The Way of the Guilty

by Jennifer Stanley

  “Whoa!” she’d teased him. “Sounds steamy.”

  “I’ve been praying for a wife for over ten years now,” Quinton had replied solemnly. “But suddenly I realized that I’ve got to have a clear relationship with God before I can even attempt to form one with a woman. This study just spoke to me.”

  “Trust me, Quinton. We could all use help in the relationship department. Besides, you’re a real catch. Some girl is going to celebrate the day she found her way to your doorstep,” Cooper told her kind-hearted friend and then sped off to LifeWay to buy the study guide.

  She loved opening an unblemished, stiff workbook, uncapping her favorite purple pen, and rustling the pages of her Bible as she prepared to complete the first homework lesson.

  “Sounds like the wings of a dove, doesn’t it?” her mother had once said while flipping through her own Bible. “How the angels must rejoice over the music made by the turnin’ of those pages.”

  Cooper had felt a bit lost during the break the Bible study group had taken. She’d gone to church, but her focus had wandered during each service, her eyes roaming the congregation in search of the faces of her friends. Now, on the third Sunday in January, it was time to reunite. The first to arrive in the Hope Street Christian Academy’s biology classroom, Cooper set out a basket of her mother’s meringue pecan bars, brewed a pot of coffee in the teacher’s lounge, and placed a stack of snowman napkins alongside a plate of plump red seedless grapes.

  “Now this is an interesting room,” meteorologist Bryant Shelton declared as he entered, flicking a solar system model suspended from the ceiling into orbit. “I’m glad we got booted from the English classroom. I was getting kind of tired of being stared at by those Shakespeare and Virginia Woolf posters.” He sidled up to the life-sized skeleton and slung an arm around its bony shoulders. “Sorry to keep you waiting for our dinner date, sweet cheeks. Why, you’ve practically wasted away!” He laughed, displaying his famous television smile. Twin dimples appeared in his tanned cheeks as he released the skeleton and walked over to embrace Cooper. “I’ve missed our meetings.”

  Cooper smiled at him, knowing that dozens of women longed to be the recipient of Bryant’s attention and would have gladly locked her in the classroom’s supply closet if it meant the gorgeous weatherman would hug them instead. Cooper cared deeply for Bryant, but only as a friend. The two of them had quickly bonded a year ago over their experiences with failed relationships. Bryant was a divorcee three times over, and Cooper’s only serious boyfriend had left her for another woman. Together, they’d vowed to forgive those who’d hurt them and focus on the future instead.

  “I smell cookies!” Jake Lombardi bellowed as he stepped into the classroom. “Yours or your mama’s?” He stripped off a pair of worn leather gloves, dumped his aged barn jacket onto one of the student desks, and began to remove tissue-wrapped coffee mugs from a grocery bag.

  “Magnolia’s Marvels,” Cooper admitted. “She made an extra two dozen for us this morning.”

  “Lucky us.” Bryant pointed at the coffee mugs. “What are those, Jake?”

  “I saw ’em online,” Jake answered. “I wanted to get somethin’ for our first meetin’ of the year. I may be a plumber, but I got good taste. Check these out.” He handed Cooper a mug. It showed a rising sun and the words: “Coffee Hour: The Third Sacrament.”

  “We’re the Sunrise Bible Study group and we sure like our coffee,” Jake explained. “Figured these were made for us.”

  “Did you come bearing gifts, Jake?” a mellifluous voice asked from the doorway. Savannah held a white cane in one hand and several books in the other. Quinton was guiding her by the elbow with Trish Tyler, an ambitious realtor and mother of two, following closely behind. Nathan took up the rear.

  “These are cute, Jake,” Trish said as she picked up one of the mugs. “Even if they’re a tad cynical.”

  “Get your caffeine on and be grateful, lady.” Jake grinned at her. “After all, I could’ve picked the ones that said ‘God Only Loves You ’Cause He Has To’!”

  Nathan chuckled. “Oh, man, that is so mean!”

  The members exchanged small talk about their various trips and then settled down to begin day one of their study.

