by Randy Alcorn
“Maybe?”
“Just being cautious,” Ollie said. “I’m optimistic.”
“I’ve still got the word out. And I’ll keep nosing around.”
“Just be careful, okay? Remember, it’s not your case.”
“She was my sister.”
“You keep saying that. I’ve got a sister too, Holly, lives in Minneapolis. That’s why I’ve been talking to you. Manny thinks I’m crazy, but maybe he’ll change his tune with the info you dug up. Remember, though, I can’t let you too far in. You’ve got too much at stake in the whole thing to stay objective.”
“If some guy wasted your sister, what would you do?” Clarence asked him.
“Go after him.”
“Think the Minneapolis cops would let you in on their case?”
“Of course not. I mean, not officially. Shoot, my own lieutenant wouldn’t let me head up the case if it happened right here. You have to be able to keep your objectivity.”
“So that would keep you from going after the guy?”
“I’m saying officially I wouldn’t be able to—”
“I’m not talking officially. What would you do unofficially? If it had been almost three weeks and the cops hadn’t caught anybody, you’d nose around, wouldn’t you?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m trained. I know what I’m doing.”
“Guys don’t go after people who kill their sister because they’re professional detectives. They do it because she’s their sister.”
Ollie sighed. “But you still can’t—”
“I’ll do my part one way or the other. With you or without you.”
“You can always tell a journalist,” Ollie said. “But you can’t tell him much. The last time I let someone in on a case it was Jake Woods. He almost bit the big one. And I got a reprimand. ‘Keep civilians out unless they’re essential.’ That’s what the lieutenant told me, as if I didn’t know. And ever since Jake, I haven’t let civilians inside. Bottom line, Mr. Abernathy, you’re not essential.”
“Yeah? What did you know about the guys who shot up my sister until I got involved? Maybe I’ve got more time and interest than you do. How long before this case gets buried? You have to care about the other cases, I don’t. So maybe I am essential. Anyway, I’m not giving up.”
“Just don’t expect me to deputize you,” Ollie said.
“I’m not asking you for anything, okay? Maybe I’m just asking you to keep me posted, that’s all. What can I do to convince you? Besides offer you a Häagen-Dazs, I mean.”
“You’ve been talking to Jake, haven’t you? It won’t work. I won’t compromise my position for an ice-cream bar.”
“I didn’t think you would.” Long silence. “How about a double burger, fries, and a blackberry shake at Lou’s Diner?” Clarence asked.
“Now you’re getting closer.” Ollie got up from the desk. “Make it onion rings instead of fries and I’ll think about it. Woods is dog meat.” Ollie hesitated. “Before we hit Lou’s, you still want to see the computer image of the scene?”
He went over to a centralized computer ten feet from his desk, entered a program, called up a file, and a schematic of Dani’s room popped on the screen. The accuracy and detail stunned Clarence. Everything was labeled. Window, blinds, closet, big bed, little bed #1, little bed #2, all of them with enough reference points to form an outline of their shape. On the far wall were twenty-three dots labeled “bullet holes,” numbered consecutively. There were also some small items. One of them said “lunch pail.” There on the floor, points forming an outline, he saw two forms, the larger one labeled “dead body,” the smaller “live body.”
Clarence’s heart raced. “There were forty shots though, right?”
“Yeah. Some pierced the floor, some the side walls. See here?” He reoriented the screen so Clarence could see the other markings.
“I’m still a little skeptical about this new-fangled computer stuff,” Ollie admitted.
“But it’s the latest thing, huh?”
“Yeah, well, next month drive through dentistry may be the latest thing. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it. But I’ll give it a chance.”
“Drive through dentistry?”
“No. The laser unit.”
The phone rang. “Ollie Chandler. Yeah. Our turn again, already? Say it ain’t so. Okay. Off Southeast 39th and Powell? What’s the numbers? Got it.”
He put down the phone and sighed. “We’ll have to do Lou’s tomorrow, but I’ll hold you to it. Open case number four. Murder takes no holiday.”
“Jake?”
