Chapter 13
A rose can never be a sunflower, and a sunflower can never be a rose. All flowers are beautiful in their own way, and that’s like women too.
—Miranda Kerr
In the little kitchen, while Claire poured Chris a glass of sweet iced tea, she recovered her composure, reminding herself of the damage he had done. She handed him the glass, and he downed it like he was parched. She refilled it and they went into the small living area.
She wondered what he was thinking of her living conditions. This dumpy little house had a garage-sale vibe. She cast glances at him as he walked around the room. He looked a little rumpled from the car ride, but his clothing looked pricey, like he had moved up in the world. Could his magic show be doing that well?
Sitting on the couch, Claire tucked her hands under her. “You shouldn’t have bothered to come. I can’t go back to Sunrise.”
Chris sat across from her on a bean bag, downing the sweet tea refill. He was thirsty. After polishing off the tea, he set the glass on the floor beside him and shifted to get comfortable in the bean bag. One of Claire’s housemates had found it on the street and dragged it home. Claire wouldn’t go near it. “Why not? Why can’t you go back to Sunrise?”
Because it was just too, too hard. But she couldn’t admit that to him. Instead, she decided to switch the interviewer roles. “So are you ready to tell your tale?”
His eyebrows lifted. “The ‘walking on water’ trick? There were Pyrex platforms inside the tray.”
Huh. She hadn’t thought of that. “I didn’t see them.”
“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
She gave that some thought. It was just the kind of response she had enjoyed so much in knowing Chris. He had a different way of thinking than most people did. It’s why he could trick people so easily. Good magicians could tell who was vulnerable, and Chris was a very good magician.
Don’t forget, she reminded herself (though she didn’t need the reminding), that you were one of those vulnerable people. “Actually, I was referring to the tale of that August night, seven years ago.”
“I can tell you part of it. But I think the part you’re looking for will have to be told by Rose. And she wants to tell it in person.” He crossed one ankle over his knee. “So. Here goes what I can tell you about my tale. After the fire, I pled guilty to a Class D felony and was sentenced to thirty-eight months in a state prison. Got out early for good behavior. It helped that I was a minor when the fire occurred.”
She knew most of that by following the story online. Because he had pled guilty, Jaime, Tessa, and Claire didn’t need to return to Sunrise to testify in a trial.
“Prison wasn’t easy, but I wouldn’t trade it. Turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
“Because you had a come-to-Jesus moment?”
He tilted his head. “Now, that’s the second time you used that phrase. What does that really mean?”
“Your eyes were opened.” She sang a high-pitched “ahh” note to emphasize a religious conversion. She knew she was being sarcastic ... but this was Chris Reid. Aka Ivan the Illusionist. He could convince anybody of anything.
He kept his eyes on her. “If it means that I got to a point in my life when I had nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to, when I realized my indescribable need for a Lord and Savior ... then yeah, you could say I had a come-to-Jesus moment. But it didn’t end in that moment. I’m a different person, Claire. My whole purpose in life has changed.”
“Uh, you’re still a magician. You’re still deceiving people.”
“I love magic the way you love flowers. But my purpose has changed. What I want to do with my magic shows has changed. I’m not trying to deceive people, not anymore. I want to open their minds to an unseen reality. I want them to know that Jesus saved me. He healed me. He can do it for them.” He sat up in the bean bag and rested his elbows on his knees. “And he can do it for you.”
She wondered at the meaning of all this. Was he for real? Could he have changed that much? Maybe she was still dreaming. She pinched her bottom to find out and swallowed a yelp. Nope. Definitely not dreaming.
He was thoughtful as he looked at her. “Claire, can’t you see how much God loves you? Do you even see how God is at work in your life?”
A scoff burst out of her. “Right. Look at me. Jobless. Soon to be homeless.” She lifted up a hand to stop his preaching. “And I do believe in God.”
“There’s a difference between believing in God and trusting in God. Can you honestly tell me that God wasn’t watching out for you when you landed alone in a new city? When you found a job in a flower shop? When you started winning contest after contest for your arrangements?” He leaned forward. “Culminating in winning Savannah Blooms, the most prestigious award in Georgia?”
