Discovering the Miraculous

Join me this Christmas week as we read about the newest book that award-winning author, James L. Rubart has written, and that he is generously offering to share with one of our readers this blessed holiday season. THE CHAIR sounds like the perfect Christmas read. 

James L. Rubart is the best-selling, and award winning author of ROOMS, BOOK OF DAYS, and THE CHAIR. During the day he runs Barefoot Marketing, helping authors make more coin of the realm. In his free time he dirt bikes, hikes, water skis and take photos.  No, he doesn’t sleep much. He lives with his amazing wife and teenage sons in the Pacific Northwest and still thinks he’s young enough to water ski like a madman. More at www.jameslrubart.com

If someone gave you a chair and said it was made by Jesus Christ, would you believe them?

When an elderly lady shows up in Corin Roscoe's antiques store and gives him a chair she claims was crafted by Jesus, he scoffs. But when a young boy is miraculously healed two days after sitting in the chair, he stops laughing and starts wondering . . . could this chair heal the person whose life Corin destroyed twelve years ago?

As word spreads of the boy's healing, a mega-church pastor is determined to manipulate Corin into turning over the chair. And that mysterious woman who gave him the piece flits in and out of his life like a shadow, insinuating it's Corin’s destiny to guard the chair above everything else. But why?

Desperate, he turns to the one person he can trust, a college history professor who knows more about the legend of the chair than he'll reveal. Corin's life shatters as he searches for the truth about the artifact and the unexplained phenomena surrounding it. What’s more, he's not the only one willing do almost anything to possess the power seemingly connected to the chair.

Excerpt from The Chair

By James L. Rubart

On Tuesday afternoon at five thirty, an elderly lady strode into Corin’s antique store as if she owned it and said, “The next two months of your life will be either heaven or hell.”

The corners of her mouth turned up a fraction. It was almost a smile.

“Excuse me?” Corin Roscoe stared at her over the mound of bills in front of him and stifled a laugh.

White hair, deep smile lines etched into her high cheekbones—she had to be at least mid-seventies. Maybe eighty, but she moved like she was in her forties. She wore a dark tan coat that bounced off her calves as she strolled toward Corin, ice blue eyes full of laughter. She didn’t look crazy.

“I’ve brought you the chair, you see.” She stared at him as if that statement would explain everything.

Corin brushed his dark hair off his forehead and slid off the stool behind his sales counter. “What chair?”

The woman looked around the store like a schoolteacher evaluating a new classroom of students. Her eyes seemed to settle on the pile of precisely stacked books from the 1700s.

“I love books, you know.”

Something about her was familiar. “Do I know you?” He took a step toward the woman.

“No.” Her laugh had a tinge of music in it. “I hardly think so.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a fortune-teller, right? And think a little heaven and a little hell is coming my way. Can’t I just subscribe to your newsletter?”

She drew a circle in the air with her forefinger, cherry red nail polish flashing under the halogen lights of Corin’s antiques store. “Probably an interweaving of the two realms. And I believe you’ll discover the hope of restoration. The final outcome will, of course, be your choice.”

Corin smiled. “You know, people think I’m a little crazy because of what I do for fun, but I don’t think I have anything on you.”

She didn’t react; only stared at him, utter confidence in her eyes.

The lady had a sophisticated air about her in contrast with her odd proclamation. Since opening the store in his late twenties, Corin had entertained seven years of the occasional strange customer, but this lady was more than unusual. Her confidence and striking looks made her words almost believable.

“You need it.”

“I think this is the moment you tell me who you are or I kindly ask you to leave.”

The woman gazed out the windows toward Silva’s Ski Shop across the street. “It is with regret that I cannot do that yet, but be assured eventually I will.” The hint of a smile returned. “Now, I must be going, so if you could help me get the chair inside, I will extend you great appreciation.” She motioned toward the front door of the store. “It isn’t heavy, but we will want to be careful. It is priceless.”

Just outside the door a tan sheet covered what must be the chair the lady referred to.

She stared at Corin, waiting, as if there were a contest going on to see who would drop their eyes first.

“I didn’t order a chair.” Corin opened his palms. “Sorry. And wouldn’t you know it? I’m overstocked with them this month already.” He smiled. “Thanks anyway.”

“Listen to me.” She intertwined her fingers, brought her thumbs up under her chin, and pointed her forefingers at him.

“Okay.” Corin chuckled.

“This is a very special chair.”

“I’m sure it is.” Corin cocked his head and winked.

“Don’t mock me.” Her eyes locked on to his.

Corin took half a step back. If her eyes were lasers, smoke would already be curling skyward above his lifeless body. “My apologies. I’m sure your chair is exceptional, but my warehouse on the east edge of town is full of antique chairs that have collected dust for over six months. There isn’t a big demand for chairs in my store right now.”

Corin studied the lady. The lines carved into her light skin hinted of joy and pain, both in full measure. Her eyes, fire a moment ago, had softened and spoke of compassion and longing. Would it hurt to help her a bit?

“If you have any desks, I’ll take a look at those. I could buy two or three, maybe more depending on their condition. And I can take the chair on consignment if you like. No charge whatsoever to display it.”

She looked at Corin as if observing a small child. “You’ve misunderstood. I am not asking you to buy the chair. I am giving it to you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You are to have it.” She motioned again toward the door.

“I am?” Corin slid his hands into his jeans and eased toward the woman. “Who made that decision?”

She stared at him and gave a faint smile but didn’t answer.

“And what if I don’t want this gift?”

“You do.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head for a few seconds. What was she doing? Praying? “You will.”

“You seem confident of that.”

“Most certainly. It is a stunning piece.” She looked down, laid a finger on the edge of a nineteenth-century French walnut side table to her right, and drew her finger slowly across the wood. “It was made by the most talented tekton craftsman the world has ever known.”

“And who would that be?”

“You’ll figure it out, Corin.” She looked back up at him, the knowing smile back on her face. “I believe in you.”

Sounds like a great read doesn't it! If you would like to win yourself a copy, please drop Jim a note here. Perhaps you have a miracle you would like to share with all of us?

Don't forget to leave your email address.