A Brush of Wings (17 page)

Thank You, Father.
Marcus had never felt so small.
You see me and You care. I always believed that. But this . . . this is something I’ll never forget.

And like that, a whisper resonated in Marcus’s soul.
My son, I love you. I have plans for you, plans to give you a hope and a future.

He had read those words in the Bible, in Jeremiah 29:11. But here, now, he knew the whisper came from God Almighty. Slowly Marcus fell to his knees. He brought his hands to his face, overcome by the absolute goodness of God. He had needed this, the reminder that God was in control.

Even where Mary Catherine was concerned.

After a few minutes the dolphins swam away. Marcus stood, collected his things, and headed across the beach toward his car.

He could not control Mary Catherine. If she didn’t want to respond to his email from four months ago, so be it. If he couldn’t see her, he could at least pray for her. For her health and safety and for her to stay close to God.

While he was at it, he’d pray that Mary Catherine would make it back in time for the wedding. And if she did, that she would see things differently between the two of them. Yes, that’s what he would pray for. And he would believe in dramatic, miraculous results. After all, God was the great miracle worker.

The dolphins were proof of that.

BECK WAS STILL SAVORING
the way God had answered Marcus, still amazed that the Father loved mankind enough to sometimes give a sign. The way He had today. But even as the dolphins swam away, Beck felt the presence of evil. Just ahead of where Marcus was walking back to his car.

Instantly Jag was at his side. “Let’s go.”

The two moved at lightning speed to their places on either side of Marcus. The darkness ahead was marked by hissing and a blur of evil activity. Something was about to take place. “Help us, Father . . . we need You,” Jag cried out. “Jesus be with us.”

At the name of Jesus, the demons shrieked. The cloud of darkness dispersed, but it didn’t disappear. The enemy was definitely up to something. Beck and Jag remained next to Marcus, scanning the distance, ready to defend and protect him, whatever the battle ahead.

“There!” Jag pointed. “Headed for Marcus!”

A quarter mile down the road a teenager was driving toward them, his attention entirely on his phone.

“Texting.” Jag kept his eyes on the young driver.

“He has no idea.” Beck could see it all now. The teen’s car weaved in and out of his lane, but despite the honking from other motorists he stayed focused on his phone. He was closer now, half a block away.

Marcus reached the crosswalk at Ocean Avenue. Beck felt the presence of evil again. “Jesus . . . help us. We need You.” He called the words out loud for all of the spiritual realm to hear. More shrieking. In the distance, the darkness swirled and swelled, the enemy’s soldiers hissing, ready for the kill.

The battle was under way.

“We have to stop him.” Jag’s voice was intense. Demons clung to the top of the teen’s car, and inside one of them had his claws on the wheel.

Beck understood. Wherever Marcus was—on the sidewalk or in the intersection—the car was headed his way. “I’ve got this.” There was no time to wait.

“Be careful.” Jag knew what Beck was about to do. It was necessary.

Marcus stepped into the intersection and began to cross the street.

In the blink of an eye, Beck entered the car. The demons left instantly, unable to stay in the presence of light.

The car was headed straight for Marcus, right through the red light.

“Stop!” Beck shouted to the teen. “Pay attention!”

Startled, the teen looked up. All at once he threw his phone to the floor of his car and slammed on his brakes. He stopped inches from Marcus. The baseball player looked shocked, suddenly aware of the danger he’d been in.

By then Beck was no longer in the car.

As Beck returned to Jag’s side, they both watched the teen drive slowly away. “Praise to Jesus!” Beck and Jag joined voices, thanking God, worshipping the Savior. Because in the name of Jesus, in this battle, victory was theirs. The mission would live another day.

And so would Marcus Dillinger.

EMBER WAS DESPERATE
for an answer. Mary Catherine was sicker every day, and though the two of them worked right alongside each other, Ember hadn’t yet found a way to send her home.

Mary Catherine was out of breath more frequently and there weren’t enough safety pins in the supply closet to keep the girl’s skirt from falling off. No question she was losing more weight, getting sicker.

It was early on the second Monday of July. Ember and Mary Catherine were scheduled for a meeting before the children joined them, a chance to look over the curriculum for the week. Ember was already in the classroom when Mary Catherine walked in.

She looked weak, her skin grayish white. So slight and ethereal she might’ve been an angel herself. “Good morning.” She managed a smile. “Sorry I’m late.” She sat down in the nearest chair. “I couldn’t wake up.”

“It’s okay.” They didn’t have long before the children joined them. She would share her concerns with Mary Catherine after class.

Today Ember watched while Mary Catherine led. The subject was storytelling. Ember enjoyed watching her teach—especially today. Mary Catherine was the rarest type of human. She loved God and people, but on top of that she loved life. Every breath, every moment. Even heart failure couldn’t dim that.

She used her arms to explain the size of the dolphins she swam with once. “When you tell a story, you want to describe what you see and hear and smell and feel.” Mary Catherine was growing winded. But she was too caught up in the lesson to take a break.

