All at once he found his angry thoughts being channeled into a quiet but intensely heartfelt prayer. “Why, God?” he breathed. “Why did things turn out this way? How can you blame me for hating old Brayshaw?” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hate him, but I . . .”
All at once he caught himself. “Yes, I do,” he whispered to himself. “I almost like . . .” For the first he realized how often he had replayed in his mind the scenes from that crucial Friday game, almost enjoying the opportunity to pity himself – again and again – as the hero in the tragedy.
“Can I forgive him?” he asked aloud. As though a light had suddenly turned on, he realized that forgiving the coach would mean letting go of the resentments he had harbored against him – and even actually enjoyed.
“Please, Lord,” he began after a long struggle, “help me to forgive Coach Brayshaw. Right now. Help me to stop thinking about how it made me feel.”
For several more minutes he prayed. When he finally opened his eyes he noticed that the sun was beginning to peek through the rain clouds.
• • • • •
That afternoon he heard his name on the loudspeaker system. “Stone to register five. Stone to register five.”
Putting away the box of wrenches he had been sorting, Bucky walked quickly to the front of the warehouse. “Can you take number five for a while?” one of the clerks said. “We’re kind of full up here.”
“Sure.” Several times previously Bucky had manned a cash register during slow periods. With the store’s price scanners, handling a cash register was a piece of cake. He grinned at the opportunity to escape his usual shelf-stocking chores.
Time slipped by quickly. A glance at his watch during a temporary lull showed that he’d been at the new job for nearly an hour.
“I’ll take all of these.” A familiar sounding voice jerked him back to attention.
“Yes, sir.” Without thinking he picked up the first item and ran it over the bar code reader. Suddenly he looked up to see who he was talking to. A sharp tingle ran through his whole body.
“Hey, Coach.” With great difficulty he forced himself to speak.
The man stood in the narrow aisle with his hands on his hips. “Mr. Stone.” His voice held no hint of feeling.
Bucky fumbled for words, his mind racing. To be face to face with the very person who had haunted his thoughts and now his prayers was an unnerving coincidence. “I . . . I guess I never expected . . .” His mouth felt dry.
Mr. Brayshaw looked him over from head to toe. “No, I don’t suppose so.” He glanced around to see who was listening. Slowly he turned until he gazed directly at the boy. “I just want to pay for my things and then be on my way,” he said, not bothering to mask his hostility.
His hands trembling slightly, Bucky scooped the four small items into a bag. Lord, what shall I do? he pleaded inwardly.
Accepting the man’s credit card, he swiped it, his hand trembling slightly, and passed it back to the athletic director. He took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking a lot about last year’s baseball playoffs,” he said softly, his voice unsteady.
A sardonic grin twisted the coach’s mouth. “Well, well,” he said, his voice clipped with terse sarcasm, “we do have something in common after all, Stone.”
Bucky breathed a second prayer before speaking again. “I’ve started to realize how you must have felt,” he said at last. “I mean, it was a rule buried in the fine print. I’d forgotten about it; I guess everybody there did.” A pause. There still were no customers in line behind Brayshaw. “And then to be so close to winning the championship . . . I kind of get now how angry and . . . and . . . frustrated my decision must have made you.”
Unexpectedly, the man remained silent, only giving a little nod, almost of sympathy. Bucky’s pounding pulse began to slow almost to normal. He felt God’s strength filling him. “I guess I want to say,” he concluded slowly, “that for the problems I caused you, I’m really, really sorry.” The boy looked him in the eye. “Maybe I could have planned things better, or figured out a way to head off what those guys were up to. I don’t know.” For a moment he glanced down, then at the coach again. “But what I did made an awful mess for you, and I’m really sorry.” The last three words were a whisper.
Almost mechanically Coach Brayshaw picked up his bag of supplies. “I, uh . . .” For the first time Bucky could remember, the coach was at a loss for words. There was an awkward silence.
Finally Bucky gave a little cough. “Well, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah.” Brayshaw moved listlessly toward the front door of the home improvement center. As he opened it with his one free hand, he turned and looked back at Bucky, his eyes questioning.
“Can I help you?” The words almost came automatically as Bucky waited on the next customer, but his mind lingered over the experience of a moment before. Coincidence? No way! He breathed a prayer of thanks to God before making change.
Pedaling home later that afternoon he felt a curious sense of relief. Over and over he replayed in his mind the scene at the cash register. I’m really sorry. Somehow God had broken through his own resentment and made the apology real. Even as he rode along, he breathed a second prayer, thanking God for creating the “chance meeting” at checkout stand five.
“Maybe I can make it at Hampton High after all,” he mused. With the pain of last year’s playoffs resolved at last, with Sam’s baptism just a few weeks away, and with the nicest girl in high school as his steady friend, maybe life was really worth living.
After supper and a huge plate of strawberry shortcake Bucky excused himself from the table and went into the other room. Fishing for his cell phone, he hit his favorite speed-dial number.
“Hello?” Lisa answered on the first ring.
“How’s it going?”
She hesitated a second. “OK, I guess.” Somehow she sounded strangely subdued.
