Yes, for months, he had wanted to punish Job in any way possible. Destroy his reputation. Burn his house down. But he didn’t want him killed. He never wanted that.
After his explanation, Bianca said, “What you’re telling me is commendable, Mr. Storm. However, this new story is futile. I’ve long passed your previous account to the proper school authorities.”
Delvin leaned his head against the wall. He was being stalked by his own fears. “Then, you’ve got to convince them that you made a mistake, that your sources were incorrect,” he demanded.
Bianca gave off a heaving sigh. “Which part of the story is true? Is it all a lie? Are you a lie?”
“Listen to me, Ms. Rizzo—”
“No, you listen to me, Mr. Storm. I’m a principal in one school in a huge school district. Allegations such as the ones you told to me are always investigated by a district official. As soon as it was in my hands, it was out of my hands. You and I are just going to have to let this Mr. Wright situation play out.”
Delvin hadn’t been that desperate in his life. His anxiety even surpassed the day he was sent to prison. He had initiated a seemingly unstoppable catastrophic chain of events on Job’s life, and neither he nor Monica deserved it. “So there is nothing you can do, huh?”
Bianca was huffing into the receiver. “I can’t help. Honestly, I don’t want the investigation to cease.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because I have my own reasons,” she said.
Chapter 29
The preparation of the heart in man, and the answer of the tongue, is from the Lord.
Proverbs 16:1
In the first week of October, Vincent Fuquay and Donald Terry listened to Job’s story of losing his firm and Delvin Storm’s role. They told Job that they wanted time to “mull over their thoughts.” Those body-numbing thirty seconds went by without a hitch. Since that time, early mornings and late evenings were devoted to analyzing commercial prospects on their behalf. Job told them that their confidence in him was a blessing from God.
A couple of weeks later, just three days before his trip, Job found it difficult to ignore the adulation he received from the students, colleagues, and well-wishers. It seemed as though everyone he knew, and many he didn’t, wanted to make some presentation in the form of a phone call, card or gift.
At a special assembly in Job’s honor, Bianca presented him with a plaque for which Mountain River’s students, faculty, and staff had pooled their dollars and pennies. She handed it to him, shook his hand, hugged him, and then gave him the most disease-ridden stare he’d ever seen. Job eventually dismissed it.
Job was troubled, however, over Monica’s refusal to accompany him to Florida. Up to the night before he was to leave, she had not changed her mind.
She switched on a happy mood when they attended Monday night’s Couple’s Class. It seemed deceptive, especially since they hadn’t held a healthy conversation in almost two weeks.
Pastor Harris’s message spoke to Job in a special way. He stroked his silver-streaked goatee, which contrasted his cocoa brown complexion. “The Bible says, in John the fourth chapter, that a man is without honor in his own country. Amen?”
The group chorused their acknowledgement.
“Now I’m paraphrasing,” he continued, “because the scripture actually uses the term prophet. To my knowledge, none of you here claim to be a prophet. But I’m sure, if each of us peered into our lives, we would see that we have some knowledge of the future, if we simply do one thing: obey God.”
Someone in the group, who Job didn’t recognize, said, “Amen.”
“Now, we as Christians can say that we see physical evidence, that if we live right, we can reap benefits beyond our needs. We can have pleasant times.”
The group’s responses ranged from low moans to joyous shouts. Job reached over and touched Monica’s arm. There was no reaction.
Pastor Harris raised his voice. “We can have a good time in the Lord before we reach heaven—this is a good testament.”
Job smiled and nodded.
“In the case of each couple here tonight, your helpmate is right here with you. Each of you, individually, carries a half-life; only together can you live true life to the fullest. God’s blessing. God is good.”
Monica was quietly shedding tears. Job wrapped his arm around her. He thought of their struggles and he fought back his own tears.
But that calm, unified feeling lasted a short while.
After class, Job was up late packing for the trip, alone. Monica had dropped him off at the suite and gone grocery shopping. Meanwhile, Larry called to wish him good luck and Godspeed.
“I don’t understand. This has got to be the longest Monica has held a grudge in the history of our marriage.” Job didn’t want to unload his unhappiness, but it seemed inevitable.
“You’ve gotta be patient. She didn’t say she was leaving. She told you she needed time to think, right?” Larry asked.
“Yeah. But think about what? That’s what I don’t know.”
“Let me ask you something, Job. Did you make the attempt to be honest in her sight?”
“It’s all I’ve been trying to do.”
There was a brief moment of quiet before Larry asked, “You remember when we first met, how you attributed your future and fortune to your hard work? How you claimed it was your efforts that made things happen?”
Job was humbled by his forward comments. “Well, yeah.”
“Okay, now, you recognize that your future is not relegated by you. You’re a lump of clay, you’re just sand. Your problems and solutions should be left to a rock that’s higher than you.”
“But the problems are so great.” Job couldn’t help it. He could feel the inner fight to regain confidence, and it seemed to be overtaking him. “But as Pastor Harris says, I’m trying to let go and let God.”
