Race Against Time (13 page)

A minute passed.

“Zoya?”

“I’m angry.”

“At who?”

“God. That’s who.” The steely voice was so unlike the quiet, sweet one that always came out of Zoya’s mouth. Uh oh. Anesia felt like someone dark and raging had swapped places with her daughter. Whatever had hold of her . . .

Deep breath. This was worse than she imagined. “You’re angry at God? Why?”

“Because He let it happen, that’s why. He let me be on that trail. Allowed those men to be there. Allowed them to shoot that guy.
Allowed
me to get shot. To see the murder. And the images won’t go away.”

Anesia’s jaw dropped. No words would come.

“I think every sound is a gunshot. I keep feeling the numbing zing of that bullet. How I thought I was gonna die. And now, because I’m a witness to a murder, God took my dream away. The one thing I loved to do.” Her daughter turned her face away. “I’ll lose my best friend. And I’ll lose you. I’ll never win the championship, and never make Dad proud of me. ’Cause you’ll never let me race again!” Zoya flung the door open, jumped out of the vehicle, and ran to the edge of the woods.

“Zoya!” Her scream didn’t deter the progress her daughter made across the snow-encrusted terrain. Anesia watched her daughter collapse at the treeline. A knife in the stomach couldn’t have hurt worse.

Zoya knew.

Anesia
had
decided it wasn’t safe to let her daughter race anymore. At least for a while. She’d wanted to protect her only child. But her kid was smart. They could read each other like books.

Zoya knew her mother would do everything in her power to keep her safe. Anesia hadn’t voiced her concerns yet, but there wasn’t a need. Zoya
knew
.

As she reached for the driver door, Anesia wrestled in her mind to figure out a solution. The door creaked open, and she jumped out, thoughts tumbling in her head. How could she fix this? Zoya said she was angry at God and if Anesia kept her from racing, would her sweet daughter turn that anger toward her as well?

Each step felt like a mile.
Oh God, give me the words. Give me wisdom. I don’t know what to do. And I’m afraid. Afraid for Zoya, afraid to lose her. Afraid of her anger and what this could do to her.

She reached the balled-up form. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.” Zoya’s words were muffled by her sleeve. “You’re just trying to protect me. I know that. But I don’t have to like it.”

“No. You don’t have to like it.”

Zoya finally looked up. “I
hate
it. Hate that one minute everything is fine and then the next freaky minute my whole world is changed. And I didn’t want it to change.”

Anesia opened her arms. Zoya moved into them. Her once quiet daughter was dealing with more than she’d ever imagined.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” She grappled for words. “As your mom, I want to take all the pain away and fix it. But I can’t.”

“I know, Mom. I hate it. It’s eating me up. I’ve never felt so black and ugly and gross on the inside. I’m so mad, I could spit. I want to bite everyone’s head off. I don’t want anyone to talk to me. Don’t want anyone to care.”

“Well, that’s where you
can
do something about it. You’ve got to let go of this anger, Zoya. You’ve got to give it to God.”

“No!” The word was half anger, half wail.

“He could’ve stopped it from happening, Mom. Could’ve protected me from it. My life was fine before all this happened. He’ll just let me down again. What if He makes
more
junk happen?”

“Zoya Sabiile’! God did not let you down. Those men who committed the crime are the ones who did wrong. Not you. Not God. He loves you. And whether you want to admit it or not, ‘junk’—like you put it—happens to all of us. To good people. All the time. And you know good and well that God never promised us an easy life on this earth. Remember what we studied in history? Remember the Roman Empire? Can you imagine what it was like to be a Christian then? To know that you could be crucified at any moment because of your faith? Could be sent to lions in the Coliseum? Or forced into slavery? Are you blaming God for all the bad things in history as well?”

Zoya squeezed harder.

“And what about Andie? Look at all she’s been through. Her nerve disorder, all the doctor’s appointments, hospital visits, MRIs, CT scans . . . never being considered a ‘normal’ kid. Brain surgery.”

Zoya looked at the ground.

