Darkness Before Dawn

by Ace Collins

  The first time he came to see her Brooks read a great number of Scriptures to seemingly reassure her that all of this was in God’s plan. Meg actually heard few of his words. What she did hear just made her angry. She wasn’t buying any of the “God’s plan” bit. Why would God plan such a horrible thing? Why would He break her heart? And then there was the pastor’s constant need to stop and pray. Now praying seemed to be a bit like buying a spare tire after your car had been sold. What real good could it do?

  On Brooks’s second visit, after he had finished mumbling his carefully chosen words, she pressed him on the whys of Steve’s death. Brooks admitted he couldn’t understand why the accident had happened. And if a man trained to know didn’t know, how could Meg begin to understand or possibly put any faith in the God who had killed her husband? And if He is all-powerful and had allowed it to happen, then that was just what He had done. He’d killed her husband. That singular, cruel thought almost caused her to voice her emotions. But before she could tell Brooks that God had to be responsible, he chimed in with more of his evangelical dribble.

  “Meg, I don’t know what it is in this case, but I really believe that something good can and will come out of this. You need to believe that, too.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, and then he prayed again.

  While Meg didn’t accept Brooks’s faith in there being a reason for all of this, it had been easier simply to nod her head pretending to agree than to continue to challenge the man. After all, arguing would just needlessly waste more time discussing something she didn’t want to discuss. If Brooks wanted to continue to believe in the elementary Christian faith of her childhood, he could, but she had a much different point of view now. When all of this pomp and ceremony ended and Steve was buried, she’d start to live a life based on the present and not the future. She was not going to be hurt again nor live with fairy tales and outdated ideas such as good things happen to those who have faith. It was now all too obvious that had to be a fable. After all, she’d always played by the book. She’d been faithful. She’d tithed. She’d gone on mission trips. She’d prayed for the sick. She’d been the best Christian she could be and look at what had happened! The last thing she needed to hear at this point was “just have faith.”

  Thankfully, not everyone tossed off the same old, tired, and meaningless lines. There had been one person who hadn’t spit out a long litany of clichés. Heather had just been there and she’d been wonderful. She’d done her best to understand what Meg was saying and thinking and hadn’t even attempted to talk her out of wearing a blue dress instead of the traditional black to the funeral. After all, Steve had hated seeing her in dark clothing and she couldn’t bring herself to wear black even on this day. Heather had understood and even gone to bat for her against her mother. Thanks to her, that one battle had been won.

  Somehow, maybe thanks mostly to Heather, the world had moved forward and she and the endless streams of people who had offered their condolences were now seated in the church. There directly in front of her, presiding over it all was Reverend Brooks. And those who had packed the church for the service felt sure he would find the words to bring comfort to Meg. She was just as sure he couldn’t. After reading a few Scriptures, Brooks began to speak from the heart and in the process proved Meg right.

  “As we consider his death,” Brooks began, “we can now fully realize there was no finer young leader in this community than Steven Richards. He meant so much to this church. An active choir member, the leader of our high school Sunday school department, and of course, a tremendous witness to all of our members through his devotion to the wife he now leaves behind.”

  The preacher’s next words were equally glowing as he listed all of Steve’s great accomplishments from Eagle Scout to trusted employee. He told several funny tales that captured Steve’s sense of humor. He followed those with serious narrative, presenting example after example of his incredible character. But to Meg those words and the stories rang hollow now. They offered no comfort at all. Food had no taste, the wind no chill, the sun no shine, sleep offered no refuge, and words, even those praising the man she loved, meant nothing! She just wanted the words to end. Finally, after thirty long minutes, Brooks seemed to be coming to the real point he wanted the congregation to hear.

  “I don’t understand why this tragic accident happened, nor, I am sure, does anyone. God does not let us know all the mysteries that are a part of His world, but we can gain true inspiration and insight from Steven’s short life and feel true joy knowing that he is now happy with the Master in heaven.”