“Yeah, Clabern?”
“Have you ever asked God to heal Carly?”
“Hundreds of times. We’ve asked everybody we know to pray for her. We’ve prayed God would take away the HIV. When the cancer started, we prayed he’d remove it. The chemo’s been going pretty well, but the ultimate prognosis is the same. We’re thankful for whatever time we have with her.”
“You don’t sound like you have much faith God will heal her.”
“I go back and forth, I guess. My pastor helped me do some study on it. Paul said he prayed three times for God to heal him from some terrible disease. He called it a thorn in the flesh. And God said no. He chose not to heal him. Paul talks about one of his fellow workers he left behind sick, and he tells Timothy to take a little wine because of his stomach problems. If Paul and his coworkers didn’t get healed, I don’t think it was lack of faith, and I don’t think we can assume all of us will get healed. If God always healed or didn’t allow accidents, nobody would ever die.”
“So, have you given up?” Clarence asked.
“No, of course not. I still ask God to heal her, every day. I know he can, but I don’t know if he will. I guess that’s up to him, not me. I don’t want to lose her, that’s for sure. I feel like it’s been such a short time since I’ve found her again. Then I look at baby Finney, and I say, Lord, that boy needs his mother.” Jake’s voice cracked.
“When adults get hurt, that’s bad enough,” Clarence said. “But when it’s kids, it just tears me up. Felicia’s the sweetest little girl.” He let out an unexpected moan. “And she’s lost her mama, the best mama you ever knew.”
Jake put his arm on Clarence’s shoulder. Then he faced him and put his arms around him in a full hug. The two big proud successful men held on to each other, both realizing they had no control over life.
Clarence got special permission to bring the pastor from his old church into ICU to see Felicia. Though it had been a year since he’d left Pastor Turlock’s church, Clarence swallowed hard and called him, asking him to come pray over her.
“Lord,” Pastor Turlock prayed, “we claim the healing provided in the atonement of Jesus. ‘By his stripes we are healed.’ You healed lepers and gave sight to the blind and raised Lazarus from the dead. It’s a small thing for you to heal this little girl. We believe you will heal her. We know you will heal her. We claim the promises of God for her healing. We claim the hundred-fold blessing you promise to those who serve you.”
After praying the prayer numerous times in different ways, finally the pastor said, “Amen.” Uncharacteristically, Clarence echoed his own loud “Amen.” They walked out to the ICU waiting room, where Geneva and the pastor’s wife had prayed and were now catching up on the past year.
“I’m sure the Lord’s going to heal her, Clarence,” Pastor Turlock told him.
Clarence nodded, attempting to be sure himself.
“God wants her well; we know that. He’s going to heal her. He already has healed her. We just need to claim it.”
“So, what about Dani?” Clarence asked.
“What do you mean?”
“If God wants all his children healthy, how come he allows them to die?”
“I guess she was gone before anyone could pray for her.”
Clarence held the words that came to mind, afraid they would show a lack of faith.
&nb
sp; “Have faith, Brother Clarence. Trust God that he’ll raise this child up to health. Claim his promises.”
After escorting the pastor and his wife out and trying to explain why they went to a different church now, Clarence and Geneva went back to Felicia’s side.
He looked at her innocent face, so placid, and saw her mother’s features. It took him back thirty-five years to when Dani was frightened one night and called him into her room to sleep nearby. Once she’d fallen asleep, Dani had looked just like Felicia did now, except no blue tubes and whirring machines.
Without warning, Felicia’s face twitched. Her lips moved ever so slightly. Hope rose up in his chest.
“Felicia? Felicia honey? You’re there, aren’t you? You can hear me now, can’t you?”
He saw what seemed to be a faint smile on her lips. She was coming back. He believed, he finally believed God was healing her. Her eyes opened slightly, like window blinds given a half turn. He knew she was looking at him.
“Oh, Felicia baby.” He cupped her tiny left cheek in his big right hand. “It’s so good to have you back where you belong!”
He was about to call the doctor, but his teary eyes locked on Felicia’s droopy ones. Yes, he could see recognition in her eyes. She was seeing someone she knew. She was going to live!
