Everything’s Coming Up Josey (26 page)

I hear nothing but the scribbling of pencils and I feel like my English professor on the last day of class, peering out upon her subjects. Evgeny glances up now and again, gives me a smile. All those extra hours in private tutoring have cemented his place in my heart, and if he doesn't pass this exam, it's going to cut a chunk out of me. Vera and Lera are sitting across the room from each other—my move. Not that I think they'd cheat…okay, yes, it crossed my mind. Because although I believe Lera a billion times more than Matthew, the fact is that she probably did have some part to play in the Matthew fiasco. Matthew and Rebecca and family are in France, and I received an e-mail yesterday filled with smiley face icons from Rebecca. I think that's a good sign.

I'm not sure yet how I feel about that.

The evening air carries with it the essence of summer. Freshly cut grass, the chirp of sparrows, the sun still high and pushing into the room. After the test, we're all going out to the American Grill, where Matthew is going to treat us to Oreo malts. (Okay, no, he doesn't know it yet, but that's what happens when you leave me with the petty ruble envelope!)

I fold my hands on the desk, still mulling over my conversation with Caleb, and the ensuing one with Tracey.

Alas, it wasn't pretty, despite my prayers.

See, all that angst, the bruises on my knees, for naught! I hate it when I'm right.

Only, I'm not right. Because forgiving her has not only stretched me, it's made me realize that maybe God is doing something good in me. It makes me feel at peace. Whole. Happy.

Sadly, now I don't know what to do about Chase. I look down at that desk and again, I'm doodling his name. That's about as far as I get. Because, what, exactly, do I say to him?

Hi, Chase, Just a note to let you know you were hornswaggled, and the woman you were talking to was my roomie, but that's okay, because I really love you….

Yeah, and then he deletes my e-mail and packs for Indonesia.

Probably I'm overreacting, but still, I'm wondering if this conversation might be better eyeball-to-eyeball. Or lip to lip. Yes, I have been thinking about that scenario more than that is healthy.

Only, what if he really is in love with Tracey? Her humor, her wit, her words?

Yeah, but I have home-court advantage.

Still, the fear haunts me, and has paralyzed all action.

I will always love you.

I feel a smile creep up my face as I hear Sergei rise and thump to the front of the room. He hands in his paper with a grin.
“Maladyets,”
I say to him in congratulations.

He gives me a “hang loose.” Thanks again, Chase, for that sign language lesson.

I “peace” him back, and watch him clomp out of the room. He works on a construction crew by day, and I'll miss the smell of sawdust as well as his smile.

In fact, I'll miss them all. Evgeny's melted-chocolate eyes, Lera and Vera's giggles, Sergei's I-ron. I'll miss the way they look at me like I might have answers, even wisdom. I'll miss their chuckles when I try and use my own pitiful, Tonto Russian.

In fact, I think that, without knowing it, I've given them a rather large chunk of my heart. The thought sweeps my breath away and my eyes burn.

Lord, I pray that You would give them a spirit of wisdom and revelation so that they might know You better. Know their salvation, the richness of being Your children and the resurrection power that You give.

Yeah, that feels right.

Evgeny rises, brings his exam to the front.
“Spaceeba,”
I say.

“You're welcome,” he answers with a grin. I could easily enjoy his smile for the next decade.

There is one consolation in my leaving—every member of my class is saved. They're all headed to Bible college, or ministry.

But, you know, I'll be leaving Tracey and Vovka and even Auntie Milla for eternity.

I put a hand to my chest, push against the sudden rush of pain. I can't help but feel that if I were taking the exam, it wouldn't take long for God to grade.

One by one, they finish and an hour later I'm locking Matthew's office. Evgeny is waiting for me, as are a handful of other students. “Let's party,” says Evgeny. Another Chase phrase.

I can't escape him.

 

It's nearly midnight and about a thousand calories later when Evgeny walks me home. I leave him at the lift (which I ride up, just for a change of pace) and my heart stops dead in my throat when I see a figure hunched over at my door.

Chase?

No, Vovka.

