“I’m almost used to it. I’ll probably feel cold back in Denver.”
A swish of skirts announced the approach of women. Rex still had a hard time twisting his limbs to look over his shoulder, but Benny didn’t have any such problems. “Hello there, Muriel, Sarah—or is it Nascha?”
Feet tapped the ground, and Muriel burst into his line of vision. “When did you get here? Rex didn’t tell me you were coming.” Her eyes burned into Rex, challenging him.
“I figured I could help him get back to Denver. Even after he’s okay to travel, he’s going to have a hard time.”
Benny hugged Muriel, and Rex turned his face down, not wanting to see their comfortable camaraderie.
“It’s good to see you. That explains the film reels in Rex’s room. I was wondering if he had been digging in his things.”
Rex decided to insert himself into the discussion. “Sarah, would the”—he stopped himself from saying “Indian” in the nick of time—“people like to see the film? Benny’s setting it up for me to see it, but we could find a place everyone could see it.”
Sarah nodded. “That would be good.”
Muriel felt the tension radiating from Rex. Since his accident slowed him down, Benny had taken on the task of splicing the film together. No director liked to leave that crucial step to someone else. At least he would do the final editing.
“It will be fine.”
Her attempt at reassurance failed. He turned flat eyes on her before curving his mouth in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m always like this before I see it all together the first time.”
“Fear always seizes me every time I go on stage.” She took a seat next to Rex, careful of his legs. The way he shifted his legs and rubbed his shins told her they bothered him, although he would never admit it. The dear, sweet, impossible man. She took his hand in hers while the screen flickered, and the low hum that buzzed among the gathered people silenced.
RUINED HOPES, A REX PRIDE PRODUCTION. When the words appeared on the screen, he tensed again, his leg jerking and straightening. The credits rolled, and a small frisson of pleasure rolled down her arms when she saw her name. Nascha Begay—bless Benny for getting that detail right—showed up far down on the credits, as “assistant to Miss Galloway.” Muriel wished she were sitting next to her, enjoying this moment of recognition.
But Nascha had chosen a seat with her family. Of course. She wanted to share this night with those closest to her. Muriel felt an infrequent pang of homesickness.
The credits finished rolling, and the Four Corners marker appeared on the screen. “At a place in an isolated corner of the far west, two states and two territories meet at a single point. Long before the first white men crossed the Atlantic, these four corners were the crossways of an ancient people. The Old Ones lived in the high desert. They built homes for themselves high along the cliffs. An entire city…” The words scrolled by before moving into the first scene. Standing Corn and Killdeer embraced, hiding in a corner of the canyon, away from the eyes of her father.
Muriel forced herself to think of the figure on the screen as the Indian princess Standing Corn, not as herself.
Soon they came to the scene after the hunting party, where the Diné had appeared as extras. People pointed when they saw themselves on the screen. Laughter rumbled around the circle. Rex relaxed as the scene rolled past, tracing his fingers over the back of Muriel’s hand. Even the paper-mache deer and horns looked realistic, the way Benny had captured them on film. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered in Rex’s ear. He pressured her hand, and she smiled. If only all their time together could be this simple.
At the climax, when Killdeer and Standing Corn married and added their painting to the cliff wall, Muriel lost herself in the love shining from Killdeer’s eyes, laying Rex’s chiseled face over Fred’s strong features. Closing her eyes, she let her imagination take flight, adding the soundtrack of the music they had chosen, humming it to herself. She sneaked a glance at Rex and saw him directing the music with his pointer finger.
The film rolled to the end, but no one moved. Benny stood. “That’s all, folks. I understand a feast has been arranged, and I for one can’t wait.”
Rex struggled to his feet. Muriel wanted to help, but knew he would resist her assistance. Once he had the crutches under his armpits, he swung to face Muriel. “May I escort you to the feast? More mutton and corn and fried bread?”
“Certainly.” She laced her fingers over Rex’s on the rung of the crutch as they made their way to the tables set up in the center of the village. “The film turned out well. You’ve created an amazing story.”
“It was easy to do when I was working with such an amazing actress.”
His words surprised Muriel. He dispersed a minimum of compliments to anyone.
Benny had taken a seat with Nascha and her family. He made people feel comfortable, whatever the circumstances.
Rex didn’t have that skill. His skill lay in teasing, demanding the best from people around them. How she longed to see his strength dedicated to the service of God, instead of fighting Him.
Enjoy the night. Be at peace. God loved Rex, and He was at work. She couldn’t change a thing by worrying about it.
If only all Rex’s time with Muriel could go this well. When it came to the power of theater and film, they shared the same passion. While watching the motion picture, he could forget about the things that separated them.
He studied Muriel’s profile, committing the details to memory: the slope of her nose, her trembling lips, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks, pink with health. The uncuffed sleeve of her dress fluttered in the slight breeze, showing a glimpse of creamy pale skin.
