Makin' Miracles (25 page)

He looked down at her thoughtfully. “You know, I've been a Christian since just a boy, but I really marvel, Zola, at how God uses His ways to show you things the way He does.”

Zola started to respond, but Magee shook his head at her. “Yeah, I know stuff like this is in the Bible, Zola, but somehow folks don't expect it to still be happening today.”

Spencer grinned. “I don't think folks expected to see it that much in the Bible days, either, Bill. Things haven't changed that much.”

“Well, I reckon that's true. We're all real interested in saying we believe in the supernatural of the Bible until we get confronted with it in the here and now.”

Zola held up a hand to Bill. “Thanks for being so kind.”

He took her hand and patted it. “You just rest and get over this. I guess it was a bit of a scare for you, seeing what you did.”

Spencer walked out to the car with Chief Magee.

“Do you think Juan really murdered his wife, Bill?”

“It will be easy enough to check it out.” His voice trailed away. “In this business, I frequently find the perpetrator of a crime is right in the victim's family. Sad to learn it, but it's often true.”

“Well, thanks for being so willing to check this out and for not ridiculing Zola.” Spencer took Bill's hand in a firm handshake.

“I don't always understand Zola, but I'm fond of her. She's got a good heart, and things she's seen have helped a lot of folks.” He frowned. “I don't mind her getting mixed in an investigation like I mind that crazy fortune-teller on the highway putting her oar into things.”

“Madame Renee?”

“Miss Mildred Renee Dupler has caused problems in these parts for nigh about twenty years.” He shook his head. “It's rare anything she says she sees in her cards or her crystal ball amounts to anything. Most times, it just causes a bunch of trouble for folks. Like that business with Aldo Toomey and now this with Ben Lee. I've had to put staff out looking for a kidnapper due to the publicity generated by Renee's predictions. People are gullible about believing fortune-teller nonsense.”

Spencer kept his voice casual. “Do you think Madame Renee will try to cause trouble for Zola if this murder turns out to be legit?”

“Only if she gets wind of it somehow.” He got in his car. “I'll keep an eye on it, Spencer, if this comes to anything.”

Z
ola didn't usually travel to Mooréa in summer, during the height of the tourist season in Gatlinburg, but this time was an exception. She simply had to get away. Pressures coming against her were intense, and she'd lost her peace. And her confident faith.

She sat now on the shady veranda of her father's house, high on a hill above the coast at Temae. Down through the palms and trees around the island house, she could see the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean spread out before her. She had taken many calming walks up the beach in these last days, letting the sound of the ocean waves soothe her soul.

Hearing the door open, Zola looked up to see her father coming out to join her, carrying his morning coffee and the newspaper.

He sat down at the table with her. “You're beginning to look more rested, daughter.”

Seeing his kindly, familiar face, Zola felt a surge of love.

Stanford Devon crossed an ankle over his knee and began to study the newspaper while sipping his coffee.

His dark hair was graying and receding from his forehead now, and age lines marked his face, but the same peace Zola always remembered still radiated from him. Her mother told her it was this same peace that always so soothed his patients. Stanford Devon had always been a man confident that he was in the will of God for his life. Zola envied him that right now.

He glanced up to catch her eyes studying him. “Ready to talk yet, Zola?”

She smiled at him. “There's not much more to say than what I've told you. I know you've talked to Nana Etta. You know what happened.”

His eyes moved to her open Bible, still on the table from her morning devotions. “It was a hard vision you were given.”

Zola bit her lip. “Do you think the Lord is going to start giving me this sort of sight on a regular basis, Daddy? Do you think He's changing my gift, escalating the kinds of things I will have to see?”

His eyes moved out over the ocean view in thought.

“I don't know, Zola, but I doubt it.” He took another sip of his coffee. “It seems to me this was an unusual situation.”

“It was a frightening situation. And I know that fear and faith are opposites.” She clenched her hands anxiously. “I didn't act in faith when I saw this murder, Daddy. I panicked. I ran. I felt terrified. I didn't act like a good ambassador for the Lord.”

“And that's worrying you, is it?”

She nodded.

His voice dropped kindly. “Have you taken it to the Lord?”

“I've tried. I cast the cares over on Him and then they keep washing back on me like the waves coming in on the beach.”

He chuckled. “It's like that sometimes. But keep working at it, Zola. Those cares will stay where they're supposed to eventually and you'll get your peace back.”

