Richard looked from David, who at least was working, to Bruce, who was letting Diane work while he stayed home in the afternoons with their children—and who looked terrible. Bruce said, “Anything but this waiting—even hell might be better, huh Richard?”
Richard knew that Bruce was taunting him for his faith. Bruce had met with the Cokers when they visited in late August, but he let it be known that he wanted no part of hearing about God. Diane was much more receptive. On two occasions, including the Sunday with the Cokers, she attended Morningside Church with her children.
In response to Bruce, Richard smiled and looked right at him, “No, Bruce, I don't think so. Waiting eventually gets over. Hell never does.”
“Well, you can't tell that by us. I feel like we're there already.”
Richard made a mental note to ask Janet again what they might do to help Diane and her children. And also a note to talk to Court about hurrying up the legal process before Bruce or David snapped under the strain.
* * *
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15 – That Friday night Janet and Richard came home early, and Richard cooked hamburgers outside on the grill. They invited the Bryants, Hawkinses and McKinneys over for dinner and to watch the first edition of “911 Live.” Bruce didn't come, but the others did; with the kids running around outside, the neighbors settled in front of the television a little before 7:30.
Janet unexpectedly stood up and asked them to pray with her, and she thanked God for His daily involvement in their lives, and for making such a difference, by using her husband and many others, in everything around them, especially in this show. She finished by praying for protection for everyone involved in the production that night and particularly for the emergency personnel.
She sat down, with a nod and a smile from Richard, as the show began. For ninety minutes they were shown police chases, fires in progress, the rescue of a woman from a car in a flash flood, an ambulance ride for a heart attack victim, and more. From their own city there was an ongoing story on the police stopping a case of potential domestic violence, and one could feel the uncertainty of the police officers as they left that particular home.
If there were, in fact, set-ups of staged crimes for the cameras or outbursts of raw violence, they never made it to the screen. “The panel must be working,” Richard thought, as the show entered its last thirty minutes.
At the conclusion, Janet asked her neighbors for their opinions on the show. Everyone agreed that while it was not a first choice for family viewing, the show was at least tastefully done, with no overt violence; and the added dimension of actually being live did add a lot to the production. They basically enjoyed it because no one knew what was going to happen next.
An hour later, when everyone left, Janet called Bill at the station. He reported that an instant national poll had produced basically the same results and Network staff was very happy.
Janet hugged Richard, smiled, and said, “Thank you, dear, for all your help.”
Smiling back, and hugging her, he replied, “Thank God, not me. He gave me the words. All I did was speak them.”
33
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 21 – Christmas fell on a Monday that year, and it was the last Thursday before the holiday. Bruce McKinney hardly came out of his home any more, except to attend legal meetings, which had not gone well for them. The federal regulators had decided to make an example out of their case, to deter others, and they were not interested in a light plea bargain. And civil cases were still lining up over the lost funds.
In October Bruce finally gave in to pressure and lowered the asking price on their home, and a contract was executed a week later. Now, much to his disgust, they would be moving to a small rental home on the Wednesday after Christmas.
Amy was very pregnant, her baby due in less than a month. The Tomlinsons came to visit her at Thanksgiving and assured Amy that everything was ready for the baby back at their home. Despite her discomfort, Amy was healthy and in good spirits. She attended church every week with her two best friends and prayed daily for her baby.
Kristen and Peter exchanged visits in the fall, staying in each other's apartments. Kristen decided to accept Peter's invitation to visit him for the long Christmas weekend. Their relationship, she realized, would not go any further with so many miles between them; and on the flight out she resolved to decide over the weekend whether to move permanently to San Francisco or to end their romantic involvement. She arrived in San Francisco that afternoon, and they were finishing a candlelit dinner in his apartment, looking out at the Bay.
“Peter, I really enjoy being with you in every way. Do you think that if I moved here, we would have a chance at a real relationship?”
“You mean like marriage?”
“Eventually, yes. Not right away. But if I uprooted my life and moved here, I would want to know that we had a better than even chance of winding up together permanently.”
“Well, I like you too. And I guess we're getting to the age when we have to think about the future. But before we go on, there's something I was going to tell you tonight anyway, and I guess now is as good a time as any, though the news isn't good.”
“What is it, Peter?” Kristen asked with a sinking feeling, leaning forward in her chair at the table.
“I think from now on we're going to have to use a condom, Kristen,” he said, looking down at his glass to avoid her eyes.
“Why? I've been taking the pill for years, as you know.”
“Well. Look, this isn't easy, and I only just found out yesterday…When I first moved here right after graduate school, it was a pretty wild scene. It still is, but back then it was really wild. I got in with a group through a friend at the paper, and—well, we had some pretty loose parties. Sometimes they went on for days in houses up in the mountains. There were about twelve of us regulars, men and women, and any number of others who would drop in and out.”
“What are you talking about, Peter? That was years ago, right?”
“I'm talking about group sex. Orgies, I guess. Everyone doing everything with everybody. And, yes, it was years ago. But here's the thing. Two of the regulars, a man and a woman, have now turned up to be HIV positive.”
