The Brotherhood

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “No, I meant you guys, you two, both of you.”

  She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Nothing fancy. Maybe pizza.”

  “Well, okay. I guess. Max, you want pizza?”

  “Pizza!”

  “That’s a yes.”

  They walked to a place nearby, and as they sat waiting for their food, Max climbed into Boone’s lap. “Max!” Haeley said, looking mortified.

  “Nah, it’s all right,” Boone said, putting his hand on the boy’s back to steady him. So many memories. Such pain. He was impressed that this seemed natural for Max. He played with stuff on the table, ignoring Boone.

  “He doesn’t do that with most people,” Haeley said. “Despite being a day care kid, he’s kind of clingy.”

  “Maybe because of that, huh?”

  “Maybe. I hate leaving him every day, I can tell you that.”

  “No family nearby?”

  She shook her head. “Deep South.”

  “I don’t hear any accent.”

  “We’re from Michigan, but when my parents retired, they moved to South Carolina.”

  “Does his dad get to see him?”

  Haeley exhaled loudly through pursed lips. “There’s no dad in the picture.”

  “And you don’t want to talk about it. No problem.”

  “Ah, I don’t mind. I was stupid, a bad judge of character. Away from God, you know?”

  Boone nodded. He knew, all right.

  “I let him move in,” she said, “supported him for a while. The day he found out I was pregnant, he was out of there. Haven’t seen him since.”

  “You ever hear from him?”

  “Oh, sure. I know where he is. Works at a casino in Indiana. Last time I heard from him it was just him telling me not to expect a dime, that the baby was my fault, and that he didn’t feel any responsibility.”

  “Quality guy.”

  “My poor choice. Pushed me back to my faith, though, I’ll tell you that.”

  “That’s good then, I guess.”

  She fell silent when their food came. She made Max sit next to her, and Boone enjoyed watching her with him, making sure the pizza was placed far enough from him so he wouldn’t burn himself. She looked expectantly at Boone.

  He smiled. “Dig in.”

  “Max is used to praying before a meal,” she said. “Want to do the honors?”

  “Uh, no, go ahead.”

  She held Max’s hand and he reached for Boone’s.

  “Dear God, thank you for this food and for a new friend. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen!” Max said, smiling.

  How nice that she had been quiet and not showy so Boone didn’t have to feel embarrassed, except that he had declined to pray. Haeley didn’t eat much, then seemed to study Boone, making him feel self-conscious.

  “What?” he said.

  “You ever feel unforgiven, even though you know better?”

  “Humph. When I feel unforgiven, I know I deserve to.”

  “Come on. You a new Christian or what?”

  He briefly told her his history.

  “So,” she said, “like me, you were raised in church, and like I say, you know better. I knew better than to live with a guy too, but while I really came clean about it and asked forgiveness, there are times when I don’t feel forgiven.”

  Boone wanted to tell her that he was having trouble forgiving God, but it seemed way too personal this early in their friendship. “I’m no saint,” he said. “I use language I never used and never thought I would use before I became a cop.”

  “I don’t know how Christian officers can avoid that, with what they hear from criminals and their fellow officers every day.”

  “Yeah, but it’s no excuse.”

  “So then you do know we’re forgiven even if we don’t feel it,” she said.

  “I should.”

  “You would if you were hearing it every week in church. I bet that’s what your pastor what’s-his-name preaches.”

  “Francisco Sosa? Yeah. It is. Far as I can remember.”

  “Shame on you, Boone. You’ve got to get back to church.”

  He was surprised he could take this, but she was so easy to talk to. “I know.”

  “But?”

  “Lots of reasons.”

  “Painful memories.”

  “Yeah, but more than that.”

  “None of my business, but if it’s too hard for you to go back to Community Life, there are other places—”

  “I know.”

  “Listen to me, advising you. Sorry.”

  “No, you’re right,” he said.

  “And as I told you a while ago, you know where I am on Sunday mornings.”

  “That an invitation?”

  “Well, what else would it be? Should I watch for you?”

  “Nah. Not this week. Maybe sometime.”

  “Otherwise engaged?” She looked at him as if she’d caught him.

  “Pretty busy,” he said.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, a tease in her voice. “So busy you can make dinner plans at the drop of a hat.”

  He laughed. “What does that mean, anyway, ‘at the drop of a hat’?”

  “Don’t ask me. I don’t even own a hat.”

  When they finished and were on their way out into the darkness, Max suddenly wrapped his arms around Boone’s thigh, and he had to slow himself to keep from tripping over the boy.

  “He likes you,” Haeley said. “He’s got the instincts of a puppy that way.”

  “Guess I should be glad he isn’t barking at me.”

  Boone walked them to her car, and she thanked him for “doing the pizza thing on short notice.”

  “At the drop of a hat?”

  “Exactly,” she said.

  “Can we do it again sometime?”

  “Maybe.”

  At home Boone found himself obsessing about Max and how he reminded him of the tactile joys of just cuddling Josh. He hauled out some pictures and made himself miserable.

