Solomon's Porch

by Wid Bastian

  The answer came clearly and instantly. No.

  Peter knew that what he was asking for was not evil for other men, but it was for him. God must come first, he told himself, and in my case, there can be nothing second. He was reminded that God had saved him from eternal destruction, and whatever He asked was nothing more than reasonable service.

  As he knelt on Alex’s patio in prayer, what Peter was given was not permission from God to retreat into a worldly life, but rather the inspiration and instructions required to implement Alex’s plan. After a few minutes of blessed solitude, Peter went back inside and rejoined the others.

  “Well, what did the Boss have to say?” Gail asked. They all knew what Peter was doing out on the veranda.

  “Alex, you want to tell our story, don’t you? Have us bear our testimony to the world?”

  “Yes, Peter, I do. That seems right to me. Do you agree?”

  “For sure, but there is more, isn’t there. You want more.”

  “The audience loves a show. To attract the maximum amount of attention, it would help if we could do something, uh, how can I say this? Biblical?”

  “Would you like to fly over to Egypt and have Peter part the Red Sea?” Julie said sarcastically.

  “Can we do that?” Alex asked, more than half seriously.

  “No, well not no, but that’s not what the Lord has in mind.”

  Peter spent the next hour going over his ideas, or rather God’s ideas, as expressed through him. Alex took notes and silently concentrated, envisioning how best to implement the concepts. Despite her objections, Gail mostly nodded. She knew by now that once God had given His instructions, it was wiser to listen than to argue. Julie had not yet reached this level of spiritual maturity.

  “I know I’m new to all of this and don’t think I don’t believe. I do,” Julie testified. “But Peter, what you’re talking about is insane. Plain crazy. Do you realize what will happen? Do you even give a damn about Kevin and me? I know you’re not my husband anymore, you can’t be because of God, whatever. I have to live with that. But you say you love me and I know you love Kevin. What am I supposed to tell him after they kill you?”

  “Whether they kill me or not, Jules, is not a consideration. I must obey.”

  “Peter, I can sure understand what Julie is saying. How can we protect you if you do this? Every nut from the tree will fall off and come running after you, not to mention the men who rule this planet. Remember them? They have all the money and the guns.”

  “What do you want me to do, Gail?” Peter argued. “Disobey? Tell the Master no? I am His servant, He is not mine.”

  “Ask Him again. Tell Him it’s too hard. Tell God you have a family,” Julie pleaded.

  “Neither you nor I can bargain with God, Jules. Please, learn this lesson. He knows what is best for us. You must open your heart to Him, Julie. It’s tough, but you’ve got to stop thinking about yourself. Let God take care of you, He’s far better at it than you could ever be.”

  In response all Julie could do was cry. Between sobs she said, “Excuse me,” and left to find Kevin, who had been sent to the stables for the morning so the adults could be alone.

  “Give her some time, Peter,” Gail suggested. “She is still trying to sort all of this out. You know, Peter, despite her many sins, that woman never stopped loving you. Now that the Lord has touched her heart, all she wants to do is be with you. None of this is easy for her, she’s been through hell.”

  “I know, Gail, I know. Seeing Julie like this, vulnerable and open and even a bit humble, how do you think I feel? More than a small part of me wants to run after her, tell her I’ll be her husband again, and find the nearest bedroom where we could spend the next three days naked and alone.

  “I’ve asked, Gail. It is His will that must be done, not ours. Don’t think I’m not hurting too.”

  “Not to change the subject, but … ” Alex interjected.

  “No, please Alex. Change the subject,” Peter begged.

  “Are you sure about this? I mean the first part of the strategy, telling your story, how the men all came to be in one place, God’s revelations, I was expecting that. But Peter, I’m sorry if I sound skeptical, but … ”

  “How did you put it, Alex? You wanted something ‘Biblical’? Isn’t that what you said?” Peter asked.

  “Yes, that’s what I said, but I guess I wasn’t expecting you to take my suggestion so literally.”