“Oh no,” Kristen gasped. “Did you…?”
“Sure. Many times.”
“With both of them?”
“Look, at those parties, everyone was zonked, and we all tried all sorts of things. It didn't necessarily mean you were gay; we just did whatever felt good at the time.”
Kristen had turned pale, and her throat was suddenly dry. “So you may be HIV positive?”
“I'm not now; I was tested yesterday afternoon. But I thought I ought to tell you so that we can take the necessary precautions.”
Kristen sat in silence. What had she been doing? What had she been thinking? Why had no one warned her? She might very well already be carrying inside her the seed of her own death. What a fool she had been. All of those thoughts burst upon her in one long single flash.
“Take the necessary precautions?” she asked bitterly. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Hey, I only found out myself yesterday. Do you think I'm happy?”
“I mean about the group sex. The AC/DC stuff. Why didn't you tell me?”
“Well, it was a long time ago. And I haven't asked you about your past sex life. What are you, suddenly some kind of a virgin or something?”
No, but I wish to God I was! The thought exploded on her mind. What have I done to myself for all these years? she again thought. Suddenly she knew what she had to do. To Peter she said, “We won't have to take any more precautions because we aren't going to sleep together again. In fact, I'm not going to sleep here any more.”
She stood up, put down her napkin, walked up the stairs to his bedroom, and began packing. “Please call me a taxi, Peter.”
Still sitting at the table, stunned by her reaction, and not wanting to lose her, he said, “Oh, come on Kristen. Please don't overreact. It's not that bi
g a deal.”
She leaned over the loft rail and said in a loud voice, almost in a scream, “Overreact? No big deal? Peter, death is a very big deal! Now call me a taxi!”
That same Thursday night Nepravel and Zoldar were continuing to build an utter despair in Bruce McKinney to push him over the edge. With little to stop them other than the daily prayers from the Sullivans, the voices inside Bruce were spinning at a fever pitch. The louder they played, the more depressed he became.
Sitting in his armchair, alone again late that night, he heard a voice tell him that he was a total failure. “My family has to move out of our home two days after Christmas. How bad is that? What a provider I am! And this time next year I'll be in jail. And bankrupt. How will Diane and the kids make it? And all because of those stupid attorneys and their picking. It's not fair. We almost made it. Those attorneys! And the most self-righteous one lives right next door and pretends to be our friend. I know he laughs at us behind our backs. A lot of help he's been!”
His head spinning from depression and alcohol, Bruce finally fell asleep in his armchair, where his seven-year-old son found him the next morning.
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 22 – It was early Friday evening, and there was a bustle of Christmas activity on Devon Drive. The Hawkinses were hosting a Christmas party for the younger teenagers, and Tommy and Brent were there, dancing in the basement with a group from their class.
Tom Bryant was returning late from a business trip, so Janet suggested to Nancy that they go to the mall to finish their Christmas shopping. Susan volunteered to stay with Amy, and the two teenagers decided to use the evening to wrap presents together at Amy's house.
That left Richard at home by himself until Janet returned from the mall. So he also decided to wrap some presents, after eating a microwave supper. He was standing at the breakfast room table, wrapping a present for Tommy at about 7:30, when the doorbell rang. He went to the door and looked out through the window by the door. It was Kristen.
Next door Diane was more worried than usual. Because of the school holidays she had been home all day, and she noticed that Bruce started drinking early in the afternoon; now he was sitting again in his armchair, just staring, as if he were listening to voices, which he was. Nepravel and Zoldar were both there, working Bruce down into a wretched pit of despair.
She tried to interest him in helping her or in playing with the kids, but he grunted his displeasure. Almost in tears, she went into their bedroom, closed the door, and for the first time in her adult life dropped to her knees, and prayed.
“Can I come in, please?” Kristen asked, tear streaks visible on her cheeks.
“Of course,” Richard said, opening the door wider. She walked in and sat on the sofa in their den, her coat and her purse next to her.
“Would you like some coffee, or a drink of some sort?” he asked.
“A soft drink would be fine, thank you,” she smiled, though it was obvious that it was an effort.
Richard returned from the kitchen, handed her the glass, and sat next to her in the armchair. “Now, what has happened to you?”
“I've just landed on the first flight I could get out of San Francisco this morning. With the Christmas rush, the first two were full, but I got the last seat on the third one, and I drove right here from the airport.” She took a long sip from her drink and then told him all about Peter, starting months before, and about his revelation of the night before. It took her almost ten minutes to complete the story, and he was appalled by the last news. “So I spent the night in a motel at the San Francisco airport, and here I am.”
“Kristen, that's awful. What do you want me to do?”
Diane finished praying and went upstairs to put the young ones to bed. They were already wound up about Christmas, and she knew she would have to read them several stories. As she walked through their den, Bruce stood up and went into their bedroom, without saying anything to her.
Bruce went first to his bedside table and pulled out his chrome .38 special, then to his dresser for the loaded cylinder. The voices told him that he had seen and heard enough. Someone had to pay for what had happened to him and to his family. And his family would be much better off with his insurance money than they were with him.
