Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
A va lay on her back, floating in the lake, the stars shimmering above her. The wind blew in, and on it was a message: You’re not done yet.
Then, suddenly, the force that had kept her afloat sucked her under the water, and she sat up in her bed, gasping, her torso aching with the movement. She grabbed her side and winced.
It took her a second to orient herself to the dark guest room in her mom’s cabin.
For a minute, she’d thought she was back in the void—except she’d felt a presence when she was there and, here, she was definitely alone.
Beads of sweat sat on her forehead, and she was breathing as if she’d run a marathon.
She’d heard the same voice as before. God’s voice?
But she’d just been dreaming this time. She wasn’t on a hospital gurney. Her heart had been beating the whole time. She told herself, again, that it had only been a dream. Right?
Ava swallowed and waited until her breathing became more normal. With a yawn, she checked the time on her phone: 3:12 a.m.
Her mouth was bone dry, so she pushed the blankets off her legs and got out of bed. She padded into the kitchen, pulled down a glass, and filled it with water.
You’re not done yet , tickled her ear, startling her.
She fumbled the glass, dropping it into the sink, and quickly grabbed it to keep it from rolling around and waking her mother.
This time, she’d heard the voice while she was awake.
And the same voice from her experience. Had this episode only been her imagination, an extension of the dream in her groggy state?
Frustration took over. She’d done what was asked of her—she’d found Lucas Phillips.
She was given no stipulations as to what to do once she found him or how to live out the rest of her life, as the voice had said she could do.
So could she assume that the remainder of her life was up to her?
What could “ You’re not done yet ” mean? Not done yet with what ?
There was still the possibility that the accident had impacted her brain, and the voice wasn’t real, no matter how many coincidences happened.
She wondered again about the source of the voice.
Did the voice belong to God if her dad wasn’t there to vouch for it?
Was it God at all? Or something sinister?
Her father went to church. He impressed upon her how Jesus had died for their sins. Surely he’d been let into heaven and would’ve been there.
But in her inability to understand what she’d been through, she kept coming back to the love she’d felt in the darkness. That indescribable love was most definitely God’s.
The experience was too heavy a concept to consider, however, at this time of the morning.
Not entirely sure she was cognitively okay, now, Ava was glad she had an appointment for the rest of her testing.
Should she tell Lucas about the voice? She should probably tell him about all of it and let him make a decision as to her sanity.
Ultimately, she trusted him. But a tiny part of her was afraid he wouldn’t believe her either.
She tiptoed into the office and sat down at her mother’s computer.
She did a search for hearing voices . She clicked on the first of the results—“The Top Reasons People Hear Voices”—and read it.
The first reason explained that a very high temperature can cause a person to hear voices, and as she wasn’t sick, she read on.
The second reason caught her attention: Some people can hear voices as they’re falling asleep or waking up due to their brain entering or emerging from a sleep state .
That would make sense, except that she’d heard the voice again at the kitchen sink.
She read on.
Drugs, stress, abuse … None of those seemed to hit the mark.
Then she landed on number seven: traumatic experiences.
People who have been through traumatic experiences might develop post-traumatic-stress disorders and can experience hearing voices .
Had the accident caused PTSD? That might be worth mentioning tomorrow.
But before she closed the article, she noticed number ten on the list: spiritual experiences.
Some people experience voices they believe to be from God.
This is an unexplained phenomenon. They usually provide comfort during a stressful situation, a warning, or guidance .
She’d been given a choice to live or not, under a condition. What would that be—comfort, warning, or guidance? It didn’t seem to really fit any. But if the voice she heard was as real as she believed it to be, then what would the earthly author of this article even know about that?
Too tired to ponder the reasons any further, she went back into her room and tried to get a few more hours of sleep before morning.
When the sunlight finally filtered through her window, Ava didn’t feel any more rested.
She’d tossed and turned the whole time, her conversation with Lucas rolling around in her mind.
She’d overanalyzed their interactions to the point that she couldn’t even remember why she’d started trying in the first place.
With a yawn, she got out of bed and went into the kitchen. There were no signs that her mother was up yet, so Ava made herself a piece of toast with strawberry jam and went into the office. Work might get her mind off everything else.
She took a bite of toast and logged in to her email.
She had a new message from McGregor’s principal, Robert Clive.
These days, Robert didn’t send her personal messages.
The heading said simply: Partnership . Well, a promotion certainly would be an antidote to everything she’d been through, wouldn’t it?
Maybe this was the moment she’d been waiting for. This could be the reason the voice said she wasn’t done. She’d achieved her end of the heavenly bargain and, now, she had partner shoes to fill—the rest of her life.
She took another crispy nibble and clicked on the message. As Ava scanned the email, her chewing slowed, the bite of toast filling her mouth like cement.
Hello Ava,
I hope this message finds you well.
You know how much we trust your ability to lead.
I’ve been your biggest cheerleader. After careful consideration, however, we’ve decided that Scott Strobel should move forward as partner.
This decision was challenging given both yours and Scott’s high work ethic and impressive skills.
Our choice is in no way related to your absence.
Please know that we will continue to support your healing and welcome you back to McGregor Creative with open arms upon your return.
We remain highly impressed with your dedication and commitment to the firm.
Wishing you a speedy recovery.
Best wishes,
Robert
The words blurred in front of her. She banged her fist on the table, rattling the laptop and her plate of toast.
“Unbelievable,” she snapped to no one.
Scott Strobel had stolen her promotion.
She sat there, stewing, tears brimming. Could she have at least been able to get a decent night’s sleep before getting hit with this bomb?
Robert had said the decision wasn’t because of her absence, but had she been there to close the Coleman deal, she could almost bet the outcome would’ve been different.
She’d been building up to this position for years.
Everything she’d worked for—all the long hours, her broken marriage, the fact that she’d given her entire life to the pursuit of that position—evaporated in one email. Now, what was she supposed to do?
Her pursuit of the partnership had given her purpose.
She’d have to work decades at another company to build enough trust to get that kind of offer.
She’d thrived on the competition, and the opportunity to demonstrate how hard she could work for something.
She’d often thought she could prove herself by being the one who put in the time when no one else would, who worked until midnight and then was at it again by 5 a.m. She’d shown just how much she wanted it, and she’d believed that, coupled with her incredible creativity, would certainly win her the position.
But instead, she’d fallen off their radar entirely.
Ava cursed the driver of the other car. Where had he needed to go that cost her an entire career? And now look at both of them. As far as she knew, he was still clinging to life, and she’d lost everything.
Her dream came back to her: You’re not done yet . But, apparently, she was.
She’d chosen to come back to fulfill this part of her life, so what was the greater purpose in this big promise she’d made?
Even though she felt she had more work to do when it came to Lucas, she’d held up her end of the bargain.
She’d found him, just as she’d been told to do.
How was she supposed to live out the rest of her life now?
She logged off, bit back more tears, picked up her plate of toast, and went into the kitchen.
“You look like a storm cloud,” her mother said, standing in her flannel nightgown and lumping her latest quilting project on the counter.
Ava dumped the toast into the trash and put her plate in the sink. “I got some bad news from work.”
“Oh?”
“I didn’t get the partner position.”
Ava’s mom gave her an empathetic frown. “I’m sorry, honey.”
Her mother didn’t understand. She’d never had the kind of ambition Ava had.
The drive was part of Ava. Without it, she couldn’t function.
She’d spent years building connections and going above and beyond to even be in the running for partner.
And then, once she’d achieved it, her strategic leadership would have motivated her and moved the company forward.
Her vision and long-term goals would have stimulated the team, and her ability for expansion would have only been hindered by her own parameters. If she had gotten the promotion.