by Gregg Stutts
“No, it hasn’t changed.” Max took his mug and walked to the end of the deck, turned, and walked back. “Well, I don’t think it has.” He thought for a moment. “No, it hasn’t changed. I’ll love the baby either way. But I guess I’m afraid of always being reminded it’s not only not my child, but the result of an affair.”
“If in fact it isn’t your child.”
“Well, sure, there’s a chance it could be mine.”
Willy was quiet for a moment, then asked, “See that sailboat out there, Max?”
“Yeah, looks like fun.”
“It’s starting to move at a pretty good clip,” Willy said. “Have you ever been on a sailboat?”
“Not in a long time.” He swallowed some coffee and sat down. He knew Willy was about to make a point about something.
“I used to have one, so I can tell you this—if you don’t have the sail up, the wind doesn’t do you much good.”
It was still early, but Max very much wanted to figure it out before Willy asked him if he understood. “Yeah, the sail can be helpful like that.” He glanced at Willy who looked just the way he did when he was trying not to laugh in the waiting room.
“Max, you’ve got your sail down.”
He really wanted to say something smart, but the moment passed and fortunately, Willy continued. “God is always at work, Max. He’s always up to something in our lives. His power and wisdom and favor are always available to us, but we’ve got to be in a posture to experience Him. We’ve got to have our sail up.”
“And I’ve got mine down?” Max said, no longer feeling the need to be smart.
“I think we can have our sail down and not know it. Until something goes wrong,” Willy said. “Then we feel it.”
Max watched the sailboat glide effortlessly across the lake.
“You’ve been through a lot. In the last year, you experienced the death of one of your players, almost lost your job, fought to win back your wife and save your marriage, and you were attacked by her…” Willy stopped in mid-sentence.
“You can say it, her ‘ex-lover’ attacked me in my own home. The man who might be the father of the baby we’re about to have.” Max shook his head. “So what does it look like to raise my sail, Willy?”
He wasn’t surprised when Willy responded with a question of his own. “What do you think it looks like?”
The screen door opened and Rose stepped onto the deck holding two plates and set them on the table. “Who needs their coffee refreshed?” They handed their mugs to her then Willy prayed, “Good Lord, thank you for this delicious food and for my wonderful wife who made it for us. Amen.”
A minute later, Rose set two fresh mugs of coffee in front of them and kissed Willy on the forehead before going back inside. The only sounds on the deck for the next several minutes were of chirping birds and two hungry men gorging themselves on cinnamon rolls and biscuits and gravy.
Max finished the last bite of his second biscuit and said, “I have a hard time believing God is good.” He took a large bite of his cinnamon roll.
“Hmmm.” Willy swallowed a bite of food and wiped his mouth. “Why do you think that is?”
Using a piece of his cinnamon roll, Max scooped up some icing and popped it in his mouth. “I know it’s my expectations. I still think life should be easier than it is. I know it’s a naive way of thinking, but when things get hard, it’s confusing to me when a loving God doesn’t do more to help.” He waited for a response, but Willy was busy soaking up as much gravy as he could on his biscuit. “I know the world is messed up and things aren’t as they’re supposed to be, but still…”
Willy used his finger to get the last little bit of gravy, then let out a long, satisfied sigh and leaned back in his chair. “No, they’re not, Max. In this world we’ll have trouble. Unfortunately, that’s just reality.”
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t have to like it,” he said.
“Ever heard of J. Vernon McGee?” Willy didn’t wait for a reply. “He once said, ‘This is God’s universe and He does things His way. You may have a better way, but you don’t have a universe.’”
“J. Vernon sounds like he had some stuff figured out.” Max was quiet for a moment. “Well, since I don’t have a universe, I guess I better learn God’s ways.”
“I don’t believe in formulas or easy-to-follow steps to get rich or find happiness or any of that sort of stuff, but I read something recently that really caught my attention. The apostle Paul wrote, ‘I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it’s with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength,’” Willy said.
“So that’s having my sail up?” Max said.
“You don’t have to have it all figured out,” Willy said. “I think it’s a matter of wanting Jesus more than we want other things.”
“I think I do sometimes. And sometimes I just want things to be easier. Actually, that’s most of the time.” Max finished his coffee. “I can’t keep going the way I am though. I need my sail to be up and catching as much wind as possible.”
“We’re all going to need our sails up,” Willy said.
He studied Willy for a moment. “Why do you say that?”
“Just a feeling.”
