“Think about it. Half the impure desires involve wealth and greed.” The man crossed his arms, more serious than before. “More than half. You get past that kind of hurdle and you’re headed straight for the upper world.”
“Which means . . . ?”
“Oneness with the creator. Freedom from self. Peace, man.” He leaned against a nearby wall. “It’s what you see in the eyes of all these people running around here. Amazing peace.”
Dayne scratched his head. “Those spiritual laws . . . anything there about forgiveness?”
“Forgiveness?” Abi’s face went blank. Then his eyes lit up again. “Forgiveness is automatic. Because Kabbalists do away with negativism. Unforgiveness is negative, so it’s not an issue when you study Kabbalah.” He shrugged. “You simply do away with it.”
“Hmmm.” Dayne gestured at a few clusters of people passing by. Most of them were dressed in white. “What’s with the clothes?”
“White symbolizes purity, oneness with the god inside you.” Abi waved toward the Learning Center store over his right shoulder. “You can get garments of purity before you leave tonight. In fact, the guy in there can set you up with a Kabbalah bracelet and a series of tapes.” He gave Dayne a light punch on the shoulder. “Makes the learning go a lot quicker. And when you’ve got a hundred and twenty-five spiritual laws, quick learning can be a nice thing.”
Dayne looked in the direction of the store, just off the main lobby. “Maybe I’ll check it out.”
“Good.” Abi motioned for Dayne to follow him. They walked to the other side of the foyer where three men in suits stood behind a table, chatting with each other. “I want you to meet a few of the leaders.”
Dayne asked, “Where’re their white clothes?”
Abi gave him a strange look, as if the answer was too obvious to state. “They’re not in a position of learning. The spiritual garments are for Kabbalists in a state of learning.”
They reached the table, and Abi made the introductions. Then he said to the shortest man, the one in the center, “Do you have a donation kit? I think Mr. Matthews might be interested.”
A donation kit? Dayne tried not to react negatively. Kabbalists do away with anything negative.
The short man nodded and gave Dayne a smile that took up his entire face. “We’re glad to have you, Mr. Matthews. People of your stature often reach the upper world in a relatively short time.”
A part of him wanted to laugh out loud. They reached the upper world quicker by writing a big check? Wasn’t that a little obvious? But then he remembered the look on the first teacher’s face earlier this evening. He might have been boring, but he had a look in his eyes that drew Dayne in and made him long for a way to end the emptiness in his soul. The big Hollywood names who were practicing Kabbalah had the same look, as if nothing could touch them, nothing could ruffle them.
He thought about his bank account. Maybe it was holding him back. Could he really move himself halfway to the upper world by writing a seven-figure check? He took the manila envelope and tucked it under his arm. “Can I take it home, look it over?”
“Sure.” Abi’s expression turned helpful. “Maybe think about the amount. Keep in mind the upper world.”
“Right.”
“It’ll set you free, man. I’m telling you.” He shook his head. “I wish I had the kind of money you movie types have.” He swooped his hand in an upward arch. “Talk about soaring past half the spiritual laws.”
A slow sense of joy—or maybe peace—spread through Dayne. How easy would that be? Write a check, shed some of the material wealth he’d accumulated, and in the process find himself halfway to the upper world. He could do it right now, but his first instinct was probably right. He should give it some thought, figure out exactly how much to give.
He thanked Abi and the other men. On his way out, he stopped in at the store. He purchased the white spiritual garments and the red bracelet, which offered protection and identified him as a Kabbalist, a learner of spiritual matters, a person intent on reaching the upper world.
Later, as he brought the goods into his house, he thought of his adoptive parents. They’d been sold out to a conventional religion that left them toiling for heaven’s rewards. Maybe they’d reached the upper world also. But they had been so trapped by relegated teachings. Until the day they died, they’d believed they were sinners, flawed and doomed to hell if not for Jesus Christ. No matter how much they had worked—even as they died doing their work—they never attained a level of perfection or oneness with God.
