Page 104 of A Twist of Faith
The elevator doors opened wide, inviting her forward. She froze and stared at the gaping metal mouth. Her muscles congealed to unmoving. Thirteen years of stairs. Thirteen years since she’d witnessed her father’s death trapped inside one of those steel coffins.
She took a step back, visions of her father’s unseeing eyes pushing her away, gripping at her determination.
I am with you.
Fear gripped deep. Grace clutched deeper.
If God could save her from a sinking car and from the crushed weight of her past, couldn’t he save her from the ghosts in the elevator? With another look toward the stairs and back to her casted foot, she stepped to the steel doors. Her throat constricted and her breath stalled to an arrhythmic pattern. She took a deep breath and walked into the metal box, forcing the sound of her father’s labored breathing from her mind.
I will never leave you.
She repeated those words like a mantra in her mind and pushed theclose doorbutton, her palms cool and sweaty.
With eyes pinched closed, her father’s face flew to the forefront of her thoughts. Lifeless eyes haunted her, squeezing breath from her body in puffs. A wave of panic spun her motions into a frenzy, but she gripped a prayer as tightly as she held the crutches. Would God take her fears too? Her heart cried for help and peace tumbled over her fears. Breathing came easier. The thudding of her heartbeat in her ears slowed. She loosed her grip on her crutch and stretched her fingers wide. Then the most amazing thing happened.
The door opened.
And she’d survived.
A weak laugh quivered from her, and the cool rush of air on her face alerted her to fresh tears. She wiped at her face with her fingers and readjusted her crutches to ease out of the elevator. Strength poured back into her steps and propelled her out of the elevator. She’d survived, and not only that, but overcome. Another weakening blow to the fears.Thank you, Jesus.
She glanced back at the empty elevator, a new tilt to her chin, and tossed a thankful glance toward Heaven. Her past closed behind her. Now for her future.
The hallway gave a direct line to the exit doors ahead. Could she catch Reese? Probably not, but she had to try. She moved through the lobby and paused outside the front doors. Finally, some bars and a signal. She texted him a quick message then hobbled forward.
People moved out of her way, avoiding the clop of the crutches against the sidewalk. One quick scan of the front of the hospital gave no sign of Reese.
More waiting?
She sighed and leaned against her left crutch, pulling her phone back out. Two missed calls flickered across the screen—both from Reese and both timed over an hour ago. No text.
If he left the hospital a few minutes ago, he had to be close. What did she have to lose? She dialed his number.
Two rings.
“Hey,” his deep voice melted through her.
She closed her eyes and smiled. “Hey.”
“Good nap?”
Every morning, Lord. She wanted to hear his voice every morning. Pretty please, with Ma Mitchell’s sugar cake on top? “I’m sorry I missed you. Why didn’t you wake me?”
He chuckled, the bass note vibrating in her heart. “I tried once, but I don’t think you heard me over your snoring.”
She gasped. “I was not snoring.”
“Mmhmm.”
Her eyes settled closed again, enjoying the touch of his warm voice, like finding home and enjoying Ma Mitchell’s chicken-n-dumplings all rolled up into one.
“Where are you?”
“Not too far.” His voice answered close, strangely close. “You got down here awful fast.”
Her eyes flew open and she turned to see him standing behind her, phone to his ear and lips angled in a grin. His clean-shaven face still surprised her. Clean-shaven and gorgeous. Her heart thumped faster for a totally different set of reasons than a childhood trauma. He had one hand tucked into his snug jeans, and his brown leather jacket brought out the deep caramel of his eyes. Movie material right here.
Heated cheeks and roving eyes were becoming a way of life. Her stomach tightened. Or she hoped they were—for him only. Please, God.