  When his phone chirped, he had a fleeting hope that it might be Haeley. But why would it be? He hadn’t even given her his number. Rather, it was another reference from Pastor Sosa. Psalm 62:7:

  In God is my salvation and my glory; the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God.

  How Boone wished that were true for him.

  15

  The Assignment

  Boone had to ADMIT that Saturday proved one of the strangest days he’d had since he’d been alone. His mind was its usual jumble, but for the first time his thoughts were not dominated by his losses. Memories of Nikki and Josh were still ever present, as they would always be, but for once his mind was occupied by the future.

  He knew it held a new assignment, and he was so eager for Monday morning’s meeting that he could barely think of anything else. And yet he found himself intrigued by Haeley. Not everyone was so easy to be with and talk to, and while Boone wanted to move slowly and not get ahead of himself, he simply wanted to see her again, away from the office. And he couldn’t deny, painful as it was, he was enamored of Max too.

  Boone’s daylong restlessness got him out of the house, spending much of his time just driving around and talking himself out of asking Jack Keller for Haeley’s phone number. All he needed was to come on too quickly and too strong and scare her off. It wasn’t as if he saw some long-term future with her, but he needed a friend—and so did she. And he didn’t want to be one of “those” guys. She’d had enough trouble with them.

  Boone’s curiosity took him past her church—just in case he needed it for future reference—and Haeley’s description of it as a storefront proved an overstatement. A tiny window between a fast-food chicken place and a laundry bore a simple sign announcing North Beach Fellowship. A peek inside revealed rows of folding chairs facing a small riser and a screen.

  Boone told himself it was high time he got back to church, but he wasn’t fooling himself. He would be there the next morni
ng to see Haeley . . . and Max. On his way home, his phone buzzed; it was a text message. He pulled off to read it and was glad to see that it was from Haeley.

  Sorry, got your number from the boss. Didn’t want to bother you, but you said your pastor sometimes texted you verses? After what you said about language, I have one for you. Proverbs 13:3. Hope I’m not overstepping. Thanks again for the pizza at the drop of a hat. See you Monday.

  Boone looked up the verse when he got home:

  He who guards his mouth preserves his life, but he who opens wide his lips shall have destruction.

  Boone texted back a simple thanks, grateful to have Haeley’s number. Sleep again proved elusive that night, but for a different reason than before. Boone was more eager than troubled. Haeley thought she would see him Monday. He hoped she would be pleasantly surprised to see him sooner.

  There was little Boone hated more than the awkward moments in a new place when he would not know what to do. So the next morning he parked far across the parking lot from North Beach Fellowship and waited till starting time before even approaching the door. Apparently the little church was informal about time, because a couple of minutes after they were to begin, people were still milling about and talking. Boone hung back, away from the door and out of sight, until the music started and people began taking their seats.

  Boone slipped into the back row behind an enormous black lady in a flowery dress and festive hat who held a little white boy in her lap. Boone was glancing around looking for Haeley when the boy jumped to his feet on the woman’s thighs and reached toward him, squealing, “Pizza!”

  The woman fought to hang on to him, and Boone put a finger to his lips. As Max continued to try to wrench free and get to him, the woman turned and scowled at Boone. “You ain’t going to no stranger, Maxie. No, sir.”

  “I work with his mom,” Boone whispered.

  “Maybe you do; maybe you don’t,” the woman said. “I’ll know soon enough.”

  Max was causing such a ruckus trying to get to him that Boone moved across the aisle to another back-row seat and quit looking at the boy. Up front a guitarist who introduced himself as Sean, a keyboard player, and a drummer kicked up the volume as lyrics appeared on the screen. The band and a couple of singers—one was Haeley; despite the cramped quarters she had apparently not noticed him yet—led out in a rousing, folksy rendition of an old hymn Boone remembered from his childhood.

  The noise and the beat distracted Max, and the woman got him turned around and bouncing as the little congregation stood and began singing.

  Boone found he was able to sing along, but he had to admit he’d never heard singing quite like this. There seemed no self-consciousness on anyone’s part. Some in the congregation played along with tambourines and maracas, and people seemed to sing full-throated and emotionally. He had memories of having his nose in a hymnbook as a child, singing this same song as a dirge.

  When about twenty-five minutes of singing had ended, a young man who introduced himself as the pastor made announcements and asked for prayer requests. The band members and singers found their seats, and when the woman watching Max whispered to Haeley and pointed, Haeley turned quickly and gestured for Boone to join them.

  He slipped across the aisle next to her and Max immediately climbed into his lap. The woman leaned over and said, “Sorry, son, but I don’t just hand him over to people I don’t know.”

  “You did the right thing,” Boone whispered.

  Meanwhile, people stood one at a time to either express thanks for prayer or tell of current needs. A couple mentioned money problems, and another woman said her son was back in jail. Finally an elderly woman stood, and Boone could tell from the sympathetic sounds from the others that she was known and that they knew what was coming.

  “Dorothy,” the pastor said.

