Sunset

“You’re pregnant too?” Bob chuckled at his own joke.

  “Very funny.” He ran his fingers through Katy’s hair and allowed himself to get lost in her eyes. “I guess it’s old hat for you veterans. But for me . . . I had my hand on Katy’s stomach, and the little guy kicked me. It’s like a miracle.”

  “Actually it is.” The laughter faded from Bob’s tone. “And, no, it never gets old. We’re expecting our third in December.”

  “Really?” Did either of them ever imagine life going this well back when they were at the missionary boarding school? back when everything seemed confusing, at least for Dayne? “God gives us so much more than we deserve, doesn’t He?”

  “Definitely.” Bob hesitated. “That’s sort of why I’m calling. It looks like we’re getting a furlough in June, and we might be able to stay until Katy’s due date. If you’re up for company, we’d love to spend a few days with you.”

  Dayne’s heart soared. “Absolutely. Stay as long as you want.” There could be no more fitting friend than Bob Asher to pay them a visit and take part in the celebration as Katy’s due date drew near. Bob, after all, had led Dayne into a saving relationship with Christ at a time when he and Katy never would’ve survived otherwise. Time and again when life was out of control, Bob was the one with the wisdom, Scripture, and prayer support to help turn things around.

  “I can’t wait to meet your little one.”

  “That’s a photo I want framed on the mantel.” Dayne felt the emotion from the day well up inside him. “My best friend holding my baby. Because without you . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Hey, don’t go getting all mushy on me.” Bob laughed, but he sounded sentimental also. “I was just in the right place at the right time. God’s the One who changed you.”

  They talked for a few more minutes, and then Dayne remembered something. “Hey, I need you to pray for Luke.”

  Bob knew well the bad decisions Luke had made last fall and how they had hurt Dayne. “I wondered how his marriage was going.”

  “Not well. They’re talking about a divorce.”

  A sigh came across the phone line. “The devil never gives up, does he?”

  “Not for long.” Dayne explained how fault lay with both Luke and Reagan and how that had complicated the situation. “But isn’t that the whole point of being a believer? We might make the worst mistake of our lives, but we learn from it and still find forgiveness and grace?”

  “Exactly.” A sad ripple of laughter filled the space between them. “Maybe you should’ve been a missionary after all.”

  “I think I am.” Dayne considered all that lay ahead, the trials and triumphs that were bound to come in a group as big as the Baxter family. “Maybe we’re all supposed to be missionaries in our own way.”

  “You’re on to something there. And of course I’ll pray.” He paused. “Keep me posted.”

  The call ended, and after Dayne hung up, he noticed Katy had fallen asleep. He tenderly pulled the covers over her shoulders, tucking the sheets in close to her chin. She was the picture of true beauty, resting peacefully, her skin smooth and unlined, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, their baby growing inside her.

  He was about to slide in under the sheets next to her when the phone rang again. Before it could wake Katy, Dayne grabbed it from the base and clicked the On button without checking caller ID. “Hello?” He kept his voice low, slightly baffled. Did anyone know it was a weeknight?

  “Oh, Dayne . . . this is Kari. I’m sorry I woke you.” She sounded troubled.

  “No, it’s fine.” Dayne covered his mouth so he could keep the noise level down. “Katy’s sleeping; that’s all.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep this short.” She exhaled in a way that conveyed her weariness. “I’m meeting with Angela Manning tomorrow. She’s the woman who had the affair with my first husband. She tried to kill herself, and now she’s in a psychiatric hospital.” She took a shaky breath. “I’m going to tell her how with Jesus she can find hope and forgiveness.”

  “That’ll be tough.” Dayne had heard the story from Ashley, but he didn’t realize the woman had resurfaced in Kari’s life. “Does she know who you are?”

  “No. And I think I’ll leave it that way, at least for now. That’s why I’m calling. Ryan thought I should ask everyone to pray so everything that happens tomorrow is about bringing glory to God and not because of my own curiosity or because I want to pay her back or anything else.”

