| Chapter One Excerpt |
| February 1996 |
Erin Mathis pulled open one of the new glass double doors leading into the hollowed-out
warehouse that would soon become Kimberley Square’s gymnasium and held it open so Sonya
Connelly could enter first.
Judging by her smile, Sonya seemed to appreciate the gesture, until she took two steps inside
the warehouse, stopped in her tracks, raised her chin, and shrieked, “Christina McIntyre! What on
earth do you think you’re doing?”
The sudden intensity and sheer volume of Sonya’s normally pleasant Southern drawl startled
Erin so much her sharp intake of breath sounded to her own ears like a puppy’s yelp. She hurried
inside. Isaiah Sadler stood on the other side of the room. He held a rope in his hands. Erin’s gaze
followed that rope up into the rafters of the old warehouse.
Her mouth fell open. High above Isaiah, at the other end of the rope, Christina McIntyre, one
of Erin’s dearest friends, dangled upside down by her knees from a rafter, clutching what looked
like a plastic Safeway bag in her teeth.
Well. No wonder Sonya stopped in her tracks. A smile worked it’s way across Erin’s lips.
“Why are you—?” Sonya’s drawl echoed across the warehouse. “Christina! You come down
from there!”
Erin’s smile faded as a thread of fear laced itself around her heart.
“Right now, young lady! Before you fall!”
Isaiah’s voice carried to them softly. “She’s fine, now, Sonya. She’s almost done.” Standing
there, holding the rope that Chris had obviously used to climb up into the rafters, Isaiah’s eyes
reflected a hint of sheepishness.
“What is she doing?” Sonya peered heavenward as she and Erin walked closer. “Christina?
Are you all right?”
Chris pulled the bag from her teeth. Her voice rained down from above. “Hey, Sonya! Hey,
Rinny! What’s up?”
Erin couldn’t help it. She started to laugh—until Sonya turned and gave her a don’t-encourage-
her scowl. Her laughter died on a fake cough.
“Yep, Isaiah, I think that’ll do it,” Chris said. “This bulb is definitely defective. We should
take it back.”
“Um, okay, Chris.” Isaiah didn’t look up as he said the words. “I’ll take care of that
Monday.” He looked at Sonya. His face bore a strained smile.
“A light bulb?” Sonya stopped a few feet from him and put her hands on her hips. “She
climbed up there just to change a light bulb?”
“Little slack,” came from above.
Isaiah fed a few feet of rope through his fingers.
Erin glanced up—just as Chris slid down the rope, still upside down, Safeway bag in her
teeth, feet flying. She dropped to almost perfect eye level; the rope creaked as she bounced once,
then twice. She pulled the bag from her teeth, handed it to Isaiah, then beamed an upside-down red-
faced smile at Sonya and said, “Hi there.”
For a second, nobody moved. Nobody said a word. But then Chris, hanging like a yo-yo,
slowly started to turn as the rope she hung from, the rope she had twisted together around the rafter,
started to unwind.
Erin stole a glance at Sonya. Saw a mouth that gaped, cheeks that had flushed into a deep,
dark pink.
Chris lowered her feet and lightly touched back down on earth. As the silence lingered, she
tugged off her thick leather gloves and rubbed her nose.
Sonya quickly shook her head. Then looked at Isaiah. “Where’s Amanda?”
“She’s, um . . .” He coughed quietly. “She’s in the office pumpin’ up volleyballs.”
Sonya’s voice pierced Erin’s eardrums. “AMANDA!”
The little girl’s head popped through the office door. “Hi, Grammy!”
“Get your jacket. It’s time for lunch.”
“Aww, do I have to, Grammy? I’m not finished yet.”
“Yes, child. You can come back later.” Sonya lowered her voice. “Unless the two of you
have more light bulbs to change.”
“Um, no, Sonya. We’re done.” Chris tossed the rope away, though it came back and slapped
against her backside.
