Ten minutes later, the kids were happily exploring the latest electronic wizardry in the children’s section, clearly visible from the coffee shop, with firm instructions not to venture into the rest of the bookstore. Sherry found an empty corner with two plush chairs and sipped her hot tea, watching Jo fix her cream-and-sugar at a nearby countertop.
“There we are.” Jo settled into a cushiony chair with a contented sigh. “I love this coffee.”
Sherry barely nodded. The silence lengthened as they sipped their drinks.
“So Blake is in the Trinity Chapel School with Brandon? First grade?”
“Yes.”
“Are you married? Have other kids?”
“Yep, I’m Jo Woodward now. My husband’s name is Vance. We met right after college, at our church in New York City, while I was in nursing school. He’s a great guy, I’d love for you to meet him.”
“That would be nice, sometime. So no other kids.”
“Nope, just Blake. But he’s a handful!” Jo leaned forward, perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes gleaming. “Sherry … I know I haven’t seen you in years, so forgive me if I just cut through the polite chitchat and ask you a question. Have you come back to the Lord?”
As Sherry nodded, Jo’s eyes filled with tears. She reached out and gave Sherry a fierce hug, whispering “Praise God!” over and over again. Sherry returned the embrace, and tears filled her own eyes. It had been so long …
Jo released her and gripped one of Sherry’s hands. “You don’t know how long I’ve prayed—” She broke off, her eyes watering again. “I can’t believe it. It’s so awesome of God to let me find this out. I’ve lost touch with your old roommate—does she know?”
Sherry laughed. “Are you kidding? Claire was the first person I called.”
“I’ll bet! So—what happened?”
“Well, you know what happened at school … and everything.” Sherry looked down, and she could feel her face turning red. “When you and the others came to Jesus, I turned further away. I know it makes no sense, but I was so furious and confused, I felt like I had to go against the pack and run as far from God as I could. Claire and I didn’t room together after that first year, and I pretty much spent the rest of college partying and living it up, and … well … you know all about the rest of that.”
“I remember. We were all praying for you, you know.”
“Yeah.” Sherry gave a short laugh. “Claire told me that several times, and I just yelled that I didn’t want any part of her or her God, and to stop praying for me. I’m so glad you all didn’t stop.”
“Me, too.” Jo gave an incredulous shake of her head. “God is so good.”
“So … after all that other stuff that happened, when I graduated I decided to pull it together a bit and move back down here.”
“You’re from Atlanta? I didn’t know that.”
“Well, not from Atlanta but from Georgia. My folks live a few hours away. But I really didn’t want to stay there; no good job prospects. And since Atlanta was the best market, I jumped right in, found a great job in marketing and lived the life of a swinging single woman.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Sherry sighed. “ ‘Oh’ is right. And what was supposed to be so fun just didn’t appeal to me anymore. It was like I was going through the motions. I started to get so lonely, I even began to return Claire’s e-mails. I found myself just wishing God would either kill me or prove to me that He was real.”
“But hadn’t you made a commitment to Christ when you were a teenager?”
“I thought I had, but I went through such a long rebellion it was hard for me to believe any of it anymore. None of my so-called friends or boyfriends bought it, and the only ones I knew who did, were people from college like Claire and you … and Doug.”
“Ah, now were getting to the good part! You’re married to Doug Turner!”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, don’t torture me … how on earth did that happen?”
“Well, I have to tell you how I came to the Lord first. Believe it or not, I finally lost it one night in front of the stupid television. There was a cheesy show by a local pastor, talking about how no matter what we had done, God would forgive us and take us in. He told the story of the prodigal son, and about the transforming power of the father’s nonjudgmental love. I called Claire, sobbing that I wanted to be transformed, that I didn’t want to live this empty, shallow life anymore. She prayed with me on the phone.”
“Oh,” Jo held her hand to her heart, “that must’ve just made her so—”
“She was sobbing, too. I know it sounds stupid, but I was almost as joyful for her as I was for me. I know how much she prayed for me, all those years. The next day, she called me back and told me that I had to get plugged in to a good church, and to Christian friends. So this time, I really did it. I broke off my relationships with the men that I was seeing—”
“Men? Plural?”
Sherry looked sideways. “Does that really surprise you?”
“Uh … no … not really. Sorry.”
“So anyway, I broke off those relationships, and really pulled back from the other friends. I was pretty lonely for a few months, but I knew if I went back to that crowd, I didn’t have the resolve to stay the course. I had no idea how to find a good church, so I called a Christian man that Claire said was also working in Atlanta—our old college buddy, Doug Turner.”
“Oh, now we’re getting to it.”
“So he suggested that I go to his church with him on Sunday.”
“Let me guess—Trinity Chapel?”
“Trinity Chapel. I get plugged in, start growing in my faith, and then I notice that Doug starts looking at me across the sanctuary on Sunday mornings.”
“And the rest is history. What an amazing story.” Suddenly, Jo started and swiveled in her seat. “Oh my gosh, I completely forgot about the kids!”
