by Tracy Krauss
"Proven by who?" Harmony asked. "Some scientist somewhere that doesn’t want to entertain the existence of a supreme being? There’s been plenty of evidence to show that dinosaurs and people coexisted. The scientific community just doesn’t want to take a serious look at it because it would blow all their precious beliefs in the theory of evolution out the window. They’ve spent too many billions brainwashing the general public to admit that they could be wrong after all."
She was beginning to sound a lot like Rocco, Mark decided. "They, as you say, are also highly educated professionals, trained in scientific methodology. You also forget that I’m one of them."
"Hey, nothing personal. I’m just laying it on the line for you."
"And where did you get all your wisdom?" Mark asked.
"You sound kind of defensive," Harmony noted. "I’ve been reading up on it. It was a subject that always kind of bugged me. Somehow what I’d been taught in school didn’t sit well with my personal convictions about God. But I never really found any very satisfying answers."
"Until?" Mark prodded.
"Well, I found several sites on the net," Harmony explained. "Mostly all trained professionals and scientists, too. They’ve got all kinds of scientific evidence that’s never made it into any major scientific journals."
Mark was sceptical. "There’s probably a good reason for that."
"Hey, what ever happened to you?" Harmony asked. "I remember a day when you had as much faith in God as I do. You’re one of the people who said I had to be myself, who God created me to be."
"I guess I grew up," Mark said. "It’s all well and good for you, if that’s what makes you happy. Personally, I prefer to put my faith in things that can be seen, not some invisible benevolence."
"But that’s just it, Mark. Don’t you see? You can’t see, or prove evolution any more than you can prove creation. None of us were there to witness it firsthand. But the evidence is overwhelmingly in favour of intelligent design. It takes a lot more faith to believe that this whole world, so delicately balanced right down to the minutest detail, could have happened by chance. I’ll send you some information some time.”
Their father walked into the study. "It’s been a long day," he said before sitting down himself.
"Where’s Mom?" Harmony asked.
"It’s been a pretty stressful day for your mother," Russ said. "She went to lie down. She’d got a bit of a headache."
"Hmm. Maybe I’ll go see if she needs anything," Harmony decided. She gave her father a kiss on the cheek, and then turned to her brother. "Think about what I said, Mark. ‘The heavens declare the glory of God; the earth proclaims the work of His hands.’ It’s all right there for you to see, if you’ll just open your heart to see it."
Both men watched her exit. Russ looked amused. "Your sister been lecturing you?" he asked.
"You could say that," Mark replied with a smile. "She’s certainly not lacking in conviction."
"She never was," Russ agreed. "She’s like her mother. Once she’s decided on something, she goes for it one hundred percent. What was she trying to convince you of?"
"We’d been talking about some strange discoveries at the site I’ve been working on." He almost didn’t want to say anymore. His father was sure to side with his sister on the matter.
"What kind of discoveries?”
Mark swallowed. How was he ever going to explain this to the scientific community if he couldn’t even tell his own father? "We’ve found something pretty - unusual, Dad. Human remains purposely buried with the remains of what appear to be Pterodactyl." He waited for the response.
Russ didn’t say anything for a moment, then rose and went to his bookshelf. He took down a volume and handed it to Mark. "Here. You might be interested in this."
Mark scanned the cover. Great. A book about God. Just what he was afraid of.
"I’m not asking you to believe what I say," Russ said. "Read it for yourself. With an open mind. It’s written by a scientist who’d made some discoveries himself that he couldn’t at first explain. In the end he came to one conclusion. God created the heavens and the earth. He’s put years of research into that book. I think you’ll find it fascinating, if not enlightening."
Mark turned the book over and read the back cover. He raised his eyebrows at the author’s credentials. Maybe he would take a peek later, just to satisfy his curiosity.
"Yep, your sister has her mother’s enthusiasm for adventure, and the ability to see the silver lining in everything. Now you, you’re more like your old man. Don’t take anyone else’s word for anything. You want to figure it out for yourself - to test all the angles and mull over all the possibilities. I wish I could convince you to see things my way based on my own experiences. But I know that’s not the way you tick. I understand that perfectly, and I respect it."
Father and son sat silently for a time until Mark spoke up. "Ever wonder what our lives would have been like if you’d never met Deanie?"
"Sure. Lots of times. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d still be stuck in my own self-righteousness and bitterness over your mother. It’s because of Deanie that I gave my life to Christ."
Mark thought of the woman who had given him birth. He’d never met her and his father did not talk about her. From the bits of information he’d been able to piece together, she had abandoned them when Mark was just a baby. Apparently it had been a marriage of necessity, which she was not ready or willing to commit to. She had never attempted to contact him or establish any kind of relationship. Mark had only seen one picture of her at his grandmother’s house. It was taken the day of the wedding. His father had not kept any reminders of that painful period in his life. His baby pictures started at about four months of age, shortly after Miranda Graham had left. Mark had held secret resentment toward her as a child, as well as a sense of inadequacy. What mother would abandon her baby unless he didn’t measure up in some way? Now, as an adult, he was over those feelings. He felt nothing but remote apathy that occasionally bordered on the curious.
