Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel

by Tricia Goyer

  The first time on tour he'd been just a kid—barely twenty. He lived with his roommates and the only thing they'd had in the fridge was booze. He'd been dating Carrie, Roy's daughter, at the time. But that didn't mean he didn't bring home other girls every now and again. His life had been headed for a train wreck until his buddy Jason drank himself to death on Ben's living room couch. The tour stopped after that and the trial followed. Ben had been acquitted, on one condition. For the rest of his life he had to write one letter a week to an underage drinker who'd been caught drinking or arrested for a DUI. He'd continued writing those letters, even when he was on tour. And hopefully those he wrote to understood his change. The thing was, those in the audience now had no idea he was different from what he used to be.

  In the years since Ben's last tour he'd given his life to God. He moved to Montana to have a quieter life, to focus more on God and the people He placed in his life. Sure, between songs he shared a little about Montana, about his faith, and about writing "Every Warm Cabin Needs a Good Wife" with the audience, but what if he shared more . . . shared how God had really change his life?

  Roy wouldn't like it. In fact, Roy already shot down the idea when Ben mentioned it months ago. But then, the crowds didn't pay to come see Roy. They paid to come see him, and if they really wanted to know him . . .

  Well, Ben would let them do just that.

  Naomi's eyes fluttered closed as weariness attempted to pull her into its grasp. Each time she drifted off to sleep another contraction jolted her awake. Her eyes popped open. A gush of wetness warmed her legs. "What is it?"

  "Just your water," the midwife said as she hurried into the room. Marianna followed. Naomi's shoulders relaxed some to know they were there. Levi looked at the women and for the first time Naomi noticed how pale he was.

  Levi gazed down at her, wiping her damp hair from her face. "You are doing gut, Naomi."

  "Thank you . . . you can go in the other room and wait. If it's more comfortable for you."

  "Ja, I can do that." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead and then hurried out of the room.

  Another pain gripped her, and Naomi's hands reached for the iron bed frame, pulling against it.

  The midwife checked her and then leaned her face in close. "I came just in time. On the next contraction you can push."

  Naomi nodded and did as she was told, but it didn't make a difference. The minutes ticked past, and her body grew weak with the effort.

  The midwife came to the side of the bed and brought her face close. "Look at me. You're making progress, Naomi. Don't give up. I believe one more push will do it, the baby's head is crowning."

  Naomi gasped. She tossed her head from side-to-side. "I am not sure. I don't think I can." She looked to Marianna, and her friend lifted her finger, wiping tears from Naomi's face. Tears she didn't know she'd been crying.

  "I'll be right back." Marianna hurried from the room.

  A moment later she returned, Levi at her side.

  Naomi reached for his hand. "Are you sure? Are you okay being here?"

  Levi smiled. "More than anything. I jest thought that was a nice way you were asking me to leave."

  "I wan—want you here." She barely got the words out before she looked to the midwife. The woman nodded, and Naomi knew what she had to do. She had to push through the pain.

  Levi wiped her brow again. "One more. One more."

  With all that was in her Naomi bore down. A cry escaped her lips and at that moment her child entered the world.

  "It's a boy!" Marianna's voice, filled with wonder.

  Naomi's hands reached for her son.

  The infant's shuddering cry filled the room. The midwife cut the umbilical cord and then placed the baby on her chest. His body was pink. His hair light. He looked up at her with squinty eyes.

  With a small gasp, the tears came heavy now. Joy over being able to see her baby at last, but worry tinged the edges. What did Levi think now . . . now that he saw the child—the physical evidence of what she'd done?

  Levi had stood by her and asked few questions. She told him she'd met someone when she was out with a friend and things got out of hand. She never confessed it was Aaron's baby. Levi had never tried to explain to anyone that he'd been the honorable one.

  She'd asked his forgiveness, and he'd offered her grace. She supposed he found it easy to love her because they'd built that foundation over the years, but what about this child? Would Levi be able to love a baby not his own? The truth stood on her chest, pushing the air from her lungs.

  "He's beautiful." Levi whispered in a hushed tone. "I can't believe it. We have a son, Naomi. I have a son."

  A cry of relief pushed from Naomi's lips, and she lifted her eyes to Levi. Excitement brightened his gaze.

  Levi bent down and kissed her forehead. "He's beautiful."

  She tried to take in all the baby's features, but tears blurred her eyes. Just as happy as she was to see the small, pink bundle, happiness filled her chest and seeped out of her pores to hear Levi's words.

  His son. Levi called this baby his son.

  She looked up at Levi, love flooding her. What did she do to deserve a man such as this? "Will you name him, Levi? Will you name the baby?"

  "Of course." He smiled at her. "He's a beautiful boy, Naomi. I'd be honored to give our son a name."

  The baby squalled, and Marianna stepped forward to get a better look. Her eyes were tired. No one had slept much last night. Still, the small one was worth staying up for. They passed him around and marveled at his perfect nose, his small fingers, his feet that seemed too big for his tiny, wrinkled body.

  Naomi had finally drifted off to sleep, and Marianna sat by Levi as he held his son.