Rex grabbed another piece of fry bread and added a dollop of honey—not quite Mom’s apple pie, but it was delicious. Arching his eyebrows, Benny lifted the last of his bread to his mouth and stuffed it in. “Delicious.” The words came out muffled. After he swallowed, he dug in his pocket for a handkerchief and wiped the sticky residue from his hands. At Benny’s nod, Charlie rose to his feet.
“I have spent many hours with Mr. Benny Gruber this summer. You may not have seen him. He stays behind the camera, taking pictures. He brought the movie for us to see. He has asked to speak to us.”
People settled back, prepared to give him an audience.
“He also asked me to translate, for those who do not speak English.” Charlie spoke in Navajo.
For a man who spent most of his time behind a camera, Benny looked at ease in front of an audience. He walked to a spot where he could see everyone around the tables. Charlie took his place beside him.
After clearing his throat, Benny started speaking. “Thank you for listening to me. We couldn’t have made Ruined Hopes without your help. We never would have gotten the pictures of the bighorn sheep without Charlie’s help, or found the cliff paintings or gotten close to a deer or any of a dozen other things. You made this the best experience I’ve ever had working on a film.”
Charlie translated, and their audience nodded and smiled.
“I was poor when I was a child, poor as white men measure wealth. I worked hard until I had everything that represents success to the white man. Education, things, money. But something was still missing.”
The audience didn’t react as Charlie translated. Rex wondered what point Benny wanted to make; a single glance at the village showed they valued other things more than money and might not understand.
When Benny continued, he made the same point. “You might care about different things, like honor, courage, family. No matter who you are, Diné or white, we all make something the goal of our lives.” One of the elders, the one who had been attending the Bible study, nodded.
The words sank into Rex’s heart. He didn’t value money or things, although he had them. But he craved respect, insisted on independence, challenged anyone who threatened his opinion of himself as a self-made man.
“I got everything I thought I w
anted. But I was still miserable.”
Rex had achieved all his goals, but what had he gained? At the end of the day he was lonely, tired, and restless until the next challenge presented itself. He who took pride in everything he possessed in reality had accomplished nothing on his own.
Without Muriel’s unexpected appearance at the film site the day he’d fallen, he would be dead. Without the care of a man he derided for his lack of education, he wouldn’t be walking, even on crutches. He wouldn’t even have a film if not for Benny’s intervention. He wouldn’t even have survived the filming if not for Sarah’s warning the day of the flood.
Benny was still talking. “One day a man, a janitor at the building where I had my photography studio, introduced me to the one true God. Right away I knew that Jesus was what I had been looking for all my life.”
Was it as simple as that? No matter how hard Rex worked, his accomplishments left him empty. In fact, he was nothing without the God Muriel and Benny worshipped. But after all the times he had told God no, God wouldn’t take him now. He’d blown his opportunity. Tears prickled behind his eyes, and he didn’t even wipe it away as a single teardrop slid down his cheek.
“Rex?” Muriel took his hand. “Are you all right?”
He turned tear-filled eyes at her. “I need your God. If He will still have me.”
Chapter 16
Rex?” Muriel reached for his hand. The man who never showed weakness, who bristled at the suggestion he needed help, who scoffed at any mention of God, was crying in public?
“I need your God. If He still will have me.”
Muriel hesitated a second too long. Like the time God got Peter out of prison, she couldn’t believe God had answered her prayers.
Tears cascaded down his cheeks. “I’ve been a fool.”
No one looked directly at Rex, but Muriel sensed the sideways glances. “Let’s take a walk.” She kept her voice low.
“But Benny—”
“Benny will understand. Let’s go.”
They walked until Benny’s voice was only a low rumble in the background, pausing whenever he needed to rest a minute. He led her to a rock on the outskirts of the village where he sank with a sigh. “God has been talking to me for a long time.”
She joined him on the rock, lacing her hand with his. “I know. I’ve been praying for you.” She laughed, somewhat self-consciously. “Do you have any questions?”
He looked straight ahead, not meeting her eyes. “Is it too late for me?”
“It is never too late, as long as you’re still breathing. Have you ever heard of the thief on the cross?”
Rex screwed his eyes shut, as if envisioning the scene at Calvary. “There were three crucifixions the day Jesus died, right? He was one of those men?”
“Yes. The thief was a criminal, maybe something serious to warrant that kind of execution. But when he hung on the cross, dying, he said, ‘Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.’”
“What did Jesus say to that?”
“‘Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.’ He went straight from his deathbed to the presence of God.”
“The original deathbed confession.” Rex’s tone took the sting out of the flippant words. “So you’re saying I still have time.”
“As much as you need, although the Bible also says ‘Behold, now is the day of salvation.’ Are you ready to open your heart to the Lord?” She heard the pleading note creep into her voice. “Can you admit you can’t save yourself?”
Laughing, he circled his crutch around. “I haven’t done such a good job of that lately. Yes, I’m ready. So what do I do?”
“You just tell God what you’re feeling. Admit you’ve sinned. Tell Him you believe Jesus died for your sins. Accept His forgiveness.” With someone else, she might have led him in a sinner’s prayer. But with Rex, he had to reach this decision on his own. She didn’t want to put words in his mouth, like a movie script.
