The Man He Never Was

by James L. Rubart

  “God is the ruler of angel armies so majestic you’ll faint at the sight and sound of them, and at the same moment he is the Daddy who longs for you to crawl up onto his lap and bury your face in his chest forever and a day.

  “According to the Scriptures, he’s a Father and fortress, a rock and a lamb, an eagle and a shield and a hen and a mother with her child and a thousand other things. And he’s everywhere. Throughout every galaxy, even those that the most powerful telescope on earth can’t show us. He is in every atom, every quark. All at the same time.” Eden winked. “He’s never had a problem with the finite like humans do.”

  “God is Spirit.”

  “And not limited by a body, correct?” Eden tilted her head.

  “Yes.”

  “Nor restricted by our feeble attempts to define him.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Do not fear, Toren. How many times will you need to hear that perfect love casts out fear? All fear. And he is love. And he is perfect.”

  “Two thousand four hundred ninety-five more times and I think I might be good.”

  She laughed and stood up. “I think you will be delighted. And, yes, maybe terrified. I don’t know. But don’t worry. I believe in your ability to step into love, and once again—we cannot hear it too often—love, pure, true love, casts out all fear. Only two thousand four hundred ninety-four more times to go.”

  Toren had become enamored with Eden. And even though he’d already asked once, he stood with her and asked again, “You won’t stay?”

  “As I said, this must be a solo trip.” Eden pointed at the door. “I’ll be out there when you’re ready to rejoin me.”

  Eden walked backward into the octagon and pulled the door shut. Toren turned to look out the windows, and immediately a kaleidoscope of colors streaked through the windows in front of him and exhilaration shot through him. The room filled with a hint of jasmine.

  After a few more seconds, the abundant light from the windows seemed to grow in brightness. And it didn’t stop. After half a minute, the light was already almost too bright for Toren to look at. Thirty seconds more and the brightest spotlight he’d ever seen was like a dying bulb on a two-inch flashlight compared to the light that now surrounded him.

  Soon the light was too bright for him to keep his eyes open. He squeezed them shut and covered his eyes with his hand. He took a faltering step toward where he pictured the chairs to be, to grab hold, to steady himself. Still the light increased. The light was now blinding even through his hand and closed eyes. More than blinding. It tore through him, and for a moment he thought the light would rip him apart, but a second later it seemed to be seeping into every molecule of his body. In his mind’s eye he saw a microscopic world where each atom that made up his body was now buried in the light, and then the light became waves of indescribable joy that washed through him like an ocean. A second later the light became a million tiny particles, like phosphorescence in the sea, chasing each other around the nuclei of his atoms.

  As he watched in his mind’s eye, the particles of light grew larger. Now they were the size of grains of sand, now pebbles, now stones, now footballs—ha!—footballs, of course! His body couldn’t contain this part of the light, so it exploded out of him, then raced around him in ever-widening circles till it reached to the edges of the room.

  But there was no less light in him than when the light had started its dance, because the light came from within him and its source was never ending. He sensed he was spinning and twirling in a kind of dance, and as he did, either the light dimmed or his sight adjusted to the brilliance. But it was not the light that utterly astonished him. It was the love, because the light was love, and the light was his Father, his Abba, his Daddy, in all his radiant glory. Joy poured out of him in great swirls of laughter as he found it impossible to feel any worry about Sloane, or Callie, or Colton. Impossible to feel sorrow or fear about the future. There was no future. No past. Only now, and the ocean of love in which he swam.

  A few minutes later, the dance ended and his feet came to rest. Toren opened his eyes and looked around and was surprised to see his feet on the floor of the room. Had he been floating?

  Cascading swirls of light still danced in the center of the room, shooting out then gathering again. The Presence of the light was still so strong that Toren closed his eyes again and sank to his knees and bowed his head in total surrender. There were no words to express the emotions rising out of him, so he didn’t try to speak. He remained on his knees and worshipped, and without warning, sleep stole over him.

  When he woke, twilight had seeped into the sky outside the window, and the last moments of a red-tinged sunset were sinking beyond the mountains to the west. He rose and wandered out of the room.

  “How was your time, Toren?” Eden sat at the table in the center of the octagon, her eyes expectant.

  “You stayed.” He glanced at his watch. “I was in there for almost three hours.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was that real?” He ambled over to the table.

  “I’m guessing you had a chance to see some of the unseen that the apostle Paul tells us to focus our lives on.”

  “That might be one way to describe it. Did you know that was going to happen to me?”

  “No, because I don’t know what happened to you.” She motioned to the chair on the other side of the table. “Would you like to tell me?”

  Toren’s encounter spilled out of him, and he relived it as he told Eden the story, and the love he’d experienced washed over him again with almost as much force as when it first happened. Eden’s eyes were tender and thrilled and amazed as Toren told of how the Light had surged through him with power and tenderness unlike anything he’d ever known.

  She nodded and smiled but said nothing, even after he’d finished.

  “I’ve never felt his love like that before. Never.”

  “You can have this every day, you know. Not just here in the octagon, but back there, in your everyday world. You only need eyes to see.”

