Mama’s arm tightened around Vadick’s chest. Her tears fell on his singed face. “Please God, help us.”
A shot parted the crack and hiss of flames.
Vadick closed his eyes and wept.
“Jesus wept.”
Vadeem stared at Pyotr. Grief fisted his chest in a death hold. Fury rolled into a ball in his throat and threatened to close it. It hurt to breathe.
“Jesus wept,” Pyotr repeated. “Our Lord saw Mary’s pain, and it moved him so that he wept for her.” He looked up, eyes on the congregation, mercifully moving past Vadeem without hesitation. “And he weeps for you. He knows the trials, the horrors we’ve all suffered, and he weeps for us.”
Vadeem felt tears gather at the back of his eyes and he ducked his head. The old woman’s hand still gathered the folds of his jacket. He wrenched it away, wishing he could dive over her and crawl of out this miserable sanctuary, out of this town, out of this life.
“Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”
Vadeem’s head snapped up, gaze tight on Pyotr as the pastor read. Vadeem held his breath.
Pyotr smiled. “Did I not tell you, that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” He closed his Bible, reciting the rest from memory. “Lazarus come out! The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen and a cloth around his face.”
Pyotr paused. In the space of sound Vadeem counted his heartbeats as they slammed against his chest.
“So they might see the glory of God and believe, my friends. Only God can take tragedy and carry us through it, showing Himself glorious. Only He can free us from our pain of suffering, our losses. Only He can take us out of death into life. It is all about believing in the eternal. Believing in the plan of God. Believe… and you will see the glory of God. ‘A man who walks by day will not stumble. For he sees by this world’s light. It is when he walks by night that he stumbles, for he has no light’. Keep your eyes on the light and believe.”
Vadeem wove his hands into his hair, surprised to find sweat beaded at his temples. He’d been walking in darkness so long, the light might be more than he could bear.
Vadeem was still waiting, just like he promised. Kat stepped out of the church, into the night, feeling fresh and clean. Renewed. Fellowship with the body of Christ, regardless of the country or the language, invigorated her spirit. Pyotr’s words came back to her. “Believe in the plan of God. Keep your eyes on the light and believe.”
The story of Lazarus always moved a place inside her. Jesus wept. Seeing the character of God, weeping at human pain and sorrow, touched her heart in ways she couldn’t express. Oh, how she loved a God who didn’t hide emotion, but let them see His love in the tears on His face.
If only Vadeem could know such a God. If only he might believe that, whatever lay hidden in his past, God wept for him.
The night air was fresh, laden with the fragrance of the poplar and willow. The dark sky to the east sparkled with a smattering of stars peeking out between the camouflage of clouds. Kat hitched her backpack on her shoulder and started toward the car, anxious for Pyotr to finish his duties with the believers inside so she could talk to his mother.
She prayed the old woman would be able to connect Kat, somehow, to Anton Klassen. In her most wild dreams, Baba Rina would know about an ancient key, and a monk named Timofea.
Kat stepped out into the sidewalk, paused, and waited for a car to pass. Vadeem hadn’t seen her yet. Obviously weary of waiting, he had his head down, a thumb and forefinger pinching his temples, the other balled into a fist at his side as he leaned against Pyotr’s blue Zhiguli. The car passed.
Kat didn’t move. She stared at Vadeem in horror as realization washed over her. Vadeem’s shoulders shook, his jaw clenched so tightly she could feel the pain knotted in his chest.
Vadeem was crying.
Saliva pooled in Kat’s mouth as she watched him drag in a long, ragged breath.
Panic rushed into her limbs; was he hurt?
In an abrupt movement, he whirled, balled his right hand, and slammed it into the hood of the Zhiguli. The sound thundered into the night.
Kat jerked. No, definitely not hurt. At least not physically. Her own eyes burned, watching him struggle.
The last thing he needed right now was her sudden appearance. Prayer, yes, definitely prayer, but walking into his pain would only make it worse.
Kat backed away, turned, and stiff walked past the church, to a small grove of trees beyond the wooden fence line. Leaning against a poplar, she set her backpack down, watching Vadeem out of the corner of her eye. He braced both hands on the car hood, head down, breathing hard.
She lifted her gaze to the heavens and prayed.
A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, crushed her lips to her teeth. “Don’t scream and you might live.”
Chapter 15
Vadeem braced himself against the car hood, his teeth clenched, his pulse hammering in his head.
Get a hold of yourself. He had nearly mowed down the startled babushka with his faster-than-lightning escape from the church. He put a hand to his chest, pushing against a burning deep inside. Trotting down memory lane rehashing his nightmares was the last thing he needed to do with his addled brain cells right now. He slammed his fist against into the hood of the car. What was he doing here, out in the middle of nowhere, hanging onto the heels of an American like a lonely puppy when he had a smuggler to catch?
Keep your eyes on the light. Oh yeah, he’d seen the light. Seen it sputter, burn out, and plunge him into darkness. A darkness that got deeper and colder every day he lived in the orphanage, a darkness that eventually became his friend, secreted him from feelings, from pain. Darkness became comforting in its oblivion.
Unfortunately, Kat was all light and hope, and he could feel that brightness moving into his dark places, sunshine over the frigid tundra. And, like heat moving into frozen limbs, it hurt. The sooner he got Kat and her precious book back to Moscow, the sooner he could shove her on a plane for the States and resume his stumble through life.
His throat burned. He could strangle Kat for being so breathtaking. For having amber speckled eyes that reached out to him like a gift. For having laughter and a tenderness to her touch that made him ache. He’d just have to bury it. Bury the memory of waking up to her delicious smile, bury the fragrance she left behind like a souvenir. Bury the feeling of joy that bubbled to the surface when entered his atmosphere.
Where was she?
Swiping at his eyes, he sucked in a breath and turned, his gaze fixed on the church entrance. The babushka who had nearly wrestled him into church hobbled out of the front door, hanging on another young victim. Vadeem crossed his arms over his chest. A car drove past him, kicking up dust. Around him the night was closing in, the sun to the west already gone, leaving only a dent of lavender in its wake. The church fence sent jagged shadows across the road.
Pyotr appeared in the door, looked at Vadeem, and waved like a long lost friend.
Oh yes, the pastor had definitely seen him in the back row. Vadeem looked away, jaw tight. If the guy even hinted—
“Where’s Kat?”
Vadeem looked at him, panic swelling in his chest. “What?”
Pyotr tucked his Bible under his arm and zipped up his jacket. “She left before I did. I thought she would be out here, waiting with you.”
Vadeem ran across the road, toward the church. Kat, if you ditched me—
He’d wanted to believe they’d established some sort of magical bond of trust last night. He wanted to believe she trusted him. Still, her quest had driven her beyond what he’d call normal behavior… “Kat!” His voice betrayed his frustration. He dashed into the church, ignoring the tightening of his chest. The gloom of dusk filled the sanctuary. A lone parishioner swept the floor and straightened pews. Vadeem stood for a moment with a hand clutched to the back of his neck. Then he whirled and strode out.