  “Why not?” Peter replied. “When it comes to God, the closer you get to Him, the more careful you have to be. If what you want is what He wills, you’re likely to get much more than you asked for.”

  Thirteen

  “I thought this would be easier the second time around. I was wrong. It’s much harder.”

  Fifteen days after the adventure in Judge Grove’s courtroom, Peter and Gail were driving back to Parkersboro. They were almost “home.”

  “Shall I pull over and let you out, dear?” Gail teased.

  “Very funny. You know what I mean. The last couple of weeks have been awesome. Even Julie was coming around by the end. Did you notice that too, Gail?”

  “I did. A couple of mornings ago I got up early and had my coffee out on the terrace. Wasn’t much past six thirty. I heard some mumbling and looked over at the fountain and there was Julie, still in her nightgown and robe, on her knees praying. She saw me and then I joined her.”

  “My Jules praying. Trying to be obedient and righteous. That’s a miracle, Gail … ”

  “But?”

  “But it’s so unfair. When we both finally get it right, we aren’t allowed to be together. I’ve really been fighting my flesh, Gail. You have no idea.”

  “Desiring a little horizontal recreation are we, Mr. Carson?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe, but that is only part of it.”

  “I know, well I think I understand at least. I’ve never had a husband, much less an ex.”

  “Consider yourself blessed. I hope the water is still cold in the dorm. Boy, do I need a long run and a brisk shower.”

  Neither Gail McCorkle nor Peter Carson had much time now for any personal distractions. They had been put on a tight schedule. For Peter especially, this was a blessing. Preaching the Word and living it were two different things, Peter knew that, but the level and intensity of his passions had both humbled and frightened him.

  Panos Kallistos discovered that he still loved his ex-wife, and not in a purely agape manner. He had thought that all of those feelings, those deep yearnings that in so many ways had led him into sin were dead and gone, buried along with his “old man.” Peter’s emotional revelation was anything but trivial. God’s plan for his life, for the first time since his awakening in the prison library, now had some competition.

  Kevin didn’t make it any easier. Like any child of divorced parents, it was his heart’s desire to see his father and mother reunited. Peter did his best to explain why this wasn’t possible, at the same time reassuring Kev that never again would his parents fight or be bitter and ugly toward each other.

  It was during one of these father and son sessions that Peter’s flesh reared up and asked, Why? Why must you say no to your son? After all he’s been through, doesn’t he deserve better? This opened the door for a demon to suggest to him that the God Peter served was a cruel one for not allowing him to have a family. For longer than he would ever admit to anyone, Peter actually considered these thoughts, weighed his alternatives.

  Julie, whose heart had been opened, but who was still so new to Christ that her spiritual weapons had not yet developed, was determined to change Peter’s mind. She believed that the right thing for him to do was to be with her and Kevin. Why he couldn’t do that and also serve the Lord she didn’t understand, or more accurately, she was not willing to understand.

  It was the little things she did that made Peter’s pulse race, and Julie knew it. Walking into his bedroom naked with a bottle of wine at midnight was probably not the right approach
, she correctly reasoned, but brushing up against him coyly when Peter wasn’t expecting it, touching his hand while they talked, spending as much time together with Peter and Kevin as possible, these were among her most effective tactics. For two weeks at Alex’s estate, she pursued this strategy, relentlessly.

  More than once Peter had almost talked himself into the idea that sleeping with Julie was the right thing to do. “We’ve earned it,” he told himself. “She’s my wife in spirit,” he rationalized. “We need the release. It will help us both to heal,” he lied.

  But Peter Carson was not new to Christ. He was keenly aware of the dangers of going off course. Every time his resistance to Julie weakened to virtually nothing, his response was to get on his knees and ask for help. When he did so, always he was strengthened, but the war against his flesh was ongoing and would not be won with a single victory.

  Peter was considering all of this as Gail’s sedan pulled up to the camp.

