Unexpected Dismounts (40 page)

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Authors: Nancy Rue

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Christian, #Religious, #Contemporary Women, #Christian Fiction, #Women Motorcyclists, #Emergent church, #Middle-Aged Women, #prophet, #Harley-Davidson, #adoption, #Social justice fiction, #Women on motorcycles, #Women Missionaries

BOOK: Unexpected Dismounts
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I listened with ears to hear as each of the Sisters touched us with her faith … “I feel like my past been finally washed away …” “I ain’t jus’ clean and sober—I’m clean and saved …” “I’m free. That’s all—I’m free.”

But when Desmond came up sputtering from dunking his whole head into the water, I could hear him with my very soul.

“I didn’t believe in no God when me and my first mama was on the street,” he said. “And then I did, ’cause of Big Al, and it seem like, okay, you believe and all this good stuff happen to you. I asked Mr. Chief, though—”

Desmond turned, still standing in the water, covered in gooseflesh, and my heart sank. He was looking for Chief …

Who was, indeed, there, parked in his wheelchair. With Kade at the helm.

“… ’cause I like to run everything by him, and he give me this cross to wear so when any
bad
stuff happen, I’d remember and still believe. Only, bad stuff did happen, real bad stuff, and I didn’t never wear it ’cause it didn’t stop more bad from goin’ down. That’s when I tol’ Big Al I wasn’t havin’ no baptism.” He paused for a second. Even my Desmond had to stop for a breath now and then. “They was always talkin’ about Jesus dyin’ for us and savin’ us, and I didn’t see no Jesus dyin’ for
me
and savin’
my
—behind.” His grin for me was brief, before he swallowed and worked that troublesome Adam’s apple I loved so much. “Then today, I seen him. Not
him
—but I seen Big Al almost dyin’ to save me, even though I steal her Oreos and don’t tell her stuff, even though she already knows it, and it was like
seein
’ Jesus. And I knew I had to get me some a that.”

Just as she had done for each of the Sisters, India wrapped a towel around his shoulders and kissed one cheek, and then the other. That holy kiss that no one could give like India.

On the other side of them Kade stood behind Chief. The fading light erased the edges of the handsome man-features, softening his face into a little boy’s. A little boy not sure he should join in. The little boy I didn’t raise.

By my own choice. A choice that had made deceivers out of both of us.

Kade must have felt me watching because his eyes shifted from Desmond to me.

I’m sorry,
they said.

Me, too,
mine said.
Me, too.

“Time to party!”

Mercedes gave Desmond’s soggy Afro a smack. “We gon’ have communion, boy.”

“That’s what I jus’ said. Time to party.”

The group moved to the porch, where India was already lighting the candles of the Easter Even vigil to follow. Sherry knelt beside my chair.

“I’ll help you up there,” she said. “You need to stop banging yourself up, girl.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward me. “You heard how it happened,” I said.

“Some loser with a rap sheet tried to mow you and Desmond down.”

“It was Sultan, Sherry.”

Panic shot through her eyes. “Sultan’s dead.”

“We don’t know that anymore.”


I
know it.”

“How?” I said. “How is it that you know?”

“I told you before—just leave it alone.”

“I can’t anymore.”

I tilted my chin toward the porch, where Desmond was hanging one lanky arm around Liz Doyle’s neck and telling Stan the Man, “You can have bread, dude. Ain’t nobody here cut outta the body a Christ.”

Sherry’s face paled, until I could almost see through her to the scene she was once more burying.

“Do what you have to do, Miss Angel,” she said.

She got to her feet and went to join the others at the table. The fear had returned to her steps.

“Desmond says he’s going to stay up all night for the vigil.”

Chief eased his wheelchair over the tufts of grass and stopped beside me. I couldn’t look at him.

“He’ll be asleep the first hour, guaranteed,” I said.

“Classic.”

“Yeah.”

I imagined him tilting his head, creasing the tiny lines, looking through me the way only this man I loved could do. But I couldn’t make myself turn around and see it, and not be able to touch it.

“We’re a pair to draw to,” he said.

When I opened my eyes, he was so close his breath warmed my face. “If it comes to it, we can fight this out with our crutches.”


What,
Chief?” I said. “What are we even doing?”

“You know what you’re doing. You always do. I only know what I
want
to do.”

“Then why don’t you just do it?”

“Because I can’t put you in that position with God.”

Chief put two fingers on my chin and nudged my face toward the street. “Do you see that, down on the corner?”

All I saw at first was the skeleton of the school, now cast in black by the last of the sunset. As I looked, Garry Howard’s form took shape. He was still standing at the curb.

