Omniscient Leaps
Authors: Kimberly Slivinski
Book One in the Omniscient Leaps Series
Text copyright © 2012 Kimberly F Slivinski
All Rights Reserved
A lot of time and love has gone into writing, revising and editing this series over the past four years. I wouldn’t have succeeded without the patience and love of my husband, Brian, and children, Maeryn and Kason. I’m forever grateful for the feedback, support and encouragement from Christie Mossaad, Judy Hand, Ben Stiles, Peter Mossaad, Adrianne Sever, LeeAnn Sever, Gina Batza, Lisa Cross, Amy Newton, Robin Ferratella, Ashleigh Wilkes and Susan Wilkes. Thank you to Jessica Richardson for designing my cover. I am forever thankful for my parents’ never-ending encouragement to follow my dreams and tap into my vivid imagination.
I’m indebted to my women’s bible study group at Apostles Lutheran and their guidance, influence and inspiring example of how to live as models of God’s light. Most especially, I’m eternally grateful to Jesus and God for unending grace and my boundless imagination.
I’ve included the first few chapters of book two, COLLEGIATE LEAPS, and I hope you’ll be drawn in and inspired to read this next installment.
COLLEGIATE LEAPS
(book 2)
I had never really thought about God, at least not in the life-altering euphoric sense people often make declarations about. It’s not that the activities in my life were overly demanding, but devoting my time to something so intangible seemed pointless. To me, religion was just another club I wasn’t meant to be a part of.
Tonight was the first time in my life I had even considered praying with a sincere heart. I was desperate. After years of immersing myself in uncomfortable situations just to fit in, tonight became the breaking point. My virginity, something I always held in high regard, had almost been taken from me.
Like countless other nights, I attended a party hosted by one of my childhood friends. Staying in their circle had been an easy way to avoid the customary anguish that defined adolescence. Realizing, now with glaring hindsight, that with the exception of Reyna I didn’t share a deep emotional connection with any of the people I chose to spend time with. It was a regrettable self-appointed fault resulting from my introverted disposition.
My habitual party-going routine was consistent: grab a drink, spend the entire night nursing it and find a room with a television where I could escape into a world where I was challenged and enlightened. History, Discovery, and PBS were my top three entertainment choices—probably taboo to the individuals I was keeping company with, but I’d never been one for smutty entertainment.
Tonight, after inadvertently uncovering my ruse, Gage put me at ease with his humor and kinship. I thought I’d finally found someone else in our group I could relate to. After all, his new found demeanor appeared genuine—an assumption which foolishly led me to believe I’d misjudged him. I never expected him to presume our intimacy would extend beyond an innocent kiss or two. Big mistake.
Gage had been such a decent guy when he was younger. His family had fallen apart years ago and the discord had obviously affected him deeply. I wasn’t much for the gossip or rumors about his conquests, but in this instance I should’ve listened. After my pleas were ignored, it became clear the good guy I’d known in elementary school no longer existed.
I tossed restlessly in my bed as the events of that evening played over in my head. After exhausting every effort to stop Gage from assaulting me, I had turned to God. I prayed if he would just save me this one time I would make an effort to know him. I would serve him in whatever capacity was necessary. Of course hopelessness had been seeping out of every pore in my body and I’d been grasping for any means necessary to escape.
The stereo had exploded just as a great flash of light filled the space, consumed every ounce of darkness and left me momentarily blinded. Gage’s unexpected loss of consciousness from our divine intervention had given me the perfect opportunity to escape.
Had God really intervened or did I just experience some dumb luck? Either way, I’d be keeping my distance from my in-crowd acquaintances.
Sigh
. With only a few months left of high school, I could manage without any friends.
When the first light poured into my room at dawn, I decided to get up and shower away the nightmares. I’d been fully conscious for hours and there was no point in lying around in bed sulking. Thankfully it was Saturday and I didn’t have to face anyone. After running out of the party with my full emotions exposed, forced to endure an overwhelming amount of snickering, I was relieved to have a few days to recover.
Returning to my room, I lackadaisically reached for the door to my closet. Before I could dress, the blinding light from the previous night came rushing back. Gulping back an overwhelming sensation of fear, I crumpled to my knees. If God was calling in my promise already he sure didn’t waste any time.
Still trembling, I opened my eyes and unexpectedly found myself squatting in a road blanketed by nightfall. Although it would have been a first, I was convinced I’d blacked out. Of course my logic didn’t explain how I had managed to get outside.
My eyes widened as a set of headlights closed in on me. I darted out of the way as a horn blared. “Go home drunk!” The driver shouted.
I glanced down at my pathetic attire.
Perfect.
I was wandering around an unfamiliar neighborhood in Rural Pennsylvania wearing my bathrobe; I wouldn’t stand out at all.
A nearby house’s lights flickered on and I ran behind the nearest bush to hide. I didn’t know where I was and didn’t want to converse with anyone until I figured it out. Sweat was beading on my forehead and for a late night in early February it was scorching. Even the seasonal snow covered hills of our small town of Kenton were decked in full foliage. I had to be dreaming.