I try not to cringe as I draw closer, but really, didn't we talk about this? Except, he's wearing a crumpled expression, one that streaks ice through my veins. He stands and for a second I think he's going to cry.

“Vovka, what's the matter?”

He does cry. And you know how that makes me feel. I can already feel my inside start to cook.

“It's my babushka. She's had a stroke.”

What? No! I brace my hand against the wall, feeling the corridor sway. “Is she okay?”

He nods. “But she wants to see you before you leave.”

I know it is probably a bad idea, but I reach out and give him a hug. He wraps those gorgeous, muscular arms around me and holds tight. I can hear his heartbeat against his mesh shirt, feel him tremble. But there are no tingles, and any lingering doubts I had about dumping him are scuttled.

“How about we visit her in the morning?” I still have a couple days until my flight leaves, and about a billion people to shop for, but I can certainly sacrifice a morning for the woman who taught me how to use my stove, among other things.

“Thank you, Zhozey.”

Not sure why he's thanking me, especially since my breaking up with him is probably the thing that drove her over the edge.

Ouch.
Missionary Causes Death of Neighbor.

Not quite what I meant when I said I wanted to add a soul to the eternal attendance ledger.

I
am up early, due to the summer sun and the noises in the kitchen. Even for Tracey this is early….

She's packed. And hauling her bags out the door with the help of a taxi driver. While I feel like an idiot standing in my Taz T-shirt, I'm even more stunned at the cold look she gives me.

“Where are you going?”

She smiles, and yes, I feel a shiver. She's wearing a pair of black-and-orange stretch pants and a nearly mesh black top. “Gull Lake, Minnesota.”

I want to lunge for her throat, but I'm paralyzed. Frozen. My mouth opens, but no words emerge. What?

“I told you. Chase loves me, not you, and I just have to tell him who he's been writing to and he'll get it. Besides, when I add in the fact that you're still dating Vovka, what can he say?”

I blink, racing to keep up. “You're going to Gull Lake?”

She laughs, hands her bag out to the driver.

“But I'm not dating Vovka.”

“That's not what it looked like last night in the hallway.”

Huh? Oh, no, the hug!

“Tracey, you can't do this—”

She rounds on me and I freeze, because she is taller, and wears all those animal skins. Still, if she thinks she's stealing Chase…

“I'm sick of you having all the right answers, and your happy attitude all the time. You didn't even get angry when you saw I stole your computer ID—you don't deserve Chase. You dumped him and he's free game. He loves me now.”

If she wants to see me angry…“Oh, please. He doesn't even know you.”

“He will. He'll see that I'm the one who can make him happy.” She has tears in her eyes, and I'm not sure if that is an edge of desperation in her voice, or challenge. “Besides…you don't need Chase like I do.”

She turns and before I can protest, slams the door behind her.

Need Chase? I've always needed Chase. But more importantly, she's going to Gull Lake? I should have tossed her over the balcony when I had the chance.

I'm still standing there, feeling like someone scraped me over a glacier when I hear another knock. Excuse me, it's only 6:00 a.m.

It's Vovka. “You should change.”

Really? Because I thought I'd run out in my jammies. “I'll be out in a bit.”

“I'll be next door.”

Right. I shut the door, lean against it. I've sent my neighbor to the hospital and my roommate is going to sabotage the last chance I have with the man I love. Not that I have great fears that Tracey will snag him, but certainly the Vovka thing is the last thing Chase needs to hear.

I get out my laptop, turn it on, log on. Chase's ID is blank. That's right, he changed it! I open explore only to discover that Tracey has deleted her entire identity. What did he call himself?

Oh, no! I disconnect, grab the telephone. In Moscow, I have to order an international call from the operator, but my Russian is so garbled, I can barely get out, “America” before I slam down the telephone. Foiled again.

Another knock at the door. Vovka. “Are you ready?”

Do I look like I'm ready?

I smile, shut the door.

Breathe, Josey, just breathe.

Have I learned nothing this year? God is here, even in the moments when panic and jealousy reaches up and grabs me around the throat. And He'll work this out, to the praise of his glory.

