by Ward Wagher
“What will the people think?”
“It might impress them after the junk you've been running around in.”
“That was your junk.”
“So it was. I'm trying to upgrade my fleet. The tourists were complaining about the old stuff, so I thought I'd better do something before they went elsewhere.”
Franklin laughed. “If you're buying new vehicles, business must be improving.”
“Not new vehicles. Newer. Still got to watch every centime.”
“If I knew I was traveling in such style, I would have dressed up.”
“I've seen you dress up, Margrave. I think you're fine as is.”
“Ouch! On that note,” Franklin said. He turned to the guards. “Let's go, boys. To the hospital. I have people to see. You guys get to wait in the car and enjoy the smell of leather.”
All hospitals smell the same. Always have. An essence of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol. It was not unpleasant, but unmistakable for anywhere else. Franklin walked the fourth floor hallway towards Daphne's room. The hospital staff nodded to him as he walked by. Franklin was a familiar face - as was Alex Nesmith, Daphne's fiancé. Louie had provided a permanent room at the Cambridge Arms hotel for Alex. He spent every waking moment sitting in Daphne's room.
Franklin usually made the rounds, visiting Murray Hopper, who was now breathing on his own. Lari Chaplin was recovering from the major damage she received when the shell from the pirate ship blew apart the control runs, as was Emerson Amadia. Today, though, he was anxious to see Daphne first. He was excited about the gift he was bringing.
Franklin stopped in front of the door to Daphne's room and pulled the small cherry box from a jacket pocket. He opened the box and gazed at the magnificent broach Aaron Goldsmith had designed. Franklin once again concluded that the jeweler had outdone himself this time.
He quietly pushed open the door and walked into an empty room. He halted and stepped back into the hall to check the number on the door. Signe was standing in the hallway.
“Oh, Franklin.”
“Where's Daphne?”
“Franklin, she's gone.”
“Gone? Where did they move her to?”
“Come with me.”
Signe took his arm and led him down the hall further to the small lounge across from the stairwell. She pushed open the door and he followed her in. Alex was standing in the room. With him were Glenn and Monica Foxworth. Louie stood in the corner. His tentacles hung motionless at his side. He watched Franklin carefully with his large single blue eye.
“Okay, why the glum faces?” Franklin asked.
Signe reached out and grasped both his arms. “Darling, Daphne passed away.”
Franklin looked and then noticed tears streaming down Alex's face. “Alex, I am so sorry.” He looked at Signe again. “When?”
“Just fifteen minutes ago. No one expected it. We tried to call you, but kept getting your message system.”
Franklin's gaze swept each person in the room. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. Finally, he turned and walked quickly from the room.
Signe followed him. “Franklin wait.”
He stepped across the hall and through another door, and down the steps. Signe followed, calling to him again. At the first floor, he pushed open the emergency exit and walked out into the small park behind the hospital. Signe caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
“Franklin, slow down.”
He stopped and looked at Signe. “She was just an employee. A very good one, but still just an employee. But, why does it hurt so? Signe, why does it hurt?”
“She was your friend!”
“But why did she have to die? It should've been me, not her. She didn't deserve this. I'm the scoundrel, not her.”
Signe pulled him close and put her arms about his neck. “Hush, now. Let's go sit down.”
He followed unresisting to a stone bench next to the flower beds. He still held the small polished cherry box in his hand. “I brought her a little present. You know, to cheer her up. Why did she have to die?”
Signe shook her head. “In the end, I guess she just couldn't overcome her injuries. She passed peacefully.”
“I brought her a present...” he shook his head, not able to complete the sentence. He stared into the distance.
“I'm so sorry, Darling. She was a good friend. To you and me both.”
“I've got to quit acting like a child. Alex needs us.”
“You're not acting like a child. You weren't expecting the shock.”
Franklin looked down at the ground and then around at the surroundings. “I had a long and not very comfortable conversation with Dad when we were out at Sarah's Star. Father Riggs had been talking to him, you know.” Signe's hand tightened on his arm, but he continued. “He told me he wondered if Riggs was right about the God stuff. He was afraid Riggs was right and if he was, then Mother was in hell.”
A sob broke. Franklin bit his lip hard. Signe said nothing.
“I couldn't answer him. I didn't know either. And now I'm wondering...”
Franklin broke into full weeping. He spoke through the shuddering cries. “Here I am bawling like a baby. But Signe, what if Riggs is right? Is Daphne in hell right now?”
Now Signe was weeping as she held on to Franklin. “Darling, I don't know. I just don't know. I talked to her a lot over the past couple of weeks. She listened, but she wouldn't commit.”
“Commit to what? “
“It's one thing to talk about redemption,” Signe said through her tears. “It's another to participate. God is not going to force you against your will. He is offering you the free gift of eternal life. You can do nothing to earn it. You can only accept it.”
“I've never been able to understand this fixation the church has on Jesus. God offers the gift, and I guess I can take it.”
“Jesus paid for it. That's what mankind consistently stumbles over.”
“I guess I'm stumbling over it.”