  As promised, Alex Anderson was there waiting for them. So was his film crew and van load of equipment that Gail had “approved” to be on BOP property, although more than her approval alone was required. When it comes to dealing with the Federal bureaucracy, Gail knew that it was often easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

  Being one of the most recognizable men in America, Alex had drawn considerable attention to himself already in the hour or so he’d been at Parkersboro. Malik had been briefed by Peter on the phone and was providing as much security as was necessary. The only real threat to Alex at the moment was being pestered to death by curious inmates.

  “Told you I’d beat you two here,” Alex boasted, as he greeted Peter and Gail in the prison lobby.

  “Any problems?” Gail asked.

  “None. Malik and your staff have been very accommodating. We’ve already shot about half an hour of B roll. I know where things are, what to do, and when to do it. How are you two?”

  “We were just talking about how nice it was to be ‘home,’” Peter answered snidely. “To tell you the truth, Alex, I prefer the estate.”

  “Pay him no mind, Mr. Anderson,” Gail said. “He gets snippy when he’s frustrated. You wouldn’t believe the nonsense we have to put up with from him around here at times.”

  Before Peter could offer an equally pithy comment in return, his spirit was quickened by the sight of his men. Malik, Saul, Kenny, and Larry had missed their friend and leader terribly, and worried for his safety every minute that he was away. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged all around.

  “We’ve got a surprise for you, Peter,” Larry said, obviously pleased with himself.

  “And I didn’t bring you guys back a thing,” Peter joked.

  Standing off in the corner were two men Peter had never seen before. Neither were dressed in prison khakis and tees, both wore street clothes. As Peter glanced over, they each waved demurely to him.

  “Thought we might get the last two in about now, Larry. What, they just got here, is that why they’re not dressed out?” Peter was feeling happier and more confident with each passing second. Being together with his men settled him and reminded him of his love for God, and the importance of his calling.

  “No sir. They are not Federal prisoners. These men, well, let them tell you themselves. They’ve come a long way, Peter, and like all of us, they knew who you were, and who we were, by revelation long before they arrived,” Larry explained.

  “I thought for sure … ” Peter didn’t finish his sentence.

  “You thought what for sure, Panos?” Larry asked.

  “I guess I had it in my head that we would all be prisoners. Let that be a lesson for us, Larry. Never presume. Never get ahead of God.”

  “We are all prisoners, Panos,” Larry answered. “As long as we walk this world, we’re all prisoners. Besides, if you think they are a couple of innocents, then that will be twice today that you will have been surprised.”

  All Peter could do was smile and say, “Thank you Lord.” He was truly “home.” Home is where your brothers are, he told himself. While it was not the life he would have pursued, recognizing it as the one God had chosen for him and freely submitting to His will returned Peter’s joy and peace to him; the kind of joy and peace that no earthly intimacy could bring.

  It was a beautiful afternoon. Wonderfully temperate, both the chill of winter and the swelter of the Carolina summer were absent. The leaves had returned to the deciduous trees that surrounded the camp, green was everywhere. The air was fresh and pure. The songbirds were plentiful and making themselves known.

  The perfect day and, strange as it would seem to anyone but them, the ideal setting for the completion of the circle, the fulfillment of a promise. Those present all knew what it meant for the seven all to be together in one place and of one accord.

  They met on the outdoor library porch, which by now had become their temple, their holy ground. The other inmates, both God fearing and not, moved away on command, allowing them a measure of privacy.

  But it was anything but a private setting, since Alex and his crew were filming everything, and had placed microphones on the porch to capture the audio. Peter instructed his men to ignore the cameras and the equipment as best they could. Before they got started they rose to their feet, held hands, and prayed.

  Peter was then introduced to Jose Enrique Vargas and Timothy Austin. They were the two new “arrivals,” if that label could be accurately applied to free men at Parkersboro. Jose and Tim were renting a by-the-week apartment in Georgetown, and had been driving into the camp in the morning and out at night for the past few days. Now that Gail was back, their plan was to grab a bunk and spend all of their time at Parkersboro.

