Not in the Heart Read Online Free PDF

airports, hospital drop-offs are busy places that don’t allow long chats. With my back to her and the door open, my feet on the hot pavement, laptop in my arms, I mulled the decision.
    â€œEllen said something about payment. That you’re prepared to put some money up front.”
    She rummaged in her purse and pulled out an envelope. “It’s made out to you. Probably not what you’re used to, but it’s a start.”
    I took the envelope, but she held on until I was forced to look her in the eyes.
    â€œIt’s taken a long time to get that money.”
    I opened the flap and looked at the check. She was right—it wasn’t even a third of the advance for my last book, but that had been a couple years ago. It was enough to pay some debt. When you have no income and you’re wading through a swamp of bills, anything green is gold. I didn’t have the heart to tell her this is not how it works. You don’t just pay somebody to write your book; there are agents, there are contracts, there are publishers, etc. And it takes at least a year or maybe two from the time you begin. I’ve fast-tracked a few projects, but those are exceptions.
    â€œIf you saved all this, why didn’t you get a writer sooner?”
    â€œThis’ll be hard for you to believe, but God brought this money to me. He impressed it on my heart to save some, but with all the bills and how tight things were, I just couldn’t. But he had a plan. It just kind of dropped on me, and I knew it was supposed to be for a writer to tell the story. And if I had come to you back when you were flying high, I doubt you would have given me the time of day.”
    She let go of the envelope. “I believe we’re prepared for the hard times in ways we don’t even know. ‘For just such a time as this.’ You were meant to be here, Mr. Wiley. You were meant to do this. And I have enough faith in the Almighty to put this in your hands and let it go.”
    That’s a lot of faith.
    â€œIf I decide to do this, when can I meet with him? I have to be on a visitors’ list, approved by the prison. Right?”
    She smiled. “You’re already on it. I’d say we could get you in within the week. The warden isn’t too happy about reporters, though.”
    â€œI’m not a reporter. I’m a friend of the family.”
    â€œThat’s good. And you’re father of the boy Terrelle wants to help.”
    A security guard waved a hand at Oleta to pull forward.
    â€œYou think I’m going to uncover his innocence.”
    â€œThere’s no doubt you’re going to find he’s innocent because that’s the truth. But deliverance doesn’t always look like the prison bars flinging wide open. I’m not expecting a last-minute miracle. I’m trusting in the Lord to do what he does best.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œWork everything for our good.”
    I’d heard it before, but I’d lived something wildly different. God, if he was even up there, had never worked everything for my good. Or for my wife, son, and daughter.
    â€œMr. Wiley, God has a plan. He has a purpose for bringing you here. He brought you low and to the end of yourself so he could start something new.”
    Whoopee. God sure is good. It was all I could do to keep from raising my hands and dancing in the spirit and shouting, “Hallelujah.”
    I stuffed the envelope in the bag, climbed out of the car, then leaned down to the window. “Get a message to your husband. Tell him to write as much as he can remember about the case. Details. Stuff he wants people to know about his life. Last words. Ten life lessons from death row. Anything.”
    Tuesdays with Morrie’s Electric Chair.
    â€œSo you’ll do this?” she said.
    I nodded. “We should put a contract together.”
    The security guard approached with a stride that said he would move us, and he looked