The Miracle Maker and the Misfits E-Book

Dixie Koch

• Herausgeber: RWG Publishing
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

"Abby." She felt his hand gently touching her shoulder. "Mom was murdered."
"Charley!" Abby screamed, shooting off her chair. "Charley, what are you saying?" Her lips were spread thin in panic.
"Abby, I can tell you no more now, except that my father is a very dangerous man. For now we could all be in danger."
After years of separation, Julie had found peace and was excited to come home and be reunited with her crazed son, Charley, and her now grown sister, Abby.
But Julie never made it home.
When the shocking news of Julie's death forced Abby to her sister's burial, all of Abby's dreams laid in that pine box along side of Julie. Their childhood days remained locked up inside of Abby and in the journals Julie had left behind.
But Abby doesn't have much time to grieve, because when the Miracle Maker comes to the rural backwoods of Perjure County, he sets the young Charley free from legions of demons and ushers in a battle between light and darkness. Abby, a writer for the Edge Water Times, is assigned to follow this story, but she has no idea what this story will cost her.
Heart-shocking suspense follows Abby as she uncovers the truth of Julie's death. As a sinister plot develops and controversy explodes, John, an old mysterious hero of yesteryears, steps back into Abby's life. He and his friends are big believers in the Miracle Maker.
But, who is powerful enough to unlock Abby's heart and help her to believe for a miracle? Who cares enough to rewrite hope into the script of her miserable life?
Find out in The Miracle Maker and the Misfits.
 

Leseprobe

Also by Dixie Koch

The Way Maker and the Scarlet Cord: In the Quake of Two Supernatural Collusions

The Miracle Maker and the Misfits: Two Supernatural Kingdoms and the Clashing of Swords

The Way Maker and the Scarlet Cord: In the Quake of Two Supernatural Collusions

Table of Contents

Also By Dixie Koch

The Miracle Maker and the Misfits: Two Supernatural Kingdoms and the Clashing of Swords

79di;-0,6;e-it,

AcLeLoypteth

ktro(Ltio it

CQLX[e.,- at,

Cter Vero-

CQLX[OY KQYOO

Cter Fo-ffr

Cter- Ft.4)

CQLXte,- s,,

Cter Se]e,

CQLX[OY ERPQ[

CQLXt,Y Ai,,,,,

CQLX[e.,- reit,

CQLXt,- EL,V

CQLX[OY K^OT]O

CQLXteY rLtee`[,

Sign up for Dixie Koch's Mailing List

Also By Dixie Koch

About the Publisher

The Miracle Maker and the Mis!ts by Dixie Koch is at once powerful and frightening, engaging, as it offers safety and salvation. Miracles and misfits will linger in your heart and mind long after the final page. It is a book of opposites that lead you in one direction: Damnation vs. salvation, fear vs. safety, terror vs hope, abandonment vs. rescue, surrender vs. despair, with the real message being to rejoice in love, faith and hope. A recommended read that is sure to become a favorite and a best seller.

Billie A Williams Award-Winning Mystery Author

The Miracle Maker and the Mis!ts is a very engaging book about new beginnings and God's healing love. Dixie has an incredible gift of using descriptive language that easily paints the picture in your mind.

Karen Wolner,

Educator

Dixie Koch's The Miracle Maker and the Mis!ts is a work of art that will grab you from the very first word and won't let you go until the very last. Her descriptive writing method paints a picture for you that will draw you in and make you ache for more. It is a novel of apocalyptic proportions which will leave you with the lingering feeling that you may not know everything there is to know. Sure to be a best seller and...my prediction is...it will definitely become a motion picture. Gwen Lewis RN/PHN, Public Health Supervisor

The Miracle Maker and the Misfits is a tale of murder, intrigue, and the supernatural, all tied into one thought provoking novel. This must-read mystery comes with a kingdom message to boot.

Rozanne Rector,

Vice President, PHRI

The Miracle Maker and the Mis!ts is a very timely message about hope for the hopeless and healing for the brokenhearted.

Deb Samuelson,

Crime victim advocate

The Miracle Maker and the Misfits

The Miracle Maker and the Misfits

Copyright C 2017 by Dixie Koch. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version. Copyright C 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked (AMP) are taken from the Amplified Bible, Copyright C 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of Revival Waves of Glory Books & Publishing

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of Revival Waves of Glory Books & Publishing.

