Read Online Makin' Miracles by Lin Stepp - Free Book Online

minister was leaving—and that he was going to Charleston—when you shook his hand?” Spencer lifted an eyebrow in question.
    â€œI did. It was very clear.” She turned her eyes toward his. “And I don’t like you calling me a fortune-teller, Spencer Jackson.”
    â€œAren’t you?”
    She frowned at him. “No, I’m not. A fortune-teller, to quote Madame Renee’s advertising, is a person ‘who foretells your personal future—who uncovers your desires, wishes, and dreams, who finds the answers you’ve been seeking.’ ” She turned angry eyes to Spencer. “And all for only a small fee.”
    She saw Spencer wince.
    Zola blew out a breath. “The tellings of a fortune-teller don’t come from God, Spencer. That’s the big difference. They come from a person, who may or may not mean well. And who may or may not be right in her fortune-telling arts.”
    She twisted the straps of her handbag in her lap. “A fortune-teller provides her arts on demand—and for a fee. A Christian seer gets wisdom or knowledge about some current or future event only as God wills it and never takes money for it. The gift of knowing is given as God chooses—and usually for some purpose or reason.”
    Zola saw Spencer thinking about this. “So, why do you think God told you the minister might be moving?”
    She thought for a minute. “I don’t know exactly. Perhaps to seed the idea to Reverend Madison that Perry Ammons should be asked to fill in as interim pastor and maybe even become the next pastor.” Zola considered this thoughtfully. “Perry Ammons is the part-time youth pastor right now and Perry has a deep faith. I’ve heard him preach when he fills in for Reverend Madison. I admit, I never considered it before, but I think Perry would be very good for the church.”
    Spencer steered his SUV artfully around a lane of blocked traffic on Gatlinburg’s main highway through town. “I think I’ve met Perry Ammons at breakfast at the Garden Café with Tanner Cross and some other guys. They have some sort of regular get-together there every week.”
    He paused to let a pedestrian cross in front of his car. “Isn’t Perry Ammons the one who has the wedding chapel on the Cosby Highway?”
    Zola nodded. “Yes. Perry and his wife have a nice wedding chapel. But he served as a pastor in a church before he came back here to live. He is an ordained minister, you know.”
    Spencer looked over at her. “Do you think he has the right ordination? Most churches are kind of picky about that sort of thing.”
    Zola watched the tourists thronging down the sidewalk of Gatlinburg on a Sunday afternoon. “I don’t know, Spencer. I didn’t get that.” She felt a little silly then.
    â€œYou know what?” Spencer laid a hand on her knee and patted it. “I wouldn’t worry about it. If, as you said, God had a reason for you to say what you did, then He’ll work it out.”
    She looked over at him in surprise, comforted. “That’s very wise, Spencer. Thank you.”
    As they came to a turn in the road, Zola gave him directions.
    They drove along quietly for a few minutes, and then Spencer spoke again. “It must be hard sometimes, doing what you do. I’m sure people get mad at you a lot and don’t understand. I certainly got mad.”
    He grinned, remembering it, but then turned troubled eyes toward her. “You know, I actually think it might be dangerous what you do sometimes. What if someone tried to hurt you? Got really angry or was threatened by something you knew? It could happen.”
    Zola considered this and shrugged.
    Spencer slowed to a near halt in the Gatlinburg traffic and turned to catch Zola’s eyes. “Has anyone ever threatened you, Zola?”
    She smiled at him, wanting to lighten the moment. She didn’t want him worrying