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Authors: Francine Rivers

BOOK: The Scarlet Thread
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T H E
C A L L

against the wall. Some were original oils done by her grandfather

during his retirement years. Others were family pictures that

dated back several generations. Paint cans left over from restoration on the house were stacked on a shelf in case touch-ups were

needed to the colorful trim. One bookshelf was filled with shoe

boxes, each labeled in her father’s neat printing and holding tax

returns and business records going back twenty years.

A tattered, paint-chipped rocking horse stood in lonely exile in

the far back corner.

Her mother had moved some of the old furniture around so

that Grandpa Edgeworth’s old couch with the lion-claw legs was

sitting in the center of the attic. Opposite it was Daddy’s old

worn recliner. Two ratty needlepoint footstools served as stands

for the things her mother had removed from an old trunk that

stood open before her.

Marianna Clanton had a tea towel wrapped around her hair.

“I thought I should go through some of these things and make

some decisions.”

“Decisions about what?” Sierra said, distracted.

“What to throw away, what to keep.”

“Why now?”

“I should’ve started years ago,” her mother said with a rueful

smile. “I just kept putting it off.” She looked around at the cluttered room. “It’s a little overwhelming. Bits and pieces from so

many lives.”

Sierra ran her hand over an old stool that had been in the

kitchenette before it was remodeled. She remembered coming

home from kindergarten and climbing up on it at the breakfast

bar so she could watch her mother make Tollhouse cookies.

“Alex called me a little while ago and told me he’s accepted a job

in Los Angeles.”

Her mother glanced up at her, a pained expression flickering

across her face. “It was to be expected, I suppose.”

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T H R E A D
“Expected? How?”

“Alex has always been ambitious.”

“He has a good job. He got that big promotion last year, and

he’s making good money. They gave him a comprehensive health

package and retirement plan. We have a wonderful new house.

We like our neighbors. Clanton and Carolyn are happy in school.

We’re close to family. I didn’t even know Alex had put out word

he was looking for another position until he called me today—”

Her voice broke. “He was so excited, Mom. You should’ve heard

him. He said this new company made him a fantastic offer, and he

accepted it without even talking to me about it.”

“What sort of company?”

“Computers.
Games.
The sort of stuff Alex likes to play around

with at home. He met these guys at a sales conference last spring

in Las Vegas. He never even told me about them. He says he did,

but I don’t remember. Alex has been working on an idea he has

for a role-playing game for an Internet-type program. Players

could link up with others and create armies and battle scenarios.

He said it’s right up their alley. And it doesn’t even bother him

that they haven’t been in business four years yet or that they

started business in a garage.”

“So did Apple Computers.”

“That’s different. These guys haven’t been around long

enough to prove they can
stay
in business. I don’t see how Alex

can throw away ten years’ seniority at Hewlett-Packard when

people are being laid off of other jobs left and right! I don’t want

to go to Los Angeles, Mom. Everything I love is here.”

“You love Alex, honey.”

“I’d like to
shoot
Alex! Where does he get off making a decision

like this without even discussing it with me?”

“Would you have listened if he had?”

She couldn’t believe her mother would ask such a thing. “Of

course I’d listen! Doesn’t he think it has anything to do with

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me?” She wiped angry tears from her cheeks. “You know what

he said to me, Mom? He told me he’d already called a Realtor,

and the woman’s coming by tonight to list the house. Can you believe it? I just planted daffodils all along the back fence. If he has

his way, I won’t even be here to see them bloom!”

Her mother said nothing for a long moment. She folded her

hands in her lap while Sierra rummaged through her shoulder

bag for a Kleenex.

Sierra sniffled into the tissue. “It’s not fair. He never even took

my feelings into consideration, Mom. He just made the decision

and told me it’s a done deal. Just like that. Whether I like it or

not, we’re moving to Los Angeles. He doesn’t even care how I feel

about it because it’s what
he
wants.”

“I’m sure Alex didn’t make the decision arbitrarily. He’s always looked at everything from all sides.”

“Not from
my
side.” Restless and upset, she walked across the

room and picked up an old stuffed bear her brother had cuddled

when he was a boy. She hugged it against her. “Alex grew up

here just like I did, Mom. I don’t understand how he can turn his

back on everything and be so
happy
about it.”

“Maybe Alex wasn’t treated as kindly as you were, Sierra.”

Sierra glanced back at her mother in surprise. “His parents

never abused him.”

“I wasn’t referring to Luís or María; they’re wonderful people.

I mean the assumptions too many people make about Hispanics.”

“Well, he can add all that to the other things Los Angeles will

have to offer. Smog. Traffic. Riots. Earthquakes.”

Her mother smiled. “Disneyland. Movie stars. Beaches,” she

recited, clearly seeing a much more positive side to things.

Daddy used to call it her Pollyanna attitude, especially when he

was irritated and in no mood to see the good side of a situation.

The way Sierra was feeling now.