Published by Revival Waves of Glory Books & Publishing PO Box 5961 Litchfield, Illinois 62056 USA www.revivalwavesofgloryministries.com

Book design Copyright C 2017 by Revival Waves of Glory Books & Publishing. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Andrea Hallstrom Interior design by Jomel Pepito Artwork by Andrea Hallstrom

Published in the United States of America Paperback: 978-1-365-90860-6

Hardcover: 978-1-365-90861-3

Fiction / Christian / Suspense

Fiction / Suspense

79di;-0,6;e-it,

I

dedicate these pages to my grandchildren: Zach, Andrea, Levi, Josiah, Lydia, Hannah, Moriah, and Asa. Each of you are a precious, loved, and cherished gift from God. Thereby, I have been promoted to praying from a gramma's heart. Daily I see your faces as I whisper your names in prayer. I pray that you will be a part of a new generation of young people who will believe in the Miracle Maker, a group of kids who will defy a lukewarm Christianity and rise like a firestorm to redefine what it means to walk and to love with the heart of Jesus.

In memory of my sister, Mary Lou, and my brother, Bud. I miss you both so much!

Your lives were marked by the love of God! You were truly carriers of His love everywhere you went. I look forward to spending eternity with you, where forever we will celebrate His love.

And to my sister, Janet, and my sister-in-law, Arlene. I cherish every moment we share together down here.

AcLeLoypteth

each

How grateful I am for family! Thanks to

of you, my stories will always be richer

because I have been blessed to be a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, and a grandmother! Thanks for the selfless understanding that the writing of this book would involve lots of time. Losing Mary Lou and Bud during these months have been especially difficult, and you all were there for me. It is with love and appreciation that I say thanks to my husband, Jim; my children Barry (April), Angie (Larry), and Sandie; my grandchildren; my sister, Janet; my sister-in-law, Arlene; and my extended family members.

A special thanks to my very talented granddaughter, Andrea, for the beautiful cover artwork! And, to my son, Barry, I can't thank you enough for all your patience and computer expertise. I couldn't have managed without you.

Thanks to my supervisor, Gwen Lewis (Public Health), for reading my manuscript, endorsing it, and for cheering me on to get it published. Thanks to my

DIXIE Komi

daughter, Sandie, and to my friends Rosie, Karen, Bev, and Deb, for reading, editing, and endorsing this book.

A special thanks to award-winning author, Billie Williams, for all your help, advice, and for endorsing this book.

Thanks to all my friends (too numerous to mention) for all their support and prayers.

Pastor Cory, thank you. I am so grateful God brought me to your ministry. I came hungry, and you fed me some powerful truth. I came in an emotional prison and experienced His healing and deliverance to be real and for today. I felt like a misfit. You taught that God gualifies me. You just wouldn't let me forget who I am in Christ! Many of the treasures I have coined while under your ministry are woven in this novel. Thank you, Pastor, for all your encouragement and wise counsel.

Thanks to the staff at Tate Publishing for providing me with this awesome opportunity to become published. Each person I have spoken with has been professional, kind, and helpful.

Above all, I want to thank Jesus Christ. He gave me this story to write, and He has been my source of inspiration. I write knowing there is not a heart too broken, but He would heal it, and there isn't a sinner too messed up, but He waits and longs to forgive.

ktro(Ltio it

T

here is none so deaf as he who listens to the wrong voices. There is none so bound as he who is chained to lies.

His home was a graveyard. No person could tame or restrain him, for he was very strong. He could pull the outward shackles in pieces with his own bare hands. But the chains that held him to his thoughts, he could not bend.

His is a true story (from Mark 5). He lived where dead people were buried. Day and night he was tormented and cried out in anguish. He bruised and cut himself with stones.

Then a great miracle happened. Someone bigger than the voices of lies stepped into his life. Those chaining him to such emotional misery and shame were commanded to leave by the greatest voice of authority, truth, and power. The demons behind the lying voices were rushed into a herd of swine, causing the pigs to run violently into the sea and drown.

DIXIE Komi

He wasn't the same after that. His mind was healed, and he was free. His address changed. He walked out of that graveyard of darkness and death and into the kingdom of truth and light.

