Riven

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  Brady had a bad feeling as he approached the car. What had this all been about anyway? Did he and Katie not have what he thought they had?

  Bill was standing there holding the gate open and watching. Brady opened the passenger-side door and put the stuff on the seat.

  “Come around to my side, sweetie,” she said.

  He looked at Bill, then back at her. “What?”

  “Come on. Just a taste of what’s to come.”

  He moved to her window, and she reached for him. He bent, and she grabbed him around the neck with both arms, nearly pulling herself out of the car. She planted a deep, passionate kiss on him and smiled. “I don’t care who’s watching,” she said. “You ought to know that by now.”

  50

  Adamsville

  As much as Thomas longed to see Grace at the end of every day, lately it seemed a weight settled on his shoulders and grew only heavier as he neared home. He had come to know well the six or so women who rotated tending to Grace, which one was her favorite, which she merely tolerated. Both he and she were deeply grateful for all of them, of course, and Thomas wondered how other people in their economic situation coped at all.

  Today the caregiver informed Thomas that she had had to call the doctor late in the morning when Grace’s blood pressure dipped alarmingly. “He actually came to the house. And he said something about her blood sugar too.”

  “When was this?” Thomas said.

  “A little before noon.”

  “Did you try to reach me?”

  “I mentioned it, but Grace forbade me to interrupt you at work.”

  Thomas sighed. He wanted to overrule his wife and set a policy with the caregivers that he was always to be informed of any change in her condition, but how would that look? There was no sense putting these volunteers in the middle of his frustration with his wife. Gracie was only thinking of him, but still he very much wanted to be informed of everything.

  Later he said, “Grace, do I have to check in here by phone every few hours?”

  “You need to trust me, Thomas. I know my own body and whether I’m really in trouble. The doctor has said for ages that our goal is to get me to at least a temporary state of remission. He thought we were making progress. The blood pressure thing was a setback, and he tested my sugar level just as an afterthought since he was here anyway.”

  “Tell me you’re not diabetic or even prediabetic.”

  “He doesn’t think so, but he’s asked me to test for a while so he can put me on oral meds if necessary.”

  Thomas didn’t like the sound of that. Already it seemed he had to fight with his insurance company over anything new.

  “Don’t look so glum. I feel better now. And don’t worry about the house call either. The doctor said it was gratis because he knew our insurance didn’t cover it.”

  “Something free from a doctor? Will wonders never cease?”

  “Oh, I think he does fine and would even if I were his only patient.”

  Not wanting Ravinia to feel as left out of the loop as he did, Thomas called her and brought her up to date.

  “How do you explain this, Dad? Why does something like this happen to someone like her?”

  “We are not promised tomorrow.”

  “I just don’t like it, that’s all. Well, let me talk to Mom when we’re done. Are we done?”

  “In a minute. I wanted to thank you for recommending Dirk. He’s been amazing.”

  “That’s no surprise. He’s gifted and thorough.”

  “I’ll say. He misses you, Rav.”

  “He said that? Unsolicited?”

  “I didn’t put any words in his mouth. Have you asked his forgiveness, hon?”

  “For?”

  “Don’t be coy, Rav.”

  She fell silent. Thomas waited her out.

  “He needs to ask my forgiveness too, Dad.”

  “That’s not going to happen unless you two make it happen.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “You don’t miss him?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this right now. Let me talk to Mom.”

  Thomas busied himself preparing dinner and bringing it to Grace, catching snippets of her side of the conversation with Ravinia. As usual, Grace was assuring her daughter that she was not bitter, did not feel she deserved to be spared anything God allowed in her life, and she finally asked her daughter if she could sing to her.

  “Just listen to this,” Grace said. “May I?”

  Thomas could imagine Ravinia rolling her eyes, but she would not be so rude as to deny her mother’s request. And so Grace sang softly.

  Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;

  The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!

  When other helpers fail and comforts flee,

  Help of the helpless, O abide with me!

  I fear no foe, with You at hand to bless;

  Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.

  Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, your victory?

  I triumph still, if You abide with me.

  Serenity Halfway House

  Brady found himself distracted, waiting for Thursday. He still went about all his activities and responsibilities with enthusiasm, but it seemed something was wrong with him.

  He was on a group outing when he missed a call from his aunt Lois, and the message Jan had scribbled for him and left on the desk in his room read simply, “Says she and your uncle are praying.”

  He knew he should call her, but he didn’t need all the church mumbo jumbo just then. Something was happening to him, something he couldn’t describe. Brady had pulled a lot of stunts in his thirty years, most much worse than tearing up a lawn with a motorcycle. Yet he couldn’t seem to get past this. Every time it crossed his mind, he felt worse.

  Brady loved Katie and hoped he had impressed her and convinced her he would do anything for her. But whatever was between her and her father had nothing to do with him—at least until now. He’d been able to explain away every other crime he had ever committed, but this one made him feel like a juvenile—and he was hardly a kid anymore. It had been stupid, senseless. He felt he owed Mr. North for the damage, just as the man had said.

