She responded with a satisfied sigh. I should have shared her contentment, but it wouldn’t come. I looked at my laptop on the table before me. Everything was completed and written well. Sometimes I would re-read my work in progress and question its worth. But on a rare occasion, I would look at it and know I’d hit a home run. It would be picked up for publication by a high-end journal. A good chance of at least a Peabody, possibly even the Pulitzer. But it sat there waiting to be submitted. D.J, my third bio, didn’t even know I’d used his story. I’d picked up the phone a few times to call but couldn’t do it. They had suffered so much that it held me in check.
Stella’s voice broke through my melancholy. She stuck her head in the door and called, “Anybody home?”
“In here, Stel.”
“Hey, Mr. Fix-it. You made that tree look respectable. What’s your next big project to restore?” She set a tray of Christmas cookies on my table.
“Only me.”
“So, what’s up with you?” She continued to unwrap the tray and rearrange the cookies that had shifted.
I should have stood up and walked to the table, but that would’ve required too much energy. “I’m still struggling with this documentary.”
She turned surprised eyes my way. “I thought you said you finished it.”
“I did.”
“And so?” Realizing I wasn’t coming over for her cookies, she carried the rearranged tray and set it on the coffee table before me.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Stella pulled a chair close, her unblinking eyes scrutinizing me. “What doesn’t feel right?”
I laughed without humor. “I think I succeeded. I wanted to make three people come alive and they did. Not from what I wrote, but from who they are. They aren’t empty faces that my words brought to life. They’re real people. They gave life to my words.”
“Very poignant! You could turn poet.”
“You poking fun at me?” I half grinned.
“Never. So, what do you think you’ll do?”
“I haven’t a clue. Do you have any sage advice?”
“Here’s my advice. It’s never the wrong decision to do the right thing.”
I squinted one eye. “So…what’s the right thing?”
“Hey, I’m a cook. That’s for you to decide. Here. Have a cookie.”
I reached for a little chocolate fudge drop and popped it in my mouth. “You’ve gotten to be so much like Pete—vague answers that tell me nothing.”
“Like Pete? I’ll take that as a compliment. Well, while you’re sitting here clueless, are you planning to go home for Christmas?”
I sipped my water to counter the sweetness of the fudge. “I am home.”
“You know what I mean. Are you going to see either of your parents?”
“Nope. Not enough accomplishments yet. I’ll need another hundred years for that.”
She turned solemn. “Scott, don’t you think they’d want to see you?”
“Stel, seriously, this is how it is. If they see me, they’ll be happy, or at least cordial. If they don’t see me, they won’t take notice. If I go to my dad’s, a little way into the visit, he’ll start pumping me full of questions to see what I’m doing with my life.”
“And you can tell him how you alone helped three people out of their awful situations, set two of them on a path to success. That’s significant.”
I shook my head. “Not to Charles Harrington. It doesn’t pad my bank account, and it doesn’t give me infamous recognition.”
She leaned forward, unblinking. “Do those things matter to you?”
“Not in the least.”
“So what’s the problem here?”
It took a while to put it into words.
“I guess I look at the others, at Tyler and D.J. They’ve got full lives now. D.J.’s getting help, they’re moving to a fresh location, he has a new job.”
“Yeah, I heard you say that. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?”
I smiled. “I may have made a few connections.”
“Mr. Fix-it.”
“Tyler, well he’s getting to know his stepmother and sister, looking forward to school. He’s got so much ahead of him. I guess I feel like my world’s a little empty.”
Stella moved from her chair and shooed a reluctant Ginger to the floor, taking her spot on the sofa.
“So, why don’t you fill it up? Get someone to share it with.”
“That never seems to work for me.”
She swiveled to face me, reached for my hand, and stroked the top of it. Her eyes stayed fastened on our joined hands before entwining our fingers. The warmth of her closeness always had a way of calming me.
Stella lifted her eyes. “Scott, sometimes what you want is right in front of you, so close you can’t even see it.”
She had said something similar not too long ago. Her eyes never left mine, they drilled me with softness. I’m slow at comprehending, but did she mean what I thought? I felt her hand in mine, soft and warm. I took in the features of her face, the fairness of her skin and smooth complexion, the blond hair matching light brows and blue eyes. Why had I never noticed they were blue? I searched her eyes, needing to understand.
For someone good with words, I managed to say the stupidest thing. “When did your eyes get so blue?”
The sides of her mouth lifted in a grin. “Oh, probably when I was three weeks old?” She shifted closer toward me. “Or maybe not until you really looked.”
She reached and tapped my chin playfully. “When did you get that dimple in your chin?”
I smiled, which always accentuated the dimple, and gave her back her own answer. “Maybe when you first noticed.”
Her hand lingered, soft and radiating warmth.
“Oh, I noticed. I noticed a long time ago.”
Her eyes never left mine. We moved forward together, brushing our lips, testing each other’s meaning. They were soft against mine, her lipstick releasing the spicy taste of cinnamon. How appropriate for Stella. I kissed her again, longer and deeper, loving the feel of her in my arms. How had I missed this? I whispered her name against her ear, a whisper filled with questions and hope. And she responded, her arms embracing me and her lips tracing my cheek.
