A New Day

by Nancy Hopper

  Tasha felt a strange tug at her heart. She’d once been a part of something like this. She’d once sang along with everyone else, and felt the Lord’s touch. She’d once been Gary’s wife ...

  She put her fingers to her eyes, and willed herself not to cry. She could not and she would not! She looked up at Tim and saw him with eyes closed, just drinking in the atmosphere, drinking it in.

  Tasha felt the presence of the Lord fall on Tim and hover there, mixing with his spirit. He was a genuine article, Timothy Rain. He knew the Lord. Tasha drew away in fear and astonishment. There was something about what was taking place with Tim, that reminded her a great deal of Gary. That feeling was most unwelcome.

  It didn’t take long before people began dancing in the aisles. It was a like a party, and everyone was participating except Tasha. She didn’t care. She was simply trying to maintain.

  She couldn’t open that door again – she’d crack up, if she did. Behind that door was Gary. And behind that door was her heart. But she'd never seen people dancing before the Lord and worshiping in such freedom. It was astounding and exhilarating.

  It went on for an hour. An hour and a half. Tasha thought at times, that she’d lose her mind. The music sometimes changed tempo and rhythm, but it still kept battering at her, demanding to be a part of her, threatening to sweep her off her feet.

  Then, a man came by and laid a hand on Tim’s head, calling out for fire. Timothy fell like a dead man, at her feet. The man who'd prayed for him was quick enough to catch Tim's arm and break his fall. Laughing, he went on his way, praying for others.

  Tasha promptly sat down. Other people came and prayed for Tim, and he began to tremble, though it seemed he was unaware of all that was going on around him. Still, they prayed fervently. Tim was obviously, much loved by these people. Finally, they left and Tim just stayed where he was, face down on the floor.

  At last the music ended, and Jim went up on the stage amid a roar of cheers and whistles. The sound went up to heaven like thunder. Jim laughed joyously.

  When it died down, he welcomed everyone to the conference. He laughingly told them that Timothy Rain was scheduled to be the first speaker, but he didn’t think that was likely to happen, tonight. A ripple of laughter met his statement.

  He called instead on another man in the front row, who went up the stage steps to a hearty round of applause.

  “Well, I was supposed to take tomorrow night, so I’ll just trade with Tim.” The man chuckled. “I suspect he was in need of what he’s getting from the Lord, just now. He’s a young fella who runs a hard and fast race for Jesus, most all the time. He works darn hard and I happen to know he skied today, too. He’s probably real glad that fire came along tonight. Gives him a chance to catch a wink or two.”

  The crowd chuckled. Tasha tried not to react to the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were no doubt, focused on Timothy's empty chair next to her.

  The man gave a dynamic message, and Tasha listened, though she really didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think about God or anything associated with Him. Not since Gary.

  After an hour or so, Tim kind of came to himself. He tiredly pushed himself up to a sitting position on the floor. He pushed his hair back, and covered his eyes with his big, strong, tanned hands.

  Tasha studied those hands. They were clean, and fine, and cultured. Yet, they were used to hard work, she could see it. There were scars, fine white lines and calluses.

  He wore rings. One fiery ruby flanked by diamonds, one gold nugget ring. And on the other hand, two more – one that looked like a dark sapphire and one that looked a cross between Onyx and Amethyst. It was black with deep red, blue and purple fires glinting in it when the lights struck it, just so. Tasha suspected it might be an Alexandrite.

  With one knee propped up, he looked very relaxed and undignified despite his fine, black wool suit. At last, he pushed himself up into his chair and kind of sprawled there, to the sound of a few snickers from those watching him.

  “You back with us again, Tim?” the speaker queried innocently. “You can come up here and take over, if you’d like.”

  “No, thanks.” Tim declined, waving his hand at the stage, wearily.

  People laughed, and Tim shook his head without embarrassment.

  “Lord, send more fire. Send more fire. Send more fire! Send more fire!” the speaker roared.

