Ben rubbed his nose. “I still have a dip caused by the break—it helps keep my glasses from falling onto the floor. But anyway, at the time I was getting more and more desperate. I tried to grab onto anything I could. I tore off several fingernails as I clawed at rocks.” He held up his right hand. “Several of them have never grown back straight since that day.”
Kay looked at the slightly misshapen fingernails on the minister’s right hand and winced.
Linda spoke. “I was running down the path trying to help, but after Ben went around the bend in the stream, he was out of sight. The kids were screaming. I was screaming. It was chaos.”
Ben continued, “I was now moving so fast in the water that nothing was slowing me down. All of a sudden, I became very calm, and everything began to happen in slow motion. I began to think in a deliberate, logical manner. I remembered that at the top of the waterfall there was a rock shelf that extended three or four feet out from the cliff. Beyond this shelf was a clear drop of sixty or seventy feet to some more rocks and a deep pool at the bottom of the falls. I realized what I needed to do.”
Kay had taken a few bites while Ben talked, but she now held her fork without moving it.
“You stopped eating,” Ben said.
Kay glanced at the fork and put it down beside her plate. “I’m not too hungry. Don’t leave me at the top of the waterfall.”
Ben smiled and shifted in his chair. “Okay. I was able to turn my body so that my legs were straight out in front of me with my feet facing downstream. I came around a bend and saw that the stream disappeared from view about a hundred feet ahead of me. It was the top of the falls. I reached the edge of the cliff and pushed off with my hands, hoping to clear the shelf at the top and the rocks below. As I flew out into the air, the verse I memorized as a little boy in west Texas flashed through my mind as if written with flames of fire. ‘The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.’ Then I blacked out.
“When I came to, I was floating in the water at the base of the falls. The sound of the water crashing down behind my head was deafening. I moved my legs and arms, and everything seemed to be working. I’d cleared the rocks and landed in the deep pool. My face was covered with blood from the broken nose and my hands were bleeding and banged up. But I was alive.”
“That is incredible,” Kay said.
Ben nodded. “At the base of the falls there was a young couple sitting on a blanket having a picnic. The young man was more interested in the girl than the food, and he was giving her a big kiss when I called out for help. They looked around in surprise and came running to the edge of the pool. I paddled over to them, and they helped me out of the water. I sat on their blanket, shivering with cold and shock, until Linda and the kids came running down the trail. In a few minutes I was able to walk up to the campground. I was taking a hot shower in a cabin when the local rescue squad arrived to search for the body.”
“The body?”
“Yes. Someone had called the sheriff ’s department and reported the accident. They assumed I was dead. One of the rescue workers told me seven people had gone over the falls: five died, one suffered serious, paralyzing injuries, and me—kept safe by the everlasting arms.”
Ben held up his right hand. “The strength of this hand wasn’t able to save me that day. It took a hand from heaven to take over where flesh and blood failed.”
The minister leaned forward. “Kay, no matter the ferocity of the river of life’s troubles you find yourself in, no matter how helpless and hurt you feel, no matter what lies behind or lurks ahead, ‘The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.’ That’s who he is, and that’s where he is.”
Kay sighed. “I think I’m somewhere between the top of the falls and the pool at the bottom.”
“Then underneath are the everlasting arms,” Ben added.
“I hope so,” Kay said.
“Maybe that’s why you visited the church this morning,” Linda said. “To be reminded that the Lord is with you in a time of trouble.”
“Yep.” Ben looked over at the dessert table. “Telling stories makes me hungry. I’d like dessert.”
Ben picked out a generous piece of coconut pie. Linda and Kay each chose a small bowl of fresh strawberries topped with whipped cream.
As they were finishing dessert, Kay said, “I have a question. The beagle puppy in the story. What happened to him?”
Ben laughed. “Oh, Buster lived a long life. And he always loved the water.”
At home, Kay closed the door of her apartment and leaned against it for a few seconds. She was still not in the mood to grade papers. She went into her bedroom. On the floor of her closet were several boxes she hadn’t unpacked since moving from Virginia Beach. She searched through them until she found what she was looking for—a pink Bible she’d received in a fifth-grade Sunday school class. Inside, she’d carefully written the date and her name in her best, elementary-school handwriting.
She found chapter 33 of Deuteronomy and sitting on the floor read the entire passage. She’d never considered the beauty and power of the Bible’s imagery. Moses’ blessing of the twelve tribes was not a dusty litany. As she read, it became a rich, vibrant declaration. She took the Bible into the living room and curled up on the couch with her notebook and pen. At the top of a blank page, she wrote, “The Everlasting Arms.”
13
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
KING HENRY IV, PART I, SCENE 5
Thelma Garrison sat down in the reception area of the youth detention center. The room was full of strange voices as parents and relatives talked while waiting their turns to visit a wayward teen in the lockup area. Thelma’s niece, Bonnie, had driven the blind woman to the YDC for the Sunday-afternoon visit.
They waited an hour before a female officer called out, “Mrs. Garrison?”
