by Nancy Hopper
He leveled a steely look at Tim. "I'll be honest with you. I really don't want you yanking them out of here and dragging them off to Wyoming, unless you feel you have to. I won't interfere, but I'm telling you how I feel."
Tim looked at Brent with dawning comprehension, and compassion. "Well, I'll tell you what, Brent. I promised both of them a pony, and a kitten, and Lucas is pretty set on seeing them pigs. And, my heart is in that ranch. My dad can’t run it alone anymore, he saves a good deal of the heavier work for me.”
"But, I don't see a problem with us being wherever you are, a good deal of the time. You know, you could build a house on the ranch, too. You're welcome to be with us there, anytime. I don't want you to worry about it. I'm not going to take them away from you any more than I have to. There's nothing we can't work out.”
"But, I do feel that they’ll accept me more readily if we become one household in Jackson, right after the wedding. "You’d be welcome as our guest, though, for as long as you want to stay. My house is fairly large. You could even live there if you want. We could expand it to give you a suite and office. Whatever will make you happy."
Looking at Brent, as he absorbed Tim's answer, Tim began to see his lonely, aching, fearful heart. He could see that the man was deeply touched.
"You know, this time with Tasha and the kids has been the only thing that's really ever worked for me. I ... I really hate to see them go." He admitted to Tim, keeping his eyes averted. "I'd be grateful if you could learn to be part of us. At least part of the time. But I can see the wisdom of your going to Jackson for awhile. I’ll think about coming down weekends when I can. If you really mean it, maybe I’ll build a place there, with you."
Tim smiled at him. "No problem. I like being around you. But Brent, have you ever considered getting married again?" he asked curiously.
Brent frowned. "Naw. It wouldn't be right to do that to a woman."
"What do you mean?" Tim asked, laughing. The man perplexed him.
Brent shrugged. "I trash women out, Timothy. I ruin them. Somehow, I always end up blowing it. I get the hots for someone else, I'm always looking for a new thrill. One time, Tasha caught me with a fifteen year-old girl, and told me what she thought of me. I busted her nose, and I lost her for a number of years. But as time went by, I began to realize that she was right. What I was doing was ludicrous. So for the past five years or so, I've pretty much stayed away from the marriageable kind of women. I have numbers I can call for safe and very expensive company when I need it." He said cockily, wondering if it would shock this young preacher man.
Tim watched him calmly, his face betraying no shock, no disgust, or contempt. "Is this the way you want it to be? What happened to cause it, Brent? I guess what I'm saying is, you had to be innocent at one time? You married with the intention of making it last, didn't you?"
Brent shrugged. "My Aunt Jane taught me the joy of sex when I was thirteen. By the time I got married, I'm not sure that I cared, anymore.”
He chuckled. “You know, there is only one woman I wish I would have married. Maybe, if I'd been smart enough to do that then, things would be different. But now, there's no going back."
"The root of the problem for you then, is your Aunt Jane. It's a generational thing, Brent. It can be broken. You can go back to being a man who can have a wife, if you want it."
"Not possible." Brent denied with a sneer.
"Entirely possible. But it's up to you." Tim argued gently.
"How?" Brent asked darkly.
“We'll break the spiritual bondage that began for you in your relationship with your aunt. I'll bet someone treated her the same way she treated you."
"And I suppose you heard this from God." Brent taunted.
"Uh, huh." Tim confirmed as his prophetic gift started flowing. "Your Aunt Jane was twenty when she seduced you. And her brother Raymond was watching. If you don't think so, ask her and watch her come unglued. Your great uncle Jimmy seduced your Aunt Jane. And he was later shot by the father of a twelve year-old girl he ruined. Shot through the neck. Killed him on the spot."
Brent's cigar fell out of his mouth. He quickly bent over to pick it up off the floor. He carefully put it in an ashtray. "How did you hear about that? Tasha knows nothing about it."
"I know, and I don't plan to tell her, Brent. Your first wife was named Emilie. She was Tasha's mother, and you never loved her. You loved a woman named ... Elena. Still, you wish you hadn't discarded Tasha's mother, for the child's sake. But now, she is married and she lives in Europe."
