At the same time, he and Maddie—moving very slowly—let go of Hayley’s hands. They stayed beside her, ready to catch her. But Hayley was steady, steadier than she’d been since her accident.
Brooke gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “She’s standing by herself.”
“Mommy, wait.” Maddie held her finger to her lips. “That’s not the trick.”
Jessie stopped jumping. “Go on, Hayley. Show ’em your ’prise.”
With Cole and Maddie beside her, Hayley took two steps and then stopped. She grinned at Brooke and Peter. “Walk, Mama. Hayley walk.”
John brought his fist to his mouth, and his eyes filled instantly.
“Dear God . . . thank You!” Brooke’s words were a whisper. She leaned into Peter, her face pinched, eyes locked on their daughter. “She’s walking!”
Peter couldn’t speak. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He rose from his seat, ready to dart across the room and catch her. But there was no need.
“See . . .” Cole stayed an inch from his cousin’s elbow. “I told you she was okay. Me and Maddie taught her how.”
Maddie, on Hayley’s other side, whispered at the group, “I taught her first.”
This time, Cole didn’t argue. They were all too busy watching Hayley. She fixed her eyes on Brooke and walked around the table with slow steady steps.
Brooke stood and crouched down, her arms open.
Hayley walked the rest of the way and practically ran the final steps into Brooke’s arms. “Mama!”
Cole and Maddie did a high five.
Everyone was in shock, sitting motionless, silent. Hayley had been without a heartbeat of her own for half an hour after her drowning accident. In the weeks that followed, her doctors had explained to the family that Hayley would probably never get out of bed again. By their assessment, she would be blind and brain damaged the rest of her life.
Only here she was, walking and talking on her own.
John looked at Brooke, rocking Hayley, crying tears of gratitude while Peter and Kari and Erin and Ashley did the same.
“That’s a good trick, don’t you think, Mommy?” Maddie skipped over and put her hand on Brooke’s shoulder.
“Yes, honey.” Brooke wiped her tears. “Yes, it’s a very good trick.”
Suddenly John realized what had just happened. Never mind about the pain the next day would bring, about the understanding he could only hope his kids would have in regard to their older brother. Today he had asked God for a sign, proof that He was indeed with them, working in their midst. And God had delivered.
Because here and now—in a way none of them could yet begin to believe—their precious little Hayley could walk.
The Friday night full-company Narnia rehearsal seemed like a waste from the moment it started. Al and Nancy Helmes were on a brief trip to the West Coast to see the birth of their seventh grandchild. As a result, the group had no music, and with lightning and thunder flashing outside and the building shaking from the wind, it was all Katy could do to keep the kids under control.
“Guys, come on,” she heard herself say repeatedly. “We need every minute of rehearsal time.”
The kids would shape into action until the next clap of thunder. Never mind that this was Indiana and they should have been used to storms. The tornado watch had everyone on edge. Halfway through the rehearsal—just as Bailey Flanigan, playing the White Witch, was hissing at young Edmund that he better find his siblings and find them fast—the lights flickered and every child onstage screamed.
A few minutes later—the electricity still fighting for survival—Krissie Schick, a board member and current CKT area coordinator, pulled Katy aside and informed her that twelve parents had called, concerned and wondering if the church had a basement and checking that Katy Hart had the sense to call off rehearsal and take the kids downstairs if the storm got bad enough.
Making it harder was the fact that Katy hadn’t heard from Dayne. It had been two weeks since his surprise visit, so if he’d made time for a trip to Mexico, it would’ve happened by now. Katy had prayed for him whenever he came to mind—which was more times each day than she could count. She’d talked about the situation at length with Jenny and even with Rhonda and Ashley.
All of them agreed. Praying for Dayne was a good thing, but dwelling on him, as if he might be a part of her life somewhere down the road—probably not.
“No matter how you think about him or how you see him,” Ashley had told her the other night when they were working on sets, “he’s a movie star. A gorgeous, playboy movie star.”
“But if he finds God . . . if he gives his life to the Lord . . .”
“It could happen.” Rhonda tried to stay positive. “But maybe you should try to forget about him for now. Until you know.”
Katy had sort of expected him to go to Mexico and call her as soon as he stepped back on American soil. Every day this past week she had felt her hopes slip. Whether he’d gone or not, Dayne must still be searching for answers. Otherwise he would’ve contacted her.
The rehearsal dragged on, Katy spending half her time trying to get the kids to focus and the other half calming their fears. Finally, forty-five minutes before they were supposed to wrap up, she walked to the front of the stage and clapped—the special clap that signaled it was time to pay attention.
The kids fell silent and returned the clap.
Outside, the wind howled. “Okay.” She held out her hands, trying to bring a extra calm to the group. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re finished rehearsing for now.”
Two hands shot up, and a redheaded boy shouted, “Rehearsal’s supposed to go till nine, and it’s only eight fifteen.”
“I know.” Katy held her finger up in a sign that meant for the boy to quiet down. “Let me finish first.” She pointed to the stairs at the back of the sanctuary. “We’re going to go down and watch a Charlie Brown cartoon in the basement until your parents come.”
