sarah.

  Erik cried openly, but Christy had no tears. She needed to accept this death, but in her heart there were still too many unanswered questions. Erik finally left, unable to deal with the emotions of the moment, but Curt remained by her side.

  “I’m here, Sissy,” Christy whispered, bending down to Candy’s ear. She smoothed Candy’s hair back as though she were still alive.

  Reaching under the sheet, Christy gripped Candy’s hand tightly. There were no words. No words at all. She just stood there, staring into the face of death and a lifetime of love. Oh, Candy, she thought, you can’t really be gone!

  After several minutes, Curt gently removed Candy’s hand from Christy’s and led her out the door. Christy could barely make her legs walk beside Curt down the long hospital corridor. She just couldn’t accept that Candy was dead.

  She said nothing as they moved out into the night air. The parking garage where Curt had left his car seemed to take forever to reach. Christy felt her head grow strangely dizzy. Her legs felt as though they were weighted rubber. They’d nearly reached the car when Christy stopped.

  “Are you okay?” Curt asked and reached over to lift her face to see her better in the dim parking garage light.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Christy whispered, trying desperately to focus her eyes.

  “You mean throw up?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head and reaching out to fight the gravity that was pulling her downward. “I think I’m going to faint.”

  Curt put his hands under her arms and pulled her forward. “Christy, just close your eyes, and it’ll be all right. I’ll carry you to the car.”

  “No,” she whimpered against his hold. “I can walk. I never do this. I can’t stand fainty women. I have to fight it.”

  “It’s okay to be a fainty woman if you have a reason like you do.”

  “I have to be strong.”

  Christy was still unable to move, and Curt finally ignored her pleading and lifted her into his arms. “You can be strong tomorrow,” he said insistently, “but right now, you’ll let me take care of you.”

  Christy snuggled against him, feeling the blackness lift just a bit. Yes, she thought, I’ll let Curt take care of me, just this once.

  fifteen

  Curt took Christy home and insisted that she go right to bed, refusing to listen to her protests.

  “I’ll be downstairs on the sofa,” he said at the top of the steps by her bedroom door. “If you need me, just call for me. I’ll hear you.”

  Waiting to make sure Christy actually went into her bedroom and closed the door, Curt then made his way quickly to the telephone. He dialed the number absentmindedly and waited for Debbie to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Debbie, it’s Curt.”

  “Where in the world have you been?” Her voice was edged with true concern. “I’ve been trying to locate you for hours.”

  “I know. Listen, something big has happened, and I need your help….”

  Minutes later, Curt dialed the second of two phone calls he knew he’d have to make. It was quite late, but there was no putting it off.

  “Hello?” a sleep-filled voice sounded on the other end of the line.

  “Brad, it’s Curt.”

  “What is it?” Brad’s voice immediately sounded clearer.

  “Something’s happened tonight, and I think you should be aware of it. I also think the time has come to get CJ out of Denver. Especially away from Cheryl.” Curt’s voice was a low whisper.

  “Why?” Brad asked without hesitation.

  “Cheryl’s fiancé, Stratton McFarland, is the man at the center of our investigation. He’s really a man named Grant Burks, at least I presume that’s his real name. My partner is checking it out even as we speak. Look, I don’t think Cheryl has any idea about the drug ring, but I can’t risk it. I’m going to see Ben tomorrow, and I have no idea how it will go. It’s very possible that even Ben is involved in this. We can’t risk CJ being with Cheryl when things go sour. I think you’d better get her out of town.”

  “I understand, and I’ll see to everything at this end,” Brad replied.

  “CJ won’t like it,” Curt said as if Brad wouldn’t already know.

  “No, she won’t,” Brad replied. “But she’ll do what she’s told—at least this once.”

  Curt hung up the phone and took a deep breath. If only he knew whether or not Cheryl and Ben were involved. Surely they weren’t. Doug O’Sullivan had loved Ben like a brother. The families had always been inseparable. Ben would never have allowed anything bad to happen to Doug if he could have stopped it, of this Curt was certain.

  “Oh, God,” Curt breathed, “where are the answers?”