"So what are your plans, now, Son?" Russ asked.
"I need to get back as soon as possible," Mark replied. "I know it hasn’t been much of a visit, but there are some important developments that I really need to get back to attend to."
Russ nodded, understanding full well the driving need to keep one’s commitments.
◇ ◇ ◇
Later that night, in his bed in the spare room, Mark flipped through the book that his father had given him. Petrified tree trunks running directly through several layers of the geologic record; human and dinosaur footprints found side by side; evidence of catastrophic flooding throughout the earth; countless flaws in carbon dating and cover ups galore, some of which never got removed from science text books. Fascinating, if not credible. He might enjoy reading the book after all.
A light tapping sounded at the bedroom door. "Come in," Mark said, setting the book aside, and sitting up a bit in the bed. It was Deanie.
"Your Dad tells me you’re thinking of leaving sooner than expected," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Yes. There are some - problems on sight that need my attention. I really can’t stay," Mark explained.
"I understand," Deanie said. "I just wanted to say how much it’s meant to me, for you to come all the way for Jack’s funeral. I was a bit out of it today, and I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate it."
"Jack was pretty important to me. I wanted to come."
Deane smiled. “He always looked on you like his own grandson, you know.”
"And he was, and always will be, my Grandpa," Mark offered.
"You know, he said some things before he died that I think he wanted you to hear."
"Like what?"
"He said that he was sorry that in all the times you spent together, he never gave you any real advice that mattered."
"That’s not true. He always gave me lots of good advice. Why, I came to him with everything, and he alwa
ys delivered."
"I think he meant about spiritual things," Deanie said gently. "He never was one much for religion, you know that. And I think toward the end he felt bad about that, like he had somehow turned you off God because he had never believed. You were always so willing to listen to whatever he said."
"I think I eventually grew up enough to make up my mind on most things. No need for him to worry on that account."
"But he realized he was wrong, near the end. That he did need Jesus. I think that’s what bothered him the most. That now he knew Jesus and maybe you didn’t."
"So my whole family thinks I’ve turned away from God," Mark stated quietly.
"Have you?"
"I don’t know. Maybe I never really belonged to Him in the first place."
Chapter Ten
Mark had plenty of time to ponder the question on his flight back to Africa. He had believed in God as a child because he’d seen the evidence of change in the lives of the people around him.
Mark remembered the turbulence of those early years well. His father, normally a conservative and self controlled individual, had veered off course in an uncharacteristic fashion and begun a relationship with Deanie, an ex rock and roll junkie and daughter of jazz great, Jack Burton. When Deanie ended up getting pregnant, she and his father had married. The early days of their union had been anything but peaceful.
Mark recalled the harsh words that were exchanged when they thought he wasn’t listening, covered by pretence when they knew he was. He remembered the times Deanie had snuck him over to her rock and roll friends’ rehearsal studio to listen to them play. His father hadn’t been pleased. Then Deanie had run away for a short while. It wasn’t until she went into premature labour and she almost lost her own life in the process that things started to turn around. Through it all, Grandma Graham had been praying, and apparently her prayers had paid off.
After that, his parents turned to God and started attending church. The change in their behaviour and outlook was truly remarkable. Not to say that they never had problems, but somehow they managed to work it out. His father was still the conservative accountant he had always been, but without the judgmental perfectionism. Deanie remained her flamboyant and fun loving self, but she too learned to trust God instead of her own resources when the going got tough.
Mark had witnessed these changes firsthand. He had been about twelve at the time, and although he had always been sent to Sunday school before that, and had been ministered to by his Grandmother, he had never really experienced a living faith like what he saw in the lives of his parents and their friends. The evidence of positive change in his own family should have bee proof enough of the existence of God, but sometimes he’d felt more like a spectator.
His grandmother said it was okay; that not everyone had the same emotional response to God. He was naturally reserved and reflective like his father, so he accepted his lack of emotionalism as normal.
But his scientist’s mind opened up to other possibilities as he grew older and went on to study at university. Some of the things that he had witnessed as a child were just not logical. Added to that his own lack of spiritual connection with any unseen forces, and he came to the conclusion that most of what he had witnessed was human emotionalism, pure and simple. Not that there was anything bad in that; as emotional creatures, people needed an outlet of some kind, and he was glad that his parents had found something that seemed to work for them. But he’d long since dismissed any need that he might have himself for such an outlet. He had his work, and the fulfillment that he felt with each new discovery was enough to keep him going for the time being.
Or was it?
He wondered at the unsettled feelings he’d experienced when Deanie had brought up Jack’s faith. Mark had always looked up to Grandpa Jack as an importer of wisdom. To find that he had succumbed to the same kind of blind faith as his parents was news that left him feeling strangely upset.
