Life Support (39 page)

And Alexia caught a glimpse of life lived outside the bounds she'd set for herself—an existence beyond the controlled world where she lived in self-protected isolation, occasionally riding forth to right a wrong and then retreating to the refuge of her home and the walls of her mind. There was something more, a broader sphere of influence, a chance to effect change on a deeper level, a greater risk, a greater reward. She wasn't sure what it looked like, but the new light within her birthed an ache to know.

God answered her grandmother's prayers.

32

The policeman's lot is not a happy one.

SIR WILLIAM GILBERT

T
ed and Alexia had a quiet dinner. Normal conversation was difficult because every time Alexia began to speak she quickly progressed to tears.

“This isn't like me,” she insisted. “I'm not a weepy woman, but both times I've come to your house I've ended up crying.”

“Don't worry about it,” Ted reassured her. “They're good tears.”

“I know,” Alexia sniffled. “But you talk, I'll listen.”

“What about all the questions you were going to ask me?”

Alexia shook her head. “That's not on the menu.”

Ted smiled. “Okay. Let's talk about you. Some people let their emotions dribble out a little bit at a time. Others store their feelings in great cisterns that only crack open when there is an earthquake.”

Alexia's eyes glistened. “That's me, and my world has been shaken tonight.”

Ted continued. “When God touches a person, it's also like a great symphony—simple yet complex. There are common themes of love, forgiveness, repentance, and faith that are not .complicated, but the way they play out in each individual's experience is unique and special.”

“That's true. I felt so special. It was the way my grandmother made me feel only greater. I wanted the words she'd spoken to me to come true.”

“And you're sure it happened?”

Alexia put her hand over her heart. “Yes. It wasn't just a thought. There was substance to it like waves washing over me when I'm at the beach. It was unlike anything I've ever imagined about God. He wasn't far away; he was with me under the trees. It was amazing.”

“That's why they call it amazing grace.”

They finished the meal by each eating a generous piece of cheesecake.

As they cleared the table together, Ted asked, “Would you like to go to the church for a few minutes?”

Alexia nodded.

It was the trailing edge of dusk as they walked across the parking lot to the church. Several stars were already in view. Ted unlocked the door, and they entered the sanctuary. It was dark inside, and Ted turned on the lights in the narthex.

“Do you want me to play the piano?” he asked.

“Yes,” Alexia said simply.

“I don't need the lights in the sanctuary,” he said as they walked to the front. “These will be enough. Often, I play when it's totally dark.”

Alexia nestled on a pew near the piano with her legs curled up beneath her.

“Any requests? Beethoven, Liszt, Ravel?” Ted asked. “I forgot to bring a glass for tips.”

Alexia shook her head. “Not them. I want something by Ted Morgan. A new composition.” She paused. “I'd like you to play what God has done in my life tonight.”

Ted exhaled slowly. “Whew. You've asked a hard thing. I'm not sure I fully understand, myself.”

“I trust you.”

Ted turned toward the keyboard, bowed his head, and put his hands on the keys. Over a minute passed before he began to play. Alexia waited. He began. The notes were tentative at first and doubts rose in Ted's mind that challenged his ability to duplicate in music the work of the Holy Spirit. But as he persevered, he realized that hesitancy was part of the story. It reflected the condition of Alexia's heart as she drove up to the parsonage and got out of her car.

With growing confidence, he played the prayers of Alexia's grandmother and brought forth the magnificence of Matthew 5:14.
You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.
It was a scripture both intensely personal and profoundly universal. Chords built to crescendos that called out to the nations to come into the light. Nuances of healing, forgiveness, deliverance, and submission followed. He was in the midst of a strong progression that proclaimed the dawning of a new day of influence when suddenly, he stopped.

Alexia, who was sitting with her eyes closed, opened them.

“Why did you stop?” she asked. “It was glorious. I could see glimpses of myself and what I felt in the music.”

Ted turned sideways on the piano bench. Alexia's face was hidden in the shadows cast by the diffused light from the narthex behind her.

“That's where you are,” he answered. “In the middle of the beginning. The rest will depend on what you do from this night forward.”

After Alexia left, Ted stayed in the sanctuary. His plans for a romantic evening had been totally eclipsed by the intervention of God in Alexia's life. He began to play quietly. Whether there would be any type of relationship between himself and Alexia Lindale beyond being members of God's family was less clear now than when the evening began. One thing Ted had learned better than most people was patience. He would rather wait for God than rush ahead into something that fell flat when human energy waned. Tonight, all that mattered was the wooing of a new soul into the kingdom of God. He transitioned into a piece by Bach that expressed the joy of salvation.

When Alexia awoke the following morning, she lay quietly in bed for several minutes. The supercharged emotions of the previous evening were gone; however, a sense of peace remained. She didn't have to get out of bed to prove anything to herself or anyone else. She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes for a Saturday morning nap, but a loud bark from Boris reminded her of practical responsibilities. She went downstairs to let her pets outside and fixed a cup of coffee.

A typical fall mist rose over the marsh, and there was a snap of coolness in the air as she sat on the screened porch. Before going to sleep, Alexia had found the box of childhood mementos containing the paper on which her grandmother had written Matthew 5:14. The small square piece of paper was protruding from a pocket-size New Testament Alexia had forgotten about. Her grandmother had written Alexia's name and the date in the front of the New Testament and given it to her at the same time she wrote out the verse. When she saw her grandmother's spindly handwriting, Alexia bit her lip to hold back more tears.

Alexia had always focused on her romantic Russian heritage and ignored her plain roots in the black soil of central Ohio. Her mother's courage and the majesty of St. Petersburg were undeniable, but Alexia now realized that there was also treasure in a lineage of simple faith. Opening the New Testament, she began to read. Within minutes she was caught up in Matthew's narrative and didn't stop until she reached the end of the book. When she finished, she stood and stretched, amazed that she had enjoyed reading the Bible, a book she had always considered dull and disjointed. It was her first interested look at an overview of Jesus' life and ministry and further internal proof of a change in her heart.

