One Shining Moment

by Gilbert, Morris

  She stood there, the fear of the future immobilizing her nerves. The thoughts of a thousand bleak tomorrows were specters that jeered at her, and only by a direct act of will did she keep her back straight and hold back the tears. Finally she heard voices and turned quickly as Jesse opened the door to say, “Come on, we’re ready.”

  As they drove to the store, Jesse and Adam chatted, but Lylah’s heart was so heavy that she had to force herself to smile and say a word now and then. I’m glad Jesse’s here—I’d be poor company for Adam, was her thought.

  The three of them got out of the car, went inside a shop, and twenty minutes later came out with a tiny gunbelt, complete with toy gun, around Adam’s waist. On his head perched a miniature cowboy hat, and around his neck he wore a bright red bandanna.

  “Get in there, Cowboy,” Jesse said, as Adam climbed into the car. “Be careful with that gun, now! Don’t shoot anybody who don’t need it.” He drove to the park, and the three of them found a shady spot under a grove of trees. For two hours Jesse played with Adam while Lylah sat and watched.

  Finally Adam began to tire, and Jesse came to say, “I’m about ready to drop! I thought he’d never run down. Come on, we’ll take him home for his nap.” Adam fell asleep on the way home, and Jesse carried him inside. Lylah turned down the covers and tried to take the gunbelt off, but Adam clutched it firmly and shook his head. She smiled and kissed him, then she and Jesse left the room.

  “Wish I had his stamina,” Jesse grinned. “He’s got the drive of a locomotive.”

  “I guess we all do when we’re young,” Lylah said. She was suddenly close to tears, and she didn’t want him to see her cry. “I think I’ll take a nap myself. Do you mind, Jesse?”

  “Yes, I do mind.”

  She blinked, thinking he had misunderstood her. “I said—”

  “I know, you want to curl up in your bed and cry. Sorry, I can’t permit that.”

  Her temper flared. “I’m not your little girl! You can baby Adam, but I don’t need any of your sympathy!”

  Jesse took her by the arm, pulled her to the sofa, and forced her to sit down. “Time for us to talk,” he said, sitting down beside her. He made no attempt to touch her, but his eyes were alert, and there was an odd expression of expectation on his face. “And don’t tell me you don’t need sympathy, because I know better.”

  Lylah stared at him, then said wearily, “I’m so tired! And you’re right—I was going to curl up and cry!”

  “No wonder,” Jesse said quietly. “And no shame to it, either. It’s okay to cry. I do it myself sometimes.”

  “Not really?” she said, surprised by his words.

  “Why not? You think women have a monopoly on crying?”

  “Well, most men think it’s a . . . a weakness.”

  “They’re wrong if they think that.” The light from outside filtered through the window, laying its golden bars across the carpet and highlighting the regular planes of Jesse’s face. There was a toughness in his features, in the strong cheekbones and firm mouth. He could be hard, Lylah had discovered, and yet there was a tenderness in him that she’d never seen in a man before. For a time she’d considered that a weakness, but she’d learned that it was that very element that drew her to him. “All the great warriors blubbered like babies—David, Beowulf, Ulysses. They didn’t care what people thought of them.”

  “That’s right. I never thought of that,” she murmured.

  Jesse sat quietly for a moment, then said, “I think men who are afraid to cry—or afraid to do ‘woman’s work’—are afraid of their own masculinity. If a man’s really strong, he doesn’t need to prove it every ten minutes.”

  Lylah sat listening, wondering how this man had learned so much. He knew people better than anyone she’d ever known. When he paused, she said, “I suppose that’s right, Jesse. But I’m a woman, and I’ve hit the end of the line. I’ll cry when you leave, but it won’t do any good, will it? Tomorrow I’ll wake up with the same old problems, and then what? Cry again? I can’t spend my life wallowing in self-pity!”

  “No, and that’s what I want to talk to you about, Lylah,” Jesse said. “You’re headed for trouble, and you’ve got to find a way to handle it.”