When we pulled apart, this journalist had no words.
But Stella was never short of them. “It took you long enough, Harrington.”
I regained my composure, and my heart flooded with emotion—Stella, Tyler’s words, the documentary. I didn’t make a snap decision born of a moment of passion. Instead I followed some wise advice. It’s never a wrong decision to do the right thing.
I picked up Tyler’s waiver that waited on the coffee table before me and skimmed it one last time. Walking over to the fireplace, I fed the paper to the smoldering logs. It didn’t immediately catch, giving me a momentary panic to retrieve it before the flames curled and blackened the words. Then the spark roared to life and it was no more.
Stella watched as I walked back to the sofa. I reached forward to the coffee table and touched my laptop to life. With deliberateness, I pulled up the file and found the key I wanted, and I pushed it without regret. Delete.
She motioned to the remaining waiver with one eyebrow arched in question.
“Pete’s. He wanted to be famous.”
“But…the file?”
“I had each bio in a separate file before I merged them.” I turned toward her with a grin. “And do you really think I don’t have a backup?”
“And your plan is?”
“A simple piece. The Life of a Wild Weasel.”
Turning back to Stella, I opened my arms. “Now, speaking of wild, where were we?”
Epilogue
Four Years Later
Claire Bassett
I stole another glimpse out the kitchen window to check on the kids. Isabella, Drew, and Laurel, Tyler’s step sister, ran through the yard playing ball with Muffin, L
aurel’s little sheltie. When we had pulled up to the house, I was thankful to see a fenced yard. Both Andrew and I still experienced anxiety when there was a road or driveway near the children.
I moved to peek around the door into the playpen where Peter slept. Such a healing balm to our family. Maybe because he wasn’t there before. He held no associations with that terrible day.
I wish I could have known Pete. Andrew talked of him every day for the first year. Despite his weakness for alcohol, he’d had enough wisdom to know what Andrew needed—whether to talk or to reflect. Andrew loved the old man. He filled the role of father or brother.
The reconciliation with Matthew contributed greatly to Andrew’s healing. Making the trip to Harrisburg amplified our stress, but Andrew knew it had to be face-to-face. Matthew’s slumped posture and lack of energy spoke of the grief he lived out daily. Yet he embraced Andrew, told him he knew it was an accident. We may never return to the close relationship we once had, but for now, it’s enough.
Stella finished pulling the salads from the refrigerator. “Everyone OK? Peter still asleep?”
“He’s zonked. He played himself out. Laurel was great with him. How old did Tyler say she is?”
“She’s ten, almost eleven. She was around six when he first met her. It’s so neat to see how she hangs around him. I think she likes having a big brother.” Stella set the salad dish on the counter.
“Look at this salad! You’re amazing. You brought way too much.”
“Hey, it’s what I do. I love a busy kitchen. Did I hear that you’re doing some cooking for a crowd, volunteering every week to serve breakfast downtown?”
“Yeah, St. John’s. They’re providing a vital need for the underserved population. I enjoy going in and helping.”
Stella arched her back and stretched.
“Why don’t you sit for a while? Your ankles look like they’re swollen. What’s your due date?”
“August sixth. Two more months.”
“Scott said you don’t know if it’s a boy or girl. Are you going to find out or wait until birth?”
“We’ve been having fun with the mystery, but we’ll find out. We decided to ask when I have my next sonogram.”
“And this is the first grandchild?”
“For Scott’s family but not for mine. We have scads of little ones but they’re scattered through Illinois and Ohio. Scott’s parents are still somewhat self-absorbed, but we’re hoping a baby might change that. At least Scott’s made an effort. He’s done what he can to build a bridge.” Stella sat on the closest chair and stretched her legs. A playful grin extended over her face. “I thought his dad would have a coronary when he saw Scott driving a minivan.”
That was hard for me to understand since my parents were so caring. Sometimes overboard, but only because they loved us. Their relationship with Andrew had returned quickly. “I guess we’re only responsible for what we do, no matter how others respond.”
Sam’s wife, Jane, came in to say the DVD and chairs were all ready.
I turned toward her. “Jane, your daughter is a saint. She’s so patient with Drew. She’s not much older than Bella, but sisters don’t always have tolerance for their little brothers.”
“They’re having fun, but I’m about to break that up. We’re ready to eat.”
Once everyone gathered together, we stood in a circle and joined hands. Tyler honored Andrew by asking that he say the blessing. His personality had returned in bits and pieces, bringing back the strong leader that we once knew. He grasped my hand and gave it an extra squeeze. It still brought a rush of comfort when my hand rested in his.
“Let’s pray, and then we’ll take our plates into the family room to watch the salutatorian’s graduation speech.” We all bowed our heads to give thanks. “Father, we give You thanks today for this reunion, such a reminder of Your goodness and grace. Thank You for the accomplishments that we celebrate today, for the strong, reliable man that Tyler has become, for the influence of his father. We give thanks for Scott’s role in his life, in my life, and in Pete’s. Thank You that we can all carry a little piece of Pete’s kindness and contentment.
