With the memory of that occurrence, I could feel the tears again building in my eyes. Tara, obviously sensing another emotional moment stirring within me, rubbed my back with her right hand.
“Looks like it’s time to brush on the barbecue sauce,” I said with a sniffle.
BEING A CARING father brings with it the responsibility of periodically making sure that my kids eat. That meant that while Jamie and Amy ate lunch with Tara and me—Jenna was eating over at her friend’s house—we needed to put off the storytelling until a little later. But we did manage to, once again, have some quiet time in our own living room as Amy took an afternoon nap and Jamie went back over to Timmy’s house.
With the two of us sitting on the couch, Tara said, “Okay, so you made it through the funeral and the burial. You must have been emotionally spent.”
“I guess I must have been. My memories are a bit foggy about what happened immediately after the burial. The next clear memory that I have was in the early evening, when I found Lydia lying in Mamaw’s bed.”
“My heart…” said Tara, “It aches right now for her. Just picturing Lydia curled up in her mamaw’s bed…” Tara’s breath caught in her chest. A sniffle. A wiped tear.
I nodded.
“She was in a fetal position, her head on one pillow while holding another like a stuffed animal. I could hear soft whimpers as I entered through the door at the foot of the bed.”
BRENT WALKED OVER to the edge of the bed and sat down.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” Lydia said after a moment, her voice barely audible.
He looked away from his sister, to the floor. “Yeah.”
Brent didn’t really know what to say. He had almost skipped walking into the bedroom for that very reason.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” he finally said.
“Me, too.”
They sat there quietly for a couple of minutes. Though all the “extra” relatives were gone, Brent could still hear light activity taking place throughout the house. Their Uncle Mark and Aunt Susan and their mom and dad were the only other occupants. All six of them seemed to need time to decompress. A lot of blank stares and not much conversation.
“You were right, Brent.”
“About what?”
“About Mamaw’s story and us not knowing it.” Lydia was quiet for a moment, then, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. It’s true. I guess I just don’t like the idea that God has anything to do with death. In my mind, I keep trying to make it something the devil had done.”
Brent thought about that for a moment, then responded. “The devil started death, but I think that God likes to be in as much control as possible when it comes to the timing and even the how.”
He knew that, ultimately, it was God who was the supreme authority and the ‘author and finisher’ of their faith. But he was also not so naïve as to dismiss other factors. Each individual—along with humanity’s enemy—could also make decisions that limited God’s perfect will in areas of human life, and that included death.
Nevertheless, the idea bothered him. It still seemed wrong somehow that God would choose to use painful and ill-timed means to call someone home. Couldn’t the Lord just control everything to bring about an outcome that, at the very least, allowed everyone to understand ‘the why?’ Certainly God was big enough to manufacture happy endings. Right?
No one was happy, though. Oh, he knew that it would only be a matter of time before things would return to some form of normalcy, especially back in Ohio, away from the mountains. Away from…
“This house,” Brent said softly.
“What?” whispered Lydia.
“I guess tomorrow everyone’s coming back over here for one last go-through of the house.”
Brent heard Lydia sigh.
“Yeah. It breaks my heart.”
Brent looked at his sister, her chin and lips beginning to quiver.
“We’re saying goodbye forever to ‘Green Gables.’” And with those words Lydia buried her face in the pillow she was holding and began to cry.
The previous year, Brent had heard his Uncle Joe say that he wasn’t comfortable with his mother staying in the old home much longer. The house was just too old, with too many looming problems, including signs of dry rot and termites. He’d said that the house would have to be torn down before too long. And now, ‘before too long’ meant very soon.
The next day, the whole of the family would gather one last time. Brothers and sisters—Brent’s mom, aunts, and uncles—would spend one last day together in the home in which they had all grown up. It would truly be the end of an era.
Lydia sniffled a couple times and pulled the pillow down so that she could look at her brother. “You need to get Mamaw’s and Papaw’s Bibles, Brent. Put them in your duffel bag.”
Brent was taken aback by what she was suggesting.
“Out of sight, out of mind. Right?” she began again. “I mean, I know they would be special to anyone who picked them up, but you really should be the one to have them.”
Just as Brent was about to agree, he felt a check in his spirit. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t have the right, regardless of how much he wanted both of them and what they contained.
“I can’t,” he said. “They’ve got to go to Mamaw’s and Papaw’s kids. They have more right to them than I do. I’d feel like I was stealing them if I hid them.”
Lydia simply nodded.
“Besides, I’ve already heard some of them mentioning certain items to each other that they’d like to take home. Something tells me that we’re going to hear some special stories behind a lot of these keepsakes people are wanting. Should be an interesting day.”
He reached out to Lydia’s head and stroked her long brown hair a couple times. Then he said, “I think I’m going to go upstairs. Should be cool enough by now. I want to do some reading to try to get my mind off of things. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I love you, Brent.”
“I love you, too.”
Elizabeth—Day Two
Brent stood gazing upon Elizabeth as she slept. The sunlight had broken over the horizon, and her bedroom began filling with the light of the dawn.