“Cut it out! Who told you this crap? What else do you know?"
Tim shrugged. "I know that you've tried everything once. Brent, I am seeing a lot of stuff. Do you really want me to tell you all of it?"
"No! No, stop." Brent paled.
"Brent, this brings me no pleasure. Believe me; I see it all and I can tell you details nobody else knows. Things no living person could tell."
"Why?" Brent shouted at him, looking wild-eyed.
"So that you will know and believe that He is Lord God Almighty. He wants you to know."
"No way. Tim, you can't make me believe in your God! Come on, now, be reasonable."
"There was a boy named Willie." Tim went on resolutely.
"Stop! Stop it, now." Brent begged. There was sweat beading on his brow. "You can't ... you can't talk about that. It will get me killed. You can't possibly know about that."
Tim smiled sadly. "Brent, I can give you names of all your contacts, I can tell you who's run your money across state lines. No one else knows, and no one will. I'm not trying to blackmail you, Brent. I know that you've had more than one man killed to keep these secrets. Three men, actually; Ben, Willie and Thomas. I would make number four."
Brent was breathing hard. The sweat was pouring down his face. He looked at Tim with wild eyes. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"I'm just a prophet of God, Brent. You see, the problem you're faced with now, is that the Lord has come into your household. If you kill me, He will just send another prophet; and another. You're better off with me. I love your daughter, and I'm not intending to expose your past. So listen up, and let's see if we can find another way to deal with this. You can't run; the Lord has his finger on you, big time. I think He is very anxious to try to clean things up a bit, and see restoration come. It's a good thing, Brent, if you don't try to fight it."
"You are deranged." Brent accused wildly. "You can't come in here and preach at me, I won't have it!"
"Brent, why would I do this to you?" Tim asked gently. "Think about it. Listen to the Lord tell you all your secrets. Doesn't it make you think? He wants you to know that none of this will remain hidden. The truth is going to come out. Isn't it better to feel convicted in the privacy of your own home, and have it dealt with the easy way? Judgment has to come. You choose how and when, I guess."
"Are you threatening me?" Brent snapped.
"No. I'm giving you advance warning. This is a very serious thing, Brent. The Lord has come to bring you under conviction; to ask you to repent before Him, and accept His son, Jesus. If you will do that, all of these things will go under the blood of the Lamb; the blood Jesus shed on the cross to set you free. It will all go into the sea of forgetfulness.”
"But if you won't," Tim warned him softly, "all will become known; and you will be convicted both by men and by God. It will be too late, then. You won't have a choice in how it's dealt with, if you resist Him now.”
"Brent, if you'll give Him your heart and serve Him, you will pass from condemnation into grace, and all will be forgiven."
Brent pushed back his chair, and opened his mouth to speak. He couldn't seem to speak, so he tried to stand. Once on his feet, he could not seem to move. He reached a hand out toward Tim, and fell flat onto his face.
Tim stood over him, praying for the Spirit of the Lord to do His work. Soon, sobs began to come out of the prone man; sobs of anger, bitterness and anguish. Sobs of hopelessness, despair and pain.
It went on for hours. Tim sat and just waited. Except for the sobbing, Brent appeared to be a dead man.
Finally, he spoke. "Help me." He begged. Tim's heart was smitten by the brokenness he heard coming from the man's heart.
"I can help you." He told Brent. He got down on one knee, put a hand on Brent's head, and prayed for deliverance and salvation. As they came flooding in, Brent began to laugh.
Tim saw and spoke deliverance from the curses on the family, and the breaking of strongholds that the Lord showed him operating in Brent's life.
The depth of Tim's wisdom and revelation shook Brent to his core. There was no way he could have known any of the things he spoke to Brent about. He spoke with utter surety and confidence, and yet in a very honest, down to earth way.
"Brent?" Tim asked gently. "Will you accept Jesus? Will you allow him to be Lord in your life?"
"If I say yes, will He let me up off the floor?"