And I wondered why the people asked Jesus to leave the region. Why weren't they happy that this man could now be in the land of the living, healed and free? What would be the reaction if such a miracle happened today? And I heard these words, "Write about it."

So I write because today there are so many hurting people. Haunting voices from abuse, abandonment, and rejections have chased many to a graveyard of despair. Deep inside, where eyes cannot see, people are chained by invisible hands to emotional wounds and to their pasts. I write because it is my prayer that these people would direct their cry for help to the Miracle Maker.

In such brokenness, people are ripe for a miracle. But they must turn to the powerful voice of truth. "And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free" (John 8:32).

CQLX[e.,- at,

my

Put me in that casket too! Put me in there with sister! Let me die there.

The wind howled and slapped a cold hand at Abby's face, chilling her tears to sleet. She felt numb on the outside and raw on the inside.

"We now commit Julie's body back to the dust," the reverend droned on.

His words ignited a mental bomb, which exploded in Abby's mind. Like everyone else' you thought Julie was a mis fit' a hopeless kid. All she needed was a place to fit. Now she fits in a pine box!

A handful of people from the church, like a football team in a huddle, stood braving the weather. But Abby stood alone like a young sapling unbending in the wind.

"Amen."

She hadn't heard the prayer.

Church was just a place Abby occasionally attended. As tiny children, she and Julie had been happy to be a part of Sunday school here at the God's Love Fellowship Church. An elderly neighbor couple had

DIXIE Komi

faithfully picked them up and brought them Sunday after Sunday.

They had been little girls looking for love. They had hoped God might be in the church somewhere. Maybe there He could give someone special eyes to see, special ears to hear, or special arms to hold them. So they came, listened, and watched, and waited. They looked into so many eyes, like the store windows in a busy plaza, but the eyes did not seem to see them back.

Abby pulled her hood's drawstring snugger to her face. Her steps were guick in the cold. As she opened the church door, childhood pain, like dirty bug smears on a windshield, still stained her soul. She no longer had a listening ear. Abby didn't want to hear cotton-candy words inflated with air, such as, "I'm so sorry for your loss. Such a tragedy." Nor did she care to hear something dreadful like, "It must be God's will." Was it God's will that she and Julie were physically and sexually abused as little girls? Why didn't God cause them to be born into a home where there was love instead of violence? Why did He let Julie tragically die now? Of all times' why now? We could have had a chance together now. We could have had the chance life never gave us as children.

Abby yanked off her wet cap and slipped out of her jacket. She wasn't hungry and walked past the sandwiches and chips. All she wanted was something hot to touch and to drink. Her fingers laced around a warm Styrofoam cup like a child latching onto candy. Abby didn't look around her. She didn't care to be acknowledged or to acknowledge anyone. She moved

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

to the way back table and sunk into the chair still holding tight to the coffee cup.

Tears were waiting. Until today, tears had been a stranger to Abby. She had built a cement wall somewhere inside of herself. She had become tougher than tears. Still, at this very moment, she realized that Julie was all the love she had known. Julie had been her sister-parent. Julie was finally coming home. This was to be a birth of love and hope. Instead it was stillborn.

Abby sat up straighter and took a sip of her coffee. More tears were not welcome.

"Abby?" a warm voice asked.

"Yes?" Abby looked up into the large and moist eyes of a familiar face.

"Maybe you don't remember me, honey. I'm Mable. I was your foster mom a long time ago." The rounded, cheeky-faced lady relaxed as an understanding smile pushed wrinkles to each side. "Oh, it was when you were just eight years old."

"I do remember now." Abby's heavy eye lids raised slowly. "Yes. You were very kind to me, and I didn't want to leave you."

Mable pulled a Kleenex from her handbag and dabbed her eyes with it. "It broke my heart when they put you and Julie back with your folks." She took a sip of coffee, and her eyes searched into Abby's.

"Yes, and just several months after that, we were removed permanently from our home. I was nine. Julie was fifteen."

"I was in the process of moving to Chicago at that time, or I would have begged to have you girls again.

DIXIE Komi

My mom was very ill, and I thought I needed to be there for her. I had asked if I could adopt both of you, but I didn't hear back from the county."

