Angels Walking

by Karen Kingsbury

  “It was beautiful. The songs . . . What you said. Mom would’ve been so proud of you.”

  He smiled. “She always was. No matter what.”

  “True.” Cheryl’s eyes sparkled as she studied him. “I have good news.”

  He sat on the stool again, appreciating the way she felt like family. “Tell me.”

  “Well, the other day after I prayed for you at the hospital I got to thinking.” She clutched her purse in front of her. “A few years back we rented a room to a baseball player for a season. Even after he left we stayed in touch. I thought maybe I could call him and see if he knew of a surgeon who would operate on you for less money. It was worth a shot.”

  Tyler felt his spine stiffen. He had no idea where this was going.

  “You won’t believe this—or maybe you will, since we asked God for a miracle.” Cheryl reached out and took hold of his left hand. “Anyway, the young man has been busy, but he called me back this morning. I told him about you, how you had loved my mother and how you needed surgery.” Happy tears glistened in her eyes.

  Adrenaline rushed through Tyler’s veins. The floor felt liquid. “You did that?”

  “I did.” She made a sound that was more laugh than cry. “He told me to get you on a plane. He’d make the appointment with the team surgeon and—” Her voice broke. She shook her head, trying to speak through her emotions. “He . . . he said whatever the cost, he’d pay for it. Himself.”

  The words came to him all jumbled up. What had she said? She knew a baseball player who could pay for his surgery? That wasn’t possible. People didn’t pay for other people’s operations. “How would . . . who would—”

  “Here’s the most amazing part.” Cheryl was practically bouncing now. “You know him, Tyler. He plays for the Dodgers. He said you were on the same Little League team.”

  He played for the Dodgers? Tyler felt the blood leave his face. He gripped the edge of the stool and tried to keep his balance. The baseball player friend of Cheryl’s could only be one person. “Marcus Dillinger?” Everything was spinning. Was this really happening? Was she really telling him this? “You called Marcus?”

  “Yes.” She ran her free hand over her opposite arm. “I’ve had chills ever since I hung up. Think about it, Tyler. We ask God for a miracle and I see the baseball game on in my mom’s room. There’s Marcus, pitching on TV. And because of that I feel the need to call him. In case he might know of a doctor who could help you. Only he hesitates for a second, then he tells me the thing that I never could’ve known: the two of you were best friends when you were twelve.” She laughed again. “That’s a pretty big miracle.” Cheryl reached into her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. “He said you two lost track of each other. He wanted me to give you his number. He says he has a reservation on hold for you to fly to LA tomorrow!”

  Tomorrow? He was going to get on a plane and see Marcus Dillinger in the middle of the playoffs? The Dodgers were in the World Series. They’d locked their place with Saturday’s win. At the busiest time in his baseball career, Marcus was making time for him?

  Tyler shielded his eyes for half a minute, then he looked at Cheryl again. “You’re serious?”

  “We asked God for His help.”

  “So it’s real?”

  “Yes, Tyler Ames. Call Marcus.” Cheryl’s face beamed with joy and for a moment she looked just like her mother.

  Tyler started to chuckle. The adrenaline had left him exhausted and lightheaded. He stood and pulled Cheryl into a hug. “I have no words. I mean . . . I can’t believe it. The whole thing is impossible.”

  “It’s a miracle.” Cheryl stepped back and smiled at him. “The one we prayed for. Now go call your old friend.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “I’ve got errands to run, but I had to come here first. Tell you in person.” She took a few steps toward the door. “Keep in touch, you hear?”

  “I will.” He pictured how his life might be in six months or a year. “If things go the way I think they will, I’ll be back. I might even see if you have a spare room.”

  Cheryl smiled. “We’d be honored to have you.” She waved before she turned around. “You’re family now, Tyler. You always will be.”

  “You, too.” He watched her leave. He wasn’t sure what to do first. He decided to call Marcus. His old friend was waiting—if he could believe this wonderful miraculous turn of events. He went to his apartment and used the wall phone. Marcus answered it on the first ring. As if he was expecting the call.

