by Gregg Stutts
Max nodded but wasn’t sure what else to say. Besides, he had his own problems to worry about. He left a message for Michelle to get a lawyer recommendation from Willy, but he wasn't even sure if she got the message. And if she did get it, was she even able to reach Willy? And even if Willy could recommend a lawyer, Max felt certain he would not be getting out of jail on a Sunday.
“What are you reading?" Max asked.
“The Bible," the man said. “God’s been trying to get my attention." He read a little bit more and said, “I've been ignoring him. Kind of for a long time."
He didn’t know it, but public-intoxication-guy was hitting a little too close to home. “What's his story?" Max said nodding to the other man who was still asleep.
“Him? He's got an anger problem," the man said. “What about you?"
“Me? Well, they think I was…” Max stopped himself. He knew he’d done nothing wrong, but suddenly the thought of saying it out loud felt shameful.
“They think what?” the man said.
“They think I had something to do with killing someone,” Max said. “But I’m innocent.”
The man studied Max for a moment then went on reading. Max went back to thinking about Michelle, Donnie, the Conway game, and whoever had landed him in jail. "I don't suppose you have a pen and paper do you?" Max asked.
“No, sorry," the man said. “They don't let us have pens. We might use them as shanks."
“Shanks?” Max asked.
“Yeah, you know, a shank,” the man said as he made a stabbing motion.
“Oh, yeah,” Max said. “A shank.”
The man read for several more minutes, then without looking up said, “I wonder if God is trying to get your attention, too.”
Chapter 60
Michelle woke up with a sore neck. The chair she sat in all night wasn't made for sleeping. She rolled her head around trying to loosen up the aching muscles. Nothing helped though. Rose had slept in the empty bed next to Willy. It was after midnight when they’d brought Willy into the room and were able to update Rose on his condition.
Willy had a nasty looking bruise on his forehead. The doctor said there was definitely a concussion and some swelling around the brain. For that reason, they were keeping him sedated. There were no other internal injuries though. They expected to keep him in the hospital for a few days.
Rose was sleeping peacefully, so Michelle slipped out quietly for some coffee. She found some at the Onyx Coffee Shop in the lobby. The girl said she’d just brewed a fresh pot. While Michelle sipped her coffee, she walked around the gift shop and thumbed through a couple magazines. She checked her phone and saw it was 9:10 a.m. On the way back to Willy’s room, she stopped to get Rose a cup of coffee and fixed it the way she liked it with a little cream and sugar.
By the time Michelle got back, Rose was awake and had pulled a chair up next to Willy’s bed. She held his hand and gently stroked his forehead, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. Michelle paused in the doorway and watched. She hoped she could still experience this kind of intimacy with Max. Michelle lingered in the hallway for a minute before entering and handing Rose her cup.
“Oh, thank you, dear,” Rose said. “I was just thinking about how much I’d love to be sitting on our deck with Willy sharing a cup of coffee.”
She squeezed Rose’s hand and said, “You know he’s going to be okay, don’t you?”
Rose smiled and said, “He’s a strong one, isn’t he?”
“I think you’re both strong,” Michelle said. “I think you’re the most amazing couple I’ve ever met. I just hope Max and I can come close to what you and Willy have.”
Rose squeezed Michelle’s hand and said, “I believe you will, dear. I really do. Don’t lose hope.” Michelle walked to the window while Rose continued to hold Willy’s hand. “You have to get better, old man. I need you back in our bed.”
Michelle unlocked her phone to search for an attorney to handle Max’s case. She saw a page of search results from her attempt to learn the name of Chris’ wife, but that would have to wait. She typed in, “criminal defense attorney lakeside ar” and waited.
Chapter 61
Breakfast was a microwaved sausage biscuit and a cup of coffee that tasted like it had been made three days ago and left on the burner ever since. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to lunch.
He had a meeting with his coaching staff to get ready for, but the odds of him being there didn’t look good. And he couldn’t even let them know where he was. He asked the guard for some paper and a pen again but got the same answer as before. He asked to make a phone call, but the guard only turned and walked away. There was still no word from Michelle and no visit from an attorney. Nothing indicated he was getting out any time soon.
He lay down on the bench and stared at the water-stained ceiling. I wonder if God is trying to get your attention, too. It was like those words were echoing off the walls. He couldn’t get them out of his head. He tried to focus on how best to stop Conway’s running game but kept coming back to the thought that God was trying to get his attention.
Without a clock, the morning seemed to drag on forever. He knew it was getting close to lunch when his stomach began to growl. Not long after that, one of the guards brought a tray with three sandwiches, three apples and three cups of water. Max asked for another cup of coffee and was surprised he got it. He thought the guard looked equally surprised that he actually wanted it.
