Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Minute(s) (as in time) (03/03/11)
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TITLE: To Race A Clock | Previous Challenge Entry
By Amanda Brogan
03/10/11 -
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Click ... clock.
Click ... clock.
Seconds melting into minutes.
Click ... clock.
Click ... clock.
He stopped a moment and lifted his wrist, mindful that it hadn’t been that long since the last time he’d checked. Eight thirty.
“Half an hour till our morning coffee date.” Caden wondered if his speaking aloud was a subconscious effort to reassure himself. He blew a shaky exhale through pursed lips and resumed his clickity pacing. “You can do this, Caden my boy, you can do this.” His Aussie tongue was barely a whisper, rich and robust like the scent of gourmet coffee that permeated the air outside the café.
Just thirty minutes and she’ll be here. The thought added fuel to his pacing. It seemed that every minute, every hour begged to be counted and logged at the thought of her.
His rapid pace and downward glance thrust him into an unsuspecting pedestrian. “Sorry. My fault.” The young woman cast him an accusing look and went on her way. Caden decided that leaning against the decorative tree in the sidewalk was safer to his fellow sidewalk travelers.
He scratched a nonexistent itch on the back of his sandy blond head. “Okay, so why am I here so early again?” He chuckled and raised his hands in a shrug. “Oh yeah! Maybe it’s called being overzealous. Or maybe I still need to plan out every detail of this thing.”
A glance to the watch. Twenty-five minutes.
His feet started moving again, pacing beside the tree. Toward the café a few steps and back toward the street. Toward the café and then back.
Click-clock, click-clock.
“We’ll go into the coffee house ... wait, first things first. We’ll greet each other, I’ll try not to trip over my own feet at the sight of her ... then we go into the coffee house, get our coffee, chat for a little while, and then I break her the news.” Caden paused and extended his hand as if offering a gift to an invisible person. “‘Jenny’, I’ll say, ‘I’d like you to consider being my permanent ministry partner.’ And just when she thinks I’m only talking about our job at the mission ...” He fingered the tiny silver band in his coat pocket. Its diamond middle tickled his fingertips. “That’s when I set this baby on top of her coffee lid.” He gave the pocket a gentle pat.
Nineteen minutes.
Nothing could curb his joy. Well, except maybe one thing. Jenny’s been awfully worried about the mob threats to the mission lately. But she probably won’t be distracted by that today. After all, we’ve prayed over it and we have a plan in case they try anything. She shouldn’t be worried ...
“Excuse me, sir.”
Caden turned to see a man with black sunglasses staring straight at him. “Yes?” He wasn’t expecting anyone except Jenny. Surely this guy had mistaken him for someone else.
But the man’s gaze was solid, even through the sunglasses. Caden felt the shielded eyes bore into him and he stared back. “Do you know a ‘Jennifer Manson’, sir?”
Caden’s heart froze and he suddenly felt protective. “I do.” The question is ... how do you know her?
“And you were meeting Miss Manson here at nine o’clock, is that correct?”
“Hey, I don’t know how you know these private details –”
“Your mission work has given us a reason to know ... Caden. It’s a threat to our organization.
“Telling people about Jesus is a threat?”
“When it interferes with our business, yes. And we intend to stop it. If your goal is to have future coffee dates with your girl, you’d better be at this address in an hour with a promise to put a halt to your missionary work ... before we do.” The black-shaded man slipped Caden a scrap of paper and disappeared down the sidewalk.
Caden’s heart hammered into his ribs. His mouth turned to leather.
Sixty minutes.
Caden’s shoes no longer mimicked the click-clock of a grandfather clock. Because now he wasn’t eagerly waiting for the minutes to click by. He was racing against them.
He was running.
“Dear Jesus, help me to race!”
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