Tim chuckled. "Yeah, but you're going to have to mean it, Brent, or it will get worse. Don't say it to get out of a scrape. Wait until you really mean it."
Brent groaned, and that was all Tim heard from him for awhile.
"Tim?" he groaned at last. "Tim, I can't stand it anymore. Tell him I'll do it."
Tim squatted down at Brent's head and laid a gentle hand on him. "Tell him yourself, Brent. Talk to Him. Confess that He is Lord, and ask Him into your heart. But understand that it means He is in charge from now on."
"Damn." Brent huffed.
"I can't do it for you. You have to do it, and mean it." Tim explained gently.
"Jesus. Jesus." Brent said, and began to cry miserably.
"Come in, Lord." Tim prompted. Brent repeated it. "Be Lord in my life, in my heart." Tim urged. "Fill me with your Holy Spirit."
Brent stumbled through it, but Tim was quite sure it was done. Then, the Holy Spirit swept into the room and filled the prone man.
He came in such power that Tim ended up on the floor beside Brent, and they laughed mightily under His cleansing touch.
"Nothing has gone right for you since you were a boy, Brent. But that is all over now. It's all going to be put in order for you." Timothy predicted.
Then they lay still, side by side, for long hours through the night – under the hand of God.
Tim was sitting over a cup of coffee in the morning when Tasha came into the kitchen.
"You look like hell, darling. Rough night?" she asked lightly, kissing him and knowing he was doing a slow burn just having her there in her ruffled, cotton gown.
"Long night. But a very good one." He said. "You look smashing."
"Thank you. What happened last night?" she asked curiously. “I didn’t even rate a kiss goodnight?” she teased.
"You'll see." Tim predicted with a satisfied smile.
The children joined them, and then Lucinda. Brent came in last.
"'Morning." He said tiredly.
"Good morning." Tasha answered, turning her cheek up for his kiss. "Are you okay this morning?" she asked worriedly.
Brent laughed shortly. "Never better. I think I might even live."
Tim chuckled into his coffee cup, and ran a hand over his eyes. He knew exactly what Brent meant. They had shared such a deep, personal encounter with the Lord the night before, that they had both wondered if they'd survive it with their flesh intact.
When Brent opened up, he opened up wide. God had come in and possessed him, lock, stock and barrel. Brent Charles was now one hundred percent God's man.
Tasha cocked an eyebrow. "That's good ... I think. Just what have you two been up to?"
Brent looked away, afraid he might break down and start weeping in front of all of them. He stiffened his upper lip and looked at Tim, feeling as if he were looking directly into the eyes of Jesus. The love and strength he found there, gave him the courage to turn to his daughter.
"Suffice it to say that from this day forward, Jesus Christ is Lord in this house." He managed to say.
Tasha found a chair, and Lucinda went to her knees, with her hands raised in the air to praise Jesus. Tasha looked up at her father and saw the sweet, clear light shining through his eyes and face. The glory of the Lord came upon Brent's countenance, and when she saw it shining, Tasha simply fell onto her face on the floor.
Tim raised his eyes to heaven, and then closed them. The whole household fell under the power of God. Brent and Tim joined the women on the kitchen floor, on their knees, and the Holy Spirit brooded over them lovingly for some hours. It was quite a time in the Charles household.
Lucinda received the Holy Spirit, and Tasha found herself thrown into the river, but good. Tim had never really been sure that Tasha had completely come back to the Lord, again. Now, he knew.
He prayed with and for the children; and he felt a new, sweet bonding with them. They were accepting of him as they had never been before.
They told the children about their coming marriage, and it was accepted without any apparent reservations. Before it was over, Tim had a child on each knee, and they were asking him to tell them stories about their father. He was happy to oblige them.
When they had all recovered a bit, Tim called his parents.
"Timothy James!" Jerome Rain thundered. "Where in deuces have you been? Your mother is in shambles, Dana is on the brink of suicide, and I'm getting to the point that I can't take any more, myself!"
