On Every Side Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  KAREN KINGSBURY'S BOOKS

  When Joy Came to Stay

  “Kingsbury confronts hard issues with truth and sensitivity.”

  FRANCINE RIVERS, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF LEOTA'S GARDEN

  “Kingsbury's poignant tale of a lost and broken family and how they experience God's miraculous healing is a sure guarantee to bring hope and joy to her readers.”

  MELODY CARLSON, AUTHOR OF DIARY OF A TEENAGE GIRL AND IT'S MY LIFE

  “A thought-provoking account of the battle of depression in a believer's life. It leaves no doubt that God is loving, merciful, and faithful.”

  NANCY MOSER, AUTHOR OF THE MUSTARD SEED SERIES

  A Moment of Weakness

  “Kingsbury spins a tale of love and loss, lies and betrayal, that sent me breathlessly turning pages…”

  LIZ CURTIS HIGGS, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF BOOKENDS AND MIXED SIGNALS

  “A gripping love story A Moment of Weakness demonstrates the devastating consequences of wrong choices and the long shadows deception casts over the lives of God's children. It also shows the even longer reach of God's providence, grace, and forgiveness.”

  RANDY ALCORN, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF DEADLINE AND DOMINION

  “One message shines clear and strong through Karen Kingsbury's A Moment of Weakness: Our loving God is a God of second chances.”

  ANGELA ELWELL HUNT, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE IMMORTAL

  Waiting for Morning

  “What a talent! I love her work.”

  GARY SMALLEY, BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  “Kingsbury not only entertains but goes a step further and confronts readers with situations that are all too common, even for Christians. At the same time, it will remind believers of God's mercy and challenge them to pray for America. The book… reveals God's awesome love and His amazing ability to turn moments of weakness into times of strengthening.”

  CHRISTIAN RETAILING, SPOTLIGHT REVIEW

  NOVELS BY KAREN KINGSBURY

  Where Yesterday Lives

  When Joy Came to Stay

  On Every Side

  A Time to Dance

  A Time to Embrace

  One Tuesday Morning

  Oceans Apart

  Beyond Tuesday Morning

  THE FOREVER FAITHFUL SERIES

  Waitngjor Morning

  A Moment of Weakness

  Halfway to Forever

  THE REDEMPTION SERIES

  (Co-written with Gary Smalley)

  Redemption

  Remember

  Return

  Rejoice

  Reunion

  Dedicated to…

  DONALD, my closest friend, my other half, the best husband always and forever. I love you more today than a hundred yesterdays, laugh more at the silliness between us, and live more with one eye on the rearview mirror, only too aware of how fast the days go. With you all of life is a series of memories and blessed magical moments, a roller coaster of thrills in which you are constantly at my side, steady and strong. Remember when you told me you loved the Lord more than me? Let's just say I'm glad it's still true. It's what makes it all so good.

  KELSEY, my sweet and precious little Norm, who can boot a soccer ball like no one else and still be the prettiest girl around. I thank God that He lives within you, helping you know right from wrong, helping you understand the plans He alone has for you. Your tender heart has more discernment than most adults. As you told me the other day, you don't need a “play” boyfriend to feel good about yourself. You need the Lord. And I'm so thankful you have Him in a way that shows in everything you do… your eyes, your smile, and the joy you bring me and your dad every day of our lives.

  TYLER, my strapping eight-year-old treasure, who has no idea how talented and bright and kindhearted he truly is. If only you could see the picture God is painting of you, the one your dad and I see more clearly every day Please know that I'm glad you're not rushing the process, grateful that for a little while longer I might hear your humming, happy voice making up the music of our lives. Congratulations on winning statewide honors on your “Reflections” story, Ty One day I'll be reading your dedications!

  AUSTIN, who is still Michael Jordan. The marvel of you, my precious child, is not that at three years old you can slip into your No. 23 jersey and dribble a ball between your legs, watching wide-eyed when your dad coaches the big guys and taking in every bit of it. It isn't the way you can reverse dunk on your kid-size hoop, or shoot nothing-but-nets all afternoon. Rather, it's the way your eyes fill with tears when you hear a song about Jesus. We knew from the beginning that your heart was special… we're beginning to see how very special it really is.

  E. J. and SEAN—As I write this I am twelve days from taking a plane to Haiti where I will pick you up and bring you home to live with us forever. My prayer for you, my chosen sons, is that God will impress upon your hearts how very special you both are, how great the plans He has for you. As surely as night follows day, He has amazing reasons why He brought you here to be a part of our family. We have prayed and planned for this moment for a very long time and are humbly awed at the privilege of being your parents. We—all of us—love you more than you could know or understand.

  And to GOD ALMIGHTY, who has, for now, blessed me with these.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, when I put together a novel there are people to thank, people without whom the entire process simply would not have been possible. On that note I thank the Lord first and foremost for allowing me the dream of writing stories straight from my heart while still being a stay-at-home mom. Also thanks to my husband and kids for not complaining when dinner is little more than a cold tuna sandwich and a sliced apple. You guys are the best family in the world.

