My Land Is Your Land

By Debra Fulton-White

THE PAST

Back at the University of Berkeley, the commitment to dedicate his life to missionary work seems far too great of a challenge for Eric Jordan so he flees from the two things that he truly needs-a heart dedicated to God, and the woman he loves.

THE PRESENT

After a six-year split, former college sweethearts Eric Jordan and Sarah Knowles reunite in the most unexpected of places-the dark recesses of a broken-down elevator in an abandoned office building. Passion reignites Eric's spirit, making him determined to win back the affections of both God and Sarah. But current trials and tribulations in their hometown of Oaktown, California, severely test the couple's renewed commitment to each other.

THE FUTURE

Despite the pain and heartbreak of Eric's past rejection, Sarah accepts what she perceives as God's will for her life and succumbs to Eric's sincere remorse and charismatic charms. But is this the right thing to do after having her heart ripped apart by the only man she's ever truly loved? Should she surrender herself-mind, body, and spirit-yet again?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 7, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595829521

Debra Fulton-White

Debra Fulton-White is a native of sunny San Diego, California where she resides with her family and is an active board member of the Parent Teacher Association. Please visit her website at: www.mylandisyourland.com Email: [e-mail].

Book preview

CHAPTER 1 

Worn completely out, Eric Jordan peeled his forehead off the stubborn elevator doors, strained another impossible glance through the miniscule crack and held out that someone would come to his rescue sooner rather than later.

Help, Lord help me, please! he whined with sincerity. Is there anyone here? Anyone? Can somebody out there help me? God briefly crossed his mind. He smashed his ear on the doors and listened. Nothing. His normally deep voice squeaked a few octaves higher than it did exactly forty-five seconds ago. No reply from the shadowed, musky hallway of the abandoned two-story office building that sat just before the outskirts of his hometown of Oaktown, California. Where was the volunteer community security guard who had driven by him in the parking lot on his way into the building? Where were the vagrants who frequented the immediate area? Was there no one who could hear his frantic cries for help?

Second thoughts of the reason he was there at that time of night plagued him. He knew that the escrow would be closing tomorrow. Why didn’t he just go there during daylight hours? He already knew that the building needed repairs and then to get trapped in a dilapidated elevator? Obviously, all the excitement of finally securing the five million dollar grant and the spacious new headquarters drove his enthusiasm and him straight to Bradley Street at seven o’clock post meridian.

The faint trace of a very dull light flickered its way through the crack but did nothing to comfort his situation in the cold merciless elevator. It brought with it a slight draft that made him shake beyond his control. He shivered, hopelessly thinking about his brand new designer leather jacket he left lying on the front seat of his car. He hadn’t realized that a trip to visit the prospective headquarters for his new research and development endeavor would turn out to be a one-hour ordeal with a broken-down elevator. For no apparent reason, his ride just stopped and refused to budge no matter how hard he pushed the stubborn sticky buttons.

The dry-rotted wall paper on the interior of the elevator hung ripped and torn, seeking to be released from the prehistoric glue that once held it in place. Spider webs clung to the upper corners of the cell, dangling with dust that slightly blew from the draft. Eric hesitated to sit on the grimy floor but the weight of his body slid him hopelessly onto his bottom. The odor in the air and the mere thought of all the invisible germs upset his stomach. Balancing his heavy head in his hands, he raised yet another prayer. God, even thought I know I don’t deserve it, I could really use your intervention right about now.

He quieted his thoughts and focused his attention on trying to discern any signs of movement coming from the outside. Patting all of his pockets for his cell phone had grown old and he could have kicked himself for leaving it in his jacket that sat on the passenger seat of his car. But, he thought, who would I have called anyway. It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday night. Besides, Russell should be in the middle of wrapping up the deal at Italiana D’oro.