  “Headed for trouble?” she laughed shortly. “I’m not headed for it, Jesse—I’m right in the middle of it!”

  “You mean the problems with the picture?”

  “Of course!”

  “Lylah, you’ve got to understand that your financial troubles are not your problem. The problem I’m talking about is the one inside you,” Jesse said. “What do you think, that you’re going to get to some point in your life where there isn’t any trouble?”

  “Why, I suppose that’s what—”

  “You should be smarter than that,” Jesse interrupted. “There’s no place like that. The Bible says that the rich man’s wealth is his strong tower, but towers fall; and what good did all of Diamond Jim Brady’s money do him after he died? It was all gone then, and he had only what he took with him when he stood before God.”

  She stared at him, struck by the total seriousness in his face. “You’re talking about religion, aren’t you, Jesse?”

  “No, I’m not, Lylah. Religion can be whatever a person makes his god. I had ‘religion’ for years and wasn’t ready to meet God. I’m talking about the only thing that can help you have a victorious life—and that’s in the Lord Jesus Christ. I know you’ve heard this before. You’ve heard it from Amos and Owen and Gavin—from Lenora and Christie. You also heard it from your dad, I expect.”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, they’re all good people—”

  “No, they’re godly people, Lylah. The Bible says ‘All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.’ That means that every one of us has failed—that we’re cut off from God.”

  “I know I’m a sinner,” she said stiffly. “I have been all my life. You don’t have to convince me of that, Jesse!”

  He nodded, saying, “That’s good, because I think many die and go to hell because they won’t admit that one thing.”

  She suddenly was flooded with memories—ugly memories of things she’d done—and had thought were safely buried. They came trooping before her, like corpses rising out of secret graves, accusing her, and she began to tremble. “It’s—it’s too late for me, Jesse,” she said, her voice uneven. “You don’t know the things I’ve done!”

  “No, and I don’t need to,” Jesse agreed. “But God knows them. Did you know, Dearest, we can never disappoint God?”

  “Oh, yes we can! I’ve done it a thousand times!”

  “No, you haven’t—because to disappoint means that something expected doesn’t happen. I can be disappointed with you, but God knows the future. He knows not only what you have done and what you’re doing right now—but he also knows what you’re going to do in the future. You see, God is timeless—the past and the present and the future are all now with him. That’s what he meant when he told Moses his name—I Am. Not, I will be, or, I was—but simply, I Am.”

  “That’s too difficult for me!”

  “Sure, for me, too. But there’s one part about God’s time that’s always given me hope. The Bible says that Jesus is the Lamb slain. Let me read it to you.” He pulled out a small, worn New Testament and leafed though the pages. “Right here in Revelation 13 it says that Jesus is the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world.”

  She saw that his eyes were soft and yet excited. “But-what does that mean, Jesse?”

  “You’ve read about how the Jews sacrificed animals? Sheep and goats and rams? Well, the Book of Hebrews, the ninth chapter and the twenty-second verse says, ‘Without shedding of blood is no remission.’ But what blood? God says that the blood of goats and sheep could not take away sin. He turned back a page, then held his place, “Lylah, I’m going to read you a few verses. I want you to listen carefully. This is the heart of what I believe, and I think the heart of Christianity. It says:

  Neither
by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.

  For if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes of an heifer sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh:

  How much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God.

  “And at the end of this wonderful passage, in verses 27 and 28 it says, ‘And as it is appointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment: So Christ was once offered to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for him shall he appear the second time without sin unto salvation.’”

  Jesse said quietly, “It’s all there, Lylah. You are going to die and face judgment—as we all are. But you don’t have to be afraid, for as this same book says ‘For by one offering he hath perfected forever them that are sanctified.’ That’s what the cross was. It was Jesus, the Lamb of God, dying so that all of us might live!”

  Lylah began to tremble. Somehow the words, Jesus, the Lamb of God,” struck a chord in her heart and spirit. Fear came, but as Jesse continued to speak of Jesus and of the cross, she knew that there was hope. Tears came welling up overflowed her eyes, and ran down her cheeks. She uttered a soft cry and then choked out the words, “Oh, Jesse! I need . . . Jesus!