"It was our loss, Mable." Abby's hands clasped more tightly around the cup.

"Were the new foster parents good to you?" Mable whispered.

"Julie was eight months pregnant when we arrived in the next home. She was very angry and hurt."

"I see." Mable reached across the table to sgueeze Abby's fingers. "I can understand. It's hard to trust strangers when those you should be able to trust hurt you."

"You're right, Mable. I think my truster is broken." Abby's words were fading.

"Anyway, Abby, I have just moved back to this area. My mom passed on, and it was getting lonely in Chicago. I have family here. So it seemed right to come back. And then I picked up the paper and read about your sister's tragic accident. I'm so sorry." Mable's voice was genuine.

"She was on her way back. I hadn't seen her for so long. Julie had begun to call me more. She sounded changed." Abby looked up into Mable's eyes for courage to say more. "She said she had found joy and peace. She said she had found a reason to live. She was on her way home to me. We were going to be a family again and this time find happiness." Abby choked on her words. "She had not planned to come home for her funeral. It is like a bad dream, a cruel joke."

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

"What about you, Abby?" Mable asked. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"I don't think so. I need to be by myself. I've just got so much to think through."

Mable dug into her purse and pulled out a pen and paper. "Let me write down my number. Know you are welcome to call anytime. If you need a place to get away, my door will always be open to you."

Mable's hands were a little shaky. Abby guessed Mable to be in her early eighties.

"What happened to Julie's baby?" Mable asked as she handed the paper to Abby.

"That's a story in itself. Charley was taken away from Julie when he was born." Abby smashed the Styrofoam cup between her hands. "He lived in three different foster homes until he was placed in a juvenile boy's home. From there he was sent to various group homes that housed emotionally disturbed and mentally ill youth."

Mable shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Finally"—Abby winced—"about three years ago, he was placed at the Wilderness Group Home out in Perjure County. Charley is there because he rips off his clothes and runs wild. He doesn't talk. Still, no amount of therapy has been able to tame him."

Mable's eyes widened in unbelief. "Oh, my dear." The silver-haired woman stood. Before she left, she placed a kiss on Abby's cheek. "I care, Abby. Please do me a favor and come visit me soon. Would you do that for me, honey?"

DIXIE Komi

Abby stared back, her eyes wide. Warm. You make me feel warm. I've been so cold and scared.

"Abby?" Mable's hand cupped Abby's chin. "Please come and see me."

"I will, Mable."

"Good." Mable's sweet, droopy cheeks entertained ripples of wrinkles with one tender smile.

Abby watched Mable walk slowly out the door. Then her eyes scanned the room. Several folk were collecting their plates and napkins and returning them to the kitchen. Some turned to nod or smile at Abby as she stood to leave. Before she made it to the exit, Reverend Staunch moved his lanky, tall form forward to shake her hand and bid her well.

"It is a pity about your sister, Abby. Please accept my sympathy."

"Yes, thank you, Reverend."

"I don't suppose Charley would understand. Well," Reverend Staunch stammered, "Julie never kept in contact with him anyway, so it probably doesn't change anything. I guess I was wondering if you would be telling him about his mother's passing."

"First of all, Reverend, Julie didn't give Charley up." Abby's eyes flashed with fury. "He was taken from her. I know she cared for him. She would have been a good mother. And don't you worry. I will go and tell him. I'll tell him that his mom was coming home to be with him again. I'll tell him that Julie loved him and never wanted to give him up."

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

Abby didn't mind that the reverend's eyes were flinging burning darts back to her. She turned and with a click of her heels left the church.

In the corner of her small apartment sat the pile of whatever had been valuable enough for Julie to want to bring home. Just three nights ago the police brought it to her doorstep along with the unwanted news. She would never forget the two officers standing there that night. The younger one handed her the luggage. The older one had said, "I'm sorry, Abby, but there has been a terrible accident. Your sister, Julie Frank, was killed." All Abby had learned was that the roads were very slippery. It had appeared as though Julie had dodged another vehicle and had crashed into a tree, dying instantly. Someone, possibly the driver of the other car, had called 911.

