Hope vs Hope: The Fight for Lilly

By M. A. Henry

Angels. Demons. An eternal battle. Two kidnapped girls. A desperate search. The local churches unite in prayer but will it matter? They have hope that it is not too late. Hope that God will rescue these precious children. Hope against hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: Dec 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781640884403

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Hope vs Hope

The Fight for Lilly

M. A. Henry

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive

Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright © 2019 by M.A. Henry

All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise noted, taken from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotations marked (KJV) taken from The Holy Bible, King James Version. Cambridge Edition: 1769.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

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Trilogy Christian Publishing/ TBN and colophon are trademarks of Trinity Broadcasting Network.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Trilogy Christian Publishing.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Trilogy Disclaimer: The views and content expressed in this book are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect the views and doctrine of Trilogy Christian Publishing or the Trinity Broadcasting Network.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

B-ISBN#: 978-1-64088-439-7

E-ISBN#: 978-1-64088-440-3

Acknowledgments

I want to thank my husband, Rick, for his loving support through every part of this journey. To my family and friends, thank you for the support of a lifetime. My dear friends, Julie and Maggie, thank you for all the prayer support. To my dear friend, Lisa, I owe you my undying gratitude for listening to my storytelling for years and for being the first person to read this book. My special thanks to Donna Ladd for years of writing classes that made my journey much easier. Most of all, I thank the Lord Jesus Christ who gave me the vision, ability, and strength to write this book. May all the glory go to Him.

Chapter 1

June 2006, Monday morning

Hello, Reverend Watkins. Isn’t this a beautiful morning? Claire Adams was checking Nannie’s vital signs and IV fluids.

It sure is, Claire. How’s my favorite lady doing?

Claire shook her head and mouthed the words, Not good, not much longer.

Turner Watkins caressed Nannie’s thin worn hands gently. Those hands said it all. Thirty-five years of untiring service at the elementary school, especially to her fourth-grade students. Even more years serving the church in every possible way from making meals to take to the new mothers, sick members, and grieving families to counseling new converts to babysitting for church members as needed for no charge.

Of her own initiative, she taught two weekly Bible studies in her home—one class on Tuesday mornings at ten and another one on Thursday nights at 6:30 p.m. Many attended both because they loved hearing the stories she told and the way she talked about God. She loved Jesus Christ so much. It showed in her every action, smile, and kindness.

She shared some deep truths while they ate her buttery Bundt cakes and drank her mellow coffee. She taught the wisdom of God’s Word, always teaching a Bible precept, sharing scriptures, and relating it to her own life experience.

She taught these classes for about twelve years that all ended when she moved into the rehab center after her first stroke. However, she did not give up serving her church; she was assuredly their most faithful intercessor. Turner Watkins always brought her a list of prayer requests from their weekly services. Even when she reached the point of not being able to talk well, her eyes would light up when he handed her the list.

Everyone called her Nannie. She disliked her first name, Barbara. Said it was too stiff. She used her middle name, Nan. Now seventy-seven years old, she was ready to give up her tired, weary body. The first stroke happened a little over eight years ago, but she never fully recovered. She lost the use of her left arm and left leg. Two years later, she had a serious fall at the rehab center and injured her spine. She lost the use of both legs. That’s when she was moved to the nursing home. Then two months ago, she had a severe heart attack. Now she had a respite nurse in addition to Claire. Her heart had finally worn out. She had lived this long only because of her strong will.

Turner had been visiting her every Monday morning for seven years since he had become the pastor of the little Antioch Baptist Church. He was a perfect picture of faithfulness in little things. He’d read some scriptures to her and her family letters. Mainly, they talked about the Lord for they loved Him so.

He knew from visiting with Fran, one of Nan’s granddaughters, that Nannie had two children—a daughter, Evelyn, who lived in Destin, Florida, and a son, Fran’s father, Melvin, who was deceased. Fran had twin brothers, Drew and Davis, who moved to Texas and owned a construction business together. Becca was Nan’s other grandchild, Evelyn’s only child. Becca was a world traveler. He didn’t remember what she did for a living. Fran would handle all the details for the funeral since she lived in nearby Tallahassee and would contact all the family members.

Good morning, Ms. Nan. How are you today? Can I do anything for you at all? asked Turner so clearly and sweetly but with grave concern.

