Devotion Apart

by Davin Bradley

  "With a mug like mine," I said, "I thought some permanent damage might be an improvement."

  I translated for Talia, and she laughed with us at my expense. These were my sisters and family in the faith, and I felt closer to them than anyone else in the city, since we shared the same Spirit. I had a busy Monday afternoon ahead, so I didn't linger long. We made plans to meet on Sunday morning for a small fellowship of our own. Karen didn't want to take Talia to an assembly where she couldn't yet speak the language. With delight, I assured them I'd be there to share Scripture and teach them some Portuguese worship songs.

  As I left, Karen followed me outside to my Jeep.

  "Talia's taking to you," Karen said, not in a teasing way. "When you didn't come around and we didn't hear from you for several days, we were getting worried. You might joke around about your face, but I need to know directly: the way you do things, should we be concerned about being out on the street if something happens to you?"

  "No, you're officially established for the work here. Craig and I set you up as an employee of a ministry called Mary and Martha. I had to think of something quick the other day. Hope it's okay."

  "That's a good name. We're all women with a past."

  "And there'll be other women."

  "I understand. Speaking of other women, Sadona called twice over the weekend."

  "Oh, yeah?" I climbed into the driver's seat and rolled down the window. "What'd she want?"

  "You." She scoffed. "You've invited her along, but she's not sure how she fits in."

  "She'll get it." I started the car. "She turned down the first invitation. So now she has to find her own way with us."

  "What should I tell her?" She signed. "Not that I'm your message service. Or matchmaker."

  "Tell her to join us Sunday. We'll make brunch out of it. Do you mind?"

  "Hosting brunch? Might need to do some more grocery shopping, but the girls will love it."

  "Spend what you need to. The Lord's providing through Craig, so let's use for good what we have while we have it."

  An hour later, I was in the basement with Craig, filling in the gaps he hadn't already witnessed over the weekend. I was still adjusting to Craig monitoring me and listening to everything that I heard and said, but most people realized there were eavesdroppers. After all, everyone carried cameras and microphones that could be remotely accessed through their smartphones. What did we expect from people who could remotely access those devices?

  "I'm ready to meet Shay," I said to conclude my debriefing with my pajama-clad friend. "Do you have any advice?"

  "Yeah, Cord, I do." He turned from his screens and keyboards and faced me. He rarely looked at me when we were in the computer room, so I gazed just as intently back at him. "Don't go. It's opening us both up to all kinds of danger. If you meet Shay and Malik Suuk, you'll be on their radar. And by radar, I mean RASH—from their side."

  "I thought you were blocking out my activities from their observance."

  "They can still monitor you. For both of our sakes, I'm begging you, don't talk to him."

  "You said he killed my sister, or had her killed. No one is willing to face him, and I need to look into his face and see if he killed Cora."

  "He did!"

  "Well, we can't do anything until we have evidence, so I'll get it, and you can record our conversation."

  "We don't need evidence to kill him." The way he said it gave me chills. Then he turned back to his screens. "Some evils won't go away unless you erase them, along with all their secrets. That would be the best thing for everyone, especially in memory of Cora."

  "I'm not killing anyone." My voice was soft. "It isn't our way. We're Christians."

  "Well, some Christians have other views. Just because it isn't Righteous Cord's way doesn't mean it isn't the way of others."

  I took a deep breath before I said more—or anything that I couldn't take back. Craig was showing me his heart through the things that he was saying. He disapproved of Christ-like mercy, and that spoke volumes about the heart of Christ he really had—or didn't have. But there was also something more I heard in his voice, something I realized I'd known since the first day Craig had accused Shay of Cora's murder without actual evidence of it.

  "I'm going to see Shay as soon as he'll agree to a meeting." I set my hand lightly on his shoulder. "I want to protect us both from danger, Craig, so if there are safeguards that need to be set up, now's the time. This is what you called me from Brazil for. If there's fallout from a simple meeting with this guy, then I hope you and I can deal with it together. And prayerfully."