  “I believe that.”

  “It seems our Abba is quite delighted with you, Toren.” Eden smiled, and a soft giggle floated out of her mouth.

  “What’s next?”

  “I’ll see you here a week from today—if you choose to come back.”

  “You know I’ll be here.”

  “Good. Good.”

  “Want to give me a preview of what we’ll be doing?”

  He didn’t expect Eden to answer, but she didn’t hesitate.

  “We’ll be looking into why you have a temper that you cannot control.”

  “Okay.”

  “And you thought our first time together would not be much more than an introduction.”

  Eden strolled to the door he’d entered by and stood to the right of it.

  “We have accomplished a great deal today. Well done, Toren. I look forward to next time.”

  Eden opened the door and let it swing wide. Toren stopped when he stood in its frame and looked at Eden. She smiled, and in that smile Toren found more hope than he’d felt in ages.

  “Thank you, Eden.”

  She nodded, and he walked through to the landing at the top of the stairs.

  “Toren?”

  “Yes?”

  “One more thing.”

  “Sure.”

  “The last steps up a mountain like Everest are always the hardest.”

  “What are you saying? More than a few people have died on that mountain.”

  Eden nodded but didn’t speak.

  “What are you saying?” he repeated.

  “Many people turn back. They make a different choice at the end. Due to weather, due to their own will. Due to many things.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “You will have to choose.”

  “Choose what?”

  “There will be two mountains in your future. You will have to decide which mountain you want to climb the most.”

&nb
sp; CHAPTER 35

  As Toren approached his car, he spotted someone sitting on the trunk. No. Come on. Did God think this was funny? It couldn’t be. But another ten seconds confirmed his suspicion. Letto sat with elbows on knees, a crooked smile on his face, a finger pointed in Toren’s direction.

  “Hey! Toren,” Letto called out when Toren was still thirty yards away. “You have a few minutes to talk?”

  Toren slowed his gait and studied Letto. The man shifted on the trunk of Toren’s car, what looked like a hunting knife in his hand, cleaning his fingernails. A surge of anger stirred inside Toren.

  “What happened to us being finished? I thought you were done.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too. I tried, really I did. But it’s not going to work.”

  “I’ll help you make it work.” Toren strode to within five feet and stopped, then slowly pounded his fist into his palm.

  “Good, good, good, I appreciate that.” Letto whacked Toren’s trunk three times—far harder than was necessary—and said, “Have a seat. Let’s have a good ol’ talk, jus’ you and me.”

  Toren stood like stone.

  “Don’t want to get cozy, huh?” Letto glanced from his knife to Toren’s face, back to the knife, back to Toren. “What is it, Daniels?”

  “What is it going to take to convince you?” Toren locked his arms across his chest. “I have no desire to get physical with you, but if that’s what it takes to make you stay away, so be it.”

  “You like getting physical, don’t you? I’m just curious: Who would win if you and Sloane really went at it? Huh? Her with the black belt, you with the size and muscles.” Letto slid off the trunk and started bobbing and weaving. “Stick and move, baby, stick and move!”

  He laughed, then shuffled back to the car and leaned against the trunk.

  “Wonder who would win between you and me?” Letto pressed his teeth into his lower lip as he raised his eyebrows.

  “That I can answer for you right now.”

  “I might give you a shot someday.” Letto ran the blade along his jeans.

  “How ’bout right now?”

  “Someday is not now, brown cow.” Letto grinned and waved his hand in the direction Toren had come from. “What are you doing way up here in the islands? Long way from home.”

  “I’m starting to think there’s no other way for the message to sink in.”

  He wanted to intimidate Letto, not fight him. Not that he was scared. Not even close. The guy was at least four inches shorter and seventy pounds lighter, and all of Toren’s extra weight was muscle. But he respected the guy. He’d yet to meet a Special Ops guy—and Toren was convinced that’s what Letto had been—over six feet. And their shorter stature was always an asset. They had swiftness, agility. Their fighting skills were far different from what Toren needed to take down a running back out in the flat. And knives were way out of Toren’s league.

  Letto’s countenance shifted so quickly from a mocking, sarcastic scowl to abject misery that Toren blinked.

  “I’m hurting, Toren. Life’s gone crazy.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I get it.”

  “No, no, no. You’re not sorry. Not at all. You don’t come within light-years of getting it.”

  Letto slumped forward, his hands on his knees, his face drawn. For a few seconds, Toren felt sorry for him.

  “Where are you living these days, Letto?”

  “In the pit.” He looked up at Toren, a look of desperation in his eyes. “Dark, you know? Little trickles of brackish water always flowing toward me. Tough to breathe. I want to be free.”

  “I feel the same.”

  “Not like me. You have hope. Not me.” He sputtered as if to continue, then fell into silence, his eyes cast down.

  Toren didn’t respond. The pity he’d felt a few moments back had vanished.

  “I’m not stupid, Toren.” Letto poked himself in the chest and held his finger there. “I know there’s little chance we’ll be friends again, but if you’d let me—we could help each other out. I will help you through this valley. I will stick closer than a brother, to borrow a verse from Proverbs, and you’ll grow to appreciate me like no other.”