While eating his soggy tuna fish sandwich and sipping another cup of bad coffee, he tried to focus on football. But it was useless. He couldn’t keep his mind on it. He wanted to ask the older man what time he thought it was, but what did it matter? Soon his assistant coaches would assemble at the field house and wonder where he was. And where he was, was in jail. For something he didn’t do. And didn’t know anything about.
Hour after hour, he sat on the bench with nothing to do. Without a plan. Without anyone to help him. And then he whispered, “What’s going on, God?” The answer was so clear; he thought the old man had said it. But he hadn’t. And the young guy was asleep again. “Was that you, God?” Max whispered again.
“Yes, it’s me. Do I have your attention now?”
Chapter 62
The old man wasn’t reading the Bible, so Max asked if he could borrow it.
“I guess he’s got your attention,” the man said.
“Yeah, guess so.”
It had been a number of years since he’d last read the Bible. For much of their marriage, he had a regular habit of reading it and writing in a journal each morning and sometimes again at night. Then when Sarah got sick, he spent even more time reading and studying…and begging God to heal her.
The last time he actually picked up the Bible and read it was the day before Sarah died. Throughout her illness, he held out hope God would come through. That God would heal her. He had believed. He had prayed. He had fasted. And yet, Sarah died anyway. And so had his faith.
He never stopped believing God existed. That wasn’t the issue. In fact, that was the problem. He was sure God existed. He just chose not to answer all the prayers to heal Sarah. Believing God existed was the easy part. The hard part was believing God was good. And if he wasn’t good, then how could he be trusted?
Good people get laid off. Some lose their homes or savings. Some go bankrupt. Loved ones get sick. Some die. And every day in the news there’s a senseless tragedy being reported. A drive-by shooting that kills a baby asleep in her crib. An 80-year-old woman gets raped. A toddler is abducted from a playground.
It would be easier to make sense of it all if there were no God. If the universe came from nothing then everything is a random occurrence and the search for meaning is ludicrous. But he knew in his heart that wasn’t the case. God was real. And yet he often seemed to be missing in action just when he was needed most. When it really mattered, God couldn’t be counted on.
He ran his fingers over the worn leather cover of the Bible. If he opened it
, it would be the first step toward trusting him again. And he knew what that meant. He was opening himself up to being disappointed again. To being let down. To being hurt.
“Ya gotta open it to find out what it says,” the old man said.
Max nodded. “I know. I’m getting there.” He stared at the book a moment longer and whispered, “Okay God, you have my attention. You know I’ve got more questions than answers and my doubts are stronger than my faith. But you have my attention. My marriage is in a bigger mess than a month ago. My wife cheated on me and is pregnant with another man’s child. And here I am in this jail cell for something you know I didn’t do.” Max paused. “Now what, God?”
He wasn’t sure where to start, so he just opened the book and read the first thing he saw. He knew that wasn’t the best Bible study method in the world, but when you’ve been away from God and you’re sitting in jail, there aren’t any rules.
He read the first words he saw. The tears came without warning.
Chapter 63
Willy’s condition was stable and the results of a second scan showed reduced swelling around his brain. The doctor said it might even be possible for him to go home in a couple days. Michelle was willing to stay another night, but Rose was insistent that Michelle go home and get some sleep. Crawling into her own bed sounded so good and she was also hungry for something other than hospital food.
It was only 5:15, but the sun was already beginning to set and God was painting the sky with every imaginable shade of yellow, orange, purple, pink and gold. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the lights in the parking lot begin to blink on one by one.
“If you think you’ll be okay, Rose, then I guess...” Michelle stopped in mid-sentence and lost her grip on her cup, spilling water everywhere.
“What is it, dear?” Rose said.
Michelle looked at Rose and began to shake.
“Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Michelle turned back to the window and looked again. The man she’d seen leaning against her car and watching her in the window was gone.
Chapter 64
Through his tears, Max read the words again.
“The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss.”
He wiped his eyes and continued.
“Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.”
The last time he’d shed any real tears was at Sarah’s memorial service. He’d cried a lot that day. First, tears of sadness. Then of anger. Then of rage.
He read the words again. And then again. And again. It was as if they were written just for him. They described his life of the last three years. And his life at this moment. And the very thoughts he’d been wrestling with all afternoon.
He suffered. He felt homeless without Sarah and without Michelle. He would never forget these past three years and the loss he suffered. And yet…
Yet. He thought about that little three-letter word. Yet. Jeremiah, the prophet who’d written the words he’d just read, had suffered. He had grieved. He had experienced bitterness. Yet.