“This should be the easiest part for you,” Signe said. “It's the relationship between the King and His subjects. You make him your Lord.”
Franklin frowned as he looked down at the grass. “I guess I need to go see Alex.”
“No, you need to work this out.”
It grew quiet for nearly five minutes. Finally Franklin spoke again. “Can you leave me for a bit? I need to think about this.”
She nodded and rose to her feet. “I will wait for you, Darling.”
Signe made her way back to the fourth-floor lounge. Father Riggs had arrived – he had been in Cambridge and the Prime Minister's office managed to track him down.
“He asked me to leave him for a bit,” she said. “He is very upset.”
“I can talk to him,” Louie said. “So sad, the margrave. So sad for Alex too.”
“Thanks, Louie,” Alex said. Maybe I could go with you to talk to him. I feel so useless right now.”
“Let's let him wait a bit,” Riggs said. “Did you talk to him?” he asked Signe.
“Apparently you had a greater impact on his father than you realized, Father.”
“How's that?”
“Franklin related a conversation where his father was badly frightened that his wife was in hell. He didn't want to believe for that reason.”
Riggs grimaced and shook his head. “Talk about being backed into a corner. It sounds like the Spirit is working on both Nymans.”
“I don't know how to get him past that,” Signe said.
“You can't. God can. Let Him work. Before he can fix Franklin, He has to break him.”
“Franklin is certainly carrying a load of guilt right now,” Signe said. “Some of it I'm not sure I understand. Something happened out at Victor that he won't talk about.”
“God certainly worked in my life,” Monica Foxworth said. “I was three quarters of the way around the bend and He got hold of me. And I don't think Bunny has touched the booze since we got back.”
Glenn Foxworth
displayed a one-sided grin. “I don't know if I can give God the credit for that, Father. My daughter emptied the house of all my bottles.”
“Speaking of which,” Monica said, “why not let's all go over to our place. It will be more comfortable and we aren't likely to be interrupted. Would that be all right Alex?”
Alex nodded. “You know, I can't believe she's gone. She was such... an elemental force of nature.”
Monica walked over and hugged Alex. “I'm so sorry.”
“I just cannot believe it.”
“If you want to head on over to your place,” Riggs said, “I'll go find Franklin and ride with him. He's got to have a car around here somewhere.”
chapter forty-seven
“I hate funerals,” Justin Voss said.
He was driving the Foxworths back to their house from the starport.
“A long day, Justin,” Glenn Foxworth said. “And not very satisfying. I mean, I have not been a believer for very long, but a funeral for someone who's soul we're not sure about is disturbing.”
“Father Riggs handled it well, I thought,” Monica said. “I appreciate him more each time I hear him speak.”
“I wonder how the people of Cambridge would react if we started flying up to the village to attend church.” Glenn said.
Monica nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we can ask Riggs to suggest someone to come to Cambridge – although we would have to push someone out then.”
“How about starting a new church?” Voss asked. “There are only three churches for the entire town. There's certainly room for another.”
“Do we have enough people to do that?” Monica asked.
“All it takes is just a few. There's you three, and my family. I'm sure there are some other believers in town who would be interested.”
“What do you think, Bunny?” she asked Glenn.
“I think I'll have a word with Father Riggs.”
“You've been quiet,” Monica said to Signe.
“I'm just worried about Franklin.”
“I think something will happen soon,” Voss said. “He's tearing himself apart with guilt. I don't think I've ever seen anyone under such conviction.”
“Yes, but what will happen?” Signe asked. “I don't think I realized how someone's strengths can work against them. I don't know if it's pride, or stubbornness, or something else.”
“Probably all of the above,” Voss said. “Sometimes the Lord has to use a big hammer.”
“I'm still trying to understand all of this,” Glenn said. “I've reached the conclusion that I can find all the answers I need in the Bible. I just wish I had the time to really study.”
“Bunny, you're spending three or four hours every night in the Bible.”
“But it doesn't seem like enough, my Dear. Besides, every time I come home during the day now, it seems you're looking at it too.”
“But it's just so... exciting. I've never read anything like this before and I can't wait to see what comes next.”
“You put me to shame, you know,” Voss said. “If I get an hour a day in the Scriptures, I feel really proud of myself.”
“Is that a good thing?” Monica asked.
“Probably not,” he laughed. “Pride is a very dangerous thing, and I have a lot of it.”
They pulled up in front of the Foxworth residence.
“Justin, thanks for all the help today,” Glenn said. “I trust you'll send me an honest invoice for the services rendered.”
“Prime Minister! I would never cheat you.”
'That's not what I meant, Justin. I worry that you aren't billing me enough.”
“My wife watches the books, and keeps my naturally generous nature in check.”
“Nice car, by the way.”
“You like it? Just got it in from Caledon. I found a broker there, another believer named Thomas Nitz, who seems to be good at smoking out the deals.”
The Foxworths climbed out of the car. Glenn leaned in to shake Voss's hand. “Thanks again, Justin.”
“Anytime, Prime Minister,” he said.