She had the sheet and blanket pulled up close to her chin, one exposed leg curled over the top of the bedding. She seemed to be sleeping deeply.
Her rapid eye movement alerted Brent that she was in the midst of a dream. He ‘dialed in’ for a moment to listen, investigating whether she would be awakening from something darker or brighter than the day before her held.
“You’re making them all wrong. The peanut butter goes inside the salad dressing bottle.” Now Brent was wishing that he could actually see what she was doing inside her dream.
Wait. Can I?
He focused his attention, trying to figure out how he could see her dream. Visualize her thoughts.
Try as he might, he couldn’t go beyond hearing what she was experiencing, leaving some references unclear, but they were no less humorous.
“I’ve got to get the toothpaste out of the oven before it gets too hot. It’s not there! Maybe it’s in the shed? I’ve got to bring the two forks.”
Brent smiled. He didn’t need to listen to any more to know that while she may be a bit frustrated in the midst of her imaginings, there was nothing bad going on. His smile faded. Now he felt awful. Elizabeth was going to exit that dream only to reappear in her very real nightmare.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Before Elizabeth’s alarm clock could sound off a fourth time, she smacked the off button. Head still on her pillow, she stared at the clock for a couple moments before rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t want this day. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to leave my bed.” She glanced at her window, the blinds closed behind lacy, white curtains that were pulled to the sides. She sighed and just stared. “I don’t want to go out there. I’m…pregnant. There’s something growing in me.”
> Brent walked over to the window side of her bed and sat down. Leaning toward her ear, he said, “There is a baby inside of you. You have a baby growing in you.”
“It’s just tissue right now, though. Right? I get rid of it and go on with life. No one needs to know.”
“I have a baby in me,” Brent began again, louder this time, using a technique that he had once used on a girl when he was in high school. He’d learned not to speak thoughts in the second person, but in the first person in order to get her to think that the thoughts were her own. Maybe it would work in this situation, as well. “There is a growing baby inside of me!”
A pained expression washed momentarily across Elizabeth’s face. “Is it a baby already? Right now?”
“Yes!” Brent was getting excited that his words were penetrating, even if just a little. “I have a little boy or a little girl growing inside of me!”
Elizabeth’s right hand came out from underneath the covers and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No,” she said in a hushed voice. “I am not going there. It’s just a blob of flesh. Way too small to be a baby.”
With those words, she threw the covers off and immediately rolled out of bed. She walked over to her dresser and looked into the mirror in front of her. She lifted the left side of her upper lip into a slight snarl as she looked at the tangled mess that was her hair. She leaned in to look at her eyes. “Well, they’re not bloodshot like last night.” She pulled back and just stared at her reflection for a moment. “I am going to be happy today,” she resolved. “I choose to be happy today, because this is just a temporary problem, a problem that I can take care of in a day or two.”
Brent watched, discouraged, as she went about getting together a clothing ensemble for school. After grabbing her comb from atop her dresser, she walked out of the room, clothes in hand, and headed to the bathroom to take her morning shower.
COLLEEN BURNS WAS also going about getting her morning started.
Brent was very grateful to be freed from the effects of testosterone while visiting the homes of Elizabeth and her two friends. He was able to appreciate who they were as people, minus any temptation to abuse his power.
Colleen was getting dressed while he tried to formulate an idea. But what did he have in his arsenal to grab her attention, outside of shouting to make his ‘still small voice’ heard?
After a few minutes of listening to a cacophony of Colleen’s scattered thoughts, he had the spark of an idea, and with that idea, a decision to experiment.
After Colleen finished getting dressed, she sat down at the edge of her bed. “Okay. This is going to be a good day. I can nail that Western Civ. test today. No problem. Tina and Elizabeth and I can have lunch outside if the weather stays nice.”
While Brent listened to her pre-school-day plans, he knelt down in front of her. He eyed the Bible that was to his right on her night stand. Okay, let’s try this. He took his left hand and put it up to the right side of Colleen’s head, right beside her eye, creating a blinder. He angled the palm of his hand to her left, hoping that she would…
Colleen began to turn her head to the left.
Brent immediately pointed at her Bible with his right hand and continued to angle his left hand—her blinder—toward it. He watched as her eyes locked onto her leather-bound book of Scripture.
“Should I bring my Bible?”
“Yes!” Shouted Brent excitedly. “Yes, bring it! I mean…I’ll bring it!”
“Yeah, I’ll bring it. Why not? Maybe Tina and I can do some study after school.”
Brent was ecstatic! “Yes! Yes, yes, YES!” He fist-pumped the air and spun around, adding a second fist-pump for good measure. “That’s awesome!”
He wasn’t entirely sure how he could use this new ‘god tool’ during the course of the day, but if he could do the same with the other two girls, he knew that this newly-discovered ability could be a huge benefit.