Abby had not been able to open the bags and suitcases containing Julie's belongings. Now with the funeral over and the need for some kind of closure, she needed at least to look. I am unbelievably lonely for you' Julie. Our recent phone calls brought you back. It has made you alive in my heart. I can't believe that hope has ended. I had begun to hope again.

The large suitcase was too heavy for clothes. When she opened it, Abby was surprised to find dozens of notebooks. As she paged through them, she was not surprised any longer. You and I were always alike this way' Julie. Our lives have been a story that we could not

DIXIE Komi

tell others. We had only hoped people would read us kindly. Abby pulled a notebook close to her heart. I am so thankful for these. You have left me all that you felt and all that you hopedfor. I will read them' and I will cherish them. I will keep them for you. I can't let you not live on in my heart. These notes will help. I love you' Julie!

Cter Vero-

A

bby tucked the comforter around her body, sinking into it as though it were someone with tender arms coming to rescue her at last. The lonely guiet was like a heavy fog settling in over her. The stillness was as black as it was thick. She gagged on it. Then there were movements, like dark fish below the water surface, happening in the midnight of her room. Her heart began thundering beats of fear. The bolts shot through her, stinging into every extremity. Each ripple caused her toes and fingers to prickle.

They're back. The unwanted visitors, familiar entities were back. Like corrupt landlords greedy to collect, they stalked where there was no light of escape. They cried out, "We own you." Since childhood, they had threatened and harassed. Abby's body trembled remembering how she had clung to Julie, so terrified by the invaders. These mysterious forms...these voices... had brought fear of every imaginable kind. Abby would bury her face in Julie's chest. She would listen to her sister's heart thrashing inside of a body stiffened by fear.

DIXIE Kocki

Abby had never dared to tell anyone. Now they came again. Abby felt them. Sinister fingers were tightening around her throat and constricting until she fell into a lifeless trance. Her thoughts once again began to reel. She was spinning out of control on black ice.

So where is this God Julie sought? He isn't here' is He? His games are cruel. He leaves you alone and hopeless. There is no hope' Abby. Why do you struggle to find hope? He has taken everything away from you. He took your sister. He took your hope. The only family you have now' Abby' is a crazy nephew. You are crazy' too. How long can you pretend you are normal? You are a fool' pretending to belong somewhere. You should join Julie. You have nothing to livefor.

Abby was exhausted when her eyes opened again. She sprung from her bed and shivered as her feet hit the cold floor. Abby glanced out the window as she grabbed for a sweater and slipped her feet into the slippers by her bed. "Blasted winter again! Flying snow! It's supposed to be April first today. Well, happy April Fool's Day."

Once downstairs Abby flicked the "on" switch of her coffee maker and waited to hear the first sound of percolating. Julie will never come home. Coffee was spitting into the pot. Abby's hand reached for a cup.

A shrill ring from her cell phone, and the cup twirled toward the floor, where it shattered in several sharp, plastic pieces.

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

"Who could be calling this early in the morning?" She found her phone under yesterday's newspaper. "Hi, Ab."

"Phillip,11

vv....2.es going on? It's Saturday. I don't work today."

"You're going to want to work today, Ab. I've got an urgent front-page story for you. There's no time for dilly-dallying around. You better bust your butt getting over to Mr. Shafers's farm now!"

"This better be good, Phillip. It's snowing and blowing and cold out there. And"—grief, like a festering sore, found its way to her tongue—"they just buried my sister."

"I'm sorry about that, Ab. I really am. But this is the chance of your lifetime. Get this story and your career as a journalist is set!"

Abby shivered as she tracked through the new spread of snow. The crust under it grated and snapped with each plunk of her boots. Under it all was still the cold brown earth not yet brave enough to think of sending out shoots of green. March had gone out like a lion, and April was still her frozen cub.

Abby could picture Phillip's jaw jutting out and his gray eyes growing into steel. He had been fired from the police force a couple years ago. She believed his story. The drunken attorney was guilty of manslaughter. Phillip had been honest and bold enough to say so. But it had cost him his job.

In Abby's opinion, Phillip was a good and decent man. She liked that about him. After he bought out the Edge Water Times, he had hired her to write for

DIXIE Komi

the paper. All she had to show him were a few pieces of prose she had written in her journal. He had said, "These are incredible. Yes, you have a job with me for as long as you desire." That day the sun muscled its way into Abby's dismal and none-too-promising world. She was very grateful to Phillip and had worked hard ever since not to disappoint her boss. Today would not be an exception.

