The Pages of Her Life

by James L. Rubart

  “Your last name is Moore.”

  Parker resisted the urge to comment. This cop was brilliant. Apparently he knew how to read. “Yes, it is.”

  “Might be a painful question to answer, but I’m curious. Are you any relation to Joel Moore?”

  “Yeah. You’re right.” Parker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Painful.”

  “So you knew him.”

  “My brother.”

  The cop tapped Parker’s license on his hand for a few seconds.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” The cop took off his sunglasses. “Joel was one of a kind.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.” The words were rote. Automatic. He’d said them so many times over the past two and a half years they didn’t mean anything. Yes, he did appreciate it. At least he tried to. But it was tough being reminded he’d never measured up to the family’s golden boy.

  The cop cleared his throat. “I met Joel back in 2010. He and I went through the academy together. We stayed in touch. Phone calls a couple of times a year. Christmas cards. But what I’ll always remember is the time I mentioned I needed a car. Boom. Three days later he shows up on my doorstep with an old beater he’d found and just gave to me. That’s the kind of guy he was. They don’t come better than him.”

  Parker swallowed. He glanced at the cop. Were those tears in the man’s eyes? No. Come on. Please. Parker swallowed a second time. Coughed. Say the words. Get this over with.

  “No, they sure don’t make ’em any better than Joel.”

  The cop returned Parker’s registration, license, and proof of insurance.

  “I’m letting you off with only a warning.”

  “What?”

  The cop put his sunglasses back on. “Because of Joel.”

  The saint saves the sinner from a speeding ticket. Even in death, Joel was the hero.

  “Thank you.”

  “Again, I’m sorry for your pain.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” The cop tapped Parker’s rear tire with the toe of his boot. “I know it’s tempting with a bike like this, but keep it down from now on.”

  “Will do.”

  After the cop pulled back on the road, did a U-turn, and headed back to his lookout, Parker sat on his bike till the chill of the day seeped through every inch of his jacket and clothes. Allison had the wisdom to be born a woman. Didn’t have to deal with any of the pressure. All she had to do was be Daddy’s girl. Besides, she was an architect and would soon be pulling down the big bucks in her new partnership gig. Yeah, they had to get their mom’s debt paid off, but after that she’d have a career, a direction, esteem from others that overshadowed the fact she’d never measure up to her dead brother.

  twenty-six

  FINALLY,” ALLISON SAID AS SHE stood at the window and watched Parker’s motorcycle pull up to the curb in front of her house early Thursday evening. He’d made it.

  “Mom?”

  Her mom answered from the kitchen. “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Parker’s here.”

  Her mom came around the corner, tears already forming in the corners of her eyes. She gave Allison a quick hug and said, “I can’t get too emotional.”

  “Sure you can. Your son’s been off the grid for five-plus months, not truly knowing if he’s alive or . . . That can’t be easy to go through, given the past.”

  “It’s not.”

  “So get emotional, Mom. You’ve earned it.”

  Allison smiled, trying to infuse a hope into her mom that neither of them felt.

  “Things are getting better, Mom. All the time. We’re going to reconnect with Parker. We’re going to get your problem taken care of—he told me on the phone he has a way to help—and life is going to be good again.”

  “I hope you’re right, Ally. Really, I do.”

  “I am.”

  The doorbell rang, and Allison pulled away to answer it. She yanked open the door and threw her arms around Parker. “Mom is feeling a little emotional,” she whispered. “So make her feel like you want to be here.”

  “I do want to be here.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Parker stepped into the living room, strode up to his mom, and gave her a long hug. “I’m sorry, Mom, I just had to get away for a while.”

  “I know you did. I know.” She wiped away tears. “I was just worried. Moms are supposed to be.”

  “I should have been in touch. I blew it. Really. I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

  Their mom waved her hand. “It’s over. You’re here now.”

  Parker’s face went blank.

  “What’s wrong?” Allison asked.

  “I’m not here for long.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m going to Alaska.”

  “What?” Their mom squinted at him. “What for?”

  “Money. So I can help you out.” Parker rubbed his thumb against his fingers. “Fishing boat. I have a friend who has a friend. One of the crew got hurt. They needed someone quick. Perfect timing. A lot of hours, a lot of fish, a lot of money.”

  “Those boats are dangerous,” their mom said.

  “Yeah, that’s how some people would describe it.” Parker grinned. “Me? Should be a rush.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Parker,” Allison said.

  “I don’t?” He peered at Allison. “So you got your partnership thing figured out?”

  Allison gave a tiny shake of her head.

  “Then I do. Even if you were already pulling in the big bucks, Al, and the school gave you a huge cash prize, Mom, for doing something cool, I would still need to help out.”

  Tears welled in their mom’s eyes.

  “Besides, I need to try civilization again.”

  Allison scoffed. “I’m not sure I’d call a fishing boat in the Bering Sea civilization.”