  Upstairs, Christy lay awake in the huge Victorian bed. She thought at first, when she’d crawled between the cool comfort of her sheets, that she’d sleep forever. But that wasn’t to be the case. She felt wide awake.

  Hours passed as she tossed from one side of the bed to the other, trying without luck to find a comfortable position. Why couldn’t she just relax and forget about the events of the night?

  Moonlight came through the window, streaking shadows across the room. Christy sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. Curt had said that Candy knew where she was going and that was why she wasn’t afraid to die. But Christy didn’t know where she was going. Christy felt alone and lost, so helplessly lost. The void inside was eating her alive, and she finally threw off the covers and went to find Curt. She had to settle this thing once and for all. She had to make peace with God and know where she was going.

  Silently she crept down the stairs and went to the sitting room, where she knew Curt would be sleeping. She glanced at the small fire he’d built before retiring. It was dying down so that just a flicker of flames danced upward every so often. She came to stand beside the sleeping man and noticed in the dim light that he had the most beautiful eyelashes.

  “Curt,” she whispered his name.

  “Yeah?”

  The fact that he was wide awake startled her for only a moment. “I need to talk to you about God. I need…” Her words fell away as tears came unbidden to her eyes.

  Curt sat up and pushed the covers away. “Come here,” he said, patting the couch.

  “I’m so lost, Curt. I’m scared and lost and empty. I don’t know where I’m going. Do you understand?”

  Curt reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yes, I understand. You need to have peace in your soul. You want to know that you’ll see your sister again and that God will take care of all the details and give you strength to go on.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, nodding her head. “Oh, yes!”

  There was no tone of condemnation, nor did Curt offer a pious sermon. He simply took her hand and smiled. “Isaiah 40:30–31 says, ‘Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’ I always liked that verse because I was a pilot and soaring on wings like eagles was an important part of my life. But just like you, there were times when I couldn’t cope and things seemed much too difficult to deal with. My mom showed me this verse when I was quite small and told me that I had a source of strength that would never fail me. All I had to do was put my hope in the Lord, and He would do the rest.”

  Curt continued to share God’s love, and when he asked Christy if she was ready to accept salvation through Christ, she knew she was. It not only felt right, but it was clearly the only choice.

  “Then we’ll just pray,” Curt told her softly, “and ask God to save you. We’ll ask Jesus to bring you into His family forever.”

  Christy bit at her lower lip. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to say it right.”

  “Then we’ll do it together,” Curt s
aid supportively. He pulled her close. “Just repeat after me, and only say it if you really and truly mean it. God already knows your heart, Christy. He just wants you to recognize what He’s already seen there.”

  “All right. I’m ready,” she replied.

  “Dear Father, I know I’m lost without You,” Curt began and Christy repeated the words, knowing them to be truer than anything she’d ever spoken in her life.

  “Forgive me of my sins and help me to turn away from evil, so that I might live forever with You in heaven.” Again Christy echoed the words.

  “I accept what Jesus did for me on the cross, dying to take my place. I ask that You would accept me now as Your child and forever keep me in Your care. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Christy finished the prayer and sat silently for several minutes. She thought of Curt’s words and her prayer and wondered if she would ever truly feel as though she soared on wings like eagles. Even with the assurance that she had salvation, Christy still ached from the loss of her sibling, and she faced the idea of motherhood with uncertainty.

  Gently, Curt turned Christy to face him and cupped her chin in his hand. “I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time, and I will always love only you.”

  Christy felt her heart skip a beat. “I love you, too.” The words slipped out before she could guard her thoughts. Feeling almost embarrassed, she tried to turn away, but Curt would have no part of it.

  “Trust me, Christy. Just as you are trusting God for your soul and eternity, trust me to love you and be faithful to you,” he whispered sincerely.

  “It’s not easy to trust after a lifetime of hurt.”

  “I know, but I’m patient and,” he paused and grinned broadly, “determined.”

  “Yes, you certainly are,” Christy agreed.

  “I want you to understand some things, but now isn’t the right time. Please trust me in this, and when the time comes, try to remember that I love you and that you can count on that love.”