“The father leans forward and brings his snarl another inch closer to poor Preacher Jones and says, ‘Now, why don’t you tell me the real reason why you want to convert? And don’t try any guff on me.’
“Well, sir, poor old Preacher Jones knows he’s lookin’ his last chance right square in the face. And he knows if he don’t talk real quick-like this fella’s probably gonna help him on his way back to where Peter’s waitin’ for him. So he tells him. Yep. Tells him the whole thing. All about dyin’ and goin’ to heaven and meetin’ Peter and what Peter said and what Coughlin did and just everythin’.
“‘Bout halfway through the reverend’s story, that old boy leans back in his chair and commences to chuckle. The chuckle gives way to a laugh every now and then, and ‘fore long the laugh is pretty much constant. Then a nurse comes by and tells him the hospital was in a quiet zone and a surgeon down in the basement had just asked if World War Three had started up. So Father Prentiss tones it down pretty much, but he’s still chucklin’ and slappin’ his knee and wipin’ his eyes when Preacher Jones finishes up.
“When the father finally gets a hold on hisself, he asks the reverend, ‘So what’s he like, Saint Peter?’
“The preacher doesn’t quite know what to make of that, seein’ as how it ain’t nothin’ like what he thought he’d hear. So he stammers around and says, ‘Oh, ‘bout what you’d expect. Old guy, long beard, white robe, big book, that kinda thing.’
“The big fellow chuckles a little more, says, ‘You sure got yourself in a fix, haven’t you?’
“Preacher Jones realizes right then and there that the father believes him. And mixed in with his shame at bein’ stuck in a tight place is a whole lotta relief. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Guess I have.’
“‘Seems to me like old Peter mighta had two reasons for sendin’ you back,’ Father Prentiss rumbles. ‘One reason for you and a second reason for me.’
“Preacher Jones ain’t real sure he understands what the father’s goin’ on about, but he didn’t feel like he was in a position to be questionin’ the man, if you see what I mean. So he just sat there, real quiet-like, and waited.
“The father thought a while, and said, ‘Tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna sit right here and I’m gonna tell you ‘bout the church. I studied the history of the church a lot, it’s a hobby of mine. And I’m gonna try and show you how it got to where it is today. How does that sound?’
“Preacher Jones ain’t all that sure he wants to hear all about church history, but it’s kinda hard to see himself arguin’ with a fellow that big, so he says, ‘Yeah, that’d be just swell.’
“So right then and there Father Prentiss commences to talk. And he talks for three solid days. I’m not jokin’ nor jestin’. Three days the father sits there and talks to Preacher Jones. He’s there when the reverend wakes up in the mornin’ and he talks until the reverend falls asleep at night. And what’s more, the preacher listens.
“On the first day Father Prentiss talks about Paul’s death and the early church in Rome and the Catacombs and the lions in the arena. By suppertime he’s just gotten into the conversion of Constantine, and how the church became an official body not long after.
“The next day they march through close on a thousand years, right through the Dark Ages and the Holy Roman Empire, on to the Medieval fiefdoms and past Martin Luther and the bloody Reformation Wars. And then on day three Father Prentiss finishes up with the past three hundred years before lunch, and spends the rest of the day talkin’ ‘bout the church of today.
“Like I said, Preacher Jones stays with him right the way through. And despite himself, the more he hears, the more interested he gets in what the father’s sayin’.
“Then Preacher Jones commences to rememberin’ some of the things he’s said and done before he got sick. And he wonders if maybe somewhere along the line he shoulda spent a little more time studyin’ before pronouncin’ judgment on the Catholics.
“Not that he feels much different, mind you. He still believes the church’s wrong about a lot of things. But what amazes the reverend most is that he seems to agree with a lot of what the father says. But he’s still a Catholic. And a priest. And the more he listens to the fellow talk, the more convinced Preacher Jones is becomin’ that the man’s a truly devout Christian as well. And this surprises the preacher somethin’ powerful.