He scowled, wishing he hadn’t gotten so deeply involved with Russell Johnson as a business partner, who was trying to muscle in on his invention of the prototype of the ViCam. Russell had all the savvy necessary to sell ice to an Eskimo but that was the extent of it. Eric had all the brains behind the ingenuity of the discovery and cringed at the very thought that he would have to share the benefits with such a shady shyster like Russell Johnson. Russell was Eric’s buddy and classmate from back at the University of Berkeley who majored in law. He went on to make partner in one of the regions largest legal firms in history and had successfully closed each and every merger and acquisition that came across his desk, whether it was above board or not. Eric knew how scandalous Russell could be but knew that he could find him a piece of property and get the job done, freeing up time so that Eric could concentrate on the invention and his hard-earned grant. The potential money to be made from the distribution of the device was astronomical as it was on the cutting edge of technological advancements and Russell was quite aware. He wanted in. But at this point, all Eric was willing to do was have Russell close the deal on the building and surrounding land. Russell had other ideas.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and still not a soul stirred in the halls of the abandoned office building. Eric’s stomach cramped up and the bad after-taste of despair lingered in his mouth. Things just hadn’t been going quite right ever since he found the two-story office building and began negotiations to purchase it for his continued research and development. And now this—another upfront expense to bring the building up to code. Having the elevator repaired was just small potatoes compared to the overall work to be done. But the location for his venture was ideal—just on the beginnings of the outskirts in his old neighborhood where he knew numerous community members old and young. His dream, to provide jobs and internship programs for aspiring up-and-coming media professionals—under privileged wannabes—who had the potential to succeed in their chosen field, if only given a chance. Being that he had just been awarded an enormous grant and had been recognized as the entrepreneur of the year in media advancements by the University of Berkeley, he would use the new office space to promote and advance the technology. How do I let Russell know that there is no way I’m letting him buy into this project? I don’t want to hurt him, after all, we do go way back. If only his intentions were honorable or at the very least, unselfish, well, then maybe. But I know his heart is really not into the mission, just his own pocket. Lord, give me the strength to be honest with him right up front and not let this go any further.

Tomorrow, Eric would reluctantly reveal his thoughts about letting Russell buy in—after the close of the escrow, of course. But in the meantime, the ever-apparent quiet in the elevator gave him time to relish in the charitable feelings of bringing hope and prosperity to a struggling Oaktown. Benevolence is better than self-centeredness, he thought. That ought to count for something on God’s score card. Eric needed the points, especially after he’d turned his back on God’s calling. He’d been trying to make amends ever since he’d blown Him off. At least now, he could make amends that wouldn’t actually require him to revisit the commitment he’d made under the influence of youthful intentions—an unfathomable request by God—even six years later.

Another shot at manipulating the stubborn doors seemed in order. Eric braced himself and put all of his might into the effort. Still nothing. His guttural groans erupted into a discouraged growl. The lift shook as he punched his fist into the door leaving a lasting impression in the metal. My God! Can’t anyone hear me? Help! Please! resting the side of his face on the door and massaging is aching fist.

Faint footsteps.

Help! extreme anxiety in his tenor.

Is there someone in here? an apprehensive someone asked.

Eric could hear his heart pounding in his ears. I’m in here! The elevator stopped! Switching eyeballs through the crack in the doors, he gleaned a glimpse of someone out there. Here I am! Please don’t leave! The vulnerability in his own voice shocked him. He thought, I didn’t think I could ever be so helpless.

Are you okay in there?

No. I’ve been in here for about an hour. Can you do something?

Well, no one is here and I didn’t see anyone on the way in but hold on—I’ll be right back.

Wondering what a woman with such a soft-spoken voice could be doing in an abandoned building after eight o’clock at night crossed Eric’s mind. Maybe she’s homeless.

I’ll wait, he answered.

After Eric thought about what he had just said about waiting, he broke out in a loud nervous laugh. He could hear her chuckle too as she headed somewhere down the corridor. Placing his frosty clasped hands up to lips, he lifted his thoughts in thanksgiving, There are no other words…Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

He paced the floor blowing his warm breath into his hands wondering if this had happened to him for a reason and if so, what. Only a few upsetting moments had passed before the woman returned.

See if this’ll help.

Eric moved out of the way as a long piece of rusty metal slid through the gap.

I don’t know. Let me see if I can get it to move, taking the metal strip and wedging it in the opening. He pushed and pulled with all of his strength. With his hands nearly dented to the bone, he could no longer endure the pain.