  “The first book of Corinthians addresses the people of Corinth. Imagine that!” Savannah took a bite of one of the meringue pecan cookies and sighed in delight. “This Greek city was a bustling and wealthy port,” she continued. “All kinds of exotic goods came in and out of this city and its people were as mixed as its goods. There was plenty of entertainment to be found there, including athletic competitions like the Olympics. According to my audio guide, there was also a tavern on every street corner.”

  “Sounds like Americans and our Starbucks,” Bryant remarked.

  “In this city filled with immorality, the apostle Paul appeared more than once to preach to the people,” Savannah said with a smile. “Does this setting remind you of another biblical place?”

  “Babylon,” Nathan answered quickly. “Both cities have the lure of glamour, wealth, and greed.”

  Savannah nodded. “We live in a modern Babylon, so we face similar temptations every day. I don’t know about you all, but I give in to these kinds of trappings on a regular basis.” She held up her cane. “I can’t even see and I’ve got a house loaded with stuff!” She laughed. “I admit to enjoying many material things. You probably didn’t know that I listen to QVC even though I can’t see the products clearly—only fuzzy colors! But I like how the hosts describe everything. It’s a seductive show.”

  “My problem is a type of greed.” Quinton spoke next. “I want more food than I need. I overindulge. I can’t seem to get a grip on my cravings.”

  Jake patted the large man on the back. “I hear ya, man. Over the holidays I slipped and had a smoke. And then a second one. Now those cigarettes are callin’ to me night and day.”

  “Boy, I know that feeling,” Cooper sympathized with Jake. “Even though I quit months ago, anytime I get stressed the thought of taking a few drags is tempting. Hang in there.” Glancing at her own workbook page, Cooper recalled that she’d written that her weekly pedicures were an unnecessary luxury, but that she had no intention of giving them up.

  Savannah raised the next discussion point. “In verse nineteen of chapter one, Paul quotes from Isaiah. How do you respond to the phrases ‘destroy the wisdom of the wise’ and ‘the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate’?” Savannah looked around the circle of faces, as though she could see everyone’s features through her nearly sightless, navy blue eyes. Cooper noticed that she’d loosened her braid, allowing her dark brown hair to spill over her shoulders. The light from the windows caught a few strands of silver framing Savannah’s unlined face. Once again, Cooper was struck by Savannah’s loveliness. Though only forty, their group leader possessed a level of grace, poise, and self-awareness that made her seem wiser than her years.

  “I don’t think Paul is trying to compliment smart people,” Trish said and then paused to rub her glossy ruby-tinted lips with her pinkie. “Sometimes, the biggest brainiacs are the biggest atheists, too. Like they’ve figured out all of life’s riddles and therefore have no reason to believe in God.”

  Bryant rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Like Benjamin Franklin? I think he was the one who said, ‘Lighthouses are more helpful than churches.’ ” He waved his hand around the room. “Here we are, in a place filled with the evidence of man’s scientific discoveries, and they really are great, but even this level of wisdom doesn’t give us what we need.”

  Quinton nodded. “Take Adam. He had everything he needed, but he wasn’t satisfied. Look where that got us.”

  “Good point!” Jake exclaimed with a smirk. “That ’ole serpent knew what he was doin’ when he told Adam he could know as much as God if he’d only take a little nibble of fruit.” He nudged Trish playfully with his elbow. “Thanks a lot, Eve.”

  Trish scowled, her pencil-drawn eyebrows furrowing.
“No one twisted Adam’s arm. He made his own choice. Besides, women have paid for Eve’s bad decision.” Her voice rose. “You men don’t have any idea what labor pains are like! That damned fruit cost us plenty.” Her eyes dropped to her book and fixed upon the page as the rest of the group exchanged startled glances.

  Savannah recovered first and steered the conversation back to the subject at hand. Cooper shared her thoughts that human wisdom was different from divine wisdom, for one had limits and the other had none, but felt that she needed to say something else to lighten the mood.

  “I’ve definitely acted dumb when I thought I was being clever,” she told her friends while trying to block out images of the Pajama Party. “When I started fixing office machines, I thought I was some kind of female da Vinci. One of my first jobs was to repair a printer in the nurse’s office of a nearby grade school. I tried everything, but I couldn’t get it to work. Then this seven-year-old boy comes in and tells me that it’s not plugged in. Sure, there was a nest of cords and wires under the nurse’s’ desk, but I never even checked the most basic step because I wanted to solve a complicated problem.” She shrugged. “Guess I needed a dose of humility.”