But with Kabbalah, he would take on a way that his adoptive parents had missed.
He found a place in his closet for the white garments he would wear when he returned from Bloomington. Then he fastened the bracelet on his wrist. He would wear it as a reminder of what lay ahead for him. Freedom and peace and a release of all negative feelings. A journey to the upper world.
He only wished he’d found Kabbalah sooner. Of course, he was about to make up for lost time in a hurry. Yes, he wanted to think about it, but when he returned from Bloomington he was sure he’d make a significant seven-figure donation, one that would pole-vault him even more than halfway through the spiritual steps. He could hardly wait to experience the freedom and peace of that moment.
But before he could travel the journey of Kabbalah, he had a different trip to make. One that would take him to Bloomington and the life he might’ve lived if things had turned out differently. The trip to Indiana would give him a glimpse of a family he would’ve been a part of, a girl he would’ve loved. But it would all be make-believe, his world and theirs too different to bridge.
That was the exciting thing about Kabbalah. It would take him into a world that was real.
One that would change his life forever.
The Baxter house was quiet, too quiet for eight o’clock. That was one of John’s most difficult adjustments since Elizabeth’s death. The rooms that housed a million memories, the walls that had heard countless conversations and witnessed celebrations and the growing of his family through the years, were now silent.
John padded through the house with a cup of lukewarm coffee. He wasn’t tired, and he’d already had conversations with his youngest daughter, Erin, and his oldest, Brooke. The kids were all good about calling regularly, keeping him posted on how their family lives were going. He enjoyed the conversations, but tonight he was distracted. Tomorrow was Sarah Jo Stryker’s funeral.
He hadn’t known her, of course. But he’d gone to the play with Brooke’s family, so he’d seen her sing, heard the gift God had given her. And now he couldn’t get the loss of her life out of his mind. Her family, the kids and families at CKT—all of them were reeling, and there was nothing he could do about it.
The silence got louder. John took a sip of coffee and walked to the entertainment center in the family room. TV would be a distraction, and radio—with its commercials—would only make the house seem artificially noisy. Instead he slipped in an instrumental CD, one with sound tracks from old movies that he and Elizabeth had watched again and again. The sound was rich and full, and John breathed it in. This was better.
He picked up the newspaper and sat down at the dining room table. Last weekend’s accident had held a spot on the front page ever since it happened, and today was no different. The photo halfway down was of a well-built young man in an orange jumpsuit, sitting next to an attorney at what was obviously a hearing. The headline over the accompanying story read “Drunk Driver’s Tragic Past Recounted.”
John sighed. So this was the guy who had drunk far too much and gone out driving last Friday night. The one who was responsible for two deaths. He looked at the picture again. God, this one is Yours, too, no matter what he’s done. Show him the way to forgiveness. Please.
He lifted the silent prayer because it was easier than hating the young man. No answer resounded in his heart, but he felt a sense of purpose, a knowing that along the way he was supposed to pray for the boy. Clearly
the kid hadn’t intended to go out and kill two children. John finished what was left in his coffee cup, then held the paper up and began reading the article.
According to the story, the boy—Jeremy Fisher—was an only child whose father, an army reservist, had been called up two years earlier and assigned to a unit serving in Iraq. A few months after he left, his wife began seeing someone else.
“The marriage was already rocky,” a friend was quoted as saying. “She had no intention of waiting two years for her husband to come home.”
Mrs. Fisher had moved to New Mexico with an old boyfriend, leaving Jeremy at home to fend for himself.
“A history of reckless-driving and drunk-driving arrests had already severed the relationship between mother and son,” a police officer said. “Left to himself, the suspect went a little wild.”
Based on the list of arrests and prior convictions, Jeremy went more than a little wild. He dropped out of Clear Creek High, and over the summer he had squandered all the money his grand-parents had set aside for his college education. It became increasingly clear that Jeremy had trouble with alcohol.
