by David Allen
Scott stood unsure. “Do you really think that there was foul play involved?” he stammered. “I mean, it’s like he’s going to confront Owen, and then the next day he dies.”
John stood slowly from his chair. “Scott, all we know is what we read. I didn’t have the opportunity to read this journal until five years after Matthew’s death. It was in a box of things I found in Matthew’s truck after the accident.”
John picked up the green journal and turned it over. “Your Aunt Tiffany was in such grief that she couldn’t handle dealing with any of Matthew’s things then. I offered to rent a storage unit for my brother’s personal belongings until she was able to go through them.” He set the book on the table. “Two months later, Ruth and I received my assignment to be a chaplain here in Guam.
“Now just a couple of months ago, we went on leave back to Alaska. The storage unit had never been opened, and Tiffany told me that I could have or get rid of Matthew’s things because it was too painful for her.” John paused. “When I was in Alaska, it seemed like there was a lot going on under the surface. Things seemed very artificial between us and your family. All I’m saying is it seemed like they didn’t want us too close, because they didn’t want us to know something. But anyway, I decided to go through Matthew’s things since no one else would. I found this journal.” John reached down to the table and touched the book. “I brought it back with me to read. I felt strangely drawn to it for some reason. I left almost everything else in the storage unit.” He stopped and turned to Scott. “I just finished reading Matthew’s journal about a week before you arrived here, so it’s new to me, too. Do not assume anything when you get back to Alaska.” John shook his head. “Just be aware of the people you’re dealing with, and how much you can trust them, and I would say to be careful with what you say around Owen.
Scott nodded. “You know the pastor that Matthew talked about in his journal? Tim?”
John looked up. “Yes, I do. He’s the one who encouraged me to become a chaplain.”
“Well I know him,” Scott sat on a chair, “I’m going to call him tomorrow and let him know I’m coming home.” He looked up at his uncle. “You know, he’s the reason I came to the Marshall Islands. He was the one who helped me get in contact with the mission out there.”
“I think that’s a really good idea for you to get in contact with him.” John nodded enthusiastically. “I think he’s a very level-headed guy who’d be good for you to work with.”
“I think he won’t be happy that I’m coming back, though” Scott shook his head. “The reason I came out here to the islands was so that I could get away from the influences that hindered my growth at home. Subconsciously, I couldn’t break away from some of the things that were holding me back there, so I needed to leave. Tim really influenced that.” He raked his hand through his hair. “And you’re right. Something is going on between Tiffany and Owen. Mom told me that they were having some major difficulties in their marriage.”
John nodded. “I knew there was something going on, even though I didn’t know what. Scott, I want you to hear what I’m saying. Tread lightly and don’t rock the boat when you get back. You do not want to make any inflammatory statements, and that’s for your own good and also your family’s. I would not trust Owen. You understand me?”
Scott nodded, “I understand.”
*****
The next Saturday morning, after breakfast with his uncle and aunt, Scott asked if he could use the phone to make some calls.
“Go right ahead,” John said. “But Ruth and I are going to a program at our church this morning, and you’re invited to come if you’d like.”
“Does Laura, I mean Charles, go to the same church as you?” Scott asked.
John nodded. “Yes.”
“I think I’ll just stay home then, and call back to Alaska, and relax.” Scott pulled at his gray sweatpants, “I don’t really feel like being around Laura right now.”
John nodded. “That’s fine, Ruth and I often invite people home for lunch so just be aware. We’ll probably be back here around one.”
Ruth walked into the room, heels clicking. She smelled of hairspray and perfume. “Can you do me a big favor Scott? There’s a casserole in the oven on 350, and it should be done by 12:15. Could you take it out of the oven for me, since you’re staying?” Ruth was now readjusting her hair in the mirror by the door. “I’d appreciate it, so we don’t have to hurry home as soon as the program lets out.”
Scott glanced at the clock. Only nine-thirty. “Sure, I can do that.”
A minute later, John and Ruth bustled out the door, John busily tying his tie, while Ruth was talking to him about the program at church. “And we have to set up the microphone before…” The door closed behind them, a little wave of tropical air swooshing through the house.
“Ahh.” Scott sat down on the couch and sighed. Finally peace. He could still faintly smell his aunt’s hairspray as it settled in the air. “So I need to call home.” He tapped his hand on the couch cushion, mentally preparing himself. He started to rise, but then sat back down. Alaska was a much different time zone, and his parents liked to sleep in on Saturdays. It was better to wait a little while. “I sure wish I knew what the time there is.” He settled back in the couch. “Oh well.” A soft beam of sunshine shone through the window and splattered lazily across the couch. It was pleasantly cool inside, and the warm sun felt good. This couch makes me sleepy. He sat back heavily. I guess I’ll just rest for a minute, he thought drowsily. A minute later he was asleep.