  Jesse at once said, “He’s come for you, Lylah. Tell him you want to turn from all that’s wrong—and then ask him to forgive you.

  “I . . . can’t!” she sobbed. “I’m so rotten!”

  “Jesus died for you, God sent him to die, and now the Holy Ghost is striving to get you to open your heart. When Adam calls to you in fear, you always answer. And right now Jesus Christ is waiting for you to call. Do it now, Lylah”

  Jesse heard her broken cries fill the room, and then after a time he felt her weeping in a different manner. She suddenly lifted her hands, and there was a peace in her countenance he d never seen there. He took her in his arms, and she whispered, “Oh, Jesse—I feel so filled with peace. It’s what I’ve been looking for all my life!” Then she drew back and said, “Whatever happens, I can face it now—as long as I have this!”

  “It’s just beginning,” Jesse smiled. “One day you’ll be with him, but until he comes, every day you’ll be learning to live by his strength. You see, Lylah, the trouble with the picture? It’s his problem now. You’re not alone. Let’s ask him right now to take care of it—whatever he wants to do with it. All right?”

  “Yes, Jesse, let’s ask him!”

  THE ANSWER

  Idon’t like the look of this fellow Hitler over in Germany.” Amos Stuart lowered the newspaper he was reading, a frown on his face.

  “I thought they put him in jail.” Owen was sitting across the table from Amos, looking around at the crowd that had gathered to eat what was probably the final meal at Monarch Pictures. “The man’s a maniac.”

  “He got out two months ago,” Amos shrugged. “He’s pulling his old organization together into something he calls the German National Socialist Workers Party.” Disgust swept him, and he muttered, “You’d think the German people would have had enough of Hitler’s sort after the war.”

  “I hope our boys never have to fight in another war. I thought the last one was called ‘the war to end all wars,’ but that’ll never be—not until the Lord comes back.”

  Amos nodded, then said, “There comes Lylah.” The two men watched as Lylah came out of a side door accompanied by Jesse and Adam. Amos said softly, “She’s a different woman since she found Christ, isn’t she, Owen?”

  “A new creature,” Owen agreed, pleasure on his face. “We’ve got us a fine brother-in-law, Amos—or will have when they get married.”

  “They were waiting to finish the picture, but I guess there’s no point in waiting now,” Amos sighed. “Too bad! It would have been a great blow against crime in this country.”

  “Lylah’s worried about the money we lost—but it’s worth everything to see her so full of joy,” Owen remarked. “Well, it was a good idea, but it just didn’t work. Look—I think she’s going to make a speech.”

  “Farewell address, I guess. Everybody’s ready for it.”

  Amos was correct, for the cast and crew had seen the end coming. Now as they gathered at Lylah’s behest they all were subdued, nobody wanting to mention the failure of Monarch.

  Jerry was seated between Bonnie and Gavin, and looking at the food that covered the table, said, “Well, the condemned man ate a hearty meal.”

  “Jerry, don’t talk like that!” Bonnie nudged him with her elbow.

  Gavin gave his nephew a dour look. “It’s pretty bad, Jerry. We’ve got our flying to fall back on, but it’s sort of the end for Lylah.”

  “No, it’s not!”

  Christie was sitting across from Gavin, next to Mario Castellano, who had crashed the party. Mario had been withdrawn, and now as Christie spoke up, he gave her a curious look. The two of them had sworn Jerry to secrecy about their flight to see Valentino. Now he was glad of it. Two weeks had gone by, and he had given up hope.

  But Christie said with spirit, “God won’t let us down, Gavin. You’ll see!”

  Owen and Pete looked up, surprise in both their faces. They had talked cautiously between themselves, agreeing sadly that the future looked pretty grim. Now they stared at Christie, who caught their looks. “We give up on God too quickly,” she protested. She was very much aware that Mario had made this matter a test case, though she’d warned him against such a thing. Every day she’d prayed that God would save the company, and now as Lylah rose and caught their attention, she was dismayed.

