A Time to Dance

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Somewhere someone probably got themselves a ten-thousand-dollar video moment.” Joe slapped his own knee this time, and the group laughed hard again.

  “Oooooeeee.” John shook his head and exhaled long and hard. “That was something else all right.”

  Joe wiped a tear from his eyes. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years.” He shook his head. “And the thing about it is, to this day, Abby can laugh at it, too.”

  Kenny got control of himself. “Yeah, that’s the best thing about Abby. She doesn’t take herself too seriously.”

  “Where is she, anyway? She should have been out here to tell us how it felt.” Sal exhaled, still trying to catch his breath as he looked around the room.

  A stabbing feeling cut into John’s gut and erased all the silliness of a moment earlier. But before he could answer, Nicole walked up and grinned at them. “Okay, what’s all the commotion over here?”

  Joe shoved John in the shoulder. “Your dad was telling us about the Sea World trip . . . you know, the actual ‘trip.’ When your mom made a splash at the sea lion show.”

  “Yeah, good thing Sean was on Dad’s back, huh?” Nicole giggled and shook her head. “Poor Mom, we’ll be telling that story until she’s old and gray. At least she wasn’t hurt.”

  Nicole wandered back across the room to her group of friends, and the guys began talking all at once. John felt suddenly sick to his stomach, Nicole’s words punched around at his insides like perfectly delivered blows.

  “Until she’s old and gray . . . until she’s old and gray.”

  The wife of his youth, his best friend and lifelong companion, would not grow old and gray with him. No, she would be married to someone else by then, spending the rest of her life with another man. In fact, there would be no stories about Abby in the years to come, no regaling the crowd with stories of how she’d talked herself out of a speeding ticket or burned the sweet potatoes on Thanksgiving Day. If he was honest with himself, the story he’d just told was probably the last he’d ever tell about his precious Abby girl. Once they were divorced, what sense would it make to sit around with the guys recalling the good times with Abby, the funny moments that no one in their family would ever forget.

  And Charlene . . . well, John was fairly sure she wouldn’t see the humor in their family memories anyway.

  Abby managed to spend the first hour of the party in the kitchen, chatting with a number of Nicole’s friends as they passed through. Dad had wanted to join them at the house but his nurses said the excitement would be too much for him. Instead Nicole and Matt had promised him a visit after church the next day. Abby stared out the window at Matt and his buddies anchored around a picnic table on the covered back porch. She felt the corners of her lips lift slightly. She liked Matt. He was strong and intelligent. There was a gentleness about him when he was with Nicole that told Abby he’d make a wonderful father. I pray it lasts. Don’t ever let the years get away from you, Matt . . .

  It was the first weekend in March, and though spring hadn’t officially arrived, the thunderstorm that was blowing over assured them it was coming.

  It won’t be long now. Four months and the charade will be over.

  She was alone in the kitchen freshening up the food platters when she heard John and his friends laughing in the family room. At first the sound made Abby angry. He’s sounding a bit too happy out there, God. Isn’t he hurting even a little?

  Easing herself closer to the door she caught pieces of the conversation. Sea lion show . . . halfway down the stairs . . . tumbling . . . like a turtle.

  They were talking about the Sea World trip some ten years ago. By herself with no one to fool, tears filled Abby’s eyes as a smile played on her lips. How long had it been since they’d laughed together over that story? And why was John telling it now?

  She moved away, leaning against the refrigerator, eyes closed, heart thudding against her ribs. God, how can we do this to each other? Why don’t I go out there and laugh with him, sit with him. Love him again?

  Love never fails, daughter. Love never ends.

  Well, it has for us, so now what, Lord? Where do we go from here?

  It had been months, years even, since she’d held a discussion with God, allowed His thoughts to permeate her own, and given herself permission to respond. But now, tonight, with a house full of people she loved more than any in the world, she was desperate for answers.

  I’m waiting, God. Tell me. What are we supposed to do next? I need real help here, Lord.