Scott dreamed that a forklift was backing up toward him and its beeping was getting louder as it neared. The exhaust smelled smoky and a little bit like casserole… Casserole! Scott was instantly awake. He turned on the couch and stared blurrily into the kitchen. The smoke detector above the oven was beeping and a haze of blue smoke rose from the sides of the oven.
“Shoot,” Scott muttered. He rolled off the couch, pillows landing on the floor with him. “Aunt Ruth’s casserole.” Scott staggered around the side of the couch. He reached the stove a second later and frantically jerked at the smoke detector. It popped loose from its place in the ceiling, now hanging from its wires, still beeping. “I got to get a chair so I can get the battery out of the stupid thing.” Scott muttered. He was dragging a stool from the bar when Scott realized the oven was still on. He left the stool in the middle of the kitchen and began to frantically fl ip the dials on the stove. Hot smoke curled up around Scott.
“I have an enchilada casserole in the oven. It’s one of John’s favorites. My mother used to make the same recipe every Saturday…” Ruth was cut off mid-sentence as she opened the door. She stood staring at a scene she had not expected.
Scott was still in his gray sweat pants and orange T-shirt from breakfast. He dragged a stool across the kitchen floor, smoke around him, almost hitting his head on the smoke detector, which now hung precariously from the ceiling. His hair was pancaked sideways, fl at on one side from where he had slept, and bushy on the other. He was now frantically flipping dials on the stove.
“What in the world?” John was halfway across the floor to the kitchen when he tripped over one of the couch cushions that had fallen to the floor. He fell, catching himself on the back of the couch with a sudden skidding slide. He was up and into the kitchen two seconds later.
Ruth, and her guests stood in the door, mouths agape, frozen for a second, then Ruth was skittering across the floor in her heels, and Charles hurried to help John carry the smoking casserole outside.
Laura hid a sudden urge to laugh in a discrete cough. She stood by her sister-in-law while the hubbub subsided.
“I’m so sorry,” Scott was saying. He looked mortified. “I fell asleep on the couch, and overslept! I didn’t realize how much time had gone by…”
John stood for a second, still holding the oven mitts. Suddenly he threw back his head and gave out a loud belly laugh. “I’ve always told Ruth that couch was a death sentence for studyi
ng. I swear, I sleep better on that couch than I do in my own bed.”
Everyone was silent for a second. Laura coughed once, then everyone was laughing. John leaned against the bar for support. He threw his arm affably around Scott.
“Don’t worry about it, Scott, we’ll throw together some hamburgers for lunch.”
Ruth was laughing and she hugged Scott.
“I’ll just excuse myself so I can get better clothes on,” Scott said sheepishly. He retreated into the hall, with everyone still laughing.
“Come on into the kitchen, Grace, I’ll need some help,” Ruth said, still laughing.
Scott caught Laura’s eye for one second, then looked quickly away, as he turned and hurried down the hall. It had twinkled ever so slightly, but probably because she was laughing at him, he figured. He closed the door behind him, and stood leaning on the door. “What do I do now?” He cupped his face in his hands. “Errh…”
A knock sounded at the door a minute later. Scott was still leaning against the door. He stepped back to allow his uncle to enter.
“Scott, don’t feel bad. It really is okay.” John patted Scott on the shoulder. “I know you didn’t mean to. It was a
mistake.”
“I know, I know.” Scott put his face in his hands. “It’s just Laura’s here and everything.” He stopped. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to complain.”
John patted Scott again. “Change and come out so you can be with everyone.” He disappeared out the door.
*****
During dinner, everyone was talking, and Scott and Laura were sitting on roughly opposite ends of the table. He had planned it that way, making sure to sit down after Laura. John and Charles kept up a lively conversation, telling stories about awkward situations that kept everyone laughing. Scott was glad that he didn’t have to say much, and he knew his uncle was telling stories to make him feel better.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He was feeling better, and the burgers really were good.
“Please pass the iced tea.” Laura smiled sweetly at Scott from across the table.
He reached out, gripping the pitcher, looked blankly at Laura, then with a shove of his arm, he sent the pitcher sliding across the smooth table. Scott hadn’t meant to shove it so hard. Laura reached out to try to stop it, but she was too late. The pitcher hit Laura’s plate with a clunk and ice cubes and tea splashed and gurgled all over Laura. She gasped as the cold liquid hit her, reaching out and catching the pitcher in both hands.