  As I climbed the stairs from the basement, I grieved that Craig had observed the powerful effects of my caring for enemies for a couple weeks now, but he hadn't been impacted. If my God-given compassion for our enemies was the factor that split Craig and I from one another, then so be it.

  That afternoon, as I drove back into the city, I placed several calls to Adrian Shay's office, and left two messages. I told him I was the late Cora Rose's brother, and Brock Rose's brother-in-law, and hoped to talk to him right away. Prayer was my safety line as I moved toward this man's world. That he was a selfish, arrogant, and dangerous man—I had no doubt. But had he killed Cora? Those suspicions needed to be confirmed or denied.

  I pulled into the Amazonia Biodome, where Elizabeth Ardent was expecting me inside the chambered entrance.

  "Green tree frogs!" she blurted happily, her voice song-like. "It worked—and quickly. I mean, not all the pests are gone, but there's a noticeable difference in the destruction level where I introduced one hundred tree frogs to the habitat."

  We walked to the edge of the artificial pond which bordered the visitor's entrance from the rainforest. For a moment, we stood in silence and appreciated the sounds of the forest creatures. Maybe she guessed that I was homesick, and those noises were calming to me, making me nostalgic for a simpler life. And yet, she seemed to be someone who could appreciate such wildness. After all, she worked alone in the giant dome, so she must've felt attached to it for similar reasons.

  "We have a transaction to complete," she said, smiling broadly, her blue eyes bright. "You said you'd burn the reeds to ashes before you left. We're in agreement?"

  "We're in agreement. May I?"

  I gestured ahead, and she waved her hand to proceed.

  When I reached the opposite side of the pond, where the water was stagnant and reeds grew thick, I shed my boots and socks and rolled up my pants. With my bush knife in hand, I waded into the warm water and studied the plants. From the trail, Elizabeth watched me curiously. For the sake of everything for which I hoped to use the xylem oil, I couldn't tell her what it was for. Craig couldn't even know, especially now. The xylem oil would be my secret, my way of moving around in Devotion without being seen.

  From a stand of mature, healthy reeds, I cut the stalks of twelve plants, just above the water level. Their leaves were small but especially important to the mixture, so I didn't strip away their tiny branches.

  "That's it?" Elizabeth asked as I returned to dry land.

  I handed her the twelve stalks, then I plopped down on the ground. I gathered a fistful of leaves and rubbed my feet dry, then tugged on my socks.

  "Yep, that's it."

  "And you're not going to tell me what you want them for?" She turned them in her grasp. "They seem to be common aquatic grass to me. Hollow-stemmed, green year-round. You won't say?"

  "They're very important to some Brazilian natives." I tied my boots and stood upright. "Some make arrow shafts from the stalks. Some kids make little harpoons to spear crabs and frogs. But I'll be content with the ashes of them, since I can't take them out whole."

  "You're a strange one, Cord Dalton." She shook her head and carried the reeds back to the makeshift office in the corner. In a clean, iron pan, she cut and laid the reeds, then held the pan in the white hotness of the small furnace. As we watched, the reeds burst into flame for no more than two seconds. The flicker was gone
, and only ash remained. That's all I needed.

  Carefully, Elizabeth drew out the pan.

  "We'll let it cool, then you can bag it up." She rummaged through a drawer in a lopsided desk. "While we wait, tell me some other interesting Amazon trivia that visiting school children might enjoy. I like that bit about native kids harpooning frogs to eat. They'll love that!"

  "Interesting trivia?" I eyed the forest. "There's so much to share. I'm not sure where to begin. Every animal is unique. Every tree, bush, and flower has special properties that the natives have used for centuries. They even have a poison called wourali that'll kill any mammal in minutes, but it can be neutralized with simple table salt."

  "Table salt?" She handed me a sealed baggie for the xylem ashes. "What if I were to ask you to share some of this with a class of kids? You're a real-life expert on all this. You've lived it, and I'm just a college graduate playing gardener."

