by David Allen
“Intense stuff,” he said. “It’s hard to change sometimes.”
Laura nodded. “Why don’t we read some more of the journal?”
“Okay.” Scott reached over and leafed through the pages. “This is where I stopped. I read all the way up to January 1988, it looks like.”
“Aw, I’m missing Christmas?” Laura pretended to pout.
“He actually didn’t talk too much about Christmas, more about worrying about work, and learning about God and how to be trusted and stuff like that.”
“I’m joking.” Laura gave Scott a mischievous look. “I can go over and read it later. Do you want me to read?”
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
Laura began. “January 4, 1988. My wife scares me right now. She’s been reading some new self-help books she got from her brother. She tells me they really focus on expressing yourself and how every feeling we have as humans is good. She even went so far as to tell me yesterday that people can tap into the universe and become like God, and there really isn’t a right and wrong, strictly speaking. We’ve been clashing a lot about that. Whenever I read something from the Bible, she gets angry at me. Our views are really clashing, but yet I can’t tell her that she’s wrong. Maybe I’m in the wrong. I don’t know…”
“Hmm...” Scott fiddled with a plastic fork. “It sounds like he was having a few marital issues.” He remembered that things had seemed a little bit strained those last few months, Matthew had been tight-lipped and very focused on work, and had not been near as jovial as he had before. He hadn’t said much to Scott other than that he had a few ‘Personal issues’ he needed to work out with Aunt Tiff.
“You ready for the next one?” Laura looked at Scott questioningly.
“Sure.” Scott nodded.
“January 29, 1988. I hired a new foreman today. His name’s Owen, an old friend of Robert. He say’s he’s really dependable. I think this is a good move, because now I won’t have to spend so much time managing and doing paper work and I can spend more time doing the things I’m good at and working on my marriage. Thank you, God, for that!
“My nephew, Scott, is working with me part-time after school. He can actually accomplish more in four hours after school than some of my guys can working all day. I think when he’s out of school I’ll give him a supervisor position, if he still wants to work for me. My only worry is that he’s too young and they won’t listen to him. He is pretty cocky, too, but we’re working on that. I’ve been telling him about having integrity and following Christ, and he seems to be listening. Sometimes I just don’t know. I’m giving advice and people are listening to me now, but inside my own marriage things are out of control. I don’t know how to deal with my wife when she’s so furious about me studying the Bible with Tim, and trying to undermine and prove everything I believe in is wrong. I don’t know if I have the right to give Scott advice. God please help my marriage.—
“February 16, 1988. I feel really uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just being overly sensitive and overreacting. — I’m writing so I can figure it out. –Today I invited my foreman over for dinner with my wife and me. He’s really been helping me get things under control at work, so I wanted to introduce him to me and my wife a little bit more — but this is what happened. After dinner when we were eating dessert, we started talking about God, and he told me he was really big into the New Age movement and that I was off base — he told me that kindly, of course, because I’m his boss, but my wife picked up on that right away and just began to tear
into me. I felt so humiliated. She sided with him and was really friendly to him and treated me like dirt. Maybe I’m overreacting. I need to think, but God, I’m feeling this really strongly. Please help me see the truth—”
Laura shook her head as the reading ended. “That’s awful,” she muttered. “When I see married people trash each other in front of other people, I think it’s about the most hurtful thing.”
“Definitely doesn’t have the three legs of trust.” Scott chimed in.
“You’ve been picking up on that, haven’t you?” Laura laughed. “Of course I’m trying to be impartial here. There’s two sides to every story.”
Scott nodded. “I never got along with Owen anyways, though, and you know she’s married to that foreman now.”
“No way.” Laura gasped.
“Yep.” Scott nodded. “Just three weeks after Matthew’s accident, she married him.”
“That’s so wrong,” Laura fumed.
“Lets keep reading.”
There where several more entries about work and the continuing drama with Matthew’s wife. He also talked about studying with Tim, how frustrated he was with how stubborn all his relatives were about accepting Christ, and how Scott seemed to be the only one who would listen.
“June 17, 1988 – Summer is in full swing now and the building season here in Alaska is quickening. The demand is great because everyone and their brother is trying to get things framed and roofed before winter. It seems word of mouth over the winter has spread that I’m a good contractor, and I’m having to turn down work now. When the big crash happened a few years ago, a lot of the construction workers left and now there’s more than enough work for us who are here. Scott’s working for me now. He’s out of
school and I have him supervising two other young summer helpers I just hired. He’s doing great, and making a pile of money. I let him have several fun, easy jobs, because I have so many to choose from and I like helping him out. It feels good to help someone else become successful. Payroll is coming up, I don’t have much time to write now. I need to go talk with Owen.