Abby dreaded the drive to Jasper Schafer's place. Guilt clawed at her soul. It was the road to the Wilderness Group Home, where Charley lived, which bordered Jasper's farm.

Abby hadn't been out to see Charley for months. She had been too busy trying to pursue a career in writing. Phillip believed in her, thought she could write, and that provided a sliver of self-esteem, a prayer that someday she could make it as an accomplished journalist. Now Phillip sounded very excited. Was her career as a journalist about to become big? She could make it a point to stop and see Charley later. He didn't seem to know her anyway. But was she letting Julie down? Julie had loved Charley and had asked Abby to take care of him. Could Charley possibly understand love or the lack of it? Was he as miserable as she was? Could one so mentally handicapped as Charley even understand that Julie loved him or that Julie was tragically killed? Was Charley able to be offended that for these past

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

many months his aunt Abby had abandoned him in chase of something to live for?

Young, willowy poplar trees bent spitefully toward the glare of headlights reflecting off the snow as Abby drove down the long stretch of back roads. No thanks to the nasty weather and messy driving conditions, the drive was more distressing.

She wasn't relieved to see the jagged etches of light from the group home shooting across the depressed-looking, snow-covered grounds. In the early fog of dawn, they looked like eerie fingers pointing into her soul.

"What the—?" Abby blurted out. In the short distance away, flashing lights from everywhere fractured the craggy attempts of daybreak. Fire trucks, an ambulance or two, and it looked like the whole highway department surrounded and filled the Schafer residence. Large eguipment made it nearly impossible for her to sgueeze her car close to the troubled farm site. "Maybe Phillip is right. Maybe this will be the cover story I need. This looks big. Really big."

Bodies were rushing everywhere, skirting through the lifting darkness. Abby grabbed her camera and hurried to join the interested parties. Heavy gray clouds were spewing out a fine icy mist, and people, dismal under the cloudy curse, were yelling, shouting orders, scurrying so. The whole place was in a state of panic.

Abby blew out a confused and frosty breath of her own, pulled her parka tight, and with a curl of her lip moved toward the mess. She guessed most of the action was headed toward the river.

DIXIE Komi

Ropes were attached to heavy eguipment. Cranes stretched their strong iron necks over and down to the problem area, and from her view, it appeared as though they were removing large-bodied things. "Did a whole part of the country fall in the river, or what?" Abby tried to ignore the intense spasm threatening to shut off her airway.

"Those are cows!" Phillip's answer was like a paddle filled with electric shock attempting to jolt her senses to some form of normal.

"Cows?" She turned to him, her eyes wide with confusion and fright.

"Yes, cows," he said, a half smile cocked victoriously on his face. He reached for her hand and dragged her through the mob of people to a place where she could get a better view.

"Cows?" Abby's tongue felt thick. "They are all bloated and so still. Are they dead?"

"Yep, drowned pregnant cows," Phillip said, shifting his weight to the opposite leg. "And lots of them."

"They are pregnant?" Abby's legs suddenly felt rubbery. "But why? What could possibly possess a herd of heavy, pregnant cows to rush to their deaths in a river covered with thin ice?"

"I am not sure at this moment, but be very sure, I will find out."

"Oh, I know, Phillip. You will figure it out. I know you will."

"Hey, girl. You are going to get the story before the big papers pick up on it." He smiled back at her. "I'm sure that stack of bloated heifers would be a perfect

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

snapshot to validate the facts. It's bound to hit the front page for you."

Abby's eyes were like bulbs pushing from their orbits. She walked through the piles of bovine devastation. "Unbelievable!" She began snapping pictures and trying to control the retching feeling that was pulling at her gut.

Eguipment operators were pulling out fewer beef now, and many of the waders were stepping out of the river straddled with ice chunks. Abby snapped a picture of a rescuer stepping out of his wet suit as someone wrapped a warm blanket around the man.

Abby recognized Jasper Schafer waving his arms and shouting to a group of uniformed officers. She moved in for a scoop on the event.

