by Randy Alcorn
“Your mother used to tase you?”
“She’d say, ‘I’ll spank you till the cows come home.’”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
Bronson, still behind the overturned couch, said, “She should have used the Taser.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Victoria sat on the bed next to Adam, examining his swollen face. “You look beat.”
“Only because I am.”
“Sure you don’t want to call off this evening?”
“No way. The Holts have been on the calendar for weeks.”
Victoria held his hand. “You know what? I’m encouraged about Dylan. Since we discovered the drugs, it’s like a load’s been lifted off him. I’m so glad he was at the ceremony. He’s proud of you. And you’ve set an example for him—given him something to live up to.”
“Now’s the real test, though. William Barrett was right. It will take courage. And we can’t be courageous without God’s grace and strength.” Adam’s eyes sought hers. “I’d like us to start praying together and sharing what we learn in the Word.”
“Okay,” Victoria said. “I guess that means I’d better learn something from the Word, right? When would we do this?”
“Could we try after breakfast, when Dylan’s gone for school? If we’re dressed and ready to go, we’ll have thirty minutes before I leave for work.”
“Every day?”
“How about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?”
“Monday morning it is.”
“You’re smiling at me.”
“I just realized something. If you’re going to be the spiritual leader, you’ll need me to follow!”
“Are you up for that?”
“Hey, if you’re gonna man up, I can woman up!”
Adam looked like he wanted to say more.
“What is it?”
“You know how you’ve told me I’ve become more and more cynical as the years go on?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, that made me defensive.”
“I noticed.”
“You were right. I’m determined to get on top of it. But I do want you to understand why I’m cynical so you can help me.”
“I think I understand, but please tell me.”
“I see the worst in people’s behavior. People lie to cops about everything. Eventually you assume everyone’s lying. Remember how you used to say I was idealistic?”
“It’s been a long time.”
Adam winced when he leaned against the headboard. “Other cops made fun of me. I believed the best about people, but I gradually changed. When your expectations are low, you’re not as disappointed.”
“And other cops don’t think you’re gullible and naive.”
“Exactly. Jeff used to say, ‘In God we trust; all others are suspects.’”
Victoria shook her head. “Jeff stopped trusting Emma. He ran checks on numbers she’d called.”
“When the Kellers first came to our church and invited Dylan over to spend the night, I ran a criminal background check. You think, ‘What’s the harm?’ And what if I found out later the man’s a criminal? When I’m cynical, there’s no one at work to talk me down from it. Shane’s more cynical than I am. We see the whole world through the lens of our job.”
“Fathers should be protective, of course. But there’s a limit. Like when the guy from the mariachi band touched Emily’s shoulder. You nearly came unglued.”
He pointed. “My ankle still hurts where you kicked me.”
“But I had to get your attention. All these years when I’ve mentioned stuff like this, you’ve pulled rank, saying you’re a cop, so you knew what people were like, and I didn’t.”
“You’re right. I’ve done that. And I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
Victoria looked him in the eyes. “I do forgive you.”
“Anyway, I’ve made a decision.”
“You’re retiring from police work to try out for the Atlanta Falcons?”
“No, but it feels almost as . . . unlikely. I’ve decided I’d like to talk to you more about . . . what’s going on inside me.”
“Sounds good. The Bible says I’m supposed to be your helper. I can’t help when you shut me out.”
“I did that when Jeff . . . died. And for a while after Emily died.”
Victoria heard loneliness in Adam’s words. “God put me here for you, Adam. We’ve talked about Emily now, and that’s been good. But we never talked about Jeff. That was so hard on you. I wanted to help you. But you wouldn’t let me in.”
“I do want to talk to you about that. Not tonight, but soon. I mean, about Jeff’s suicide and what the psychologist said.”
Victoria blinked. “You saw a psychologist?”
“No. A police psychologist talked to all of us about cops and suicide, before Jeff’s funeral.”
“Why didn’t I know about that?”
“Because . . . I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, on the cynicism thing, I think you can talk me down from it, remind me of the good around us—that God has a plan and one day He’ll turn this upside-down world right side up.”
“I have to remind myself every day. I’ll put you in the loop.”
Adam smiled. “It’s funny—Nathan is the best cop influence I’ve ever had. He’s a serious Christian. Still, he’s a cop. But I’ve noticed when I’m around Javy, he energizes me. He’s so . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Childlike,” Victoria said. “In the best sense—not immature, just kind of innocent.”
“Exactly! You can be positive like that, Victoria. And you know me better than anyone.”
“I’m really glad you opened up to me. What made you decide to?”
“I’ve been thinking about the Resolution. Yeah, I want to be a better husband. But I want you to be my best friend. And best friends tell each other what’s inside, right?”
Victoria hugged him. “Adam Mitchell . . . the other day when you gave me roses, it meant a lot to me. But what you just said may be the best gift ever.”
When Caleb and Catherine Holt arrived at the Mitchells’ home, they sat down to a table heaped with comfort food. A platter piled with Southern fried chicken, mounds of mashed potatoes with butter dripping down the sides, and a big bowl of green beans cooked with bacon.