  “Got it. I’ll pray and I’ll tell Katy in the morning.”

  “Thanks.” Kari paused. “That means a lot.”

  When the call ended, Dayne eased himself onto his back without disturbing Katy. He studied her in the moonlight, and his words to Bob replayed in his mind. He wouldn’t want to be a missionary in a foreign country, though he deeply respected that his adoptive parents and Bob’s family had been called to such an important ministry. But what he’d said earlier was true. Dayne didn’t need to leave the country to be a missionary, to pray for his family and act as a light whenever a situation arose. He could be a missionary right here in Bloomington.

  The way his sister Kari was about to be.

  Kari couldn’t draw a full breath as she entered the lobby of the downtown psychiatric hospital, but she could feel the prayers of her family holding her up, giving her strength with each step.

  She reached the front desk and introduced herself. “I have an appointment with Angela Manning.”

  For a moment, the receptionist looked at her strangely, as if maybe she recognized Kari and knew the connection she had with Angela. But then she managed the slightest very serious smile. “That’s very nice of you, volunteering your time.” She picked up a telephone receiver, pushed a button, and hesitated. “Kari Taylor is here. Can I send her back?” Another pause. “Okay, thanks.

  “They’re ready for you.” The receptionist studied Kari again. “Visits like this . . . we find it makes a big difference to these women. Gives them hope that once they get out of here, they’ll connect with people who will help them continue growing in their faith.” She pointed down a hallway. “First door on the left. They’ll bring in Angela in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you.” Kari appreciated those words. They were a confirmation, the additional reassurance she needed. She followed the woman’s directions and sat at one end of a sofa anchored beneath a picture window.

  Kari wasn’t alone for long before the door opened and suddenly there she was, standing next to a man in a white coat. Her eyes were dead and empty, and she wore a look of bored indifference. Kari studied her, and she couldn’t help but wonder how Tim could’ve chosen the woman standing in the doorway over what he’d had at home with her. She resisted the sudden resentment welling within her. I’m not sure I can do this, God.

  You can do all things through Me, for I will give you strength. . . .

  Yes. Kari exhaled. That’s true. Last week she and Ashley had discussed the virtues in the fourth chapter of Philippians, and Kari had read it a number of times in the past week. Along the way, in addition to the wonderful message about God’s peace, Kari had rediscovered the thirteenth verse: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”

  “Kari?” The man led Angela into the room. “I’m Dr. Montgomery, and this is Angela Manning.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” She stood and shook the doctor’s hand. “How long do we have?”

  He checked the clock on the wall to her right. “A half hour?” He looked at Angela. “How does that sound?”

  She shrugged. “Fine. There’s nothing else to do.” She gave Kari a look that bordered on suspicious.

  “Very well.” The doctor smiled, undaunted by her comment.

  Kari had submitted an outline of what she planned to talk about to Dr. Montgomery, and then she’d spent fifteen minutes on the phone with the man while he explained that she needed to keep to her outline. “Not every inpatient facility allows this type of lay counseling. We do, however, beca
use we know you’ve undergone training, and because you’re the type of friend she’ll need when she gets out. But it’s important you don’t say anything to contradict the help she’s getting here.”

  The only part of his directions that made Kari struggle was the part about being a friend. It was one thing to come to this place and talk to Angela about how she’d seen Jesus work in the lives of hurting women. It was another to be Angela’s friend. For now, Kari was certain God wasn’t calling her into that type of a relationship with Angela, but at the same time maybe Kari could connect the woman to a group that would befriend her.

  After the doctor was gone, Kari took her seat again on the end of the sofa and motioned for Angela to sit in the closest chair. As she came closer, Kari smiled at her. Don’t think about who she is, she told herself. This hurting and broken woman was created by God. That’s all that matters. “I’m Kari.” She shook Angela’s hand. “Thanks for talking with me.”

  Angela crossed her legs. “I don’t know why you’d come.”

  Kari decided to start at the beginning—how she’d had a troubled marriage and how she hadn’t known what to do next. “I was raised with a strong faith, but not until my life was turned upside down did Jesus Christ become truly real to me.”