Bucky frowned. “Anything wrong, girlfriend?”
Lisa gave her little sigh, a habit he’d grown to like. “I . . . I guess I just needed to see you.” Pause. “I haven’t seen you since Saturday.”
“I can fix that.”
Minutes later he pulled up at the driveway leading to the Nichols’ home. Sitting on the porch steps was a familiar figure.
“Hey.” Bucky left his bike out by the curb and strolled, hands in his jacket pockets, up the sidewalk. “Are you OK?”
Lisa didn’t answer. Rising slowly, she reached for his arm. Pulling it out of his pocket, she slipped her hand into his and drew him closer. Slowly the couple began to walk down the street toward a small greenbelt area a block away.
Finally Bucky could stand the silence no longer. “Come on now,” he teased, his voice light. “Did your dog die or something?”
She turned to face him. Despite the warm evening air, he could feel her shivering. Suddenly she buried her face in his shoulder and burst into tears.
Finally she spoke, her voice muffled by the fabric of his jacket. “We’re moving away.”
Chapter Five: Just One Last Week Together
Bucky’s heart froze. For a moment he clutched tighter at the slight form huddled in his arms. “What did you say?” he whispered hoarsely, even though he had clearly heard the words.
Lisa hugged him for several seconds without speaking. Finally she pulled herself loose just a little bit and looked up at him. Her blue eyes were wet.
“We’re leaving,” she said simply. “Next week. Daddy has a job up in Washington.”
Still numb, he led her over to a nearby bench. The young couple sat quietly in the growing darkness. In the distance, just beyond the edge of the park, the street lamps cast soft circles of light. For a fleeting moment, it reminded him of an evening eight months earlier on a bench when he had talked about religion – on a first date! – with her. Suddenly and painfully he realized how much he had grown to care about the girl.
Finally he found his voice. “When did all this happen?”
“Uh huh.”
She slipped her arm through his. “I guess Daddy’s company wants him to transfer up there. Run that whole region for his sales division. So he was checking it out.”
Bucky’s temper flared. “Well, didn’t he tell you this was in the works?”
The girl shook her head. “I knew it was business, but, you know, thought he was just handling some stuff for the company. I never imagined it would involve . . . moving.” Her voice was forlorn.
They sat in the darkness, thinking. At last he spoke again. “What are we going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do,” she responded flatly. “Enjoy each other for one last week.”
“One week,” Bucky repeated bleakly. Then he sat up straight. “What about school? What about selling your house? All that stuff?”
“The company handles all that,” she sighed. “They already have a place for us up there. Near Seattle.”
He groaned. “Boy, that sounds like about a million miles away.”
“May as well be.”
Suddenly he stared at her. For really the first time, he simply looked at her face, memorizing her features – her perky nose, soft lips, damp eyes and cheeks.
“I guess I never have told you,” he said reluctantly, “how much it helped me to have you around last school year.” Shyly he reached up and touched her cheek. “I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”
Lisa held his hand tightly. “Yeah,” she murmured. Then with a smile: “It was my pleasure.”
Suddenly she was in his arms again. “I love you,” he murmured softly. It felt strange – but good – to say the words for the first time.
Several minutes went by with neither of them saying a word. A verse from last week’s Bible study with Sam flickered through Bucky’s mind. All things work together for good to them that love God. The painful ache in his heart began to subside just a little bit. God had brought her into his life – surely he had a plan that would still bring ultimate happiness to both of them.
Quietly, haltingly at first, and then with growing feeling, the two began to share their deepest thoughts with each other. The darkness of the summer evening enveloped them as conversation drew them together. Bucky realized with a fresh stab of pain how deep emotions and caring ran in her.
Finally they lapsed into silence again. “Guess we’re just talked out,” Bucky said at last, managing a grin. He glanced at his watch. “Ouch! I gotta get you home.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost 10:00.”
Lisa stood and held her hand out to him. “Come on.”
On an impulse he leaned his tall frame over and gave her a lingering kiss.
“Mmmm. What’s that for?”
“Everything.” He kissed her again.
She sighed. “The one good thing about goodbyes.”
“We still have a week,” he pointed out.
Lisa was quiet as they walked back toward the house. Suddenly she said, “I wonder what will happen to me with . . . you know, church and everything.”
He didn’t answer. Several times during the hour on the park bench that same thought had crossed his mind.
“I mean . . . what do you think I should do? I’ve been going to church with you every single week. But up in Washington? I . . .” Her voice trailed off in confusion.
Still Bucky didn’t reply. As they reached her front door he turned to face her. “God’ll show you what to do.”
“Yeah.”
When she reached out and clutched his jacket sleeve again, he grinned. “Well, this week we’re gonna see a lot of each other,” he promised.
“OK.” Her voice was a whisper.
• • • • •
The next day at work he was distracted and listless. The thought of facing a sophomore year at Hampton Beach High without Lisa left him with a sense of overwhelming loneliness.
“Watch it, Stone!” a supervisor barked as Bucky, not watching where he was going, nearly knocked over a display of ceramic flower pots. “And these aren’t the parts I asked for. Come on!”