“June 22, 1988. I’m worried right now. Owen, my foreman, has been doing most of the paperwork for me, because I hate it so much. I’m not that good with numbers anyways, but it seems like things aren’t quite right with the end of the month report he just gave me. He just bought a brand new truck, too. Maybe I’m being paranoid. He gave some big expense reports for building materials on several jobs, and I asked Scott and he doesn’t think materials could have been more then $7,000 on this new garage he built for a client, but Owen put down $13,000 and has receipts to prove it. He bought twice as much lumber as we needed, and
no one seems to know where it went. Scott told me that one of his guys overheard that Owen is friends with a guy who’s remodeling a house in Anchorage and that he overheard him say that “he had some extra materials he could give him for a good discount.” But it’s just too hard to say.
“And what’s extra hard is that Owen is on really good standing with my brother-in-law since they are high school buddies, and it would be a very political thing for me if I confronted him about it. I just need to not get paranoid and just make sure I’m not jumping to conclusions.”
“I remember that.” Scott nodded. “I thought Owen was a snake and I’m still of the same opinion.”
“Do you think he really stole that lumber?” Laura asked.
“I can’t say, but it sure disappeared into thin air.” Scott shrugged.
Laura continued reading. “July 2, 1988. I’m getting really upset with my foreman and I think he knows it. He doesn’t seem to be worried about it, though. He’s been late for work several times, too. Yesterday, I needed a nail gun I had left in my garage, and he said he would stop and grab it while he swung by the hardware store. He didn’t get back for two hours, and then he left for the hardware store! When I got home, my wife seemed very distant and when I asked her if he had stopped by, she got really defensive and angry. I stopped, not wanting to go any further, but I’m worried… I wish I could fi re him and hire Scott to be my foreman. He may not have as much experience, but at least I can trust him!
“July 4,1988. Today we had a family picnic, the whole works: watermelon, hotdogs, baked beans, potato chips. Unknown to me, my brother-in-law invited Owen, my foreman. I of course had to play along, not showing that I hadn’t wanted him to come. My brother-in-law was talking with him like he owned the company. It makes me w
onder just how close Robert and Owen are to each other?! I felt very put out, like they are in a small gang together and they both don’t like me... I’m very frustrated with how things are going. I don’t know how I got into this mess. It’s making me jumpy. I need to confront my foreman about the money that keeps disappearing, but I think I’ll wait until I’ve given him enough rope to hang himself.
“July 27, 1988. I have a horrible reality. I almost don’t want to think about it! I think my foreman is having an affair with my wife. She denies it, saying he’s only a friend, but things have never been so strained between me and her. I am Just trying to keep my head in my work, and praying hard. I talked with Tim about my fears for the first time yesterday. He seemed very worried. He says he’ll pray hard, and he believes I need to confront Owen about it. I told him I was going to wait until I had grounds to fi re him, and there was no way he could deny it. He’s really foxy, he can talk his way out of anything and I am too straightforward to have a battle of wits with him. I think he knows the position I’m in with my wife and her brother, so he’s been very arrogant. Almost challenging to me.
“August 10, 1988. I’m going to challenge Owen tomorrow. I think I finally have enough evidence that he can’t deny it. I need your help so much, God. My company is working on framing the roof on a four-story apartment building. I will have to inspect the site with Owen after the work is done, and I believe that will be a good time to confront him. I am sure almost $10,000 worth of materials are missing from the job site, so I’ll bring my receipt ledger which he gave me. I’ll ask him where the material is, then I will confront him about the other materials and fire him if he cannot show me positively within a short period of time where all of it is.
“I sent Scott to work on a different job, not wanting him to be around when this all goes down. I love my family and I love God, I just want everything to work out for good…”
The journal ended. Laura flipped pages, but they were all empty. “What happened? Why did it end?”
Scott cleared his throat. “That was my uncle’s last journal entry because he…” Scott’s faced flashed—all the pieces were coming together. “...before he died.” Scott suddenly shot up from his chair. “The foreman must have murdered Matthew!” He yelled it, and then sat back down in the chair, pulse racing. Could it be true?
“I always suspected something was up between Aunt Tiff and Owen, but I never had thought…” Scott’s voice broke. “… that my uncle had died of anything other than an accident.”
Laura looked confused at Scott’s sudden outburst. “I don’t understand.”
Scott’s face was set in a hard line. “The official accident report was that Matthew was knocked of the roof by a sliding piece of plywood, and that a skill saw slid off with him and fell and hit him across his forehead. He died from the impact along with massive bleeding.”