  "I could put together some thoughts to share some time." I nodded. "Yeah, it would be fun. I could even give a demonstration. I have my gravatana as well. I brought it with me."

  "Gravatana?"

  "That's Portuguese for blow-pipe. All the tribesmen use them for hunting. You think the kids would like a demonstration?"

  "They'd love it!"

  Chapter Fifteen

  That afternoon, I drove into the suburbs of Two Sheep Meadows and parked in front of a humble residence I knew belonged to Tobias and Emma Sullivan. Although my phone showed me that Tobias was in his back yard, I didn't immediately exit the Jeep. Instead, I checked and found one new message from Adrian Shay's office in the city. Bingo. He wanted to meet. Nausea rose in my throat. I almost wished he wouldn't have accepted my offer. Craig would be reeling.

  From the street, I walked into the Sullivan's front yard, skirted a travel trailer past its prime, and knocked on the front door. As I backed off the small porch to wait, Emma answered, wearing a shawl over her shoulders, even though the day was blistering hot. Through the open door wafted rich smells of food cooking.

  "Oh! This is a surprise." She pointed to the side of the house where a wooden gate stood. "Did you come to see Tobias? He's around back."

  "Thank you, Emma." I made a face, waving more of the aroma toward my nose. "That smells heavenly. How's Tobias not three hundred pounds if you keep feeding him like that?"

  She laughed.

  "It's for the shelter a few blocks away. Toby would need to stay at the shelter if he wants to eat like that, because all he's getting now is fruits, grains, and vegetables. You know he's a cancer survivor? Didn't Sadona tell you?"

  "No, she didn't. He looks healthy now."

  "Sadona's father and Toby were in chemo together. Pedro passed away, but Toby walked away to fight a little longer."

  "Well, to live is Christ," I quoted from Philippians, "and to die is gain. I'm glad you're keeping him healthy now."

  "What about you?" She pointed gingerly at my mouth. "Your face. . ."

  "Oh, this? Just wrestling some things out for the Lord."

  "As long as you're wrestling for Him and not against Him."

  "I agree!" I laughed. "Tobias is just through the gate here?"

  When I reached the back yard, I found Tobias in a bright green and yellow Hawaiian collared shirt, matching shorts, and leather sandals, sitting on a lawn chair as he assembled one of seven visible baby cribs. A yard shed door was open, revealing racks of tools and stacks of lumber.

  "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon." Tobias glanced up. "Sadona said you were pretty busy in the city, moving forward with your plans."

  I squatted down to watch him work. He looked older than his wife, though they were the same age. But his eyes had a look of wisdom to them, like he could read a person without being told everything.

  "I'm trying not to think of it as my plan, but God's plan. I'm just following the Great Commission."

  "Yeah. Nothing wrong with that." He turned over the crib and applied sealant to several corners. "I didn't take you for someone to get too discouraged by what Sadona said at our meeting."

  "No, I wasn't discouraged."

  "I love Sadona like a daughter. Don't get me wrong. But she's influenced by some outside ideas sometimes. And stubborn, too. Nothing that a good, godly husband couldn't help her with."

  Our eyes held an instant. Maybe he was testing me, but I didn't respond, partially because I'd read Sadona's intentions to be the same.

  "I came because a jail ministry downtown has opened wide for me, but it's too much for one person. I was hoping you'd help disciple some inmates while they're at county, and remain in contact with them when they're transferred to state prison."

  "The jail shut us down a couple of years ago." He licked his thumb and checked the edge of the crib. "Me and another man from our fellowship used to go to the jail once a month. We'd hold little studies for a small group in the inmate library. The officers were being pushed from someone higher up to discourage our visits. Eventually, our passes expired, and when we refiled, we were denied. The ADX laws are encroaching on Christians all over the country."

  "I can look into reinstating your passes," I said, "but I'm talking about just correspondence for now. Maybe some Bible smuggling."

  I handed him a piece of sandpaper, which he applied to the wood.

  "Bible smuggling?" He cocked his head and kept working. "You're not one to ease in, are you?"

  "That's what I've heard."