  “Hey, Ames! This you?”

  “Marcus.” He had never felt his rock-bottom place more in all his life. They were both supposed to have made it to the Bigs. They were supposed to play for the same team or meet up in the World Series. They’d had it all figured out when they were twelve. Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, desperate for composure. “I talked to Cheryl Conley. She says—”

  “We’re gonna get your shoulder fixed. No time to waste.” Marcus sounded happy, full of life. “It’s a long story, but I think you’re part of some crazy things happening.”

  Marcus sounded the same, as if no time had passed between them. “You’re sure? I can pay you back . . . but it’ll take a while.”

  “You always did talk too much, Ames. You know that?” He laughed. “Get your broken butt out here first thing tomorrow. I have the ticket on hold at the airport. I’ve got like ten million frequent flyer miles.”

  This was real. Marcus was on the other end of the line telling him about flight details. He was going to LA. He had an appointment with one of the top surgeons. And in a week or so, he was going to get his surgery. “I . . . I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Now there’s a switch. Remember when Coach lit into you because you were talking when he was talking?” Marcus laughed as easily now as he had back then. “I’ll give you a day, Ames. By the time you land tomorrow you’ll think of something to say. I have no doubt.”

  Both of them laughed. Tyler could hardly wait for morning. Before the call ended, his friend’s tone grew softer, more serious. “You gotta get better, Ames. You’re too good to sit the bench, you hear?”

  “Thanks. Remind me to tell you about Cheryl’s mother tomorrow. Talk about crazy things happening.”

  The call ended and Tyler remembered Harrison Myers. He needed to tell the man that he was leaving. He wasn’t sure when he’d be back. He held his injured arm against his body, ignoring the pain as he hurried to the office. So much hope filled him he half expected to look down and see angels carrying him. God felt that close. And even if they weren’t, Tyler knew this much:

  Somewhere in heaven, Virginia Hutcheson was smiling.

  HARRISON MYERS WAS filling out paperwork for one of the new residents at Merrill Place when Tyler Ames knocked on his door and came in. He’d never looked happier.

  “Mr. Myers. Sorry—I have to talk to you. It can’t wait.” Tyler still wore his brace, though it was frayed at the seams now. “Is that okay?”

  Harrison laughed a little. “Of course.” He nodded to the chair. “Have a seat.”

  “I have a flight out tomorrow morning at 7:15.” He was breathless. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

  Tyler explained everything. But when he finally came up for a breath Harrison thought he understood the big picture. “Are you saying this is your last day?”

  Laughter shook Tyler’s chest, and Harrison realized he hadn’t seen this side of the young athlete. He hadn’t had a reason to laugh until now. “I think so.” He explained that he would come back for his things as soon as he could, or maybe he’d pay to have them shipped. “If I get everything in a few boxes, maybe you could keep them in your storage out back.”

  “Of course. I’ll wait to hear from you.” Harrison leaned his forearms on the desk and studied the young man in front of him. “I’m happy for you, Tyler. This is just what you need.”

  “It is.” Tyler’s smile faded. “None of it would’ve happened if it had
n’t been for you. If you hadn’t given me a chance. I was homeless. I hadn’t showered in days and my clothes could’ve walked in on their own.” He narrowed his eyes. “Without you, I never would’ve met Virginia.”

  “That was special, what happened between you two.” Harrison slipped his glasses back on and nodded. “Never seen anything like it.” Harrison stood and Tyler did the same. “I’d take you back anytime.” They shook hands. “You’re a hard worker and a good man, Tyler Ames. When you get back on that pitcher’s mound, just know this: I’ll be following your career from here. I believe in you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Tyler took a few steps toward the office door. “That means so much.”

  “Take the rest of the day off. Go pack.” He sighed. “Looks like I need a new maintenance man.” He pointed at Tyler. “One who can sing.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tyler laughed again. He was at the door when he stopped and turned around. “Oh! I almost forgot. I made a phone call earlier—long distance. Ten or twelve minutes.” He hesitated. “Can you take it out of my last paycheck?”

