She smiled through her tears. “Yes, I know. He taught me that verse when I was in high school. It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”
“Okay. Well at least it made you smile,” he said. “I texted Michelle. When do you think she and Steve will be back home?”
His question interrupted her flashback. “What?” she asked.
“When do you think Michelle and Steve will be home?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully by the middle of the afternoon tomorrow. I wish we knew the name of that place they’re staying in,” she added. “I’m not even certain of the town, or we could call all the B & B’s in that area.”
“Maybe I should call the airlines and book her a late flight for tomorrow night,” Tim suggested.
“That’s a great idea, honey. Reserve two seats in case Steve is able to come with her.”
“Alright. I’ll go take care of that and then come back with something for you to eat. You’ve got to eat something, Mom, even if you’re not hungry.”
“He’s right, Mrs. Ackerman. You’ll need your strength,” Sherrene added.
“Okay. I don’t have the energy to fight both of you. Just bring something light, like a sandwich or something. Maybe you’d better take a cab back to the motel and get my car.”
“There’s a decent hotel across the street,” Sherrene said. “Maybe you two should see if you can get a room there.”
Sheila looked at Tim.
“I’ll handle it, Mom. After I get the car, I’ll get a room and pick up something for you to eat.”
He took off, and Sheila was left gazing at her husband and feeling very lost and afraid.
Sylvia could not get John Ackerman off of her mind. All night long she kept recalling his downcast countenance when he left the law office. She felt compelled to pray for him each time she tossed or turned over in bed.
By morning she was convinced that she needed to go talk to him again. Perhaps there would be an open door to share the Lord with him, though she did not consider herself much of an evangelist.
Rather than calling on the phone, she decided to drive by the Redwood Lodge on her way to work. Maybe she would be able to talk him into having a donut and some coffee with her.
Since she wasn’t sure which room was John’s, she went to the office first. A middle-aged woman was sitting behind the counter talking on the phone. She told whomever she was talking to that she would have to call back later.
“Can I help you?” she asked in a very businesslike way.
“I’m looking for a man by the name of John Ackerman. He’s staying here.”
“Well, actually, he’s not here anymore,” the woman replied evasively.
“When did he check out?”
“I guess you might say that he ‘checked out’ in the middle of the night.”
“What do you mean, you guess?”
“Well, he didn’t exactly walk in here and check out. He left in an ambulance. Gunshot wound,” she added under her breath.
“Oh, no.” Sylvia took a deep breath as she used the counter to help balance herself. “Was he alive?”
“Yes. They took him to St. John’s Methodist.”
“Okay. Thanks,” Sylvia mumbled, pushing away from the counter and returning to her car. She pulled her cell phone out of the glove box and called her brother.
“Jeff, it’s me. You know that guy, John Ackerman, who you talked to yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he’s in the hospital with a gunshot wound. Either those people who were trying to frame him were pretty desperate, or he lost hope himself and decided to end it all. I’m heading over to St. John’s Methodist to find out if he made it through the night. I don’t know when I’ll be in. Can you manage for a few hours?”
“Oh, man. Sorry to hear that. Yeah. I have that big meeting with Stanley Brothers, which will probably last until eleven. I’ll have the switchboard downstairs pick up my calls until you get back. Leave me a message about Ackerman, and maybe I’ll try to come by the hospital,” Jeff said.
“Okay. I’ll call as soon as I know anything,” she promised.
Phil and Joan pulled into a roadside coffee shop for breakfast. They had been driving since two-thirty that morning and needed something to eat. The florescent lights of the restaurant were harsh and the yellow, orange, and brown patterned carpet was reminiscent of the ’70s.
“Let’s just grab a quick muffin and some coffee and get out of here,” Joan suggested.
“Good idea,” her husband agreed.
They ordered bran muffins and coffee to go and were back on the road in fifteen minutes. Bridgeport was only seventy miles away, so they would be there by nine-thirty. As they drove, Joan silently prayed for John, pleading with God to reach out to her son-in-law with the gift of salvation.
She thought about the fifty-three people who had been praying through the night, as the urgent prayer request for John had pressed through the church prayer chain. Thank you, Lord, for prayer warriors who are willing to be awakened at all hours to stand in the gap for our loved ones, she spoke silently to God.
His wife sat on a large boulder beside the lake, a fishing pole in one hand, her book in the other. Steve had refused to take no as an answer to his fishing quest, so she was trying to accommodate him while getting her reading done at the same time.
“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he observed from his perch on a tree stump. “You’re buried up to your ears in that book.” Why can’t she just forget all that stuff for a while.
“Sorry,” she replied, then added teasingly, “Maybe the fish will keep you company.”
Ouch. After a few minutes, he said, “Okay. Guess we’ll call it a day. Nothing’s biting anyway. Let’s go back to our room and clean up for breakfast.”
