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Authors: Lisa T. Bergren

BOOK: Chosen
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The man frowned and studied Ridge for a moment longer. Then he waved for his men to lead the intruders away, exhausted after monitoring the tension-filled hours of upheaval on the Haram.

All three men had to be dragged from the site.

Two hours later Samuel Roarke Sr. had finally convinced several key officials that his daughter might indeed be trapped beneath the Haram. In conjunction with an investigation geared toward measuring
the damage that had been inflicted by the renegade Hamas troops, the authorities allowed a team of government employees to remove the iron ramp from the entrance to the dig site.

Furious at the delay, Ridge spoke to no one. He glared at the soldiers as he passed the checkpoint, certain they had carelessly endangered Alexana’s life even further. Desperately, he called out in prayer to the Lord but found no comfort. He was too wrapped up in his own anger to sense God’s presence.

This left him feeling cold and empty, and fearful that he had lost the one woman he had loved the most.
Dear God,
he petitioned,
please let her be okay. Is this emptiness I feel a sign that she is dead?
The thought alone made him want to give in to stomach-wrenching sobs. He swallowed hard against the ache in his throat, determined not to cry. Instead, he concentrated on his fury.

To him, the team seemed to take an interminable amount of time to get the steel ramp away from the entry. Ridge paced and desperately searched his soul for the warm comfort he had once found in the Church of All Nations.
I let go of myself,
he remembered.
I believed. I just believed.
In his mind he could hear Alexana say it as she had that Palm Sunday.
Believe.

Immediately a rush of heat flowed through his body, and his senses seemed to sharpen tenfold. Ridge looked over at Sam and the elder Roarke, who stood beside him. “He’s here,” Ridge said firmly. “God is here. He’s been watching over Alexana. She’s alive.”

The men raised their eyebrows at his statement but nodded, seeming to find comfort in his words. They never took their eyes off the workmen.

With a deafening scrape, the plate was lifted off by huge cables, turned, and deposited back inside to once again create a walkway.
When the machinery was turned off and the dust had settled, the workers stepped forward and lined the dark hole.

A searchlight cut into the darkness below.

For a moment, no one moved. They waited, listening, as their eyes adjusted to the extreme light of the spotlight.

They were greeted by complete, utter silence.

Ridge grabbed a flashlight from a young Palestinian’s hand and rushed down the ramp. The way was clear before him, but all about, deep shadows remained. His light caught the heavy dust clouds that still stirred, and he shivered. He did not pause to consider what the frigid temperature had done to Alexana. His sole purpose was to find her.

Sam was right behind him, followed by Steve, who turned on his Betacam to film the event.

“No camera!” Ridge growled, terrified at what they might find. This was far too private a moment to let the world in on. He wanted Alexana in his arms, dead or alive, and it was nobody’s business outside of the Temple Mount’s walls what they found.

The light went off, then Steve turned it on again. “I’m not filming, man. Just using the light.”

Ridge turned face forward again and shouted. “Alexana!”

“Alexana!” Sam repeated.

There was no response to their cry.

“Alexana!” Sam called again.

“Over here!” Steve yelled. He swore softly as he hastily set aside his camera and ran toward the woman.
“Over here!”
he shouted again, fighting to keep the edge of hysteria from his voice. He lifted her hand, deadly cold, as Ridge reached them.

Grimly, Ridge felt for a pulse. “Come on, Sana, come on,” he muttered forcefully between clenched teeth. The three men waited silently, not daring to breathe. At long last, Ridge laughed gleefully. “I feel a heartbeat. It’s faint, but she’s alive!”

Sam ran to the base of the ramp to call for help. “She’s down here! We need an ambulance!”

Ridge found a rock and pounded at a rusty link in the chains that held Alexana. As the bindings broke, he tenderly lifted her in his arms, emotions flooding his heart.

