“Here,” Parker said, raising his hand.
“You can see your grandfather now.”
Parker stood up and got Layla’s attention through the glass wall beside the ER doors. She ended the call and joined him. They followed the nurse down a hallway into a triage room. Frank was lying in a bed with the head slightly elevated. There was a large purplish bump on his forehead, and his right arm was wrapped in a rigid foam brace.
“Cracked, not shattered,” Frank said, pointing to his arm when they entered the room. “The doctor only needed to immobilize it. And I can still cast a rod with my left arm until it heals.”
“What about your forehead?” Parker asked.
“Harder than a boat paddle, I guess.”
Parker glanced at Layla, whose tears had returned. Frank reached out with his left hand toward her, and she grasped it.
“I’d tell you not to cry,” Frank said softly to Layla, “but your sweet tears are a balm to my soul.”
The old man’s words unleashed a fresh torrent from Layla. Parker wiped his own eyes.
“I don’t know what to—” Parker started.
“I do,” Frank said. “Things in life have a way of circling back to the beginning. It’s odd, but I heard you calling my name from a long way off when you pulled me onto the boat. Have I ever told you about the old man I saved from drowning in the Rhine in 1944?”
“No.”
Parker and Layla sat beside the bed while Frank talked. It was another open window into the vast reserve of the old man’s memory and experience.
“And I stayed with Alfred and Otto until the end of the war. Alfred showed me great kindness and mercy.” Frank closed his eyes for a moment. “What happened to the young man who tried to kill me? Did you see him after you pulled me from the water?”
Parker told Frank what he’d done to protect him and about tossing the life jacket to the man in the water before they sped away.
“You did the right thing,” Frank replied with a look of relief on his face. “I’ve carried too many deaths on my conscience, and I don’t want you to labor under that heavy burden.”
“I’ll reimburse you for the life jacket,” Parker said.
“You’d better,” Frank said, managing a small smile.
CHAPTER 43
After they left the emergency room, Parker spent the night with Frank at the older man’s house. Layla arrived early the following morning. She and Parker cooked breakfast together in the kitchen.
“Has he told you anything else?” she asked.
“No, but he insisted on coming home and claimed it was safe. I barely slept. Every time he snored, I thought someone was breaking into the house. I checked on him several times, but he slept soundly through the night.”
“He snores?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Not once in my life,” Parker replied as he poured eggs into a skillet to scramble them.
Frank appeared. He was still wearing his pajamas.
“Two of my favorite people on earth,” he announced with a smile.
“Don’t do that,” Layla said, touching her eyes. “I can’t handle it.”
“Yes, you can. And it’s good for you. Say something cheery to me in German.”
Layla paused and then rattled off a few sentences. Frank nodded and replied in the same language.
“What did she say?” Parker asked.
“She wanted me to tell her how loudly you snore when you sleep, and I told her,” his grandfather said.
“He wasn’t under oath, so you can’t be sure he was telling the truth,” Parker replied as he vigorously stirred the eggs with a white plastic spatula.
They ate breakfast together on the back porch. Parker found some TV trays in a closet and set them up. Frank said a blessing that made Layla cry again.
“I’m a total mess,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“This isn’t all about me,” Frank said. “You’re letting go of a lot that’s been pent up inside.”
Layla nodded. As they ate, they listened to the sounds of morning on the coast. When their plates were empty, Frank took a long sip of coffee.
“Who brewed the coffee?” he asked.
“Layla,” Parker answered.
“Loving hands,” Frank said with a smile that caused Layla to tear up again.
While they sipped coffee on the porch, Frank told them what had happened from the time he was abducted until they pulled him out of the water.
“Are you sure you don’t want to file a police report?” Parker asked when the old man finished. “The longer you wait, the less chance they can find the yacht and the men on it.”
“They wouldn’t have caught them if I’d let you notify them as soon as we got to the dock. And Krieger and his men aren’t a threat to me. Soon they won’t be a threat to anyone.”
Layla’s eyes widened. “Do you mean they’re going to die?” she asked.
“When I told them they wouldn’t recover the treasure of Siena, that wasn’t all I saw.”
“What about Conrad Mueller?” Parker asked.
“I’m not sure,” Frank said and shook his head. “He could be a pawn or a player. The full nature of his involvement with Krieger isn’t clear to me. But I believe he’ll have a chance to repent. However, I don’t know everything. I thought the man in the boat was going to bring me home.”
They continued to enjoy the peaceful morning and one another’s presence.
“There’s something I need to do,” Frank said when he finished drinking his coffee and set the empty cup beside his chair.
“What’s that, Opa?” Parker asked.
“It’ll be easier to explain if I tell you another story.”
And while Parker and Layla listened, Frank told about the night his grandfather placed his hands on eight-year-old Franz’s head and prayed for him. It was the night of fire, water, and snow. As Frank talked, the air on the back porch began to feel heavy and rich.
“I’d like you to pray for me like that,” Parker said when Frank finished.