“That's what I so want, Daddy. I hate being anxious and worried, carrying problems around that I should be able to let go of.” She rubbed a hand up her arm restlessly.

“Well, then, maybe this experience will help you have a better understanding of folks experiencing the same difficulties.” He gave her an appraising look. “We all have troubling seasons. Those times disturb our lives in every way—in the physical, emotional, and spiritual sense.”

“I guess you see that often while doctoring people.”

He smiled and looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, I need to get down to the clinic soon.”

“I can come to help you later,” Zola offered.

“No need.” He folded up his newspaper. “Zola, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him.

“Tell me about this man you've met.”

Zola knew she blinked in surprise.

“Your Nana told me you've gotten serious about someone, a photographer in Gatlinburg. She and Vern like him. She says the man is worried about you, upset that you went off without telling him you were leaving.” He took off his glasses to clean them while he waited for her answer.

Zola searched for the words she needed. “I care for him, Daddy. I know he cares for me. He's experienced problems, too, that he's been working out. I tried to help him with those. And when I was afraid, it was Spencer who came to find me. I felt his strength then and was glad of it.”

She spread her hands. “But how can I ask anyone to share my life when these hard visions might begin to come my way more often? The publicity grew terrible after this, Daddy. The press learned my part in what happened with Ben Lee's daughter. It got written up in the newspaper and then the tabloids came hunting for me and hunting for Madame Renee. They wanted to sensationalize the story of the rival fortune-tellers. It was simply horrible.”

Tears started in her eyes, and Zola reached up a hand to wipe them away. “The press began to hound me in the shop and at home. They began to try to interview Spencer and my family.”

She shook her head, upset even to discuss it. “Sometimes in the past the local media picked up on some helpful counsel I gave to someone or some way I was given knowledge of something.” She searched her memory. “Like with the little boy, Eddie, who got lost in the mountains. But it didn't feel horrible like this. And the publicity passed on quickly.”

Her father dug a handkerchief out of his pocket. He was still a man who carried a handkerchief with him every day. And was always ready to offer it.

Zola wiped her eyes with it, feeling comforted with the familiarity of the gesture.

Stanford Devon crossed his leg again, thinking on what Zola had told him. “It seems to me, daughter, that a man who wouldn't stand by his woman in a time of trial like this isn't much of a man. Has your Spencer indicated that he wanted to break it off with you because of what happened?”

“No.” She admitted that with honesty. “He was angry and irritated that I got involved in the beginning. That troubled me. I would like Spencer to be one who believes in what I am, in what I hear. But after the murder came out, he said he believed God wanted to reveal it through me. He even said he thought God showed me what happened to Seng because Ben Lee prayed I would see what happened to her.”

She folded the handkerchief anxiously in her hands. “But how can I ask anyone to share a life with me if I continue to have ongoing problems like this in it? It's not fair to ask that of anyone, Daddy.”

“You said you shared his problems. Were you always patient and understanding about them?”

Zola dropped her eyes. Leave it to her father to nail her with that one.

“No.” Her answer was quiet. There was no point in trying to lie. Besides, it would have been wrong.

He smiled. “Then perhaps you need to realize that Spencer is human, too. He won't always be perfectly in tune with you or understand everything you are thinking or feeling. Nor will he always witness clearly with everything you receive from God, unless it is given to him, too. But if he loves you, he will do his best. Just as I'm sure you will do your best to understand him. That's what love is, Zola. Not always being perfect, but caring and trying. And trusting.”

He leaned over to take Zola's hand in his. “Perhaps you need to trust your love for Spencer and his love for you more. You need to trust God's love for you more, too, Zola. I don't think the Lord expects you to live alone just because He has given you a little more measure of one of His Gifts than most people walk in regularly. And I doubt He will walk you into a place like this—that is so hard—very often in your life. He doesn't usually ask us to do what we can't handle.”

He winked at her. “Plus, another time, I think you'll fight more to stay in a place of faith and not let fear overtake you.”

“Yes, I will.” And as Zola spoke these words she knew they were true. It caused a beginning sense of peace to spread over her.

Stanford Devon came over to kiss his daughter's cheek. “You enjoy a good day, daughter. Calm down, pull comfort and wisdom from the Spirit of God within you, and listen to your heart. I think you're ready to do that now.”

Zola offered a long prayer after her father left and then made her way down the familiar winding path through the palms to her hut perched high on a knoll above the sea. She'd first seen a meditation hut on the other side of the island when only a girl and later learned the legend and purpose of building one. She built this and later the one at Raven's Den in the mountains after her mother died. Her huts had always been special places to her.