  “Tyler Ames, no, I cannot.” Harrison shook his head and grinned. “I think I can cover the calls. After all you’ve done around here.”

  Not until Tyler was gone did Harrison sit back down and think about what had happened.

  Working at Merrill Place sometimes felt monotonous. Like he was biding time, living on cruise control. Working for a paycheck. But that wasn’t true. He loved the residents here. God was using him.

  He thought about Tyler walking into Hope Community Church and some volunteer remembering Pastor Roman’s information about Merrill Place. Then Tyler’s resemblance to Virginia Hutcheson’s son and the young man’s heart to take time for an old dying woman. He thought about the connection between Cheryl and Marcus Dillinger and Tyler and he shook his head. God had allowed him to be ringside to a miracle bigger than all of them.

  One that was only now beginning to play out.

  28

  THE WORLD SERIES STARTED in forty-eight hours, but Marcus Dillinger wasn’t at the ballpark. He was driving to Los Angeles International Airport in his Hummer. Every other player was either at the Dodgers’ training facility or working on his game. Marcus Dillinger had spoken to his coach, Ollie Wayne, and gotten permission for this diversion.

  “I’m ready,” he told him. “I’ll deliver. I promise.”

  “That’s fine.” Ollie believed him. Always.

  Marcus couldn’t wait to see his old friend. Everything else was lined up. Tyler would meet with the surgeon later today. The guy had promised to do the operation at cost.

  Pennies for someone with a starting pitcher’s income.

  He pulled off the 405 Freeway onto Airport Boulevard and worked his way to the passenger pickup area. About the same time he got a call. One ring and then it stopped. The signal they’d worked out meaning Tyler had his bags and he was headed outside.

  Marcus tried to imagine not having a cell phone, not having the money to buy a plane ticket or get surgery—insurance or not. He was so far removed from the place Tyler lived in. But none of it had mattered until the call from Cheryl Conley. He had challenged God, after all. Asked Him to bring meaning to his life.

  If He was real, anyway.

  Baldy Williams was gone, but Marcus still had today. He wanted to make a difference.

  Now he was going to get the chance.

  He spotted Tyler and rolled down his window. “Ames! Over here!”

  Tyler turned and lifted his good hand. The other arm was in a brace. He wore a baseball hat—proof that he still saw himself as a player. He was taking this trip to find a way back to the mound.

  Marcus put his Hummer in park and jogged around to meet his friend. The two shared a hearty hug and the same handshake they’d done back when they were twelve. “Look at you!” Marcus grinned at his old friend. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “You don’t look a day older than you did as a senior in high school.” Tyler grinned at him.

  “Cross-town rivals.” Marcus flicked his friend’s baseball cap. “Jackson High Champs. You still have that old thing?”

  “It’s vintage, man. Gotta love it.”

  They caught up all the way back to Dodger Stadium. Marcus pulled into the player parking lot around one o’clock. His teammates were working out on their own until practice at three that afternoon. Still plenty of time to talk to Tyler, quit the jokes, and give him the back story. The unexpected way Tyler might be an answer to his own questions.

  Marcus waited until they were seated in the fifth row off third base. The air was cool, the sky impossibly blue. A light breeze drifted down from the Santa Monica Mountains. Perfect LA weather.

  Tyler leaned over his knees and stared at the field, at the pitcher’s mound. “Can’t believe this, man. You’re living the dream.”

  “My whole life’s been one lucky break.” Marcus expected Tyler to laugh and say something about his being a series of unlucky breaks. Instead his friend leaned back in his seat.

  “I earned my bad breaks. All of them. I was a mess long before I threw that last pitch.” Tyler drew a deep breath. “I’m better now than I was when my body was perfect. I believe that.”

  Marcus nodded, thoughtful. “Okay . . . You want the story?”

  Tyler smiled. “Every detail.”

  “So Baldy Williams overdosed. You heard about that?”

  “I did.” Tyler sighed. “Such a waste.” He looked out at the mound again. “Back when we were kids, remember? We wrote a list of pitchers we wanted to be like.”

  Marcus could see them again, the boys they’d been that summer, sitting at Tyler’s kitchen table. “I completely forgot about that.”