  Thanks to Kristy and Jeff Blake for continuing to take my little Austin on days when there's no other way the writing will get done. My heart is always at ease knowing my little boy is in your care. And to Sorena Wagner, the best nanny and all-around helper anyone could have. Truly, Sorena, I couldn't have gone to the next place in my writing career—the place God was calling me to go—without your help.

  There are a number of people I am indebted to professionally, and top of the list is my agent, Greg Johnson. Greg, your God-given ideas and ways of making books come together are truly awe-inspiring. I thank the Lord for the day Terri Blackstock introduced us…and I look forward along with you to many, many more books and shared blessings together.

  Thanks also to my amazing editor, Karen Ball. So often some-one comments on a certain scene in my books or on a character's personality, and I smile proudly and tell them the truth: That came from Karen Ball! You're blessed at what you do, and I am doubly so for working with you.

  The staff at Multnomah Publishers always deserves a great big thank-you for being the amazing people you are. Every one of you, from Don Jacobson to the staff of sales and marketing and editorial, is driven by God's purpose. Clearly the Lord is blessing your efforts on His behalf, and I pray He continues to do so a hundredfold in the years to come. Thank you for believing in me four years ago when I first set out to write inspirational fiction.

  It may not be customary to thank the cover designer, but in our world a book truly is judged by its cover. That being the case, I attribute much of my recent success to the God-given tal-ents of Kirk DouPonce from Uttley/DouPonce DesignWorks. You have a way of bringing all the emotion of my stories—the heartache and joy, the highs and lows—into a single illustration. And you do it better than anyone around. I am humbly grateful for your work on my books.

  There are always certain friends who take my books and make them topics of conversation at their work places or among their social circles. In my life those faithful friends and public relations experts
include my sisters Tricia, Sue, and Lynne; my parents, Anne and Ted Kingsbury; my niece, Shannon Kane; Phyllis Cummins; Betty Russell; Lisa Alexander; Joan Westfall; Debbie Kimsie; Tish Baum; the Chapman family; Christine Wessel; Pastor Mark Atteberry and his wife, Marilyn; Sylvia and Walt Wallgren; Ann Hudson; Vicki Graves; Barbara Okel; the Provo family; Sherry Heidenreich; Peggy Babbitts; Amber Santiago; the Daves family; Connie Schlonga; and dozens of friends from my Crossroads Church family, along with many oth-ers. Thank you for being my first line of encouragement and con-stant prayer support. Especially the handful of you who literally pray for my writing ministry and me every day How can I ever thank you for your love and prayers other than to say please, please keep praying. It's only by His power that any of this ever comes together in a way that might change lives for His glory.

  A special thanks goes to the hundreds of readers who have written me at my e-mail address, which is listed in the back of my books. I feel as though Fm friends with so many of you and I continue to look forward to your occasional updates and letters of encouragement regarding my books. You know who you are. You're the best group of readers an author could ever hope to have!

  Finally to the Skyview basketball team, who this year went from being a new school with one league win to a second-place league finish under the best coach (and husband) in the state. Thanks for giving me a reason to cheer—even on deadline. Go, Storm!

  One

  Joshua Nunn shuffled between a closet full of file cabinets and the boxes lining his office floor. He hadn't expected it to be this hard—packing up his dead partner's things and facing whatever was left of his own future. There was a heaviness in the air, a somber silence as though even the walls grieved the loss of the charismatic man whose presence had once consumed the place.

  Joshua sighed. He had never felt so alone in all his life.

  Bob Moses, senior attorney and Joshua's lifelong friend, opened the Religious Freedom Institute in Bethany, Pennsylvania, for one reason only: To take back ground lost to the enemy “Join me,” Bob had said when he presented the idea to Joshua three years earlier. “The promised land awaits!”

  And so it had. They'd won two local Pennsylvania cases in the past six months—one in which a group opposed to religious freedom sued a school district to prevent students from praying before football games. The case threatened to capture national attention—much like the one in Texas a few years back. But this time, when the opposition faced Bob and Joshua, they backed off.

  “God has His hand on this office,” Bob would say. “I can feel it, Joshua. He's taking us somewhere big.”

  There were dreams of hiring more attorneys, buying a bigger office building, and finding a place on America's legal center stage where they could join similar organizations in the national fight for religious freedom.

  But every one of those dreams seemed to die the day Bob Moses slumped over his office desk, dead of a heart attack at age fifty-seven.

  Now there were bills to pay office expenses to maintain, and not a single viable case on the horizon. With Bob gone, clients apparently assumed the firm was closed, and now, after just three weeks of Joshua working on his own, the phone calls were few and far between.

  He grabbed another stack of files, carried them across the office, and dropped them in a box. When he was finished clearing out his partner's things, he would deliver them to Bob's widow. The woman was taking it well, but many nights since Bob's death Joshua had come home to find his partner's wife sit-ting with his own dear Helen at the dining room table, tears in their eyes.

  Poor Betty.

  I know he's in a better place, Lord, but why? He still had so much to do…

  Be strong, Joshua.