Boris interrupted her thoughts with a different kind of bark. She went inside and found him standing at the back door with a deep growl rumbling in his throat.

“What is it?” Alexia asked him.

Boris lifted his paw and scratched the base of the door.

Alexia opened the door, and the dog quickly skidded across the deck and down the steps. Alexia stepped outside and watched him run around the side of the house and down the unpaved road toward Pelican Point. Glancing up, she saw two men about a hundred yards away step from the scrubby trees and get into a tan van. Before Boris reached the vehicle, they backed up and turned around. From the distance, Alexia couldn't read the license plate, but she could tell it wasn't from South Carolina. Boris chased the vehicle for a few seconds and then stopped.

It was unusual for someone to drive toward Alexia's house. All the best places for fishing in the marsh were in the opposite direction. And Alexia hadn't seen any fishing poles in the men's hands.

She went inside and checked the front door to make sure it was locked.

Rena had avoided contact with her acquaintances in Santee. Normally, her social life revolved around a few tennis buddies, but she hadn't wanted to talk to anyone since returning from Greenville. That way she avoided endless explanations. The phone at her home started ringing as word spread through the community that she had returned, but she let the answering machine respond with a message that she was resting and unavailable. However, by Saturday afternoon, sitting alone watching TV for hours at a time had began to take its toll. It was almost as bad as the interminable hours with nothing to do at the hospital.

On the spur of the moment, she decided to take a ride to Charleston and do some shopping. Spending money was a trustworthy way to lift her out of the doldrums. As she walked outside to the garage, she glanced down the driveway. No cars were in sight. It was a nice afternoon, and she decided to drive her convertible. She drove down the driveway and turned left. After three quick turns, she slowed down and checked her rearview mirror. No dark blue cars in sight. If her keepers were on duty, she had caught them napping. To avoid attracting attention, she kept the top up until she reached the edge of town and then lowered it.

Driving rapidly, she took the shortest route that intersected with the coastal highway and drove toward Charleston with the wind rushing through her hair. There was a new jewelry store in the downtown area that specialized in unusual items from estates, and she wanted to check it out. It was exhilarating, and Rena felt the oppression that had stalked her since the failed attempt at the waterfall sweep out the back of the car. She drove faster in response to the rush of adrenaline. It was a glorious day. Exactly suited for a ride in a convertible.

She took several deep breaths. It was easier to think in the open air. Events and circumstances outside her control had been frustrating Rena since she received the news from Detective Porter that Baxter was alive. Now, with the money from Ezra safely in her hands, she didn't have to totally rely on Jeffrey and could maintain a level of contact with him that allowed her to use him for her purposes without becoming his pawn. With the money in her individual account she could survive several months without any outside financial help—plenty of time for Alexia to take care of the attacks that threatened her.

Several miles from the outskirts of Charleston, she flashed by a Charleston County police car waiting in the shadow of an old billboard advertising a local seafood restaurant. It took the police cruiser almost three minutes to catch her and turn on his blue light. Rena looked in the rearview mirror and turned pale. She had been driving at least twenty-five miles over the speed limit. She turned into a deserted side road, pulled onto the grassy shoulder, and leaned her head against the steering wheel.

The officer parked and strolled up to her. He was an older man with closely cropped gray hair and a large stomach that spilled over a broad, black belt around his waist. Countless late-night snacks of French fries and onion rings had come to rest around his midsection. He hitched up his pants as he reached the car.

“I'm Officer Claude Dixon. Do you know the speed limit on this road?” he asked with a deep drawl.

“Uh, I think it's fifty-five. I'm sorry if I was going too fast.”

“May I see your driver's license?”

Rena reached for her purse and looked for her wallet, but it wasn't there. She frantically rummaged through the small handbag for several seconds. Officer Dixon rested his stomach on top of the car door and leaned over her shoulder.

“It's not that big a purse. Did you forget your driver's license?”

“I'm afraid I left it in another wallet. I think it's on the kitchen counter at my home in Santee.”

The officer flipped open a small notebook and took a thick pen from his front pocket. “What's your name?” he asked.

“Rena Richardson.”

“Have you drunk any alcohol or taken any drugs in the past twelve hours?”

“No.”

The officer asked a standard litany of questions. Rena answered in a timid voice.

“Do you have the vehicle registration and proof of insurance for this car?”

Rena remembered that Baxter kept it in the glove compartment of the SUV and hoped it would be in the same place in this vehicle. She found the owner's manual and service papers but nothing else.

“No. I'm sorry. I don't know where my husband put it. He's in the hospital in intensive care, so I can't call him.”

Officer Dixon closed his notebook. Hope rose in Rena that he was going to let her off the hook.

“Have you ever been arrested?” he asked.

Rena shifted nervously. She wasn't sure how to answer. Alexia had told her the assault and battery charges had been dismissed, but she couldn't undo the arrest.

“Uh, no,” she said.

“Well, there is a first time for everything. There are too many violations for me to simply give you a ticket and send you down the road.

Please get out and come back to the patrol car.”

Rena dissolved in tears. She made no effort to open the door.

“Please, don't do this!” she wailed. “Give me as many tickets as you want!”

Claude Dixon had seen distraught women before and didn't respond. He waited until Rena came up for air before he spoke.

“Ma'am, as soon as you calm down, please get out of the car.”

Rena continued sniffling. “Why can't you give me tickets for speeding and not having my driver's license?”

“You were going over eighty in a fifty-five mile an hour zone. I also want you to undergo a blood test to determine if there is any alcohol or drugs in your system.”