  Silence.

  Abby hesitated a beat, then wiped her tears. Fine. If God wasn’t going to talk to her she’d just have to make her way alone. It wouldn’t be the first time. For all intents and purposes, she’d been alone since the day Charlene Denton set her sights on John.

  Let he who is without sin cast the first—

  That’s not the answer I want . . . Abby spun around and forced herself to think of something else. She had guests to tend to, after all. This was no time to be wading knee-deep in guilt, not while everyone else was having a good time. John was the one to blame for the mess they were in, and she wouldn’t let anyone tell her differently.

  Not even God Himself.

  The last of the guests were gone, and Nicole was stacking their opened gifts neatly in the middle of the coffee table. The boys and Matt were in Kade’s room playing Nintendo, and Dad had turned in early. Only Mom was awake, but after finishing the dishes she’d excused herself to the office to finish up an article.

  The party had been a huge success, giving Nicole and Matt time with their closest friends and family. There had been laughter and shared memories and good times for everyone until well after ten o’clock. But Nicole couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  Deeply wrong.

  She sat on the edge of the coffee table and slipped one leg over the other. God, what is it? What am I feeling?

  The image of her parents came to mind, and she realized she hadn’t seen them together once during the evening. Is everything okay between them, Lord? Are they in some kind of trouble?

  Pray, daughter. The prayer of a righteous one is powerful and effective.

  The answer was swift and almost audible. God wanted her to pray—but for her parents? Why on earth would they need prayer? Were they having money troubles, maybe? Was the wedding costing them more than they could afford?

  Oh, Lord, my heart feels troubled beyond words. Father, be with my parents and bring them to a place of togetherness. I’m afraid . . . I didn’t see them near each other tonight and . . . well, maybe I’m just looking too hard, but I get the strongest feeling something’s wrong. Maybe money or something. I don’t know. Please, Father, surround them both with Your angels and protect them from the evil one and his terrible schemes. Where there’s stress, calm them; where there’s misunderstanding, clear it up. And use me, Lord, however You might, to help make things right. If they’re wrong, that is.

  She finished her prayer and studied the closed office door. Without hesitating she stood and made her way across the room, knocking once before turning the handle and easing herself inside. “Whatcha doing?”

  Her mother looked up quickly, then stared briefly at the computer screen and clicked twice.

  “Good-bye.” The computer announced.

  “I was . . . just checking my e-mail.” Her mother smiled in a way that seemed a little too happy and turned her chair so that she faced Nicole.

  Why did she look so nervous? “Hey, Mom . . . is everything okay? With you and Dad, I mean?” Nicole studied her mother, looking for signs that things might actually be worse than she imagined. Like maybe they were in a fight or something. In all her years growing up, Nicole could remember maybe three times when her parents had fought. Always it had been the most unnerving feeling she’d ever encountered. Her parents were like two rocks, the people everyone looked to when they wanted to know how a marriage was supposed to work.

  The last time her parents had even r
aised their voices at each other was years ago, wasn’t it? Nicole waited for her mother’s response, aware that her own fingers were trembling.

  “Yes, of course. Everything’s great.” Her mother angled her head, her features knotted up curiously. “What made you ask, sweetheart?”

  Nicole swallowed hard, not sure if she should voice her concerns. “I didn’t see you guys together all night, you know? It seemed kinda strange.”

  Her mother laughed once. “Honey, there were so many people here. Every time I started out to join your father, someone else came in to talk or brought me another food tray to fill. The night got away from us, that’s all.”

  A warm feeling came over Nicole, and her whole body relaxed. It had just been her imagination after all.

  The prayer of a righteous one is powerful and effective. Pray, daughter. Pray.

  An alarm sounded again in Nicole’s heart. Why was the Lord giving her thoughts like that if everything was okay? She cleared her mind and stared hard at her mother. “You’re telling me the truth, right, Mom? This isn’t about money or anything? The last thing I want to do is make things hard on you and Daddy.”

