Just Beyond the Clouds Read online

  Copyright © 2007 by Karen Kingsbury

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by

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  who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Center Street

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com.

  The Center Street name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: September 2007

  ISBN: 978-1-599-95052-5

  Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Forever in Fiction™

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Reading Group Guide

  DEDICATED TO...

  Donald, my prince charming.

  We’ve reached a new year, another season in life, and still I cannot imagine this ride without you. Our kids are flourishing, and so much of that is because of you, because of your commitment to me and to them. You are the spiritual leader, the man of my dreams who makes this whole crazy, wonderful adventure possible. I thank God for you every day. I am amazed at the way you blend love and laughter, tenderness and tough standards to bring out the best in our boys. Thanks for loving me, for being my best friend, and for finding “date moments” amidst even the most maniacal or mundane times. My favorite times are with you by my side. I love you always, forever.

  Kelsey, my precious daughter.

  You are seventeen, and somehow that sounds more serious than the other ages. As if we jumped four years over the past twelve months. Seventeen brings with it the screeching brakes on a childhood that has gone along full speed until now. Seventeen? Seventeen years since I held you in the nursery, feeling a sort of love I’d never felt before. Seventeen sounds like bunches of lasts all lined up ready to take the stage and college counselors making plans to take my little girl from here and home into a brand-new big world. Seventeen tells me it won’t be much longer. Especially as you near the end of your junior year. Sometimes I find myself barely able to exhale. The ride is so fast at this point that I can only try not to blink, so I won’t miss a minute of it. I see you growing and unfolding like the most beautiful springtime flower, becoming interested in current events and formulating godly viewpoints that are yours alone. The same is true in dance, where you are simply breathtaking onstage. I believe in you, honey. Keep your eyes on Jesus and the path will be easy to follow. Don’t ever stop dancing. I love you.

  Tyler, my beautiful song.

  Can it be that you are fourteen and helping me bring down the dishes from the top shelf? Just yesterday people would call and confuse you with Kelsey. Now they confuse you with your dad—in more ways than one. You are on the bridge, dear son, making the transition between Neverland and Tomorrowland and becoming a strong, godly young man in the process. Keep giving Jesus your very best, and always remember that you’re in a battle. In today’s world, Ty, you need His armor every day, every minute. Don’t forget . . . when you’re up there onstage, no matter how bright the lights, I’ll be watching from the front row, cheering you on. I love you.

  Sean, my wonder boy.

  Your sweet nature continues to be a bright light in our home. It seems a lifetime ago that we first brought you—our precious son—home from Haiti. It’s been my great joy to watch you grow and develop this past year, learning more about reading and writing and, of course, animals. You’re a walking encyclopedia of animal facts, and that, too, brings a smile to my face. Recently a cold passed through the family, and you handled it better than any of us. Smiling through your fever, eyes shining even when you felt your worst. Sometimes I try to imagine if everyone everywhere had your outlook—what a sunny place the world would be. Your hugs are something I look forward to, Sean. Keep close to Jesus. I love you.

  Josh, my tender tough guy.

  You continue to excel at everything you do, but my favorite time is late at night when I poke my head into your room and see that—once again—your nose is buried in your Bible. You really get it, Josh. I loved hearing you talk about baptism the other day, how you feel ready to make that decision, that commitment to Jesus. At almost twelve, I can only say that every choice you make for Christ will take you closer to the plans He has for your life. That by being strong in the Lord, first and foremost, you’ll be strong at everything else. Keep winning for Him, dear son. You make me so proud. I love you.

  EJ, my chosen one.

  You amaze me, Emmanuel Jean! The other day you told me that you pray often, and I asked you what about. “I thank God a lot,” you told me. “I thank Him for my health and my life and my home.” Your normally dancing eyes grew serious. “And for letting me be adopted into the right family.” I still feel the sting of tears when I imagine you praying that way. I’m glad God let you be adopted into the right family, too. One of my secret pleasures is watching you and Daddy becoming so close. I’ll glance over at the family room during a playoff basketball game on TV, and there you’ll be, snuggled up close to him, his arm around your shoulders. As long as Daddy’s your hero, you have nothing to worry about. You couldn’t have a better role model. I know that Jesus is leading the way and that you are excited to learn the plans He has for you. But for you, this year will always stand out as a turning point. Congratulations, honey! I love you.

  Austin, my miracle child.

  Can my little boy be nine years old? Even when you’re twenty-nine you’ll be my youngest, my baby. I guess that’s how it is with the last child, but there’s no denying what my eyes tell me. You’re not little anymore. Even so, I love that—once in a while—you wake up and scurry down the hall to our room so you can sleep in the middle. Sound asleep I still see the blond-haired infant who lay in intensive care, barely breathing, awaiting emergency heart surgery. I’m grateful for your health, precious son, grateful God gave you back to us at the end of that long-ago day. Your heart remains the most amazing part of you, not only physically, miraculously, but because you have such kindness and compassion for people. One minute tough boy hunting frogs and snakes out back, pretending you’re an Army Ranger, then getting teary-eyed when Horton the Elephant nearly loses his dust speck full of little Who people. Be safe, baby boy. I love you.