"I'm telling you," the distraught Jasper bawled out, "I saw him out in the fields just the other day, naked and streaking as usual. Then about two this morning the dogs were barking, and I got up. That's when I saw it with my own eyes. There was nothing I could do to stop the cattle. They were mad, crazy, running and plunging through the ice. That's when I called for help. I drove down my driveway to see what might have caused such a ruckus, and then I saw him again. There he was lifting up his hands and dancing. There was some older man standing next to him. I couldn't tell in the dark who it was. But the kid was definitely Charley. It was him all right."

"Charley!" Abby gasped. "He wouldn't have any reason to harm your cows. He's just simple."

All heads turned toward her.

DIXIE Komi

"You sticking up for him?" Jasper's voice threatened. "Hey," he continued, taking a step toward her and pointing an accusing finger into her chest, "aren't you related to that kid?"

"Look," she answered, her heart pounding against her chest, "I'm sure there is a logical explanation to all of this."

Phillip stepped up, hulking over the angry, red-faced Jasper and asked, "You said the kid was dancing in the middle of the night, not streaking?"

"That's correct," Jasper snarled back. "No doubt he was celebrating his evil accomplishment."

"Doesn't this kid ever sleep? Have you ever seen him dance in the night before?" Phillip guestioned.

"I'm not his babysitter! I don't stay up all hours of the night watching his crazy stunts. But I see him streaking about in the daylight hours. Don't matter if it's cold or hot, he runs naked in all kinds of weather."

"Was he naked and streaking last night when you saw him?"

"No! I told you, Charley was dancing. He was lifting his arms in the air and waving them about wildly."

"And was he naked?" Phillip repeated the guestion.

Jasper scratched through a growth of red whiskers. "No, come to think of it. He was dressed. Even had a coat on. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Has Charley ever been a threat to your herd of beef in the past?" Phillip sguared his shoulders and continued to drill for answers.

"He's probably been planning this for years," the older man shot back, pressing his lips thin.

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

Abby caught the menacing sguint of Jasper's weaseled eyes.

"You saying he has the capability to plan something this sophisticated?" Phillip's back stiffened. "It seems hard to believe that one person, especially someone like Charley, could be such a strategist. It would be guite a remarkable accomplishment for a posse of rustlers to get a herd of pregnant beef to leave their hay and shelter in the sort of weather we had last night. This was something big, Jasper."

"You calling me a liar? That kid is behind it. I don't know how, but mark my words, he had something to do with it. And," Jasper rasped, "you better find out the how and why of it all. Because of Charley, I've lost everything. Those cattle were my livelihood."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Jasper. I will find out all the details. You can count on that. But for now, I'm just doing my job, asking guestions."

Abby was amazed at the investigative abilities Phillip possessed. He was the owner and editor of a newspaper. That was his job. But he would take this a few steps further. He would present facts and evidence, no matter how long it took to get the job done.

"I'll keep you to your word," Jasper exclaimed with a harrumph.

"For now I'm going to have a look around the barn. I'll need a sample of the hay. We can't rule out toxins of some kind."

Bizarre' crazy old man! Abby watched as Jasper stomped off in a huff of energy. She walked off to snap a few more pictures. Charley! I've got to get there first!

DIXIE Komi

Guilt snapped her like a green bean between its fingers. She should have been there for Charley all along. He didn't even know his mother was dead. How would she handle all of this at one time?

Dazed, Abby tried to shake off the hounding guilt and regain some composure. The situation was grave, and she needed to be in charge for now.

"Okay, you can do this," she breathed out a promise to herself. "This is going to be hard." Abby groaned as she stopped to knead the back of her neck. "He can't process anything. He doesn't talk. He isn't going to have a clue of what is going on, much less care about a herd of bloated, drowned cattle. All I know is I need to get the missing puzzle piece first and get it in black and white before someone else makes a real mess out of things." She blew out a determined breath as her eyes focused on Phillip, who was poking around in a hay pile. Abby knew he was good at what he did. He could find a needle in a haystack. This gave her some comfort for now.

A few threads of sun were pushing through the gray and announcing that it was indeed morning now. Jasper's rooster was crowing as though it was just another day. But a lot of people, including herself, knew there was nothing usual about today. It was like a bad dream. Her car tires spun in the slush beneath them as Abby backed her car and then attempted to drive out of Jasper's long driveway. She was both tired and hungry, but all of that would wait. Abby was on a

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

mission. She needed to protect Charley from all this unwanted publicity.