Adam touched his face. “Before we dig in to this feast, I want to clarify that it wasn’t Victoria who beat me up. She’s capable of throwing a sucker punch, but that’s not what happened.”
They all laughed as he told the story over dinner. After a dozen cop and firefighter stories, Dylan excused himself to finish homework. The couples migrated to the living room. Catherine and Caleb sat on the love seat near the fireplace; Adam and Victoria settled on the couch.
Victoria fidgeted. “Adam and I regret that we never properly thanked you for the way you treated us at the hospital the night that Emily died. And then for coming to her funeral. Your support meant a lot.”
“No need to thank us,” Catherine said. “All of us on duty that day were deeply touched. We deal with crises all the time, but that day in the chapel at Phoebe Putney Memorial, a dozen people at a time prayed for your family. People prayed in the hallways and at workstations. I’d never met you, but Caleb said he knew you from the Responder Life breakfast.”
Victoria said, “Caleb, when they told us you gave Emily CPR, I thought our little girl was in good hands before the Lord took her.”
Caleb sat a little straighter. “Thank you. I wish we could have saved her, but God knows. She hung by a thread. As I worked on her, I felt like . . . I don’t know . . . I felt like an angel of God was right there watching over her. It was very real. I told Catherine that night, it was a sacred experience. Emily was so . . . peaceful.”
Adam squeezed Victoria’s hand as tears streamed down their cheeks.
After he regained composure, Adam said, “We should have invited you over long ago.”
“We thought about asking you over too,”
Catherine said. “But we didn’t want to intrude. People are different. Some want to talk; some don’t. When I was at the hospital that day, I’ve never seen so many people want to do something, anything, for Emily.”
“I didn’t know that,” Adam said.
“After Adam and I finally left that emergency room, we didn’t want to leave the hospital.” Victoria paused. “We weren’t ready to admit that Emily had died. It was wonderful how they set up that waiting room just for us, where we could just sit and be with our friends.”
“That was Catherine,” Caleb said.
“It was no big deal. I wanted you to have some privacy. We don’t have children of our own. But if we did, I would want . . .”
Suddenly Catherine put a hand to her face. Caleb stretched his arm around her. Now it was Adam and Victoria’s turn to wait.
Catherine finally laughed through her tears. “Well, I didn’t expect that!”
Victoria said, “I take it you’d like to have children?”
Catherine nodded. “We’ve been trying a long time.”
“The good news,” Caleb said, “is that we’re finally on a waiting list to adopt.”
Catherine put her hands together. “In another few months we could get the call and suddenly fly off to China to get our child! We said we’re open to one with special needs.”
“That’s great,” Adam said. “Caleb, I know you’ll be an excellent father.”
Catherine looked at her husband. “Yes, he definitely will.”
Victoria served them each a piece of lemon pie with whipped cream. They consumed a pot of decaf, and the evening went quickly. Hours passed like minutes.
Just after midnight the Holts stood to leave. Everybody hugged. Though they’d barely known each other six hours earlier, the combination of laughter, tears, prayers, and shared dreams sealed their friendship in a single night.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Alone in his apartment, in jeans and an old red-and-white Valdosta State T-shirt, David Thomson sat with his laptop at the kitchen table, glancing every now and then at the Resolution on the living room wall. He didn’t have to make room when he hung it—his walls were mostly bare. He’d selected a spot where he could see it from his beanbag chair and from the kitchen table.
He felt as if he’d signed the Declaration of Independence. David had won awards, most of them athletic, but he’d never signed a document and hung it on a wall.
For once, David did not feel alone. He was part of something bigger than himself. Part of a common cause with his friends, guys he respected, who meant the world to him.
He imagined himself in Philips Arena with 18,000 people watching the Hawks play basketball. Except this time he was on the court. And it wasn’t just a game. It was real life—a battle of its own, far more important than any game.
He stared at his laptop’s screen, squared his shoulders, then began to type.
Amanda,
I know it’s probably a shock for you to hear from me. But I need to tell you what’s happened in my life. In the last two years, I’ve become a deputy for the Dougherty County Sheriff’s Department. The job is tough, but I work with some of the best guys in the world. Being a cop has forced me to see how one person’s selfish decisions can hurt many others.
Recently I had a life-changing experience. I began a relationship with God through Jesus Christ. I’ve still got a lot to work on, but He’s helping me make some sense of my life and become a better man.
For years, I’ve been afraid to admit that I have a daughter and have done nothing to help take care of her.
I know how wrong I’ve been. I’m ashamed of myself. I’ve asked God to forgive me. I’m writing this letter to tell you that I’ve decided to stop running.
If you are willing, I’d like to meet with you and begin the process of rebuilding your trust. In time and with your permission, I hope to meet Olivia and let her know that she has a father who cares about her.
I have no other expectations. I only ask for a chance to be a part of Olivia’s life. I will wait for your response.
Until then, I’ll pray for you and Olivia. I have enclosed a symbol of my commitment to help with her care.