  And to God Almighty, the Author of life, who has—for now—blessed me with these.

  Acknowledgments

  This book couldn’t have come together without the help of many people. First, a special thanks to my friends at Hachette Book Group USA, who continue to believe in my books, and my ministry of Life-Changing Fiction™. Thank you!

  Also thanks to my amazing agent, Rick Christian, president of Alive Communications. I am more amazed as every day passes at your sincere integrity, your brilliant talent, and your commitment to the L
ord and to getting my Life-Changing Fiction out to readers all over the world. You are a strong man of God, Rick. You care for my career as if you were personally responsible for the souls God touches through these books. Thank you for looking out for my personal time—the hours I have with my husband and kids most of all. I couldn’t do this without you.

  As always, this book wouldn’t be possible without the help of my husband and kids, who will eat just about anything when I’m on deadline and who understand and love me anyway. I thank God that I’m still able to spend more time with you than with my pretend people—as Austin calls them. Thanks for understanding the sometimes crazy life I lead and for always being my greatest support.

  Thanks to my mother and assistant, Anne Kingsbury, for her great sensitivity and love for my readers. You are a reflection of my own heart, Mom, or maybe I’m a reflection of yours. Either way we are a great team, and I appreciate you more than you know. I’m grateful also for my dad, Ted Kingsbury, who is and always has been my greatest encourager. I remember when I was a little girl, Dad, and you would say, “One day, honey, everyone will read your books and know your work.” Thank you for believing in me long before anyone else ever did. Thanks also to my sisters, who help out with my business when the workload is too large to see around. I appreciate you!

  Especially thanks to Tricia Kingsbury, my sister who runs a large part of my business life. God brought you to me, Tricia, when things in my office were insanely crazy, and I’ll be grateful for always. You are my sister, my friend, and now my assistant. It doesn’t get any better than that. Don’t ever leave, okay? And to Olga Kalachik, whose hard work helping me prepare for events allows me to operate a significant part of my business from my home. The personal touch you both bring to my ministry is precious to me, priceless to me . . . Thank you with all my heart.

  And thanks to my friends and family, especially my sister Sue, who is a new addition to my staff, and to Shannon Kane and Melissa Kane, my nieces, who helped me with major projects this past year. Thanks to Ann and Sylvia, and to all of you who pray for me and my family. We couldn’t do this without you. Thanks to all of you who continue to surround me with love and prayer and support. I could list you by name, but you know who you are. Thank you for believing in me and for seeing who I really am. A true friend stands by through the changing seasons of life and cheers you on not for your successes but for staying true to what matters most. You are the ones who know me that way, and I’m grateful for every one of you.

  Of course, the greatest thanks goes to God Almighty, the most wonderful Author of all—the Author of life. The gift is Yours. I pray I might have the incredible opportunity and responsibility to use it for You all the days of my life.

  Forever in Fiction™

  A special thanks to Al and Sandee Kirkwood who won the Forever in Fiction™ auction at the YWCA benefit in Washington State. The Kirkwoods chose to honor their daughter, Kelley Sue Gaylor, by naming her Forever in Fiction™.

  Kelley Gaylor is thirty-nine, married to Dean, her husband of sixteen years. They have three children: Allie, twelve; Matt, ten; and Joey, five. One of Kelley’s many blessings is the fact that both sets of their parents live close by, and that the entire family gets together often.

  Kelley enjoys vacationing with her family at Black Butte Ranch in Central Oregon and spending time with the people she loves. She is the oldest of three siblings and spends much of her free time watching her kids play sports, or biking, skiing, and doing weekly Bible studies. She helps out at her children’s school and loves her reading time.

  In addition, Kelley does charity work for children and started a group called “For the Children,” which provides basic clothing to kids at four schools. Her parents have a thoroughbred racing and breeding business in Washington, and Kelley has had the privilege of attending the Kentucky Derby and the Belmont Stakes. She is a good listener and is liked by everyone who knows her.

  You’ll notice that Kelley Gaylor’s character is a volunteer in Just Beyond the Clouds. She works with handicapped people and helps them find their greatest potential. I chose to name this character after Kelley because it was closest to how Kelley is viewed by the people who love her—giving, generous, attentive, and caring.

  Al and Sandee Kirkwood, I pray that Kelley is honored by your gift, and by her placement in Just Beyond the Clouds, and that you will always see a bit of Kelley when you read her name in the pages of this novel, where she will be Forever in Fiction™.