# # #
As Voss pulled into the parking space, the headlights swept across Franklin Nyman, who was leaning against the wall next to the doorway into the FBO.
“Vagrancy doesn't become you, Franklin,” Voss said as he climbed out of the ground car.
“Yeah, well I'm no better than a hobo. That's for sure.”
“So what brings you to Cambridge tonight?” he looked over at Franklin's aircar. “And no guards, either?”
“I just slipped out. Everybody thinks I went to bed.”
Voss slipped his key-card into the slot and pulled the door open. “Come on in. I have raging need for some coffee. It's been a long day and it's not over yet. Been kind of busy lately.”
“Some coffee would go good, if you don't mind sharing.”
“Not at all, Franklin. Even the itinerant hobo deserves a good cup every now and then.”
Franklin stood with his hands in his pockets and watched silently as the coffee drizzled into the carafe. Voss busied himself in the office – straightening paperwork on the counter, organizing the key-cards for the vehicles, walking back into the shop to look around. Then he seemed to be standing right next to the machine when it dinged completion.
“You timed that about right, Justin.”
“Lots of practice.”
Voss poured two cups and motioned Franklin into his office. “Siddown, Franklin.”
Franklin sipped from the cup and leaned back in the chair with a sigh. “It's been a long couple of weeks, Justin.”
“I understand you've been busy.”
“Oh, that too.” Franklin said. “But mainly watching my life collapse around me.”
“You've been very successful of late. You recovered the Foxworths, and beat the pirates.”
“And killed my friends. Even killed my enemies. You said I could come and see you when I needed to talk, right?”
“I said that.”
“Did you mean it?”
Voss stared into the haunted face of the Margrave of Montora. “You look like you need to talk. And yes, I meant it.”
Franklin sat quietly again as he sipped his coffee. Voss pulled a printed Bible out of his desk drawer and paged through the folio volume as he waited.
“I killed someone, Justin.”
“I wouldn't call destroying a shipload of pirates, murder, Franklin.”
“No, before that. When we were at Victor. I ran into somebody I knew from the Navy. I saw her as a threat to the mission and I killed her.”
“She attacked you?”
“No, she was just sitting across from me in a bar.”
“What was somebody from the Navy doing out there in that nest of pirates?”
“She was on the run. She was not a nice person, Justin, but the look on her face.” Franklin gulped. “I slipped a knife between her ribs, and then worked it around until I was sure I had sliced her heart to ribbons.”
“If she was consorting with the pirates, and recognized you...”
“You don't understand, Justin. It was the look on her face. Not just the shock and fear. She knew she was dying and she looked at me like I needed to rescue her. And I leaned over and whispered to her that she deserved everything she was getting. And now I see that face, that look, every night in my dreams.”
“Why do you feel guilty?” Voss asked.
“Because I sent her to hell, Justin! And because I wasn't back here doing my job three weeks ago, I sent Daphne there too.”
“So what do you propose to do about it?” Voss asked.
“I came to see you. You made me promise.”
Voss nodded. “Take a look here. This is Matthew 10:28 in the New Testament. It says not to fear those who can kill the body, but the one who can kill the soul in hell.”
“I see that, Justin, and I think I agree. But it doesn't help me a whole lot. I mean I caused it.”
“I wanted you to see that killi
ng the body is not the issue. Everybody dies eventually.”
“So you're saying murder is not wrong, then?”
“Don't put words in my mouth,” Voss said. He smiled to take away the sting. “I'm simply saying we all have to deal with what comes after life. That's God's province.”
“So you're telling me that God sends people to hell?”
“God rescues people from hell.”
“If God doesn't do it, how do people get there?”
“We're all on our way there, Franklin. It's the result of sin.”
“It doesn't seem fair somehow.”
“If we judge things by our standards, it's easy to decide it's not fair. But by God's standards, we're all guilty. Right now, you are simply recognizing God's judgment on your life. And you are right – you are guilty. We all are.”
“You are not leaving me any openings, Justin.”
“Have you heard of the Apostle Paul?”
Franklin took another sip of his coffee as he thought. “He wrote some of the New Testament, didn't he? Supposedly he was a great man.”
“Right. Paul said that Jesus Christ died to save sinners, of whom he was chief. That is the essence of what we call the Gospel. This is God's message to man. It makes no excuses for what we are or what we deserve. But, it offers a rescue.”
“A dead man?”
“A live God. Jesus was God's son. He was God. He was killed - murdered, if you will – by sinful men. But God raised him from the dead. He sits in heaven next to his Heavenly Father. He will return again someday to rule the universe. And he offers to redeem you from your sin.”
Franklin smiled. “The redeemer.”
“Yes, but He is much more. He is the Redeemer of the human race. And He is the Lord of creation. And He has reached out to you, Franklin. You have, but, to place yourself in His hands.”
“That's all there is?”
“Nothing more; nothing less. You simply have to recognize you are lost and that he can rescue. You submit to His authority.”
“That seems too easy.”
“If it keeps you from accepting Him, it's not too easy, is it?