The teaching moment was no longer fun. Mary Catherine was in danger every time she got like this. Ember closed her eyes for a few seconds.
Father, get her out of here. Please . . . she won’t listen to me.

When she’d told them every last detail, Mary Catherine leaned against one of the desks. “I like to say a storyteller gets to live life twice. What do you think that means?”

One little boy raised his hand. “You live it first in the water with the dolphins. Then you live it when you tell the story to someone.”

Mary Catherine’s entire face lit up. “Exactly!”

Ember watched, taking it all in, feeling an ache in her own heart. Mary Catherine had so much to offer. But not if she didn’t get back to Los Angeles soon.

When the kids took their recess break, Ember asked whether the two of them could sit and talk. Every movement seemed to be an effort for Mary Catherine. Ember prayed silently as they took adjacent desks. “I’m worried about you, maybe you need to go home for a while. Get things checked out.”

Mary Catherine slowly caught her breath. She seemed distant, lost in thought. “It wouldn’t help.” She took a slow breath and smiled at Ember. “Besides . . . I already made a commitment to stay another two months. Through November. When the other teacher gets here.”

“Oh.” Ember tried to hide her alarm. “Well, you could always go home and see a doctor. Then come back. After you’re well.”

“My health . . .” The topic seemed to shut Mary Catherine down. “It’s complicated.” She rested her forearms on the desk. “I’m fine. Really.”

Panic stirred the desperation in Ember’s heart. “At least think about it.” Ember reached out and took Mary Catherine’s hand. “Whatever it is, you’re getting worse. You know that, right?”

Mary Catherine gave Ember’s hand a gentle squeeze. Then she stood and faced the open doorway. “I’m going to join the kids.” She smiled back at Ember. “There’s no greater joy than watching children at recess.” She hesitated, her eyes on the boys and girls at play. “No one has to tell children to be excited about life. They were born that way.”

“True.” Ember walked outside with Mary Catherine.

Ember could do nothing but watch. Mary Catherine pushed a few of the smaller children on the swings. Their giggles filled the summer air. Mary Catherine was clearly determined to live every day to the fullest. But one simple truth weighed on Ember every moment.

If Mary Catherine didn’t get home soon, she wouldn’t only get sicker.

She would die.

13

J
AG CALLED THE URGENT MEETING.
They met in Uganda, on the bank of the Nile River. Together they sat in plain sight of a pride of lions and in earshot of a herd of elephants. They waited only for Aspyn, who was finishing an assignment in Arizona at the baseball training facility.

“Serene.” Jag looked around. The African plains were so different from Los Angeles. “Every animal, every tree. So little distraction. The Father’s fingerprints are everywhere.”

“As they are in Los Angeles.” Beck raised his brow. “Humans just need to look harder.”

“Yes.” Ember smiled. “Mary Catherine’s beach is one of the Lord’s greatest creations.”

There was a tension among them, an awareness. The mission was in grave danger.

Aspyn arrived, breathless. “Sorry. Protecting Tyler from an enemy attack.” She smiled. “He is fine now.”

Never had Jag worked on a mission like this, where they were in charge of not one but four humans. Four lives that needed constant guarding and protecting—not only from physical danger but from emotional setbacks.

Jag spoke first. “Ember, if you could update us on Mary Catherine’s condition.”

She nodded. “Every day she seems a bit thinner, her skin more pale.” Ember furrowed her brow, clearly troubled. “She struggles to breathe from even the slightest exertion.”

Beck clasped his hands and stared at the dark red soil. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“There’s no way to tell exactly how damaged her heart is, or how much time we have.” Jag sat on the highest part of an outcropping of rocks. He narrowed his eyes. “We need a plan. If we don’t get Mary Catherine back to Los Angeles, the mission will . . .” He didn’t want to finish the sentence.

Aspyn whispered the words instead. “Will be lost.”

For a while they were quiet, the breeze off the river gentle on their skin. In the distance an elephant trumpeted and the sound shook the ground. Jag broke the silence.
Help us, Father . . . we don’t know what to do.
He drew a long breath. “Let’s pray. For God to give us an idea of what we can do next.”

They sat that way, each of them lost in prayer, waiting, listening for the Father’s wisdom. For His leading. Finally, after a long time, Beck gasped. He stood, pacing along the top of the rock surface where he’d been sitting. “I have an idea!”

Jag loved Beck’s enthusiasm. He had less experience in Angels Walking mission work, but he was fervent and determined. He worked with a passion few angels would ever know. Jag nodded. “Tell us.”

“I visited the office of Dr. Cohen a few days ago.” He stopped and made eye contact with the others. “I was looking for ideas, anything that might help us. And there on the table in the waiting room was a brochure. It was about a device called a left ventricular assist device. Doctors know it as an LVAD.” He paused. “Basically it’s a mechanical heart. It does the work while a patient like Mary Catherine waits for a transplant.”