  Tim groaned, and slid further down in his seat. Sweat popped out on his forehead, and Tasha could literally feel intense heat falling on him, like sheets of driving rain. It made her very fearful – he was like an oven! What was happening to the man beside her was very real. She could feel sweat on her own brow, just from being too close to him.

  People on the other side of him began to groan from the heat, and the great number of people in the room began to send up a roar of assent with what the speaker was saying.

  Tim started to shake like a freight train, and then he simply slid out of his chair onto the floor again. He was like a rag doll.

  Tasha stared at him with stricken eyes, and then closed them so she didn’t have to see it. She knew again in her heart for the first time in years, that there was a living God. This was definitely God, but not like she’d ever seen Him move before. This was heavier than anything she and Gary had ever moved in.

  What in the world could this mean?

  A roar of voices and applause went up when Tim hit the floor again.

  Tasha listened to the end of the speaker's message in a daze, she was so frozen with trepidation. Then, the speaker offered to pray for the people. He called the ministry team up, and people began flooding to the front.

  Tasha stood up, seeing that they intended to remove the chairs, and moved away to the side of the room.

  Tim slowly got up on his feet and began moving toward the front, though he wasn’t ambulating very well. He took his handkerchief out and mopped his face with it. By the time he had it back in his pocket, people were crowding up to have him pray for them.

  Tasha watched with detached interest as the man Tim was praying for began to tremble and weep. Tim put his hand on the man’s shoulder and spoke to him. Then as Tim laid a gentle hand on his head, the man’s legs crumpled out from under him. A man standing behind him caught him, and laid him gently on the floor.

  Tim moved on to the next person, and the next. Most of them fell to the floor. Tasha could see that Tim's ministry touched every person that he prayed for, mightily.

  It was the power of God; Tasha knew it well. She could feel it near her, when Tim himself had fallen. She knew His Presence, without a doubt.

  It was interesting to watch Tim, and to see the looks on the faces of people around him as well as the face of the one he was praying for. Astonishment, amazement, fear, envy; all were in evidence at times when people heard what Tim had to say over an individual.

  Tasha smiled wryly, knowing he had a strong prophetic gift. It was strong enough that he’d been able to ask for and receive her first and middle name, instantly. She'd never seen the like of it before.

  He’d been so right; no one, but no one knew her middle name, besides her father and Gary. No one at all knew why she hated the name Suzette, so much. She’d never told her father what his sister had done; only the two of them knew – she, and her aunt Suzette – and now, Tim Rain.

  When at last the crowds thinned and most people had departed the service, Tim and the man who’d taken his place as speaker approached Tasha, talking as if they were old friends.

  Tasha smiled, and tried to put up her defenses. But the closer they came, the weaker Tasha's knees felt. The Presence of God was all over both of them. She felt it like a sweet, heavy blanket soaking into her as they approached.

  "Tasha, this is Tom Phillips, a good friend of mine from Tennessee. This lovely lady is Tasha..." Tim introduced them.

  "Charles Taylor", she supplied quietly.

  "Mrs. Charles Taylor." Tom said, taking her hand politely. "Tim certainly thinks very highly of you,
it's a pleasure to meet you."

  "Oh. Thank you. It's nice to meet you." Tasha answered a little bit defensively. What on earth had Timothy been saying about her?

  "Nothing, except how well you've treated me this evening." He answered her knowingly, though she'd said nothing aloud. "It's very nice to be asked to dinner, and allowed to share in a bit of family time. I don't get it every day, you know." He told her with a sheepish smile. “At least not while I’m on the road. My mom insists on seeing that I eat right every once in awhile, but I have to admit that real home meals are rare, in this life.”

  Tasha looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. This man was an enigma. He couldn't possibly be a family man, could he?

  "Don't even try to figure him out. He's a many-faceted character. You never know what he might say next. Likes kids, though. Thought your two were angels." Tom advised her, laughing.

  Tim looked down at her, and laughed. His bright smile under the heavy mustache was slightly embarrassed. "Come on, I ought to get you back home to them." He said gently.

  "Nice to meet you, Miss Tasha. You take care, and we'll see you tomorrow night."