  “You all know,” she said just above a whisper, “that my beloved Henry passed last Monday. I appreciate so many of you coming to the funeral. We would have been married fifty-three years come next month. I just want to praise God for the time we had together, but most of all for being with me these last few days. I won’t lie to you. This has been the worst week of my life. There were times I wondered if Jesus cared, if he knew how empty I felt. Many of you have been there and know there’s no hole in your heart like when you lose somebody you love. If I didn’t have the Lord, I’d be lost.”

  As she sat, many reached to pat her on the back. The pastor whispered to the song leader, who immediately rose and plugged in his guitar. The pastor said, “Normally we would have prayer now and one more song before we dismiss the kids to their class, but I’ve asked Sean to sing a special song just for Dorothy. While he sings, the children can go. Their teacher this week is Miss Haeley.”

  A wave of disappointment rolled over Boone as Haeley reached for Max and they began to leave. She flashed him an apologetic look, and just like that he was alone.

  With the first haunting chords Sean strummed, Boone was mesmerized and all but forgot where he was. His peripheral vision left him, and all he could see was the lone guitarist under a cheap spotlight as he closed his eyes and sang earnestly:

  Does Jesus care when my heart is pained

  Too deeply for mirth or song;

  As the burdens press, and the cares distress,

  And the way grows weary and long?

  Does Jesus care when I’ve said good-bye

  To the dearest on earth to me,

  And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks—

  Is it aught to him? Does he see?

  Dorothy stood and raised her arms, tears streaming, and all over the room, others did the same as Sean sang the refrain. Boone stood and edged to the door, knowing he would be unable to stay another minute after the song was finished.

  Oh, yes, he cares; I know he cares,

  His heart is touched with my grief.

  When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,

  I know my Savior cares.

  Boone hurried to his car and shut himself in behind the wheel. He sat unable to move, knowing he had to pray. But what could he say? He did not understand God, and he was finally learning that no one did or ever would. He didn’t like what God allowed, but Boone had also learned that it wasn’t his place to try to do God’s job for him.

  “I asked you to reveal yourself to me,” he said hoarsely. “And you remind me that you care. I confess I’ve been doubting that. But I believe it. I know it. I know you care. For whatever reason, you allowed the dearest on earth to be taken from me. I’ll never understand or know why, but I will rest in the fact that you know what it’s done to me. And that you care.”

  Boone was left so frazzled that he didn’t feel he had the strength to even drive home. He recognized Haeley’s car and decided to wait for her and Max and see if he could have lunch with them. Meanwhile he sat resolving to do something about his new realization. Boone was suddenly aware that he was finally willing to return to his faith. He also recognized that his faith had never been vibrant or fervent, and that had to change.

  North Beach Fellowship, though he hadn’t even stayed for the message, hit him as so much more personal and inviting than Community Life that he wanted to try it as his church home, at least for a while. Francisco Sosa would understand. In fact, he would encourage it. Boone wasn’t sure he would ever be comfortable in the church where he and Nikki had served and Josh had been dedicated.

  More than an hour later, Haeley and Max were among the last to emerge from the little storefront. Boone waited near her car.

  “Pizza!” Max said.

  Boone laughed but feared his red eyes would give away that he had been crying.

  “No, honey,” Haeley said. “Lunch at home today.”

  “Aw, will it keep?” Boone said.

  “’Fraid not,” she said. “I need to get Max down, and I have a lot to—”

  “But there’s so much I want to talk to you about.”

  “Today’s not going to work, Boon
e. I’m sorry.”

  “You sure? Maybe later, after he’s up?”

  “No, not today.”

  Boone was stunned and couldn’t hide it. Had he misunderstood something, offended her?

  “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe we can talk on break.”

  “I don’t take breaks,” he said. “And I need more than a few minutes.”

  Haeley put Max in his car seat and stood by the open door. “Boone, it’s obvious you’re working through some pretty deep stuff.”

  “I am. That’s why—”

  “Well, I am too, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for two vulnerable people to lean on each other.”

  “Don’t make it more than it is, Haeley. I just want to talk, be friends. . . .”

  “We can be friends at work for now, okay?”

  Well, no, it wasn’t okay. What was this? Part of how God was revealing himself to Boone? Was it too much to hope that a new good friend might be part of the deal?

  “So, no more meals—the three of us, I mean?”

  “I didn’t say that. Just, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Neither you nor I have much going outside the office, so . . .”

  “Play it by ear?”

  She nodded, looking eager to escape.

  “I don’t want to become a pest,” he said, “but I can’t promise I’ll quit asking.”

  “I didn’t ask you to quit asking, but you’ll do yourself a favor if you slow down.”

  “Got it.”

  “How did you like our church?”

  “I liked it. Will it bother you if I come back?”

  “It’s no place to see me. You can see how busy I am there. But no, it wouldn’t bother me at all. In fact, it would encourage me to see you here.”

  Bitterly disappointed, Boone texted Francisco Sosa and asked if they could get together for coffee late that evening.

  I would almost any time, Sosa wrote back, but after multiple services this weekend, Sunday night is family crash time. Pick another time and I’ll make it work. Meanwhile, here’s another passage to look up. Romans 8:38-39.