“By that third afternoon the father’d gotten’ kinda hoarse, but he’s still pushin’ on. And toward the evening he starts talkin’ ‘bout himself.
“‘I don’t agree with a lot of what goes on inside the church,’ the father says. ‘Some things I hope someday I’ll be able to change, but most of it I know I’ll just have to swallow and accept. And it don’t bother me all that much, I gotta say. It really don’t.
“‘See, I figure the earthly church is kinda like clothes on the body of our Lord Jesus Christ. A lot of these criticisms I hear bandied about nowadays between churches is about like condemnin’ somebody on account of him gettin’ the buttons done up wrong on his shirt. People aren’t seein’ to the heart of the matter, far as I’m concerned.
“‘The real question is, does this particular church help this particular person come closer to knowin’ Jesus Christ in his mind and heart? There ain’t another thing in the whole wide world that makes any difference. If this person needs a fancy church with all them pictures and candles and stuff, fine. Yeah, and maybe that church makes a lotta mistakes in the way they worship our Lord. A lot of them. All right, I’m not saying they don’t. But do they recognize Jesus Christ as Lord? Do they understand what the Trinity is and do they teach it? And do they help each individual to grow closer to the Heavenly Father?
“‘That’s what’s important for me. That’s why I’m a priest. Not because I like all the fancy clothes and the ritual and that stuff. I could take it or leave it. That’s kinda why I figured I’d be heading for some little mission in the Amazon or someplace, ‘cause I really don’t care whether all that stuff is there or not. But some people do. Why don’t matter. Not to me, anyway. All I gotta do is to make sure those people recognize what’s behind all those trappings. That they’re just road signs pointing the way to our Lord.’
“When the father’s finished, they sit there for a long time real quiet like. The father’s quiet on account of his throat bein’ pretty raw, and the preacher because he’s got so much to think about.
“Finally old Preacher Jones sighs and says, real quiet and bashful, ‘Think it’s about time we started talkin’ about me convertin’.’
“Father Prentiss reaches over and pats the reverend’s shoulder with a hand ‘bout the same size as the blade on an earthmover, and says with a real hoarse voice, ‘Ain’t no need to talk. If you’re converted to Christ, we’re already on the same side of the fence.’
“‘Don’t recall ever having heard somebody talk quite so nice for so long before,’ the reverend replies. ‘Thank you for your troubles.’
“‘Think nothing of it,’ the father replies. ‘I’ll come by and see you again tomorrow.’ Then he wishes the reverend a good night’s sleep, and leaves.
“But that night the reverend has hisself another heart attack in his sleep. When he opens his eyes, he’s standin’ there in front of old Saint Peter again, with Father Coughlin right there beside him.
“Preacher Jones nods a hello to Peter, but doesn’t pay him all that much attention. He’s got something more pressin’ on his mind. He says to the father, ‘I been wrong.’
“‘Brother, you ain’t the only one,’ Father Coughlin replies. ‘You sure had your hands full, trying to manage that bunch.’
“But Preacher Jones don’t want to hear all that just then. He’s got somethin’ he’s just achin’ to get off his chest. He tells the father, ‘Your Church has got a role to play too. An important one.’
“Father Coughlin’s like most preachers. Once they get started talkin’. Their mouths get in gear and don’t wanna stop. He tells Preacher Jones,
‘I believe I’d rather live with a cage full of gorillas than try to shepherd that flock of yours.’
“Old Peter steps forward wearin’ this big grin, says, ‘All right, all right, you fellows’ve got a whole eternity to work this out.’ He kinda shooshes ’em through the gates, on account of neither one of them’s payin’ Peter much attention right then. Peter herds ’em along to where there are these big racks of halos and such. He leaves ’em to sort themselves out, ‘cause a coupla other new arrivals popped up right then.