“Do I need to do anything special? Temple my hands, close my eyes?”
“It doesn’t matter. Do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
His gaze grazed the sky. “It’s hard to talk to someone you can’t see.” Looking at her, he said, “I’ll close my eyes, then. So I’m thinking about God and not about you.
“God, I don’t know much about how prayer works. But I guess You already know that. I’m used to being the one giving directions. Do this, go there. But I finally realized I can’t do it on my own. I can’t make up for the bad things I do by being good. I need a Savior. I need Jesus.”
Muriel’s heart melted as Rex talked to God in his direct fashion. He sounded like an actor talking over the day’s filming with his director, accepting the director’s right to make decisions for him.
When at last he raised his face, light beamed from his eyes as brilliantly as Edison’s light bulb. “I feel…strange.”
“You’re a new person. ‘Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.’”
“There you are.” Benny hustled in their direction. One look at Rex’s face, and he let out a whoop. “You finally did it. Welcome to the family, brother.” He threw his arms around Rex’s shoulders.
Rex arched his eyebrows. “Is it that obvious?”
Benny looked at Muriel, and they both laughed. “You’ll find out. The time will come that you’ll sit down at a table filled with strangers, and you’ll know which one is a Christian. Without”—Benny raised a hand in self-defense—“anyone saying a blessing over the food.”
“I guess I have a lot to learn.”
“But you’re not doing it on your own. Not anymore.”
Like a little boy on his first train ride, Rex kept his nose pressed to the window. Muriel stood on the platform, hand raised in a good-bye wave, her face frozen between joy and sadness. Now he was a Christian, the greatest barrier between them had dissolved. But he knew it was too soon. Like a child with a new toy, he was almost afraid that it would break if he played with it too much. He shook his head; this “toy” came with a book of operating instructions. He had purchased a Bible as soon as he’d arrived in town the night before.
The train started moving, the rhythmic motions of the wheels knocking him off his balance.
“Take a seat. You don’t want to hurt that leg now that you’ve finally escaped.” Benny patted the seat beside him. “Besides, you’ll see her again. At the premiere.”
Benny helped him into the seat, an awkward process between the swaying carriage and his cast. He pulled the slim Bible out of his carpetbag. “Where should I start? At the beginning?”
“Genesis is wonderful. The word means ‘beginnings’ and it’s all about beginnings—of the world, of man, of the Jews. You’ll learn about Abraham, the father of our faith. And the start of Exodus is full of excitement and drama, Moses and Pharaoh, plagues and grand confrontations.”
“You make it sound like movie fodder.”
“It is a great story. But after they arrive at Mount Sinai—let’s just say it’s slow going for a while. The law.”
“The Ten Commandments?”
“And the temple, sacrifices, the priesthood, how society should work. That’s getting into Leviticus. Important, all of it, but my annual attempts to read through the Bible falter before I reach the end of Leviticus.”
Rex laughed. “So maybe I’ll start with, what is it called, the New Testament?”
“Good idea. Start with Matthew, read on through Mark and Luke and John. By then you’ll know a lot more about the Lord, not only what you’ve heard all your life. You might be surprised.”
Rex looked at the table of contents and located the page number for Matthew. Hmm, well toward the back of the Bible. He started reading. “‘The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.’”
He became caught up in the words. Several times he noticed that it said “As it is written.” Probably referring ba
ck to passages from the Old Testament, which he had yet to read.
By lunchtime, he had reached the halfway point of the book, chapter fourteen. He set the Bible beside him in the dining car. Over the meal, overdone pork chops with lumpy potatoes, his eyes kept straying to the Bible.
Benny laughed. “Go ahead and read. I’m so glad to see you like this. Hungry for God’s Word. If someone had told me when I arrived at the village that you would be reading the Bible all the way back to Denver, I would have laughed. But I’m so glad I was wrong.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind.” Rex slipped his finger at the spot where he had stopped and started reading again. “I’ve heard about this before. Palm Sunday, right? When Jesus rides into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey? Great pageantry for a movie.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’ve got to stop reading this like a director.”
Benny set down his fork and pushed the plate away. “That’s not all bad. God gave you the gifts that make you so good at what you do. Just remember this is truth, not fiction.”
“I’ll try.” Rex settled into finishing the unfolding events of the last week of Jesus’ life on earth. Hours later, he reached the end of the book. “‘And, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.’” With a satisfied sigh, he closed the Bible. “You couldn’t write a better ending. Dead leader, does the impossible, comes back to life, and gives a stirring speech to the troops. And yet it’s all true.”
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it.”
The waiter appeared with slabs of pie.
“Do you have any questions?” Benny took a bite of pie. “You ought to try it. It’s the best part of the meal.”
Rex considered. “Not yet. I’m going to close my eyes and think about what I’ve just learned.”
Over the next few months, he discovered he had a lot to learn. He devoured the New Testament twice over, then went back to Genesis and looked for those verses quoted in Matthew. Benny came over several times a week, encouraging him, eager teacher to an even more eager pupil.
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