Unlocked

by Karen Kingsbury

  Her mother was making an egg-white omelet, and she stopped, the color fading from her cheeks. “You’re going to church?”

  “Yes.” Ella resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It wouldn’t be very nice to make a mockery of her mother on the way out the door to church. Besides, her mother managed to do that all on her own. “Holden wants me to go.”

  “Holden?” Again her mom took the news like a physical blow. “I thought he couldn’t talk.”

  “Mom,” Ella remembered to feel sorry for her. She thought about all the times her mother didn’t hug her and didn’t ask about her day or what she was involved in. She still didn’t know about the spring musical. Ella found a reluctant smile. “Not all communication happens with words.”

  She waited a minute—just in case her mom might smile or say she understood or ask to come along. Something to show she cared. But she only remained motionless, her expression flat. Ella tried not to feel hurt. “Well … see you later.” With that she hurried out the door and ten minutes later she walked through the doors of Holden’s church. She took a seat near the back and stared at the wooden cross that hung on the main wall. From conversations with Holden’s mother Ella knew there was a time when her own family attended church every week. In her struggle to understand what had gone wrong with her parents, the fact that they’d stopped going to church seemed like at least one clear reason.

  From what Ella could tell, when her parents stopped attending church, they stopped believing. She and her brothers hadn’t been taught about God or praying or eternity—none of it. And she’d never imagined the other idea Mrs. Harris had talked about —having a relationship with Jesus —a friendship. As she sat down, she remembered her last phone call with Holden’s mother.

  “For me, I talk to Him throughout the day, and He talks to me.”

  “He talks to you?”

  “Not out loud.” Mrs. Harris laughed. She was such a nice lady, so patient with Ella. So caring. “But He talks to us through Scripture —through the Bible. And sometimes you’ll hear His truth in your heart and you’ll know—you’ll absolutely know it’s Him. Talking to you, and walking you through a difficult time. Giving you wisdom and direction.”

  If anyone should know it would be Mrs. Harris. So the decision to come to church was an easy one. Finding a friendship with the God of the universe, and knowing that this same mighty God wanted a friendship with her in return? Even if Holden hadn’t wanted her to come, she was interested. She’d been thinking about it for weeks now.

  Holden and his mother arrived, and the three of them moved to a row near the front. As they took their seats, Mrs. Harris leaned over Holden—who was sitting between them—and grinned at Ella. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” Before she turned her attention to the people singing at the front, Holden caught her eye. The way he’d done a number of times now. Ella smiled, and before he looked away, Holden did the same thing.

  The message was on being a living sacrifice, letting your life shine in such a way that it brought glory to God. By way of illustration, the pastor—Pastor Jeff —had arranged for something he called an altar to be brought into the church. It looked like a large slab of stone and it sat on six sturdy stone legs.

  “It’s not about the altar, the outside, the face we put on for others.” Pastor Jeff was kind, his words and message clear. “It’s about the sacrifice. What are you doing for God? How are you bringing Him glory?”

  Ella thought about the years when she’d lived in the shadows of the cool kids, the mean crowd. She hadn’t known God, but she’d known the truth about her group of friends. The way they treated other kids was terrible. She never should have hung out with them.

  So what about now, she wondered. Am I living in a way to bring You glory, God? Am I doing enough so that You’ll love me?

  I love you, my daughter … you can’t earn my love.

  The thought fell over her like a gentle rain, and Ella sat back in the pew. Was this what Holden’s mother meant? She certainly hadn’t imagined the answer, but she hadn’t heard an audible voice, either. You love me, God? Even though I never really thought about You until lately?

  The answer didn’t come again, but the memory of it did. He loved her. She could do nothing to change His love, nothing to earn it. But she could try to understand Him better, and she could figure out exactly what it meant to be a Christian—to live the way Mrs. Harris and Holden lived.