Sincerely,
David Thomson
He printed the letter, signed it, addressed the envelope, and enclosed a check.
“Okay, God,” he said softly. “Do whatever You want to do. I’m ready.”
Amanda walked to the house and sat at her faded Formica kitchen table. Filled with curiosity and fear and a hope so distant she didn’t recognize it as such, she read the letter. The check was for $500. She stared at it.
There must be some mistake.
She watched as Olivia played with her toys on the old coffee table. Amanda read the letter again.
What does this mean?
Adam knocked, then opened Dylan’s door. “Hey, Son. What are you doing?”
“Just playing a video game.”
“Got a question for you. Have you ever seen a movie called Chariots of Fire?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Well, it got the Oscar for best picture in 1981.”
“What’s it about?”
“Runners. And the Olympics. And a lot more. I picked up the DVD today. Want to watch it with me tomorrow night? Popcorn, Doritos, drinks are on me.”
Dylan nodded, looking skeptical but polite.
“Okay, Son, so tell me about the video game you’re playing.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s something that interests my son. So I want to learn about it.”
An hour later, Dylan had taught his dad about preferred armament, ranged and melee attacks, “weapons-grenades-melee,” hit points, recharging energy shields, and dual wielding. Adam tried the game, which caused both of them to laugh. But he picked it up quickly.
Adam told Dylan that some of it was like what he did as a cop on the firing range. Dylan seemed interested. Adam invited him to come and watch him at the range. Dylan said he’d like to.
Wow. I’ll put in a request tomorrow.
Fifteen minutes after leaving Dylan’s room, Adam sat in the living room reading. Dylan approached him, holding out a paper bag.
“That’s all of it,” Dylan said.
“All of what?” Adam opened the bag and found a small bong and some marijuana.
“I had another hiding place,” Dylan said. “I haven’t touched it since you found the other bag. But I figured I should give you the rest of it.”
Kayla sat down with Nathan after the kids were in bed.
“At the center today, I counseled a girl from Albany High. She’s Jade’s age. Gave her the pregnancy test. She wanted to fail, but it was positive. I’m glad she came in, but, Nathan, I don’t know what goes through these kids’ minds. They don’t think about consequences.”
“Will she have the baby?”
“At first she said no. Just came for the free test, but if pregnant, her plan was abortion. We barely talked her into an ultrasound. When she saw it, the girl said, ‘They told me it wasn’t a baby. But look!’ Once she saw the baby, she couldn’t believe the lie. One of the staff is following up to help her decide whether she’ll raise the child or place him for adoption. Nathan, I keep thinking, if only I’d gone to a center like ours nineteen years ago . . .” Kayla wiped her eyes.
Nathan hugged her, tight and long.
“It’s tough out there,” Kayla said.
“And the toughest part is, we’ve got to send our kids out into that world. Jade’s not ready.”
“We do our best.”
“Do we? I don’t know. But I meant what I said in the Resolution. I won’t be a passive dad. Jade may not like it. Sometimes you might not like it. But I’ve got to be God’s man and lead this family. I’ll make mistakes, but I refuse to do nothing.”
“Sometimes doing nothing is wise.”
“Sometimes. But when that gangster drove off with Jackson, doing nothing might have cost us our son. And
right now, Jade’s heart is in danger of being stolen by a young man. And I don’t care if that boy’s an honor student or the Prince of Wales, I need to take hold of the wheel.”
Kayla frowned. “You know I agreed with you about Derrick when he first dropped by. I was ready to write him off. But Jade told me that wasn’t fair. I think she’s right. I mean, he looks like a responsible young man, honor student, no police record, and they just want permission to hang out together with other kids there. It’s not a one-on-one date.”
Nathan shook his head. “It might not start one-on-one, but it would go there. I’m convinced it would be a mistake to let this go further. I think I should take the lead on this.”
“Are you saying I should stay out of it?”
“No. I just think if God has made me responsible for this family, He’s given me the authority to lead it. And, Kayla, I know young men, what’s inside of them, way better than you do. The question is, do you really want me to lead? Because when I do, it means sometimes I’ll lead us where you may not want to go.”
Kayla shook her head. “I’m not so sure about all this. I think of myself as your equal.”
“So do I. Always. You have equal value, equal wisdom, and far greater beauty and charm. In a lot of ways, you’re smarter than I am. But remember, the leader answers to God. It’s not an easy job.”
Kayla gazed at him. “Well, I will say this. I liked that part about beauty and charm. Sometimes, Nathan Hayes, you have exceptional insights! Sometimes.”
“Yo, TJ, what’s poppin’?”
TJ shook his head in disgust at Chewy, who’d been his most promising Gangster Nation soldier only a year ago. “You wasted, dawg. Where your teeth go? Why they let you in here?”
“Heard 5-0 collared Big Leon. It really take four 5-0s with Tasers to put him down?”
“Stop actin’ like you still a player, man. You nothin’.”
TJ looked Chewy up and down. Chewy used to be ripped. For a while he’d worked out with TJ, Antoine, and Leon. Now he looked pathetic. “You stink, sucka.”