Scott flashed back. He could remember that day like it was happening now. He had no idea of what he now knew, only that his uncle had a few marital issues — didn’t everyone? — and that perhaps the foreman was a little dishonest, though he always got the job done. Matthew had seemed very quiet and focused on work, but Scott had just figured that it was from the stress of managing three different construction sites.
He had been framing with one other guy at another job site that August 11th when his dad drove up in his truck. Tight-lipped, and white-knuckled.
“Get in the car son,” he had ordered.
A horrible accident had happened, Uncle Matthew was in the hospital, and no one knew if he’d live. Scott remembered being in the ER room, seeing his aunt sobbing and his mom trying to comfort her, and then being told that his uncle was dead. It had been the worst day of Scott’s life.
“Scott, why don’t we go for a walk?” Laura gently touched Scott on the arm. “Let’s walk down the beach and talk about it.”
He stood and followed Laura shakily down toward the blue-green water, clutching the journal in his hand.
Laura asked him to tell her, so he did. He told her how he had been told of his uncle’s death, and then how the foreman had taken over the business. Owen had married Tiff within three weeks of Matthew’s death and, of course, Scott’s dad had thought it was a good idea.
When Scott heard the announcement that Owen was going to marry Tiff, he had resigned from working at the company.
“That’s when I started my own handyman business. Several of the guys resigned with me right then, too.”
The waves where washing up around their feet.
“So how did you get out here to the islands?” Laura looked up at Scott, her big brown eyes softening.
“After I started my own company, my aunt gave me a whole bunch of New Age books, and told me they were Matthew’s and that he would have wanted me to have them. I couldn’t believe it, though. All the books seemed brand new. I started reading them, though.” Scott shuddered and shook his head. “Bad idea. When I started believing what those books said, and turning away from God, my life went from bad to worse. I was in a very dark, depressed place.” He looked away. “I don’t really like to
talk about it.” He cleared his throat, “Anyways, after a while, Timothy, the pastor Matthew wrote about in his journal, contacted me. Long story short, I started studying the Bible with him, and then I found out about a mission in the Marshall Islands that needed teachers. Things were bad at home, and I wanted to go somewhere where I could grow and get away from all the old influences, so I came. And you know the rest of the story.”
The two walked side-by-side. Laura’s hand brushed lightly against Scott’s.
“I’m dreading going back worse than anything now.” Scott was looking down. “Especially now that I suspect there may have been some foul play. I don’t know if I can face Owen.” He kicked at the sand. “I need to talk to John. He knows more about it than me,” Scott reasoned with himself. “Why don’t we walk up to that market? I need to get my mind off of this.”
“Okay” Laura turned with Scott and led the way up to a fish market.
*****
“I want to go snorkeling while I’m here, to get my mind off of Matthew.” Scott looked at a colorful calendar of Guam that had vivid depictions of vibrant reefs. “My Uncle John has gear, and he’ll let us borrow it. You want to go?”
“Sure,” Laura responded. “But where should we? This is my first time to Guam.”
“We need to find a local who can tell us. How about that place right there? Paradise Snorkeling?” He pointed to a small wooden hut decked with pictures of colorful fish. A dark native man sat inside. “He’ll know.”
Scott walked up to the stand. “Excuse me, but do you know where the good beach snorkeling is around here?”
The man brightened behind the counter. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll tell you, but I must warn you I’m partial to my charter!” He laughed. “I love the reef, though, and I would love to tell you where the good stuff is.” He paused and looked to Laura. “What are you guys looking for?”
“What type of places are there?” Laura asked.
“Well one easy favorite is a place called the ‘Graveyard,’” the native explained. “No, no it isn’t a bad place, but there’s
a whole bunch of tanks from World War II that sank there. He laughed again. “Not dangerous. People love it, because a reef is growing there, and there’s lots of pretty fish.” He looked at Laura and Scott. “Let me give you a map of several good spots and also our charter prices.” He handed Scott a paper. “We’re having a trip to the Graveyard tomorrow. We leave here at noon and it’s $20 a person.”
“Thank you, We’ll talk it over.” Scott shook the man’s hand, then turned and walked down the street with Laura. “I don’t want to go with a charter.” Scott read the pamphlet carefully. “It says here it’s accessible from the beach. Why don’t we leave real early tomorrow and beat the rush?”
After a little bit more planning, Laura agreed. “Well do it tomorrow then, bright and early.”
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CHAPTER NINE
Scott was up early, even before John. All night Scott had been waking to check the time, glancing at the iridescent numbers on the clock next to the bed. The night couldn’t have passed slower, because today was the day that Laura and he where going to Nimitz Beach.