  When the morning warmed, they moved to the back step. The late morning sun elongated shadows around them. "I think it's pretty amazing Naomi wants you to name the baby. Have you thought of a name yet?"

  Levi nodded. "I was thinking Samuel. We can call him Sam for short. He's one of my favorite men in the Bible. I appreciate how his mother dedicated him to God's service and let another raise him. I'm no Eli, and this boy's mother will still be raising him, but I like the idea that our children belong to the Lord." Emotion caught his voice in his throat. "It's an honor in being part of training him in the way he should go."

  She could tell her brother's tears bothered him, and she gently slugged his arm to lighten the moment. "You sound so mature. Not like the Levi I know."

  "Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. I also feel mature—maybe because I'm a father now."

  She smiled. "And it sounds like you've been reading your Bible."

  Levi nodded. "Some. I have been trying to make time in my day."

  "That's gut. I think you should. It makes all the difference. You need to make it a priority."

  Levi shifted in his seat, and she could tell their conversation was entering dangerous territory.

  "But enough about that." She pushed off from the porch step and stood. "You don't need me telling you."

  His gaze softened and she was thankful he hadn't reacted like some of the women. In her own quiet time, she brought each of them up in her prayer. She also prayed that God would show her how to be gentle. The Lord Jesus desired change in others, but His way wasn't always hers.

  "Do you need anything from me? I can make you a sandwich or watch the baby if you wish to rest."

  He shook his head. "I am fine. I have a few things I need to tell Sam—about our life. About our family."

  She pressed her lips together and she crossed her arms over her chest. She felt warm inside as if spring had birthed in her heart too. "All right, I'm going to lay down myself and leave you two boys to your little talk."

  Ben got back from his morning jog, and noticed an envelope from Annie from the West Kootenai Kraft and Grocery waiting for him on his bed. Just seeing the store's name on the return address label caused his heart to jump into his throat. Ben was already sweaty, but a rush of heat trave
led over him as a image flashed in his mind. It was of Marianna sitting across the table from him at the store. Her eyes were bright as laughter poured from her lips. He bit his lip and tried to swallow down the emotion. It didn't matter how much wishing he did, praying they did, that was a place they'd never be together again. His gut ached realizing that.

  He tore open the envelope, wishing Annie had somehow managed to smash down some baked goods and include them inside. No luck. Instead there was a small stack of mail and a note from Annie written on blue and white stationery.

  Dear Ben,

  We sure miss you around these parts. Every time Jenny goes down to Eureka she comes back with those tabloid magazines that show pictures of you standing in the line at Starbucks or climbing off your tour bus. Sarah told me to tell you that she doesn't understand why you'd pay five dollars for a cup of coffee when it's only one dollar here at the store. Millie says to tell you that she bought your CD for everyone on her Christmas list. (All of us in these parts can attest to that.) Edgar says you need a hair cut.

  Edgar also kept bugging me because your mail was stacking up. I threw out all the junk mail and here are the bills and such. I hope you make it up to these parts soon. If you do let me know, we can have a concert here at the store. I reckon it wouldn't be near as fancy as those places you're playing in these days, but you'll never have a crowd with bigger smiles and more love pouring from their hearts as all of us.

  Love you lots!

  Annie

  Ben looked through the mail. Annie was right. Most were just bills and those were already being taken care of through automatic payments. But something caught his eye.

  A handwritten letter. From James Folk. He'd prayed for that name before—many times. It was one of the kids he wrote to.

  Seeing the letter from him was almost as exciting as receiving a Christmas card from Marianna. He tore it open.

  Dear Mr. Stone,

  I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write you back. It's been almost a year since you wrote after I got caught for drinking and driving. I read your letter back then—well, at least most of it. I wasn't very interested at the time. Your talk of God was something a guy who was enjoying doing his own thing didn't want to hear at the time.

  Then, when my mom was helping me pack up my things for college, we found your letter again. She recognized your name. We wondered if you were the singer who my mom likes. We checked online and found out you were. I took that letter to college with me because, well, because I never had a letter from someone famous before.

  At college I found out my roommate Mick was a Christian. This bummed me out at first, but the more I watched him, the more I wanted to be more like him. He seems content nearly all the time and not caught up with all the drama of college. Remembering you were a Christian, too, I pulled out the letter again.

  I've read it at least once a day for the last month. And the more I read it, the more sense it made. The weird thing was that my roommate was telling me some of the same things you wrote in your letter. I thought that must be God talking to me, because things like that just don't happen.

  So what I wanted to write and tell you is that last night I prayed the prayer you included in the letter. I'm going to tell my friend tomorrow. I know he'll be excited, but I wanted to have a day to just let it sink in. I feel a difference already. I'm more excited about my future. Mostly I have hope. I just wanted to write and tell you that. Just think—I'm never gonna be alone again. I know God will be with me wherever I go.

  I know you're busy with concerts and stuff so don't feel you have to write me back, but if you do I included the address to my dorm. Thanks again for writing. It means a lot. And I'm gonna have to tell my mom she was wrong. You're not cool because of your music. You're cool because you took the time to write to a guy like me.