Suddenly the eyes dropped closed and the lips fell limp. The machines started beeping. First a nurse, then a doctor came running into the room, yelling out orders.
Clarence stepped back. A whirlwind of activity followed, with blue and white outfits moving around the bed like medicine men performing a tribal dance. Clarence wondered if perhaps medicine men might have more power over life than these doctors did.
After a few minutes of chaos, calm returned to the room.
Felicia was gone.
Three days later Clarence stood at the graveside in front of the little white casket. The funeral had been worse than Dani’s. Much worse. Pastor Clancy couldn’t talk about what a full life Felicia’d had.
“Death is the destiny of every man,” Clancy read from Ecclesiastes as he stood over the grave. “The living should take this to heart.” He cleared his throat. “God had a wonderful purpose for this delightful child. Her life here was only five years long, but she was ready to meet the Lord—she always used to tell me Jesus was her best friend. Well, every one of us is going to die too. And God says we better take death to heart, to make sure we prepare for our own deaths. Felicia was ready to meet the Lord. The question is, are you?”
“A man shouldn’t have to see his grandbaby die,” Obadiah whispered to Clarence. “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.” The old man’s voice broke. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”
If you wouldn’t do it for me, at least you could have done it for Daddy. Is this how you repay the people who serve you? Is this how you answer prayer? She was just a child. Just a little girl.
Another familiar face. The index cards of Dani’s mind sorted themselves quickly and she remembered. Thirty-two years ago. The white woman who lived down the street from her aunt in Jackson. Diane McClure.
Dani and Antsy were visiting their aunt. Dani had been riding an unfamiliar bike, too big for her. Antsy wasn’t with her on this ride. She’d strayed too far off the sidewalk and hit a mailbox, falling to the ground and crying. Mrs. McClure ran out of her house and fussed over her. “You poor darling.”
She brought her inside. At first Dani was afraid; she’d never been in a white person’s home before. Mrs. McClure gave her cookies and Kool-Aid. She sat with Dani and talked to her, asked her about herself as if she was genuinely interested. She was, Dani knew. Diane McClure had called her aunt to assure her Dani was safe and asked if she could stay and visit with her for awhile because her children were grown and Dani was such a delightful little girl.
The Carpenter had said that not even a cup of cold water given to one of his little ones would be forgotten in heaven. Mrs. McClure hadn’t been forgotten, even though Dani hadn’t thought much about her all those years. Now she hugged her tight.
“Thanks for the cookies. And thanks for loving me when I was so scared.”
“It was my pleasure,” Diane said. “Elyon used me to show his love to you. That’s his way. There’s no higher joy than to be used by him.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?” Dani said. “On earth, it seemed like being used by someone was the worst thing. But the best thing is for Jesus to use you.” Her eyes shone like a little girl safe and warm and eating cookies, and Diane McClure’s shone like a woman helping a little girl in need.
Suddenly there came a rush of people with whom Dani had already been reunited. They ran past her and Diane, back toward the birthing room. What was going on? She followed them, finding Zeke and Nancy standing at the room’s doorway from the other world.
“We have another arrival,” Nancy said.
A tall dark warrior walked through the portal. Holding his hand, eyes wide with wonder, walked the most beautiful young girl Dani had ever seen. So beautiful that for a moment she didn’t recognize her.
“Felicia! My baby!”
“What happened, Mommy?” Felicia asked. “I heard a loud noise and…where are we?”
Just as Dani started to speak, someone else stepped forward, the Answer to every question. Felicia stared at him, eyes full of wonder.
“Jesus is my best friend. You’re Jesus, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And you are my special friend too. I have a new name for you. But first, you have a question you want to ask me.”
She scrunched up her face and asked, “Are you Aslan?”
The Carpenter laughed. “I have many names. Elyon. El Shaddai. Lion of Judah. Lamb of God. Jesus. Messiah. Ancient of Days. No one name is nearly enough. Yes, I am Aslan too. Would you like me to roar like a lion?”