  For those of you who are not familiar with Forever in Fiction™, it is my way of involving you, the readers, in my stories, while raising money for charities. To date, this item has raised more than one hundred thousand dollars at charity auctions across the country. If you are interested in having a Forever in Fiction™ package donated to your auction, contact my assistant at [email protected]. Please write Forever in Fiction in the subject line. Please note that I am able to donate only a limited number of these each year. For that reason I have set a fairly high minimum bid on this package. That way the maximum funds are raised for charities.

  Chapter One

  The eighteen adult students at the front of the classroom were a happy, ragtag group, mostly short and squatty, with sturdy necks and squinty eyes. All but two wore thick glasses. Their voices mingled in a loud cacophony of raucous laughter, genuine confusion, and boisterous verbal expression.

  “Teacher!” The one named Gus took a step forward, lowered his brow, and pointed to the student beside him. “He wants the bus to the Canadian Rockies.” Gus rolled his eyes. He gestured dramatically toward the window. “The buses out there go to the Colorado Rockies.” He tossed both his hands in the air. “Could you tell him, Teacher?”

  “Gus is right.” Twenty-six-year-old Elle Dalton—teacher, mentor, encourager, friend—looked out the window. “Those are the Colorado Rockies. But our trip tomorrow isn’t to the mountains.” She smiled at the young men. “We’re going to the Rocky Mountain Plaza. Rocky Mountain is just the name.”

  “Right.” Daisy stood up and put her hands on her hips. She knew the Mountain Metropolitan Transit system better than anyone at the center. Daisy wagged her thumb at Gus. “I told you that. Shopping tomorrow. Not mountain climbing.”

  “Yes.” Elle stood a few feet back and studied her students. She’d been over this two dozen times today already. But that was typical for a Thursday. “Everyone take out your cheat sheets.”

  In a slow sort of chain reaction, the students reached into their jeans pockets or in some cases their socks or waistbands for a folded piece of paper. After a minute or so, the entire group had them out and they began reciting the information—all at different times and with different levels of speaking ability.

  “Wait”—she held up her hand—“let’s listen.” Elle knew the routine by heart. She approached the line and waited until she had their attention. “Everyone follow along with me.” She walked slowly down the row of students. “Bus Route Number Ten will take us from the center at Cheyenne Boulevard and Nevada Avenue south past Meadows Road, left on Academy Boulevard to the shops.”

  “Academy Boulevard?” Carl Joseph stepped out of line, his forehead creased with worry. Carl Joseph was new to the center. He’d been coming for three months. His ability to become independent was questionable. “Is that in Colorado Springs or somewhere else?”

  “It’s here, Carl Joseph.” Daisy patted his shoulder. “Right here in the Springs.”

  “Right.” Elle grinned. Daisy could teach the class. “The whole bus trip will take about fifteen minutes.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look more sure of himself. “Okay. Okay, Teacher. If you say so, okay.” He stepped back in line.

  And so it went for the next half hour. Elle broke down the directions. The color of the bus—orange—and how much time they’d have to climb aboard and how long it would take to make the drive down to Academy Boulevard, and how many stops would happen between getting on and getting off the bus.

/>   For many of them the lesson was a review. They tackled a different route every week, memorizing it, drawing it out, play-acting it, and finally incorporating it into a field trip on Friday. When they reached the end of the thirty most common bus routes, they’d start again at the beginning. But Elle’s students had Down Syndrome, so most of them experienced varying degrees of short-term memory loss. Reviewing the bus routes could never happen often enough.

  At the thirty-minute mark attention spans among the group were fading fast. Elle held out her hands. “Break time.” She looked out the window again. It was a late April morning, and sunshine streamed in from a bright blue sky. “Fifteen minutes . . . outdoors today.”

  “Yippee!” Tammy, a student with long brown braids, jumped and did a half spin. “Outdoor break!”

  “Ughh! I hate outdoors!” Sid scowled and punched at the air. At thirty, he was the oldest student at the center. “Hate, hate, hate.”

  “Don’t be a hater.” Gus shook a finger at the complaining student. “Ping-Pong is good for outdoors.”

  “Tag, you’re it!” Brian tapped Gus on the shoulder and ran out the door laughing. Brian was a redhead who’d been coming to the center since Elle took over two years before. He was the happiest student by far. As he ran he yelled: “We could play tag and everyone could play tag!”

  “Yeah!”

  “I hate tag.” Sid crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip. “Hate, hate, hate.”

  The students headed for the door, all of them talking at once. Straggling behind and lost in their own world were Carl Joseph and Daisy. He was pointing outside. “No rain today, Daisy. Just big bright sunshine. That’s thanks to God, right?”

  “Right.” She looked up at him with adoring eyes. “God gets the thanks.”

  “I thought so.” He laughed from deep in his throat and clapped his hands five quick times. “I thought God gets the thanks.”