The expression on Chris’s face eased the fear in Erin heart. Chris looked like she had just
gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Good. Because she had.
“Hi, Auntie Erin!” Amanda’s sweet voice shook as she skipped toward the group. “Guess
what! I was blowin’ up volleyballs!”
“Very cool!” Erin swept the little girl up into a half hug. “I bet your lips are tired!” She let the
girl’s burst of giggles carry her own.
Amanda asked, “Are we havin’ pizza for lunch, Grammy?” as she pushed her arms into the
sleeves of her jacket. “Pep’roni, huh? Or maybe chicken! Yay!” Her sparkly blue eyes peeked out
through flyaway blonde curls. “Let’s go, Grammy. I’m hungry! Bye, Uncle ’Saiah! Bye, Auntie
Chris!” She turned and skipped toward the door.
Happy good-byes and waves came from both Chris and Isaiah, until they glanced at Sonya.
Silence descended. Smiles became sheepish grins.
With a quick shake of her head, Sonya turned and started for the door.
Erin stood there another second, then smirked at both Chris and Isaiah before turning to
follow Sonya and Amanda outside.
Through the gym’s glass doors, outside under the trees, a cold, misty dampness had settled in
with the afternoon. The heavy air fell over Erin softly, as it always did. She breathed deeply and
enjoyed all the familiar fragrances of her forested inner-city home.
Sonya seemed to be waiting for her, standing there, watching her granddaughter skip and hop,
skip and hop across the cracks in the sidewalk.
“You okay?” Erin said, her voice soft as a whisper.
The long silence concerned her. Sonya’s face appeared hard and set, until she looked at Erin
and said, her voice hushed to protect her little one’s tender ears, “She has this thing about . . . being
upside down on a rope, doesn’t she.”
Erin tried to restrain a smile.
“This is what Benjamin told me about.”
“He told you about the time she rappelled out of the helicopter?”
“Yes. But I hardly believed it. Until now.”
warehouse that would soon become Kimberley Square’s gymnasium and held it open so Sonya
Connelly could enter first.
Judging by her smile, Sonya seemed to appreciate the gesture, until she took two steps inside
the warehouse, stopped in her tracks, raised her chin, and shrieked, “Christina McIntyre! What on
earth do you think you’re doing?”
The sudden intensity and sheer volume of Sonya’s normally pleasant Southern drawl startled
Erin so much her sharp intake of breath sounded to her own ears like a puppy’s yelp. She hurried
inside. Isaiah Sadler stood on the other side of the room. He held a rope in his hands. Erin’s gaze
followed that rope up into the rafters of the old warehouse.
Her mouth fell open. High above Isaiah, at the other end of the rope, Christina McIntyre, one
of Erin’s dearest friends, dangled upside down by her knees from a rafter, clutching what looked
like a plastic Safeway bag in her teeth.
Well. No wonder Sonya stopped in her tracks. A smile worked it’s way across Erin’s lips.
“Why are you—?” Sonya’s drawl echoed across the warehouse. “Christina! You come down
from there!”
Erin’s smile faded as a thread of fear laced itself around her heart.
“Right now, young lady! Before you fall!”
Isaiah’s voice carried to them softly. “She’s fine, now, Sonya. She’s almost done.” Standing
there, holding the rope that Chris had obviously used to climb up into the rafters, Isaiah’s eyes
reflected a hint of sheepishness.
“What is she doing?” Sonya peered heavenward as she and Erin walked closer. “Christina?
Are you all right?”
Chris pulled the bag from her teeth. Her voice rained down from above. “Hey, Sonya! Hey,
Rinny! What’s up?”
Erin couldn’t help it. She started to laugh—until Sonya turned and gave her a don’t-encourage-
her scowl. Her laughter died on a fake cough.
“Yep, Isaiah, I think that’ll do it,” Chris said. “This bulb is definitely defective. We should
take it back.”
“Um, okay, Chris.” Isaiah didn’t look up as he said the words. “I’ll take care of that
Monday.” He looked at Sonya. His face bore a strained smile.