  At the end of the talk, Pastor Jeff called up a small boy, impish and darling with dimples and dirty blond hair. He wore jeans and a plaid flannel shirt and as soon as he was up on the stage, Pastor Jeff grinned at him. “Hi, buddy.” He turned to the audience. “This is TJ. He’s six years old and he’s my one and only son.” Pastor Jeff stooped down to the boy’s level and for a long moment the two grinned at each other and the boy whispered something. His dad laughed, enjoying the private, father-son moment.

  The sort of moment Ella couldn’t remember ever having with her father.

  Next to her, Holden folded his hands and brought them up to his chin. He wasn’t looking straight at the scene playing out on the stage, but he was interested. Ella could tell. Maybe he misses his dad, too, she thought. For the first time she realized that they had that in common, she and Holden. In all the ways that mattered, they’d both lost their dads.

  Pastor Jeff looked at the crowd again. “I love my son more than anything in this world.” His eyes shone, his emotion full and rich. “I would do anything for this boy.” He stood and motioned to TJ. “Okay, buddy. Go ahead.”

  With that, the child made a small jump to the stone altar. Then he lay down flat at the center of the stone table, his littleboy feet wiggling while he tried to stay still. Beside him, Holden raised his elbows and started moving them up and down just a little.

  “It’s okay,” Ella whispered near his ear. “The boy’s okay, Holden.”

  His arms stopped moving, but he kept his hands folded near his chin.

  “I love my son so much.” Pastor Jeff’s voice was tight. “If God asked me to sacrifice him, the way He asked Abraham to sacrifice Isaac …” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what I would say.” The pastor looked at his son, and everyone in the room did the same thing.

  Ella heard people around her shifting to see better. She hoped the sounds wouldn’t bother Holden. She patted his hand, just so he’d know she was there.

  Pastor Jeff smiled at his son. “Okay, TJ, you can get up.”

  The boy scrambled to his feet and grinned big as he hopped back to his place beside his father. The pastor hugged him and roughed up his hair a little. Then he stood again, his arm still around the boy’s shoulders. “The most amazing thing about God is that He won’t ever ask us to do that. He didn’t ask it of Abraham, and He won’t ask it of you.” He paused, and again the emotion in the room was powerful. Soft utterances of amen came from all around. “That’s because God did it for us. He took his one and only son and laid Him down for us. And Jesus went to the cross willingly out of love for you and me.” Pastor Jeff looked at the altar again. “So what is it in your life that you need to lay down? It’s not your son—that’s already been done. But maybe it’s your time or your talents … your treasure. You have one chance to let your lives be a sacrifice for God. Let’s start today.”

  Ella sat up straighter. Suddenly the message was perfectly clear. God didn’t just love her from a distance. He loved her enough to call upon His one and only son and give Him up for her. It was a sort of love Ella had never imagined, let alone experienced. I want to know more, God … Help me learn so I can follow You. It was a beginning, Ella could feel it in her heart. The faith these people had, the faith of Holden and his mother—that’s what Ella wanted too.

  Pastor Jeff prayed, and Holden once more started moving his elbows and in a single instant —like a light bulb turning on —Ella understood. Holden was praying! When he brought his hands together near his chin and moved his arms, he was talking to God
! Which meant … which meant Holden talked to God all the time, for all sorts of reasons. The understanding filled her heart. She could hardly wait to talk to Holden’s mother. She pictured all the times she’d seen Holden do this same motion. If she was right, Holden prayed when kids were mean, and he prayed when his friends walked off the bus. Of course he prayed. The special-needs kids needed all the prayer they could get, right?

  Tears filled her eyes at the kindness of the friend beside her. Ella had been surrounded by people who called themselves friends all her life. But never had any of them been as genuine as Holden. She thought of another time when he prayed. When their drama class sang about killing the Beast. Every time they sang that song Holden folded his hands and flapped his elbows. Maybe he was worried about the villagers. She thought about that for a few seconds and realized that couldn’t be it. The villagers were on the attack in that song.

  So maybe he was worried about the Beast. The misunderstood creature whose outward appearance gave no indication of the kind-hearted being inside. The possibility moved her even more, Holden’s compassion and inner understanding washing over her.