  Meg couldn’t help it. As soon as Brooks uttered those words she just had to shake her head. Mysteries of His world! Yeah, that was it. Why question the mysteries, just accept them. She’d heard that for two days. She wasn’t going to fall into the trap. She would never accept this. This wasn’t right and it had nothing to do with God’s love. And then, Brooks delivered the clincher.

  “You have to trust in the Lord and something good will come out of this.”

  He just had to toss it out there—that all-encompassing line she had heard from lots of family and friends over the past two days. Her mom was the worst. She kept saying it over and over again. And now, Brooks had fallen into that trap as well. Trust in the Lord and something good will come out of this. Well, if Meg managed to be good, Santa would come visit in nine months, too. Every child in the world knew that and every adult used it to keep those children in line. Something good coming out of this was a joke. She was alone. The love of her life had died. It might have been Steve’s mangled body in the gray coffin, but she was in there, too. And when they buried him, they would be burying the part of her that could feel and experience love. She knew that as well as she knew Steve would never again take a breath or say a word. And yet the preacher kept talking as if there could be some kind of opportunity created by Steve’s death. What kind of opportunity? What could anyone gain from this? Where was the good?

  “For even though the body of Steven Richards has died,” Brooks droned on, “we know that Steven accepted Jesus as his savior, and as is promised in the Bible, a believer in our Lord will be safe from death and can be sure that his soul will find everlasting life with Jesus in heaven.”

  Heaven! Meg couldn’t make a cell call to there. There was no iPhone app for that. She couldn’t talk to Steve or be held in his arms at his new address. So his being there brought no comfort at all. It didn’t stop her pain and didn’t fill the void in her life.

  Meg’s eyes left Brooks and went to those filling the church. Many were nodding, a few were whispering amen, but they all looked sad; some were even visibly hurting. It was as if they had each been kicked in the teeth. The more she looked around the more she realized that pain hung over the service like a violent summer storm. As she took it all in, Meg’s aching turned into rage. How could this be called a Christian service when it put so many people through such great anguish? Where was the love in all of this? Better yet, where was the saving grace?

  “So, Meg,” the pastor’s mentioning her name suddenly jarred her out of her raging fog and refocused her eyes on the pulpit. What she heard turned her stomach more than soothed her spirit.

  “Even though this time must be very hard for you, try to remember that Steven embraced a mission and a life beyond this one. In fact, he had a mission and a life greater than any we can begin to realize. He had been chosen by God to live and his job is finished, and he is now in a better place than we who are left. Thank you, God, for this man and what his life stood for. Now, let us pray.”

  Yep, the old mystery angle again. If you don’t have an answer for something, then trot it out and hook it to the it-must-have-been-his-time theory. It might work for some, but not for Meg and not today.

  Meg tuned out Brooks’s prayer. While all other heads in the auditorium were bowed, her eyes remained fixed on the closed coffin. She’d shed no tears since the ones that had fallen in the hospital parking lot and there would be none com
ing today. Not even the sight of that cold, gray coffin could open her heart. She was too angry to cry and ached to move to a place where she could fully vent.

  When this funeral ended, she silently vowed, she’d be walking out of this church for the last time. It couldn’t happen soon enough. After the final words were said and they lowered Steve into the ground and covered the casket with dirt, Meg would shake a few hands, accept a few hugs, and even mouth a few prayers, but only for the moment because the mask would soon come off. God had His chance to prove His love and He had not proved worthy of hers.

  As Brooks said his final amen and the congregation rose to watch the coffin rolled out of the church, the emotion Meg felt centered not on loss but rage. Before this day ended, she vowed that someone would feel her wrath. All she needed now was a human target.

  5

  OH, MEG, I THOUGHT THE REVEREND BROOKS GAVE US SUCH A MEANINGful message today. Didn’t you?”