“I’m over here,” Mrs. Garrison responded anxiously.
“She’s blind,” Bonnie said, standing to her feet. “Can I help guide her?”
Thelma held on to Bonnie’s elbow as they followed the officer down the hallway to the dining room. Lester was sitting alone at one of the round tables.
“Hi, Lester,” Bonnie said.
“Hi,” Lester responded.
Bonnie guided Thelma to a chair. “I’m going to leave you two alone.”
After she was settled, Thelma asked, “Where are you, Son?”
“I’m here, Granny.”
Thelma reached out her hand. It was gnarled and wrinkled and shook slightly. Lester leaned sideways and avoided her reach.
“Are you okay?” Thelma asked.
Lester felt the cut over his eye. It was healing quickly. “Yeah.”
“Has anybody bothered you? Are you getting enough to eat?”
Questions started pouring out of the old woman. All the ruminations of her long hours alone with anxiety spilled over. “Do you have a good bed? Is there anybody from your school in this place? What are they going to do with you?”
Lester grunted in reply. Finally, he broke the string of his grandmother’s inquiries by asking about Jack, a shorthaired brown mutt that he’d raised from a little pup.
“How’s Jack?”
Thelma shook her head. “He’s pitiful. I don’t think he comes out from under the porch except at suppertime. He misses you sore.”
“Are you feeding him?”
“Yeah. But he needs you. When are you going to come home?”
Lester scowled. “If it was up to the district attorney, I’d never get out. I don’t know when I’m going to get out of this place. My lawyer doesn’t tell me anything.”
Thelma reached out her hand again. “Move your chair over here.”
This time Lester didn’t try to avoid her. He picked up his chair and put it beside his grandmother’s right hand. “Okay. I’m here.”
Thelma groped into the darkness until she felt his shoulder. She ran her hand down his arm, una
ware of the swastika tattoo that passed under her fingers.
“It’s good to be with you, Lester,” she said. “I’ve missed you more than Jack has.”
Lester bit his lower lip. “I’ve missed you, too, Granny. I’m ready to come home.”
The following morning Scott had a dentist appointment and didn’t arrive at the office until after 10 A.M. He only had one message on his voice mail—a call from Harold Garrison.
“I’m in Omaha. What’s going on with Lester? When is he getting out? I just called my mother, and she said he was in more trouble now than when you took the case. I told you I wanted some good news.” Click.
“Have a nice day in Omaha,” Scott said to the silent receiver.
He spent the rest of the morning preparing for the bond reduction hearing he’d scheduled that afternoon in Lester’s case. He called Thelma Garrison, and she immediately agreed to pledge her house as security on a bond. He then drove to the county tax office and determined that the house and land had an appraised value of $42,000. He obtained certified copies of the documents he would need.
Lester was in the courtroom with a female correctional officer from the YDC when Scott arrived for the hearing. Apparently, Lester wasn’t considered a sufficient security risk to require a male guard. No one else was in the courtroom. Scott sat down on the bench next to his client.
“What am I doing here?” Lester asked. “Is the D.A. making up more charges against me for things I didn’t do?”
“No, I filed a motion to reduce your bond. The judge will come out in a few minutes and let me argue my request. I talked with your grandmother. She’s willing to put up her house as security for your release.”
“Does that mean I’m going home today?”
“Maybe. If the judge sets a bond less than the value of your grandmother’s house, we may be able to get the paperwork signed by five o’clock.”
“She told me she wanted me at home when she came to see me at the YDC.”
Scott glanced at Lester and tried to imagine how the young man would look through a grandmother’s uncritical eyes. Then he remembered. The old woman was blind.
“We need to get ready,” Scott said. “I’m going to ask you a few questions in front of the judge: ‘Do you have a place to live?’; ‘Are you going to school?’; ‘Do you realize that you’ll have to come back to court?’ Be respectful. This is the judge’s first chance to hear from you.”
“I’m not stupid.”
In a few minutes Lynn Davenport and Judge Teasley entered the courtroom.
The judge sat down and looked at Scott. “Proceed, counsel.”
“Your honor, I’ve filed a Motion for Reduction of Bond, and in support of the motion I call Lester Garrison.”
Lester ambled over to the witness stand and raised his thin white arm. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and his tattoos remained incognito.
Scott asked a few preliminary questions, then said, “Tell the judge where you will live if you are released on bond.”
Lester turned in the chair toward Judge Teasley. “I live with my blind grandma. She needs me around the house and to take her to the grocery store. My father is a truckdriver, and he’s gone all the time, so I’m all she’s got.”
“Are you in school?” Scott asked.
“Yes, sir. I’m a junior at Catawba.”
“Will you return to school?”
“I want to go to school. The longer I stay at the YDC the more behind I’m getting in my schoolwork, and I really want to graduate next year.”
“Will you be in court when scheduled to appear in your case?”
“Yes, sir. I have my own truck. I bought it after working at a mill last summer.”
“That’s all.”
