CHAPTER 4
Randy stared at him, then at Monica, as shock and disbelief rushed through his whole being. Kristen arrested? Charged for unlawful assembly? And just for rehearsing for a Christmas pageant? It was unthinkable!
“I’ll kill them,” he muttered. “How dare they take my daughter?!” He clenched his hands into such tight balls his knuckles turned white.
Monica laid a hand on his arm. “We will go to the police station right now. When we get there, I’ll do what I can to persuade the police captain to let them go.”
Randy nodded. “I’ll get my coat.” He rushed upstairs, shoes thudding on the carpeted stairs, as Monica and Andrew exchanged troubled glances.
On the second floor, as Randy entered his bedroom, he stopped to take a deep breath. “Pull yourself together, Randy,” he told himself. “You’ll be no use to Kristen, like this.” He gazed at a framed photograph of his wife, sitting on the nightstand next to his bed, then sighed. “Laura, you are so fortunate you’re not here. You’d be crushed to see the churches being ground down like this.”
Thinking about that brought back the memory of the night she had disappeared...
Randy awakened from a sound sleep. Something was not right.
He turned over, and laid his arm across--a soft, crumpled bedspread. Nothing lay under it. Yawning, he opened his eyes, then froze. His wife was gone!
Frowning, he pushed himself upward into a half-sitting position. “Laura? Where are you?”
No answer. He maneuvered his legs over the edge of the bed, pushed the bedcovers back, and stood up. Pulling back the covers on his wife’s side, he saw Laura’s nightgown and dentures lying on the crumpled sheet. It was a silent August night, and darkness filled the room.
“Laura?” Randy called softly. He didn’t want to wake Kristen. “Laura! Where are you?”
He rushed out of the room, and spent the next 15 minutes searching the whole house. Kristen was in bed asleep, but his wife was nowhere to be found!...
Randy shook his head, attempting to drive away the memories. “Kristen needs my help now,” he muttered, marching toward the closet door. “And she’s going to get it!” He ground his teeth as he yanked the closet open. “I swear, so help me, if they do anything to my daughter, I’ll wring their necks!”
___________________________________
Crouched on a bench in the crowded police station, Kristen rocked back and forth, weeping. “Why?” she moaned. “Why me? Why--why--?” Her voice choked.
“Shh.” Tess’s voice, low and soothing, calmed her; in the next instant, the heavy-set angel bent over to hug the hysterical girl. “God is with us, Kristen, and He will see us through this. These are bad times, all over the world, and it will be very hard on churches everywhere. All will need God to see them through these times.”
Kristen shook her head, then wiped her eyes. “But why?” She glared at Tess. “It’s no crime to put on a pageant!”
Sighing, Tess perched on the bench beside her. Clasping her hands together, she glanced out the window at the darkening landscape, then back at Kristen. “I’m afraid it is, now. Every nation on this planet is under a world government and a world religion, and that religion has forbidden Christian pageants.”
She laid a hand on Kristen’s shoulder. “Baby, listen to me. God is with us, and He intends for our pageant to be held. He will make a way to do it.” Swallowing a sob, Kristen rubbed her eyes, then slouched against the wall. Tess put her arm around the young girl’s shoulder, hugging Kristen against her. “It’s OK, baby. I’m with you. And more importantly, so is God.” Her perfume wafted toward Kristen’s nose; the feel of Tess’s arm around Kristen’s upper back comforted her.
Nodding, Kristen scanned the assembled participants huddled in kneeling and sitting positions on the black-and-white tile floor. Even the other teenagers had been arrested; clasping a black leather purse in her right hand, Gloria was kneeling with them, trying to comfort them. Kristen had moved away from them earlier, not wanting to sit with the other kids in these conditions. At the captain’s desk, an African-American man sat reading a sheaf of papers. An overhead light bulb shed a harsh light throughout the room. How long, Kristen wondered, until they would all be locked up in crowded jail cells?
The door swung open; her father marched into the station, face etched with an enraged expression, and followed by Monica and another policeman. Kristen leaped to her feet. “Daddy!”