  Be strong? It was the answer he seemed to be getting from the Lord more and more these days and it seemed an odd bit of advice. He was being strong, wasn't he? He hadn't broken down or refused to get out of bed. No, he'd been at the office every day since the funeral, and still not a call or case had come his way He'd researched potential lawsuits, made phone calls, written let-ters—but still nothing.

  The facts were simple. If he didn't start bringing in cases soon, he would have to close up shop and face the reality that at fifty-six years he was as desperately in need of a job as he'd been his first month out of college. A shallow laugh made its way to the surface, and Joshua shook his head.

  Be strong?

  He and Bob had worked as trial lawyers with Jones, Garner, and Schmidt for thirty years before joining forces in this religious freedom venture. In addition to their lofty goals for the Institute, there were other benefits. No more commutes to the big city extra time for evening card games and barbecues when any of their kids were home, more time in the town they loved. Joshua felt the sting of tears in his eyes and he blinked hard as he remembered how his partner seemed to have a bounce in his step at the idea of spending more time with his wife.

  And with Faith.

  There was a lump in Joshua's throat and he coughed so it would ease up. Much as he missed his friend and partner, young Faith missed the man more. Especially now, when it was sup-posed to be—

  He couldn't bear to think of Faith, of how difficult her father's death had been on her. Instead he drifted back to the beginning, back to the early 1970s where it had all begun. The year he was hired by the big city firm, he and Helen and their two girls moved to Bethany—the most beautiful place in all the world. Bob, Betty, and their daughters followed suit two years later, and the families had been practically related ever since. Joshua and Bob would tease each other about being surrounded by women.

  “Not a son among us, can you believe it?” Bob would throw his hands in the air.

  The memories faded. Joshua carried a stack of books across the room and finished filling the box. As he did he glanced at the portraits on the wall. Bob Moses and Joshua Nunn, attorneys at law We were the luckiest guys in all of Bethany, Bob.

  These days everything was different. Bob was gone. Joshua's kids were both married and lived a few hours’ drive away, and Bob's oldest daughter lived in Chicago. All that remained was Bob's youngest—Faith—still single at twenty-nine and trying to find her way in a world that offered little assistance, especially when the chips were down. Faith lived in Bethany and com-muted fifteen minutes to Philadelphia's WKZN affiliate station where she anchored the nightly news. Joshua pictured her as she had been a few weeks back at her father's funeral: Long, blond hair and far-off, pale blue eyes. Beautiful girl; a celebrity really.

  And very close to her father.

  Bob hadn't talked about it much, but Joshua knew Faith was part of the reason he wanted to work in Bethany. “I worry about her,” Bob would say now and then. “She's had a rough go of it.”

  The plan to open a law office in Bethany seemed like a win-ner from every angle. They could leave the high-powered, high-pressured firm and would work from a leased office anchored in the center of the city's quaint downtown district, just minutes from their homes in Maple Heights. They would spend hours building cases and strategizing trial appearances and swapping stories of the good old days—back when they ran cross-country for rival Philadelphia high schools and squared off more than once on opposing debate teams.

  Bob was so sure of himself, so full of energy and desire, con-vinced beyond discussion that God's hand was in this venture. And from the get-go God blessed their intentions in a way that made it look as though Bob had been right.

  Joshua knelt down and yanked packing tape across the flaps of the full box.

  “Retirement is for old people.” Joshua could still hear Bob's voice as it rang loudly through the office. “We could run this law office another twenty years.” A smile would fill his face. “Remember, Joshua…where God guides, God provides.”

  The memory faded on a wave of doubt. Joshua stopped for a moment, gazing outside at the late summer green in the leaves that lined Main Street. Why would You guide us here… take us from our steady jobs… just to leave me all alone? How will
I provide stabil-ity for Helen now? For Faith?

  Joshua, hear me, son. You are not alone.

  The voice was as strong and certain as ever, a constant reminder that Joshua's relationship with a mighty God was intact, the single guiding force in his life. He opened another box and struggled to his feet. Once Bob's things were gone, maybe he could advertise for a partner. Someone who didn't need to make money up-front. Joshua huffed at the thought. How likely was that? The situation was hopeless.

  There was something else, too.

  With Bob gone, Joshua wondered whether he was actually up to the task of fighting religious freedom cases. Bob was the out-going one, the lawyer with flair and style and conviction. Joshua? He was merely a simple man who loved God above everything and everyone else; a man whose arguments in court were suc-cinct and heartfelt rather than memorable. Bob had said more profound things at lunch over a cheeseburger and fries than Joshua had ever said in court. Joshua had figured he'd enjoy fighting nearly any cause at Bob Moses’ side. But without him?

  His doubts were rampant as barn mice.

  Joshua pulled himself into a nearby chair and hung his head. What was he supposed to do now? The firm wouldn't hire him back… His retirement fund was intact, so it wasn't a financial concern. But with Bob gone Joshua felt as though he'd lost his sense of direction, his focus as a man. He looked up and studied the office, taking in the way Helen and Betty had arranged the plants just so, how the windows on three sides allowed the light to fill the room. Joshua closed his eyes. This was Bob's dream, God… tell me I'm supposed to let it go. Please…