Free The Seat Beside Me by Nancy Moser Page A

highlighted.”
    “By what? Glowing lights from heaven?”
    For the first time, Henry smiled. “By a yellow highlighting pen.”
    “I like my version better. More drama. What did the verse say?”
    “It was Isaiah 30:19–21.”
    George sighed, not in the mood to be preached to.
    Henry hesitated for a moment. “They were good verses about God having a plan for us. They ended with ‘This is the way; walk in it.’ ”
    “What is the way?”
    “That’s the part I didn’t know—don’t know. I’ve been waiting for God to give me details, to tell me what to do next. I have this enormous feeling of anticipation, as if I’m on the verge of something big.” He looked at George. “Does that sound crazy … or presumptuous?”
    Yes, and yes . “That depends.”
    “On what?”
    “On what God’s told you to do.”
    Henry raked his fingers through his hair. “Nothing! Don’t you see? This feeling of anticipation has grown stronger since it happened, but there aren’t any details. It’s like I’m being brought to the edge of a cliff, and I don’t know if I’ll find a bridge there, a parachute, or be expected to fly.”
    “Or if you’ll be pushed off.”
    Henry sucked in a breath, and George regretted his words. “Don’t mind me. I’m suicidal.”
    “But I’m not!”
    George put a hand on his arm. “But you’re afraid … of death. You must think this ‘way’ has something to do with death.”
    “No, I don’t.” He lowered his voice. “I think the way will have something to do with how I’m supposed to live my life. Something I’m supposed to accomplish. I’ve tried to be a good person, tried to stay out of trouble, tried to be a good father and husband, but as far as doing anything huge or monumental, I can’t imagine what it would be.” He put a fist to his gut. “And yet the feeling is so strong.”
    “Hey, Henry, none of us have all the answers. None of us know the future.”
    “You do. You’re going to take the future by the horns and—” “Flip it over, dead.”
    Henry rubbed his face. “I shouldn’t have told you. This conversation isn’t helping either of us.”
    “Sure it is. This conversation reminds you that you have a distinct destiny to play out.”
    “God has a plan for your life too.”
    George shook his head. “I’ll talk destiny; you can talk God. God’s never given me a verse. He’s never told me—in any way—what to do with my life. Guidance, even confusing guidance, is better than silence.”
    “Have you asked Him for guidance?”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “You’ve never prayed?”
    George fingered the top of the magazine in the seat pocket. “Sure I’ve prayed. I was brought up praying. And don’t think I didn’t pray buckets when Irma got sick—little good it did.”
    “God said no.”
    He’d never heard it put so bluntly. “You could say that. God said, no way, no how, uh-uh, see you later. Don’t call Me, I’ll call you.”
    “He must have had His reasons.”
    George shook his head. “Can’t think of a single one.”
    “Sometimes we don’t understand—”
    George laughed. “That’s an understatement.” He pointed at Henry. “And you are further proof. God gives you this direction, but He doesn’t have the decency to tell you what it means.”
    “I’m sure He will. When He’s ready. God is never late and never early.”
    “I bet you have that gem cross-stitched and hanging above the john, right?”
    “It’s the truth.”
    George had enough. “The truth is, God’s confused you by making you dwell on this mysterious way. He’s got you so messed up you’re like a bead of water on a frying pan, jumping around, trying to get off the plane and not knowing why.”
    “I stayed, didn’t I?”
    “Only because the stewardess strapped you in. Not ’cause of anything God did to comfort you.”
    Henry stared into space. Then he turned to George. “Maybe He sent you to comfort me.”
    George laughed. “Me? Surely you