On Every Side

by Karen Kingsbury

  Jordan studied the tombstone again. Jesus, most of all… Jesus, most of all. Jesus, most of all…

  His mind flooded with images of his dying mother, of Heidi driving off with the social worker—and Jordan's heart steeled itself again with determination. What good had Jesus done for his mother? For him or his sister? For that matter, what good had He done for the Moses family? Faith and her parents and sister had lived for God, trusted in Him, depended on Him, and where had it gotten them? Bob Moses was buried just as deep under-ground as Jordan's mother. Two people who loved God more than life, yet here they were. Their lives cut short by the very same God they'd spent a lifetime serving.

  He stared at the roses in his hands and scanned the burial grounds. The image of a willow tree appeared in his mind and he looked over one shoulder, then the other until he saw it. There, at the back of the cemetery…the pauper's section, where they buried people with little money People forgotten over time. Jordan clenched his teeth and strode in that direction, not stop-ping until he found it. The white marker was dirty, dulled by the years and neglected. Weeds—though cut back—grew around the plot.

  Tears stung at Jordan's eyes. Mom…

  He knelt and laid the flowers on the ground, noticing how they dwarfed the small stone. “Evelyn S. Riley mother.” That was it; all that was left to remember her by. Jordan ran his fingers over the rough marker and ached to have her at his side again, yearned once more to be the boy who would run home from school and share his day with her, feel the validation of her hug.

  Jordan pictured her, pretty and petite, a brown-haired woman whose hardships in life he'd known nothing about because she'd never once complained about them. Jordan's father had aban-doned them before he and Heidi were out of diapers. Two years later police notified his mother that Earl Riley had been killed in a head-on collision with a cement wall. Drunk and out of work, behind the wheel of a stolen car. Jordan's mother had been care-ful to spare him and Heidi the sordid details, but after she died— when Social Services stepped in and took them—the facts were repeated before judges and social workers a number of times.

  “Jesus will take care of us, kids… don't you worry about us… “

  His mother's words rang simply, sweetly through the whispering fronds of the willow tree, as though she were still speaking them now. A teardrop rolled off Jordan's cheek and landed on the grave marker and he rubbed it with his fist, cleaning off some of the dirt.

  Jesus. Jordan released a short laugh. Yes, lot of good He'd done. Left Jordan's mother to raise two kids alone, then sat back and watched while she died of cancer. What kind of God would let that happen?

  “I'm going home, Jordan… this isn't my home and it isn't yours, either. Cling to Jesus, son… Don't let walls grow around your heart because I'm sick… because I'm sick… because I'm sick. “

  His mother's words ran across his heart again and again. His poor, sweet, gullible mother. There was no God and no heaven. Only lonely, old cemeteries where people such as Evelyn Riley and Bob Moses lay rotting beneath the earth's surface.

  “Jesus loves you, son.”

  Right. Jordan wiped his cheeks, stood up, and stared once more at his mother's tombstone. “I miss you, Mom.” His voice came out in a strained whisper, which was all he could manage under the burden of his emotions. “If you can hear me, if you can see me… I miss you.” A sob lodged in his throat and he swal-lowed it back. “I'm trying to find Heidi, but I'm not sure how. I wish…”

  He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't bring himself to say that he wished the God she had so strongly believed in had been real after all, and that if He were real, He might have cared about them as much as his mother believed. If He were, if He had… maybe she could ask Him to help find Heidi.

  But it was all a batch of fanciful stories and groundless traditions. Jordan bent down and touched the stone once more. “Good-bye, Mom. I still love you.”

  He turned and made his way out of the cemetery, back toward his motel… back to consider whether he would file a law-suit against Bethany that afternoon. He would lock himself in his room, lay out the briefs he'd written, and make a decision, once and for all.

  He drove back along Main Street and—

  Jordan slammed on his brakes, nearly causing a pileup. Waving his apology at three drivers, he pulled to the side of the road and stared. There it was—a block from the old neighbor-hood—Jericho Park and the infamous Jesus statue.

