The Lights of Tenth Street

  “Doris,” Eric said, reading her name tag, “you’re a miracle worker.”

  “We both know who the miracle worker is. God willing, we’ll get you home to your baby girl in time.”

  SIXTEEN

  The sky was still pitch-black outside as Doug Turner checked his belongings one last time, locked the rental car, and dropped the keys in the return drop box. He stood at the deserted curbside, waiting for the airport shuttle bus. If he stood any chance of going standby on the eight-thirty flight he would need to be the first one on the list.

  Lord, please get me home on time!

  After a few minutes of waiting, he looked around for a bench and then sat on the curb, pulling his trench coat around him. Too few hours of sleep last night. And not because of a movie, either. He shivered inside his coat and stared out at the darkened streets. Should he tell Sherry he’d gone to the strip club with the guys? It wasn’t a huge deal, not a shameful problem like—well, like the other stuff was. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

  He wondered whether he should have gone at all. What kind of a Christian example was that to the others in the group? But it wasn’t like he’d witnessed to them or anything. Of course, Jordan knew of his faith and sometimes gave him sideways jabs about being too straight-and-narrow, and why would he want to be a Christian and give up all his fun. It couldn’t be all bad for Jordan to see that he could loosen up a little and still stay under control. Doug hadn’t had any alcohol, and of course hadn’t asked any of the girls for a table dance. He’d been thankful that only Gil had asked for a dance, and since the girl had been around the other side of the table, Doug had been able to ignore her. Well, mostly ignore her.

  He saw the distinctive silhouette of the airport shuttle and stood up, grateful to have something else to think about.

  The ticketing line for Doug’s airline was long but moving fast. Through the crowd between him and the ticket counter, he idly watched the ticketing agents go through their routine as each passenger approached. Suddenly, Doug straightened. That woman looked like … He craned his neck, trying to see over the crowd.

  At the meeting last night, Jill had mentioned a flight today. He hadn’t even thought of it until now. But, no—it couldn’t be her. And why did he even care? Annoyed with himself, he continued to peer through the crowd. The woman collected her tickets and departed without looking back. Couldn’t have been her.

  He tried to stuff back an image of Jill at the whiteboard from their first meeting. It popped back up several times. And then an explicit memory from one of the movies he’d watched intruded as well. He tried to clear his mind, frustrated. He must just be too tired this morning.

  He forced himself to think about business, about his family, about how excited everyone was going to be when he walked into the church that night—assuming he made this flight. The ticket agent assured him he’d have a good shot at one of the few standby slots, and sent him on his way, admonishing him to check in with the departure gate regularly.

  Please, Lord …

  Nearly an hour later, after clearing security, he went straight to his gate and conferred with the agent, smiling at the woman and trying to make friends with her. She tapped the keyboard a few times and looked up, her expression apologetic.

  “If we can get you on, you’re going to have to take a middle seat. Just make sure you’re in the gate area twenty minutes before departure, and we’ll try our best to get you a seat assignment.”

  Doug thanked her and started to walk away.

  “Doug?”

  He turned to see a middle-aged man walking toward him. Doug grinned in surprise.

  “Eric!” Doug gave his friend a hearty handshake. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on the eight-thirty flight to Atlanta.”

  “No kidding? I’m on standby for the same flight.”

  “What a coincidence.” Eric Elliott cocked his head, smiling slightly. “I was just going into the club here. Why don’t you join me?”

  Doug followed Eric a few feet down the concourse and through the door of the airline’s private club for frequent travelers. The door opened into an elegant marble-floored entryway with a reception desk. Eric showed his club badge to the man behind the desk, gesturing to Doug. “And he’s with me.”

  “Thank you, Mr.… Elliott. Go right ahead.”

  The two men made their way past a counter where three ticket agents were helping short lines of passengers, and into the quiet, stylish seating area. A curved bar graced one wall and the other was floor-to-ceiling glass, overlooking the airfield. Eric set his bag and coat down by a small grouping of plush sofas and gestured toward the bar.

  “I’m going to grab some orange juice. Would you like anything?”

  “Coffee would be great.”

  Doug surveyed the club with its many amenities for the busy traveler. He pursed his lips, impressed. Maybe he would get a membership.

  Someone walked up by his chair, and he stood to help Eric with the drinks. Instead, he came face to face with Jill, a bag slung over her shoulder, wearing a black turtleneck and blue jeans. He felt his breath catch in his chest.

  “Hey, Doug. I thought that was you.” She shook his hand, a friendly smile on her face.

  “Good morning, Jill. Where are you heading today?”

  “Just down to Los Angeles. I go down to see my boyfriend most weekends. They just called my flight.”

  Doug saw Eric walk up, and he made the introductions. “Jill’s company is one of our clients, and she’s on the big deal I’ve been working with this week.”

  Eric shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jill.”

  “Likewise.” She turned back to Doug. “During the meeting yesterday, I didn’t get a chance to mention several other synergies in the communications area, but I should run them by you soon.”

  “Give me a call next week.”