  “ ‘Arrogant’ is not a word that I’d associate with you.” Nathan winked at her. “And you’re awesome at problem-solving. Do I have to point out that you’ve helped solve two murder cases?”

  “Well, arrogant is a word people might use to describe me,” Bryant commented with a self-effacing grin. “Once, when I was working at a station at the beach, I showed up too late for work to review the latest weather data before I went on the air at six a.m. Because of that, I failed to warn commuters that they’d be dealing with a serious fog. There were dozens of accidents that day and lots of people called the station to complain about my crappy forecast. My boss reamed me out with a hurricane-force lecture.”

  “At least you didn’t punch a hole in somebody’s septic tank.” Jake screwed up his face in disgust. “On Fourth of July. Durin’ a family reunion. Do you know what sewage smells like in the middle of a ninety-nine degree day?”

  Quinton squirmed in his chair. “Ew! No more details, Jake, please. You’ll put me off my cookies. Did I ever tell you guys about the time—?”

  “ENOUGH!” Trish shouted and the Bible study members jumped in their seats. “I win the blue ribbon for being stupid! Hands down, no contest, game over! I win!” She hit the desktop with a closed fist, her crimson fingernails digging into the flesh of her palm. “I always thought I was the type of person who couldn’t get sick. People who smoked or drank or never exercised got sick. Not me! I eat balanced meals, work out four times a week, and only drink a glass of Chablis when the mood strikes me. But I’m sick, all right. Look at this.” She raked her fingers through her copper-colored hair and then showed her friends the red clump resting on her palm.

  “What’s happening?” Savannah pleaded, unable to witness the unsettling act.

  “She’s losing her hair,” Cooper whispered, her eyes never leaving Trish’s tormented face.

  “I’ll be lucky if that’s all I lose,” Trish muttered hoarsely and then her mouth began to quiver. “Do you remember that biopsy I had back in the fall? The one that came out benign?”

  Her friends nodded fearfully.

  “Well, I’ve had another one since then and it’s not benign.” She spat out the word as though it were an enemy. “I, Trish Tyler, have cancer. Right here.” She folded her hands across her heart and then fanned them out across her chest. “I have breast cancer. The serious kind.”

  Jubilant music calling people to worship tripped down the corridors of the church wing housing the school, but none of the Sunrise Bible Study members responded to the enticing melody. The unhindered shrieks of children racing down the hall toward their Sunday School classes, the cheerful shouts of adults greeting one another, and the increasing volume of the drumbeat emanating from within the chapel produced a cacophony of joyfulness that seemed to mock the atmosphere in the biology classroom.

  “I’m sorry.” Trish hid her face in her hands. “I didn’t mean to let it out this way. I’m so mixed up right now. I go from brave to being scared out of my mind, to angry, to yelling curses in the privacy of my shower, to crying so hard I’ve got to pull the car off the road and park. Right now, I’m just really, really tired.”

  Savannah eased herself from behind her desk and walked carefully over to where Trish sat. Putting both arms around her distraught friend, she whispered, “Tell us everything.”

  “I’ve got grade two cancer, which means that they couldn’t just cut the bad cells out and send me on my way. I had surgery right after Christmas—I didn’t want to spoil things for the girls so I insisted on waiting a few days—and they removed the masses, but it’s not enough.”

  Jake gave her a stern look. “You should’ve told us, you stubborn woman. Least we could’ve prayed for you while you were goin’ through all that.”

  Surprisingly, Trish smiled. “I was in serious denial three weeks ago. I figured if I didn’t tell anyone it would just go away.”

  “Do you need chemo?” Quinton asked with concern.

  Trish picked up the loose strands of hair and began winding them around and around her index finger. “I’ve already started. Had my first dose on Thursday.”

  “Oh, Trish.” Cooper’s eyes grew moist.

  “I get another dose next week. Through an IV. It takes about an hour. That should finish off what’s left of my hair. And here I thought my auburn hair dye, the blow dryer, and the flat iron would be the ones to fry my gorgeous locks.” Trish offered up a crooked grin. “Guess it’s a good thing I had the photo taken for my Tyler Fine Properties billboard last summer.”

