Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,99

CI. But now? Now Alejo barely even knew who he was. So much had changed.

“I’m…really messed up, Rupert. What you’re saying is all I want to do. But I need help.”

“I know,” Rupert said simply. “These are hard times. What would you say if we prayed, right now?”

Alejo blinked. “Ok.”

When Rupert had finished praying, Alejo felt too weak to get up just yet. “I just need some time…” he started to say hoarsely, but Rupert was already heading out of the vineyard. “Take a half-hour,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Then I’ll be back. We have plenty of time to discuss details about CI later. There is one thing we have to talk about now, though. It’s going to be good, son.”

Alejo couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn that, just before Rupert turned to go, he had winked.

The half hour alone under the grape leaves was intense, and Alejo prayed and thought, trying to get his bearings. He felt so relieved, being forgiven by Jesus. But there were so many things that were still messed up, other people he had hurt.

Right now, I’m thinking mainly of Wara and my family.

An image of Noah Hearst’s very pale, grieving parents flashed through his mind and he sighed. There didn’t seem to be much he could ever do to make it right with them.

Alejo closed his eyes, listening to the sound of songbirds in the fruit trees outside the grape arbor. Fallen grapes fermenting in the sun gave off the essence of sweet red wine. Rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves and warmed his face.

I can see.

It amazed him again, and he remembered the despair he had felt in Univalle, when he woke up and realized everything was black.

Alejo thought about the cool steel of the Khan’s gun against his temple, the hurt of betrayed love in the Pashto man’s red eyes as he stared Alejo down. He couldn’t remember the actual shot, but he was sure it should have been lethal. God had let him live, and brought him here, to this place, to another follower of Jesus who seemed to understand everything he was going through.

A dry crunching sounded outside the canopy of grape leaves; The hanging greenery parted, and Rupert ducked inside, downing something from an ancient olive-green thermos with golden paisleys. Another red plaid thermos was in his other hand, which he held out towards Alejo.

“Coffee,” he said briefly, taking another swig. “You might as well know, I’m an addict.”

“Thanks.” Alejo unscrewed the lid of the thermos and took a drink of the bitter liquid. Rupert really did make strong coffee.

Another perk of working with him---along with the fact that he had dreams of the future and seemed to hear directly from God.

Rupert downed more coffee, then stiffly sat down in the grass at a comfortable distance from Alejo. “Ah, what are we doing here hiding out under the leaves and sitting in the muck like kindergartners?”

Alejo grinned.

“I have a slew of chairs over on the porch. But it is kind of nice in here, isn’t it? All shady…” Rupert settled in a little, then faced Alejo squarely.

“The time is coming to ask all your questions, but I want you to work with me. If you accept, I would like to propose a time of discipleship here, at the farm. What that means is learning to follow Jesus, to be a disciple. We would spend three months together, along with the other guys who come in and out of here, and I’d teach you everything I’ve learned over the years. Do you think I would drive you batty?”

“Maybe.” Alejo paused. “But I need it. I’m kind of starting from scratch. Even if you find out later I don’t meet your requirements to work in CI, I think I really need to stay here. Since you’re offering.” He felt his mouth tip into a lopsided smile. Rupert seemed pleased.

“I’m offering. After the three months, you would go on an exploratory trip with some of my lukes, to open your eyes a little to what we do and help you decide if you want to join. I want you to know, too, that we can help your family. I’ll tell you about that later, some very nice options of places they can settle. I would love to meet them. But, about Wara…”

“I really messed her life up, too,” Alejo muttered. His relief was intense at the idea of someone helping him resettle his family and Wara somewhere safe. “Can