Without another word, Parker got up from his chair and knelt down in front of Frank. Looking at the curly brown hair on top of his grandson’s head, Frank suddenly wondered if he could do what he wanted to do. After all, his sins stretched out in an unbroken line for so many years that the beginning point was lost in the mists of the past. He wasn’t worthy to lay his hands on anyone’s head and impart a divine gift. His hands had shed too much blood to hold a blessing. He took a deep breath and prepared to tell Parker to stand up and return to his seat.
“Paul once described himself as the chief of sinners.” Layla’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. “And he laid hands on Timothy.”
“How did you know what was bothering me?” Frank asked, turning toward her.
“You and Parker aren’t the only people on the planet who have hunches.”
Frank took another deep breath and refocused his attention on Parker, who hadn’t moved an inch.
“And I’m not getting up until you do what you’re supposed to do,” Parker said. “Even though this hard floor is eventually going to destroy my knees.”
Frank smiled and was suddenly flooded with such an overwhelming sense of the favor of God that it swept away every barrier of opposition in a torrent of grace. He placed his left hand on Parker’s head and effortlessly released the promise of heaven’s will fully into the life of his grandson. When he finished, Layla was once again in tears. Parker stood up. He wasn’t crying. Instead, Frank saw a resolute strength in his grandson that, if nurtured by faith, would last a lifetime.
Layla left shortly after breakfast. Parker stayed. He couldn’t bear the thought of being away from his grandfather, but when midafternoon came, the older man insisted Parker go home.
“I need time alone to think through a few things,” Frank said. “Don’t forget to pick me up Sunday for church.”
“I’ll be here.”
As he was driving home
, Parker’s BlackBerry rang. This time he recognized the number. It was Tom Blocker. Parker answered the call.
“I drove up this morning to New Bern to check on you and Layla. She and I are at the office. I know you’ve been through a lot, but could you join us for a few minutes?”
“I’m pretty drained. It’s not a good time for us—” Parker stopped.
“Please,” Blocker replied. “But I’ll understand if you say no,” he added.
Parker paused for several moments. “Okay,” he said. “I’m on my way.”
He parked his car behind Layla’s vehicle on Pollock Street. The front door was locked, and he didn’t have his key. He rang the chime and waited. Layla opened the door for him. From her face, he couldn’t tell exactly how she felt.
“We’re in the conference room,” she said.
Tom Blocker was sitting at the end of the table where he’d talked to Parker and Frank the day before. Now that seemed like another lifetime. He stood when Parker entered.
“I want to apologize,” Blocker said before Parker could say anything. “If you’d done what I told you to do and come to town for a meeting with Chet Ferguson, your grandfather would have been murdered.”
Parker searched Blocker’s face and found nothing but sincerity. “I accept your apology,” he said simply.
They sat down. Layla selected a chair beside Parker.
“And I want to straighten out another matter with you,” Blocker continued. “I shouldn’t have said I hired you to get the Ferguson case. It was a way to manipulate you to do what I wanted in the moment; however, it wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now. You’re a talented young attorney who would be an asset to any law firm.”
“Thank you.”
Blocker took a deep breath. “And Layla and I have spent the past three hours talking about things we should have discussed and worked through over the past fifteen years. I’ve admitted some of my flaws”—Blocker paused—“and told her I want us to get to a place where she can forgive me. I realize this isn’t going to happen overnight, but once I commit to something, I don’t quit.”
Parker turned to Layla.
“I will do my part,” she said.
“Parker, I want you to continue to work for me,” Blocker continued. “I’ll still be your boss who has the right to tell you what to do, but my commitment today is to shift the paradigm of my approach so you and Layla can be free to explore a relationship with each other.”
Parker eyed Blocker for a moment. “That sounds good,” he said. “But I’m not sure it’s possible.”
“Why not?” Blocker asked, a surprised look on his face.
“Because to make that radical a change in your life, you’re going to need God’s help. Are you willing to go down that road?”
Blocker blinked his eyes a few times. “I’m not sure how to begin,” he said.
Parker put his left hand on Layla’s shoulder. “Let me introduce you to someone who can help.”
CHAPTER 44
Six months later, Parker, Tom Blocker, Greg Branham, and Chet Ferguson walked out of the courthouse. Ferguson stopped at the bottom of the steps and shook hands with the other men.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m glad we were able to settle the case before trial. It would have been tough to relive everything that’s happened since Jessica’s death in front of the jury.”
“I was ready to go to the mat,” Greg said belligerently and then glanced at Blocker. “But with Tom on our side, we were able to get a great result without the fight. Nine hundred thousand dollars is more than I thought possible.”
“And my children won’t have to worry about choosing a college based on the cost of tuition or stress about making a down payment on their first home,” Ferguson said. “I’ll also be able to fulfill Jessica’s dream to make a big gift to the treatment center for alcoholics where she volunteered. They’re going to expand their services for teenagers struggling with addiction problems.”
When they finished talking, Ferguson turned away and began walking toward his car. Greg spoke to the other two men.