  “Woman, you’re gonna look smokin’ hot with no hair,” Jake teased. “Like that singer, Sinead somethin’ or other. Or Demi Moore when she shaved her head for that G.I. Jane movie.”

  “I think you’d look nice in a wig, too,” Nathan added kindly. “You could channel Princess Di one day and Cleopatra the next.”

  “Thanks, you two, but either way, the hair is going.” She gripped Savannah’s hand with sudden desperation. “I don’t want to do it myself, though. I know I’m going to get upset when I see the results. Would you . . . ?” She faltered.

  “We’ll come over whenever you’re ready,” Savannah declared and gave Trish’s hands a compassionate squeeze. “Though you might want to pick someone other than me to do the shaving!” She smiled. “We’ll all be there to help you through this. Not just the losing your hair part, but every single moment of terror, anger, doubt, and grief.”

  Bryant also got up and walked over to Trish. “That’s right. We’ll cook for you—well, the rest of them will cook and I’ll buy takeout—drive you places, go to the doctor’s with you, and listen to you vent.”

  “Thank you.” Trish sniffed and sat in silence for a moment. “Listen, I’d rather not talk about this anymore if that’s okay. Let’s go worship now.”

  “After we pray for you,” Cooper insisted and everyone immediately reached out for a friend’s hand.

  Savannah closed her eyes. “I am too unsettled to come up with any words of my own, so I will rely on Scripture. Please turn to Isaiah forty-one, verse ten and read aloud with me.” She pulled Trish’s hands toward her own and bent over them, so that her breath fell directly onto the sick woman’s skin.

  “ ‘So do not fear, for I am with you;

  do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

  I will strengthen you and help you;

  I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.’ ”

  One by one, the members of the Sunrise Bible Study stood up and placed their hands on Trish’s body. They touched her shoulders, her back, her arms, her hands, the top of her head, and her face.

  “You will not face this alone,” someone whispered. “We are with you.”

  “Amen,” Trish murmured through her tears.

  3

  Among my people are wick
ed men who lie in wait like men who snare birds and like those who set traps to catch men.

  Jeremiah 5:26 (NIV)

  The next Monday, Cooper found it difficult not to think about Trish. Like most people, she was aware that a great many people were affected by some form of cancer. She’d noticed the yellow bracelets made popular by Lance Armstrong, pink ribbons pinned to shirt collars, and the amusing Save the Ta-tas T-shirts, but the disease had never touched her personally.

  Of course she’d met cancer survivors and friends whose family members had either beaten or succumbed to the affliction, but this was the first time someone she cared about was engaged in a battle for her life. In many ways, that’s how Cooper saw Trish—as a soldier—an unsuspecting, preoccupied individual drafted to wage war upon a silent and potentially lethal enemy.

  Cooper had no problem imagining Trish as a warrior. She could envision her red-haired friend hunched in some muddy trench, a rifle clenched against her chest—her violet eyes blazing and unafraid. If anyone had the willpower to overcome adversity, it was Trish. Cooper tried to focus on her friend’s strength instead of the scary what if questions that crept into her mind.

  The workday proved to be another long one and Cooper was grateful to be too busy to brood. All three of the Make It Work! employees—Ben, Emilio, and Cooper—spent the day completing the last of the Canon copier manufacture recalls. Just when Cooper thought she must have replaced the millionth faulty drum in Richmond, Angela rushed over to the work van and slapped another work order against the glass of the driver’s window.

  “I’m sorry, darlin’,” she said when Cooper opened the door to receive the paper. “I know it’s almost five, but a call came in from one of the higher-ups at the Bank of Richmond. He’s fit to be tied. Seems the man came back from vacation in Fiji to find his executive secretary’s copier broken.” Angela rolled her eyes. “Could you imagine what would happen if he ran across a real emergency? Anyhow, I had the pleasure of speakin’ to him and he was as rude as a rush-hour driver. If the bank didn’t have such a big account with us, I’d tell him to go stuff himself like a Thanksgiving turkey, but someone’s gotta tend to that machine.” She shook her head. “I feel for the poor woman who’s gotta deal with him day in and day out. There ain’t a salary on this earth worth that.”