  He climbed out of his car, crossed the street, and found the bench he'd been so familiar with sixteen years ago. A bench just five feet from the statue. As he sat, his eyes were drawn to the lifelike expression in the carved eyes. Powerless against the pull, Jordan felt himself drifting back in time.

  He could see his mother, stirring a pot of soup on the stove and smiling at him. “You know what?” The memory of his mother's voice rang in his heart. “My favorite place in town is Jericho Park and the Jesus statue.”

  The Jesus statue… the Jesus statue… the Jesus statue. Jordan closed his eyes and pictured himself a ruddy-cheeked teenage boy riding his bike to this spot, this very bench…night after night after night… to his mother's favorite spot.

  Begging God to let his mother live.

  He blinked and saw the statue the way he had as a boy the arms beckoning him, the eyes seeming to know his pain. And suddenly it wasn't one memory or two, but a whole flood of scenes and voices all taking Jordan back in time to the days when he had actually believed they would all live happily ever after.

  Six

  T he house had belonged to Earl Riley's family. Otherwise there would have been no way Evelyn Riley and her two children could have afforded to live on Oak Street. They'd lived in a one-bedroom apartment until word came that Jordan's father was dead. Jordan was five at the time and though he didn't remember Earl or the policemen who came to the door that afternoon, he remembered what happened next.

  There was a party—at least it had seemed like a party—and everyone was paying special attention to him and Heidi. A fancy lady with a feathered hat spent much of that day bawling and fussing over his mother, saying things like, “You poor dear” and “I had no idea Earl wasn't taking care of you.”

  Back then Jordan hadn't been sure what it all meant, but a little while later he and his mother and Heidi moved into the house on Oak Street. “It's a gift from your grandma,” was all his mother would say Often Jordan wondered why his grandma had given them a house but never came to see them or stay for dinner. It all made sense now, of course.

  Jordan blinked and felt the chill of a breeze against the back of his neck. His father had been the black sheep, the boy-gone-bad from a wealthy, upper-crust family in Philadelphia. His father's father had died in his fifties of a stroke, and Jordan guessed that his grandmother hadn't known a thing about him or Heidi or their mother until the accident. Then—so her grand-children would always have a place to live—the old woman had paid cash for the small house on Oak Street and given it to his mother. That done, she'd washed her hands of the three of them.

  “I want the lady with the pretty hat to come see us again,” Heidi had said one night while they were cuddled on their mother's lap for a bedtime story “The pretty lady is busy, sweetheart. But I'll tell her you'd like her to come and maybe one day…”

  Another memory came into focus. Jordan was eight years old—maybe nine—and he and Heidi and Faith had walked home from school. When they came inside, they found his mother at the kitchen table, her hands over her face.

  He and Heidi were at her side immediately, while Faith stood close by, her pretty face shadowed with concern.

  “Mom, what happened? What's wrong?”

  His mother had sniffled once and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “Nothing, kids. I'm fine.” She smiled at them, her cheeks swollen from crying. “You remember the nice old lady? The one who gave us this house?”

  Jordan and Heidi nodded.

  Their mother sniffled again. “Someone called today and
told me she…she died.”

  At the time Jordan remembered feeling relief. It was too bad for the old lady, but at least there wasn't something wrong with his mother. Strange, he'd thought, that she would be so upset over the death of someone she barely knew.

  A flutter of action brought Jordan back to the present, and he watched a bird land on the Jesus statue. He narrowed his eyes as though trying to see into the past. His mother's tears were easier to understand now, in light of thirty years of life experience. She must have felt so alone, so abandoned. First by his father, then by the old woman. True, she had given them a house. But she had never extended her friendship, her seal of approval that Jordan and Heidi and their mother were worthy of her time and attention. That afternoon, hearing that she was dead, must have ended his mother's dreams of someday being close to the only family she had left.