“Father Coughlin and Preacher Jones play around for a while tryin’ on halos of different sizes and makin’ each other laugh. Then Preacher Jones spots this other rack off there to one side, and he grabs Father Coughlin by the elbow.
“‘Here, Father,’ old Preacher Jones says. ‘Let me help you try on some wings.’”
****
“TJ! TJ! Wake up, man!”
“Honey! Can you hear me? What is it?”
Heart pounding, sweat streaming from every pore, TJ opened his eyes and focused on two very frightened faces.
Jeremy and Catherine stopped their cries, peered carefully into his face, and went limp with relief. Jeremy said hoarsely to Catherine, “Stay here. I’ll call for an ambulance.”
TJ struggled, managed to croak a no.
“It’s all right, honey,” Catherine said, her hand trembling as she stroked his shoulder. “Everything’s all right.”
“I don’t need a doctor,” TJ said, his heart beginning to slow its frantic pace.
Jeremy seemed uncertain. “I think somebody ought to see you, TJ.”
“I’m okay, really,” TJ said, and feebly raised his arms. “Help me up.”
“You sounded like you were choking,” Catherine said. “I thought you were having a stroke.”
They helped him stand, stripped off his soaking pajamas, remade the bed, helped him into dry clothing. TJ was there but not there, with a calm now that touched and quieted them all. His limbs were limp, without strength, unable to support his weight.
Together Catherine and Jeremy guided him back down, settled him under the covers, and stood hovering above him.
“That must have been some nightmare,” Jeremy said.
“It wasn’t a bad dream,” TJ said quietly.
Catherine sat on the edge of the bed, took his hand, asked, “Can you tell us about it?”
He stared at her a long time, his face aglow with an unearthly calm. He turned and bathed Jeremy with the same light, said, “My two very best friends. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for the two of you.”
Catherine stroked his forehead, asked again, “What was it, honey?”
TJ was silent a long time before saying, “You know what is written on the tomb of Martin Luther King, Jr.?”
“I don’t see what—”
“Free at last,” TJ murmured. “Free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Tuesday morning TJ sat down behind his desk, basking in his sense of calm. The morning prayer meeting had been wonderful. He knew no other word for it. The President had been back, seated again with his wife, both carrying Bibles and smiling good mornings to the crowd that stood respectfully for them.
The message this morning had been on love, and the prayer had asked the Lord to join them together in the presence of His divine love. Once again a sense of glorious peace had descended upon TJ, accompanied by a love so strong that he had been forced to stop in mid-sentence. He had prayed that all had felt it, that all had sensed the power.
Nak stood by the doorway to his office, watching him quietly. “Is there anything I need to be doing?”
TJ shook his head, felt the renewed impact of last night’s dream, tried to think of something to say. It all seemed so unimportant now. “I suppose we have more requests from the media?”
He nodded. “Amy Lou’s typing up the list now.”
“Why don’t you call Tom Nees, ask if he’d like some more publicity. If he says yes, tell them all to meet us down there at five o’clock this afternoon.”
“All right.” Nak stayed where he was. “That was really wonderful this morning, Mr. Case. I mean it. I felt …”
“I understand,” TJ nodded. “Thank you, Nak. I’m glad it had meaning for you.”
Linda stuck her head in the door, said, “Sir, I have the President’s secretary on the phone. President Nichols would like to see you right away.”
TJ sighed, stood, said quietly, “It has been a great pleasure working with you three. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
He walked up to Nak, who put out his hand, said, “Whatever happens, sir, I just want you to know that I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”
“Me neither,” Linda agreed.
“I’ll second that,” Amy Lou said, moving up beside Linda.
“You people will never know how much your support has meant to me,” TJ replied, realizing they thought he was saying these things because the President was going to fire him. He decided to let it rest. “Nak, I want you to work with Bella and take over the prayer sessions.”
The normally impassive face showed instant alarm. “Me?”