Right,
right?
I so want to believe it, as I fling open my closet and search for something clean.

But, what if? What if Jungle Jane does woo him with her…pheromones, or something, and he runs off to the Congo with her? Or, and more likely, he slams the door on Tracey, but also on Josey, because she is
still dating Vovka.
And then leaves for…wherever, with no forwarding address?

This is going to get ugly. I'm seeing that time I jumped KC Johnson outside The Howling Wolf and tore my Guess jeans. Worst-case scenario has me returning to Gull Lake, right behind Tracey, waving my hands and calling her a liar. What if he decides that he likes the psychological, almost anthropological mystery that is Tracey and dumps me like one of Auntie Milla's potatoes?

Calm down.

I climb into my size ten Gap jeans and pull on a T-shirt, a feeling of foreboding clamping my chest. Because, no matter how much God loves me, I can't see how He's going to work this out to His glory.

Another knock at the door.

Vovka! No, no, it can not be happening that God should call on me right in the middle of my crisis! Can't He wait until I'm having a deep moment, maybe after I've freshly memorized a verse or just etymologized a cool Greek work?

I take a deep breath, and force my priorities into submission. I have to see Auntie Milla, and the fact that she is lying in the hospital should sober me to focus on eternity.

Lord,
I say as I shove my feet into my oh-so-dependable mules.
Please just…stop Tracey at customs or something…maybe give her a fine for all those skins?

That's the best I can do at the moment. What did you expect, more surrender? Remember, I'm Lara Croft. I don't do surrender well.

 

Russian hospitals have the smell and texture of a quick death and lots of formaldehyde. I can't escape the experience without thinking…Chechnya. Patients lie in stretchers along hallways, or even stretched out on the cement floor. Roaches crawl the walls, a few cats prowl. I stifle a shudder as I follow Vovka up the stairs and to the third floor.

I hold in a gasp as we enter a room of fifteen beds filled with frail elderly gasping their last breaths. There are no oxygen machines, no IV lines, no EKG machines. Just death, hovering, waiting for its next victim.

Auntie Milla has aged about a thousand years and lies swallowed up in a skinny bed. A stained cotton blanket covers her and she stares at the ceiling.

My throat thickens as I crouch beside her. How can this be the same woman who sliced and diced a salmon and toasted her birthday with prune cognac?

I take her hand. Her skin is soft and paper thin. “Auntie Milla?”

She cuts her eyes my direction, but doesn't move. My eyes burn, glaze, and a tear escapes. “I'm sorry,” I whisper.

Her lips move and Vovka leans down, his ear next to her mouth.

He sits on the bed, takes her hand. “She asks, why?”

Why? Why do our bodies give out? Why must she suffer? These questions are over my head and I just take her other hand. “I don't know.”

“Why did you come here?”

I look up at him, and he too has questions in his pretty eyes. “Why, Zozhey?”

“Because, well…” Why? I scroll back to that moment after the wedding, H and I in the car. The gold ring. Eternal significance that makes this life worthwhile. A calling. “I came because God loves you and wants you to know it. He has a plan for us and that plan doesn't end with this life. And all He wants from us is our heart.” I smile, run my hand over Auntie Milla's cheek. “I guess that's what I'm supposed to tell you.”

Vovka smiles at me, and translates. Auntie Milla's lips move and Vovka leans over again.

“What did she say?”

He runs his fingers through her hair. “She said thank-you.”

“Pazalusta,”
I say quietly.

 

The Cathedral of Saint Basil the Blessed in Moscow has a story. It's said that when it was finished, the Czar asked the two architects if they could ever create another building so beautiful. They deliberated their answer, and decided that they would please the Czar by answering no.

He had their eyes plucked out as a guarantee.

I think of this as I stand in Red Square and stare at the church. It is beautiful. Breathtaking. Glorious. Unequalled.

But its glory doesn't compare in the least to one heart surrendered. I am raw and empty leaving Auntie Milla at the hospital. I have explained to her the particulars of salvation—the depth of our sin, Christ's overwhelming sacrifice, God's abundant grace and the hope of eternity. And, while Vovka translated, she cried.