  It had been another reminder that all they had in the world was each other.

  Jordan could see himself throwing his arms around his mother's neck and comforting her that day “It's okay Mom. You don't need anyone but me and Heidi.”

  And that was true, until the year Jordan turned ten.

  Everything about his childhood seemed to crystallize that year—his relationship with Heidi, with his mother, with God Himself. That was the year Jordan knew without a doubt that everything would work out for them. And that belief started because of his growing friendship with Faith Moses.

  For the first five years of living on Oak Street, Jordan saw Faith as little more than a nuisance. She was a yucky girl who happened to live next door, someone to talk to and walk home from school with, a big sister figure for Heidi, but nothing more. Faith hung around the house after school sometimes, and once in a while he and Heidi would go to her house. But the summer he turned ten, it was as though someone flipped a light switch and he could see Faith for the first time. She was beautiful, even back then, possessed of a combination of joy and grace that gave her the air of a princess. Not that she ever acted that way It was simply who she was.

  One night she and Jordan played checkers after school while Heidi stayed home with their mother. The afternoon gave way to evening and just before dark a big man with an even bigger smile burst through the door and shouted. “Hey family, the happiest man in the world is home!”

  Jordan had never been formally introduced to Faith's father until that evening. “And who do we have here?” The man wore a neatly trimmed beard and the light from his blue eyes seemed to fill the room.

  Faith jumped up and ran into her father's arms. “This is Jordan from next door, Daddy. You've seen him before.” Even now Jordan could remember the pang of jealousy he'd felt seeing Faith and her father that way Jordan blinked back the wetness in his eyes as the image faded. What would it have been like to be hugged by his dad, to be loved that way by a father? The little boy inside still wanted the experience, but Jordan had no more understanding of that kind of love than he'd had twenty years earlier. But even twenty years hadn't dimmed the memory of the smile on Bob Moses’ face when he and Jordan met.

  “Jordan, welcome to our home. This is the place where Jesus lives!” The man was so happy, so sure of himself that at first Jordan had taken the statement literally. It seemed true enough, for at Faith's house people were always laughing or dancing or praising God about something. If Jesus had to live somewhere, chances were he lived with the Moses family Jordan stayed for dinner that night and every now and then his eyes would meet Faith's and they would giggle. When he went home that evening he made an announcement to his mother. “I'm going to marry Faith Moses one day”

  His mother smiled at him and pulled him close, the way she always did when he came through the door. “Are you now?”

  Jordan nodded. “Yep. I like her, Mom. Jesus lives at her house.”

  Jesus lives at her house?

  The memory was more than a little startling, and Jordan shifted, gazing at the tops of the trees along the park's edge. Was he the one who introduced Jesus to his family? He'd always assumed it was Faith's mother, Betty, who'd led them to the Lord. But that wasn't how he was remembering it now…

  An arrow of regret pierced his heart. If he'd been the one, he was deeply sorry. There was no reason to believe Jesus was alive-—not back then or today Yet somehow his mother had fallen completely in love with Jesus Christ. And it had happened sometime after he'd come home from Faith's that night.

  Another picture came into view of Heidi and him watching television with Faith in the den while their mothers talked qui-etly in the next room. The women had their Bibles out, as they did several times a week when Faith's mother came to visit. A few weeks later he and Heidi and their mother started attending church with the Moses family And Jordan still remembered the highlight of their Sunday outings: As they walked from the car to the church building, Mr. Moses would put his arm around Jordan's shoulders and ask him questions.

  “Did you have a good week, Jordan? Been talking to Jesus much?”

  Jordan didn't remember his answers or even all the things Mr. Moses asked. Just the feeling of the man's arms around him.

  Two months later, his mother got baptized at church, and after that there was something different about her eyes. She'd always been kind and gentle, quick with a hug and a kiss for him and Heidi. But that day she pulled them aside and told them what happened.” I gave my life to Jesus, kids. And one day I want you to do the same thing. He loves us all very much… and I love Him more than anything.”