Chapter 6
It was noon by the time he left Willy’s. It felt like the temperature had increased at least twenty degrees. On the way home, he stopped at the fishing hole where they’d first met nine months earlier. It seemed like the most appropriate place to do some serious business with God.
He parked his truck, got his Bible from the glove compartment and walked down the path to the lake. The water in the cove was calm, interrupted only by an occasional fish breaking the surface. He sat down on a large rock close to the water’s edge.
He tried to pray several times, but it took fifteen minutes before he could formulate any kind of a meaningful prayer. “Lord, I guess I’ve had my sail down. Again.” He tossed a rock into the lake. “I don’t know why I keep doing that.”
He could see on the far side of the lake the sky was getting dark. Usually, thunderstorms didn’t roll in until late afternoon at this time of year.
“I’m going to need your help to put my sail up and believe you.” He tossed another rock. “I’m going to believe you really are good. No matter what. I have to. I can’t keep living like this.”
Dark, swirling clouds were already over the western shore of the lake. The breeze was picking up and the temperature felt like it had dropped a few degrees. “So, Lord, here I am again…giving up control…giving up my desire to have things always work out how and when I want them to.”
He picked up the Bible lying next to him, flipped through it, stopped at Isaiah 43 and read:
“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God…”
It felt just like the day in the Bentonville jail. It wouldn’t have felt any more real if God were speaking out loud. He wanted to stay longer, but could see the rain moving across the lake headed right toward him. He scrambled up the hill back to his truck just as the rain hit the windshield.
He was surprised by how quickly the clouds rolled across the lake. A clap of thunder shook his truck at the same moment a flash of lightning lit up the sky. The storm was right on top of him. While he waited for it to pass, he opened his Bible and read the passage again.
It was raining so hard, he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. He watched as the rain was already forming little rivers flowing down the hill into the lake.
When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown.
Chapter 7
Monday, June 1st
On Monday morning, with the summer season now in full swing, Max d
idn’t need to be at school, which was nice, but he was still up early. He’d decided this would be the summer of “raising his sail” to catch all of God’s power that he could. The plan was to spend time each morning reading the Bible and praying. It was only day one, but it was already clear he would need a plan. Opening to a random page as he’d been doing didn’t seem to be a solid, long-term way to read the Bible.
He read a chapter from the gospel of Matthew and then prayed for Michelle and the baby. He poured a second cup of coffee and went to the front door to retrieve the newspaper. It was a warm, but low-humidity morning, so he took the paper and his coffee to the back deck and was about to open the paper when his cell phone buzzed.
“Good morning, Willy. What’s up?”
Willy wasted no time in getting to the point. “Max, what do you know about the Freedom Protection Act?”
He’d actually forgotten about it. After meeting with Willy on Saturday morning, he and Michelle had enjoyed a quiet, relaxing couple of days. And for the first time in quite a while, he had suggested they attend church on Sunday. After church, they took a nap together, which Michelle had tried to turn it into more than just a nap, but he was still too nervous about her polyps and told her they’d have to wait. The irony of him telling her they couldn’t have sex was not lost on him.
“I saw something in the paper on Friday, but there weren’t any details. Why?” Max said.
“I don’t think you’ll find many details in the paper,” Willy said. “At least not yet. I don’t think the city council is ready for it to become widely known.”
“Why? What are you talking about?” Max said.
“Did you see that Andy Reynolds was found dead?” Willy said.
“We saw it on the news the other night,” Max said.
“Max, Andy called me last Thursday. I’ve known him since he was a little boy. I was good friend of his dad’s before he passed away. Andy said he needed someone to talk to. He said it was big.”
“What was it?” Max said.
“He didn’t say. He just said he was going out of town for the weekend and would call me this week. I didn’t know he was dead until I saw the paper this morning.”
“And you think it has something to do with the Freedom Protection Act?” Max asked. “Did Andy say that?”
“No, he never mentioned it, but his call came the day after the vote,” Willy said.
“So how do we find out about the Freedom Protection Act?” Max said.
“Let me make a few calls and see what I can find out,” Willy said. “I’ll let you know what I learn.”
“Just be careful.” But it was too late. Willy had hung up.
Chapter 8
Max went inside to reheat his coffee. He set the microwave for 30 seconds, and then went to check on Michelle.
“What time is it?” she said.
“Almost 8:00. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while? A few more weeks and neither of us will be getting much sleep.”
“I don’t think I could,” she said. “I’ve been awake for a while anyway.”
