Beyond Reach (16 page)

I chuckle as I hit Send. Talk about roping somebody into something. And my trick works, because now I get a reply.

His little joke seems like an invitation to e-mail back. And we actually go back and forth a few times. And by the time I sign off for good, I'm feeling hopeful. Maybe Garrett really isn't the guy in my visions. Maybe he's just a frustrated science geek who needs a friend. I'll keep praying for him.

The next day, I'm not terribly surprised that Garrett's not at school. But I seriously miss him in chemistry. Even so, I try to take notes and make some calculations and predictions and things. Still, I'm in over my head. Way over my head. After school, Olivia takes me to the church for my little “counseling session” with Pastor Ken. Of course, she knows what's up and doesn't mind waiting for me. Especially since I promised to accompany her to the craft store when we're done—to shop for decorations for the dance.

“So what brings you here today?” Pastor Ken finally asks me after a couple minutes of obvious small talk.

I suppress a flutter, feeling of nervousness and attempt to begin what turns out to be a fairly lengthy explanation of my gift and how my dad recognized it early on, how my grandmother had the same gift, and how I've recently put it
to use with Ebony on the police force. And by the time I'm done, Pastor Ken has a slightly stunned look on his face. I'm not sure he's even taking me seriously.

“I know this must all sound pretty strange,” I say quickly. “But I'm not making it up.”

He shakes his head. “No, I don't think you're making it up, Samantha. It's just that in all my years of counseling members of the congregation, well, I've never run into anything like this.”

“Does it bother you?” Okay, I'm feeling a little defensive now. Like what is he saying? Am I some sort of spiritual misfit? Does he think my gift is bogus? Or that it's no! of God?

He smiles. “No, it doesn't bother me. But I'm at a bit of a loss for words at the moment.” He reaches for his Bible now. “Do you mind if I read some Scripture to you? And to me?”

“No, of course not.”

He flips through the thin pages. “This is from the Gospel of John, chapter 16.” He clears his throat and reads.

He looks up at me. “Do you know what that's about, Samantha?”

The Holy Spirit?” I venture hopefully.

He smiles. “That's right. Shortly before the Crucifixion, Jesus was talking about how the Holy Spirit would come to us and say things and show us things. Scripture also speaks of other gifts that will come through the Holy Spirit, some that are unexplainable and unimaginable. But if they are from God, they bring glory to Him.”

I consider this. “Do you think my gift is from God?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it is.”

“What makes you think that?” He's leaning forward as if my answer really interests him.

“Partly because of the way it comes to me. It's so out of the blue, and it just feels like God to me. But then it's always about helping someone who's in a tough situation. And it makes me really care about people—sometimes people that I would've otherwise ignored. And then I begin to pray for them, and it makes me want to help them in whatever way I can. That seems like God to me.”

He smiles. “Yes, it seems like God to me too, Samantha.”

Then I tell him about how I keep this thing secret, how it seems important to remain as anonymous as possible.

“That must be tricky when you're assisting the police.”

“I work primarily with one detective, Ebony Hamilton. She used to be my dad's partner.”

He nods. “Yes, I've met her before. Fine woman.”

So then I tell him about Ebony's job proposition to me. And he listens carefully. “But I just wasn't sure,” I finally say. “I wondered if it was wrong to receive money for using my God-given gift.”

“Do you think it's wrong?”

“I'm not sure. I don't want to misuse or abuse it. I'm pretty sure God would take it away from me if I did.” Then I tell him about the brief period of quiet, after telling God I needed a break during the holidays, and how worried it got me.

“I mean, if God decided it wasn't good to give me this gift, I guess I'd have to understand and accept it. And I know He'd still talk to me in other ways. But I want to be careful with it. If it's wrong to be paid, I don't want to be paid. But I just don't know. That's why I wanted to talk to you, Pastor Ken. Ebony thought it was a good idea too.”

“Well, as you know, many of God's servants are paid for using their gifts. Take me, for instance, I have a gift of pastoring, teaching, counseling…and I am on salary at the church.”

“I know.”

“And there are people who are gifted in music, and many of them receive payment for those gifts.”

“I know that too.”

And he goes on and on, mentioning all kinds of people who are involved in ministries and things—all who receive money for it. “Do you think that invalidates their gifts? Does that make it wrong?”

“I guess not.”