“Then, let Him work for you. Put it in God’s hands. You’re just learning how to make a turn around for the best. Now you’ve got to trust the only one who can be trusted to make it right.”
“I know that this trip won’t be the same without Monica.”
“We all know that. But I tell you what—take the time to really seek God. Orlando’s got some wonderful places where you can get away by yourself.”
“I won’t have that kind of time. The awards ceremonies, interviews, banquets, and everything will keep me busy.”
“Listen, man, you better make the time. Take some time with Him. He made this trip possible.”
Job studied Larry’s words. “By myself, huh?”
“Nobody but you. Uninterrupted time. He can talk to you that way. And you can praise Him in return.”
“And Monica?”
“God will deal with her, whether she believes it or not.”
Five-thirty the following morning, Monica was at the breakfast table, reading the Arizona Informant and sipping on hot green tea when Job came through the hallway with his suitcase.
“You’re still staying?” he asked.
“Umm hmm. Give me a kiss.” It was mere physical recognition of his departure, no passion. “I’ll see you when you get back.”
“At the airport?”
“I’ll pick you up at the airport, yes,” she said. That gave him a bit of assurance that she planned on being there when he returned from his trip.
“I’ll miss you,” he said.
She gave no response.
The front desk called to inform him that the shuttle was downstairs waiting to transport him to Sky Harbor International. Job pulled his luggage into the hallway, and peered down at his cell phone. “I wonder will I need this,” he said, hoping that Monica would have a change of heart and call. Since it seemed that he might get a ring, he shoved the phone down in his pocket. As he closed the door to their suite, he hoped that it wasn’t a sign that he was closing a door to his life, his and Monica’s life together.
He rode to the airport in constant prayer for his person
al safety and for God to protect Monica while he was away. While he prayed, Job focused on Pastor Harris’s words and Larry’s advice for comfort for the trip.
Job understood why they called Disney a land of enchantment. Between the events that took place for the honorees, he took advantage of some Universal Studio tours, the Disneyland theme park, and the Hard Rock Café. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the trip would be better with Monica.
Prior to the award banquet that Thursday evening, he had all afternoon free. He left his room, took the elevator down to the hotel lobby and asked the concierge to hail a cab.
“Where to, my friend?” the driver asked. Job was fond of the gentleman’s obviously British accent.
“Orlando have any mountains?”
“Oh, no. The city is made up of lowlands. Is there any reason you asked?”
“I need a quiet place where I can do some thinking.”
“No mountains. Sorry, chap. Looking for a high place, eh?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Job answered.
“The building with the highest elevation is the downtown Sun Trust Bank building. Rather impersonal, though. Would you like to go there?”
The bank building didn’t interest him. “Where else is there?”
The driver looked up at Job through the rear view mirror. “Pretty amazing, with all the theme parks and the like, you want something different. Well, I guess when I contemplate—the people could be rather distracting.”
Job told him, “I don’t want too many people. I need a calm place.”
“Yes, yes, someplace calm.” The driver signaled a left turn. “I know just the place. You’re not frightened of water, are you?”
“Oh, no,” Job said.
After a twenty minute drive, they arrived at a rather large, but serene, body of water with Orlando’s skyscrapers at a distance.
“You want me to wait?” the driver asked, implying that Job wouldn’t be long.
“I’m going to be a while, but yes.” He handed the driver a fifty-dollar bill. “Please wait.”
The driver tilted his herringbone Kangol forward and shut the engine off. “At your service, sir.”
Job got out of the cab and walked along the shoreline of what the driver called the centerpiece of Orlando, Lake Eola. Lush greenery formed the backdrop of the body of water and, except for a couple riding a gondola, the lake was isolated; perfect for a serious talk.
He didn’t care about the stain that would come if he sat on the grass with his feet in the water. He didn’t look around to see who might be watching him as they tried to determine if he’d lost his mind. People couldn’t offer him a solution. Job needed, wanted, to hear from the Lord.
You told me to prepare my heart, and I’d hear from you. My life is a seesaw. One thing will go right, then another will go wrong. I can’t go on living like this. I NEED YOU.
I went with my own thoughts and ways. It hasn’t worked. Now, Lord, I’m doing all I know. I want your help.
Protect Monica. Help her see that I truly love her. When I think about it, maybe she hasn’t let me in because I haven’t let you in. I’m trying to take that time now.
Job felt his shoulders shake. It wasn’t the chill blowing off the lake. Tears began to fall. He brought his hands up to his face. He peered between his fingers. His vision was starry, like the reflection of the water. He strained to contain the message God was giving him.
I know that I shouldn’t expect life to be easy, but please, help me understand how to place my cares in you. No matter what happens. No matter where I—we—reside, help me to live right even when ... wrong occurs.
It seemed as though eternity went by when it had only been minutes. But a bag full of burdens was lifted. Job felt like he could go on. He would make it another day. Thank you, God.
He received the Teacher of the Year Award that evening with an unusual humility, and a thankfulness that only the One he depended on could deserve.