  “Yep.” Tyler’s smile looked sad this time. “Baldy was at the top of the list. For both of us.” He shook his head. “Hit me hard, man. They had me on Oxycodone. I mean, for a long time. Read that article and not long after I quit cold. I could see things getting out of control.”

  “Hmmm. I didn’t know that.”

  “Poor Baldy.” Tyler lifted his face to the sunshine directly over the stadium. “I didn’t want things to end like that for me.”

  A shudder worked its way through Marcus. How would he have felt if he’d gotten the call that the person dead from an overdose was Tyler Ames? If he hadn’t connected with him now and helped him like this? He would’ve lived with the regret all his life. “Anyway, after Baldy died I came here the next morning and pretty nearly ran myself to death. Felt like the grim reaper was chasing me up and down the stairs.”

  “Sounds awful.” Tyler turned and looked at him, caught up in the story.

  “All the money and cars and houses, the fame and playoffs. None of it mattered that morning.” Marcus squinted at the distant stairs. “All I wanted was purpose. A reason for this life.” He looked at Tyler again. “You know?”

  “Definitely.” His friend’s eyes said he could relate.

  “So.” Marcus sat up straighter, breathing in deep. “I gave God a challenge. I told Him if He was there, He needed to show me. Give me a reason to believe. Give my life meaning.”

  Tyler held his damaged arm close to his body. He smiled, but his eyes remained thoughtful. “Sounds like you.”

  “I know . . . lotta nerve. Calling out God.” Marcus chuckled, but the sound faded quickly. “That was only a few weeks ago. Since then a day hasn’t gone by without some way to give back. Talking to a couple guys about converting a hotel downtown for the homeless. Maybe adding an afterschool program for troubled teens.” He sighed. “I’ve been busy writing checks. All for good things, but I never really saw God in them. If He was real I wanted better proof—something more personal.”

  For a long time Tyler only stared at the infield. When he looked back at Marcus, his eyes looked damp. “So God brought me.”

  “Exactly.” He gazed at the nearby mountains. “I couldn’t make this stuff up, you know? Couldn’t have placed a call or had my agent figure it
out.” His eyes met Tyler’s again. “It has to be God.”

  Tyler removed his baseball cap and worked his good hand through his hair. “Wait till you hear my side of the story.”

  “See, Ames?” Marcus grinned. “I knew you’d find your words.”

  For the next ten minutes Tyler told him his story. The parts Marcus couldn’t possibly have known: how the blown shoulder had led to his living in a car and how a random visit to a church had opened a door for the job at Merrill Place. The way Virginia Hutcheson had thought he was her son, and the daily conversations that followed.

  The way she spoke to him about God’s grace.

  “I mean, what are the odds you take time with an old lady and because of that, you wind up back here with me?” Marcus couldn’t stop the chills that ran along his bare arms.

  “That’s just it. There are no odds.” Tyler laughed in a way that showed his bewilderment. “Both of us needed a miracle. Both of us were backed into a corner where only God could get us out.”

  Tyler was right. “Cheryl . . . her mother. You.”

  “God tied it all together.” Tyler chuckled. “So we wouldn’t mistake it for something ordinary.” He slipped his cap back on his head and adjusted the bill.

  “Exactly.” Marcus pulled his car keys and a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hey, I gotta run. Your appointment’s in an hour. Here’s the keys and the address.”

  Tyler took both and again he seemed at a loss for words. He stared at the slip of paper and hung his head. “How can I . . . ever thank you?” He shook his head. “I don’t deserve this.”

  “I thought your friend Virginia already told you that.” Marcus put his arm around his friend’s good shoulder. “None of us deserve anything, right? Wasn’t that it?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Tyler lifted his head and looked at Marcus. “I mean . . . my shoulder, my trouble. It isn’t your problem.”

  “No.” Marcus’s heart felt lighter than it had in years. “It isn’t my problem, Ames. It’s my miracle.” He stood and folded his arms, smiling at his friend. “How’s that for a switch? I should be thanking you.”