Tess rose to her feet and touched the girl’s shoulder. “Not now. Your daddy and Monica are here to try to get us released.”
Andrew approached the police captain, who laid down his papers and leaned back in his chair. “Sam?” he said, in a low voice, as he leaned his elbow on the table’s unyielding surface. Unknown to the humans beings held in that station, Sam was a Special Forces angel; he had seniority over Tess.
Sam nodded. “The regular captain was called out on an emergency, and he won’t be back tonight.” As Monica stepped up next to Andrew, Sam glanced at the participants huddled across the room. “He wants to fingerprint them, book them. He was all set to when he was called away.”
Randy pressed his lips into a tight line. His face turned red. “You realize my daughter’s in that bunch?” he hissed. “All she wanted to do was take part in a church pageant, make some friends there! My little girl’s never been in trouble in her life!”
He looked at his daughter, as she wrung her hands, then waved toward the huddled teenagers. “And look at those other young people! See how frightened they are! You’re actually going to put kids in jail, Captain?” Clenching his fists, he glared at Sam fiercely.
The Special Forces angel raised his hand to calm the man down. “I see your anger, Mr. Oates, and believe me, I feel as you do. I don’t approve of imprisoning people for putting on church pageants either. Least of all young teenagers.”
Andrew nodded agreement. “And neither do I. And I certainly don’t approve of imprisoning Kristen Oates. From what I can see, she’s a nice girl. Law-abiding.” He pulled a pocket watch out of his pants pocket; it gleamed in the harsh overhead light as he gazed at it. Without a word, Andrew shoved it back into his pocket, then glanced toward Tess and Kristen.
Leaning forward, Monica put a hand on the desk. “Won’t you release them, Sam?” she pleaded. “It may be the law of the new world government to forbid such assemblies, but it is not against the law of God.”
Sam nodded agreement. In a low voice, he said, “I agree, Monica, and I have my orders from the Father.” He glanced at the group, then back at Monica. Out loud, he added, “I will let them go. And I will do what I can to keep the police captain from arresting them again, at least for now.”
Smiling broadly, Andrew thanked him and approached the church pageant participants. “The police captain has decided to release you,” he said loudly. Squealing with joy, they leaped to their feet. In a low voice, he told Tess, “Go ahead and hold the rehearsals. The Father is with us, and He will see that the pageant is held.”
Smiling, Tess rose to her feet. “You’re a good angel boy,” she whispered. Out loud, she told the others, “All right, let’s go!” She turned to Kristen. “You may as well go home with your father. You can come to the next rehearsal, tomorrow. Give me the costume; I’ll hold for you until then.”
Removing the Mary robe, Kristen handed it to Tess, then rushed toward her father, who clasped her against his chest for a long moment. “All right, honey, let’s go home,” he said. He escorted her out the door, followed by Monica.
Minutes later, as father and daughter approached their front door under a starry night sky, they froze for a moment, standing stock-still. Randy had turned on the porch light upon his departure; the Christmas wreath hung on the door, pine cones and the red satin bow glistening in the light. “What the--?” Randy gulped.
Entering their living room, the two froze, gaping. The Christmas tree Randy had trashed stood in a corner, decorated and brilliantly lit. Ropes of evergreen and sprigs of holly hung across the top of the window; a Nativity scene stood on top of the TV set.
The old Santa Claus figure stood on a bookshelf across the room from the TV set; a small Yule log rested on the coffee table, surrounded by evergreen and pine cones. A tall red candle rose from a hole in its middle. The balls and other decorations on the Christmas tree glistened and glimmered in the lamplight. A glowing glass angel perched at the top of the tree shed soft beams of light around it.
Randy and Kristen exchanged startled glances, then a pleased expression spread across Kristen’s face. “Dad, did--did you do this?”
Randy shook his head, gaping at the Christmas tree. “No, honey, I--I threw them away. All of them.” He slowly approached the tree, and touched one of the Christmas balls. “How--who--?”
“We did.”
END OF CHAPTER 4