  Abby uttered a quiet chuckle. “Sweetheart, when your Grandpa Reynolds passed away he left us plenty of money. Believe me, getting you married is not causing us any financial worries at all.”

  Nicole leaned her weight on one hip and surveyed her mother’s face. “Honest? Everything’s okay?”

  A flash of something shadowy and dark crossed her mother’s eyes, then just as quickly disappeared. “I told you, honey. Everything’s fine.”

  Nicole reached out and took hold of her mother’s fingers. “Come on, I wanna show you the goods.”

  Her mom stood up slowly and stretched. “I looked at them once already, Nick.”

  “I know, but I’ve got it all organized. You know, blenders and toasters on one side of the table, sentimental gifts on the other side.”

  “Oh, all right.” Mom smiled and hugged her as they walked into the living room side by side. “Lead the way.”

  They were only partway there when Nicole stopped and held her mother tighter. “Thanks for the Bible, Mom.” She pulled away, looking deep into her mother’s eyes once more. “It’s my favorite gift of all.”

  “Good. Keep it that way and you and Matt will spend the next fifty years in love. Mark my words, honey.”

  Nicole smiled and linked elbows with her mother, moving happily beside her as they found the gifts in the center of the family room. They studied each item and chatted about the party and the coming wedding, Nicole knew that the prompting she’d felt from the Lord to pray for her parents was a good thing. Even the strongest couples needed prayer. But Mom and Dad were fine. Nicole felt certain that her strange feelings of concern were nothing more than an overactive imagination.

  That and a good case of engagement anxiety.

  Sixteen

  DENNY CONLEY WAS TOO NEW AT THIS CHRISTIAN thing to know where else to go. He only knew he had a lot on his mind, and only one Person he wanted to share it with. Besides, taking his troubles to the Lord late at night like this had become something of a routine.

  Denny knew one thing for sure: it beat the old routine, hopping from bar to bar and wondering every morning how in the world he’d made it home.

  The church was small, not like the big chapels closer to the city. And that Monday night in late March it was almost pitch dark inside. Denny had a key because he’d been doing janitorial chores for them lately, and he kept it on his personal key ring, right next to the one that opened his apartment.

  Quietly, so that even the church cat wouldn’t be bothered, Denny made his way to the front row and eased himself into a pew. Like he’d done a dozen times in the past few months, he stared in awe at the life-size wooden cross.

  Denny had been raised Catholic and he’d seen his share of crosses. Crucifixes, really. The kind where a pained-looking Jesus hung from shiny brass beams. Nothing wrong with crucifixes except they put the focus on the suffering.

  Sometimes that was a good thing, remembering the Lord’s pain. In fact, it had been after coming home drunk one night a few months earlier that Denny had spotted the crucifix on his bedroom wall and moved in for a closer look. Was it true? Had an innocent man named Jesus really hung on a cross like that and died for Denny Conley’s sins? He found it hard to believe. Why in the world would someone do something like that? For a person like him, no less?

  By then it had been four years since his son had gone and found this personal relationship thing with God. It was all Matt ever talked about back then. Golly, it was all he talked about still. But Denny’s encounter with the crucifix happened on a night weeks after the last time he’d talked to the boy. Denny had been wobbly and ready to pass out from the whiskey, but something in the way that Jesus hung there—taking all that pain and not complaining about it—all so people like Denny and Matt could make it to heaven.

  Well, something about that was almost more than Denny could bear.

  The next day he looked up churches in the phone book and found him a nice community-sized one with a picture of a friendly looking man named Pastor Mark. Denny had stopped in that afternoon and met with the guy, and sure enough, Pastor Mark told him the same thing Matt had been saying from the get-go. Jesus died all on His own, regardless of whether you were a good person or a bad person or some drunk hopping bars, halfway in-between. Either way, it was up to Denny to accept the gift of heaven or walk away from it and keep living life on his own.