  Meg glanced over at her mother. Barbara Hankins was short, auburn-haired, and a bit chubby. Her fair, round cheeks caused her dark brown eyes to appear larger than they were. She was dressed in a black suit and pumps. She was the stereotypical image of a president of a book review club and she just happened to be filling that role this year.

  “I thought Steve’s parents handled it very well. It’s a shame that they live so far away. I know that they could be such a comfort to you during this time. I mean, all things considered, what a beautiful service! It really did Steve proud. I know he would have liked it. I just wish your sister Terri could have been here. She just couldn’t make connections from overseas. She would have loved the service and been touched by it. Do you suppose the church made a video?”

  It had been six hours since they’d left the graveside and except for her mother, everyone else had gone home. Standing in the kitchen, looking out the window but not seeing anything, Meg started to acknowledge her mother’s comments in the same manner that she had everyone else’s, with a simple yes and a line about how glad she had been that all of the family and close friends could make it back to Springfield for the service, but something stopped her.

  This was her mother, they were finally alone, and it was time to be honest. After all, isn’t that what she’d always preached to her daughter? “Give it to me straight!” She had said time and time again. Well, it was time that Barbara Hankins experienced her daughter’s honesty. How could God have dared to take her husband, particularly now? No words or flowers or pretty services would supply the answer, and Meg had grown so tired of pretending that she was grateful for any of those things. It was time her mother heard about what Meg really thought about the service and everything else that had happened over the past two days. This was the moment Meg could toss off the part of the good little wife who would lean on God, make it through this hard time, and let all of her emotions out. Her mother just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like a wild stallion freed from a pen, she charged.

  “Mom, I don’t really care who came and who stayed home. I’m glad Terri didn’t waste her time and money trying to get home. I don’t give a flip about what Reverend Brooks or anyone else said or did. Steve’s dead and no one or nothing is going to change that.”

  The older woman, obviously stunned at the biting words spewing from her daughter’s mouth, rocked back on her heels. Almost joyfully, Meg observed the shock register on her mother’s face. This was exactly the reaction that Meg wanted. And before Barbara could find her voice, Meg continued.

  “If you want to believe that trash about God’s will, you can, but I don’t. You just show me what good will come out of this. I defy you to present to me just one thing! You can’t and you know it! No one can! You can’t give me one good reason that it was best for Steve to die now.”

  Meg’s brown eyes were burning with a cold, calculated fury, her tone now sharp and bitter. She was daring her mother to prove her wrong, verbally slapping the older woman with the faith she had long worn on her sleeve. And watching the confused look on her mother’s face gave Meg an emotional lift. After all, this time her mom would not have any satisfactory answers. There would be no Bible verses to trot out or old family stories that would make this all better.

  Barbara fidgeted on the couch, Meg’s sudden rage evidently shaking her to the bone. Meg could see the confusion written on her mother’s face and it brought her a strange sense of satisfaction.

  “Now, Honey,” she almost whispered, seemingly trying to choose words carefully so Meg would not become more upset. “You’re right. Nothing will bring Steve back, but bitterness is not going to get you anywhere. You can’t just give up on twenty-five years of faith simply because of one event.”

  “One event, Mom? Please get serious. Steve was my whole life. I’m not tossing out anything that matters, because I’ve already lost that. If God is a loving God, how could He have done this to Steve, to his family, or to me? You show me some reason, Mom. You can’t, because there isn’t any. There is absolutely no good reason for this. Steve didn’t die saving a life, didn’t die for some noble cause, he didn’t die for anything!”

  As silence filled the room and her fifty-five-year-old mother toyed with the corner of a magazine, Meg almost felt sorry for her. She almost reached out to hug Barbara. That is what she would have done in the past. She’d always been the perfect daughter. The girl who came home on time, kept her room neat, didn’t party, and never caused her parents’ any heartache. But she couldn’t be that person now. At this moment, with the fresh wounds of grief still raw, she couldn’t reach out in love to anyone, not even her mother.

