Free After All These Years by Sally John Page B

much of the time. But she loved the challenge of live radio and had talked the manager into letting her do the Saturday morning slot. She often scheduled an interview and church bulletin information after the children’s stories.
    There was plenty of time to grab another cup of coffee. She headed back down the hall, empty mug in hand. She needed coffee desperately. Fifteen minutes ago she had gone for some. Her mind wandered light years away, and she forgot to watch the large clocks that were never out of view around the studio. She wasn’t even aware of the broadcast until everything went quiet.
    Isabel entered the kitchenette located in a nook across the hall from the lobby. She had drained the pot the last time and now prepared fresh coffee. As it dripped into the carafe, she tuned her ears to the worship music. When it gave way to the house renovator’s voice, the pot was full and still she sat, not having heard one word of one song. Wearily, she stood and poured herself a mugful of coffee.
    Tony’s presence stirred so many memories and emotions. They had kept her awake most of the night. What was she supposed to do with them? They had been buried for years. No problem. Forgotten, right? That’s what God did with them. Forgave them and forgot them. She would rebury them. Same thing as forgotten.
    A banging on the front door disrupted her thoughts. She was the only one scheduled at the station today. Generally the secretary, engineer, and manager didn’t come in on Saturdays. Isabel kept the station locked. She left the tiny kitchen area and entered the lobby. There was a glass door, a small entry, and then another door. She saw Tony outside, waving his arms and grinning.
    Wham! All those half-buried emotions flung themselves at her with tornado force. Her second cup of coffee slid to the carpeted floor. She stared at him. He stopped waving and shrugged, questioning.
    Isabel went to the doors and opened them.
    â€œSorry, Izzy. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
    She pulled the exterior door shut behind him on the pretense of making sure the lock clicked, but in reality hiding her unguarded expression. “You just startled me.” So to speak.
    â€œThat’s amazing out there! I’ve never seen so much corn! And it’s growing to music!” His gesture encompassed the surrounding fields that always echoed with the broadcast. Except for a sliver of highway at the end of the long drive and the two radio towers, eight-foot-high corn stalks blocked views in every direction. “It’s gotta be the tallest corn in three counties.”
    In spite of her discomfort she had to smile at his exaggeration. “Tony, what are you doing here?” She retrieved the mug from the floor, making a mental note to scrub out the stains before she went home.
    â€œNice outfit. Designer?”
    She glanced down at the brown-splattered yellow shirt and the khakis damp from waist to ankle along her right leg. “
Again
you don’t answer my question. I thought you were leaving today.”
    â€œI am. On my way out of town right now.”
    â€œThis isn’t the route between Rockville and Chicago.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, I know. Listen, I was thinking. I need to spend more time with The Author. And you.” He spread his arms, palms up. “You were right, Iz. I don’t get it. None of you add up. For one thing, you were all
dancing
last night. I know for a fact that Christians don’t dance, they don’t chew, and they don’t go with girls that do.”
    â€œLast night’s square and line dancing was more like a PE class.” She gave her head a slight shake. What exactly was he getting at? “Tony, Christianity isn’t about rules.”
    â€œNews to me. Anyway, my editor can’t spare me to work more on this right now. It’s a freelance kind of thing, no deadline. I’ll be back in a week or so. I plan to stick like glue to Brady, except