“Twice during the summer the suspect had been arrested for drunk driving and ordered to attend a treatment program,” the police officer said. “He attempted the program once but lasted only a few days before dropping out.”
John blinked and looked around the house. It was lonely, but at least he’d lived entire decades where he was surrounded by the people he loved. How would it feel to be sixteen and living alone, knowing your mother was in another state starting a new life and your father was overseas in Iraq?
He thought of his own son, Luke, and his poor decisions a few years back. If John and Elizabeth hadn’t been there for him, this story could’ve been Luke’s. He might’ve dropped off the deep end if they hadn’t pursued him with the relentless love of God, assuring him that they loved him and forgave him and would always have a place for him.
John looked at the article again. Where would the kid go now? The story said he was facing ten years in prison because he was a repeat offender and had ignored previous court mandates.
John shuddered. God . . . there must be redemption for Jeremy Fisher, right? The same way there’s redemption for everyone. So please . . . bring someone into his life who can show him Your love and grace and peace, someone who can let him see that even he can be forgiven.
The phone rang, and John took a quick breath, letting the details of the article pass for now. He stood, took the phone from its base, and clicked the On button. “Hello?”
“John? It’s Elaine.” Her voice was upbeat but hesitant. “Just thought I’d see how your week’s going.” She paused. “I know Friday night was hard.”
“Well, that’s very thoughtful.” He took the phone into the family room and sat in his comfortable recliner, the one with the full view of the fireplace wall and the photos of his kids. His heart beat a little faster as he settled back into the chair. “I’m fine. I was just reading about Jeremy Fisher, the drunk driver in the accident.”
“I read it too. So sad. He’s been heading for this type of disaster for a long time.”
“He has.” John stared at the photographs on the mantel and let his eyes settle on Luke. “I keep thinking, what if the boy’s parents had been around, helping him find the way?”
“Me too.” She waited again. “Hey, how are your squash and tomatoes holding out?”
“I’m eating them.” John smiled and tried to figure out his feelings. He and Elaine were comfortable friends, two people who had known each other for years. So why did things between them feel different now? He leaned hard on the right arm of the chair and shifted his gaze to the front window. It was dark outside, but he could still see the shadowy branches of the old oak tree. “I had fun the other day.”
“It was nice, wasn’t it?” She uttered a comfortable chuckle. “Conversations with friends are precious. I learned that after my husband died.”
Cancer had taken Elaine’s husband years before it took Elizabeth, so if anyone understood loneliness, Elaine did. John narrowed his eyes. “I’m finding that out myself.” The song in the background changed, and a familiar melody surrounded him. “Sometimes I think I’ll go crazy if I have another silent night in this old house.”
“Exactly.” In the background, he heard the clanking of dishes. “You know what I liked about being with you the other day?”
“What?”
“I liked your honesty.” Her tone was less bubbly now, more thoughtful. “You’re an honest man, John Baxter. Honesty means integrity, and that’s not something you find too often anymore.”
John tried to remember what they’d talked about that would have given her the impression he was honest. He sat up straighter. “Thanks, Elaine. That’s kind of you.”
“Well, it’s true. You told me your concerns for Luke living with his wife and baby in New York City and about your hopes for Ashley and Landon.” Her smile was audible in her voice. “I felt like I could see their lives playing out as you talked.”
“Good.” His heart was still beating faster than before. “That’s the way it should be with friends.”
They talked some more about the drunk driver and the funeral tomorrow. Neither he nor Elaine was going, but Elaine said she would call one of her friends who had a grandchild in CKT to get a report on how the kids in the group were doing.
Finally, after ten minutes of talking, Elaine got around to what must’ve been the real reason for her call. “The farmers’ market runs again this weekend. If you need more squash and tomatoes, I’d love to go with you.”
He laughed, trying to sound relaxed and unsurprised. “I’d love that, Elaine.”
After that, the conversation ran down, and John agreed to pick her up Saturday morning.
