listen.'
We were all silent. Mrs. Fairmont waited a few moments then sighed.
'It's gone.' She looked up at me with sad eyes. 'Or I had a hallucination. That can be part of my illness. What have I been doing?'
'Sitting in this chair and staring out the window while we brought in my things and put them in the basement.'
'Gracie says I sit and stare at nothing. It's like my brain freezes up, and I don't know it. I'm so scared that IT put something on the stove and won't watch it.'
'Maybe I can cook for you,' I said.
Mrs. Fairmont stared out the window in silence so long that I thought she'd had another brain freeze. She turned in her chair and saw Daddy. He stepped forward and gently took her hand in his.
'It was nice meeting you,' he said. 'I have to leave now. It's a long drive home.'
'Yes, it is,' she responded then continued staring.
Daddy and I quietly left the room.
'Her condition may be more serious than her daughter realizes,' Daddy said as we walked down the front steps. 'Keep a record of what happens for her family and the doctors. And pray there will be a chance to tell her about Jesus.'
'Yes sir.'
We reached the truck.
'Are you going to be okay on the drive?' I asked.
'Remember, I've hauled freight to California. The nap refilled my tank. I'll be in Powell Station by bedtime.'
I longed to go with him. He hugged me and deposited a last kiss on the top of my head.
'Call us.'
I nodded, not wanting to speak as emotion welled up in my heart. Daddy got in the truck and pulled away from the curb. I watched him leave, turned, and went inside the house.
Mrs. Fairmont was sitting in the den. She'd turned on the TV to an afternoon show. She muted the volume and motioned for me to come into the room.
'I'm better now,' she said. 'I drank a sip of water, and it washed away the cobwebs of my mind.'
'That's good.'
'But I know that water isn't the cure for what's wrong with me. Did I say anything stupid? I hate embarrassing myself.'
'You were staring out the window,' I answered slowly as I debated whether to mention the imaginary bird.
Mrs. Fairmont continued. 'Your father is a good man. I can tell by the way he looks at you that he loves you very much.'
'Yes ma'am. I'm blessed to have my family.'
Mrs. Fairmont pointed at the TV. 'This show is about children abandoned by fathers who turn up years later looking for a handout after the child becomes a financial success. What do you think about that?'
I watched the silent images of people pointing fingers and arguing with each other. The camera flashed to the studio audience, some of whom were on their feet yelling. It gave me a queasy feeling.
'That the producer of the TV show is more interested in entertainment than solutions. I wouldn't watch something like this.'
Mrs. Fairmont glanced at me with a frown on her face. 'You're probably right, but I want to hear what the host tells them to do. Why don't you go downstairs and finish unpacking your things.'
I WENT DOWNSTAIRS but didn't unpack. My first action was to pray that God would spiritually cleanse the beautifully decorated apartment. I went into the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. I prayed for about thirty minutes, then turned my focus to Mrs. Fairmont.
The spiritual warfare to be fought for the elderly woman's eternal destiny was real, and I would need all the help heaven could muster. I asked God for grace and the ability to discern his voice directing my steps. A few seconds later, a deep male voice faintly called my name. 'Tami!'
I'd never heard the audible voice of God. My guidance had been less distinct, but nonetheless effective. I'd learned to trust the impressions that came to my spirit as divine communication, a birthright I enjoyed as one of God's children. Passages of Scripture about the experiences of Moses, Samuel, and Isaiah raced through my mind. I shut my eyes tighter and clenched my hands together. I quickly settled on the response of the boy Samuel when the Lord spoke to him in the middle of the night.
'Speak, Lord,' I said under my breath. 'Your servant is listening.'
I waited. In a few seconds the voice spoke again, only louder.
'Tami Taylor!'
I kept my head bowed.
'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening,' I repeated.
I waited, but the voice didn't continue. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I opened my eyes, but the narrow bedroom was empty. I heard a loud knock that made me jump.
'Are you in there?' the voice repeated. 'It's Zach Mays from the law firm.'
I looked toward heaven and saw nothing except the white ceiling. At least I now knew that God didn't talk like the young lawyer from California.
'Just a minute. I'll be right there,' I called out.
I checked my appearance in the bathroom mirror. I certainly didn't look like I'd been to glory. After loading and unloading the truck, I resembled a chicken plant worker more than an aspiring lawyer. I quickly brushed my hair and splashed water on my face.
When I opened the door, Zach Mays was standing there wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a big tomato on it. He had his hair pulled back in a short, tight ponytail. His motorcycle helmet was under his arm.
'I'm here to help you get your ox out of the ditch,' he said with a smile. 'Am I too late?'
'My ox turned out to be a kitten,' I answered. 'Since I visited a few weeks ago, Mrs. Fairmont has totally redone this place. I didn't need the furniture I brought from my apartment at school.' I paused. 'Does Mrs. Fairmont know you're here?'
'I sneaked in through the garden,' he joked.
'I mean, she's not doing well mentally. She's confused and disoriented.'
'No, I didn't notice anything unusual when she let me in.'
At the mention of confusion, the absurdity of what I'd thought moments before hit me. Mrs. Fairmont imagined a bird flying around inside the house; I opted for the audible voice of God from the top of the stairs. Both of us were out of touch with reality. I started to chuckle, tried to stifle it, then burst out laughing. Zach stared at me in bewilderment.
'Mrs. Fairmont seems like a nice lady,' he said. 'I'm sorry she's having mental-'
I held up my hand. 'No, no. It's what you said.'
'What did I say?'
'My name,' I managed. 'Twice.'
'And why is that so funny?'
I laughed again. Zach Mays probably thought I was certifiably crazy, but I couldn't stop. I motioned for him to come into the apartment. He eased onto the sofa and placed his helmet beside him. I plopped down in a chair and wiped away the tears streaming down my cheeks.
'I'm sorry,' I said, taking a couple of deep breaths. 'I was in the bedroom praying when you called my name from the top of the stairs. I thought it was the voice of God.'
'You think I sound like God?'
I shook my head and stifled another wave of laughter. 'I've never heard the voice of God, but under the circumstances, my imagination played a trick on me. I didn't know there was a man in the house, and when a male voice calling my name came out of nowhere, I assumed it must be a messenger from heaven. I guess I'm not making a very good second impression, but at least I'm not trying to hide anything.' 'Good application of rule number three.'