  Jordan had bristled just a bit at that. More than anything? More than Heidi and him? His worries didn't last long, because whatever loving Jesus meant, it seemed to only make their mother more wonderful, as though it had accomplished some-thing deep and lasting within her. There was a peace in her eyes, a joy that remained whether the welfare check came on time each month or not.

  It was a joy that was still there two years later when she began to have a strange cough that wouldn't go away.

  Jordan was twelve that year, Heidi just nine. Still his little sister picked up on their mother's condition and shared her fears with Jordan. “I'm worried about Mama,” she told him one night. Their mother had gone to bed early, pale and tired, and Jordan was in charge of doing the dishes and making sure they were both in bed by nine. He pulled Heidi into a hug. “I know. Me too.”

  “You think we should pray to Jesus?” Heidi stared at him, her brown eyes glistening with sincerity.

  Jordan thought of the way his mother loved God, the way she talked about Jesus as though he no longer lived only at Faith's house but at their house too. “Okay, let's do it.”

  Then Jordan and Heidi held hands and talked to Jesus as though He was right there with them, part of their circle. Jordan remembered keeping his eyes closed, wondering if he opened his eyes whether Jesus would really be standing there with them. “Mama loves you, Jesus. So make her better quick, okay? And thank you for giving us each other.”

  It was something he'd heard his mother pray and it seemed appropriate that night. Over the next few weeks she had several doctor's appointments and for a while the cough seemed to go away It came back in the springtime when Jordan was thirteen, and this time she seemed worse than before.

  One afternoon Jordan and Faith were walking home from the local junior high when he stopped and sat on the edge of the curb. His feelings were all jumbled that day He'd seen Faith talking to another boy at school, and though they were too young to date, he couldn't fight the uncomfortable feelings squaring off in his heart. If he hadn't known better he'd have thought he was actually jealous. But it wasn't just Faith. He was worried about his mother, too. She seemed to be getting thinner, wasting away a little more each day. The combination of feelings was simply too much and as Jordan sat on the curb, he hung his head and choked back a sob as two teardrops fell to the ground.

  “Jordan, what's wrong?” Faith was immediately at his side, her arm around his shoulders. “Are you sick? What?”

  Worried as he was about his mother, h
is heart suddenly over-flowed with thoughts of Faith. He sniffed once and studied her eyes. “Am I your best friend?”

  She was so pretty her pale blond hair framing her face as she nodded. “You know you are.”

  “Then why were you with Scott Milton today at lunch?” Jordan could still hear himself, hear the way his voice sounded as he asked the question. Not angry or accusatory, but wounded.

  Faith's eyes danced. “Jordan Riley you mean you're jealous of old Scott Milton?” She giggled and removed her arm from his back, punching him playfully in the shoulder. “I thought you and me were only friends.” She raised her chin a notch. “Besides, everyone says you like Lorianne Wilcox.”

  It was Jordan's turn to laugh, and he bumped her playfully with his shoulder.” Don't believe everything you hear.”

  “It's true, isn't it?” She was teasing him, and he loved the way she made him feel. Even back then, when he was too young to know what it all meant.

  “No, it isn't true. Lorianne has a big nose.”

  A knowing look filled Faith's eyes.” I'll be sure to remember that.” She pretended she was taking notes on an invisible piece of paper. “Jordan Riley… doesn't like… big noses.”

  Jordan stopped laughing and his smile fell. Faith stared sadly at him, clouds dimming the twinkling in her eyes.” What is it? What's wrong?”

  Jordan knew she was the only one he could talk to about his fears. Heidi was too young and he didn't want to scare her. Of course he could never tell his mother; she would be devastated to know his true feelings. “I think… I think my mom's dying.”

  Faith's eyes flew open and she shook her head. “No, Jordan. Don't say that. She's just sick. Remember, it happened last year, too?”