  Brady also felt as if he wanted to come clean and tell the whole story to Bill. Oh, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He would lose every step he had gained and would get his beloved in trouble too. Maybe the best he could do would be to talk to her about it and see if she didn’t agree that he should somehow make it right.

  Thursday couldn’t come soon enough. He had not heard from Katie for several days, not even on the house phone. She had said she was going on some sort of a trip, but couldn’t she have called and at least left a message?

  Unable to clear his mind, Brady noodled a letter to Mr. North. He would ask Katie to deliver it personally. But even as he got into it, he couldn’t find it in himself to simply take responsibility for what he had done. He would not blame it on Katie, even though she had put him up to it. How would that look?

  No, he would offer to pay, but he would have to creatively explain the incident.

  Dear Mr. North,

  I want to say I’m sorry for what happened to your lawn and to tell you to send me the bill for fixing it. I didn’t realize how loud the bike was going to be, and I sure didn’t plan to tear up your yard. That was an accident.

  Please send me the bill and forgive me.

  Your friend,

  Brady Wayne Darby

  Brady found sleep next to impossible Wednesday night. He hadn’t realized until he was out of daily contact with her that Katie had become a lifeline for him, a purpose, the reason for everything he was doing. He wanted to succeed for her.

  In the morning he rushed through every activity, then found the clock crawling as he watched out the window for her car. She didn’t have to take the van anymore, unless her father had followed through on his threats. He certainly had enough on her to get her in real trouble.

  Too much
time on his hands made Brady shift from longing for Katie to dreading his own fate. What was he going to do if Mr. North reported him and everything came crashing down? Katie would have to agree that his letter and his offer to make amends to her father was the right thing to do, end of story.

  Driving herself, Katie had been showing up early on Thursdays, but not today. And when the county van pulled up, a shy, dark-haired girl emerged and slipped Brady a note.

  Hey, Lover:

  My dad is absolutely refusing to let me come back to group there. He got me reassigned. I pitched a fit, telling him I was of age, but he got my PO involved. Let’s just lie low for a while and be patient.

  Love, Katie

  With just minutes before the session was to begin, Brady raced upstairs and scribbled a reply.

  Katie, I’m putting a note in here for you to give your dad. We’ve got to make a truce with him, right? I love you and need you and want you. You’re all I’m living for. Call me.

  Love, Brady

  The girl agreed to deliver the notes back to Katie, but that didn’t make Brady feel much better. He was sullen during the meeting and found himself slouching and scowling, unable to participate. It was so unlike him that it seemed to rattle Jan. She kept calling on him for comments, and he would merely shrug or mumble an “I don’t know.”

  When the session was over and the others had left, Jan told Brady she and Bill needed to speak with him.

  They sat in an anteroom off the kitchen. Brady was not content to wait for Jan to ask him what was wrong. He just dived in. “Sorry about my attitude. I just miss Katie, and her dad is not happy about me.”

  “That’s not unusual for future fathers-in-law of ex-cons,” Bill said.

  That he even mentioned the possibility of Brady and Katie’s getting married raised Brady’s spirits. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me.”

  “Keep your nose clean and complete this program the way you’ve been going, and I’ll be happy to tell anyone who asks that you’ve done everything required of you. I need to tell you something, though. We heard from your contact at County, the antigang guy.”

  Brady held his breath. Had Jordan North already squealed on him? And if so, how did it get to Lieutenant Dale and not to Bill? Or did Bill know too? “You heard from him?”

  “Yeah. He wants you to know that Tiny is out on some technicality, so you’ll want to keep your distance. You made a lot of promises to that guy, apparently, and he may come calling.”

  “He doesn’t know where I am.”

  “Brady, he’s the most connected gang leader in the state. Unless you’re in the witness protection program, he’ll find you. He thinks you’re on your way to Hollywood to find your fortune. You know what that means.”

  “He’ll expect a piece of it.”

  “Of course. For all those years of protection.”

  Brady studied the ceiling. “This is all I need. Once I’m out of here, where do I go to stay away from Tiny?”

  “Anywhere but the city. The west side in particular.”

  Brady’s smile was gone. He felt tired and achy all the time. Couldn’t concentrate. Wasn’t eating. Hardly slept.

  As days passed without word one from Katie, he felt himself changing. Something roiled deep within him, a restlessness. First it seemed like simple impatience, but soon he was testy, defensive, angry all the time. When he called Katie’s cell phone and got only her voice mail, he pleaded with her to call and tell him how her father had responded to his letter.

  And he reminded her how much he loved her and couldn’t live without her.

  The next Thursday the same girl emerged from the outsider van with a note for Brady. He ducked into a first-floor bathroom and locked himself in a stall to tear it open. Desperate for any word from Katie, he found only a terse letter, typed on Mr. North’s business stationery.

  Mr. Brady Wayne Darby:

  Be advised that this is the last communiqué you shall receive directly from me. Anything further will come from my legal counsel.