  “Will do. I know a couple of the other executives were dicey on the numbers, but in my department there are some real financial benefits so I hope the deal works out. Thanks for spending a week on this. I know it’s a pain living out of a suitcase, but I think we made some progress.”

  “I agree. We’ll see.”

  “Well—” she looked at her watch, “see you later. I’ve got to catch my plane.”

  “Thanks for stopping by.”

  She waved good-bye to the two men and headed for the door.

  Doug tried not to follow her back view with his eyes. He turned to see Eric also wrench his gaze away. As the two men sank into the small sofas, Eric looked at Doug’s face and gave him a rueful smile.

  “Whew, brother, I don’t envy you.”

  Doug laughed. “Are you kidding? I thought you were going to say you did envy me.”

  Eric shook his head, chuckling. “No way. I know myself. Working away from home for a week under those circumstances would be a huge exercise in mental self-discipline. My brain gets tired just thinking about it.”

  Doug nodded, suddenly somber. “That’s true.” He sipped his coffee, wondering how much to say. “It hasn’t been … an easy week.”

  The two men sat in silence for a moment. Doug wavered, his pride warring with his conscience. After a bit, Doug stirred and looked up at his friend. “So what brings you to Silicon Valley?”

  “Actually, I was in San Francisco for a convention, but missed my flight home.” He told Doug about being detained at the security check and about the airport shutting down because of the weather. “Thankfully, God seems to have worked it out. I was really worried about missing Rebekah’s play tonight.”

  “Genna is in the play, too, you know.”

  “No kidding? I didn’t know that. What does she play?”

  “She’s one of the angels.”

  “That’s sweet. Not exactly theologically correct, but sweet.”

  “Yeah, the heavenly host that proclaimed Jesus’ birth to the shepherds were probably mighty warriors, not cute little cherubs.” He grinned.
“We looked all over for fifteen-foot-tall four-year-olds, but we couldn’t find any.”

  Eric gave a hearty laugh. “I can’t wait. It’ll be a fun night.”

  “What’s Rebekah’s part?”

  “She’s Mary.”

  “How perfect for her.”

  “Yes, she’s a gentle spirit. It’s weird, isn’t it? She’s only twelve, but probably not that much younger than Mary was when Jesus was born. Probably only a few years’ difference.”

  “That’s such a strange thought! Such a different time and culture.”

  “Yes. But think how unfamiliar our society would be to them. They may have started their families early and may not have lived past their forties, but here we have these long lives filled with so much trash and trouble that they couldn’t even conceive of.”

  Doug shook his head slowly. “I wonder if it was easier to deal with the threat of disease and a grueling lifestyle; or today’s threats of drugs, immorality, and all these other things in the middle of a comfortable lifestyle.”

  “It’s not even so much a matter of something like drugs, which most people recognize as harmful. Today, we have these subtle attacks that don’t even get acknowledged as harmful in our popular culture.” Eric slapped his hand against his knee. “I mean, get this! I’m watching television last night, and this commercial comes on for this movie that was just released—I forget its name, but it’s the one with that really pretty half-Asian, half-black actress.…”

  “You mean Hannah Perry?”

  “Right, right. So anyway, within seconds into this commercial, there’s a shot of Hannah Perry standing in front of a backlit window, undressing down to her lingerie. This image hits me in the face at eight o’clock at night—prime time, family hour! It was there and gone in two seconds—no chance to avoid it, no chance to look away. And now I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “I know what you mean, man.”

  “And if I as a mature Christian man can’t get it out of my head, how on earth is my fourteen-year-old son going to handle that X-rated image? At least years ago, you had the option to avoid pornography. Now it assaults you even when you don’t want it. It makes me furious.”

  “I agree.”

  Eric was shaking his head. “So anyway, I don’t know that there’s an easy answer to your original question. Every time has its challenges—we live in a fallen world. But I almost wonder whether it was easier to live with the physical risks that you couldn’t do much about—that you might die of a disease or be thrown to the lions or something—than to live with today’s emotional and spiritual risks that you feel like you should be able to do something about, but can’t really avoid.”

  Doug stretched and stood, coffee cup in hand. “I’m going to get a refill. Can I get you more orange juice?”

  Doug saw a flicker of surprise cross Eric’s face. He nodded and handed over his juice glass. “That would be great, thanks.”

  When Doug returned, Eric pulled out his ticket. “So where are you sitting on the plane?”

  “I don’t have a seat yet—I’m on standby.” He told Eric about canceling his big meeting in order to surprise his family at the play. “I’ll just be happy to get on the plane, even if I have to squish into a middle seat somewhere.”

  “Listen, let me check with these ticket agents over here and see if they’ll allow me to give you one of my upgrades on your standby ticket so we can sit together in first class.”

  Doug raised an eyebrow. “First class instead of a cramped middle seat by the engine? No argument from me. Are you sure? I don’t want to use up one of your upgrades if—”

  “Please.” Eric waved him off. “I’ve got zillions. Let me check.”

  He walked toward the agents, stood in the short line, and a few minutes later was waving Doug over.

  “They want to see your driver’s license so they can find your record.”

  Doug handed it across the elegant black desktop. This was much nicer than the ticketing throng out at the concourse gates.