  Parker laughed. “I’m easing back in slowly.”

  They sat down together around the coffee table. After Parker described his life in Mazama and he got an update on his mom’s ankle, she sighed and said, “We should probably watch this.”

  “Watch what?” Allison and Parker asked in tandem.

  “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, jinx!”

  Allison laughed, and a second later Parker joined in. And they were kids again, he a little boy, she a little girl. Like they’d been when they hid out together in Parker’s tree house talking about nothing and everything. Dreaming about what they’d be when they grew up.

  “You got me, Al. These will be the last words I speak till you release me.”

  Something about his eyes shot to her heart, and there was nothing more in the world she wanted to do than free her brother from his pain and fill his longing. They stared at each other, not needing to speak, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.

  She forced her tears down and said softly, “I release you, dear brother.”

  He nodded, and maybe it was only her imagination, but she thought she saw moisture in his eyes.

  After the moment settled, their mom cleared her throat and said, “I was going through a few of your dad’s old things in the boxes we brought over to Al’s garage from the house, getting rid of stuff, and . . . well, I came across an old VHS tape. Apparently your dad never threw out his old camera, and he filmed something he wants us to see. There was a note on top that said, ‘Play this please when I’m gone. It’s for you and the kids. Love, Leon.’ So I hooked up the old VHS player to the TV and I think we should watch it.”

  “Wow.” Parker leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “This should be interesting. You sure you want to see this, Mom? Since the revelation of . . . uh . . . certain things none of us knew about?”

  “Yes.” Her mom’s face was somber. “I’ll only wonder about it till I see it.”

  “Me too,” Allison said.

  “Okay,” Parker said. “Let’s go.”

  Allison pressed Play, and an image of her father fill
ed the screen. He sat in his favorite gray camping chair out in the backyard on the lawn. Its edges were frayed but not badly. Based on how the chair looked last summer, the video had to have been shot at least a couple of years ago.

  “Hello, my dear. Hello, Allison. Hello, Parker.”

  He rubbed his face and laughter sputtered out. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. But I’ve always liked those parts in the movies or on TV when the character makes a video and says, ‘If you’re watching this, then I’m dead.’ Now I get to be the one saying it, and you’re the people watching. But I didn’t think it would come this early.” A sadness crept into his eyes and he tried to laugh again, but the laughter died in his mouth.

  He paused and a pensive look came over his face, as if he was gathering his thoughts. After folding his hands across his lap, he continued.

  “Having that heart attack a few years back made me finally admit I’m not going to make it out of this thing called life alive. And then when the cancer followed up, I knew immortality wasn’t in the bag for me. So in case I go before any of you, which is pretty likely, there’s a few things I want to say.

  “First, there were times, a lot of times, I wish I’d done things differently. But more times where I’d do it over again in exactly the same way. Second, I wasn’t the best father, but I love you, Parker. I love you, Allison. Third, I wasn’t always the best husband, but I love you, sweetie. With all my heart. Last, don’t cry for me. I’m in the place now where all your dreams come true. And I’m with Joel again. Finally I’m with my boy again. And what could be better than that?”

  It looked like tears were coming to her dad’s eyes. Cry? He never cried. But if they were tears, they didn’t spill over. Another deep breath and he continued.

  “I leave you with my love, most of all. I’ll see you all soon.”

  Her dad smiled, then reached forward, and the clip ended.

  Allison sat stunned, not wanting to turn and look at Parker, but she had to. Had to see how much damage her dad had done from the other side of the grave.

  “There’re things he wished he would have done differently? Like not leave us hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt? And he’s excited to be with Joel?” Parker’s voice started out low but grew in volume with each word. “Like he wasn’t with Joel every single moment of every day, even after Joel was dead?”

  “Don’t say that, Parker.”

  “Why not, Mom? It’s true. He was with Joel before he died and with Joel even after he died. He certainly wasn’t here with us. Ever.”

  “Please, Parker.”

  Parker stood, marched to the edge of the living room, and spun. “Every conversation—I am not exaggerating—every single conversation I had with Dad, somehow we ended up talking about Joel, the superstar of the universe, the man who barfed up nuggets of gold when he was sick.”

  “Stop, Parker,” his mom said.

  “Good for Dad. What could be better than leaving us in debt so he can go be with Joel again? Certainly beats being here with his sorry excuse for a son.” Parker threw his hands in the air in mock praise. “Be with wonderful, glorious Joel! Way to go, Dad!”

  “Don’t say that. You loved your brother.”

  “Yeah, I did. But he wasn’t perfect. Did you know that?”

  Allison went to Parker and took his arm. “Let’s talk, you and me. Let’s not make this about Dad. Let’s make it about the three people in this family who are still living.”

  Parker gave a slight nod and said, “I love you, sis. Always will.”

  “Me too, Parker, so let’s—”

  Parker pulled away and said to their mother, “I love you too, Mom, but I’m out of here.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll call you both when I get back from Alaska.”