“Sorry.” Sheepishly Bucky replaced the box he was carrying and picked up the correct parts. “Hurry up quitting time,” he muttered to himself.
With about a half an hour to go, he brightened when a familiar face popped into view in one of the aisles of the paint section. “Hey, Litton!”
“How you makin’ out, slugger?” Dan was his characteristically cheerful self, the former feud long forgotten.
Bucky hesitated, then replied, “Not so good. I found out last night that Lisa’s moving away.”
The older boy shook his head sympathetically. “Man, that’s too bad. You and her were pretty close, weren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “‘Specially right at the end of last school year, when we had that big baseball explosion. She really stuck with me through all that stuff.”
Dan’s face was thoughtful. “That was a mess all right. All my fault too, man. I guess I never really stopped to think how bad it was, especially for you.”
“Well, it’s over now,” Bucky said firmly. “You know how it is. You gotta move on.”
“Right.” Dan brightened. “An’ I know just how you can do that!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Hey, you already know what I’m going to say. Go out for the basketball team this fall?”
Bucky frowned, then forced a laugh. “That’s about the third time someone’s pitched that at me.” He paused. “I’m telling you, I figure there’s no way I can play for Hampton High again. Ever.”
Dan edged closer. “Listen,” he said, “you’ve got rights just like anybody else at the school. If Coach was going to hold a grudge against anybody, it’d be me. You know? But I served my suspension, and it’s done with. For sure, you got nothing to apologize for. You got as much right as anyone to go out for the team. No matter what happened last year.” He looked him over with a quizzical eye. “Plus – holy Toledo – you’ve grown about fourteen inches in the last two months,” he added suddenly. “Boy, how tall are you all of a sudden?”
“‘Bout six two.”
The older boy shook his head. “Panthers’ JV squad could really use you,” he said quietly. “With your size and ability.” He scratched his head. “We got a pretty good center in Gorton . . . and I play forward. Chris is a pretty good guard and shooter. But there really isn’t a good second forward.”
“Who’s coaching the JV team this year?”
For the first time Dan hesitated. “Brayshaw.”
“What?”
“I know how you feel,” Dan nodded uneasily. “But the district cut back funds to Hampton during the summer. Old Brayshaw has to double up baseball and basketball.”
“Well, that’s it then,” Bucky said decisively. “Brayshaw’ll pull out a machine gun and empty it on me if I so much as breathe on the door of the gym.”
“That’s so unfair.” Dan sighed and uttered a brief obscenity to himself, then jerked his head up. “Sorry.”
Bucky motioned with his hand, indicating that it was OK. “Boy, it would be fun to play, though,” he said wistfully.
Dan laughed. “Well, pray about it!” His voice sounded sincere.
“I know you’re kidding, but maybe I’ll do that.” Then Bucky looked at his friend and took a breath. “You thought any more about my little Bible study thing with Sam?”
An uncomfortable expression crossed the other boy’s face. “Hey, I’ve been busy,” he retorted, trying to keep his tone light.
“Sure.” Bucky glanced at his watch. “Guess I better finish up here.”
For a second Dan hesitated, then spoke again. “Look, Stone,” he said, almost apologetically. “I know what God and all that means to you. And that’s great.” He licked his lips. “For you, it’s absolutely . . . awesome. But I just
don’t see it for me.”
“How come?”
Dan stood lost in thought for a moment. Then an edge of resentment crept into his voice. “You hear about that TV preacher from Tennessee coming in to Frisco this weekend? Going to ‘claim the city for God,’ or something dumb like that. Bringing in a bunch of his Bible boys – ‘prayer warriors’ – to march around for Prop Eight and drive out all the gays.” He mimicked the televangelist’s style with sarcastic accuracy. “Man, I can’t get into that kind of stuff!” He lowered his eyes. “I mean, what would everybody think?”
When Bucky responded, his voice was understanding. “Yeah.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not that kind of Christian, but I know how you feel.”
The statement took the other boy by surprise. “Yeah, I guess you do,” he admitted sheepishly. He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys, then looked up with a teasing expression on his face. “Tell you what, Stone. If you play basketball, that gives you another whole season to talk me into this God business.”
• • • • •
That evening for the first time, Lisa sat in on the Bible study with Sam. Bucky had offered to postpone the session, but she had insisted. “Isn’t this your last one with him?”
“Well, yeah.”
Her old self had returned to a degree. “I don’t want you to miss your last session on account of me.” A little laugh. “On one condition: you let me come, too.”
Bucky had grinned. “Sure!”
Now they sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room, concluding the series of youth lessons. In a way both boys were sorry to see them end.
“Well, this is it,” Bucky noted with a smile. “Last question, Sam.”
“Yup.”
Bucky read it aloud. “Having chosen Jesus as my Lord and Saviour, I have decided to demonstrate my commitment to the community of believers through baptism by immersion.” He looked over at his friend. “You’ve been saying yes to everything up till now,” he added softly. “What about this?”
Sam had a thoughtful expression. “You know I want to,” he responded, his face glowing.
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 25