  “Thank you. Good night, Mr. Phillips." She answered politely. She turned eyes with daggers up at Timothy, as he helped her on with her coat, and put an arm around her shoulders.

  "Are you hungry?" he asked as he led her toward the door.

  "Not really. I think I should be going home." She said evenly.

  He put a strong arm around her shoulders, and leaned close to her ear. "Tasha, please. Have a cup with me, and help me unwind a bit. Let me get to know you better. It's been pretty much a whirlwind since we met." He protested. He turned her, and stopped so that she had to face him.

  People were staring at them. He was standing there, looking down into her eyes earnestly, with his warm hands on her shoulders.

  "Ooh!" She hissed at him, with eyes snapping. "What am I supposed to say, with all of Christendom staring at us? All right, all right, I will go! But this is blackmail, Timothy Rain."

  He chuckled under his breath, and pulled her under his arm with more intimacy than she was quite comfortable with. However, with an audience, Tasha didn't want to do anything about it. It wouldn't be right to make a scene.

  After that woman's interest in her before the conference, Tasha understood that there would be ramifications following any reaction that spoke of displeasure – for her, as well as for Tim.

  "For once, I am delighted to see a woman bow to the dictates of public pressure." He admitted. "Thank you, Tasha. I do appreciate it."

  She gave him a piercing look that let him know it was only duress that had made her capitulate, indeed, and then focused her eyes ahead of her steadily.

  He took her to the hotel coffee shop, and ordered a cup of herb tea with honey, and some toast. Tasha ordered an Espresso.

  "Nothing to eat?" he asked worriedly.

  "No. I don't eat anything after dinner. It's a rule I don't dare break." She advised, shooting a wary look across the booth at him. He smiled enough to show her his deep, symmetrical dimples in both cheeks.

  A very young man walked across the restaurant, and sat down next to Tasha without invitation. "Hey, Mr. Rain, could I ask you a couple of questions?" he asked eagerly.

  Tim sighed, and crossed his arms on the table. "What's your name and who are you with?" Tim asked with a politeness that wasn't mirrored in his eyes. He looked distinctly upset.

  "I'm Jim Silman, a reporter with Power In The ..."

  "Get up." Tim snapped quietly, before the young reporter could finish.

  "Pardon me?" the young man asked, flushing brilliantly.

  "Get up." Tim repeated patiently, but in a tone that did not brook argument. The young man obeyed him, instantly. Tim's eyes and presence exuded an authority that shocked both Tasha and the young man.

  "If you ever make yourself at home next to a lady who's in my company again, I'll take you outside and teach you some manners. If you want to interview me, you can ask permission first, and arrange a meeting. Don't you ever presume to crash my free time and don't you ever make yourself comfortable with a lady in my company." He informed the young man pointedly. There was a look of burning challenge in his smoldering eyes.

  The young man looked at him with astonishment, then shot a sideways look at Tasha. Tasha was certain that the young reporter hadn’t even noticed her sitting there, until that moment. He'd just seen an opportunity, and acted on it without thinking.

  "I, uh -- sure. Sure, Mr. Rain. Sorry, you have a nice evening." He said quickly; then he made himself scarce.

  Tasha looked at Timothy with amazement and stifled an embarrassed chuckle. "Whoa." She commented lightly. "You don't mess around, do you?"

  Tim gave her a burning look that told her he was not pleased with the interruption. "I'm very sorry, Tasha. No, I don't tolerate that kind of interference from the press anytime, anywhere. Besides," he said with a teasing smile, "Since I don't think that you'd be inclined to let me sit that close to you, I sure as heck won't let him."

  Tasha blushed, and looked at her lap. Finally, she had to look up at him again, and found herself almost shy. "Well; thank you." She said softly.

  His burning eyes smiled at her. "You're welcome. Now, where were we?"

  "Don't you think you were a bit rough on him, though? I mean, is it really, well – Christian to offer to take him outside, like that?" she asked incredulously, teasing him chidingly with her soft, round eyes.

