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Authors: Karen Kingsbury

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A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace

BOOK: A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace
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The Women of Faith Fiction Club presents

A Time to Dance

A Time to Embrace

K
AREN
K
INGSBURY

A Time to Dance
© 2001 Karen Kingsbury
A Time to Embrace
© 2002 Karen Kingsbury

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, Colorado 80920.

Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

Scripture quotations used in this book are from the Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV). © 1973, 1978, 1984, International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.

ISBN 978-1-59554-521-3

Printed in the United States of America
08 09 10 11 12 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

A Time to Dance

Contents

Dedicated to

Acknowledgments

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Author’s Note

Reading group guide

Dedicated to

Donald, my lover and playmate and best friend of all. With you, all of life is a dance and I can only pray the music continues for all time. Thank you for stating early on that the
d
word would not be part of our vocabulary. And thanks for modeling in Christ what it means to truly love.

Kelsey, my sweet girl, who stands on the brink of those tough and tender teenage years. Already you are old enough to understand love, to know that you’re a one-in-a-million catch and to believe no one will ever love you like your daddy or your heavenly Father. You once said you wouldn’t marry a boy unless he was like your daddy. Keep that, honey; believe me, your standard couldn’t possibly be any higher than that.

Tyler, my dreamer and doer, who wants so much from life and whom God has chosen for great and mighty things. I will hear your voice singing to me on faraway nights when my hair is gray and our family days are but a memory. Thank you, buddy, for always making me smile.

Austin, my boy of boundless energy, better known as Michael Jordan. You defy man’s wisdom each day by merely breathing. You grace our home with constant dribbling and shooting and slam-dunking, sounds that have almost made me forget those hospital machines in intensive care. Almost, but not quite. And each time your arms come around my neck, I thank God for the miracle of your life.

E.J. and Sean, our chosen sons, who have brought us all together in a common cause, a common love. Thank you for defining our family’s eternal perspective and for giving us reason to celebrate God’s plan. Remember, dear sons, although you did not grow under my heart you most certainly grew in it. I look forward to all that God has planned for you.

And to God Almighty,
Who has, for now, blessed me with these.

Acknowledgments

The dream of writing a book that might show love—marital love—for the glorious thing that God has intended it to be, was inspired in my heart long ago and given wings here, by the grace of our Lord. Still, it would not have been possible to write this book without the help of many people. First and foremost I’d like to thank the Women of Faith organization: everyone from Steve Arterburn to Mary Graham and all the wonderful WOF friends I’ve had the privilege to meet in the process of pulling this project together. What a great idea—a line of fiction for all women everywhere . . . fiction that will entertain and change lives, encourage love and inspire hope. Bravo, for giving readers an option! Also to my fellow WOF fictionettes for being excited alongside me and for helping make this and the next three books in the WOF Fiction Club a reading experience like none other.

Professionally, a special thanks to Greg Johnson who is brimming with ideas and without a doubt the world’s best agent. Greg, your enthusiasm and creativity, energy and devotion to God are a constant testimony to me. You inspire me to new heights, and I’m blessed and honored to be among those writers in your care.

Also to my editor, Karen Ball, who has been with me along the entire fiction journey and who makes my work sing. God has gifted you, friend, and I am grateful to benefit from the fact. Also to Ami McConnell, Mark Sweeney, and all the wonderful folks at Word Publishing. I’m honored to be writing for you now and in the future.

Thanks, too, go to Joan Westfall for doing a read-through of this book at the last minute. You are an amazing person, Joan—always encouraging others, looking for the good, and taking the time to catch even the smallest detail in this book so that it will be that much more professional. I treasure you more than you know.

And finally, on a personal note, a special thanks to Kristy and Jeff Blake for loving my precious Austin through the process of writing . . . and to Sorena Wagner for being the most amazing nanny anyone could have. You are wonderful and I am blessed for knowing you. Also to my true friends and self-appointed publicity crew Christine Wessel, Heidi Cleary, Joan Westfall, Jan Adams, Michelle Stokes, and Debbie Kimsie . . . Thank you for being excited about the stories I tell and for bringing me such encouragement. God has used you more than you know.

A humble thanks also goes to my prayer warriors Sylvia and Ann. The two of you are the most selfless, amazing servants—listening to Christ’s call and lifting me and my work to His throne room daily. I don’t deserve you, but I am grateful all the same. You won’t know this side of heaven how much your constant intervention and love for me has affected the lives of our readers.