How did he know that?
He read her mind. “Google.”
“Well, that and a dollar might buy you a cup of coffee. It doesn’t bring any job offers. I can attest to that.”
“Claire.” His eyes went soft and sweet on her again. “Those contests are recognition of your incredible talent. Something Rose had spotted in you from the day she met you.”
The thought struck her heavily, as hard as a kick to the gut. Chris was hitting in her most vulnerable places. But he wasn’t doing it to hurt her. He was speaking so tenderly, so kind and caring. She looked out the window at Chris’s Ford Mustang. She looked down at the cheap rug on the floor. She did whatever she could to contain herself. She felt as if she was holding back a closet door that was jam-packed. If she dared open it another inch, everything would come tumbling out.
“Look, about Rose. She wants you, Jaime, and Tessa to come to Sunrise. Jaime is back. I’ve found you. We’re trying to find Tessa. Time is of the essence.”
“Why? What’s the hurry?”
He shrugged, but he didn’t hold her gaze. “Rose says she wants to retire.”
“Since Jaime is back and wants the store, maybe Rose should just let her have it.” Claire tried her best to sound nonchalant, unconcerned, but she didn’t mean a word of it. That flower shop was part of her DNA.
“It’s not just about the shop. Rose has something important to tell all of you, and she wants to do it in person.”
“Why don’t you save everybody the trouble and just tell me?”
“Because this part of the story belongs to Rose.”
“Well, there’s really nothing more I need to know about that August night.”
From the look on his face, he didn’t believe her. “I think you do.”
“I was there too. I saw the fire start.”
“We all experience life a little differently. Our brains are different, our world experiences are different.”
“It’s hard to cast doubt on an eyewitness.”
“Oh yeah?” He leaned back and said, “Let me tell you about The Dress Debate of 2015.”
She squinted. “What are you talking about?”
“A Scottish mother took a picture of a dress she was considering for her daughter’s upcoming wedding. She sent the picture to her daughter, and the two of them disagreed about the colors of the dress. So the daughter posted it on Facebook to get feedback from her friends, and it went viral. Crazytown viral. Some people saw it as white and gold, though it was actually blue and black. Finally, scientists figured out that the difference in perception had to do with how the brain perceives color, based on experience. It’s caused a huge stir in the scientific community, lots of studies trying to figure it out. I don’t think they’ve figured it out yet. It’s a perfect illustration of how our experiences shape how we perceive things. That’s the whole point, Claire. Things aren’t always the way they seem to be.”
He waited a while for her to respond, but she didn’t know what to say or how to say it. She felt as stuck as molasses on a January morning.
Chris shifted on the bean bag and pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket. He tossed it to her. “Your wad of savings. Money you left behind at Rose’s house. She’s been wanting you to have it.” He rose to his feet. He was thoughtful as he looked at her. “Go home to Sunrise, okay?”
“I can’t go back,” she said.
“No, you can’t go back. But you can go forward.” He cleared his throat as he walked to the door, almost as if he wanted to say more but choked the words down. He opened the door, then turned around to say, “It’s good to talk to God, Claire.”
She remained on the couch, but as soon as she heard the Mustang roar to life, she felt that old wound start festering. What was wrong with her? What was she trying to prove? She had nothing left. Nothing. No one. She looked around the dumpy little house. Is this how she was going to live the rest of her life? Lonely and alone.
Why couldn’t she swallow her pride and go back to Sunrise? Why not? She had nothing to lose that she hadn’t already lost.
She jumped off the couch and bolted to the door, opening it just as the Mustang drove off. She ran down the steps to try and catch Chris’s attention, but the muffler was too loud. He didn’t hear her calling or see her waving to him. The Mustang turned the corner and disappeared, the sound of a way back to Sunrise fading in the distance.
Slowly, she turned and went back into the house. She felt a shaky chill in her middle that spread throughout her body, despite the Savannah heat. She had just stood at a pivotal fork in the road, a right path and a wrong one, clear as a bell. And with her pride keeping her glued to the couch, she’d chosen the wrong one.