"Awwww!" the agonizing sound of the metal dropping to the floor intensified Eric’s frustration, the clank ringing his every nerve.

Give it a minute and then try again, the soft voice instructed.

In an attempt to smooth out the painful creases, Eric rubbed his hands together and gave it another shot.

It won’t budge.

I’ll call the police.

You have a phone? wondered a relieved Eric.

Hello, nine one-one? she spoke into her cell phone. There’s a man trapped in an elevator in the abandoned office building on Bradley.

Eric paced the floor as she made her call. Giving in to the exasperation of it all, he flopped down to the floor and pulled his knees up to his chest. He hadn’t realized that cold had an actual smell until now. What he smelled was mold and neglect. It also dawned on him that a homeless person wouldn’t have a cell phone.

They’re on the way.

How can I ever thank you? By the way, what are you doing here at this time of night?

Obviously breaking the law. I know I shouldn’t be here but I didn’t think anyone would find out, she confessed.

Well, obviously, but that still doesn’t answer my question.

Well…I know this might sound silly but, I have a dream of one day opening up a community clinic in this building. So sometimes I like to come here and imagine myself fixing scrapes, wrapping bandages, and just basically helping those who need help.

Silence.

Eric swallowed a huge lump in his throat.

She finished her idea, Tonight, I thought that I would just come down and mentally measure the space in the conference room for seminars and summits, a hopeful glow gracing her pretty face. I’m thinking sort of a learning annex too—you know?

Community Clinic? What a noble idea. That’s very admirable. Are you a doctor?

No, I just finished my board exams and am officially a nurse practitioner, the energized voice proudly remarked.

Wow! Congratulations! Eric enthusiastically commented. Your people must be pretty proud of you.

They are. My parents and grandparents are priceless.

What? No husband?

No husband, she matter-of-factly said. And no boyfriend either, she said with a dampened tone.

Well, anyway, good girl. I’m proud of you too.

Thanks. Can I get you anything? I mean—is there anything else I can do for you? Hey, by the way, what are YOU doing here? It is almost eight twenty at night.

You could hear a pin drop.

A reluctant Eric hesitated to speak the truth about his intentions. He was somewhat perturbed about her dream being bigger and more noble than his.

Oh, just browsing and breaking the law, of course, trying to change the subject. You know, you really should get out of here before the police come. I wouldn’t want you to get arrested.

Oh, don’t worry about me. I know the security guard who frequents the neighborhood and this parking lot. He’ll vouch for me, Sarah said, brimming with confidence. Anyway, I’m more interested in you. Are you hurt, any hypothermia or anything medical setting in?

The sweetness of Sarah’s voice reached into the elevator and warmed his spirit. Eric swallowed the guilty lump in his throat. His Italian loafers had long since lost the battle with the hard coldness of the bare cement floor. He was used to the damp, musky odor by now.

I think I’m okay, just cold as all get out. I can’t feel my feet anymore, though.

Is there anything you can rest your feet on? Try to get them off the ground somehow.

No takers. My nose is starting to run too.

Well, you just hang in there. Rub your hands together to generate some heat.

Eric heard her wrestling with herself in the corridor, feeling a vibration on the elevator door.

What was that? Are you there? he asked.

Eric’s heart melted when he saw her tangerine-colored sweater squishing its way in through the crack.

I was just trying to get my jacket back on, she said. I was getting a bit stuffy in all that clothing.

What a beautiful thing! You didn’t have to do that, he said as he pulled the sweater in through the opening and wrapped it around his shoulders. He secretly wished it were her arms that warmed him.

Shivering with genuine curiosity, Eric wondered, Who is this beautiful stranger and why is she so concerned about me? He then tried to capture mental images of what she might look like. I bet she has long sandy brown hair. She probably wears it pinned up in a ball. I bet her eyes are gentle and caring. I bet she’s precisely five five with soft hands and manicured fingernails. The grape scent seeping from the sweater took him back to his college days when he would visit the nurse’s office on campus. The interior would always smell of fresh-cut summer grapes and this usually gave him comfort and helped whatever injury he had heal sooner.

I can’t believe how generous you are. You have to let me pay you for your time, the sweater, the company, something! Eric insisted as he shivered and shook from his frothy environment.