“They’re fine. See?” Sherry pointed to where the two boys and Genna were squabbling over a book set. “I’ve been keeping an eye on them. So what about you? I didn’t know you were even in Atlanta. You don’t go to our church … do you?”
“No, we don’t, although we love the church’s school for Blake. We go to Good Shepherd Church.”
“Just a couple miles away.”
“That’s the one.”
“I’ve always wondered why some folks who have their kids in our school don’t go to our church.”
Jo swirled the coffee in her cup and studied it closely. “Well … we found a church that fits us better.”
“What do you mean, fits you better?”
“We wanted a church that focused on service. There’s so much need in Atlanta, and it just breaks my heart. The people at Good Shepherd are really loving, and pretty much everyone is involved in the ministry somehow. Our family volunteers downtown a lot. It’s good for Blake, too.”
“Yeah,” Sherry pursed her lips. “Trinity Chapel does some of that, but I don’t think it’s a huge priority.”
“That’s sort of what we felt, too. And Trinity just—Well, never mind.”
“No, what were you going to say?”
Jo looked up. “Let me ask you first: What do you like most about your church?”
“Well … it’s been my first real church, where I’ve learned about my faith. It’s a strong, biblical church.”
“That’s great, obviously. Anything else?”
“The kids like the children’s program, and the pastor is really nice.”
“You’ve made a lot of friends there?”
“Not as much as I’d like. That really would be nice, especially once Genna’s fully in school and I’ve got more time on my hands. But … well … it’s just hard to really connect with people.” Sherry gave a self-conscious shrug. “And there aren’t a whole lot of folks who would understand my past.”
“What does your past have to do with anything?”
Sherry looked up, surprised. “You’ve seen our
church. It’s full of these perfect, happy people who grew up in Christian homes and have walked with the Lord for years. It’s nice to be in that environment—it keeps me on the straight and narrow—but they’d never understand.”
“But everyone’s made mistakes. We’re—”
“Not these folks. I mean, yes, we’re all human, but I’m telling you, these are good Christian people and they’d be shocked.”
“Well, okay, maybe … but you think they wouldn’t accept you?”
“I know they wouldn’t.”
Jo shook her head. “It’s funny you say that. When we moved here, we visited your church two or three times because we really liked the pastor. But we just never connected with anyone at Trinity. It was like everyone was good-looking and well-dressed and had on their ‘happy faces,’ but it just seemed a little … shallow. Sorry if that offends you.”
“Is your church any different? About being surfacey, I mean?”
“Well, last week this guy came forward afterward and cried all over the altar, asking for prayer for his addiction to drugs and illicit sex. And there were quite a few people praying for him. There’s a reason they named our church Good Shepherd, after all.”
“Wow. That would never happen at Trinity. It’s too pristine for that.”
“And that doesn’t seem strange to you?”
“No—it would seem strange to see anything else. I’m telling you, the people at Trinity just don’t have those problems.” Even as she said the words, her brain was turning to the drunk that had stumbled into the food pantry. Maybe that’s because we don’t let them in the door …
She frowned to herself, feeling her defenses rising. “Surely, there are things you would change about Good Shepherd, too, right?”
“Oh, of course.” Jo waved a hand. “Sometimes, I think we get so wrapped up in trying to change the world that we don’t worry about changing hearts. I mean, I know how important it is for people to accept Jesus as Savior and Lord, but I’m not sure everyone in the church does.”
“But, see! That’s the whole point behind a church. What’s the good of having a loving church if it’s not preaching the gospel and getting people saved?”
Jo didn’t respond for a second. When she did speak, she looked at Sherry directly, her voice tight.
“I could ask a reverse question—what’s the point of having a Bible-teaching church if all the saved people just stay in their holy huddle and don’t follow Jesus’ command to get out in the darkness and love ‘the least of these’ in His name? The book of James wonders whether such people are even Christians at all.”
“Well, at least we’re preaching the Word.”
“Well, at least we’re living it out.”
The two women stared at each other, tense. Then suddenly, their lips twitched and they started laughing.
“What an argument!” Jo said. “I’m sure Jesus is rolling his eyes right now. I’m sorry. I just get a bee in my bonnet about the whole social justice thing, and sometimes I don’t know when to stop.”
Sherry shook her head. “No, you make some great points. I think we should be concentrating more on caring for the ‘widows and orphans.’ ” She chuckled. “I’ve got it—let’s solve this problem in one fell swoop by giving all the standoffish Christians a glimpse of earthly life without money and giving all the loving pew-sitters a glimpse of eternal life without Jesus!”
She looked beyond the coffee shop railing to check on the kids, and gave a start. “Where’d they go?”
“What do you mean?” Jo’s eyes widened and she jumped to her feet. “I’m sure they’re here somewhere.”
The two women hurried back to the children’s section. No Brandon, Blake, or Genna. No kids at all, in fact.
“Where’d they all go?” Jo was looking around, her voice tight. “There were ten kids in here just a few—”
Giggles sounded from the other side of the bookstore, back toward the coffee shop. They wove their way among ranks of bookshelves and arrived at a sunken reading area. The floor was littered with children. A puppeteer was reading a book and acting out the story with a series of hand puppets.