She smiled in agreement. They packed up the fishing gear and hiked back up the short, winding path to the bed and breakfast. As they approached the property, wonderful aromas of cinnamon and bacon wafted through the morning air.
“Smells like heaven to me,” he commented with a smile, hoping to reconnect with her.
“Race you to the room!” she countered, taking off running. He looked down at the gear in his hands and shook his head as she disappeared into the inn.
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting at the dining room table feasting their eyes on the spread before them. One large platter was piled high with giant homemade cinnamon buns. Two quiches flanked the treats. One was a vegetarian recipe, and the other was filled with ham and three kinds of cheese. Plates with bacon and sausage were placed strategically around the table and each place setting had a small bowl of fresh fruit and a roll that looked like squaw bread.
The cook explained the various dishes and beckoned the guests to help themselves. Twelve people of various ages were seated around the table, and they began introducing themselves to each other as they passed the various dishes around. One of the other younger couples was from Southern California, so Michelle launched into a conversation with them.
As it turned out, the wife knew Kristin, Michelle’s best friend, from a woman’s Bible study at her church. Michelle seemed surprised to hear Kristin would be attending a Bible study, but she looked happy to meet an acquaintance of her friend. By the time breakfast was over, they’d exchanged addresses and phone numbers.
Afterward, she told Steve she wanted to go for a walk along the lake by herself. He felt a little concerned, but she said, “It’s no big deal, Steve. I just want to be alone for a little while and soak up the scenery.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” he asked. Michelle had never acted like this before. When it came to hiking or taking walks, she always wanted someone to go along with her.
She was really changing—becoming more independent and more distant. He didn’t know what to think. Although he didn’t want to become a jealous or suffocating husband, he didn’t like the way she seemed to be pulling away from him and from their relatio
nship.
“Don’t be silly, Steve. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl,” she laughed and winked as she strolled out the door.
“I see,” Steve replied to the air after she was gone. He decided he would stay in the room and pray for her while she was gone. Maybe God would touch her with the beauty of creation during her little walk and use that as another seed to draw her back toward the faith she once possessed.
As Michelle walked along the path at the water’s edge, she thought about many things: her marriage, her relationship with Trevor, and her father. The men in my life, she thought to herself, realizing they were the focal point of her mind on this walk, rather than the natural beauty she had sought to embrace.
She sat under a tree and tried meditating, but as she sat there all she could think about was the unsettling feeling she had about her father. It had stirred her to awaken in the middle of the night, and now it was coming back to haunt her. Something must be wrong.
She decided to try to tap into the power of universal consciousness that Trevor had told her about. Maybe she could send vibrations of encouragement and hope to her father.
Twenty minutes later she felt as concerned and disconnected as ever. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to reach into this dimension. She wished Trevor was there to help her or to channel these powers to her father himself.
Meanwhile her husband was fervently interceding on her behalf, pleading with God to reopen her eyes to the truth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sylvia arrived at St. John’s Methodist and worked her way through the maze of corridors to the ICU. The front desk had informed her that she would be able to locate John Ackerman there.
Feeling awkward and like an outsider, she approached the nurses’ station and spoke to a woman who seemed to be in charge.
“I’ve come to inquire about a friend, John Ackerman,” she started.
“His wife and son are with him right now,” the nurse replied. “Why don’t you have a seat right over there, and I’ll tell them you’re here. What was your name again?”
“My name is Sylvia, but I don’t know his wife or son. I just recently met John when he consulted with my brother, who is an attorney,” she explained haltingly. “I know this sounds crazy, but when I heard he was in the hospital, I felt like I should come over and pray for him.”
At that comment, the nurse smiled. “Sometimes God prompts us to do things we don’t fully understand. John Ackerman can use all the prayers he can get.”
Sylvia relaxed a little, realizing that she was in the company of another believer. “I’ve been really concerned about Mr. Ackerman since he left my brother’s office. He seemed to have lost all hope in a matter that has been consuming his life.”
“Sometimes those impossible circumstances are the only things that can bring us to our knees,” the nurse said thoughtfully. “Would you like me to introduce you to his family, or would you prefer to just sit out here and pray?”
“I think I’ll pray for a while. If his wife comes out, you can introduce us. But I don’t want to interrupt her time with him. Besides, my brother is hoping to get by later, and maybe he can talk to her about his meeting with John. I’m just his secretary, so I’m not privy to all they discussed,” she said.
“Make yourself comfortable, dear,” the nurse replied with a warm smile. “It’s always great to have a fellow prayer warrior in this ward.”
Sylvia returned her smile and settled down on a soft crescent-shaped couch that rested against one of the curved walls. Bowing her head in silence, she fervently interceded for John Ackerman, praying that God would reach him and make Himself real to this man who so desperately needed His touch.
Phil and Joan paused momentarily before getting out of their car in the hospital parking lot. Grasping hands, they pleaded with God to set John free—free from his own bondage to independence, self-sufficiency, and pride.