  As Jose started to share his testimony, Peter realized that Larry was indeed right, he was very surprised.

  Until two weeks ago Jose Vargas had been General Jose Vargas, the number three officer in the command structure of the United States Marine Corps. Alex had recognized him on the spot, but remained silent, keeping to his self-appointed role of being more of an observer than a participant.

  “Where should I begin, Panos?” Jose asked.

  “Let the Spirit lead, share with us your heart and your history, brother,” Peter answered.

  Jose laughed at himself.

  “Gentlemen. I am accustomed to formalities. Chain of command, duties, rigid authority. It is not at all familiar for me to simply begin anything spontaneously. Forgive me.”

  Jose Vargas spoke in a solid, even locution. His appearance, he was five-foot-ten-inches of muscles, capped off with a flat top, completing his aura of authority. He was a man who both gave and commanded respect, who believed in discipline, a patriot who loved America, drank beer, smoked cigars, idolized John Wayne, and most certainly obeyed the law.

  In sum, the exact opposite of most of the men who now surrounded him.

  Yet as he began to speak, it quickly became apparent that the Lord had touched Jose, and from an early age. Despite all of their differences, the common bond of the calling of God united Jose with his brothers, bridging all worldly gaps. None of the disciples doubted Vargas’ sincerity or legitimacy, but all were very curious to learn how and why the Lord had called such a man to be one of them. Until now, Jose had related only bits and pieces of his testimony, waiting for Peter to arrive to tell all.

  “I was born in Bakersfield, California,” Jose began, “the son of illegal immigrants. Both of my parents were migrant farm workers and day laborers, who slowly killed themselves for starvation pay. My folks lived for me and my brother Ramon. Every spare penny they had went to improving their children’s lives.

  “Unlike almost everyone else I knew in the barrio, my brother and I did not work in the fields or at a sweat shop. We went to school. Because she had to work, my mother could not be home with us when class ended in the afternoon. My brother and I tended to ourselves from first grade on, and kept our noses clean when we were little. As small children, neither of us would risk disappointing our mother
or invoking the wrath of our father. I don’t think many families are like that anymore. Built on pure respect, I mean.”

  “I grew up in the same house in Brooklyn, respect-wise at least,” Saul offered. “How old are you Jose, fifty-five or so?”

  “Fifty-seven, sir.”

  “Well, I understand what you’re saying. Your father was king and your mom was queen. You were at best the regent, and you were expected to return the love and the respect given to you through obedience.”

  “Have you done a stretch in the military, Mr. Cohen? Sounds like we have much in common.” Jose had no way of knowing how absurd his question was.

  When he, and everyone else, stopped laughing, Saul answered.

  “No, my friend, no. I am about as far away from being a military man as one could possibly be. I’m afraid that all of my parent’s best efforts to instill discipline in me largely went for naught.”

  “Just like Ramon,” Jose said softly. “Just like Ramon.” There was sadness in his voice whenever Jose spoke of his beloved older brother.

  “Where is Ramon now, Jose? Does he know you’re here? Is he a God fearing man?” Larry asked.

  “Ramon is scattered across a rice patty in Vietnam, Mr. Coleman. He couldn’t stay off heroin long enough to keep his wits about him during combat. He was probably hallucinating when he walked out into the open for no apparent reason. The VC cut him to shreds.”

  “Lord have mercy,” Peter prayed. “That must have been a tough time for you and your family. Were you also in the military when Ramon was killed?”

  “Yes sir, I was.”

  “Horrible, simply horrible,” Kenny empathized. “How did it make you feel?”

  “Not so good, sir, not so good. I was standing fifty yards away from Ramon when he bought it.”

  General Vargas was the only one of the seven with any military background. Try as they might to be understanding, only Malik could directly relate to Jose’s experience.

  “Seen men die too, General, sir,” Malik said. “Tears your insides out. Especially when it be your own family or when you’re the one doin’ the killin’.”