  The damage you caused has been repaired at my own expense, and while I appreciate your offer of reimbursement, allow me to counterpropose: you never see my daughter again, and we will consider the matter closed.

  Do yourself a favor and don’t imagine you and Katie as star-crossed lovers. She has made a habit of attaching herself to your type over the years, but wake up. No one like her could really be seriously interested in someone like you, and the sooner you accept that, the better off you will be.

  If you find this difficult, grow up. If you violate my wish in this, you’ll regret it.

  Direct any further correspondence to my attorney, but I guarantee that effort will be futile too.

  Most sincerely,

  Jordan North

  51

  Serenity Halfway House

  It had been years since Brady had wept. In fact, he hadn’t shed a tear since his brother’s funeral.

  But now he found himself on the verge of sobs—not tears of remorse or sadness or disappointment. No, this was fury. This was making Brady take a good look at his real self again after playing the going-straight game for too long.

  This man was not going to come between him and Katie. No way. What did Mr. North know of what his daughter felt for Brady? If it was anything remotely like what Brady felt for her, nothing and no one on earth could keep them apart. If she wasn’t interested in a future with him, everything she had said and done was a lie. He would have to hear it from her lips.

  The problem was, Brady could not wait. He simply could not stay at Serenity without knowing where he stood. And if it meant a fight—of any kind—between him and Katie’s dad for his right to continue their love affair, he would stop at nothing.

  That evening, just after dark, Brady used the house phone to call her one more time. “Katie, I know you’re screening calls like you always do. Maybe you can’t talk because your dad is there, I don’t know. But you had better get yourself somewhere where you can call me here at the house. I have to know where I stand, and I have to know now. If I don’t hear from you in an hour, I’m coming to talk to you. I’m waiting by the phone, and I love you with all my heart.”

  Brady paced up and down the stairs, in and out of rooms, avoiding eye contact with anyone. He mustered an “okay” when Jan asked how he was doing. “Heard from Katie?” she said.

  “Yeah. We’ll be getting together soon.”

  “Great! Keep me posted.”

  When the hour was almost up, Brady was so exercised he was afraid to look in the mirror. Something beastly and savage had been born in him that seemed almost physical, and he knew it would show in his eyes. He gathered up all the small amounts of cash he had earned doing menial tasks and stuffed into his pockets about forty dollars and change. As he hurried down the stairs, he ran into Bill. “Need to get out for a walk, man. Gonna pick up some cigarettes. Want anything?”

  “No, thanks. Be back before midnight though, hear? Otherwise, somebody’s got to get out of bed to let you in.”

  “No worries.”

  Despite a chill in the air, Brady was sweaty by the time he reached the highway and thumbed for a ride. A trucker stopped.

  “Trying to get into the city,” Brady told him.

  “That’s where I’m goin’.”

  “West side,” Brady said.

  “You kiddin’? I don’t go in there. I can get you within about half a mile.”

  “Perfect.”

  As they rode, the trucker said, “Seriously, man, unless you know someone in there and they know you’re coming, you don’t want to be caught alone, know what I mean?”

  “I know someone.”

  Forty minutes later Brady was on the street again, second-guessing himself. His fury had not faded. Neither had his resolve. He just hoped someone would believe he knew who he said he knew.

  Almost as soon as he entered the run-down section, he felt eyes from everywhere.

  “You lost, boy?”

&n
bsp; “Wrong neighborhood, son!”

  He kept moving, unsure where he was going. An old woman, bundled up and sitting on her front steps, called out to him. “Young man, you best know your business if you gonna be ’round here. What you up to?”

  “Looking for Tiny.”

  She snorted. “You mean the Tiny? He at County.”

  “Heard he was out.”

  “For real? Well, I know somebody who would know. Stay right there.”

  Brady could hear her on the phone. “Yes, a white boy . . . I don’t know, normal I guess. Not that big . . . No, I don’t think he’s carryin’, but he might soon wish he was. . . . Okay, I’ll tell him.”

  She returned to the steps. “Well, you knew something I didn’t know. My nephew says Tiny’s back where he belongs. Where you know him from?”

  “County.”

  “If you’re looking for some kinda revenge, you gonna be shipped outta here in a bag.”

  “He’s a friend, only I don’t know where he lives.”

  “Lives? He lives where he works, boy. Sixteen blocks north, four blocks east. But you better tell everybody along the way where you’re going, or you’ll never get there.”

  Brady did just that, only once warned that if it turned out he wasn’t really a friend of Tiny’s, he’d get himself messed up. Everybody he talked to was on a cell phone, and by the time he got within a quarter mile of Tiny, it seemed everyone knew he was coming.

  “Here he is!”

  “Almost there, bro.”

  “Tiny expectin’ you by now.”

  He came to an abandoned four-story building with a dozen guys milling about out front. Each reminded him of guys he’d met at County. “Hey, Hollywood! You Tiny’s buddy from the joint, right? Follow me.”