“A light bulb?” Sonya stopped a few feet from him and put her hands on her hips. “She
climbed up there just to change a light bulb?”
“Little slack,” came from above.
Isaiah fed a few feet of rope through his fingers.
Erin glanced up—just as Chris slid down the rope, still upside down, Safeway bag in her
teeth, feet flying. She dropped to almost perfect eye level; the rope creaked as she bounced once,
then twice. She pulled the bag from her teeth, handed it to Isaiah, then beamed an upside-down red-
faced smile at Sonya and said, “Hi there.”
For a second, nobody moved. Nobody said a word. But then Chris, hanging like a yo-yo,
slowly started to turn as the rope she hung from, the rope she had twisted together around the rafter,
started to unwind.
Erin stole a glance at Sonya. Saw a mouth that gaped, cheeks that had flushed into a deep,
dark pink.
Chris lowered her feet and lightly touched back down on earth. As the silence lingered, she
tugged off her thick leather gloves and rubbed her nose.
Sonya quickly shook her head. Then looked at Isaiah. “Where’s Amanda?”
“She’s, um . . .” He coughed quietly. “She’s in the office pumpin’ up volleyballs.”
Sonya’s voice pierced Erin’s eardrums. “AMANDA!”
The little girl’s head popped through the office door. “Hi, Grammy!”
“Get your jacket. It’s time for lunch.”
“Aww, do I have to, Grammy? I’m not finished yet.”
“Yes, child. You can come back later.” Sonya lowered her voice. “Unless the two of you
have more light bulbs to change.”
“Um, no, Sonya. We’re done.” Chris tossed the rope away, though it came back and slapped
against her backside.
The expression on Chris’s face eased the fear in Erin heart. Chris looked like she had just
gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Good. Because she had.
“Hi, Auntie Erin!” Amanda’s sweet voice shook as she skipped toward the group. “Guess
what! I was blowin’ up volleyballs!”
“Very cool!” Erin swept the little girl up into a half hug. “I bet your lips are tired!” She let the
girl’s burst of giggles carry her own.
Amanda asked, “Are we havin’ pizza for lunch, Grammy?” as she pushed her arms into the
sleeves of her jacket. “Pep’roni, huh? Or maybe chicken! Yay!” Her sparkly blue eyes peeked out
through flyaway blonde curls. “Let’s go, Grammy. I’m hungry! Bye, Uncle ’Saiah! Bye, Auntie
Chris!” She turned and skipped toward the door.
Happy good-byes and waves came from both Chris and Isaiah, until they glanced at Sonya.
Silence descended. Smiles became sheepish grins.
With a quick shake of her head, Sonya turned and started for the door.
Erin stood there another second, then smirked at both Chris and Isaiah before turning to
follow Sonya and Amanda outside.
Through the gym’s glass doors, outside under the trees, a cold, misty dampness had settled in
with the afternoon. The heavy air fell over Erin softly, as it always did. She breathed deeply and
enjoyed all the familiar fragrances of her forested inner-city home.
Sonya seemed to be waiting for her, standing there, watching her granddaughter skip and hop,
skip and hop across the cracks in the sidewalk.
“You okay?” Erin said, her voice soft as a whisper.
The long silence concerned her. Sonya’s face appeared hard and set, until she looked at Erin
and said, her voice hushed to protect her little one’s tender ears, “She has this thing about . . . being
upside down on a rope, doesn’t she.”
Erin tried to restrain a smile.
“This is what Benjamin told me about.”
“He told you about the time she rappelled out of the helicopter?”
“Yes. But I hardly believed it. Until now.”
| © 2005 Donna A. Fleisher |
Warrior's Heart
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| Psalms 107:28-30 Then they cry out to the LORD in their trouble, and He brings them out of their distresses. He calms the storm, so that its waves are still. Then they are glad because they are quiet; so He guides them to their desired haven. |