Tim was dumfounded! He'd never heard his father talk like this before. He sighed. He'd been so absorbed in Tasha and Brent the past couple of days, that he'd almost forgotten about Dana.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I really am. I didn't realize. Dana's pretty bad, huh?"
"She's a mess. Can't see why she ought to go on living."
Tim was quiet. "She knows better than that." He finally answered.
"Well, you try telling her." Jerome growled.
"Is she pregnant?"
"I don't think so. She did a home test that was negative. We ought to be out of the woods. She says there was only one time. I hope you taught that ... boy a lesson!"
"Well; I managed not to hit him, but it took all that I had. If I had known about Dana the last time I saw him, Dad, I don't think there would have been much left of him. I'd probably be asking you for bail."
"You've certainly gotten involved in some messes lately, son." Jerome grumbled.
"I know, Dad. I'm sorry. More than anything, about Dana. I trusted Rick! I had no idea; I wouldn't ever have suspected."
"I know that. Tim, you'd better tell me something about this girl." Jerome said in a low voice. "Your mother is beginning to show the strain."
Tim shook his head and chuckled. "I don't know where to start." He admitted. “There’s … so much.”
"You still walking the straight and narrow, son?"
Tim smiled. "Yes, a hundred percent. But only by the grace of God."
"Good. You keep it that way." Jerome counseled his son.
"Actually, Dad, I called to talk to you about her. I'm getting married."
There was silence on the line. "To that raven-haired, sexy siren in the pictures?" His father asked at last.
"None other." Tim assured him testily. His father’s tone of voice did not please him. Not at all.
"Son, are you sure this is what the Lord would have for you?" Jerome asked worriedly.
"You'll see." Timothy predicted. "I have no doubt whatsoever. Why don't you get on a plane and come to Salt Lake?" he pleaded.
"What? When?" Jerome blustered.
"Now would be good." Tim suggested strongly. "How about today?"
"What's the big hurry, son?"
"I am the big hurry, dad. This path is getting really straight and really narrow. I have to keep remembering why I don't want to fall off."
Jerome digested the words and the shock. "I'll be darned." He said with wonder. "I never thought I'd see the day again, that some girl got her claws in you."
"She doesn't have claws, dad. But she's got my heart, and I am very anxious
to make her my wife."
"Tim, how do I explain this?" Jerome groped. "This family is in no way ready for a wedding. I don't think that Dana could get through it, actually. This girl that you're involved with is the very same one that Dana lost her … man to. Please try to understand this, Timothy. She's got to have … she needs a little time."
Tim squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. "Dad," he objected, "Tasha didn't do this."
"It doesn't matter, son. The results are still the same, for Dana. If you don't come home and work with Dana on this end, there could be serious permanent consequences."
The words hit Tim hard. His father had never shown him anything but complete support. This was ... difficult. It slowly began to sink in, that Dana had to come first, right now. He sighed harshly, and tried to blink back tears of frustration.
“Dad, I can’t wait anymore. I’ll marry Tasha quietly up here now, and then come home. We can have a real wedding later.”
“You know very well that you can’t do anything that concerns that girl quietly, Timothy. The press knows when you go to the bathroom. Besides, Dana couldn’t handle it and I don’t think your mother would survive it, either. You know how women are about weddings. You’re her only son, Tim. Don’t you go breaking her heart, or I’ll come up there and deal with you, myself!”
Tim raised his eyebrows, and took the phone away from his ear to stare at it uncomprehendingly. He could scarcely believe that he was talking to his own father! He didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of this conversation.
He considered. His family was too important for him to sacrifice. Even if it meant putting off the wedding. He had no choice.
"All right, Dad.” he capitulated quietly. “Let me talk things over with Tasha. I'll call you back when I get a flight."
"Thank you, son. You're making the right choice." Jerome assured him. "And you listen to your old pa. Don't you blow it! You can wait as long as you have to."
"Yeah. I don't ever seem to have a choice." Tim agreed lifelessly. "I'll call you back in a bit."
He hung up the phone and shook his head, unable to believe that he was again being prevented from having Tasha by his side. He felt that it might be more than he could bear.