  Tim shrugged, seeming not at all apologetic. "Why not?" he asked curiously. "Just because I'm a servant of Jesus doesn't mean I have to accept rude tactics from the press." He answered quietly. "He had no right, without an invitation, to join us. I don't feel it was wrong at all of me to offer to work him over. If his mother nor his editor ever taught him how to behave, you can bet I'll be happy to. I suspect he'll think twice before he ever again interrupts me when I'm alone with a beautiful woman."

  Tasha blushed, and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Mr. Rain," she objected. Her eyes were on her lap, but pink spots appeared in her cheeks.

  "Timothy will do." He suggested with a smile. But there was a clear command in the words. "It happens to be the truth, so don't go getting all turned inside out about it. You're very beautiful. Don't pretend it's not so."

  There was a sparkling, naughty challenge in his blue eyes that made the spots in her cheeks grow even brighter. She was a bit undone, and Timothy was enjoying it.

  Tasha gasped in frustration and looked up at him from under lowered lashes. "Are you always so direct?" she asked breathlessly.

  He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "No. I guess I get used to being that way when I'm ministering to people, and it carries over. I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset or embarrass you."

  She gave him her first genuine smile. "It's all right." She assured him. "I suppose circumstances haven't been terribly normal since we met."

  He laughed under his breath and shook his head ruefully. "You can say that again." He agreed. "So, tell me about yourself."

  Tasha shrugged. "I live with my father. I have two kids. I ski a lot and act as a hostess for my father on occasion. That's about all."

  Tim looked at her keenly. "A woman of leisure?" he asked with interest. "You don't strike me that way, at all. I'll bet you stay pretty busy."

  "Yes. I suppose that I do." She answered uneasily.

  "Tasha, is your husband totally out of the picture?" he asked gently.

  She stiffened uncomfortably, but supposed the question wasn't out of line. "Yes." She answered tightly.

  "And you have no intention of telling me any more about him. I won't push you about him, then." He told her with a grin. “I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t getting either of us in trouble by insisting on being your escort. That’s all.”

  She blinked at the gentle understanding in his voice, and found it mirrored in his eyes. "I'd rather not explain, other than to assure you that he is completely gone. He is cert
ainly not going to turn up. Thank you." She said softly.

  Timothy looked at the pulse beating erratically in the slim column of her throat, and wondered at it. The very subject upset her greatly. He stirred his tea, and said nothing.

  "Have you ... never married?" she asked warily.

  He smiled crookedly. "No. Not even close." He admitted. "Doesn't mix well with my lifestyle, to tell you the truth. It would take an exceptional woman to deal with me, and I hate to admit it, but I haven't met anyone who's that exceptional. Not that I have a lot of time to spare, even if I was looking."

  Tasha couldn't help laughing at him. "You sound like a dyed-in-the-wool bachelor, Mr. Rain."

  "That's exactly what I've always been." He admitted lightly. "So, you can relax."

  She laughed again. "So you keep telling me." She teased. "It must show that I'm not particularly eager to have another man in my life."

  He nodded. "You could say that." He agreed with a teasing grin.

  She smiled in embarrassment. "You must think me vain. I hope that I haven't been rude to you." She said uncomfortably.

  He laughed at her, and leveled a look at her that she could swear offered a bit of intimacy. "A bit prickly, but very lovely just the same. Now that we understand one another, how about relaxing just enough to have a good time with me?" he offered lightly. His eyes looked sultry and inviting, and very sexy. Yet, he was candid and open. He even looked hopeful.

  She shook her head, and sighed. "You are the most aggravating man, Timothy Rain. I don't go looking for men friends, and you seem to delight in keeping me off balance. I just don't know for sure what to make of you."

  "Don't make anything of me. Just get to know me." He suggested lightly. “We could, you know, perhaps be friends.”

  "Why?" she asked pointedly. "You're living in a different world than I am. And, you live in another state. This is just a chance meeting. Why are you so insistent?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Except that you are very precious to my Master. He wants you at this conference; and he wants me to befriend you. I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable."