Halfway Heroes

by Dustin Martin

  Chapter 39—A Dish Best Not Served

  True to his word, Arthur prepared a full-fledged funeral for Arnold in the sanctuary. Normally, the sanctuary and other worship areas had a good turnout, since many people came to the religious section every weekend. Today, everything was empty and quiet. In the sanctuary, Arnold’s casket was open on display at the front. Lydia was pleased overall at how her father was dressed. It was nice seeing him in a suit, and he appeared to have a small smile as she peered into his casket.

  The pastor was patiently sitting on the stage, waiting for the cue to begin. Besides Lydia and Debra, Arthur and Barrett had come to pay their respects. Sylvia had had to leave to investigate a lead on Finster’s whereabouts, but left her sympathies with them that morning.

  Arthur and Barrett, like Lydia and Debra, were dressed in black. They stood off to the side and greeted the pair after they were satisfied with the body. “I hope everything is alright,” Arthur said.

  “It is,” Debra said. “Thank you.”

  “Sorry for your loss,” Barrett said.

  “Yes, we are sorry,” Arthur said. “Would you mind if we stayed for the service?”

  Debra smiled. “Not at all. After all you’ve done, I’d love for you two to stay.”

  Lydia looked up at her mother and then nodded. “Yeah, stay.”

  “Thank you.” They settled into the front pew. Arthur signaled to the pastor and the service began.

  The pastor stepped up to the pulpit. He cleared his throat and flipped through his Bible. Then he gazed out over the empty sanctuary and spread his arms to his small crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of this man who was a beloved father, a beloved husband, and a beloved child of God.”

  The doors to the sanctuary opened. Lydia turned around. Wren, Donny, Jando, Aidan, Janice, Ryan, Cooper, and Nina filed in one by one. All sported mourning attire. Donny sneezed, lasers jetting from his nose and missing Nina by inches. She would’ve toppled over without her brother flopping up to steady her. Her helmet sloshed around, flecks of water spilling onto the crimson carpet.

  The attendees met the group halfway. “Shouldn’t all of you be in class?” Arthur asked.

  “Should be, but we’re not,” Jando said.

  “We wanted to come for Lydia!” Wren said, slapping her on the back.

  Lydia looked at them. She beamed, sniffling. “Thank you,” she said, embracing Wren. She hugged each in turn, except Nina and Janice, who settled on handshakes. Arthur nodded his approval and they returned to the front pew.

  The pastor raised his arms. “As I was saying, we are here to mourn the passing of Arnold Penner. A brave man, I am told, who in the face of death, sacrificed himself for those he loved. Shouldn’t we all strive for that? Giving all of ourselves for others? Can I have an ‘Amen’?”

  “Amen,” Debra and Arthur said.

  “Psalm 23: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.” The pastor turned to his audience. “Isn’t that a wonderful promise? Even when we come to the end of this life, or when we are struggling in our trials, the Lord does not abandon us. Can I have an ‘Amen’?”

  The others joined in with the “Amen.”

  “At this time, I’d like to invite the family to say some words if they choose.”

  Lydia and Debra joined him on stage. From the pulpit, they had a perfect view of the body, surrounded by small arrangements of flowers around the casket. Lydia offered her mother to speak first. Debra approached the pulpit, her weepy eyes overcoming her. Lydia held her hand.

  “Arnold,” Debra said, “was a fine man. Not flawless, I’ll admit. He could be passionate on many issues. Stubborn to a fault. Loud and downright frustrating. He could be an absolute slob.” She chuckled. “I cannot tell you how many times he tracked dirt, mud, grass, and all of nature with him through the house. On the white carpet, I might add. He liked to say he was ‘close to nature.’ I had fewer problems with Lydia making a mess.”

  “But I did contribute,” Lydia said, grinning cheekily.

  “And yet,” Debra paused, “and yet I wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world. He was a great father to Lydia, could be very romantic, and funny. He cared for us, was a hard worker, and loved us as much as we loved him. He was my other half through and through, one of the best things God has ever blessed me with. I’ll always love him, more than any other man.”

  Debra stepped away and Lydia took the pulpit. She gazed down at her father. Speaking suddenly became difficult. The realization that he was gone hit her like a wave. She was only beginning to fathom that he was dead, and the weight of this winded her. He was gone from her life.

  “My father,” she squeaked, and then stopped. She blinked rapidly. How had Sylvia been able to press through the larger funeral for Kirk? Lydia searched out for support. She caught the eyes of her friends. They smiled at her, encouraging her to speak. Debra squeezed her hand, and Lydia regained her voice.

  “My father was the best father I could ever ask for. He always had time for Mom and me. He was really funny and we had lots of in-jokes that we used to irritate Mom with.” Debra rolled her eyes. “He helped me with so much when I was a kid, and even when we fought, he never stopped loving us.”

  Her eyes were burning. She lifted her head, and then dropped it. “I just wish I had had a chance to say good-bye.”

  Debra sucked on her teeth and whispered, “Me, too.”

  “I’ll miss him and will always love him,” Lydia said quickly. “I hope to see him again someday.” She was unable to say anything further, unable to think any further. Debra wrapped an arm around her and they left the stage.

  The pastor wrapped up the service soon after. He ended with a prayer asking, “God, please bless and comfort those that this man has left behind. Be with them and guide them in their troubled times. We ask this in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  After the service finished, Lydia’s friends expressed their sympathies to Debra and Lydia, bid them well, and returned to their classes.

  “Thanks for the flower,” Lydia said to Aidan as he was leaving.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, running after the others.

  Barrett left to return to her own duties, offering Lydia a handshake on the way out. Debra excused herself and headed to the restroom, leaving Arthur alone with Lydia.

  They sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Arthur finally asked, “So how are you two doing?”

  “We’re fine,” Lydia said.

  “That’s good,” he said. “If you have time later—not today, of course—I wanted you to come by my office to discuss something.”

  Lydia feared she already knew what he wanted to talk about. “I don’t need more counseling,” she said. “I didn’t mean to rile Gary, but my anger is under control. So I’m fine, okay?” She turned away and then asked, “Is he alright?”

  “That wasn’t it at all,” Arthur said. “But he’s doing fine. The security guard calmed him down and he’s much better. You didn’t cause it.” She looked at him skeptically. “Okay, well you did, but not in the way you’re thinking. Gary has trouble handling two strong emotions at once. Always has. Tends to stay away from office parties, for that matter. A minute at one of those and you would think he had knocked back a case of wine.”

  “So why see both of us if that could happen?” Lydia asked.

  “He proposed the idea. We have him monitored constantly, but he wanted to give both of you the chance to support one another during the session.”

  “Oh.” Lydia made a mental note to thank Gary the next time she saw him.

  “But since you brought it up, his anger did catch my attention,” Arthur said, kicking up one foot on his knee and holding it with clasped hands. “I expected him to be distraught in a bad way. Maybe a little angry. After all, sorrow can manifest in strong forms and be difficult to
handle. As can wrath or happiness. But the way he was acting before the guard managed to calm him, whew.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Yet, I don’t get the sense of any anger from your mother. Sorrow, yes. But no real rage.”

  “What are you getting at?” Lydia narrowed her eyes.

  “Is there anything you would like to get off your chest?” Arthur asked. He seemed to read her underlying emotions.

  “Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by bashing Finster’s head into a wall,” Lydia said darkly.

  “Revenge is a path best left alone,” Arthur said warningly. “You start traveling down it and it’s hard to stop.”

  “Who said ‘revenge’?” Lydia asked, smiling innocently. “I’m only culling the criminal element plaguing our nation by desiring to bring them to justice.”

  “Justice is all well and good. I encourage it, but you’re leaning toward revenge. I can see that. An eye for an eye makes the whole world go blind you know,” Arthur said.

  “Don’t you know that we should hate evil in all its forms?” She turned to the departing pastor. “I could go get him to point that part out for you.”

  “What about being judged by the same measure you judge others?” Arthur countered.

  “Like how Finster judged my father should die? I’m applying his measure to him. Less so, as a matter of fact.”

  Arthur shook his head. “Finster will be captured, brought to justice, and tried like any criminal.”

  “He’s not any criminal.”

  “Leave revenge alone.” He jerked his thumb at the casket. “What would your father think about this?” His voice slipped deeper into his accent. “Do you think he would want you to throw away what he gave you for revenge?”

  “Don’t you dare!” Lydia shouted. “What do you know about it? Did you lose your father? Huh? Was he stolen from you?” She stood up and stomped around the pew. “And what is with that stupid accent anyway?”

  Lydia walked to the sanctuary doors, planning to find her mother. “You’re right,” Arthur said. She turned around, her hand on the door handle. He was glancing over his shoulder. “It wasn’t my father. It was my mother. She died when I was young. Car accident.”

  A chill crept up her spine. Lydia was ashamed and moved closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “She wasn’t around much. My father was in the army, stationed over in the United Kingdom often. While over there, he met her. I don’t remember much about her, but my father says she was beautiful.” He grinned, staring off into space, his eyes soft. “Said she was like a Greek goddess. Tall, graceful, witty, with red hair like a blazing sunset. Skin like marble, and these shimmering eyes that were always looking for the next adventure. A real wild spirit that he could hardly keep up with. They never married, but were together off and on over the years.” Arthur waved his hands over his body, presenting himself. “I’m the result.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Well, she wasn’t ready to settle down. Couldn’t handle a baby. So she gave birth here and handed me over to my father for him to take care of me. He accepted a stable position in Virginia—he was a major by that time—and he raised me. I visited her a couple of times over there. Mostly, she came over here to visit when she could afford to. When she couldn’t, she would send presents and letters often.

  “Anyway, when I was eight, we received a letter from her parents. She had died in a car accident. Turns out she had gone out with a friend and partied all night. Instead of calling a cab, her friend drove them home. Both were pretty hammered and her friend didn’t see the other car.” Lydia sat back down beside him, hanging on every word of the story.

  “I was like you. Upset. Angry. I hated everyone and everything involved at first. Even the other driver, who had had the right of way. But I eventually focused all of that hate down to one person: my mother’s friend. Yet she had escaped and took to hiding somewhere in another part of Europe to avoid the police. Over the years, I harbored a grudge against her, which slowly built. I vowed that when I found her, I would take revenge and ruin her life any way I could. And nobody, not even my father, would sway me.

  “Shortly after I turned eighteen, I heard from a mutual friend of hers that she was hiding out in Germany. I scraped together what money I had and flew over there right away. The whole flight over, I was planning what I would do. Scream at her, hit her with a car, something. At the very least have her extradited to stand trial. Figured I would play the rest by ear. I went to the city she was supposedly in and eventually found a trashy apartment where she was staying. The hotel manager didn’t know where she was, saying she was out all the time and avoided paying her rent. The manager let me into the apartment to wait for her.

  “The stench of that place, well, I can’t begin to describe it. There was vomit and odd stains everywhere. Dirty clothes were piled up here and there. She could’ve made a fortune recycling all the beer bottles. There were bits of moldy food smashed into the floor. I was afraid to stand anywhere, let alone sit down.”

  “What did you do?” Lydia asked.

  Arthur shrugged. “I waited. I had come this far. I wasn’t going to leave now. But I couldn’t imagine how anyone could live in squalor like she did. After a couple of hours of waiting, she came in through the window. She was a stick. I mean that. I didn’t see how she was standing up. Her eyes were sunken, she wore a frayed, dirty wife beater and shorts, and she was a general mess. I wanted to yell at her. I tried to, but the words caught in my throat.

  “She looked at me and asked who I was. I told her. Right away, she went into a crying fit.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. She broke down, sobbing and saying ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.’ Then she ran back out the window. I tried to keep up, but she was surprisingly agile and knew the streets better than I did. She got away.”

  He sighed, pausing for a moment. Arthur looked at the ceiling, a wry grimace slinking along his lips. “I couldn’t believe it. All this time, through all the years, I had wanted to exact revenge on this woman who stole my mother away from me. Take from her like she had from me. Turns out, she had robbed herself of everything already. Blamed herself as far as I could tell. Funny, isn’t it?” He stopped, staring at the ceiling a little longer.

  Lydia finally prodded him to continue. “And?”

  “And that’s it,” he said. “I went back to the apartment for a couple of hours to think. When I left, I paid off some of her rent, and gave the manager my hotel and home numbers. I told him if she didn’t call, then at least to tell her I forgave her. Never did hear back from her. Not sure if she got my message or not. Her parents never heard from her either.”

  “So what’s the point?” Lydia asked. “You got what you wanted. Life destroyed. Mission accomplished. All is right.”

  “Only it turns out it wasn’t what I wanted,” continued Arthur. “When I saw what she had become, I realized I didn’t feel any sense of victory. What became of her had gone beyond justice. She had harmed herself in a way I never could have and I wasn’t going to add to it, whether it made any difference or not. I wasn’t proud or thought my mother avenged. All I saw was that two lives had been ruined the day of the accident, with a third well on its way to destruction.” He patted her knee. “Trust me, revenge will not solve anything. You’ll only be left more hollow and empty than you were before. Rise above Finster. Be better than him and don’t stoop to his level by engaging in revenge. Show him fairness and justice instead of retaliating.”

  She was a little surprised he had divulged his story. Lydia almost didn’t buy it. “Is that true?” she asked. “Or are you making it up for my sake?”

  “No, it’s true,” he said. “Oh, and as to your question about my accent, it’s to remember my mother. Anyone who knows my father would tell you I received everything from him. But for some reason, I picked up her accent. Oh, sure, I learned to suppress it for my work. I could easily get rid of it, but it’s what she gave me. She gave me her
voice. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.”

  Lydia wasn’t convinced that his idea of anti-revenge ideals matched hers. After all, Arthur hadn’t been present for his mother’s death. His mother’s killer had punished herself, whereas Finster was free and happy, living a normal life.

  Yet she was also honored that Arthur had been candid with her. She told him so. “Not many government officials are like that. Much less leaders.”

  “Ah, yes. I suppose I should have a secret past, shrouded in mystery. Like that actor rumor floating around about me,” he said, laughing.

  “Well, they do say rumors have a bit of truth to them,” Lydia said, hinting.

  He leaned over, his lips close to her ear. “I have to keep some things a mystery. There is a certain quota to keep everyone entertained with gossip.”

  Debra returned and Lydia stood to join her. Arthur shook Lydia’s hand. “Thanks,” Lydia said. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you that you shouldn’t hate Finster,” he said. “After all, I was no better than you at your age, handling a similar situation. It’s only human that you will have that feeling at first. However, you can’t let it drive you. You can’t hold onto it for years, feeding it until it consumes you.” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “You have friends, family, and everyone else here to help you with your grief and to recover from your loss. And you can do better than getting even, Lydia. I have faith you’ll turn away from revenge.”

  “Your faith might be misplaced then,” she said.

  “I don’t think so. After all I’ve seen over the years, I’ve learned it helps to have faith.” He smiled. “I know you’ll do the right thing.” She left him in the sanctuary, alone and staring at the stage.