Nonsense! Don’t be ridiculous. But I would like to know more about the poor trapped soul in my future clinic, she said lightly. She folded her arms, leaned up against the doors, and listened attentively.

I just bought this building. Silence. I’m sorry, dropping his head and sulking simultaneously.

What?

Yeah. I recently won a grant to develop the ViCam unit I created and I needed some space to work.

A staggering quiet gloomed in the air both inside and outside of the elevator.

Well, good for you, Sarah’s voice showing signs of despair and despondency.

Searching his soul for a sympathetic reason, Eric couldn’t think of anything and said the first thing that came to mind. I should be able to do it all from this location, you know, training, marketing, distribution. Silence. It really is an advancement in technology. More silence. It’ll benefit millions. Even more excruciating silence. Reaching for some type of acceptance he offered, It’ll provide jobs for a lot of people right here in the community.

Oh, well, it’s all right then—as long as you’re doing something to help others and not just yourself, brightening her voice a tad. I think that’s wonderful. I’m happy for you, she said as she toed a piece of ripped carpet.

Well, I’ve still got a ways to go, but they’ve allowed me a five million dollar grant for more research and development. They have a lot of faith in it. Another everlasting hush materialized. As do I, sighed Eric who experienced just a tinge of relief. I’m putting together an exclusive contract to hire only local citizens from within a ten mile range. You know, the under-employed, low-income, recent college graduates, even high-school seniors in the technology program, part-timers. We’ll even have interns—the elderly…basically anyone who wants to further their knowledge and contribute to the research and development.

Sarah’s good-hearted nature took precedence over her disappointment and she tried to keep the humanitarianism in her conversation.

It appears that we have the same sort of intentions—to use this building to help the community in our own unique way, a smile bursting through in her voice. I’m just glad to know that someone other than myself actually cares about the people here. I think what you’re doing is terrific! Hey, how are you holdin’ up in there?

Oh, I’m good—cold—but good.

Knowing that he had managed to dash her dreams in one fell swoop, he felt he had nothing else to offer. Reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, he felt a lone tear develop in his eye. He felt awful and was saddened by the thought of ripping her sweet heart apart. He could tell that she was a trooper and did the only thing he felt he had at his disposal.

Here, take this. This sweater must have cost an arm and a leg, he insisted.

Sarah balled up the fifty-dollar bill and popped it back through the crack. Don’t be silly, her heart expressed. That ball of yarn only cost a couple of dollars. It is pretty special, though. I knitted it while I sat and let the children in the orphan wing over at Mercy Community Hospital where I intern, read scriptures to me. They are such angels.

Sounds like you’re the angel in this. How can I ever thank you for everything?

Sarah was indeed curious about this mysterious stranger whom she wanted to believe God had placed in her path.

No need. Just tell me more about yourself.

As much as I hate to say it, I think you should save yourself. Go ahead and leave before you get yourself sick standing out there in that damp hall. Eric reached down to pick up the crumpled bill.

I never catch colds. Vitamin C, y’ know.

I guess. Well, in that case, I’d be interested in hearing about your aspirations.

Sarah got as comfortable as she possibly could against the elevator doors as a sense of peace swept through her despite the chill and the dark outside.

Not much to tell, although I am rather proud to be doing what I feel is God’s work. I am basically a missionary with the sole purpose of using my talents to provide medical attention and whatever comfort I can to others. Right now, I’m in the process of acquiring the influenza vaccination for the low and no income people here in Oaktown. I think it is a crying shame how many lives will be lost just because they couldn’t afford the shot. Terrible memories flooding her mind. Thirty seven people from this area died last year.

A blast of cold shot through Sarah’s bones and made her teeth chatter together. She hung her head in sorrow while she rapidly rubbed the outside of her jacket for warmth still feeling that she was safe in the center of God’s will. She had witnessed God’s amazing grace in everything from the provision of the new nourishment room for the homeless in the back of the cafeteria at the hospital to the abandoned baby whose parents eventually showed up two months later for him to the joy of salvation written in the eyes of the forgotten elderly at Christmas when she handed them each hand-woven scarves and hats. She figured that God had