Her eyes got big. He laughed and roared a playful but powerful roar. All those around saw the delighted face of the child peering deeply into the eyes of one both Lion and Lamb.
Dani hugged Felicia again. Though she hadn’t been away from her long, she was eager to share this place with her.
“You can talk with her at the welcoming feast,” the Carpenter said to Dani. “But now is my time with her. I have first claim on her, you know. You loved her for five years. I loved her before I created the universe.”
Dani watched them walk off together: a child so small that every aspect of this place was a wonder crying out to be explored, a God so big that every relationship was unique, every conversation fresh, every destination tailor-made to each of his children.
Zeke and Nancy came up to Dani. “Finally I have a chance to ask you,” Dani said. “I know I have a special link with you. But what is it? Who are you?”
“We are your great-grandparents,” Nancy said with obvious pride. “Felicia is our great-great-granddaughter. We’ve watched you, cheered for you, prayed for you, waited for you to join us here in the great cloud of witnesses.”
“I was your father Obadiah’s grandfather,” Zeke said. “He never knowed me. I died when my little Ruth, Obadiah’s mother, was still young. They sold me and tore me apart from my Nancy and my Ruth. I never seen neither of them again till I comes here. I had plans to come get them one day, but then the hounds chased me down when I was goin’ for the railroad. The Underground Railroad, you know? Some very fine white people. I’ll introduce you to ’em soon and then—”
“Zeke, let the girl settle in!” Nancy said. “There’s plenty of time for stories and introductions. We’ve got the welcome banquet ready, and as usual you’re just jab-berin’ away.”
Zeke and Nancy both flashed toothy smiles. “Looks like we’ve got a combined banquet, with two guests of honor,” Nancy said. “That is, if you don’t mind sharing the spotlight with Felicia?”
“Mind? That would be wonderful.”
As they stepped out of the birthing room, a boy walked in and stopped Dani in her tracks. It was a face she hadn’t seen since two years ago. But then it was a
drained, troubled face and a shriveled body with plastic tubes running into it. He looked so healthy now, so much more healthy than anyone on earth could ever look.
“Bobby!”
She hugged the boy so hard she was afraid she’d hurt him, but hurting didn’t appear to be a problem here.
“Aunt Dani! I heard you’d come. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Me too, Bobby, me too!” She looked at Zeke and Nancy “Bobby’s my nephew, my sister Marny’s boy. He died of leukemia two years ago. He—what am I saying? You know all this, don’t you?”
They laughed.
“Oh, Bobby. Remember just a few days before you died when you told your mama you’d seen an angel? That meant so much to her. You said you’d seen a black angel. Remember?”
Bobby laughed and put his head against Zeke’s chest, knowing his great-great-grandfather wouldn’t pass up this chance to tell the story.
“The one he thought was an angel,” Zeke puffed out his chest in mock pride, “was me! He saw me through the portal as we were praying over him.” Zeke whooped as if this was the funniest thing.
“Elyon made a great promise to me and Zeke,” Nancy told Dani. “He said to us, ‘You were faithful to me. Therefore, in every generation that comes from you some will follow me, and it will be your honor to welcome them to my world.”
Dani and Bobby had locked arms, and she kept staring at him. “Oh, Bobby. We prayed so long and hard for you. It was so devastating to lose you. I wish your mama could see you, just for a minute.”
“I can see her,” Bobby said. “And we’ll be together again soon. Time here moves quickly because there’s so much to do, so much to see, so much to learn.”
“Bobby,” Nancy said, “take your aunt Dani to her banquet. We’ll be there soon. Just somethin’ we need to do first.”
Dani and Bobby walked away, reminiscing and laughing, while Zeke and Nancy bowed their knees to pray for one of their own, whom they now viewed through the portal. He was a huge man with huge pain.
It was a pleasant fall day, blue and green and bright, the sun unobscured. But Clarence’s soul was in late November, in cold wet dreariness minus the warm fires of Thanksgiving. What he could see ahead was only stark cold December minus Christmas, and a New Year minus hope.