  “I don’t have a long speech to make,” Lylah said quietly, “just a few words.” She looked over the crowd fondly. She knew the name of every member of the crew, and the cast had come to be very close during the days of shooting. “I’ve been in show business since I was a very young woman—I won’t tell you exactly how many years—” She smiled at the wave of laughter, then went on, “But I will tell you that in all those years I’ve never had a better cast or a better crew to work with! You are beautiful—and I’ve learned to love you all.”

  Carl Thomas sat beside Lenora, anger and disappointment in his face. He whispered, “She’s holding up well. I broke the furniture when I heard the bad news!”

  Lenora had invited Major Hastings to the dinner. She glanced at him, then said, “I expect she would have done the same—but she’s had a great change in her life, Mr. Thomas.”

  Carl looked at her abruptly. “Yes, she has. Never did have much confidence in this kind of thing—but it’s held Lylah together.” He dropped his head, then muttered, “But it’s not helping to get the picture finished!”

  Lylah glanced at Carl, seeming to sense his anger. “You all know by now that we won’t be able to finish The Gangster.” She waited until the groan that went up at her words faded, then said, “We’re all disappointed. It was something we all longed to do—but now it appears as though we won’t be able to do it.”

  “We can do it, Miss Stuart! “ Art Blevins, one of the camera crew, spoke up loudly. “You don’t have to pay us—we can wait!”

  A chorus of agreement went up, but Lylah said, “That’s sweet of all of you—just what I’d expect. But we don’t have a star—and without one, we can’t go on.” She stood there, erect and with a gentle smile on her face. “Not long ago, I heard one of you say that it would take a miracle to save the picture. I thought so myself and still do. But though we haven’t seen that miracle yet, I want to tell you about something that’s come into my own life—something that’s a miracle to me . . .”

  For fifteen minutes Lylah spoke, giving a simple testimony of her life. She didn’t spare herself but freely confessed that she’d run from God for years. Then with a glowing face she told how Jesse had come to her and shared the gospel. As she spoke of this, tears rose in her eyes—and not in hers alone! She conclu
ded by saying, “I don’t know what I’ll do tomorrow—but I’m not afraid.” She looked out over the faces, saying, “If anyone had tried to tell me I could lose the thing I wanted most—which was to do The Gangster—and yet not grieve, I would not have believed him. But I’ve discovered that when we lose something, Jesus Christ can take away the pain. As long as I have him—why, I have everything!”

  “Amen!” Owen could contain himself no longer. He rose and went to Lylah, crushing her in his arms. “Pa would have been so proud to see this—and Ma, too!”

  That was the end of the formal speeches. Everyone in the room came to Lylah, many of them unable to hold back their tears. She received them all, smiling, and Jesse was right beside her, with Adam, who watched it all with enormous curiosity.

  Carl came to say with a shaky voice, “Lylah—you’re a gallant lady!”

  “No, Carl—I’ve got a great God,” Lylah said, holding his hand in both of hers. She had grown to love this little man and now whispered, “You’ll love him, too, one day—”

  Then Jesse said, “Now, let’s eat!”

  Despite the sad occasion of the meal, they all seemed to be hungry. They sat down and soon were busy with the food, talking among themselves.

  Christie toyed with her food and was surprised when one of the crew came to say, “There’s a fellow who’s asking for you, Miss Christie. I asked him to wait in Miss Stuart’s office. Wasn’t sure you’d want him bustin’ in on the dinner.”

  “Thank you, Perry,” Christie said. She got to her feet, and Mario rose to go with her. When they were outside the dining area, Mario said, his face rather tense, “Any idea who it could be?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Mario stopped and took her by the arm. “Let me go first, Christie.”

  Christie looked up at him with surprise, then suddenly understood his caution. “You think it might be trouble from Capone?”

  “I don’t think so—but it never hurts to be careful. Just let me go in first.”