Brandon, Blake, and Genna were seated near the back. A teenage girl was sitting beside them, her eyes watchful.
Sherry turned to see a well-dressed woman come around the corner at brisk speed, followed closely by the store’s manager. She stopped abruptly when she saw Sherry.
“Oh, there you are.”
“Hi, Melanie.” Sherry turned to Jo, who had gone to hug her son. “Jo, I’d like you to meet Melanie, from my church.” She looked back toward the manager. “What’s going on?”
Melanie shook Jo’s outstretched hand, then pressed her hand to her chest. “Well, dear, your kids were unsupervised, so of course I called the manager.”
“These your kids?” the manager asked.
Sherry and Jo nodded.
“Please don’t leave them alone in the store again.”
Jo put her hands on her hips. “We didn’t. We were just a few feet away, in your coffee shop.”
“Still, I’d urge you to use greater caution next time. These days, vigilance is always warranted.” He turned to Melanie. “Has the situation been resolved to your satisfaction, ma’am?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you for your kind help.”
Sherry tried to contain her annoyance as the manager disappeared around the corner. “You reported us to the manager?”
“Well, dear, I recognized sweet little Brandon and Genna, and didn’t see you anywhere. So when all the other kids trooped over to the puppet show, I had my daughter bring them over here to keep an eye on them.”
“But we gave them strict instructions to stay in the children’s section, where we could see them,” Jo said.
Melanie looked over the top of her small glasses. “Well, sorry, dear, but I didn’t know you were there.”
“Well, thank you so much for looking after our children,” Jo said. “We really appreciate it.”
Melanie inclined her head. “Perhaps next time you can bring your coffee over to the children’s section.”
“Perhaps we’ll just do that.”
Once Melanie and her daughter were out of sight, Jo let out an explosive exclamation under her breath.
“Sorry about that,” Sherry said.
“No problem. Oy. How do you stand that?”
Sherry drove back home, her windshield wipers working overtime against the sudden winter rain. Somewhere in her purse, she could hear her cell phone ringing. She jerked to a stop at a light and fished it out.
“Hello?”
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Doug!” Sherry smiled as she pulled away from the light. “I miss you. Are you okay? I missed your call earlier. We had the field trip.”
“Yes, I’m fine. I miss you, too.” Doug’s voice sounded hushed. “I’m in the middle of meetings, but we just took a short break. I thought I’d try to get you since by the time we’re done tonight it’ll be too late to call.”
“I’m so glad you did. Are your meetings going okay?”
“They’re fine. Some challenges, as usual.”
“Is Jordan pushing you too hard? Don’t let him push you around.”
“It’s fine, Sherry. You have to stop worrying about that. I won’t let him push me around.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“Well, I just thought I’d touch base—”
“You’re not going to believe who I just ran into!”
No response. She could hear him talking quietly to someone. After a second, he came back on. “Sorry about that. The meeting’s reconvening. What was that you said?”
“I said you’re not going to believe who I just ran into today.”
“Who was that?”
“Jo Markowitz, from school.”
“No kidding? That’s amazing. I can’t wait to hear about it.”
“But not right now, right?”
“Sorry, honey.”
“Tha
t’s okay. Have a good rest of your meeting.”
Doug tossed his car keys on the nightstand, loosened his tie, and sat on the bed. He reached to pick up the phone. Room service wasn’t his favorite option, but he just didn’t have the energy to go to a restaurant.
He puttered around the room, changed into sweats, and spent a few minutes organizing various documents from the day’s meetings. The food arrived with unusual speed, and he sat on the bed, watching the news and trying not to cram every bite into his mouth at the same time.
When he was done, he pushed the room service tray aside, collapsed back into the pillows and picked up the remote control.
The screen came alive with the opening credits of another first-run movie. As he watched, half-seeing, his mind did a guilty gallop around the steamy scenes from the previous night’s film. Several images of that actress had stayed with him all day, despite his halfhearted attempts to push them away.
Discordant music interrupted his thoughts, and he watched the screen more closely. This was a recent horror movie. He made a face. No thanks. He should just call the front desk and ask them to turn the pay-TV system off
I wonder if …
No.
Just check … what’s the harm?
No. Pick up the phone and tell the front desk to turn it off.
I wonder if …
He pressed a movie station button once, then twice, then three times. At the fourth click he stopped.
The flickering images pulled at something deep within him. He knew he should change the channel, but the screen filled his tired senses, his burdened mind. He laid the remote beside him on the bed, and lay down his resolve.
THIRTEEN
Doug awoke in the hotel room, feeling dirty. Shame washed over him as his mind leapt to the images of the last night. It wasn’t fair to Sherry. He loved her. He loved her.
He went to take a shower, his steps leaden. As he passed the silent television, he tried to push back the alluring images in his brain. All the way through his shower, all the way through breakfast. Again and again, the struggle. Over his cereal, he read the paper without really seeing the words.
He retreated to his room, the television looming large near the bed.
The Lights of Tenth Street Page 11