As Diane finished reading the first story to their little boys, she heard their front door close She stood up and looked out the second-story window and saw Bruce walking down their driveway, without a coat. In the light from the turnaround, she clearly saw the gleam from the chrome revolver in his hand.
“Oh no!” she gasped, her breath knocked out of her.
“What is it Mommy? Is it Santa Claus?” her youngest asked.
“No, no. I'll be right back.” And she ran to the telephone in the upstairs hall and dialed 911.
Kristen said, “Richard, all night and all day on the plane I've been thinking about what Anne Meredith said that night at my apartment. She said that I had to first find the love of God and a relationship with Him before I could find the real love of any man. And I realize today that she gave me the best advice I've had since I left home; but I've ignored it, until now. Richard, I'm done. I can't run my life any more. I've made a terrible mess of it, and I want to give it to God. I need His help so badly.” She started to cry softly. “Please, what is it that the Merediths and you and the others have? And how do I get it? How can I start over, with Him?”
“It's Jesus Christ, Kristen. And He's right here. He can heal you and give you a new relationship with God and an inner joy like you've never known. As you saw that night, we can still be tempted to go astray. But you can belong to God forever. And whatever happens, either with this HIV situation or with anything else, you'll know that you'll spend eternity in heaven with Him.”
“Oh Richard, how do I do that? I'm so tired of trying to do it all myself…”
Just then the front door opened and they heard a man's voice yell, “Richard, where are you?” Without waiting for an answer, the man came toward the light in the den. Richard and Kristen, frozen by the abruptness of the interruption, were suddenly confronted by Bruce McKinney, unshaven, in a rage, and carrying a large revolver, standing in the door from the hall to the den.
“There you are, you self-righteous lawyer jerk. Who's that, and what have you done to make her cry? You're gifted in that area, aren't you?”
Richard and Kristen were speechless. “Well, I've had enough. Enough of you and enough of this messed-up world. You wouldn't help me when I needed you.” He raised the gun and pointed it at Richard, whose heart began pounding. “And so now we're going to see what's really on the other side of this life, you and me.”
Nepravel and Zoldar, who came in with Bruce, knew full well what was on the other side and looked at each other in glee, anticipating that they would at least have Bruce to introduce to hell that night.
“Bruce, what about Diane?” Richard said, trying to think of anything to say. Kristen, realizing after a few seconds what was happening, also remembered that her purse was beside her on the sofa, covered by her coat. How had she tossed it? Was it open? Could she get to her automatic?
“Diane will be much better off with the insurance money than she will with a failure of a husband locked in jail…”
Kristen inched her right hand toward the purse under her coat, trying not to move too quickly. She silently prayed for guidance. Yes, the purse was open toward her. She slowly slid her hand into it, feeling for the cold metal of the Sig Sauer P-230.
“We'll see in a second whether all those prayers have done you any good, Richard,” Bruce said, leveling the gun at Richard's head. Kristen moved her hand faster; her breathing had stopped.
Just then the door from the garage flew open, and Susan ran in. She started to speak to her father, then saw Kristen on the sofa and Bruce McKinney in the other door, pointing a gun at her father and swinging it towards her.
“No, Bruce, don't shoot! It's Susan!” Richard yelled. Bruce swung the gun back toward Richard, then again toward S
usan. Kristen finally put her hand on her own automatic and slowly started pulling it out of the purse, bringing her left hand across her body to be ready to cock it.
“Daddy, what's…? Mr. McKinney, why?…Oh, Daddy, Amy's water just broke, and she's gone into labor. She's crying and in terrible pain. Please come and help! She's got to go to the hospital!”
Richard turned back to Bruce. The gun was still leveled at his head. Richard asked silently for God's help and then spoke, suddenly feeling the power to confront death: “Bruce, your family needs you, not money. They need a husband and father for forty more years, whatever happens in the next five. They and we love you and want only the best for you. More importantly, God loves you and wants the best for you, if you'll let Him work in your life. But right now Amy needs our help. She's alone next door, scared to death, and about to have a baby, to bring a new life into this world. Do you remember when Diane had your boys? We've got to help her. What will it be, Bruce? You've got to choose. Will it be death? Or life?”
Bruce held the gun on Richard, while Kristen and Susan watched. No one breathed. They could all hear sirens in the background, coming closer. Nepravel and Zoldar urged Bruce on to pull the trigger. Richard, Kristen, and Susan could see Bruce thinking, and then his countenance visibly changed. The visual image of Amy needing them, just as Diane had needed him years ago, and the prayers, stopped the deceptive voices. He lowered the gun, put it on the bookcase, and said calmly, “What do you want me to do, Richard?”
Kristen breathed again and shoved her own gun back into her purse. Susan ran to her father, who stood up and hugged her, then motioned to Bruce. “We've got to drive Amy to the hospital. Bruce, write a note for Tom and Nancy, or stay in their home, whichever you want. And, whether you like it or not,” Richard smiled at him for the first time, “pray!”
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