  Denny remembered the decision better than he remembered almost any other detail of his life. He had made some awful mistakes in the past. Walked away from Jo when Matt was just a little tyke, married another woman, and spent two decades drinking his life away. That night, drunker than a skunk, he was single again and looking for offers.

  Never, though, had he been offered anything like what Pastor Mark offered him that afternoon. Eternal life. Already paid for. And all he had to do was ask Jesus to forgive him of his past sins and then grab hold of the gift that was already his for the taking.

  It was too much to bear, really. An offer Denny simply couldn’t refuse. He asked Christ into his life that night, and the change in his heart was almost instant. First thing he did when he got home was phone Matt.

  “Your old man’s a believer, Matt. Just like you.”

  There was a pause, and Denny wasn’t sure but he thought Matt was crying a little on the other end. That conversation had been only the beginning. They’d talked more in the last few months than all their years combined, but they still hadn’t seen each other. Not once since Denny had walked out on him and Jo, back when the boy was four years old. Matt had wanted to see him after Denny’s first phone call, but Denny hadn’t wanted the boy to see him drunk. And back then there weren’t many days . . . well, there weren’t many hours when Denny wasn’t stone-flat plastered.

  But the day he began believin’, Denny believed for something else, too. He believed that if God could raise Jesus Christ from the dead, He could certainly deliver Denny Conley from the demons of alcoholism.

  Denny smiled up at the cross. It had been four months since then, twenty-four church services and fifty meetings with a Twelve-Step group designed to help break the addiction of drinking. He was gaining weight, losing the ruddy complexion he’d developed during the years of drinking. In fact, he might almost be ready to see Matt. Every day, every hour, found him clean and sober. And it was all because of Christ.

  Which brought him to his current prayer, the one that had been drawing him to church late at night, the one he’d been laying directly at the foot of the cross. It was a prayer for Jo’s salvation. Denny knew from Matt that his mother was cynical about the whole Jesus thing. She was probably bitter and angry and frustrated at having lived a lifetime as a single mother. It wasn’t going to be easy for her to accept the truth.

  That Denny Conley was a new man.

  Denny sighed. Something about the coming wedd
ing made the whole thing seem more urgent. He was going, after all. Sure as the sky was blue, he was going to be in church when his son married that young bride of his. And if God heard him good, he was going to take a few minutes and talk heart to heart with Jo.

  Then maybe, just maybe . . .

  Denny bowed his head and closed his eyes. “Lord, my Jo’s hurting right now because of me . . . and because she doesn’t know You yet. She needs to, Lord. But . . . well, I’m not really the one to tell her, know what I mean? I hurt her pretty bad all those years ago and I’m awful sorry. You know that and I know it. But Jo . . . she thinks this whole Jesus thing is just a phase. Maybe my way of connecting with Matt after so much time’s gone by between us.

  “Anyway, God, You know what I mean. Reach down and touch Jo’s heart, Father. Make her feel uneasy so that nothing gives her peace except You. Save her, Lord. And work it out so the two of us can have a talkin’ to. Together, I mean, maybe at the wedding somehow. Make her ready to see me, God. Please.” He thought for a minute. “I guess what I’m askin’ for, Father, is a miracle for Jo. Just like the miracle You gave me and Matt.” He hesitated. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  When he was finished praying, he let his eyes linger on the cross awhile longer, grateful that Jesus no longer hung there but that He lived, that He was alive forevermore. With his gaze still upward, his thoughts on his Savior, Denny did the same thing he always did after these prayer times.

  He sang.

  Pastor told him the song had been around for more than a hundred years, but it was brand new to Denny Conley. As far as he was concerned it could have been written for him alone. Like the hesitant notes from a dusty piano, Denny’s voice rang out and lifted to an audience of One. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t carry a tune or if the cat woke up and thought he was crazy. All Denny cared about was the song.