“The good reverend is looking at the position he’s in,” Chief said. “I can’t put you there.”

“Garry Howard didn’t go to God with his decision to accept money from Troy Irwin. That’s the position he’s in.” I turned back to Chief’s breath. “I’m not there, and you can’t take me there. I can’t stop heeding the Nudges and listening to the whispers and paying attention to the pain. God won’t let me.”

“So is God going to let you be with a man who didn’t get in the pond?”

“Would that be the God you told Desmond he should believe in?”

“The God I want to believe in.”

I couldn’t breathe. But I could say, “All we can do is ask him.”

“How do we do that?”

I moved closer, close enough to make it safe to close my eyes. I felt Chief’s hands in my hair and his breath on my mouth. And his kiss in my soul.

“Nudge?” Chief said into my lips.

“No,” I said. “Just joy.”

From the porch, Hank called out, “The Lord be with you.”

I put my hands on Chief’s, which were still holding my face. “And also with you,” I said.

You would think as a prophet, I’d know what God was doing with me.

For that moment at least, I did.

… a little more …

When a delightful concert comes to an end,

the orchestra might offer an encore.

When a fine meal comes to an end,

it's always nice to savor a bit of dessert.

When a great story comes to an end,

we think you may want to linger.

And so, we offer ...

AfterWords—
just a little something more after you

have finished a David C Cook novel.

We invite you to stay awhile in the story.

Thanks for reading!

Turn the page for ...

• Discussion Questions

• More about the Nudge

Discussion Questions

The following are a few thoughts to spur discussion with fellow readers or simply to ponder on your own. Should your conversation lead to questions for
me,
I would love to hear from you at
[email protected]
.

  • Before I start to write a novel, I always form the question I hope to answer in the course of the story. The question for
    Unexpected Dismounts
    was, to put it in Allison’s terms:
    Now that I’ve found Jesus and know what to do with him, how do I know what Jesus is doing with
    me?
    After reading the book, what do you think is the answer to that
    question
    —not only for Allison, but for you?
  • I also have a key word—a mustard seed, if you will—from which the story grows. The word this time was
    feeling,
    which seems sort of vague until you think about it in terms of Allison’s having to feel something of what God feels in order to deepen her perceptions of what truly needs to be done. Do you think she got there? Do you ever get the sense that you and God are sharing an emotion?
  • And then of course there’s the scriptural basis, which was pretty much a no-brainer for this book:

Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13:14–15)

  • How do you see that applying to
    • Allison
    • Chief
    • The Sacrament Sisters
    • India
    • Officer Kent
    • Anyone else in the story
    • Got any footwashing you need to do?
  • The whole bathing of one another’s feet in obedience to Jesus’ instruction can be quite lovely on a Maundy Thursday evening. But when you go beyond the ritual and into the real dirt and grime of self-sacrifice, it’s a whole other thing. When does the nitty-gritty of it get to Allison? Force her to make tough decisions? Did you ever doubt that she’d go through with it? How about you? Are you backing off from the dirty water and the bunions at all? I gotta tell you, Allison convicted
    me
    on a few things …
  • This is a trilogy, which means there are still threads left to be tied up in book three,
    Too Far to Say Far Enough.
    Any thoughts on how Allison and Kade’s relationship will develop? How Allison and Chief will work out the faith issues that stand between them? What Desmond will be like as he turns into a teenager? What will go down with Troy now that the whole town knows he’s been a person of interest in a rape case? How the whole Sultan thing will be resolved? Will Allison return to the church? What’s next for the Sacrament Sisters? I’d be fascinated to know your thoughts, so don’t be shy about using that email address.
  • Beyond just plot development, what thoughts linger now that you’ve finished reading
    Unexpected Dismounts?
    Have you felt the Nudge recently? Have you counted the cost of heeding it? Do you share the quite valid fears of characters like Ms. Willa, India, and Reverend Garry Howard? Zelda? Ophelia? Are there baby steps you could take to conquer those?
  • And about those unexpected dismounts … which ones in your life have affected you the most? Is it time to get back on and ride?

The Nudge

The whole concept of being Nudged by God to do something you obviously didn’t think up yourself has grown into more than a premise for a series of novels. Together with other Nudgees, I’ve formed a blog community called “The Nudge” (what else?), where we share the pokes and wild dreams and impossible projects we strongly suspect are coming from God. Please join us at
www.tweenyouandme.typepad.com/the_nudge
. You can also find me on Facebook (
www.facebook.com/nnrue
) and Twitter (@nnrue).

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