He carried her to the ramp, looking up into the stream of light as if he were climbing toward the gates of heaven. “I’ve got you, love. You’re going to be okay, Sana,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, as much for himself as for her. “God’s seen you through too much to let you die now.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Ridge continued gently as he reached the top and was surrounded by people. In a moment that felt surreal, he walked toward a medical chopper, its blades whirring soundlessly.

To Ridge, it felt as though he and Alexana were alone on the Temple Mount with God himself. From above, a brilliant column of light—which he later learned was more searchlights—followed their path. As the helicopter lifted her away, the
whopping
sound suddenly became audible to him, and Ridge looked across the column of light.

For one short instant, Ridge could have sworn he saw a bearded man in rags.

Behind the beggar stood two men in robes.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the only people visible were soldiers.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
HREE
J
UNE
19

A
lexana was released from Jerusalem’s Hadassah Hospital three days later after being treated for dehydration, hypothermia, and a broken clavicle. As she walked toward him, Ridge grinned until his cheeks hurt.

“How come you look like a kid who’s just run across an abandoned ice-cream truck?” Alexana asked with a smile, reaching up to kiss him lightly.

He gathered her into his arms, mindful of her shoulder, and whispered in her ear. “Because you’re better than any ol’ ice cream truck. You’re the Dreyers of women. The Häagen-Dazs of the female gender.”

Alexana laughed and shook her head. “Reaching pretty hard for those analogies, aren’t you, my love?”

He smiled back into her eyes. “Perhaps. Are you a free woman now?”

“For the next twenty-four hours at least. It looks like it will be a while until we get the okay to go back and do the paperwork on our dig.”

Ridge nodded, sobering at the mention of their harrowing night at the Haram. “Come on,” he said, motioning toward his rental car. “I want to go for a drive. I need to see the ocean, take a breather from Jerusalem life.”

Alexana looked at him with a question in her eyes. “What about work?”

“What about it? You’re more important.” He took her hand and studied her intently. “Alexana, you’re the most important person in my life. You taught me what love was all about. Work’s important. But as I’ve said before, I’d leave the best job in the world if keeping it meant I couldn’t be with you.”

Alexana studied him, thinking. “Let’s go for that ride.”

Two hours later they reached a resort town on the coast. Leaving their things in the car, they hurried to catch the last rays of sunset on the beach. Alexana walked behind Ridge, carefully placing her feet inside his imprints in the sand. She could feel the contours of his toes, heels, and soles in the cold, wet grains. The sensation was oddly intimate. “Ridge,” she said.

He stopped and turned, waiting for her to go on.

“I’m so glad you chose me, Ridge.” She looked up at him in wonder. “I’m so glad you asked me to marry you.”

“You are?”

His voice was hopeful, without ego. To hear it coming from a man like Ridge brought tears to her eyes. “I did a lot of thinking in the hospital,” she continued. “About what I want for us. And I was wondering if maybe you and I should synthesize careers somehow. You know, you document archaeological digs or I become a full-time news resource.”

Ridge shook his head, not understanding her lead. “But why?”

“Well, Mr. McIntyre, at one point you asked me to marry you,” she said as if it were obvious.

“And you asked me back,” he said with a smile, waiting for her to go on.

“I’m not going to stay at home while you risk life and limb alone on some assignment in a war zone, or let us work ourselves to pieces while seeing each other only twice a month at some rendezvous point like Paris or Nairobi. As romantic as that might seem at first, it’s not what I want for my family.”

“Okay.” He kept his eyes on hers, listening carefully.

“I do want a family, Ridge. A house. A home. And a husband who will live long enough to see our children grow up. I want to work for God’s glory, not my own. My time at the Haram showed me that no matter what I do, no matter what I discover or what I accomplish, it can be destroyed in seconds. But God—our God, Ridge—he’s eternal. He saved me. I know he was there.”

He nodded, understanding at last. “But you’re the one who almost got yourself killed three days ago. I’m not the one who was kidnapped by the head of Hamas or left for dead at the bottom of the Temple Mount.”