A sense of peace flowed back into Zola as she sat on a rough bench, her arms on the rails of the hut, looking out over the beauty of the ocean. Hearing a noise behind her, she turned to see Spencer standing in the shadows.

Her hand went to her heart in surprise. “Spencer! Whatever are you doing here?”

His mouth quirked in a smile. “And where else would I be? Where you are is where I belong, Zolakieran Devon. Whether it be here in Mooréa or in the mountains of Tennessee or anywhere else.”

She felt the tears spill down her face at his words.

Spencer slid onto the bench, took her into his arms, and buried her face up against his chest.

“How could you leave me without coming to me, Zola? Please don't ever do that again. I love you. You're my life. I've learned I can't function or be happy without you.”

She reached up to touch his face. “I was afraid being involved with me would hurt you, Spencer—cause you more pain and problems. I thought you'd experienced enough of that in your life.”

“And you wanted to make that decision for me?” He uttered a sound of despair. “Zola, I have no life without you. Knowing you has brought me back to life. You've changed me, enriched me. Strengthened my faith. Healed my heart. Brought me happiness. Don't you know that?”

The words seemed as sweet to her as the smell of the fragrant frangipani blossoms on the nearby tropical trees.

She traced a finger down his cheek. “It might not always be easy living with me, Spencer.”

He caught her fingers in his to kiss them. “It might not always be easy living with me either, Zola. But we'll draw on each other's strengths and help each other with our weaknesses.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “And we'll always be honest with each other. That's important to me. We won't keep things from each other. And we won't run away when there's trouble. We'll run to each other.”

The beauty and rightness of the words swirled through Zola's being, filling her with gladness.

She threw her arms around Spencer, laughing and kissing him with new joy. “I am so grateful you've come, Spencer!” Her genuine laughter rang out. “However did you find me here?”

He grinned. “I went to the clinic and your father told me where I might find you.”

She felt her eyes grow wide. “You met my father?”

“Yes, and I liked him.” He looked around him. “I like it here, too. I brought my camera. I think I'll take some pictures while I'm here.”

“Is that right?” She gave him a saucy smile.

“Yes, and I thought maybe you'd like to get married here.” He ran his hands down her arms possessively. “We could enjoy a little honeymoon before we go back home. We could have one of those island weddings you were always telling me about.”

She blinked in surprise. “You mean the ones where the bridegroom rides in on an outrigger canoe to meet the bride on the shore. In native dress and everything?”

His hazel eyes flashed. “You are of Tahitian royalty, after all. It seems like it would be fitting.” He grinned mischievously. “And think how great the photographs would be!”

She swatted at him. “Leave it to you to be thinking about photographs!”

His warm eyes darkened and he leaned over to kiss her with passion. “Believe me, Zola Devon, that isn't all I'm thinking of right now.”

The anxieties of the past seemed to flow out over the ocean waves at last, without trying to return, and Zola felt her inner peace and calm flow back into her.

“I love you, Spencer Jackson.”

“And I love you, Zola Devon.”

After some glorious moments of kissing and rejoicing, Spencer pulled back with reluctance.

They both sat quietly then, elbows on the rail of the hut, looking out at the ocean together.

Spencer broke the silence. “I thought you might like to know that Madame Renee has left town.”

“To get away for a time, like I did?” Zola knew the media pressure on Renee had grown intense, too.

“No, Renee moved permanently.”

“How do you know that?” Zola turned questioning eyes to his.

“Bill Magee told me.” Zola heard him chuckle then. “Someone, probably Aldo Toomey, painted ‘Fraud' on her driveway and roof again. And the media coverage portrayed her so unpleasantly she decided to relocate. I hear she moved to live near her sister in a tourist town in North Carolina.”

Zola frowned. “I feel mean-spirited to admit how glad that makes me.”

Spencer took her hand. “Nana Etta said it's an answer to longtime prayer from many people and she told me to tell you that. She said to remind you many things that seem bad at the time work for the greater good in the end.”

“That's true.” It was wonderful how often God brought good from bad.

Joy rose up in Zola again, and she leaned over to throw herself impulsively into Spencer's arms once more, kissing him with warm abandon.

He groaned. “We'd better get married soon, Zola.”

“Yes.” She stood up, smiling. “Let's go talk to Daddy about it right now. And when we get back to the mountains, we'll have a nice reception at the church for all our friends there.”