Cami wondered if she’d throw up right here on the kitchen table. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Her heart was beating so wildly, she thought it might stop altogether.
Her dad said his final words with a loud burst, every one like an arrow aimed straight for her heart. “Get. To. Your. Room!”
There was nothing Cami wanted more. She ran to the front of the house, grabbed her backpack, and sprinted down the hallway. But instead of shutting her bedroom door behind her, she left it open just a crack. She wanted a warning, wanted to know what her dad was going to do next.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to wonder. Her dad was calling someone on the phone. He was too drunk to talk quietly or in any sort of professional manner. He must’ve dialed the local newspaper. Because from where she sat, on the edge of her bed, she could very clearly hear his side of the conversation.
“Yes, this is Andy Nelson from Haughville.” His words were slurred—as much from his anger as the alcohol. “I need to talk to the main editor.” He paused. “Hurry up. It’s an emergency.”
Cami felt the floor beneath her turn liquid. Suddenly she wasn’t listening from her bedroom down the hall. She was in a ship, tossed by the worst waves any storm could ever stir up. No, God . . . please, no. This was going to ruin everything. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited.
“Hello, this is Andy Nelson.” Now he sounded almost sober. He explained that his daughter was a senior at Hamilton High, and that the principal—Wendell Quinn—was leading Bible study and prayer meetings twice a week. “He’s converting students to Christianity, and I want action immediately.”
The blood rushing through Cami’s head made it impossible to hear every word. But she caught much of it. Her dad said he was going to hire a lawyer and sue Principal Quinn and Hamilton High and the school district. Maybe the entire state of Indiana.
Whatever it took to shut down the program and see the people behind these acts punished.
The reporter must’ve promised to show up on campus the next day, because Cami heard her father repeat the name of the school. “You can see for yourself. We just had a parent meeting, and this . . . principal was actually proud of what he’d done.”
Her dad was still talking, but Cami didn’t hear another word. She ran to the bathroom and threw up. Not once but three times. Because after today, every good thing that had happened to her and to Jordy, every beautiful change that had taken place in the lives of the students at Hamilton High would all be brought to a sudden and dramatic end.
Cami couldn’t imagine the trouble they were about to be in. They would probably all be arrested for talking about Jesus on a public school campus. Their Bibles would be confiscated and maybe burned. Something awful like that. And Principal Quinn could be locked up for life. Cami began to shiver. The students and administration at Hamilton would need a miracle to survive whatever was coming next. Her father would see that people were punished to the letter of the law. She knew that much about him.
As Cami crept into bed and turned off the light, as she lay in the dark shaking with fear, she couldn’t feel even one fruit of the Spirit. Not love or joy or peace or patience. Not kindness or goodness or faithfulness or gentleness. Certainly not self-control.
But she knew this much. Even now she was not alone.
She drew a deep breath. Calm, Cami . . . you can do this. Stay with me, Jesus. Please stay. Gradually she felt control restored to her soul. Because there were two things no lawsuit or reporter or human being could ever change. First, God was with her. And second, He loved her.
Even if she was about to lose everything else that mattered.
9
Reagan couldn’t sleep. Luke had come home late again, caught up in another important case. She climbed out of bed and walked without a sound into the living room. Anxiety ran like ice through her veins.
He’d been late three times this week. Reagan didn’t want to admit it, but the problem was coming back. Luke was working too many hours, ignoring the kids and her. She dropped to the leather sofa and covered her face with her hands. Please, God . . . not again.
If she talked to him about it, he would do his best to change. But she didn’t want to always be the nagging wife. Luke needed to see this on his own. He should want to be home more than he wanted to be at the office.
What am I supposed to do, God? She leaned back and looked around the dark room. Will You please get Luke’s attention? Let him realize what he’s doing by being gone so much?
No answer came, but gradually a sense began to dawn on her. Love Luke. At first the idea grated on her. Love him? That wasn’t the problem here. It was Luke who needed to love her. Luke was the one working too late.
But the idea wouldn’t let her go. Love Luke, My daughter. That’s what I’m asking of you. If the voice that echoed in her heart was God’s, then Reagan had better listen. She sat up a little straighter.
Love Luke? Was that what God was asking of her?
It took another thirty minutes before she was sure. God wanted her to love her husband—no matter what. Her Bible study had been talking about this very thing. How to be the wife of a happy husband. The idea had seemed a little outdated at first, but every week the truth from Scripture and the stories of the women in her group were undeniable.
Bottom line, marriage took work.
It wasn’t a fifty-fifty venture. It was each person giving a hundred percent, all of the time. Because that’s what God asked of her. Not because Luke always deserved that. Some days, sure. But other times marriage simply meant Reagan needed to love Luke because that’s what God called her to do.
Period.
Reagan let the message wash over her. Love Luke. The words filled her heart and soul. Rather than hold on to her frustration she needed to turn her efforts toward serving him. Loving him. Find some way to shift her mind from his late hours to something kind she could do for him.
As a way of honoring God . . . and her husband.
Reagan thought for a minute and then it hit her.
Luke’s birthday was coming up just after Thanksgiving. All his life the family had celebrated it on or near Thanksgiving. Just last week Luke had joked about it with Tommy. He’d said something about how he never really had a birthday growing up. He had an extra-special Thanksgiving.
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. A surprise party! That’s what she could do. She would contact everyone in the Baxter family and get them on board early on. So they were all available. They’d let Thanksgiving come and go and that Sunday she would throw Luke his best birthday party ever. She would plan for the celebration and pray for her husband.
And maybe in the process she wouldn’t notice how much he was gone.
? ? ?
THE SUN HADN’T yet risen over downtown Indianapolis and already Wendell Quinn had a bad feeling. There was no reason, really. His meeting had gone without any of the complaining or arguing he’d expected. Not that everyone there agreed with Wendell or the Raise the Bar program.
But it was hard to argue with the results.
Maybe that, or maybe the fact that Hamilton High parents were too busy trying to make a living to complain. Because some of the parents definitely didn’t like the idea of their kids learning about the Bible or praying together. Wendell had overheard some of them leaving the meeting.
“It’s illegal, what that man’s doing with our kids.” The statement had come from a father who had been talking to a couple of women as they headed for the door. The man shrugged. “But hey, if it’s keeping my boy off drugs, I say more power to him.”
“Gotta hand it to the guy,” one of the women said. “I wouldn’t risk jail time for something like this.”