“The basement?” A little girl in the front row stood up. “’Cause there’s a terrible tornado like The Wizard of Oz, and the church is going to spin off the ground and land on a witch? Is that why, Katy?”
A few of the older kids giggled.
“No, sweetie.” Katy smiled at the child. “This is more like a break time, okay?”
Several younger children looked doubtful, and one boy started to cry. But with the help of Rhonda and Krissie, they got all the children to the basement and situated on the floor in front of an oversize television. Katy started the video, and the group quieted down.
Rhonda came to her and whispered, “Good call.” She looked toward the stairs with a concerned expression. “If a tornado does take the church building to Oz, at least we’ll be in the basement.”
“Exactly.” Katy sat in a chair in the front of the room. She couldn’t see the screen very well, but she could see the kids. Anytime one of them started whispering—especially the teens who had taken up places against the back wall—she could give them a look and get them quiet again.
She was checking her watch, praying that the minutes would speed by, when she heard hushed voices at the end of the front row of the group. A redheaded boy was motioning to another boy about his age.
The redhead gave his neighbor a mean look. Then he pointed at him and leaned forward, his eyes on Katy. “Smoking!” He said the word as loud as he could while still whispering. He jabbed his finger three more times in the direction of the boy beside him. “That kid’s talking about smoking!”
Katy took a long breath and studied the boy in question. He was a heavy child named Skyler—very heavy. He had round cheeks and several chins, and sometimes he came to practice in a shirt that didn’t quite fit him. Skyler was shy and took direction well. Katy often kept an eye on him to make sure the other kids didn’t pick on him. So far, so good—until now.
As discreetly as possible, Katy slipped to the floor beside Skyler and looked at him with concern.
Embarrassed, the boy returned
her look with wide, fearful eyes.
“Skyler—” Katy kept her voice low so the other kids could still hear the video—“were you talking about smoking?”
The boy gulped twice and gestured to the television. “See that boy there? The one with the smoke around him?”
Katy angled herself so she could see. Skyler was pointing at Pigpen, the Peanuts character who walked in a literal cloud of dirt. “Yes. I see him.”
“I was saying that he looks like my mommy because she smokes, and everywhere she goes she has smoke on her. Plus, smoking’s bad for her.”
Katy’s heart melted. She put her hand on Skyler’s shoulder. “Honey, that boy on TV doesn’t have smoke around him. He has dirt.” She wasn’t sure what to say next. Skyler’s older brother always brought him to CKT, and Katy still hadn’t met his mother. “Besides, your mommy probably started smoking a long time ago. Before people knew how bad it was.”
“No.” Skyler’s eyes were big as he shook his head. “She started after she already knew it was bad. And guess what?” This was the most Skyler had said since he’d joined CKT.
“What?”
“She drinks beer too. A lot of beer.”
She was about to launch into an explanation about how a person over the age of twenty-one could drink beer and still be okay, but Skyler started in again before she had a chance.
“She drinks two—” he held up two fingers—“six-packs a day. Every day. And she smokes.”
Katy didn’t know what to do or say. “I’m sorry, Skyler.”
“It’s okay.” He gave her a hint of a shy smile. “She loves me and she loves Jesus.” He looked at the television again. “But she looks like that boy up there.”
“All right, well—”
Before she could say anything else, he held out his arms and gave her a hug.
When he let go, he looked happier than he had all day. He leaned close so his whisper could be heard only by her. “Guess what else?”
“What?” She had to work to hear him.
“You’re invited to my birthday party,” he said proudly.
Katy spread her fingers on her chest. “I am?” Her surprise and delight were genuine. “When is it?”
“December.” Skyler frowned. “I don’t have invitations yet.”
“That’s okay.” Katy bit the inside of her lip so she wouldn’t giggle. “You have eight months, honey.”
He nodded. “That’s what my brother said.”
Katy gave the redheaded boy a look that said everything was under control before she returned to her seat.
While the video finished playing, the conversation with Skyler played over in her mind. Their talk stirred up a handful of deep emotions, all of which filled her heart.
First, she was reminded that the kids in her care didn’t all come from families like the Flanigans. Christian Kids Theater was a haven, a welcoming place for anyone who loved Jesus and loved theater. Even if the practical side of living out that love wasn’t quite where it needed to be.
Also, their talk made her more aware of the shy kids in their mix. Drama programs often attracted the outgoing, over-the-top children. The ones with more confidence than they knew what to do with. But it also attracted the kids who wanted that confidence but had always found themselves on the outside looking in. Kids with difficult home lives and troubled backgrounds.
Kids like Skyler.
God—Katy stared at her lap and closed her eyes for a moment—thank You for that precious boy, for letting us talk tonight and for using him to make me see—once more—my purpose here. This is where I belong; it’s where You’ve called me. I promise You, Lord, I’ll be faithful to these kids until You tell me it’s time to move on.
Daughter . . . I know the plans I have for you.