“Yet I still dare to hope…”
Words written over two thousand years ago felt like they were written for this very moment, in this jail cell, in Bentonville, Arkansas.
“The faithful love of the Lord never ends.”
Not even when he hated God for letting Sarah die.
“His mercies never cease.”
Not even when he doubted.
“Great is his faithfulness…”
Even now.
“…His mercies begin afresh each morning.”
Not some mornings, but each morning.
While Max continued pouring over the same words again and again, the guard brought three trays of food. Dinner was a dry looking hamburger, under-cooked french fries, lukewarm green beans, a broken cookie and a cup of pink lemonade. He ate while continuing to read the same passage. It might have been jail food, but it was one of the best meals he’d ever had, especially for his soul.
At 10:00 sharp, it was lights out. Max closed the Bible and laid his head down. He’d read the passage so many times, he had it memorized. He’d heard nothing from Michelle or Willy or an attorney. But he didn’t feel alone or abandoned. As he drifted off to sleep, the words played over and over in his mind.
The faithful love of the Lord never ends. The faithful love of the Lord never ends. The faithful love of the Lord never ends.
His newly rekindled faith was about to be tested though.
Chapter 65
Michelle’s legs felt weak and her heart was pounding. She sat down while Rose cleaned up the spilled water.
“Are you okay, dear?” Rose asked.
Michelle looked outside. Other than a couple women in scrubs, the parking lot was empty. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. “I’m sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to scare you. I think I’m just tired. The lights, the shadows in the parking lot…I don’t know. I thought I saw someone.”
“Who, dear?”
“Don’t worry, Rose, it was no one,” Michelle said. “But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay here another night.”
Chapter 66
Monday, November 4
On Monday morning, a guard came to Max’s cell, unlocked the door and said, “Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, Max was walking out the door with his lawyer. “Your wife called me last night and explained your case,” Tom Murphy said. “I met with the judge first thing this morning. He agreed it’s a flimsy case even though his grandson plays outside linebacker for Bentonville. We’ll have the whole thing tossed by Wednesday.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Max said.
“Yeah, no problem,” Murphy said. “Here’s my card. Just pay the bill when it comes. You’d be surprised at how many people try to stiff me. Seriously. Do they think I won’t take them to court?”
Max shook Murphy’s hand and they went their separate ways. Separate ways meant Murphy got into a brand-new Mercedes and Max stood on the sidewalk watching him drive away. At least he’d found his own lawyer.
He felt impossibly behind on getting his team ready to face Conway in the first-round playoff game in just four days. He assumed his assistants were on top of it. Then he realized he could very well be out of a job or maybe placed on leave until the situation played out legally. Bob Burns surely wasn’t going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He made a mental list of phone calls to make: Bob Burns, his offensive and defensive coordinators, Willy and of course, Michelle. He didn’t have his truck, so he needed a ride. As much as he wanted to see Michelle, he felt better about talking to Willy first.
He walked down the street to what was becoming his regular coffee shop and placed a call to Willy. It rang a number of times then went to voicemail. He left a message and asked Willy to come pick him up and said he’d be waiting in the coffee shop.
Next, he called his assistants. They were surprised to hear what happened, but both said the coach’s meeting on Sunday went well and they all felt good about the Conway game.
Then he called Bob Burns. The call he dreaded making. Surely, he’d know about the arrest. Chances were good he’d already met with the superintendent and had him suspended. Bob’s assistant answered and after a minute put the call through. What he heard Bob say took him completely by surprise.
Chapter 67
Michelle woke up with another stiff neck. Sleeping in the chair a third night wouldn’t be happening. Of course, she was glad they let her stay. Technically, only family was allowed to stay the night. Rose was able to get an exception by saying Michelle was “like a daughter.” Fortunately, the charge nurse was lenient.
She tried to put it out of her mind, but she kept seeing him leaning against her car looking up at her. It was possible she hadn�
��t really seen anyone. It was dark. The lights were bad. She was tired. Her eyes were playing tricks.
At 9:20, she tried to call Max, but got his voicemail. She reached a lawyer the night before who said he’d handle Max’s case. She told him what little she knew and he had made it sound like it wouldn’t be any problem at all. She couldn’t remember if the lawyer said he was a good friend with the prosecutor or the judge. Either way, Michelle was happy to have someone working on getting him out of jail. She left a message for Max to call her as soon as possible. She needed to tell him about Willy.
As Michelle finished her message to Max, Rose returned from the lobby with two cups of coffee. “I thought we could both use some,” she said. Rose sat down next to Willy’s bed and took his hand in hers. It’s where she’d been almost every waking minute since Willy had been admitted. “His bruise looks a little better today,” she said.