Screaming suddenly escalated inside the nearby house. Curious to unearth the significance of my dream or delusion, I crept closer. While I tried to repress the guilt I felt for eavesdropping on some couples’ argument, I was quickly distracted mid-creep. The door to the house had slammed shut and a small boy was racing across the overgrown lawn in my direction. He crouched beside a nearby bush, collapsing into an all-out sob fest. Seeing the emotional damage his parents’ turbulent relationship was inflicting on his young soul made my heart ache.
I crept closer, quickly discovering the identity of the young boy. He resembled Gage, a younger, seven-year-old Gage. Before I could ponder the weird unfolding of my daydream, something crunched under foot. I reached down and I picked up an old crumpled newspaper. July 1, 1999 was the date staring back at me in boldface font.
What the?
Before I could analyze my situation any further, I realized the boy had spotted me. “What are you doing in my yard?” He wiped his face with the back of his shirt and stared at me. He wasn’t frightened or angry, just curious.
“Honestly, you wouldn’t believe me if I could explain it,” I said, pushing up the sleeves on my bulky bathrobe.
The sweltering heat nauseated me and I fought the urge to strip down to my undergarments. Did it really matter if I scarred a young boy if it was a dream?
Yes.
His eyes were fixated, waiting for me to continue. “Why did you bolt out of your house like that?”
He shifted uneasily. His face was splotchy and he quickly wiped another tear from his cheek. “My parents are fighting and I hate listening to it. Whenever they make up I pray it’ll be the last one. I pray all the time, but no one ever answers my prayers. Why do you think that is?”
He was asking me, a stranger, a philosophical question. “I’d like to ask God for some answers myself, kid. What’s your name?”
“Gage. Gage Parton,” he replied in between sniffs. I tried not to shudder. He was just a little kid after all; he had no idea the monster he’d become. “What’s yours?”
“Kara,” I began, “and I’m not sure what to tell you about God. I’ve heard He has a way of answering prayers in His own time, whatever that means. Maybe you should talk to someone. Maybe a grown-up at school. You don’t want to head down the wrong path.”
Confused by my response, his forehead crinkled—I was definitely no therapist. “My dad would kill me,” Gage shuddered. “He doesn’t want other people in our business.”
Suddenly the front door swung open and a large burly man stepped out of the house. “Gage Parton, get your butt in here now!”
Gage launched into the air, headed full speed towards his dad before I could say another word. I couldn’t believe I found myself feeling sorry for the same person whose grown persona had tried to violate me just a few hours prior. Was I supposed to have compassion, offer forgiveness, or maybe just pity? I didn’t know if a dream could affect me enough to wash away the wrongs. I’d already decided the grown-up version of Gage was a scumbag, pure and simple.
Another unexpected flash of light enveloped me and this time I embraced it. After my surroundings shifted into focus, I found myself kneeling on the floor of my muddled mess of a closet. I glanced back at the clock and discovered not even a minute had passed. Coincidentally, I’d checked the time right before I’d dragged myself out of bed. Had I experienced an epiphany, a dream or was I suffering from sudden flash migraines?
Weird.
“Good morning, Kara. I thought I heard you moving around in here. You want to have some breakfast with me before I head to work?”
“Sure Mom,” I replied, clambering to my feet.
Unable to mull over the bizarre incident, I decided to chalk it up to stress. My turbulent night had clearly caused me to blackout and I needed nothing more than some nutritional sustenance. I tripped over a pile of clothes as I headed out the door. Chuckling loudly as I pulled myself up, I promised I’d get organized…sometime.
Unable to fight the unexpected sensation that I’d swallowed sandpaper, I gulped down several glasses of water and tried to focus on Mom’s tales from her elementary school job. With the eggs sizzling in the frying pan and the bread cooking in the toaster, I listened to her explain the downside to having a bathroom in her classroom. After hearing her most recent, vivid recap, I had a strong desire to both laugh and wash my hands repeatedly.
My mother’s pale face was sporting heavy bags. Noticing my hardened stare, she piled her red hair on top of her head, took a few cleansing breaths and tried to act impervious. I surveyed her features and swore she’d aged several years in the last month. The stress of her two jobs was visibly wearing on her. Our features were remarkably similar, often leading people to mistake us for sisters, but today she definitely appeared much older.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a job? If I took up a few nights waitressing then you could quit,” I paused to take noticed of her disapproving expression. “You work too much, Mom. It’s not good for you. When do you get to have some time for yourself?”
“You are not getting a job. We’ve been over this,” she murmured. Ignoring my facial pleas, she set the table and dished the food—eggs and toast, my favorite! “Besides, I get plenty of time to enjoy your company. We have breakfast together all the time.”
I moaned. “That’s about it. My grades are great and I’m not involved in any extracurricular activities. It really wouldn’t be a big deal.”
I missed spending time with her. We were more like best friends than a mother daughter team. I was going to be persistent. She needed to at least consider all the possibilities since her disapproval was the only thing keeping me from having a job.
“Kara, dear,” she grabbed my hand. “You know getting into college is the most important thing you should be focusing on. I don’t want a job to get in the way.” She paused as her lips curled into a suspicious smile. “If you have so much free time why don’t you sign up for some extracurricular activities? From what I hear they are a great addition to a college application.”
“Number one, my applications have gone out already,” I grumbled. I bit my toast forcefully so she could see my frustration. “And number two, you know extracurricular activities have never been my thing. Why start now?”
“Why not? You’ve never even tried one. I know you are shy, but you might actually enjoy meeting some new people.”