TINA MORRISON WAS already dressed and finishing a bowl of cereal when Brent arrived at her house. He intended to prove that his new skill wasn’t a fluke, but he didn’t get the chance. At least, it wasn’t going to happen as quickly as he had intended.
Sitting alone at the breakfast nook off the kitchen, Tina bowed her head.
“Father,” she softly voiced, “give me wisdom today. I need to be able to hear what you want me to do. So many of my friends don’t know you, and yet so often I spend my time just being a high school teenager that doesn’t care what’s going on around her. People are on their way to Hell, and I’ve got to remember that. Please, use me. I know that I keep praying this prayer and then not actually following through.” She sighed. “And I know I keep saying that, too. But I really do want you to use me in the lives of my friends. I love you. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Brent stood there beside the fifteen-year-old who was pushing through to womanhood. He marveled at her heart’s yearning.
“I was the same way during the early years of my walk with Christ,” he said quietly. “I had a fire in me to share Jesus with everybody I knew.” He felt a wave of conviction and sorrow spilling into his gut. “I was the same way,” he whispered.
Brent didn’t like the feelings that were overtaking him in that moment. He had been sent here to save a baby, but he was discovering that he, too, had his own need of a rescue.
Here he was, twenty-five years old, and in many ways he was spending each day complaining and whining like a preteen. Where had his maturity gone?
Brent silently stared at Tina for several seconds as she remained quiet, her head still bowed.
“Tina,” he whispered again, “thank you for showing me that I need to man up.”
He turned away from the breakfast table, walked over to the kitchen’s island, and leaned back against it. Looking up, he said, “Joshua, I know you’re not going to give me help during all of this, but I know that you’re still paying attention and listening. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. If I’m allowed to ask, help me to step back up to the plate and be willing to face the challenges before me with the right attitude. I’ve still got questions and I’m still not happy with how you’ve handled everything, but I do know that I’ve been acting like an immature kid.
“I’m going to handle this situation the best way that I know how. I intend to save Elizabeth’s baby. The least that I can do is show you that I’m going to give it my all. I believe that I can finish what you’ve given me to do. I will save a life today.”
BRENT CONSIGNED HIMSELF to another day of trying to fight all the distractions that were high school. It was a constant battle in such an environment to get someone to listen to him and to take action. Apparently, it was going to be either Tina or Colleen—his only choices at the moment—who would have to intervene to help Elizabeth make the right choice.
Choice. A bit of irony there.
Brent’s musing was cut off by the mention of Elizabeth’s name in someone else’s mind. He had made it possible for himself to “hear” the thoughts of anyone who was relevant to the situation at hand, and now he was hearing the internal voice of a yet-to-be-identified young man.
Immediately, he transported himself into the presence of the one whose thoughts had caught his attention. It was Jason Foy, Elizabeth’s ex-boyfriend. Father of the child.
Jason was propped up, his right shoulder against the corner of two intersecting hallways. He stared down the length of a row of lockers, watching Elizabeth. Brent could see that she had no idea that she was the subject of his voyeurism.
“She’s still hot, but that’s not going to last very long.”
Brent watched the situation with great interest. Elizabeth was putting some books into her locker and taking others out. She then gazed into what must have been a mirror on the inside of her locker door. She appeared a hollow shell of the girl she must have been before her trials began. A quick glance down the hallway caused her to freeze abruptly, eyes locked. She had noticed Jay.
“Dangit!” thought Jay. “What do I
… Okay, play it cool. Just back away and head down the hall behind me.”
Brent heard Elizabeth’s thoughts at the same moment.
“Oh God! Jason! He’s just standing there, staring! What does he want? What does it mean? He still likes me? Wants me? Do I say something?”
Brent knew that she wanted to just close her locker and run for him, but Jay took a step backward around the corner, pulling himself from her view.
Jay: “That was so stupid! I should have known better. Now she’s going to think…”
Elizabeth: “Maybe he does still like me. The baby! Maybe he’ll…”
Jay: “I don’t want anything to do with that baby. It needs to go away. I should have just walked straight over to her and given her the money to have an…”
Elizabeth: “Maybe I won’t need to get an abortion!”
Brent’s heart sank.
What a horrific culmination of thoughts from the two of them. She was going to end up crushed. Again.
Frustration, bordering on hostility, brewed within Brent. He threw his hands up into the air and shouted. “Really? It’s got to become even more complicated?”
That’s horrible! What a jerk! Does he have any idea what it’s like to be preg—?” Tara’s tirade sputtered to an end when she saw the grin appearing on my face.
“Umm…” she started again. “You don’t think I’m getting too emotionally involved in this story…do you?”
“Of course not! That’s just silly.” I thought I could keep from laughing, but I was wrong.
The combination of BBQ chicken and pork chops, a good story, and a wonderful listener was the perfect way to spend part of a lazy afternoon. That my wonderful listener happened to be my wife made it even better.
Usually, I was the one on the receiving end of stories. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying that she talks too much. Not at all. It’s just that I’m usually on the quiet side of our little equation.
Behind the Darkness Page 14