  Thanks again,

  James

  Ben wiped away the tears he hadn't realized he'd been crying and sank down onto his knees, next to his travel bed.

  "Thank You, God." He not only thanked God for this kid's salvation—which was something to rejoice about—but also for letting him know he was making a difference.

  He pulled out his notebook and looked over a list of kids' names he'd written letters to since he'd been on the road. He knew now that his job was to just keep sending the letters. It was up to God to impact the people He chose, wherever and whenever He chose.

  "God be with them. Be with Roni, and Claire, and Dean, David, Eric, Kennisha. Let them know You love them. Let them know that when they turn to You that You'll have good plans for them, even when it feels like they're on a bus headed to who knows where . . ."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Even with the bright lights on him Ben saw the older man. He looked familiar, like someone Ben used to know. He nodded at Ben and waved. It wasn't the wild wave of a fan but a soft wave of familiarity. Do I know this guy?

  Ben tried to keep his mind on his music, but at the same time he wracked his brain trying to remember where he'd met the man. Maybe a former teacher or coach from school?

  No, he would have remembered that.

  As the concert started to wind down, the energy in the room grew. The letter from James had renewed him, his passion. Reminded him that sharing God's truth changed lives. He looked past the bright lights and scanned the crowd. God had given him a platform, a message, for a purpose.

  The cheers from the crowd increased. Everyone waited for the song he was most well-known for. But before he sang about the warm cabin and the man who needed a wife, Ben set down his guitar and approached the mic.

  "You know behind every song there's a story. When I first started this tour I would talk about the young woman I fell in love with in the mountains of Montana. I shared how my house seemed emptier after I met her because she wasn't in it, and everyone like that story." He wiped at the smile on his face. "It was a good tearjerker. Seems people love to cry." Laughter carried across the audience.

  "But that was just part of the story. See, there's a reason I ended up in Montana." Then Ben told about how he'd been caught up in the wrong kinds of things and how good people he cared about were hurt.

  And killed.

  "I was a broken man after that. My stupidity had caused another's death. When I went up to Montana I found peace there, but I didn't know why. It was during that time I started reading my Bible. I started getting to know some of the good folks that called West Kootenai home, and they invited me to church.

  "Sittin' on that pew I heard about a Dude who knew everything I'd ever done—everything—and loved me anyway. Not only that, He didn't want me to carry the pain of those mistakes any longer. In fact, He gave His life so I wouldn't have to."

  "Preach it, brother!" someone called from the back.

  Ben smiled. "I prayed a simple prayer that first Sunday. I told Jesus He could have my life if He'd take my sin with it. The amazing thing was He gave me more back—peace, joy, love, Himself."

  Claps erupted around the auditorium.

  "And that, my friends, is the backdrop for this song. I'm still praying for a good wife, but until then I have peace knowing God is by my side. With each mile my tour bus drives I find myself surrendering more and more to Him—to God's will and God's way." As the claps grew louder, Ben picked up his guitar and started playing the song that everyone had been waiting for.

  "Every warm cabin needs a good wife," he sang.

  After the show, Ben wasn't surprised to see the older guy from the audience standing outside his dressing room as he exited.

  "Hey, Ben." The guy patted Ben's back.

  Who was this man? "Hey yourself."

  "So I see that Roy sucked you in again. Put you on the road." The man chuckled.

  Ben stood straighter. Now he knew they'd met before, but where?

  The man extended his hand.

  Ben took it, shook, and then released it. "I'm sorry. I know that I know you but . . ."

  The man laughed and ran his hand through his gray
ing hair. "I'm sorry. I think we only met once, years ago. The first time you were on tour. I'm Denny Fairweather."

  "Denny." Ben slapped his leg. "Of course. The songwriter. I should have known. I think I used two or three of your songs on my first CD. And I have two of your songs on this new one. No wonder you were smiling so big as I sang them. Wow." Ben studied the man's eyes and saw something there. It wasn't just the finding of a long lost friend. He saw a peace that he recognized. "It's so good to see you!"

  Denny nodded. "Yeah, I feel the same. It was a great crowd, lots of energy. And they seemed to like my songs, which is a plus."

  Ben studied the man. He looked like an average guy you'd find standing in front of you at the grocery store line. Well, except for the fact that his talent for writing music was legendary—at least to Ben.

  Ben squeezed the older guy's shoulder. "Want to head out and get some coffee? I'd love to catch up."

  Denny's face brightened. "Sure. I'd consider it an honor."

  Ben chuckled. "Well, that makes two of us then. And since you're more familiar with the area, I'll let you lead the way."

  They went to a little diner not far from the civic center where the concert had been held. It was the kind of diner that had been around fifty years and nothing had changed. The booth had red vinyl seats and chrome accents. There were a few people scattered around the booths, and from the way they all chatted back and forth, it appeared they were regulars. As Ben looked at the menu offerings: meatloaf, Reuben sandwiches, BLTs, he guessed they hadn't changed the menu in fifty years either.

  It felt strange to be here with the man whose songs he sang as his own. The guys from the band had gone out with a group of women—true groupies. Ben's heart grew sad at the thought.