Free The Bridge by Karen Kingsbury Page B

He gave a quick shake of his head, as if by doing so he could rid himself of the voices. Why was it so cold? He rubbed his hands together. Franklin hadn’t been this cold as far back as he could remember. More snow was expected in the next few hours.
    The Bridge was freezing inside, the utilities long since turned off due to nonpayment. Not that it mattered. It was Tuesday, December 11, and he was no closer to buying books for his store. No closer to finding an answer to the debt weighing him down and pressing in around him.
    Which was why he’d come here this afternoon with the mail. He had submitted a loan application to the banker who once spent his free time here at The Bridge with his wife. If anyone could approve a loan, it was this man. “I have a good feeling about this, God . . . I know how You are. How You like to comethrough at the last minute.” He laughed, the sound lost on his chattering teeth. “That’s gonna happen here. I can feel it.”
    Charlie, you’re crazy. No one would loan you money. You’re not worth anything. You’re a bookseller, Charlie. Banks loan money to people with a way to pay it back. Come on .
    “Stop!” This time he raised his voice. “Jesus . . . give me peace. Stop the voices. Please!”
    And like that, they were quiet.
    His hands trembled more than before. He laid the envelopes out on his front counter. Two pieces, all that he’d brought for this moment. The first from his banker friend. The second from the company that leased him the building. Suddenly, the stone countertop caught his attention.
    As if he might find a way back to the days before the store died, Charlie spread his hands lightly over the counter. How many conversations had he shared over this piece of stone? And how many books had passed over the counter on their way to changing a life? Even saving a life? Books could do that. It was the reason Charlie believed in the bookstore.
    It had saved his, after all. No other way he wouldhave survived the loss of their little girl, the loss of the dream of a family. His hope was found in books, and in novels of redemption and hope, purpose and true love. Through them God had given him a purpose. The purpose of putting books in the hands of other people like him.
    Hurting people.
    He straightened and took a deep breath. Waiting wouldn’t change the contents inside the envelopes. Since only the banker’s letter could contain the answer he needed, he started with the letter from the leasing company. A week ago he’d called the manager and asked for time. “The flood did me in,” he told the man. “Please give me another two months to start making money. Then I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
    The man reluctantly agreed to take the case to his supervisor. Whatever their answer, it was contained in the piece of mail in front of him. He loosened the flap with his thumb and willed his hands to be still. If only it were warmer in here. He eased the letter from the envelope and opened it. His fingers shook so much, the sound of rattling paper filled the empty space.
Dear Mr. Barton ,
As per your request to extend grace in the payment of your lease, we have reached a decision. Ultimately, we would have agreed to your request. However, we have been contacted by the building’s owner, and he is no longer in a position to wait on your lease payments. He has decided to sell the building, and he would like to offer it to you first .
    Charlie’s breath came in short bursts, and as his eyes fell on the asking price for the small house, he felt his knees start to buckle. He couldn’t pay the gas bill, let alone buy the building. He skipped ahead to the next section, where the manager regretfully informed him that he had until January 1 to either leave the premises and turn in the key or make an offer on the property.
    Less than three weeks.
    Even with the loan, he wouldn’t be able to make things right now. Although maybe he could use the loan to catch up on his back