“I met with a new client the other day. It’s a product liability claim against the manufacturer of those autopilot gizmos they put in big boats. This one malfunctioned and caused a collision with another vessel that resulted in almost a million dollars in damage. I’m calling it the fender bender on steroids. Would you be interested in taking a look at it?”
“I handled a similar case in the past,” Blocker said.
“Why am I not surprised?” Greg responded. “What do you say?”
“Send it over for Parker to evaluate,” Blocker said. “He’s in charge of the New Bern office.”
It was a Saturday evening in early summer when Creston and Melinda jogged, hand in hand, from the wedding reception to a car that Parker and the rest of the groomsmen had decorated with cheesy sayings about running and love. Creston’s rush to the altar had been slowed by Melinda’s desire for her dream wedding. Or as Creston described it to Parker, preparing for the wedding had turned out to be a marathon, not a sprint. Parker watched as Layla crouched down to get a different angle on the couple as they approached the car. For any other woman it would have looked awkward, but to Parker, Layla was eminently graceful.
After the newlyweds drove off, Parker helped Layla gather up her equipment. It was the same wedding venue where Chip and Kelsey had tied the marital knot the previous year. They loaded the camera gear into Layla’s car.
“Thanks,” she said after they finished. “I’m way behind with editing and may try to review these photos while it’s all fresh in my mind before going to sleep. Will I see you tomorrow morning? Opa sent me a text message that he’s coming to church. Can you believe he sent me a text from his new cell phone?”
“Yes, because it’s you; no, because it’s him. Do you have time for a quick walk along the river?”
Layla hesitated. Even though it had been a warm day, the weather along the coast could change moods faster than a three-year-old child, and an approaching storm was causing a stiff breeze to blow off the water. Parker took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Any other excuses?” he asked.
Layla smiled. “No.”
They walked slowly away from the pavilion toward the river. When they reached the water there was a momentary lag in the breeze.
“Do you want your coat back?” Layla asked.
“No, it looks better on you.”
Layla pushed a strand of hair away from her face. She was wearing black slacks and a yellow sweater.
“I’ve been working,” she said. “You’re the one who’s all dressed up for a wedding.”
They walked hand in hand along the river to a small park. Several decorative streetlamps cast a soft yellow glow. They stopped and looked out over the water in the fading light.
“What’s wrong with your hand?” Parker asked, releasing Layla’s left hand and holding it up in the light.
“Nothing,” Layla replied.
Parker kissed her hand and then reached in the pocket of his pants, took out a small black box, and got down on his right knee.
“Parker!” Layla said when she saw what he was doing. “We haven’t gone to the jewelry store to look at rings. You know how picky I am.”
“They have a liberal return policy, and you’re not helping the mood,” he said, looking up into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, putting her right hand over her mouth.
Parker opened the box. The oval diamond in the delicate setting gently sparkled in the diffused light from the lamps. He took it out and held it at the end of Layla’s left ring finger.
“Will you marry me?” he asked.
“Yes,” Layla whispered as she nodded, her eyes brighter than the diamond.
Parker slipped the ring on her finger, stood, and kissed her. When they parted, he held her left hand gently in his and inspected the ring.
“It looked bigger and brighter un
der the lights in the store,” he said.
“I love it,” Layla said. “And we’re never going to exchange it for another one. How in the world did you know what kind to get?”
“I stood in the store looking at the insane number of options in the case and went with a hunch.”
“That’s the kind of hunch I like.” Layla smiled.
Frank sat on his screened-in porch in the soft morning light and sipped a cup of coffee. Release from his guilt over Siena had been a gradual process. No act on his part could atone for what took place. But he’d prayed. He’d confessed his sin to Parker, Layla, and Eric. And he’d ended up accepting a simple, profound truth that made no logical sense—forgiveness was an undeserved gift.
His right arm occasionally ached if he performed too many chores around the house or made one too many casts with a heavy fishing pole, but he was grateful. A close call with death, whether at twenty or eighty-two, makes life, even if not perfect, precious. And the opportunity for a few final minutes in God’s vineyard caused thankfulness to well up inside Frank’s heart each time his eyes opened to a new morning.
The previous night he’d dreamed about his grandfather. When he awoke, he wasn’t sure if what he’d experienced was a dream or a repressed memory. In the vision, Frank was sitting in the corner of the living room of the house in Dresden while his grandfather spoke to the people assembled to hear him. As he listened, Frank sensed a sweetness on his lips he could literally taste with his tongue. Even in the dream, he knew it wasn’t possible for this to happen in real life, but he couldn’t deny the vibrancy of the message his taste buds sent to his brain. It was a sensation that would never grow old. Light, yet satisfying. Rich, yet ephemeral. Sitting on the porch, Frank licked his lips again at the memory but came away with only the taste of coffee mixed with cream.
Frank arrived early at the church and reserved two chairs for Parker and Layla. The young couple was reason to hope for the future. And Frank knew one of his primary jobs in the vineyard was to pour into his grandson all the wisdom he could. Watching Parker come into manhood was a joy to behold. And Layla was a kindred spirit. Every time she spoke to him in German, Frank felt a connection to the good things he’d left behind.
The Witnesses Page 35