  Angela leaned back slightly. “What does that mean, real to you?”

  Kari’s nerves relaxed a little. She could do this. She could share the message of Jesus with this woman no matter how their paths had crossed so many years ago. “See, having faith isn’t just believing in a list of rules. It’s about having a relationship with God.”

  A flicker of interest showed in Angela’s eyes. “Explain that.”

  And Kari did. For the next several minutes she talked about Jesus, how He wanted a friendship with His people and how that relationship always started with forgiveness. “Because we’re all sinners. All of us have things in our past that separate us from the Lord. Things He wants to forgive us for.”

  Angela was silent for a few seconds. Then she shook her head slowly. “He won’t forgive me for my past. I’ve done things that no one could forgive. Things that haunt me.”

  In that instant Kari knew that Angela had to be talking about her relationship with Tim. Which was why Kari was here—because in the end, before his violent death, Tim had found forgiveness and healing. Now it was Angela’s turn.

  When their meeting was almost finished, Kari pulled a new Bible from her purse and handed it to Angela. “You tried to kill yourself because you didn’t think life was worth living. But Christ died on the cross to give you a vibrant, joyful life.” She nodded to the Bible. “You can read about it there.”

  Angela appeared stunned. “I’ve never . . . had a Bible.” When she looked at Kari, some of the indifference from earlier was gone. “Where should I start?”

  “The book of John. It’s in the New Testament at the back.” Kari took the Bible again and flipped to the first page of John. “Start here.”

  They had maybe another minute, and Kari knew what she was supposed to do next. She set the Bible down on the sofa. “Can I pray with you?”

  Angela hesitated, and it felt like maybe she would say no. But then in a voice that was strained from new emotion, she whispered, “Yes . . . thank you.”

  Here was the moment Kari had dreaded and feared. Please, God, be with me. She took hold of Angela’s hands. The hands that had wrongfully touched Tim and loved Tim, even though he was married. The hands that had welcomed him into her apartment time and again, the hands that had tried to keep him from returning to Kari, even when Tim learned Kari was pregnant. A feeling of repulsion choked Kari and made it impossible for her to pray.

  But then she remembered something else. These were also the hands that had tried to commit suicide.

  Kari found her voice. “Dear Lord, be with Angela this week. Let her see You in her counseling sessions and in the group therapy. And let her hear Your leading as she reads the book of John. Help her know that no one—” she swallowed the tears building in her—“is beyond Your forgiveness. Because Your sacrifice was enough for all of us. No matter what. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  As they finished praying, Dr. Montgomery stepped into the room. “Well?” His smile was warm and peaceful. “How’d it go?”

  “Good.” Kari released Angela’s hands. She was shaking, but she’d done it. She’d come here and met with Angela and even held her hands. “I’ll be back next week if that’s okay.”

  Angela nodded, her expression markedly different than it had been thirty minutes ago. Now she looked more like a lost child, baffled at why someone would take the time to help her. She picked up the Bible from the sofa and held it close. “I don’t get this, why you’re here.” Her tone wasn’t exactly kind, but it was warmer than before. “Anyway . . .” She raised the Bible a few inches. “Thank you. And I guess . . . I guess we’ll talk next week.”

  As Kari left the facility, everything around her seemed to be bursting with new life. Flowers and patches of grass and new leaves that she’d missed coming in colored the scene in a way that made her want to break into song. God was faithful beyond anything she could imagine! He had brought new life to her, even when her whole world felt ripped apart by Tim’s unfaithfulness and then by his death. But now she had Ryan, Jessie, RJ, and Annie, new life and new hope. Sharing that new life with the very woman responsible for nearly destroying her wasn’t something Kari could do in her own strength, and therein lay the beauty of it. Her visit with Angela today was proof that God was and that He lived and that He was still working today.

  And something else. She really could do all things through Christ who gave her strength.