Anesia couldn’t give up now. “Well? You think God
made
it happen to her?”

Her daughter shrugged.

“And look at what God has done
through
those circumstances. Look at what He’s done in my life and in yours—just because we know them and love them.”

A sniff was her only response.

Anesia sighed. Long and hard. “I’m no great theologian. You know that. But”—she held her daughter at arm’s length and looked straight into her eyes—“I see a beautiful young woman in front of me who loves the Lord. And I see all the wonderful things He’s done in you and through you, and I see that He’s got a mighty plan for you. Don’t you think that the enemy
wants
you to be angry? He wants to keep you from giving God the glory. He wants to keep you from focusing on the Lord. His goal is to keep you from everyone and everything, and to keep you in this black hole. ’Cause personally, I think he knows your potential. Your potential to live for God and be a shining light through all this darkness. And that scares him.”

Zoya’s eyes widened again. She walked a few steps away.

Anesia waited.
Oh God, bring her back to me. Please
.

Zoya turned. Her face an unreadable mask. Hands clenching and unclenching.

For a few moments Anesia couldn’t breathe. Time stood still as her heart cried out to God. She felt the spiritual battle going on around her. In her desire to break through to Zoya, she’d hit the nail on the head. God had given Zoya incredible gifts. Anesia knew that. And now with a clarity she’d never before had, she saw that what she’d said was so true. Zoya’s precious life could touch so many.

The enemy hated that.

Battle lines had been drawn.

Deep within her soul, Anesia knew it was just the beginning. Was she ready for this?
Oh God, give me strength.

Zoya turned back to her in her pacing. A tortured look on her face.

Lord, help us to put on our armor. I know I’ve been sorely lacking in that area.

Anesia stood taller, bracing herself.

Her own words to God flitted through her mind . . . she was afraid to lose Zoya. Kept crying out to God to bring her daughter back, to give her strength to make it through.

And yet, what had she been doing?

Relying on her own strength.

Stubborn, independent Anesia. Out to prove to the world that she didn’t need anyone or anything. Wanting to show everyone that she wasn’t a screw-up. That the unmarried, teen mom grew up to
be
somebody.

She’d been begging God for help all these years—and she believed He blessed her—but hadn’t thrown off her own shackles. Hadn’t rested in and savored His grace.

With Zoya’s back to her, Anesia knelt in the snow. The one way her daughter could truly find healing would be for Anesia to let go.

Give the reins to God and let Him be in control.

ZOYA

11:59 a.m.

“I see a beautiful young woman in front of me who loves the Lord . . . and I see that He’s got a mighty plan for you. Don’t you think that the enemy
wants
you to be angry?”

I stood still, staring out at the trees. Not wanting to think about what Mom said. But then again, I had to.

Was she right?

Could
she be right? Or was this just some plan to get me back to being myself?

No, Mom wouldn’t lie. Never had.

But how could I believe what she said? I couldn’t trust Him again. Wouldn’t. Could I?

I wanted to scream. To say it wasn’t fair. To yell and rant and rave about anything and everything. To give God a piece of my mind. To let Him know how I felt.

But what did I say? That the God of the universe wasn’t loving like He promised?

I fell to my knees.

Why? Why have You let all this happen? Why haven’t You been here for me? Why can’t I feel You?

The little voice began its tirade. It was annoying. But comforting all at the same time.
“Don’t trust Him, what has He done for you? What good has He done in your life?”

No. No, no, no!

The voice kept chanting, over and over again. I couldn’t get it to stop. The tears came flooding back. Again.

I wanted to let everything out. To cry out to God. But what if He didn’t answer? Was He there like He’d said?

I knew I couldn’t be angry anymore. But that didn’t mean I had to forgive Him, right?

I knew I needed Him. I knew He loved me. I knew it was wrong of me to blame everything on Him. I knew I needed His forgiveness.

But how did I start? How did I apologize for all I had done, thought, said?

God?

I’m sor—

No!

I turned and slammed my hand into the tree trunk.

He didn’t deserve that! If He was God let Him prove it!