“Yes, you. For as long as you are here. I spoke with Bella this morning, she’s willing to continue coordinating things.”
The young man nodded. “All right, sir.”
“Good.” He forced a smile. “Don’t look so sad, you people. You have got to keep in mind that I was sent up here with a mission. The important thing is not how long I stay, but that the Lord’s work is done.”
“We’ll miss you,” Amy Lou said quietly.
“May the good Lord bless you and keep you all your days, all of you.” He patted Nak on the shoulder, smiled at the girls, and left.
The President’s secretary was waiting for him at the guard’s desk. She was an immensely professional woman, who held herself very erect and showed perfect poise as she greeted him. A simple yet elegant gray wool dress with a single strand of pearls and carefully styled gray hair carried out her aura of authority and warmth.
“It certainly is pleasant, having a little sunshine after all this rain, don’t you think?” She treated him as if he were a visiting dignitary about to receive a presidential award. TJ found himself responding in kind.
She showed him into the small lobby just off the Press Pool, said, “I wonder if you would mind waiting just a few minutes. When I came downstairs the President had just taken a phone call.”
“Not at all.”
“I know he very much wants to speak with you. I’m sure he’ll only be a moment.” She smiled and left him.
As soon as she had left the room, TJ felt the Spirit come. He smiled, first because the Presence was an enormous comfort coming at such a moment, and second because there was not to be one single opportunity lost.
TJ sat down in one of the wing-back chairs, felt the calm and the power and the love spread throughout his being, found he could not stop smiling. These moments had truly been the most complete of his entire life. He lacked nothing, he wanted for nothing, he needed nothing more.
“Mr. Case?” The secretary stood in the doorway, smiling down at him. “The President will see you now.”
It surprised him a little that there was no further buildup, no incredible surge of power, as had happened the last time. The Holy Spirit filled him with a gentle calm, a peace that surpassed all understanding. The love he had known that morning during prayer was back, and as TJ walked down the hall behind the President’s secretary, he found himself feeling as though they were somehow connected. He nodded to the guard standing duty outside the President’s door, and again sensed a bonding, a union that was there in the presence of the Lord.
The secretary opened the door, said, “Mr. President, Mr. Case is here to see you.”
“Show him in.”
TJ walked into the Oval Office, saw the President bent over his elaborately carved desk, busily signing papers. “
Be right with you, Mr. Case. Make yourself comfortable over there by the fire.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.” Again he wondered at the absence of the forceful power as before. He was anticipating another confrontation, another stern warning. Yet there was nothing but this deep, abiding sense of divine love.
President Nichols stood up, walked around his desk, said, “You’re not going to blast into me again this morning, are you?”
TJ stood to shake the President’s hand. “It doesn’t look that way, sir.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I speak as the Spirit tells me to speak,” TJ said, feeling as though his heart, his entire being was reaching out in love.
“So when you came barging in here the other day, it was God who was telling you what to say?” The President did not seem to find the concept absurd.
“Yessir. Giving me the words, and filling me with such a power that I thought my chest was going to explode.”
“Well, if somebody had tried to tell me about this last week I’d have laughed them out of the office. I tried to ignore it Friday, and being so angry with you helped. But I’m convinced it’s real. I have difficulty believing I’m actually saying it, but I’ve learned when to trust my gut reaction. And my wife is absolutely sure you’re for real, Mr. Case. I suppose you know it was she who brought me to the prayer meeting yesterday. And saved you your job, by the way. I was set to fire you after that barrage on Friday.”
“Yessir, I was expecting it myself.”
“And you still went on and said what you did?”
“Spoke to you, spoke to the television, and to the press.” TJ wished there were some way to describe what he was feeling. His mind was sheltered in unearthly peace, like the waters of a still, deep pool. “Mr. President, I honestly do not feel like anything I have said or done here has been without the Lord’s direct guidance.”
The President thought that one over, asked, “What’s it like?”
The Presence Page 35