Maybe, Lord, maybe?

I had planned to shop at the Arbat today. Instead I find myself back where I started, Red Square, pondering nine months in Russia, losing Chase, finding him, and losing him again. Most of all, finding, finally, the Josey I am. A Josey that might end up in a poppy dress once in a while, and other times in leather. A Josey that might not make an etching on the map in Moscow, but one who is just discovering God in her life, one step at a time. I'm so keenly aware that I'm saved by grace, by God's love and not my own abilities and maybe it's this discovery that is most precious. This intimacy with the Almighty is the gold, er…
brass
ring. God in me, working out His perfect plan, one day at a time. A God who chooses to makes my life significant by revealing Himself in me. To the praise of His glory.

I'm painfully aware that I might lose Chase to Tracey's schemes. But frankly, Auntie Milla's salvation is worth it.

I scatter a grouping of pigeons and head toward the Venetsia. Tracey won't get to American until tomorrow, but frankly, now that I'm past the panic, I'm going to let God be in charge of that, too.

In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Still, if when I get home on Friday I find Tracey eating
kringle
at Berglund Acres, well, she better run. Because while I'm not going to panic, I do have righteousness on my side. And this time, I'm not going to let my false expectations and fears keep me from telling Chase exactly how I feel. That my hero has been right here, chasing me all my life.

Besides, all this walking has dropped me down three sizes. And I am a lean, mean, fight-for-your-man machine. I can take Sheena.

The Venetsia is packed, and I wait for a table.

I sit and put my feet on a chair. The waiter brings me a lemon slushy with an umbrella. I lean back in the seat, and am pushing my straw through the ice when I see him pull up, on a motorcycle, no less. He's looking sun-buffed and a little bit chagrined. I'm going to cut him slack because although he did court the affections of another woman, he thought she was me, and that counts. And, he's looking oh, so very desperate, with his hair askew and his blue eyes searching for me.

I don't signal for him. It's good to let him look for me. Chase-Me. I can't deny the nickname feels like warm honey in my chest. He's wearing his Gull Lake sweatshirt, cut off at the sleeves, and as he strides up the sidewalk my heart does a tumble.

He's pushing through the crowd, and his eyes are on me. Blue, beautiful and full of concern. I sit up, enjoying my daydream. I do them so well, don't I? I can even smell him as he comes my direction, clean, soapy, with a touch of sweat because he's been in a hurry to get to me. His hair is touched by the sun. And he's wearing my favorite jeans and a pair of Nike running shoes.

He's so cute, isn't he?

“Hi,” I say.

About now he'll dissolve, but it's been a nice fantasy, and my heart is pounding.

Only, he doesn't dissolve. In fact…

“Josey, I found you.”

Uh,
yeah.
Because I'm in charge of this dream.

“Caleb told me where you were. I didn't think I'd remember how to get here.”

Remember? Caleb? I sit up and frown. Chase?

The waiter arrives. “Something for your friend?” he asks in Russian.

He can see Chase?

“Da,”
I say. “A slushy.”

The waiter nods, but my gaze is on Chase, a
flesh-and-blood
Chase who is sitting across from me, grinning. Oh, wow, his grin does me in. Really, I can't breathe.

“Chase,” I say and it sounds like my voice has left me for Africa.

“Hi,” he repeats and scoots his chair over to the table, takes my hand. “You're freaking me out, Josey. What's gotten into you? First you act like you don't want me, then you start e-mailing me every day—and what's with the bar scene? And all these embassy shindigs you're hanging out at? That's not you anymore…I thought you'd changed. As if you were trying to make me jealous…” He shakes his head as I try to keep up. “And the tickets to Tahiti? We've been planning for me to come over and get you for nearly a month and suddenly you send me tickets for a vacation in Tahiti? And then, when I IM you about them, you get all snippy and you tell me not to come to Russia?” He actually looks angry and I feel a little knot of panic in my chest. Tahiti? I wonder if he still has those tickets….

“I thought I knew you…but now…” He frowns and something in his look makes me want to cry. “I'm worried about you.”

So he came to Russia?