The whisper was softer even than Skyler’s, but she heard it all the same. It was Jeremiah 29:11, her special Scripture, the one that adorned her key chain and the plaque on the wall by her bed: “I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
Everywhere Katy looked she saw those words these days, and it was easy to take them lightly, to think that God was saying life would be all sunshine and rainbows, good plans and easily answered prayers. What most people didn’t realize about that verse was that it came in the midst of other promises—promises from God telling His people that they would also suffer great difficulties. It was what made the Christian life so dynamic. Ultimate hope and peace and joy and redemption, even in a life that would certainly have trials and temptations, tragedies and tough times.
Times like this—when she was so lonely she wondered if God had forgotten about her.
You’re here, Lord. I feel You . . . I hear You. Thanks for reminding me with Skyler.
The video ended a few minutes before nine, and Katy had the kids form a circle. They held hands and Tim Reed—who was playing the oldest of the four children who stumble into Narnia in this production—led them in a tender rendition of “I Love You, Lord.”
When they reached the end, and the children formed one voice singing to God, asking that He might find joy in what He heard, Katy had no doubt that He would.
Somewhere God was smiling.
It took half an hour for all the kids to leave, and only then did Katy drive home with Bailey and Connor.
“I think it’s coming along.” Bailey was in the front seat. “Most of the leads know their lines already.”
“Yes.” Katy kept her eyes on the road. The storm had tapered off, and it wasn’t raining anymore. “That’ll help over the next few weeks.”
“Right, and there’s good chemistry onstage.” Connor poked his head between the two of them. “I can feel it up there.”
“It helps that the White Witch’s dwarf is none other than her own brother.” Katy tossed him a quick grin. “You’re doing great, Connor.”
“Thanks.”
Katy remembered what Dayne had said about the show. That it had the feeling of something special, something powerful. In fact, twice Alice Stryker had been to rehearsals. More than six months had passed since her daughter was killed in the car accident, the one that had rocked CKT and all of Bloomington. Alice seemed to be changing, growing closer to God, with every passing week. She was still attending the Flanigans’ Bible study, and last time Katy saw her, her eyes shone with something that mixed sweet sorrow with unspeakable joy.
“They’re coming to the show.”
Katy hadn’t been sure what Alice meant. “Your family?”
“No.” Alice’s eyes had grown damp. “The little girl who received Sarah Jo’s eyes. The family wanted to stay in touch with me.” There was a humility in Alice that hadn’t been there before the accident. “They’re praying for us.”
“And they’re bringing their daughter to Narnia?” Katy couldn’t imagine what that would be like, how she’d feel looking into the eyes of a stranger and knowing they had once belonged to Sarah Jo.
“Yes. They don’t want everyone knowing, but they said I could tell you and the leadership team.”
Memories of that conversation lifted, and Katy drew a long breath. “Yes, Connor. I think the show’s going to be just great.”
When they got home, Katy and the kids met Jenny and Jim in the kitchen, and the group talked as they shared a bowl of grapes. They discussed the storm and rehearsal and how the kids wouldn’t calm down.
Not until Bailey and Connor had gone to bed and Katy was almost ready to turn in for the night did Jenny give her a suspicious smile. “There’s something waiting for you in your room.”
“For me?” She stood and gathered her backpack and notebook. “Who’s it from?”
“I told her not to look at the card.” Jim’s tone was light, teasing. “But you know Miss Nosy here.”
Jenny gave Katy a mysterious look; then she laughed. “I can’t tell. Jim made me promise.”
“Okay, then.” Katy was curious. Maybe Terr
ence C. Willow had sent a book on the dangers of cherry garnishes. He’d already e-mailed her a Time magazine article on the danger of pop and the likelihood of getting pepto-something-or-other from the rat droppings that collect along the top of pop cans.
Everything about Terrence had become a private joke between Katy and those closest to her—especially Jenny. By the expression on Jenny’s face, she could only believe that whatever was in her room, Terrence was somehow behind it.
She waved at Jenny and Jim. “On that note, I’m off to bed.”
Jenny looked like she wanted to follow her, but Jim held her back. The couple laughed, and they all said good night.
Katy trudged up the stairs to her apartment over the garage. Friday nights were always the longest—especially with Saturday morning rehearsal just nine hours away. She opened the door and caught her breath.
“What in the world . . . ?” She set her things down on the computer desk to her right and stared at her small round dining table. In the center was a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, more beautiful and breathtaking than any she’d ever seen. Katy breathed in deeply.
The entire room smelled wonderful.
They couldn’t be from Terrence, could they? He’d expressed his interest in dating her, but she’d told him three times already that she was too busy. That was easier than getting into the deeper reason—that she couldn’t bear the thought of spending another hour with him.
So who would’ve sent flowers? Certainly not Dayne. He hadn’t even called to say if he’d gone to Mexico. Were they from a parent, maybe? Someone in CKT? She took slow steps until she was close enough to see the little white envelope positioned in a plastic holder and stuck discreetly near the center of the arrangement.
She pulled a slender card from inside and began to read:
Katy . . . Mexico was amazing!
Her eyes closed, and she held the card close to her heart. They were from Dayne! He’d gone to see his friend after all. She blinked and kept reading:
Miss you more than you know. We need to talk face-to-face. Maybe at the trial, since I’m working every day until then. You were wrong, by the way. I do love you.