Authors: Karen Kingsbury
Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Holidays, #Romance, #Religion, #General
The Bridge (2 page)
CONTENTS
To Donald, my Prince Charming . . .
Another year behind us, and already Tyler is almost finished with his first year at Liberty University while Kelsey is taking wing—acting in films that glorify God. Isn’t our Lord so faithful? Not just with our kids, but in leading our family where He wants us to be. Closing in on a year in Nashville, and it’s so very clear that God wanted us here. Thank you for being so steady and strong and good and kind. Hold my hand and walk with me through the coming seasons . . . the graduations and growing up and getting older. All of it’s possible with you by my side. I love you always and forever.
To Kyle, my newest son . . .
Kyle, you and Kelsey are married now, and forevermore we will see you as our son, as the young man God planned for our daughter, the one we’ve prayed for and talked to God about and hoped for. Your heart
is beautiful in every way, Kyle. How you cherish simple moments and the way you are kind beyond words. You see the good in people and situations, and you find a way to give God the glory always. I will never forget you coming to me and Donald at different times and telling us that you wanted to support Kelsey and keep her safe . . . and ultimately that you wanted to love her all the days of your life. All of it is summed up in the way you do one simple action: The way you look at our precious Kelsey. It’s a picture that will hang forever on the wall of my heart. You look at Kelsey like nothing and no one else in all the world exists but her. In your eyes at that moment is the picture of what love looks like. Kyle, as God takes you from one stage to another—using that beautiful voice of yours to glorify Him and lead others to love Jesus—I pray that you always look at Kelsey the way you do today. We thank God for you, and we look forward to the beautiful seasons ahead. Love you always!
To Kelsey, my precious daughter . . .
What a joy to see you blossom here in Nashville, Kels! How grateful I am that this is a season of love and laughter and friendship like you’ve never known before. As you said, God is faithful. Live for Him and watch how He will bless you. How great that you are experiencing that firsthand, newly married to Kyle, the man of your dreams. So glad that in this season you’re close to home, still the light of our family, the laughter in our hearts. I pray God will bless you and Kyle mightily in the years to come. In the meantime, you’ll be in my heart every moment. And wherever you sing and dance and act for Him, we’ll be in the front row! I love you, sweetheart.
To Tyler, my lasting song . . .
Some of my favorite moments since you left for college are when we gather around the kitchen computer and talk to you on Skype. I love that in those moments you slip into your funny self, making us laugh until we cry and pretending to be every cut-up character that comes to your mind. But while you can still make us laugh, you are growing into such an amazing godly young man. Your blog, Ty’s Take, is being followed by readers who long to know how God is working in your life while you’re at college. Your dad and I are so proud of you, Ty. We’re proud of your talent and your compassion for people and your place in our family. However your dreams unfold, we’ll be cheering loudest as we watch them happen. Hold on to Jesus, son. I love you.
To Sean, my happy sunshine . . .
You are growing up and listening to God’s lead, and in the process you are taking your studies and your homework so much more seriously. God will bless you for how you’re being faithful in the little things, Sean. He has such great plans ahead for you. Remember, home is where your heart is always safe. Keep working . . . keep pushing . . . keep believing. Go to bed every night knowing you did all you could to prepare yourself for the doors God will open in the days ahead. I pray that as you soar for the Lord, He will allow you to be a very bright light indeed. You’re a precious gift, son. Keep smiling and keep seeking God’s best.
To Josh, my tenderhearted perfectionist . . .
Soccer was where you started when you first came here from Haiti, and soccer is the game that God seems to be opening up for you. In a number of ways God is showing you that through soccer, you can be a very bright light for Him. But as proud as I am of your athleticism, I’m most proud of your growth this past year. You’ve grown in heart, maturity, kindness, quiet strength, and the realization that time at home is short. God is going to use you for great things, and I believe He’ll put you on a public platform to do it. Stay strong in Him, and listen to His quiet whispers so you’ll know which direction to turn. I’m so proud of you, son—I’ll forever be cheering on the sidelines. Keep God first in your life. I love you always.
To EJ, my chosen one . . .
EJ, I wish you could know just how much we love you and how deeply we believe in the great plans God has for you. One day not too far from here, you’ll be applying to colleges, thinking about the career choices ahead of you, the path God might be leading you down. Wherever that path takes you, keep your eyes on Jesus, and you’ll always be as full of possibility as you are today. I expect great things from you, EJ, and I know the Lord does, too. I’m so glad you’re a part of our family, always and forever. I love you more than you know. I’m praying you’ll have a strong passion to use your gifts for God as you move through your sophomore year. Thanks for your giving heart, EJ. I love you so.
To Austin, my miracle boy . . .