  Again Toren didn’t respond.

  Finally Letto shuffled off, and Toren watched him till he faded from sight. Then he got in his car and headed for the ferry. After he boarded, Toren snatched a cup of bad coffee from the cafeteria, went to the front of the ferry, sat, and stared at the vast expanse of water, trying not to think about Letto. He tried even harder not to think about Sloane. He refused to think all hope for them as a couple was gone. She was dating a guy. So what. She hadn’t said she loved him, had she? He rubbed his head. Yes, she had.

  He wanted to call her, had to call her. Connect. Do something. But there were three good reasons for him not to call. First, it was getting late, eight forty-five, and Sloane liked to take Saturday evenings easy, and his call would definitely not put her at ease. Second, the last time they’d spoken hadn’t been exactly tranquil, and third, she’d been ignoring his texts lately. What was he going to say if she picked up? Hey, how’s it going? I’m getting some kind of guru-like spiritual insight from the woman you hired to find me, but now I’m not even sure she’s a true PI, but I have deeper insight into my temper, and, uh, how are you? Still dating that guy? Do you mind if I punch him in the face if I lose it again?

  The pros of calling were just as clear. One, he was still in love with her. Even if all he got was her voicemail, hearing her speak was water to his parched life. Two, if they talked, there was a one in a googolplex chance she would agree to coffee. Three, same as number one. The cut of not having her in his life was deeper than any he’d ever known, and he was bleeding out.

  If he did call, it would hurt. If he didn’t call, it would hurt. Odds were, she wouldn’t pick up the phone. He’d have to leave a message. Right. No idea what to say in that scenario either. His excuse could be to warn her that Letto was still around, but he couldn’t see her being concerned about that.

  He wandered back to his car, not wanting to be in public. Less than a minute after he settled in, his cell phone vibrated. Unbelievable. It was Sloane. His heart rate shifted into a higher gear as he answered.

  CHAPTER 36

  “Hey, Sloane.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t responded to you. I’ve been busy.”

  “I see.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Nothing, I just—”

  “Nothing? Good.” She sighed. “Neither do I, which means there’s no reason to be having this conversation.”

  An idea flashed into Toren’s mind. “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “Do you remember us talking about building some birdhouses for out back? Long time ago. A couple of years before I disappeared.”

  “What about them?”

  “Let me come over tomorrow and build them for you,” Toren said. “I won’t even come inside. The kids will love them. So will you.” He paused. “I think.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Maybe the kids could help me.”

  “We’ll see. I have tentative plans.”

  “Leave the kids with me. And maybe you and I can talk for a while when I’m there.”

  The phone went silent for ten seconds. “Maybe. And, Toren, of course you can come inside.”

  Sloane’s voice was more tender than he’d heard it since his return. It was true. Hope did spring eternal, because it was exploding inside him right now.

  At just after ten thirty the next day—a radiant Sunday morning—Toren pulled off the street and onto the long driveway that led to his onetime home. A house that would be his home again. If faith was the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, then Toren was slowly building up a solid supply.

  Sloane and he and Callie and Colton would be a family again. It was happening. And the fire of Sloane’s
and his love would be rekindled and blaze brighter than it ever had before. This morning, this moment, was the next step. Sloane said they’d get a chance to talk after. Toren was ready, knew exactly what he was going to say. He would win her back. First the birdhouses, then the conversation. Yes, Lord.

  As he swung around the last turn blocking his view of the house, a car he didn’t know filled his vision. Who? No idea. But Toren didn’t have time to run through the possible suspects because before he brought his car to a stop, the front door of the house opened. Colton stepped out. Then Callie. Then Sloane and a tall man with wavy blond hair. Heat shot up Toren’s neck into his head, and deep in his gut the heat began turning into a raging fire.

  The boyfriend. Had to be.

  Colton had a glove on his hand. So did Sloane’s guy. Of course he did. Colton scampered to the edge of the driveway and tossed a pitch to the tall man. He caught it, tossed it back, and after it smacked into Colton’s glove, said, “Nice catch!” loud enough for the words to seep through Toren’s window. The smile on Colton’s face burned through Toren’s mind.

  Calm. Control. He would not lose it. Not here. Not now. Not ever again.

  Toren rammed his car into park, shot up a prayer, stepped out of his car, and stood next to it, arms pulled tight across his chest.

  Sloane strolled toward him as she waved the man over. When he reached her, Sloane took the man’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  “Hey,” Sloane said. “Perfect timing.”

  “Yeah.” Toren didn’t move. “Perfect.”

  “Toren, this is my friend Levi. Levi, this is Toren.”

  It took all of Toren’s resolve not to crush Levi’s palm in his during an awkward handshake. Neither man told a lie by making some inane comment about how good it was to meet the other.

  Levi backed away and looked only at Sloane. “I’ll give you two a chance to talk.”

  “Sure,” Sloane said. “Be there in a few seconds.”

  She turned to Toren, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses.

  “Where are you and that guy going with my kids?”