  “Meg,” Barbara softly began, “I’ve always found that prayer is a way to understand just what . . .”

  Meg cut her off, “Okay, Mom, fine, you go ahead and pray, but I’m not going to. This God, this almighty being that zaps helpless people at random moments, He is not worthy of it. I now kind of think He kills people on whims for His own amusement. I wouldn’t associate with a person like that, so why would I speak to a god like that? It’d be like being friends with the school bully. If I have to believe that He works in strange ways, then fine. But if He is all-powerful, he could have saved Steve and He didn’t. In my mind that makes Him a murderer. And you know what we do with murderers in this state. We either execute them or put them away for life. Maybe I can’t execute God, but I can lock Him up and keep Him out of my life. In fact, I already have! I did it the moment I saw Steve’s body in pieces on the gurney. You should have been there, Mom. You should have seen it, too. That would have been a blow to your faith. Might have woken you up like it did me. I wish you’d seen what God did.”

  “Now, Meg. God wasn’t driving the car that hit Steve. He didn’t sell the liquor to those teenagers.” Barbara continued her rambling discourse, but Meg stopped listening after the word teenagers.

  Of course, they were the ones really responsible for Steve’s death. She’d completely forgotten about them until this moment. The driver of that car is the person who really deserves to feel her wrath.

  Meg’s heart began to race as she thought of exacting some kind of revenge on Steve’s killer. This would focus her pain. Maybe she could even bring the pain she was feeling now to the person responsible for Steve’s death. Suddenly wrapped up in devising a prescription to inflict pain, she was only vaguely aware that her mother had stopped talking.

  After an awkward moment of complete silence, Meg said, “Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. What’s happened has shifted my perspective.”

  “That’s okay, Honey. I understand.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Meg said, her tone now much softer. “By the way, who was driving the car that killed Steve?”

  “I don’t remember, Honey,” Barbara said almost absent-mindedly, “I’m not sure the police even released the information. I don’t think they could if the driver was a minor.”

  The realization sent a flood of rage through her body. That wasn’t fair. She should know the killer�
��s identity. If fact, she should be the one who judged and sentenced him.

  Meg turned back to the window and stared out to the street. If the news reports didn’t list the name, then who would know? Spinning around, she grumbled, “There has to be a way to find out who did this.”

  “Why would you want to know, Darling? What good would it do?”

  Her brown eyes locked on her mother. “I’m going to find out, Mom.” Smiling for the first time in two days, she added, “And when I do, I’m going to make him wish that he’d never been born.”

  Meg’s cold statement caused her mother to suddenly wrap her arms around her body as if chilled. Meg noted the reaction, but didn’t care. An eerie fire burned in her brown eyes as she planned her next move. She had a mission now. She was tossing away the old shell of a warm-hearted, loving Christian. That woman now lived in the past. It was time now to channel her inner Charles Bronson or Clint Eastwood—time to become a driven vigilante. Revenge would be hers and she could already taste it. Suddenly filled with a sense of power and purpose, her life again had meaning. Her misery could be transferred to the killer of her husband, and when that person wore her pain, she knew she would feel so very good.

  She glanced at the wedding portrait hanging on the wall and whispered, “Don’t worry, Steve, he’ll pay for what he did to you. You have my word!”

  For the first time in two days, Meg Hankins Richards felt alive!

  6

  AS MEG AWOKE, SHE AUTOMATICALLY TURNED TO FACE HER HUSBAND only to be confronted with the familiar spot where he always lay. The sudden shock of seeing an empty pillow immediately drove home the realization of the solitary nature of her new life, and the void Steve’s death had left filled the room like a choking cloud of toxic gas. Turning over and staring at the opposite wall didn’t remove the hollow feeling of loneliness; rather it magnified it. Choking back tears, she dragged herself out of bed, grabbed her robe, and wandered toward the apartment’s kitchen.