He went through the remainder of the trip in a fog that only a return to Phoenix could lift.
Chapter 30
And I said unto my master, peradventure the woman will not follow me.
Genesis 24:39
“Good morning,” Monica said. Nami was in Monica’s office tidying files that needed attention. When she flung her head around, her seasonal hairstyle, shoulder-length micro braids, fanned the air. “Aren’t you back a day early?”
Monica wasn’t going to say. Not right away.
“Oh. My. God. I cannot believe it,” Nami exclaimed.
“What?”
“You really did it, didn’t cha?”
“What?”
Nami’s eyes widened. “You taken leave of your senses, true?”
“I might be able to help you—if I knew specifically why you believe I’ve lost my senses.”
“I know what you did.” She shook her finger at Monica as though she were giving a warning. “I know what you did.”
Monica rested her purse, adjusted the jacket of her burgundy two-piece, and sat on the edge of her desk. “Thrill me with your knowledge.”
Nami had a “you can make fun of me if you want” look on her face. “You let that dark, fine man of yours fly off to the Land of Enchantment to enjoy that expense-free vacation ... by himself. I tell ya. You should be horsewhipped! I’d do it myself, but I just got my nails done.”
“What? You would’ve gone with him?”
“Yes, ma’am. If he were my man. Any disagreement we had could wait ’til after the trip was over! You need to take lessons from me on how to do; if I may say so.” Nami’s voice dipped and rose like she was singing calypso.
Monica couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I told you that I had considered staying here.”
“Yes, but I would have wagered a paycheck that you were at Universal Studios with a pair of 3-D glasses for Jurassic Park or some other crazy flick.”
“Instead, I was here, huh?”
Nami displayed her judgmental furrow. “You made the decision, boss. Hope you can live wit’ it.”
“I assure you, I can. I’m glad I didn’t go.”
“So the trip ends tomorrow, and Mr. Wright comes back?”
“Yes.”
There was a brief silence before Nami asked, “Then I’m perplexed. You had vacation time, and you took it. That’s no secret. So, if you didn’t accompany your husband on the trip, where’ve you been for the last five days?”
That sequence of events was vivid in Monica’s heart.
She had every intention to hold Job as he prepared to leave for Florida. Just hold him close, close against her breast so that she could feel the tension of his body and whiff the remnants of his cologne. That way, her senses would’ve been able to retain his being until he returned from the trip.
The Satan in her kept her from doing what she desired.
But the God in her softened her hardened heart right at the moment Job closed the suite’s entrance door. All of her emotions, all of her thoughts and all forms of her resistance, met at a central point and broke her into the deepest sob and strain she had ever known. Not just seconds, or even minutes—hours of crying then a period of rest, only to start crying all over again. She couldn’t control it. She had reason to believe a spirit of sadness had possessed her.
When her melancholy died somewhere near noon that day, Monica wanted to demonstrate her stern exterior by and showing up to work the latter half of that day. She got dressed and everything. But stronger forces wouldn’t let her make that journey.
There she sat, looking like a catalogue model between jobs. Sometime that afternoon, she fielded a call from the Fuquay & Terry firm, who, thinking they were calling the day before the trip, to wish her and Job Godspeed. She let them give their congratulations, but she didn’t bother to correct their mistake.
She spent the early part of the second day automobile shopping. She thought that sampling Beemers, Benzes, and Jags would be satisfying, but when she considered the curre
nt state of her and Job’s finances, that futile exercise made her feel foolish.
Fontella, the only person who knew Monica’s true whereabouts, had taken the liberty of arranging a meeting for her with Pastor Harris, who graciously accomodated her.
“I’m not trying to leave him,” Monica stressed to her spiritual leader. “I want correction. I need God in a real way.”
“Truthfully,” Pastor Harris said, “God hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s not lost.”
Monica felt her heart being pricked. “I just don’t know what to do. I think sometimes that my prayers aren’t being heard.”
That’s when Pastor Harris told her, “Some directions don’t come to you when you pray only. Some things only come when you fast and pray.”
“Fasting?”
“Along with prayer. You would be amazed. That form of seeking God yields powerful results. His spirit sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Take some time while your husband is away to deny yourself.”
For the next seventy-two hours, Monica’s sustenance was four small V-8 juices, water, a package of Bisca Organic Water Crackers, the Bible, and prayer.
She ate and drank just enough to survive. Between her sparse meals, she devoted herself to prayer and reading the Bible.
Pastor Harris was right.
While her body was empty, her spirit took time to listen to His spirit. God made Himself known, and, through prayer, He answered her most intriguing questions.
She didn’t feel like she came out of the fast perfect, but she did come away perfected. She came away ready to love her Job.
“So, what you got to say for yourself, boss? Where were you?” Nami asked.
Thank you, God, for your revelation. “A few days ago, I went into a hole because I was under attack. A few days later, I came out of the hole, fighting. That’s all I can really tell you.”
Chapter 31
Living Right on Wrong Street Page 21