“Today, You have marked the beginning of a new path for Tyler, a new career in public service, and rewarded his efforts with recognition at the ceremony. We’re all so proud to be part of his life. Please keep Your hand upon him that he may always walk in faith.
“Please bless this food and the hands that have prepared it.”
Everyone said Amen. We took our seats, and Sam turned to speak to the small gathering.
“We wanted to invite each of you to the graduation, but our tickets were limited. We’re glad that you can celebrate it with us tonight. And, I’m not bragging or anything, but I might add that one tenth of a percentage point separated the salutatorian and the valedictorian.” He pushed start on the DVD. We watched as they introduced Tyler and as he approached the podium with confidence.
“My name is Tyler Pulkowski, and I’m standing here today on the shoulders of some significant people in my life, people who believed in me and sacrificed for me. I suspect every person present could make that statement. Whose shoulders are you standing on? We aren’t designed to live in isolation. We’re designed to need people. Every life will have high points and low points, and sometimes the low points look hopeless. I’ve been there, been to the bottom of all hope. But someone looked beyond himself, beyond his dreams, goals, and aspirations. He saw a need and he chose sacrifice.
My challenge to each person here today is this: dream and plan. Set goals and aim high. But never allow those to surpass human need. I was able to achieve this milestone in my life because another person set his goal aside. I want to honor that sacrifice by having eyes wide open to the needs of hurting people.
Today is the day we all begin a new chapter in life. Standing here in all of our regalia, a day of entitlement, of feeling that it’s all about us. It isn’t. It’s all about those who enabled you to be here today. It’s their accomplishment, their victory march. Your accomplishment comes when you rise to the challenge of looking beyond yourself. Ronald Reagan shared this thought with us. ‘You can’t help everyone, but everyone can help someone.’ Go and find that someone.”
The video finished and Tyler turned his head toward Scott. One by one, Andrew, Sam, and I each glanced in that direction. Stella slid her hand into his. Where would we be today if he hadn’t looked beyond himself? The words of scripture sprang to my mind and I spoke them aloud. “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for Me.”
A Devotional Moment
And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.’ ~ Matthew 25:40
God has given the commandment that we are to help “the least of these” —widows, orphans, the homeless, those with physical or mental disabilities, those who have nothing, and those who don’t have the means to take care of themselves. We are not to discriminate in any way, and we are not to exploit others for our own gain. This directive is sometimes difficult because the pressure from peers or the temptation for self-gain is great. But God tells us that how we treat others is considered as treating Jesus in the same way. Respect and consideration is the correct path, the path that leads us to God.
In The Least of These, the protagonist is in a situation where he will earn accolades and favor at the cost of other people’s privacy. As he gathers information he is drawn into the stories of the men, and comes to understand that gossip hurts and sometimes secrets are meant to be kept.
Have you ever been in a situation where you’ve been tempted to harm someone’s livelihood or reputation in order to elevate yourself? Maybe you justified the situation (they have enough already, or they have so little it won’t affect them at all) or maybe you truly didn’t realize the damage your actions would cause. Understand that how we treat others affects us more tha
n it affects them. God knows our hearts, minds and motives; and judges accordingly.
LORD, TEACH ME NOT TO TURN A BLIND EYE TO THOSE IN NEED, BUT TO HELP AND MINISTER TO THEM FREELY SO THAT THEY MAY SEE THE LIGHT OF YOUR LOVE. HELP ME TO RESPECT THE RIGHTS OF ALL HUMAN BEINGS NO MATTER THEIR STATUS OR MINE. IN JESUS’ NAME I PRAY, AMEN.
Acknowledgements
Although writing may be a solitary activity, the road to publication is not. Many hands have contributed to this work of fiction. First, I want to give my heartfelt thanks to my husband, Vaughn Neely. He encourages me and enables me to write. Thank you to my son, Stephen Neely, for fine tuning the details of my Pittsburgh landmarks.
I’d like to express my gratitude to my writing group, Cross N Pens. It’s a joy to partner with you. Thank you, Cynthia Owens and Tim Suddeth for your careful editing and helpful suggestions. You believed I could do this even when I wasn’t convinced.
When the first draft was completed and I sought an early reader, I knew I’d have to call Linda Smith, the most avid reader I know. When I’m looking for a book to read, I seek her reviews because they’ll be spot on. Thank you, Linda, for being my first audience, for offering effective feedback, and for your encouraging words.
I am grateful to Pelican Book Group and delighted to be part of their network of authors. They are a delightful group. A very special thanks goes to Megan Lee for her skillful editing. I’m so grateful for your expert help.
Above all, I thank God for the privilege of writing. May He be forever praised.
Thank you…
for purchasing this Harbourlight title. For other inspirational stories, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.pelicanbookgroup.com.
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The Least of These. Page 20