“Can I get you some breakfast?” Max said.
“That sounds good…but know what sounds even better?” she said as she smiled and lifted the covers.
“Look, Shelle, it’s not like I don’t want to, but…”
She let the covers drop and said, “Okay, but you know where to find me.”
“Yes, I know where to find you and your raging hormones,” he said. “Give me a few minutes and then join me on the deck. I want to tell you about a conversation I just had with Willy. Really strange.”
He got to work in the kitchen making his special scrambled eggs with cream cheese and chives, then cut up some fresh strawberries and bananas. He got it all plated and set their food on the table outside just as Michelle joined him.
“Mmmm, looks good.” She took a bite of eggs. “So, tell me about your conversation with Willy.”
He took a sip of coffee and tried to figure out where to start. “It’s about the Freedom Protection Act. I think. Willy said he got a call from Andy Reynolds the day after the vote.”
“The councilman that died?”
“Yeah, Willy said Andy wanted to talk to him about something, but didn’t say what.”
“Does he think the Freedom Protection Act and Andy’s vote had something to do with him dying?”
“I don’t know. He said he was going to dig around and see what he could find out.”
“He’d better be careful,” she said.
“That’s what I said too.”
His phone buzzed. “It’s Willy.”
“I’ll be right back,” Michelle said, then went inside.
“What’s going on, Willy?”
“We need to talk. Right away.”
“Yeah, okay.” There was silence. “Willy?”
“What?” Willy said.
“Go ahead,” Max said.
“With what?”
“With whatever you wanted to talk about.”
“Oh no, Max. Not over the phone. I mean we need to talk in person.”
“Alright, then I’ll come over,” Max said.
“We need to talk now. In person, Max.”
“Yeah, I got that part, Willy. I’ll see you in half an hour.”
Michelle came back outside with a glass of orange juice and sat down. “So, what’s up with Willy?”
“I’ve never heard him like that before,” Max said. “Something has him spooked.”
Chapter 9
As he drove to Willy’s, he felt an ache in his shoulder. He rubbed it and felt the scar tissue he’d gotten the night he was attacked by Chris. Every morning when he showered, the scar was a constant reminder of the man Michelle had slept with. As much as he tried not to dwell on it, every day of her pregnancy was also a reminder of Chris.
He told himself that the past was in the past and the baby could be his, but some days were harder than others. They’d tried getting pregnant for years after losing Sarah and then after just a few weeks with Chris, Michelle conceived. What were the odds?
He was doing his best to never bring up Chris or the affair. She never mentioned it either. Not her time in New Jersey. Not whatever happened between them. Not the possibility the baby she was about to give birth to didn’t belong to her husband.
Were they moving on in a healthy way or living in denial? He had no idea which it was. He pushed those thoughts aside as he walked to Willy’s front door, which opened before he even knocked. “Come in, Max. Let’s talk in the kitchen. I’ve got some coffee going.”
He took a seat at the table while Willy poured two cups of coffee. “Where’s Rose?”
“Sleeping late. She was snoring away when I called you.” Willy took a sip. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“So, Willy, what’s up with not being able to talk on the phone?”
Willy ran his hands through his hair and paced the kitchen. “Do you know who Dan Jenkins is?”
The name was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. “It’s not ringing a bell.”
Willy sat down then stood up again and looked out the window that overlooked the deck. Max waited for him to continue. “I told you I was going to dig around and see what I could find out about the Freedom Protection Act. Dan is on the city council, Max.” Willy stared at him for a moment. “To be honest, I’m not sure I want to draw you into this.”
“Draw me into what? What are you talking about?”
Willy was pacing the kitchen. “I thought Andy Reynolds sounded nervous the day he called me. Well, Dan Jenkins is nervous, too. And he was able to fill in some of the pieces for me.” He stopped and looked out the window, then at Max, then out the window again, then at Max.
“What is it, Willy? Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Dan said there’s no way Andy committed suicide. He thinks Andy was murdered.”
“Murdered? Why would he think that?”
“For the way he voted.”
>
“The way he voted?” Max said.
“On The Freedom Protection Act,” Willy said.
“So, Dan thinks somebody killed Andy for the way he voted, but then why is Dan nervous?” Max asked. “Wasn’t the vote 6 to 1? That means Dan voted in favor.” He watched Willy pacing again. “Did Dan tell you any more about the law?”
“It’s about freedom of speech and firearms. More accurately, it puts limits on speech and bans firearms.”
