Healing Waters by Stephen Arterburn, Nancy Rue Page A

message—wait.”
    There was some murmuring and receiver shifting, and then fragrant oils were suddenly being poured on his head in the form of Sonia Cabot’s voice.
    â€œSully Crisp,” she said.
    Sully felt himself grin. “When you produce an audition video for Survivor , you don’t mess around, do you?”
    Sonia laughed, a sound as delicious as her words. “When they create a show called Thriver , I will audition for that.”
    â€œI can tell this hasn’t slowed you down much,” Sully said. “You’re still running everything.”
    â€œWhy don’t you come up here and tell that to everybody else? I can’t convince these people I am ready to rock and roll.” She laughed again. “No, don’t. I’m coming back to Nashville anyway. Now, where are you? I haven’t heard anything about you in forever.”
    â€œTaking a little hiatus,” Sully said. “But I may be headed for Nashville myself.”
    â€œI love that! Come for lunch—no, dinner—no, spend a weekend. You know my guesthouse is always open.”
    She’d made that offer every time he’d seen her over the last five years. He could almost recite it word for word, and yet somehow it sounded different now—rehearsed. He’d never sensed that about her before. Dang. He’d been just about to go with the miracle theory that would let him off his own hook.
    â€œI might take you up on that,” he said. “Could you use a friend?”
    She laughed softly again. “I know what you’re doing, Sully, bless your heart, but I’m good. God is going to use me in some amazing way through this. I can’t wait to get in front of my audience again and share this.”
    Sully tried not to stumble over his tongue. He’d just read in an e-mail from Rusty that her entire face, head, and neck were burned. They must have made great strides in plastic surgery. Either that, or Sonia Cabot was in some serious denial.
    â€œYou know what you can do, Sully,” she said.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œYou can pray.”
    â€œI’ve already been on it.”
    â€œI want you to pray specifically. I want you to ask the Lord to take the fear out of my staff’s hearts so they’ll stop trying to protect me and get on with the work we’ve been given to do. Will you do that for me?”
    Sonia’s propensity to turn a prayer into a homily was one of the many ways her ministry differed from his, and Sully toyed with the possible answers like a Rubik’s cube. No, Sonia, because they have every reason to be afraid. No, Sonia, I’m not in the habit of giving God instructions. No, Sonia, I think you need to be protected until you deal with what’s happened to you.
    â€œTell you what,” he said. “I’ll talk that over with God and get back to you.”
    â€œI can’t wait to hear what He tells you.” She sighed into the phone. “Sully, I really appreciate your call. Will you promise to come see me?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    One more item on the growing list of reasons to go to Nashville. Take a list of possible therapists to Sonia. Be there for Dr. Ukwu. Record some podcasts on God knew what.
    Which was exactly the point. God did know what. And Sully knew where He might be willing to tell him.

    A mere twenty-four hours after Agent Schmacker’s visit, I was going to Sonia’s room to take her to physical therapy and ran into Marnie—who was doing a stiff-legged fast walk down the hall with the I-have-to-get-this-done-for-Sonia lines carved between her eyebrows.
    â€œI have to reschedule her appointment with PT,” she said over her shoulder.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œNothing—she’s having her board meeting in Lounge A.”
    â€œHer what ?”
    â€œI’m supposed to tell you to get in there—she wants you to talk to them.”
    Before I