  He strode for the door.

  “Parker, stop. Please.” Allison rushed after him. “Let’s talk about this, find a way to let this go.”

  “Good call.” He stopped in the doorframe, the edge of the door in his left hand. “You do that, and let me know when it’s all figured out.”

  He yanked open her front door, strode through it, then slammed it behind him. Allison pulled it open and went after him.

  “Hey, talk to me,” she called out to his retreating figure. “Stop!”

  Parker marched up to his bike and stopped but didn’t look up. “What?”

  She worked her way down the steps and made her way to Parker’s motorcycle.

  “You’re not the only one who was an afterthought to Dad.”

  “I know, Al. I get it. Sorry.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Parker still didn’t look up.

  “Job starts right away.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Hey, it’s me.” Parker got on his bike and gave her a thin smile. “You know I won’t be careful.”

  twenty-seven

  AT A STOPLIGHT ON THE way home from work the next day, Allison pulled out Richard’s card and stared at the number. She wanted to talk to someone other than her mom about the journal. Mom was great, would drop anything to talk for as long as Allison liked, but the subject matter was too close to home. Plus, Richard hadn’t answered her question about the writing being—or not being—from God. This guy knew something. Had to. And he’d said he’d talk to her anytime.

  She dialed his number, and he answered on the second ring.

  “Richard here.”

  “Richard? It’s Allison Moore. We met on the—”

  “Have you dried out?” Warm laughter came through the phone.

  “Yes, thanks. You?”

  “Yes.” She could tell he was smiling. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation. You wanted to know if I thought the writing in your journal was the hand of God or something else.”

  Allison almost laughed. So she wouldn’t have to drag it out of him. How refreshing.

  “I did. You’re right.” She paused. “So can we talk?”

  “Love to. When? Where?”

  They met the next afternoon at The Vogue, and Allison didn’t waste any time with small talk.

  “The first two times I wrote in the journal, it changed, but the third time it didn’t. What does that mean? And the first two times when it did, are those changes from the hand of God?”

  “That’s what Alister came to believe. And if it is God, then I suppose he gets to choose when he changes the writing and when he doesn’t.” Richard leaned back and crossed his legs. “What do you think, Allison?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Which is why you want to know what I think. As if my opinion is the one that matters, which I don’t think it does.”

  “Yes, it does matter.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you were with Alister. You were around during the time he had the journal. You had to have gained some kind of insight or knowledge about the journal.”

  “Regardless of what I saw, it’s still only my opinion. What matters more is yours.”

  “Will you tell me what you think anyway?”

  “Yes.” Richard uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, hands clasped, elbows on the table, and lowered his voice. “I do think the journal is real. I do think something supernatural is going on with regard to the writing in your journal.”

  “What do I do about that?”

  “Read what it says, embrace the changes.”

  So simple to say, so hard to do. Time to shift gears.

  “Why did Alister choose me?”

  “He told me he would listen to the Spirit and give it to the person he thought the Spirit told him to. Apparently that is you.”

  “But what’s happening in that journal is impossible.”

  “Is that so?” Richard arched an eyebrow. “We’re talking about a God who can create a universe so vast we cannot comprehend it, a God who makes blind eyes see. This is a God who raises people from the dead, a God who makes lame men walk. You think he isn’t capable o
f putting things in motion to change a word or two in an ancient journal?”

  “Those miracles were thousands of years ago.”

  “No, they weren’t. We are bound by time. God is not. Those miracles happened just a moment ago.” Richard smiled as if Allison were his daughter. “Yesterday I saw a man’s leg grow to match the length of his other. Two weeks back I watched as a man who hadn’t heard in twenty years regained his hearing. And a month ago I watched a woman extend forgiveness, truly extend forgiveness, to her sister, who had defrauded her out of her life’s savings. God still does miracles in this day and this age. But then again, you just met me. Maybe I’m making those things up.”

  “I want to believe they happened. I’m trying.”

  “‘It will happen to you just as you have believed.’”

  “Don’t go all spiritual and start using the Bible against me.”

  “Sorry, won’t happen again.” Richard laughed. “I hope.”

  “I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around this.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe there was no change. You imagined it, or you’re simply going crazy.” He winked at her and smiled.

  She didn’t. “I’ve considered that.”

  “You’re not going crazy.”

  The sounds of U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” floated down on them from the speaker above.

  “Where do I go from here?”

  “Good question,” Richard said as he tilted his head toward the speaker above. “My suggestion, dear Allison, is to climb the highest mountains that come into your world. Scale the city walls. Keep running even when this journey overwhelms you. Believe your bonds have been broken. Believe Jesus carried the cross of your shame. Believe in kingdom come. Not in some age to come in the future, but right now. Choose to believe the kingdom is in your midst and is here to set you free.”

  twenty-eight