“As in all things, you need to search your own heart and listen to that still, small voice of the Holy Spirit, Samantha. I'm sure there are some instances when it would be wrong to take payment for a God-given gift. For instance, I would never allow anyone to pay me for praying for them. That would be wrong.”

“I saw a TV evangelist doing that once,” I point out. “But I thought it was wrong.”

He holds up his hands. “And yet I don't think I'd want to be the judge of others.”

I consider this. “I guess I wouldn't either. But I still think it's tacky.”

He laughs and winks at me. “I do too.”

There's a brief silence now, and I wonder if we're done here.

“Do you know what you want to do after high school? Do you have a career direction yet? A college picked out?”

So I tell him about my love of law enforcement and crime solving, and he nods and smiles. Then it seems to make perfect sense. God has given you a very special gift, Samantha, and it seems He wants you to use it. It also seems a bit ridiculous to think of you working for free.”

I brighten. “So you think it's okay?”

“I think it's okay. But it's more important that you believe
God
is telling you it's okay. It's good to seek counsel and advice, but it's just as important to hear what God is telling you.” Then he jots something down on a slip of paper and slides it across the table. “Read these Scriptures tonight.”

Okay.”

“And keep me informed of what's going on,” he says. “This is very interesting to me. In fact, I'd love to discuss it with Ebony Hamilton.”

“I'll let her know.”

“And you can trust your secret with me, Samantha.”

I smile. “I thought so.”

“One small word of caution to you though.”

“What's that?”

“So much of life is about balance, Samantha. I think I appreciate that more the older I get. As your pastor and friend, I encourage you to maintain balance in your life.”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Well, you're a teenage girl. And you'll only be a teenage girl once in your lifetime. It's a delightful time for all sorts of delightful things. And I'd hate to see you getting so bogged down in the heavy world of crime and such…so much so that you miss out on some other more frivolous things. I do believe that God wants you to enjoy your youth too. So to do that and keep balance, I think you'll have to lean heavily on God.”

I nod. “Yes, I think you're right. And I do try to lean on Him.”

“Good.” He shakes my hand and reminds me to stay in touch. And I feel as if a load's been lifted as I rejoin Olivia where she's been waiting outside his office.

“Everything go okay?” she asks hopefully.

So I tell her about our conversation as she drives us to Craft World to shop for the dance decorations. We have a budget of one hundred dollars to get everything we need to make the cafeteria look like a romantic setting for a Sweethearts Ball. I tell her I'm imagining lots of pink and red crepe paper and maybe some goofy-looking cupids slapped on the walls.

Of course, Olivia says that'll look like a kindergarten project. I'm thinking I don't really care. Mostly I can't wait to call Ebony and tell her the good news! Well, after I read whatever it is that Pastor Ken wrote down. Hopefully it won't change anything.

W
ho's going to blow up all those balloons?” I ask when Olivia and I are finally done with our mad hunt for Valentine's decorations. The lesson to be learned here is that you shouldn't wait until a week before Valentine's Day to shop for decorations. It's taken four different stores and three and a half hours, including a short dinner break, but I think we've got it bagged. We better since we ran out of money about thirty bucks ago. Olivia chipped in.

“We'll get the sophomores to do the balloons,” she says as she backs out of the parking spot. They're probably full of hot air.”

“How about some hot air in here.” I rub my hands together. It's been raining like crazy all night long, and it feels like I'm soaked clear through.

“I hope we got enough balloons.” Olivia turns up the heat as she drives through a puddle that shoots out on both sides.

“I think you got every red, pink, and white balloon in town. What're we going to do with all of them anyway?”

“We'll make an archway shaped like a heart to be set by the entrance. Couples can get their pictures taken in it. Kind of like prom.”

Only cheesier,” I add. “If that's even possible.” Okay, neither of us actually went to the prom last year, but we heard it was pretty lame, with their “space age” theme. Kind of like a kiddie birthday party.

“For a smart girl, you sometimes lack imagination, Sam.”

Of course, I know what she means by this. She's implying that my imagination works great when I'm dealing with things like unsolved crimes, but when it comes to balloons and crepe paper, I'm pretty hopeless.

“Do you think I'm unbalanced?” I suddenly ask.

“What?” She glances at me then back to the wet black road. “You mean as in unstable? Crazy? Bonkers?”

“Unbalanced as a person, like I focus too much on heavy stuff like solving crimes.”

“Did Pastor Ken say something to make you think that?”