She opened her eyes, smiled a bit, and turned her head toward her bedside table. Turner knew what she wanted—the tiny metal frame with a school photo of Becca at age six. She cherished that photo. He placed it in her hand.

Nurse Claire loved that photo too. It reminded her of her own dear daughter, Kaitlyn, who was barely six. Claire smiled as she watched Turner simply spending time with her favorite patient. She knew his tender kindness meant much more to Nan than the occasional, obligatory family visits.

Turner remembered reading Becca’s occasional letters to Nannie during the first few years of his visits, but the letters had stopped coming several years ago. Turner knew Nannie worried a great deal about Becca. Her last stroke had made her speech difficult, and her dementia had become awfully bad now. She was often confused about here and now but seemed to remember past events more accurately.

Turner understood that Becca was Nannie’s heart. She loved all her grandchildren, but Becca was the apple of her eye. The last letter from Becca had been from Rome, Italy. Turner hoped that Fran might know how to reach Becca though he doubted she would make it back for the funeral. Nannie was falling asleep, still clutching the photo to her heart, breathing heavily. Turner thought it looked like she was moving her lips in a silent prayer. He wondered if she was praying for Becca right now.

*****

In the corner of the room stands Averil, a radiantly glowing angelic spirit with what looks like a ray of sunshine enshrouding her. She is small, just a bit over three feet tall but quite strong. She has beautiful wings like a butterfly—sturdy and colorful. She loves to flutter on the winds of the Holy Spirit. She is assigned to escort Nannie’s spirit home, so she is waiting patiently. She will have to let her superiors know about faithful, loving Nan’s dying request.

She knows it will be an enormous challenge to fulfill Nan’s last wish, but Averil is certain her request will be granted.¹ Averil is so sure because she has been listening to Nannie’s prayers for Becca for the last few months as she guards her vigilantly. Her ceaseless knocking on heaven’s doors will not be ignored. Averil had witnessed countless times God’s miraculous answers to such intensely, desperate prayers. Averil knows, just like Nannie, that with God, all things are possible.

*****

Becca answered her cell midafternoon knowing when she saw it was her cousin Fran, it was an update on Nannie. Hey, Frannie, how are you?

Sad, Becca. I guess you got my text last month that Nannie had taken a turn for the worse. Well, she passed away this morning a little after noon. We are having the funeral at her church this Wednesday at 1:00 p.m. Do you think you can make it here by then?

Becca choked up but said, Oh, Fran, I can’t believe it. I thought Nannie would pull through like always. We are in New York, so I’ll fly home, and I will arrive there in the morning.

Well, it will be so good to see you. It’s been forever since you’ve been home, Becca. I’ve still got tons of calls to make, but we’ll catch up when you’re here. See you soon.

Becca pulled herself together and went to Reuben’s study and gently knocked on the door. She knew better than to barge in unannounced.

Come in. What is it? he asked her, not bothering to look up from his computer.

She walked around the desk to stand by his side. My cousin, Fran, just called. My grandmother died around noon today. I’d like to go home to Tallahassee for her funeral. It’s on Wednesday at 1:00 p.m. I’d like to fly there tomorrow. Is that okay with you?

Reuben looked up and put his hand tenderly on Becca’s back rubbing her softly. I really am sorry about your grandmother, baby. Sure, you can go. No problem. I think we should go to Miami later this week anyway. I am about to close a major deal, and we should celebrate.

He smiled at her seductively. It’s been too long since we really relaxed and enjoyed each other. I’ll fly you there tomorrow then head on to Miami. You can catch a plane and join me in Miami when you’re ready.

Becca leaned down to Reuben and kissed him passionately. Thanks, Reu. Knew you’d understand.

Yeah, baby, he said as he patted her bottom. I get it. You’ve never asked to go home once. This is fine with me.

They hugged tightly and kissed passionately again before she left him working on the major deal—whatever it was. His import/export business was of no interest to her at all. She just knew he had some very rich clients who enjoyed collecting rare antiquities. Though she was expected to know all about art, wine, music, and cultural events so she could make interesting conversation when they entertained his important guests. She had no real interest in his business otherwise. He never discussed business with her; he preferred honoring his clients’ wishes for privacy. Becca only cared that it kept them rich and satisfied.