  When the service ended, after they’d talked to a few people and when Ella and Holden and his mother were back outside near the cars, Ella’s heart was still warm with the realization about Holden praying.

  “Thanks for inviting me.” Ella hugged Holden’s mom, and the feeling went all the way through her. It was hard to believe Mrs. Harris and her mother ever could’ve been best friends. They were so different. Ella smiled. “I want to know more about following Jesus. Maybe you could help me.”

  “I’d love that.” Holden’s mom looked happy. Like her eyes were windows to her soul.

  Holden looked at the ground and nodded. “Jesus loves me, this I know …”

  “He’s singing …” His mother’s eyes glistened, her words a shocked whisper. “I can’t believe he’s singing.” She looked at Ella. “That was your song, the one the two of you sang most often.”

  She wished the tune sounded familiar, but it didn’t. “He hasn’t sung it to me before.”

  “Maybe because you’re here.” Mrs. Harris grinned.

  Ella wasn’t sure if she should talk about the prayer thing in front of Holden, but then she didn’t think he would mind. He might even appreciate that finally he was being understood. “I think I figured something out.” She looped her purse up onto her shoulder. The air was cool, but the sweet Georgia sky was wide and clear the way it often was in mid-November. “About Holden?”

  “Yes.” She moved her elbows a few times. “You know when he does that, when he has his hands up by his chin and he moves his arms?”

  “It’s a sign of over-stimulation. Like the push-ups.” Mrs. Harris knit her brow. “I’ve never really figured out a pattern. To be honest he does it more at school than at home.”

  “Exactly.” Ella smiled at Holden, and then back to his mother. “When he does that, I think he’s praying. I could tell when I was sitting by him.”

  “I’ve thought about that, but … well …” Her joy cooled some. “The kids at school … they make fun of him.” A shadow fell over her eyes. “His actions seem more of a self-defense.”

  Ella looked from Holden to his mother. “Maybe it’s both.”

  “… for the Bible tells me so.” Holden’s song was quiet and hurried. He stared at the pavement.

  “Both?” Sorrow and confusion blurred together in Mrs. Harris’ expression. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Maybe he prays for them … and also in self-defense.” The more Ella considered the possibility, the more real it became. “It makes sense, right? Holden praying when he feels anxious or nervous.”

  His mom let that sink in for a long moment. She moved closer to Holden. “Is that what you do, Holden? Do you pray for people? Do you pray for your classmates?”

  Holden stopped singing. He moved in quick, jerky steps to his mother’s car, opened the passenger door, and removed his deck of PECS cards. He sorted through them and finally pulled one from the deck and flashed it in their direction. The picture was of a clock, and beneath it were the words “Every Hour.”

  Every hour! Ella put her hand to her mouth, but not before a quiet cry escaped her. She and Holden’s mother exchanged a look, and Ella wasn’t sure if the woman was going to break down crying or laugh out loud. This was the behavior Holden most often demonstrated, and now they understood why.

  Holden didn’t walk around acting like a crazy person without reason. He was praying. Today he had prayed for the little boy whose precious demonstration in church told them that the price for salvation was paid in full. Holden couldn’t talk, and he could barely make eye contact. But he could do this one thing for the people in trouble around him. The exact thing Ella had only just started doing. He could pray. For the bullying jocks and his handicapped friends, and the worn-out teachers.

  And yes, even for the Beast.

  Twenty-Two

  FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS ELLA WAS DRAWN TO HOLDEN, desperate to know his thoughts and hopes and dreams. Because after understanding about Holden’s constant prayers, Ella was sure they’d only begun to understand the beautiful soul locked inside Holden Harris.

  One afternoon before the other kids arrived at the theater room, Holden found her alone on the stage running lines. Mr. Hawkins was in his office, and class didn’t officially begin for ten minutes. Holden must’ve finished his previous class early, because he and a teacher’s aide showed up in the doorway.

  “He’s early.” The woman looked anxious to be on her way. “I’ll stay if you need me to.”