Austin, I love that you care enough to be and do your best. It shows in your straight A’s and it shows in the way you treat your classmates. Of course, it absolutely shows when you play any sport. Always remember what I’ve told you about that determination. Let it push you to be better, but never, ever let it discourage you. You’re so good at life, Austin. Keep the passion and keep that beautiful faith of yours. Every single one of your dreams is within reach. Keep your eyes on Him, and we’ll keep our eyes on you, our youngest son. There is nothing more sweet than cheering you boys on—and for you, that happened from the time you were born, through your heart surgery until now. I thank God for you, for the miracle of your life. I love you, Austin.
And to God Almighty, the Author of Life,who has—for now—blessed me with these.
C HA P T E R O N E
S
he should have said something.
Even now, seven years later, with Thanksgiving dishes put away and another lonely December rushing up at her, Molly Allen knew the truth. Her year, her life, her Christmas . . . all of it might be different if only she’d said something.
The possibilities plagued her that Black Friday. They walked with her through the front door of her Portland, Oregon, private foundation office, hovered beside her over lunch at P.F. Changs, and distracted her every time she stopped in to see the cats and dogs at her animal rescue shelter.
This was Video Day. Molly’s day after Thanksgiving.
Everyone else in the greater Portland area spent the day hunting bargains and stopping in at her shelter to
see if the gift they wanted might be in a cage instead of a Walmart. But now, as the day wound down, while shoppers unpacked their bags and counted their savings, Molly would snuggle beneath a blanket by herself and watch the video.
The way she did every year on this day.
She tucked a strand of long blond hair behind her ear and stooped down to the oversize cage on the bottom row. The room echoed with a dozen different barks and whimpers and cries for attention. A chorus of unrest and slight concern from the animals rescued this month to her shelter, one arm of the Allen Foundation’s efforts.
“Okay, Buster.” She unlatched the cage and welcomed a curly-haired gray terra-poo into her arms. “It’s your lucky day. Yes, it is.” She snapped a leash to Buster’s collar. The dog was a two-year-old, stuck at the shelter for three weeks. Longer than usual, considering this was Christmastime, and the cute dogs usually went first. She scratched the dog just above his ear. “Let’s get you to your family.”
For good measure, she made a general announcement to the others. “It’s still seven days till December, gang. Your turn will come!”
Buster wagged his tail furiously as Molly led him to the lobby. She liked Buster’s new family. Of course, she liked most families. Anyone willing to rescue a pet was a friend of hers, no question. But this family with their twin seven-year-old boys seemed special. Their eyes lit up as Molly rounded the corner with Buster.
“Daddy, that’s him! Our Buster dog!” One of the boys ran up and dropped to his knees, hugging Buster around his neck.
The other boy was quieter and hung back by their parents. His grin brightened the room all the same. The family had already signed the necessary paperwork, so this was the last step. Both parents shook her hand as they left. “What you’re doing here, it’s making a difference.” The dad’s eyes were warm. “I have a feeling you could be doing many more things with your time.” He nodded at her. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you.” Molly hesitated. “Happy holidays.”
The family turned their attention to Buster and the excitement of getting him out the door in the pouring rain and into their van parked just outside. As the family drove off, Molly checked the time. Six minutes till closing. She walked to the door and flipped the
sign. The cages were clean, and the animals all exercised by ten volunteer high school kids who had worked until an hour ago. She would check the water bowls and head home.
H
e called the video project “The Bridge.”
Somewhere in the opening credits, he wrote this descriptor:
How a small-town boy from Carthage, Mississippi, and a highbrow girl from Pacific Heights, California, found common ground on a daily commute down Franklin Road outside Music City to The Bridge—the best little bookstore in the world
.
Too wordy, too many locations, Molly had told him. The two of them would laugh about how he ever could’ve gotten an A on the assignment with such a horrific descriptor.
Molly set her drenched things down just inside the door of her walk-up apartment, turned on the lights, and took off her dripping raincoat. She lived well below her means, in a new two-bedroom unit on the famous NW Twenty-third Street. Trees along Twenty-third sparkled with twinkling lights even in July, and
the street boasted local coffee shops, cafés, and boutiques with only-in-Portland art and fashion. The pace and people took the edge off.
Her father would have hated it.
Dinner simmered in the Crock-Pot, vegetable potato soup with fresh-diced leeks and garlic and parsley. The soup he taught her to make. Her Black Friday soup. A whiny meow came from the laundry room, and her cat Sam strolled up, rubbing against her ankles. He was a funny cat. More dog than feline. “Hi, Sam.”
He flopped down on the kitchen floor and put his head between his paws.
“Exhausted, are you?” She bent down and scratched beneath his chin. “Good boy, Sam. Don’t overdo it.”
She ladled out a small bowlful of soup, grabbed her blanket and the remote control and settled into one half of her leather loveseat. The top button on the remote dimmed the lights, and the next would start the movie, which had been in the player since early that morning.
Molly caught her hair in her hands and pulled it to one side.