She cried as she packed her bags with her favorite black dress and formal black high heels. Nannie had been her lifeline growing up. She threw in two casual outfits and her gold sandals. She picked a comfortable dress to wear on the flight to Miami. She showered still crying and changed into a blue lace gown. She shook off her grief, poured a glass of a vodka, and watched an old movie on TCM while she waited for him. She drank far too much these days.

He was the most sensual man she had ever been with, and their lovemaking was always exhilarating. Tonight, he wanted to leave her wanting more of him as she fell asleep. He knew she would miss him while she was away. They fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms.

Chapter 2

Monday night

Holly groaned as she rolled over in her bed. She was immersed in her hurt. She cried out in her mind, Why does it always hurt so bad? as she wept silently. She felt that hurt whenever he climbed into her bed. He never cuddled her. He never ever touched her gently. He used her like a dirty washrag. At least, it didn’t last that long.

Her heart ached for her momma’s arms. Occasionally, he would pat her head much like you pat the head of your good ole dog. His touch just echoed her loss. But it stirred in her a vague memory of a sweet momma who lovingly rocked her and a strong daddy who proudly carried her on his shoulders. She couldn’t remember their faces anymore, but she held on to the feeling of loving someone and being loved.

She knew she had been with him for four years now. He had given her a cupcake every year with a candle in it on May 10; he told her that was her birthday. She had blown out a candle each time making the same wish. Home. I want to go home.

He often reminded her that she was now eight years old. As in, Stop ya crying, you brat. Yar a big girl of eight now. It can’t hurt ya that bad. It’s only natural.

She missed her momma the most on nights like these. Holly cried as quietly as she could. He was now snoring in his bed across the room. Whenever Holly felt hopeless, Holly prayed he would take her to Momma. The man told her that both her momma and daddy were in heaven. Holly desperately wanted to be with them again. Still, she hoped that maybe she had a grandma looking for her. Maybe she would want her.

Holly knew he would never stop hurting her or ever let her go to school or ever be really kind to her. He treated her like she was nothing. She did everything he told her to do, never questioning him or daring to argue. In truth, Holly was less than a person to him. She was more like an object he just owned and used.

He slapped her frequently the first few weeks. If she cried at all, he whipped her. She developed a quick response to all his demands, Okay. No drama, no pain, no need for him to pay attention to her at all. Just tell him what he wants to hear.

She stopped being chatty because it annoyed him. She learned to smile all the time but stopped looking alert unconsciously. He always made her bathe herself at night before bed. What he didn’t know was she also bathed in the morning to get rid of the smell of him. He was cruel to her but at times he was nice, letting her pick what fast food they would eat while on the road. However, this man did not really know kind.

She was always careful not to cry too loud during sex. He hated her crying and would hit her very hard for it. Holly would just close her eyes, tense her body to take it, and let the tears flow right down her face. He never seemed to notice. In her mind, she could see a small park with big trees and an old swing set where she would swing and sing. If she closed her eyes tightly and tried hard, she could hear herself singing, Jesus loves me this I know. Holly knew it was a real place. But she couldn’t remember her momma’s or daddy’s face.

This night, Holly prayed fervently that Jesus would help her find a way to escape from the man without him knowing it. She prayed he would never find out how she escaped or where she went. She feared he would catch her again and things would be even worse. The older she became, the more she thought about ways to get out. At times, it just seemed so hopeless. Holly cried silently.

*****

It sits in the corner snickering. This entity of evil loves stealing innocence. It knows how much that pleases its master to have complete control over young ones. Cully, this foul creature, has been rewarded and given much power over the centuries.² It has a horny-toad face, deeply hunched shoulders, slick oily-looking skin, and a back like a lizard. It is barely four feet long including its stumpy tail. His large gray wings are folded shut and as thin as the wings of a bat. So gray, it is almost colorless.

Cully will mount on the man’s back when he is awake with its claws embedded behind his ears. At night, he will interfere with his dreams by whispering in his ear. It constantly feeds this ignorant but shrewd man insidious bits of cruelty and hatred. Cully grins as it listens to Holly’s cry. Nothing delighted it more than the pain of an innocent. Cully is a constant torturer who controls the man’s heartless ways. It took possession of him when he was just a child.