The group home was busy with morning activity. A kitchen worker was pushing a cart loaded with breakfast trays. At first the food smelled heavenly to Abby; then she eyed it as it rolled by. What is that? What kind ofslop do theyfeed these people?

People sat humped over in their chairs with blank stares on their faces; others were talking to themselves. She watched as one unshaven man spooned his runny eggs and directed them toward his mouth. More of the yellow contents slimed down his bushy face than what was swallowed. Abby made her way to the information desk. A gray-haired woman with rim glasses hanging loosely on her nose looked above them at Abby.

"Could you direct me to where Charley Frank might be?"

The woman raised her eyebrows as an amused expression tightened the wrinkles under her eyes. "Have you checked his room? He's probably in there praying."

"Praying? Charley doesn't pray. I said Charley Frank. Where would he be?" Abby's voice shot back at the woman still wearing a mask of surprise.

"Oh, I see. You haven't heard the news yet."

"Haven't heard what?"Abby sgueaked in exasperation.

"Go see for yourself. He's not the same person he used to be. It's a miracle straight from God because there's no other explanation." The woman narrowed her

DIXIE Komi

eyes and zeroed in for a closer look at Abby. "You a relative? I've seen you around here before."

"Yes, and thank you," Abby sheared any explanation and turned to go.

Even the help here is crazy. Go figure.

Charley's room would have to be on the third floor, Abby thought as she inched her weary body up another flight of stairs. Her camera dangled about her neck, but would she dare snap a picture of him? At this point, anything could be used as evidence against Charley. Or against me. She had to be careful. Really careful.

Charley's door was open. Abby stepped in unprepared for what she saw. A young man, who somewhat resembled the Charley she knew, stepped toward her. His face was radiant, and his smile big. He stood before her now, normal. "Charley?"

"Good to see you,AuntAbby!"he answered articulately. "Charley! You're talking?" Abby's heart was drumming.

"Yes, I am." He reached for Abby and pulled her into his arms. "Yes, I am," he repeated.

Charley wasn't the young kid any longer who had been torn from his mom as a babe, tossed about from one home to another like a spoiled hot potato, and finally marked as totally insane and shipped to a haunted looking, three-story building filled with castaways. Nor was he any longer a sixteen-year-old wild man who wouldn't keep his clothes on. Staff had been unable to keep him dressed. Though generally cooperative, when Charley had decided to tear off his clothes, even a group of workers could not prevent

THE MIRACLE MAKER AND THE MISFITS

it. He was too strong. Abby had been informed that Charley at times possessed unexplainable strength. Even if they had been able to restrain Charley, which they had not been able to do, new laws made it tough to use any drastic measures on him, unless he was a danger to himself or to others. But Charley had never been violent, just crazy. Doctors had ordered many forms of psychotropic medications, but nothing seemed to stop Charley from ripping off his clothing and zipping out of the building. That's why he was moved to this country group home. That's why she had hated to visit. It had been most embarrassing.

But Charley wasn't so vulnerable and embarrassing now. His clothes were on, and he seemed perfectly happy about that. Is this real?

Charley released her from his embrace. "You look great! Your hair has really gotten long. I like it that way, long and wavy red."

"Wait a minute." Abby gulped. "You remember? I mean you didn't even seem to know me the last time I visited, and you haven't talked since you were very tiny." Abby's mouth hinged open.

Charley smiled. "I've been healed. I've been totally set free."

"But, I had no idea they had discovered such a wonder drug. Or is there some new shock therapy?"

"No, Abby, there is no miracle drug or therapy that could have changed me. It was Him."

"Him?" She felt her heart galloping up into her throat.

DIXIE Komi

"It was Jesus who set me free." Charley was smiling again, and his smile was warm. His eyes sparkled. His light rust-colored hair was combed soft and his face shaved clean. He just looked fine, almost like he came from a place untouched by anything but beauty.

"Let me tell you all about it." His voice reached into her heart.

"I think I need to sit down first," Abby said, wiping beads of perspiration from her forehead. "This is just so unbelievable. I'm wondering if I'm dreaming after all."