  "You have that kind of pull here already, to get something like Bible smuggling done?"

  "If you can start corresponding with these prisoners, and get me some good study Bibles and other material, I'll handle the smuggling part. The Lord's opened some doors. Or, I guess, back doors."

  "If you give me the names of inmates who might want to hear about Jesus, I'll search them out, Cord.

  "Actually, they're already Christians. About twenty were led to Christ over the weekend."

  Tobias stopped working and studied my face.

  "You got into the jail?"

  "I was arrested. While I was in there, I got to preaching."

  "I guess that explains your black eyes." He started working again. "About twenty, huh? I'll need to get some of the others in the fellowship to help me correspond with that many."

  "That's what I was hoping."

  "Twenty new believers." He set the sandpaper aside and whistled. "Even if only five of them are really on fire, that whole jail will slowly change. The officers will be reached. The families of the prisoners will be touched. Then the city begins to be impacted. This was your plan all along, wasn't it?"

  "It's God's plan. I'm just one gear in the machine." I smiled. "And it sounds like you're another."

  "I am. Does Sadona know about this jail situation?"

  "She knows something's happening, but she didn't want to be involved at first, so I'm letting her jump on board at her own pace."

  He sat back in his chair and squinted up at the sky.

  "You've started a fire." He chuckled. "I never thought I'd see a revival in Devotion!"

  "Well, twenty men is a long way from reaching all two million in the city." I took a deep breath. "But while the Lord tarries, we can apply ourselves to the task."

  Together, we carried the seven cribs into the shed and stacked them.

  "Is this how you did it in the rainforest?" he asked. "You built a network that could help with the ministry needs? I get the impression that you've done all this before, just not in Devotion."

  "There was a hunter-gatherer tribe called the Matamata. Once they came to Christ, I had a base of operations to reach other remote tribes. The Matamata taught me how to hunt, fish, build, carve, and garden. I took that knowledge with me to be useful whenever I canoed or hiked up the river. Sometimes, we can learn where God is directing us by the resources He opens up to us."

  "And what resources is He providing here?"

  "In the long run, Tobias, the only dependable resource I know to count on is Christ's church. We migh
t all be jailed or homeless, but living water is a resource I know can't dry up."

  "That's the stuff, brother." He grabbed my shoulder, tears in his eyes. "Come here."

  He enveloped me in his arms, and I hugged him back. If I interpreted his affection right, it was a mixture of apology for not taking me seriously days earlier, and joy for the opportunity to serve God on the front lines of the spiritual battle for souls across the city.

  After I left the Sullivan's, I drove to one of the city's tallest buildings. Shay Tower was a glass superstructure that stood as a threatening pair of spires over the whole downtown arena. Since I was a few minutes early for my appointment, I took the time to gather my wits, pray, and use RASH to study the building and the executive offices on the tower's top floor.

  Adrian Shay was a gnarled, unhandsome man in his sixties, who wore an expensive suit and gold cuff links—even after business hours. From the street, I studied through my screen the others on the top floor as well. An executive assistant with brunette hair was in an outer office, preparing to leave, and a short-statured man of Far Eastern descent was just walking out of the elevator to join Shay in the main office. So, we wouldn't be alone. The Indian-looking man was Malik Suuk. Shay's head of security from Bangladesh. And he was armed.

  After I climbed out of the Jeep, I took off my satchel and put my phone in my pocket. Several homeless people approached me for food. I gave them Janae's bagged lunch, and asked if they'd share it.

  At the front entrance, two armed sentries stood guard. One checked my PID before allowing me to approach the elevators.

  On the top floor, I stepped out of the elevator and combed my hair with my fingers. I wore new clothes that Tyler and Janae had bought me, but I was far from the fashionable type this building was used to seeing.

  A set of double doors were open, and I passed through them. Shay stood at his office's giant windows, looking down at the city that he financially dominated.

  "Good evening, Mr. Shay," I called out as I crossed the carpeted expanse of the office that was the size of most people's homes. "Thank you for meeting me."