The journey back to the archaeological site also afforded Mark plenty of time to read the book his father had given him. It was surprisingly well documented in its attempt to undermine the pervasive theories on the origins of the planet and life on earth. It also presented some interesting alternatives a.k.a. creation, which, if not altogether convincing, were food for thought. Certainly, the concept of intelligent design, be it by a benevolent Creator or by some other form of advanced being, explained many of the discrepancies that the more accepted theory of evolution only seemed to exacerbate. It pricked enough of an interest in Mark, at any rate, to have him wanting more. He would have to do some research of his own.
◇ ◇ ◇
Mark arrived back at the archaeological dig armed with new insight into the possibilities of creation theory, and plagued with his own resistance at believing it. He felt like a man being pulled in two directions. At some point, joints and muscle would be severed, as neatly as if he were on one of those ancient inventions of torture.
He had also stopped in Harare, and secured the remaining time they had left from the original four-month contract he’d negotiated last time. At least that was something.
"So? What news?" Rocco asked, joining him the moment he’d stepped from the jeep.
Mark took out a hanky and blew the dust from his nose. "We’re back to the same time frame as before," he replied, stuffing the hanky into his back pocket. "That gives us less than six weeks."
Rocco swore in Spanish.
"I know, I know," Mark agreed. "But it’s better than nothing. Your work crews still going around the clock?"
Rocco nodded. "Another day or two, maybe. That’s it. We’ll rescue the king, don’t worry, Boss."
"I’m counting on it.”
Mark strode to the tent where he knew he would find Laura. She was leaning over the microscope as usual.
She looked up, relief at seeing him obvious in her eyes. "What took you so long?" she teased.
He didn’t smile back. "I want all - and I mean all - of the artefacts crated and ready for transport to the States. Only do what cataloguing is absolutely necessary. Any other analysis can be done later."
Her eyes widened. “What’s going on?”
"We’ve only got a couple weeks to wrap this up. I’m afraid the government isn’t taking too kindly to what they consider unnecessary disturbance to the temple. I’ve explained the magnitude of our latest discoveries, but they seem adamant in their original time frame. And I don’t want to take any chances with what we’ve discovered here, either. I got wind that some of the more nationalistic minded in the government don’t want any artefacts leaving the country. Before they come in here and start asking for access, I want everything safely on its way. We can always plead ignorance and return it later. Once it’s safely at the university in New Mexico we can piece it together then."
"I had the feeling something like this would happen," she said. "I’m already on it."
"Good." He turned to leave.
"Um, Mark?" Laura asked tentatively.
He stopped in his tracks. “Yes?"
"Aren’t you glad to see me?” A hopeful smile softened her lips.
He blinked. He had been so focused on the task at hand he hadn’t even stopped to consider niceties. "Oh. Oh, yeah." He waved awkwardly, then turned abruptly and strode from the room.
◇ ◇ ◇
Later that night, Laura snuck into his tent. It had been awhile and he was only human…
They lay now, on the narrow cot, his arm behind her neck, her head cradled against his chest. Mark laid there, his eyes fully awake, staring at the ceiling.
"So how was your family?" Laura asked quietly, playing with some of his chest hairs.
"Huh? Oh, okay. As good as can be expected, I guess."
"It’s hard to lose someone you love," she said, her tone sympathetic.
"Yep. That it is," he agreed.
"You were close to him. Your granddad."
"Yes. I learned a lot from him.”
"About what?"
Jack had opened up a whole new world to Mark. He’d sat in on countless jam sessions with Jack’s cronies, never realizing the musical genius to which he was so casually privy, or the celebrity status of those with whom he had been allowed to hobnob. He was simply allowed ‘in’, and was witness to a creative passion that in retrospect filled him with amazement. To say that Jack Burton had influenced his life would be to grossly underestimate the powerful bond that had brought them together. He was his grandfather, not merely by chance, but by choice.
"Hm. That’s nice." She seemed to snuggle in further and sighed contentedly.
Mark’s arm began to throb, the circulation cut off. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Sorry. Am I too heavy?" Laura asked, sitting up slightly.
"Probably just the long trip. I didn’t sleep much on the plane.”
"Oh. I suppose I could go back to my own tent and let you get some rest.”
Mark knew she was trying to get him to ask her to stay. But he kept his mouth shut. Right now he needed some space.
Laura rose from the cot, which made a creaking noise as soon as the added weight of her body had been released, and grabbed for her clothing. Mark could see that she was hurt, but he couldn’t do anything about that right now.
"Bye," he offered lamely as she lifted the tent flap. She turned and stared at him a moment, but didn’t say anything. He watched her leave and heaved a great sigh of relief.
What was he doing, sleeping with a woman he didn’t really have any feelings for? He knew it was not something he could admit to his father - or Jack for that matter - with comfort. Jack’s commitment to passion, and his own father’s unwavering adoration for his stepmother were examples that made him now feel ashamed. But he was a man, after all. It was pretty hard to say no when it was offered so casually. And Laura didn’t seem to mind - she usually didn’t demand a lot in return.
The thought crossed his mind that Laura would probably never fit in with his family. And she was no Amy Walters, either.