  Cody Coleman clung to the rusty bars and peered into the darkness of the hot, dank room. It was late, though Cody wasn’t sure if it was midnight or two in the morning or four. With no windows in the building, they’d lost all sense of time except what their bodies told them. And since the others were sleeping—each locked in his own cage—Cody could only assume it was late.

  He couldn’t stand upright in the metal box, and his spine ached because of it. Some moments he wanted out of the cage so badly he could picture losing it. Truly losing it. Banging his head against the ceiling of the metal box and screaming from the insanity of it.

  Instead, every time Cody felt like he was going to go crazy from the confinement, he talked to God. He had known about the Lord a number of different ways and times. As a teenager he’d heard the Flanigans talk about God, how Cody couldn’t expect his life to go well if he didn’t first find that all-important faith in Christ. And after his near-death experience from drinking, he’d gone to those alcohol meetings at the Flanigans’ church and found a very real relationship with Jesus.

  But the Lord had never been more alive to him than right here, locked in an Iraqi holding room, trapped in a five-by-five metal cage.

  “I know You’re here, Jesus.” He whispered the words because there was something about hearing his own voice that helped him stay sane. His mouth was dry, but he couldn’t drink from the water bowl on the dirty floor of the cage. Not yet. He needed to ration the water in case his captors forgot to bring more. He ran his tongue along his gritty gums. “There’s a reason I’m still alive. I know that.” He gripped the bars more tightly. “Please send help. Get us out of here so I can figure out why You spared me.”

  Cody pressed his head to the top of the cage, fighting the wild desire to stand tall and straight. Even for a few seconds. His head hurt from the pressure, and finally he sank to the floor. He eyed the water bowl in the corner. Maybe just one small sip. He picked it up, grateful for the cover of darkness so he couldn’t see the dirt and bugs at the bottom of the bowl. He dipped his tongue into the cool liquid and lapped up a few quick drinks. This was what his life had become these past few weeks, nothing more than an animalistic existence. The way his captors wanted it to be.

  He pulled up his legs and planted his elbows on his knees. They were bonier than before, and he
wondered how much weight he’d lost. Once a day angry Iraqi insurgents burst into the room and flipped the lights on. They would bark things at the men that none of them understood, and they’d shove a tray of something like cold oatmeal into each of their cages. No vegetables or fruit or meat and no utensils. Sometimes they’d poke the butts of their guns into the cages, jabbing at the prisoners for fun.

  The first time one of his captors did that to Cody, he grabbed the man’s gun and tried to wrestle it away. But that only attracted the attention of the others, who hurried over and joined in the attack. Before it was over, Cody was on the floor, blood pouring from his head, almost unconscious from the blows.

  When the men finally left, Cody had the wherewithal to apply pressure to his bleeding head. After a while, he ripped a piece of material from the inside hem of his pants and applied it to the wound. The bleeding stopped and he fell asleep, his head pounding. When he woke up the next day, his buddies told him they were surprised he’d lived.

  “They wanted to kill you, man,” Carl told him. Carl was in the cage opposite Cody’s. “If they come back at you again, fall sooner. Maybe that’ll make ’em stop.”

  Sure enough, later that day the Iraqis came back, jabbing their guns at Cody and trying to break open his head wound. Cody fell to the back of his cage, careful to keep his damaged scalp out of reach. Without the game of seeing Cody fight back, the men gave up and turned their attention to the other prisoners. When each of them chose to cower in a corner, the Iraqi men quit fighting, pointing at the Americans and laughing at them.

  Cody ran his fingers over the spot where the wound had long since healed. He lowered one hand and felt along the floor for the rock, the small one with the pointy edge. In the cover of darkness, he had used it to scratch lines into the bottom of the cage. One line for every day they’d been in captivity. He ran his fingers over the lines now and counted again. Twenty-two.

  He could hardly believe they’d been here so long. Certainly someone had to know where they were and that they needed help. He rested his forehead in his hands. They never should’ve been caught, for that matter. They’d been searching an empty building when the insurgents had burst in through two different back doors. Had they run, they might have all escaped because Cody was pretty sure that only two of the Iraqi men were armed.