Not until he hung up did he fully exhale. It was no big deal, right? Getting a call from Elaine Denning, agreeing to a second straight Saturday of visiting the farmers’ market with her? Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to think twice about, true?
He sat motionless for a moment and let those thoughts sink in. The horrible CKT accident had distracted him from thinking too hard about what his time with Elaine meant, or whether it was introducing a new friendship or a new season in his life. The fact was, spending last Saturday with Elaine had been a breath of fresh air. She’d talked about a wide range of issues with depth and interest, and she spoke with a candor and compassion that had caused the morning to pass too quickly.
But what did that mean? And why was he feeling like he should run to his room, find his wedding album, and stare at photos of Elizabeth? As if somehow he’d betrayed her by even thinking such things. He’d known Elaine a long time, so what was the big deal? He stared out the window again. The deal was, last summer they used to visit in a group. Now they were making plans for the second straight week to spend time alone together.
He stood and switched off the music. Maybe he would turn in early and catch up on his reading. Something to distract him. The feelings mixing around in his mind were too confusing to sort through. But he was sure of one thing: he wasn’t ready to think of Elaine in a future way, wasn’t even ready to imagine having another relationship like the one he’d shared with Elizabeth. But maybe—just maybe—he was ready for something else.
A friendship that would bring some life back into his days and take the edge off the terrible silence.
Ashley loved going out on her brother-in-law’s boat, but rarely did all four of their schedules line up the way they did Thursday. Sarah Jo’s funeral was set for late afternoon, but this morning Ashley and Landon and Cole met Kari and Ryan and their two children at the boat docks at Lake Monroe. Cole was missing school for the occasion. A fine layer of fog hung on the lake as they pulled out the boat just before nine.
The mood was quiet, somber. They had three fishing poles on board, but even Cole wasn’t his usual talkative self. He didn’t know all the details of the accident, just that it had happened and
that his parents had somewhere to go later because of it. He wore a bright orange life jacket, and as soon as the boat began moving, he busied himself near the bucket of worms.
“I can’t imagine what the families are going through.” Kari settled into a seat near the windshield, taking advantage of the windbreak while she nursed little Ryan beneath a blanket. “I’d be so mad at the drunk driver.”
Ashley sat a few seats away. “I talked to Katy again the other day. There’s a lot of that. People want the guy locked up for a long time after what he did.”
Ryan was at the wheel of the boat, and Jessie and Landon had joined Cole near the back, studying the worms.
Jessie looked squeamish. “Does the wormy hurt on the hook?”
Landon bit his lip to hide his smile, and Ashley did the same. “God made some worms for bait, Jessie. You don’t need to worry, okay?”
“Okay.” Still, she took a step back.
Kari adjusted baby Ryan and looked out at the lake. “How do you get past that?” She shifted her gaze to Ashley. “I mean, how do you move on and let it go? Some kid drank too much, and that’s why your child’s dead. It’s so wrong.”
“I feel for Katy Hart.” Ashley slid closer to her sister. “Those kids are all looking to her. Some of the parents too.”
“It’s a lot.” Kari stroked the back of little Ryan’s head. “You’re going to the funeral?”
Ashley nodded. “Landon’s going with me. Dad’s watching Cole.” Her throat felt scratchy, and she blinked so she wouldn’t tear up. “I saw Tom Sawyer a few times. I can still see Sarah Jo singing next to Tim Reed, her eyes all lit up. Her voice was amazing.”
Kari kissed her son’s forehead. “I’ll bet she’s singing right now.”
Tears blurred Ashley’s vision, but she smiled. “I like that.” She sniffed. “That’s the way I’ll think about it.”
Their conversation fell to a comfortable silence. As they moved farther out toward the middle of the lake, they picked up speed, and a cool wind blew over them. Ashley studied Landon and Ryan. They were smiling, pointing at something on the opposite shore, and sharing an occasional laugh. The picture warmed Ashley’s heart. How wonderful that they were such good friends, that they gravitated toward each other in any setting.
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