  Ella studied Holden, the way he directed his eyes everywhere but at the teacher’s aide or at her. She smiled at the woman. “You can go.” She held her spot on the stage. “I’m his friend. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  As soon as the word friend crossed Ella’s lips, Holden’s agitation eased. He looked at her, straight at her, and he nodded. The moment didn’t last. Holden looked away and then shuffled to his seat near the back of the room. Same seat, same exact spot for his backpack. But he did something different today. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his attention on the stage. Not her, but the stage.

  He wants to perform, Ella told herself. She walked a few steps to the boom box set up on a nearby stool and hit the Play button. Music filled the room and Holden sat up straighter, his chest full, face peaceful. As if he were getting his first fresh air all day.

  Ella found her place on stage and began on cue. The song was one Belle sang after being locked in the castle by the Beast, a song about trying to find home inside her heart.

  Holden stood up slowly and looked at her, straight at her.

  Ella continued singing. She turned her song, her performance, entirely toward him.

  They were still alone, the other kids still minutes from joining them. As the song began to build Holden walked slowly to the front of the room and climbed easily up onto the stage beside her. She was too stunned to do anything but keep singing, keep playing the role of Belle.

  But now Holden was quietly singing along, and as the song reached the end, Ella somehow forgot the words, too caught up in watching the miracle play out before her. Holden wasn’t only singing, he was singing in perfect pitch, his voice rich and melodic and … well, breathtaking. And finally the room filled with the sound and Ella could do nothing but watch in wondrous awe. Holden’s performance was worthy of any audience, and Ella felt weak at the knees as she took it in.

  Especially the song’s last few lines. “Build higher walls around me …” Holden’s blue eyes pierced her heart, her soul. He kept singing, every word and note perfect. “My heart’s far, far away … home and free.”

  Ella wanted the song to keep playing, but after a few bars, the music faded. Without breaking eye contact with Holden, Ella hit the Off button and stared at him. “Holden … that was beautiful.”

  His performance was so real, so convincing, that Ella expect
ed him to answer her like any other kid, like maybe suddenly and completely he was back to normal. But as soon as the music stopped, Holden stiffened and began wringing his hands. He looked down, rocking slightly, his eyes glued to the repetitive motions of his fingers.

  “Holden?”

  He put both hands over his ears and jumped awkwardly off the stage. Before he reached his seat at the back of the room, he dropped to the floor and peeled off a couple dozen push-ups. Then he sat down, opened his backpack, and frantically grabbed for his flash cards.

  “Holden …” Mr. Hawkins slipped into the room. His face was ashen, his eyes wide. “That was amazing.”

  “You heard him … I’m glad.” Ella was still standing on the stage, still too amazed by what she’d witnessed to move or speak or do anything but stare in wonder at Holden. She turned to her teacher. “He was standing up here performing.” She smiled even as tears filled her eyes. “I couldn’t believe it.”

  If Mr. Hawkins hadn’t heard Holden’s song, Ella was sure he wouldn’t have believed her. She looked at Holden again. He was staring straight down at the flash cards, silently rocking, utterly oblivious to the students starting to file into the room.

  “Maybe he’ll do it again.” Mr. Hawkins’ face was curious, as if he had to see for himself. He walked slowly toward the back of the room.

  “Mr. Hawkins.” Ella hopped down off the stage and followed him. “Be careful,” she whispered so only her teacher could hear her. “He might not want to do it again.”

  The other kids didn’t notice the drama playing out with Ella and Mr. Hawkins and Holden. Their voices provided a cushion of sound, so Holden wouldn’t be put on the spot, whatever Mr. Hawkins was going to say. The teacher reached Holden and stopped a few feet away. “Holden … can you hear me?”

  Holden didn’t look up. He kept rocking, sifting the flash cards a little faster than before.

  “You have a very nice voice, Holden.” Ella stepped up and put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. But the touch made him recoil and again he put his hands to his ears. Ella withdrew her hand, but his reaction hurt. What was that on the stage? Hadn’t they shared something special? A moment from the past, maybe? She crossed her arms tight in front of her. “Never mind.” She motioned to Mr. Hawkins. “If he wants to perform, he’ll let us know.”