They asked for wisdom to comfort their daughter and grandchildren, and boldness to speak the truth in love. They prayed for John’s salvation first and foremost and for his complete physical healing as well.
Then they looked into each other’s eyes, and went to face their greatest challenge—bringing light to someone trapped in darkness.
The receptionist at the information desk gave them a map of the hospital and showed them the path to the ICU. Walking hand-in-hand, they found their way to the large circular center.
It was relatively quiet that morning in intensive care. A nurse was doing some paperwork at the central desk, and a woman was sitting alone on the couch in what appeared to be a posture of grief or prayer.
Because of the glass walls facing toward the desk, it was clear that five beds were occupied. Before the nurse could address them, they spotted Tim heading out of the public restroom off to the side of the cubicles.
“Tim!” Joan cried.
They came together and embraced, Tim’s eyes filling with tears. “It’s okay, Son,” Phil said, noticing Tim’s embarrassment at his show of emotions. “You don’t have to be strong for us.”
“Take us to him,” Joan said softly, using her thumb to wipe a tear that had escaped the corner of Tim’s eye.
He led them into cubicle 4, and Sheila looked up with an expression of relief as she saw them enter.
“Mom, Dad,” was all she could say before collapsing into their open arms. The three huddled together in a prolonged embrace as Sheila began to cry again softly.
“You’d think I’d be out of tears by now,” she said.
“The Lord sees each tear, honey. He knows what you are going through,” Phil replied with earnest genuineness, his own heart breaking as he held her.
“I know, Dad. He’s been with me here.”
Joan nodded and hugged her daughter tightly again. “He’ll get you through this, baby.”
“I just hope He can get John through it, too,” she replied.
“We need to pray together for that, Sheila. Your husband needs God’s touch on his spirit as well as his body,” Phil explained.
“Please pray for him, Dad. I’m really worried,” their daughter admitted, looking at him with the pleading look of a frightened and confused child.
Joan held her close while Phil walked over to the side of John’s hospital bed. He looked down at the broken man who lay there helpless. His heart swelled with compassion, and he began to pray.
“Lord, I want to lift John to your throne of grace. Please reach down and touch him. In the midst of this darkness, send the light of your love into his heart and spirit. Remove the blinders of self-sufficiency and pride, and give him a new and clear view of you. Bring to his remembrance every word he has ever heard spoken about your Son. Take him to the foot of the cross and show him the way of salvation. Set him free to choose the path of life, and touch and heal the wounds in his body, mind, and spirit.”
Phil was so focused on the urgency of his pleas that he did not see a tear that escaped from John’s eye. Sheila saw it though and drew in her breath, looking over at her mother, who nodded, acknowledging that she, too, had seen it.
A sense of peace flooded Sylvia, and she looked up at Nurse Vivian. Their eyes met and communicated an unspoken, shared experience. Though neither of them could see John or the tear that signaled his response, it seemed they both knew in their spirits that God was at work in that cubicle, and that John would never be the same again. In the spiritual battle for John’s soul, a significant victory had been won. His heart and spirit were opening to God.
Without saying a word, Sylvia rose and walked out of the ICU. Her divine appointment was over.
Michelle and Steve packed their bags and took one last look around the beautiful room they had shared for the weekend. “Let’s remember this place for our anniversary,” he said.
“Good idea,” she replied, resting one knee on the window seat and gazing out over the lake. “Let’s request this room, too. I love this window seat.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Steve said with
a smile.
Michelle realized he was referring to all the time she’d spent sitting there reading. She gave him a mock evil eye and then threw one of the pillows from the window ledge, hitting him squarely in the face. For a brief moment she flashed back to her pillow fight with Trevor in the hotel room and their kiss afterwards. But Steve’s voice brought her back to the present.
“Very funny!” he retorted. “I’ll get you back when you’re not expecting it!”
He walked over and hugged her, but she seemed a little stiff. “I’m just kidding!” he said with a smile.
Michelle’s returned his smile, hoping he hadn’t noticed her blush. “Yeah. Right.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Let’s get this stuff packed and out of here before we have to pay for another night.”
“Good plan,” Steve replied.
After everything was packed, they headed out to the car. Steve did his usual routine of carefully placing each piece in the trunk in a specific and perfect fit.
“Let’s see if they have any cookies left in the sitting room to take with us on the road,” Michelle suggested.
“Okay. You get the cookies, I’ll sign us out,” Steve replied.
They found a plateful of freshly baked oatmeal cookies on the sideboard and the cook gave Michelle a bag to fill for the ride home. Steve paid the bill with cash, thanked the innkeepers, and told them how he and Michelle had really enjoyed staying there.
The drive home was quiet and peaceful, both Steve and Michelle lost in their own private thoughts. Sunshine tickled the leaves of the trees along the highway, and Michelle soaked in the cheerful scene. If only Oregon was sunny more often. It was so beautiful when the sun finally did come out. There was always a freshness in the air that she didn’t remember from Southern California.
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 19
