An Angel for Maxey

Chapter 1

The man appeared suddenly and unexpectedly. Reese had just closed the driver’s side door of his Santa Fe SUV, and before his first step, the man was standing near the rear of his car.

“Good day to you, sir!”

A cheerful, friendly voice. He stood there looking at Reese. He had the impression the man was waiting for him. There was something unusual about the man, but Reese couldn’t quickly define what. He started toward the rear of his vehicle and into the enclosed parking lot’s driveway.

“And a good morning to you … sir,” he replied, uncertainty in his voice.

“Can you tell me, sir, where the Christian bookstore is?”

Reese relaxed a bit. “So happens I’m going right past it. Tag along,” he said, smiling, pushing past his slight discomfort.

The man was as tall as Reese—a couple of inches over six feet. He wore an open white-collared shirt, dark dress pants, and polished, nondescript shoes. In a subtle, quick glance, Reese took in the man’s face: unlined, serene almost to the degree of the mannequins on display in the shopping center they were entering. The man carried an expensive-looking walking cane. Reese did not detect a limp.

There was little traffic in the multilevel parking lot this time of morning, so they walked in the driveway, side by side.

“You know, a man should make his calling and election sure.”

The man had a highly euphonic voice, a dialect Reese could not place. The words echoed a recent sermon of Bishop Padduck’s as he had called sinners and backsliders to, and back to, the Lord. Reese had felt a prick of discomfort at the time.

“Sounds like good advice there,” was all Reese could think to say. He wasn’t quite sure what the stranger meant.

Midway down the drive, they turned right and opened the two large doors leading into the mall. Reese saw the Christian bookstore two shops away on his right.

“I believe that’s the store you are looking for. It’s the only Christian bookstore in the mall that I know of.”

There was a strategic island of books on display just inside of the store, along with a handful of customers and browsers milling about. Reese stopped and turned toward his guest.

“Have a nice—”

“I thank you, my good man, for your help.” He looked at Reese for a second. “Keep your faith in God, Mr. Ma—”

“Maxey. Reese Maxey.” He could have sworn the stranger was about to say Maxey and regretted having spoken too soon.

“Mr. Maxey. There are many diversions in life. But with God’s direction, we arrive at our true calling. Usually God’s help comes through people. In the time of your troubles, Mr. Maxey, remember the chosen. Have a very, very fine day.”

With that, the man turned and, instead of going into the bookstore, started back the way they had come. An odd man. A real odd ball. But Reese felt the impact of the man’s words, a lingering effect. There was more to the man’s words than the mere sermonizing of a lunatic.