Chapter 3

Tuesday morning

It is a perfect summer day in Tallahassee. The warm breeze gently sweeps through the still sleepy old Florida town. It rattles the backyard swing beckoning Lilly to come play for a while. Lilly skips out the backdoor smiling and happily singing to herself, carefree. Happy with herself and the world as she knows it. She has a beautiful cherubic face, clear deep-blue eyes, curly blonde hair, and a contagious smile. She is four and a half years old, sweet and sassy, still eager to please, and as smart as any six- or seven-year old because she learns everything from Collin, her older brother, age nine, whom she adores.

She is talking clearly in complete sentences while she is still two. She is very curious and always pesters Collin for answers to her why questions. Her mother, Lydia, is a former kindergarten and first-grade teacher. She has been able to keep Lilly’s busy mind occupied all the time much to her own enjoyment. Sometimes right before she turned three, Lilly knows her numbers from 1–20, all the shapes, every conceivable color, and not only to recognize the alphabet but is learning their sounds. Lilly loves math. She is now reading simple books and working basic addition and subtractions problems.

Lilly is the second child in the Owens family’s brood of four. Her mother, Lydia, had recently brought home the newest members of the family. The twins, Allie and Annie, had been born nearly three months prematurely and had fought for their survival during the past four months but are doing quite fine now.

Collin, Lilly’s big brother, is a quiet, thoughtful, nine-year old. He will be ten in a month. He loves to read and play his Game Boy, especially Dr. Mario. Collin is tall for his age. With light-brown hair and deep-brown eyes, he is a cookie-cutter image of his dad. He is extremely bright and does very well at school.

This morning, Collin is sitting propped against a mimosa tree quite lost in his Dr. Mario world steadily defeating the obstacles as they come. He is outside as per his mother’s instructions to keep an eye on his little sister. Collin knows Lilly’s first stop after breakfast is the swing set. He also knows he’ll have to get her started, but then he’ll have sometimes almost a half an hour of no distractions.

Coll-ll-in, Lilly sings. Puu-ssh me! Pleeease!

Collin sighs and pauses the game. Okay, Lilly, I will push you really hard and get you started but that’s it! If you jump out, you will have to get yourself started again. Okay?

Lilly smiles at him and nods eagerly, all perched in the seat with her legs positioned and her toes pointed so they would just scrape the ground as he pushes her off. She presses her toes hard against the hot, dry grass as Collin gives her the first push. She pumps her sturdy little legs as fast as she can, working them with the rhythm of the swing.

Collin gives her a few strong pushes, and the wind seems to pick up at just the right moment so that Lilly can almost touch the top branches of the mimosa tree she so loves to climb. She is singing her favorite Disney song, Winnie the Pooh, as Collin returns to his game.

Lydia had just finished giving the twins their morning baths and had put Allie down for her nap. Annie is fighting sleep as usual, so Lydia settles into her rocker. She turns the rocker to face the window keeping her eye on the older two outside. She can see Lilly swinging and singing with Collin close by playing his game. That will keep them both busy for a while.

Annie nuzzles into her breast and begins fussing. Lydia quickly lifts her blouse and unsnaps the nursing bra. Annie latches on and eagerly nurses for several minutes. Lydia snuggles and rocks her gently knowing this precious one will be asleep in minutes. But Annie is stubborn when it comes to sleep. Lydia will have to hold her and let her stay on her breast for ten more minutes until she is finally in a deep sleep. Then Lydia can slip the pacifier in her mouth and lay her in the crib. Lydia closes her eyes and rocks.

All three of the girls have blue eyes just like hers. Lilly has her blonde hair and fair skin. She wonders if the twins would look more like Collin or Lilly. She loves this feeling, rocking her baby. She finally had them at home. She loves holding her babies in her arms after all those months of waiting. But she is so tired. They are up every two to three hours crying for her breasts. Nursing both twins is a challenge. After six days of it, she’d learned to nap whenever they were both sleeping which isn’t often.

*****

Tenare’ stretches his massive wings, like an eagle’s wings but much larger and stronger, and flutters them just a bit to keep the wind stirred for Lilly. Standing about 9 ½ feet tall, he is powerful and sinewy with a solid chin, penetrating brown eyes, long golden-brown hair, and a bronzed, hued