Lester was an admirable actor. A much better witness than Scott would have guessed.
“Ms. Davenport,” the judge said. “You may question the witness.”
To Scott’s surprise and relief, the D.A. stood and said, “No questions, your honor. My only concern is that if the defendant is released, he will seek to harass and intimidate potential witnesses.”
“When do you intend to call the case for trial?” the judge asked.
“As soon as possible. We have the Anderson murder case pending for trial in two weeks, but there is ongoing discussion in that case with counsel for the defendant, and it may be resolved by plea agreement. Everything else on the calendar can be shuffled around.”
The judge looked down at Lester and twirled his glasses once.
“I’m going to set bond at $40,000. If the defendant is able to satisfy the bond, I instruct him not to have any contact with the state’s witnesses once he leaves the youth detention center. He is further ordered to attend school regularly and spend the remainder of his time at his grandmother’s residence, only leaving to assist with her care, go to school, meet with his attorney, or appear in court. Of course, any illegal activity on his part will result in revocation of his bond and an immediate return to custody. Any questions?”
“No, sir,” Scott said.
Lester looked up at the judge from the witness chair and with the respect of a summer law clerk said, “Thank you, your honor.”
At five-thirty that evening, Lester Garrison walked out of the YDC and got into Bonnie’s car. She took him to Bojangles for chicken and biscuits, and on the way home he ate three biscuits and four pieces of chicken. When the car approached Thelma’s house, Jack heard the sound of the engine, crawled out from underneath the front porch, and gave a few halfhearted barks. Bonnie’s car was a familiar sight.
Lester rolled down the window and called out, “Jack! Jack!”
At the sound of his master’s voice, the dog bolted down the driveway in a brown flash. Bonnie stopped the car, and Lester got out to greet his four-legged friend. Jack ran excitedly in circles and jumped up to lick Lester’s face when his master knelt down to pat his head. Lester laughed. Jack was the only creature on earth who could make Lester smile.
Lester’s dented, white Ford pickup truck with the green tailgate was parked under a huge oak tree in the front yard. He’d bought the truck for $1,800 after working double shifts during the summer at a local textile mill. While Lester was at the YDC, a junk dealer had knocked on Thelma’s front door and asked if she wanted him to haul the truck away for no charge.
Thelma was standing on the porch and started crying when she heard the sound of Lester climbing the steps.
“Welcome home, boy,” she said and hugged him for at least ten seconds before he pulled away.
Jack ran excitedly back and forth around their legs until they went inside. Like most rural families, the Garrisons didn’t allow dogs inside human dwellings. When the screen door slammed in his face, Jack began moaning, and Thelma said, “Go ahead and let him in the house for a few minutes.”
The dog lay close to his master’s feet. While Bonnie and Thelma talked, Lester leaned over and scratched Jack’s favorite spot behind his left ear.
“Does Jack need any food and water?” Lester asked.
“I don’t know.”
Lester went into the kitchen and put some fresh water in Jack’s dish. The dog followed close by his heels. Lester watched him drink.
“Grandma!” Lester called out. “I’m going out to the shed for a few minutes. I need to check on some things.”
A previous owner of the property had built a tiny, windowless storage building from scrap pieces of lumber and plywood. The shed had been painted white at one time, but now only a few flecks of paint stubbornly clung to the aging wood. Lester had claimed the little structure as his own. He kept it locked. No one else had a key.
Inside the shed Lester reached up and pulled a metal chain that turned on a bare overhead light. He had put two sheets of new plywood on sawhorses to provide workspace for his projects. An orange extension cord hung down from an outlet built into the light fixture and provided a power source for several tools. Everything was exactly as he had left it. He locked the d
oor and went back into the house. Bonnie had left.
“Lester!” his grandmother called out from her bedroom. “Come in here, boy.”
Thelma was sitting in a brown vinyl recliner she’d covered with an old sheet to keep the plastic from sticking to her skin. A square fan was sitting on the floor near her feet doing its best to stir the air in the bedroom. Lester noticed that a sore on his grandmother’s leg that wouldn’t heal was getting larger.
“Get yourself something cold to drink and come talk to me,” she said.
“I’m just here for a few minutes. I have some things to do.”
“But you just got home,” she protested.
“I’ve been cooped up for over a week and want to ride around without anyone telling me what I can do and where to go.”
“’Fore you go, I need you to check my blood sugar. I’ve been feelin’ like it ain’t right all day. I can’t even remember if I took my shot this morning.”
“You always do it first thing.”
“Please, don’t go yet,” the old woman said pitifully. “I really need to check my sugar.”
Lester hated it when she talked in that whiny voice. He walked out of the room and down the short hall past his bedroom to the kitchen. There was a plastic jug of iced tea in the refrigerator and he filled a large glass.
“Lester? Are you comin’ back in here?”
He didn’t answer. He drank his tea, put the empty glass on the counter, and walked back to the bedroom. “Yeah, I’m here.”
The Sacrifice Page 12