“Everyone we love is here, Mom. Family, friends.”

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T H R E A D
“You’re not moving to Maine, honey. It’s only a day’s drive

between Healdsburg and Los Angeles. And this
is
the age of

telephones.”

“You talk as though it doesn’t matter to you that we’re leaving.”

Sierra bit her lip and looked away. “I thought you’d understand.”

“If I could make the choice, of course, I’d rather you were

here. And I do understand. Your grandparents were far from

overjoyed when I moved from Fresno to San Francisco.” She

smiled. “It was a ten-hour drive in those days, but you’d have

thought I’d moved to the far side of the moon.”

Sierra smiled wanly. “It’s hard for me to see you as some sort

of beatnik living in San Francisco, Mom.”

She laughed. “No less hard than it is for me to see you as a

young woman with a wonderful husband and two children in

school.”

Sierra blew her nose. “Wonderful husband,” she muttered.

“He’s a male chauvinist pig. Alex probably hasn’t even bothered

to mention this to his parents.”

“Luís will understand. Just as your father would have. I think

Alex has stayed here for ten years because of you. It’s time you

allow him to do what he needs to do to make full use of the talents

he has.”

It was the last thing Sierra wanted to hear. She didn’t reply as

she ran her hand along the books in an old shelf. She knew what

her mother said had merit, but that didn’t mean she wanted to

listen. Alex had received other offers and turned each down after

discussing them with her. She had thought the decisions mutual,

but now she wondered. He had sounded so excited and happy

when he talked to her about this job. . . .

She plucked
Winnie the Pooh
out and blew dust off the top.

Stroking the front of the book, she remembered sitting in her

mother’s lap as the story was read to her. How many times had

she heard it? The cover was worn from handling.

1 6

T H E
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Just thinking about leaving and not being able to see her

mother or talk with her every few days left Sierra feeling bereft.

Tears blurred her vision.

“Alex gave notice this morning.” She pushed the book back

into its space. “It was the first thing he did after he got the call

from Los Angeles.
Then
he called me with the
great
news.” Covering her face, she wept.

Sierra felt some comfort when her mother’s arms came around

her.

“It’ll be all right, honey. You’ll see.” Her mother stroked her

back as though she were a child. “Things have a way of working

out for the best. The Lord has plans for you and for Alex, plans

for your good, not your destruction. Trust him.”

The Lord! Why did her mother always have to bring up
the

Lord?
What sort of plan was it to tear people’s lives apart?

She withdrew from her mother’s arms. “All our friends are

here.
You’re
here. I don’t want to move. It makes no sense. What

does Alex think he’ll find in Los Angeles that he doesn’t already

have here?”

“Maybe he wants the chance to prove himself.”

“He
has
proven himself. He’s succeeded at everything he’s

ever done.”

“Maybe he doesn’t feel he’s done enough.”

“He doesn’t have to prove anything to me,” Sierra said, her

voice choked.

“Sometimes men have to prove things to themselves, Sierra.”

She took her daughter’s hand. “Sit, honey.” She drew her down

onto the old faded couch. Patting her hand, she smiled wistfully.

“I remember Alex talking with your father about all the frustrations he felt in his job.”

“Daddy was the one who told Alex to settle in and stay put so

he’d have all the benefits.”

“Your father was worried Alex would do the same thing he did.”

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T H R E A D
She blew her nose and glanced at her mother. “What do you

mean?”

“Your father changed jobs half a dozen times before he settled

into real estate.”

“He did? I don’t remember that.”

“You were too young to notice.” Her mother smiled wistfully.

“Your father intended to be a high school biology teacher.”

“Daddy? A teacher?” She couldn’t imagine it. He wouldn’t

have put up with anything. The first student to shoot a spit wad

would have found himself upside down in a garbage can outside

the classroom door.

Her mother laughed. “Yes, Daddy. He spent five years in college preparing to do just that and after one year in a classroom

decided he hated it. He said the girls were all airheads and the

boys were running on testosterone.”

Sierra smiled, amazed and amused. “I can’t even imagine.”

“Your dad went to work in a lab then. He hated that, too. He

said staring into microscopes all day bored him senseless. So he

went to work for a men’s clothing store.”

“Daddy?” Sierra said again, astounded.

“Yes,
Daddy.
You and Mike were both in school when he quit.

After that, he trained to become a police officer. I was as strongly

against that as you are against moving to Los Angeles.” She patted

Sierra’s hand again. “But good came out of it. I used to lie awake at

night, worrying myself sick over him. I was so sure something

would happen to him. Those years were the worst of my life, and

our marriage suffered because of it. And yet the greatest blessing

came from it, too. I became a Christian while your father was

working the eleven-to-seven shift as a highway patrolman.”

“I didn’t know all this, Mom.”

“Why would you? A mother hardly shares these kinds of

struggles with her young children. You were four and Mike was

seven. Neither of you were happy. You sensed the tension be1 8

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