Alexana looked down at her bare feet, then back at up at him. She pulled off her glasses.

“Uh-oh,” he said with a laugh. “I’m in for it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“You always pull the glasses off when you want to drive home a point.”

Alexana gave him a tiny half smile. “Yes, well listen to this one, Ridge. I admit that I made a mistake at the Haram. I put my work ahead of my life. I risked not only
my
life, but the lives of my crew. I thank God every day that I am not responsible for getting any of
my people killed. Being trapped in the stables made me think.
Really
think. I even felt like I saw a vision, a tiny glimpse of God. And it overwhelmed me.

“My work is important. Even though the inscription we found under the Haram is gone now, we still have it on film. And this find will go down as one of the greatest in history. But was it worth risking my future with you? What we have together? No. For me, nothing is that important. I’ve come to that decision, Ridge. Have you?”

He looked back out to sea, his expression unreadable. “I told you I’d leave if I had to, but it’s tough. I have to choose: you or my job.”

Alexana fought the hurt that threatened to creep into her voice. “Not your job, Ridge. Your current position. And I’m not forcing you to do anything. This is up to you. I love you, no matter what you decide. I’m simply asking you to consider our future.”

“I suppose life with you will be full of tough decisions,” he said slowly, carefully.

Alexana managed a small smile. “Does that mean you’ll consider it?”

He looked directly into her eyes and spoke with confidence. “Alexana Roarke, I love you. All the way. Forever. You’re right. I don’t want you to be in harm’s way. It’s not fair to ask you to feel anything different.”

Alexana smiled broadly and threw her good arm around Ridge’s waist. Bringing his arm around her shoulder, he pulled her tightly against him. They looked out to sea together, watching for a long while as the sky faded to a deep amethyst and a few stars faintly twinkled.

“We’ll work it out somehow,” Alexana said finally.

“Yes, we will,” Ridge agreed, pulling her in front of him and kissing
her forehead. “I know it.” He looked into her eyes and reached for her hand, placing it over his heart. She felt the rhythm of his strong pulse and smiled up into his eyes. “I know it
here,”
he whispered earnestly.

“You
believe,”
she said through her tears. “In us. In God. In our future.”

“I do,” he said, his voice returning with a laugh. “How ‘bout a jaunt through the stars, Wendy?” he quipped, picking her up in his arms.

“Anytime, Peter Pan,” she said, her smile broadening. “Anytime.”

 

 

Dear Reader:

In 1990 I was in Utah when my cousin Bob called, inviting me to visit him and his wife, Pam, in Jerusalem. On fire for Christ, I went. The experience was life changing. Easter in the Holy City was something I’ll never forget, and many of my experiences wound up in this novel.

I spent nearly a month in Israel and Egypt and over three days on a whirlwind bus tour of archeological sites with the École Biblique. There I was, hanging out with a bunch of priests and monks and scholars—“the boys and me”—in the middle of Israel! I witnessed a right-wing Israeli group take over a Palestinian block in the Old City, which culminated in protests and tear-gassing; the Old City at the height of emotion during Easter, Passover, and Ramadan; a Palm Sunday processional from Bethany; an Easter sunrise service from the Mount of Olives.

It was in Jerusalem that Bob talked about a man I
had
to meet, one he thought might be able to carry the other half of my own yoke, a man who two years later asked me to marry him. (I accepted!)

I cannot express what it means as a Christian to walk where the Savior walked. Biblical text comes alive; the Spirit moves in a palpable way; one stands still long enough to sense that God is present. These are the emotions and passions I hoped to convey in
Chosen.
My goal was to spin an adventurous romance, a hold-on-to-your-hat tale, while still touching upon something vital to us all: salvation. I hope it moved you in some way or, at the very least, gave you an armchair visit to Jerusalem.

All my best to each of you,

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