Ruth was up instantly, wiping Laura with a napkin, while Scott apologized, feeling the blood burn in his cheeks.
“Looks like today isn’t your day, Scott.” Grace tried to loosen things up. “That’s not so bad though, I remember a time I accidentally spilled a whole pitcher of punch on Charles when we were driving to church.”
Everyone gasped. Charles threw back his head with a dry laugh,
“Oh yes, I was wearing my favorite Wemble tie, too. It wasn’t the color of the punch.” He winked at Scott. “Along with running late, and being the platform chairman, it made for quite an ordeal.”
Everyone laughed. That is, everyone besides Scott. He was too embarrassed to manage more then a feeble cough…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The phone rang, seeming to lag and echo.
“Hello, Ebi Mission. Can I help you?” said a native teacher Scott recognized.
“Hi, this is Scott. Is there any way I could talk with Jerry?”
The person on the other end paused. “Oh, hi Scott. I’ll tell you what. If you can call back in fifteen minutes, I’ll see if I can find him for you, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll call back.” Scott hung up the phone and sat heavily on a stool. He knew the drill there on Ebi. There was only one phone at the mission. It often took a long wait or an appointment reach any of the staff.
Scott sat back. He felt relieved now. Charles, Grace and Laura had all left, and after the late lunch, his aunt and uncle were now taking a nap. Scott waited for 15 minutes, then picked up the phone and dialed the Marshall Islands country code, then the number. After a few seconds, it began to ring.
“Hello, Ebi Mission. Can I help you?” the same native answered again.
“Yes. This is Scott. Did you find Jerry?”
“He’s right here waiting, here he is.”
Scott heard the phone being handed away.
“Hey Scott, how you doing?” Jerry’s familiar voice drew Scott back to the islands.
He blinked and held the phone to his ear. “I’m doing all right.”
“Well, if you had called any later, you would have missed me. Abra and us guys were just getting ready to go out in his boat when they found me.”
Scott smiled at the memory. The Saturday afternoon boat rides, and evening worship on the beach with coconut husk fires.
“How’s your foot healing up?” Jerry’s voice brought Scott back to the moment.
“Oh great, it’s healing great. No infection, and if I’m careful I won’t need to even wear a bandage in a couple of days.” Scott decided not to tell Jerry about how he had reopened it. Not yet, at least.
“We miss you here, Scott.” Jerry sounded sincere. “It’s not the same without you, especially for me.”
“I know.” Scott gulped, “I don’t know why God had me leave yet, but I know there’s a reason. I’ll never forget the memories I have from there, though.”
“That sounds like quite an attitude change,” Jerry observed. “You were pretty upset when you left.”
Scott adjusted the phone. “I still am sad, but there’s nothing I can change by being angry with God, I just have to accept what happened and go forward. I know God had my best interest in mind, looking back now, even if I didn’t believe it then.”
“Hmm,” Jerry said. “I’ve never heard you talk like that.”
Scott shifted uneasily. “I haven’t told anyone this before Jerry.” He paused. “I had a dream when I was in the hospital, and it made quite an impact on me.”
“When you where delirious and they gave you the antibiotic?” Jerry asked.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure it must have been some time then, though I don’t know exactly. That whole time is pretty fuzzy to me.”
“You sure were carrying on a racket a few times. You kept the nurse and me busy, kicking your blankets off.”
“Well, this is what I dreamed.” Scott related the dream of the two roads and the tall teacher who he was sure was Satan. “Ever since that dream, I know God has a direction for me, and that this all happened for a reason.”
The friends talked for several more minutes about how the mission was doing, Scott going to the doctor, and about Laura.
“I think she must hate me,” Scott finished. “It’s so weird.”
“That’s amazing,” Jerry said. “I mean, you met her on the plane and everything.”
Scott lifted his eyebrows as he talked. “And it wasn’t like I was emotionally ready to meet her then, if you can imagine.” He laughed, “I’m amazed that I didn’t freak her out on the airplane.”
The two friends reminisced, stalling the goodbye they both knew would come. Scott cleared his throat. “I’m getting ready to go back home to Alaska now, Jerry. I’m going to call my parents to get my tickets after I hang up with you.” He paused. “I’m a little apprehensive.” After a few more minutes of talking, Scott said goodbye. “Good to talk to you, Jerry, I’m really thankful for all you did for me.”…