God, You’re not doing anything! I can’t feel You!

My shoulders stiffened.

“Be still. . . wait upon the Lord.”

What?

I looked to the sky. My hands shook as I tried to wipe the hair off of my soggy face and searched for a sign. Anything.

God, show me! I don’t see You!
I swallowed.

The voice . . .
“Don’t listen. He would’ve shown you He was there if He cared.”

He wasn’t there.

I was a champion. My mom was a champion. My dad was a champion. I could beat this. Just persevere. Get it over with.

Right?

Yes. I could get through this. But if God wasn’t there to give me His strength, I’d do it on my own.

I leaned my head against the tree trunk and let myself cry.
You’re not here. Where are You?

I sniffed.

I’m fine. I can do this on my own.
I was strong and determined. I could do anything. I was a champion.

I sat up straight.

“You don’t need anyone.”

Not a God who says He’s there and isn’t.

I’m fine. Don’t need anyone.

I’m fine . . .

And I could play the part.

ANESIA

12:14 p.m.

Anesia inched closer to her teen.

Zoya.

Always so quiet. Stoic. Steady. Always had a smile handy and an encouraging word.

As she neared, she watched Zoya’s expression change. Anger, then indecisiveness, then . . . what?

Had she failed her daughter? Was it too late? Zoya’s face seemed cold and hard as the ice underfoot.

“What’s going through that head of yours?”

Zoya looked at her. Almost straight through her. Several seconds passed. Anesia held her breath . . . waiting, hoping. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to help her daughter. What if she didn’t break free of this oppression? What if the murder had done irreparable damage to Zoya’s psyche?

Had she lost her daughter?

Tears pricked the corners of Anesia’s eyes. Willing them to freeze where they were, she drew in another quick breath. And watched. And prayed.

“Are you worried about the note we found?”

Zoya shook her head, hard.

“Because you know they were just trying to scare us, right?”

A nod.

“Are you worried about me? ’Cause you should know by now that I can handle myself.” Moments stretched. Zoya held her gaze. “Oh, honey, talk to me. Please.”

Zoya’s shoulders crumpled. “Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry.” She ran into Anesia’s arms.

Anesia held her daughter tight. Relief flooded her body making her knees go weak. “I’ve been going about this all wrong. We’ve got a battle to fight.”

“I don’t want to fight any battles. I’m tired. I don’t want to deal with this anymore. I just want to go back to normal.”

“Oh, honey, I wish that were possible. I wish I could take it all away, but I can’t. We’ve got to deal with this and try to move on. You can’t keep pushing people away.”

Her daughter pulled away, looking down. “Maybe that’s what my dream meant.”

“Wanna finally tell me about it?”

“It was about Andie. I was angry and pushed
her
away. Just like God. But she stayed. And then, when someone tried to kill me, she took the bullet for me.”

“Just like Jesus on the cross.”

“Yeah. But I’m so terrified the dream is gonna come true. So I thought if I stayed angry at God and pushed everyone away, then no one would get hurt on account of me.” Her daughter wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Just stared at the ground, toeing the snow with her boot.

“Oh, Zoya.” She pulled her daughter back into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You’ve always talked to me about your dreams.”

“It was too easy to stay angry.” Her daughter looked away again.

Anesia nodded. Knew that feeling all too well.

“And just because you dream something doesn’t mean it’s going to come true.”

“It has before.”

“I know that. But you need to give it over to God. Don’t let fear take over. I’m working on the same thing. Realized that I didn’t have the right to be holding onto you so tight. You belong to Him first, not me.”

Zoya pulled back and straightened. Determination framed her face as she nodded.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” she half-smiled. “Can we still go eat at the Café? I’m dying for some croissant French toast.”

“Sure thing, Rainbow. Let’s give Jenna and Andie a call and see if they want to meet us there.”

They walked arm in arm back to the truck. “Now if only my fingers and toes will thaw out before we get there.”

Was it too much to hope that God had given her daughter back? Only time would tell.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ANESIA

January 16

235 North Santa Claus Lane, North Pole