Always a special thanks goes to my family for their love and support and for understanding when dinner is macaroni and cheese three nights running. And to my parents, Ted and Anne Kingsbury, and siblings, Susan, Tricia, David, and Lynne, for your love and support. Also to Shannon Kane, one of my best and most faithful readers and certainly one of my favorite nieces. One day I’ll be reading your work, honey!

Finally, a special thanks to the readers who have taken the time to write me over the years. I remember each of you and pray for you often. And to the Skyview basketball team for always giving me something to cheer about—even on deadline.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity
under heaven: . . . a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to
mourn and a time to dance.


E
CCLESIASTE
S 3:1,4

One

W
ITHOUT QUESTION, IT WAS THE MOMENT ABBY
Reynolds had waited for all her life.

Beneath the Friday-night lights in the biggest college stadium in the state of Illinois, Abby’s husband was on the brink of winning his second high-school football championship. Moreover he was about to do so largely on the talents of their older son, the team’s senior quarterback. Abby pulled her blue-and-gray Marion Eagles jacket tighter to her body and wished she’d brought a thicker scarf. It was early December, after all, and though snow hadn’t fallen for more than a week, the air was biting cold. “Football weather,” John always said. Cold and dry, straight from heaven. She stared beyond the lights to the starry sky.
Even God is rooting for you tonight, John.

Her gaze fell across the field, and she picked out her husband on the sidelines, headset angled just so, body bent over, hands on his knees as he waited for the play to unfold. She could remember a million afternoons when his eyes had sparkled with laughter, but here, now, they were hard and focused. His face was the picture of concentration, lined with the intensity of the moment as he barked commands in a dozen directions. Even from her place high up in the packed stands, Abby could feel the energy that emanated from John in the final minutes of this, his most prized football game.

No doubt about it, coaching was his gift.

And this was his finest hour.

If only everything else hadn’t gotten so—

“Come on, Eagles. You can do it!” Abby’s daughter, Nicole, clapped her hands and gritted her teeth, holding tighter to her boyfriend, Matt’s, hand, every ounce of her energy focused on her younger brother.

Tears nipped at Abby’s eyes, and she blinked them back.
If only I
could freeze time, here and now . . .
She turned and squeezed her father’s knee. “I can feel it, Dad. They’re gonna win.”

Her father, an old man who barely resembled the dad she’d grown up with, raised a shaky fist partway into the freezing night. “You can do it, Kade!” His hand dropped weakly back into his lap.

Abby patted her father’s limp arm and then cupped her hands around her mouth. “Make it count, Kade. Come on!” Her fingers tightened into fists, and she tapped them in a fast, steady beat against her knees.
Please, Lord, let him have this.

After tonight there were bound to be few moments of light for any of them.

“I kinda hate to see it end.” Her father grinned at her through wet eyes. “All those years of football together. The boy’s amazing. Plays just like his father.”

Abby focused her gaze on her son and the corners of her mouth lifted. “He always has.”

“Mom, isn’t it weird?” Nicole leaned her head on Abby’s shoulder.

“What, honey?” Abby took her daughter’s free hand and resisted the urge to close her eyes. It felt so good, sitting here in the thrill of the moment, surrounded by family . . .

“This is Kade’s last high-school game.” Nicole’s voice was thick, filled with tender indignation, as though she’d only now realized a loss she hadn’t prepared for. “Just like that, it’s over. Next year he’ll be at Iowa, and it won’t be the same.”

A stinging sensation made its way across Abby’s eyes again, and she struggled to swallow.
If only you knew, sweetheart . . .
“It never is.”

Nicole stared down at the field. “I mean, this is it. After tonight he’ll never play for Dad again.” She glanced at the scoreboard. “All those practices and games, and in a few minutes it’ll be over. Just a box full of memories and old newspaper articles.”

The lump grew thicker.
Not now, Nicole. Let me enjoy the moment
. Tears clouded Abby’s vision.
Come on, get a grip. Life is full of endings
. She squeezed her daughter’s hand and uttered a short laugh. “We’re supposed to be cheering, remember? They haven’t won yet.”

BOOK: A Time to Dance/A Time to Embrace
3.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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