  The agent looked up and smiled. “They just updated the standby numbers, by the way. You’ve been confirmed for the flight.”

  Doug sagged in relief. “Thank God.”

  “So let me see what we can do with Mr. Elliotts upgrade certificates …” She tapped quickly at the keyboard. “Normally, passengers aren’t permitted to transfer their upgrades, but as I told Mr. Elliott …” She peered at the screen then nodded. “Yes. His certificates are transferable. And wonder of wonders, there are two first-class seats together. I’m glad both you men got here early or that would never have happened.”

  She completed the transaction and handed Doug his boarding card. “Seat 4B. Thanks for flying with us.”

  As the two men walked away, Doug put on a mock scowl. “So you get the window seat, huh? Some friend you are!”

  Eric turned toward him in surprise, then broke out laughing.

  SEVENTEEN

  Doug awoke as a flight attendant reached across him to collect a plate and utensils from Eric. He gave a startled grunt as he realized he’d missed lunch. He cracked an eye open, shielding his face from the sun blasting through the small window. “What time is it?”

  “It’s eleven-thirty California time, two-thirty Eastern time,” Eric said. “You’ve been out for two and a half hours.”

  “Well, that’s one way to make the trip pass quickly.”

  Doug sat up straighter and shook his head. His hand brushed his face, and he realized he had creases on his cheek from the patterned leather seat. He rubbed his face, embarrassed. “Some friend I am. You give me an upgrade to first class, and I conk out on you.”

  “You must’ve been short on sleep.”

  “You could say that. I got way too little shut-eye on this trip.”

  “I hate that. Especially with the time change. Early meetings aren’t a big problem since my body clock has me up anyway, but—whew!—those late nights. By the time I get through with the dinner meetings, I’m out of it. Stick a fork in me, I’m done.”

  “Especially when you don’t have a choice to avoid the dinner meeting. Everyone else is fine and you’re—well, you know.” He drew circles in the air by his temple. “The night I arrived, I had a dinner with all the executives from this company that we’re negotiating a deal with. They were drinking and having a great time, but I was pretty loopy even without drinking!”

  “Is that the company your acquaintance—the woman you just introduced me to—works for?”

  “Jill. Yeah.”

  “So out of curiosity, how’d you handle that? She go to the dinner?”

  “Yep.”

  “How’d you handle that?”

  “Honestly?” Doug gave a snort. “I struggled the whole time.”

  “Man.” Eric shook his head, smiling. “You couldn’t pay me to put myself in that situation. It’s just not worth it. If I found her attractive, I mean. My thought life would be a mess all night—or all week.”

  The two men sat for a minute, and then Doug spoke up, his voice casual. “I’d be curious to hear how you handle those situations with all the traveling you do. I’m in a male-dominated field, so it’s not as much of an issue, but I was in meetings with Jill several times this week, and … well …” He shrugged and looked at his friend. “You know.”

  The flight attendant approached from the first-class galley. “Mr. Turner, I’m sorry you missed lunch service.” She bent down by his chair. “Would you like something to eat?”

  “If lunch is still available, I would appreciate that.”

  “Yes, sir, it is. What would you like to drink?”

  “A Coke, please.”

  She nodded and turned to Eric. “And a refill for you, Mr. Elliott?”

  Eric handed over his glass. “Thanks.”

  Within moments, she was back with a linen-covered tray laden with turkey, fruit, bread, and salad.

  Doug bowed his head over his meal, then took a slow bite of the large roll and sighed
with appreciation. “I was starving.” He glanced over at Eric. “You were about to tell me your thoughts.”

  “Well, I was just thinking about times I’ve been in a meeting with a woman I find attractive. It might sound stupid, but I was actually pondering an analogy to your bread, there.” Eric gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Okay, don’t laugh, but here goes. You like bread, but you like it even more hot and buttered, right?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well … forgive the crude analogy, but let’s just say that guys in general are usually ‘hungry,’ so to speak. We’re visual and tend to have these images in our heads. For whatever reason, God just built us this way, even if we have the best home lives in the world.”

  “Okay.”

  “So I’m hungry, and when I see that bread, I’m attracted to it. And if it’s ‘hot,’ I’m even more attracted to it.”

  Doug laughed. “Okay.”

  “I can’t do too much about either of those two things—I’m a guy, so I’ll notice an attractive woman. And if she’s got a great body or nice legs or whatever, I’ll probably notice that, too. I can’t do much about noticing it. But what I can do is take control of my reaction to her or—even better—do something that’ll remove me from the temptation entirely. If I don’t remove myself from the environment, I’m still hungry, and that hot roll is still sitting there, calling my name. It’s awfully hard to ignore it. My mind is going to go back to it again and again and again.”

  Doug smiled ruefully. “That pretty much describes the meetings that Jill was in.”

  “Right, but sometimes I can’t change my environment that much. I’ve got a business meeting that includes someone like Jill. She’s an executive, probably a whiz at what she does, and I can’t not deal with her just because she happens to be a really attractive woman. I can’t just leave the restaurant, so to speak. So that hot roll is still going to be sitting there, calling for my attention.