Dominion (98 page)

“I know the city will be wondrous,” Dani said, “but I can’t imagine anything greater than this place we stand in now.”

“That is the nature of heaven,” Torel said. “You always experience what is beyond your imagination. But once you experience it, your imagination is stretched farther. Instead of imagination always surpassing reality, as it did on earth, here reality always surpasses imagination.”

“It seems too good to be true.”

“In Elyon’s realm, everything that is good
is
true,” said the angel. “You are in the perimeter of heaven, having just stepped inside. You stand in the foyer of heaven’s auditorium, the entryway to the city. If the foyer is so wondrous, what do you think the auditorium will be? If the gateway is so grand, what do you think the city will be?”

“I knew he promised a place for us. I just couldn’t imagine it would be so … extraordinary.”

“As you prepared a room,” Torel said, “for each of your children—I was there when you did, you know—Elyon’s Son prepares a room for each child that arrives in his world. The quality of the room you prepared was limited both by your abilities and your resources. Elyon lacks neither. The great city will one day be moved to the new earth, and at last you will enter the place he has made for you.”

“Somehow I never envisioned this city as an actual place. I thought the descriptions were figurative.”

Torel looked perplexed, while Lewis smiled. “What does a figurative place look like?” Torel asked. “How do you eat a figurative meal, drink figurative water, walk on figurative streets, or sing figurative songs? I do not understand the human compulsion to reject the plain meaning of Elyon’s Word.”

“But,” she said looking at the city, “it’s so
huge.”

“It is exactly the size Elyon told you it would be,” Torel said. “Did you not read Elyon’s Book where he laid out the precise measurements of the eternal city? I am confounded at all the things your people were plainly told in Elyon’s Word but which you act amazed about when you get here. Will you also be amazed to find flowing water, trees, brilliant jewels, and golden streets polished to appear like transparent glass? I can understand why
seeing
such things would amaze you. But to be surprised at their very existence when Elyon revealed them to you is beyond my understanding.”

“This whole place is beyond my understanding,” Dani said, laughing. She looked through the portal at Clarence, sitting sullenly on a city bench. “Yet I understand so much more than my brother does. It’s so hard for him. Why must he go through this? Why is Elyon permitting him to suffer so much?”

“Imagine a man shut up in a dark room with no windows,” Lewis said. “He has only a few oil lamps. The comfort they bring keeps him in the room, grasping on to their tiny flickering light which cannot satisfy and cannot last. To experience the full light of day, the man need only walk out of the dark room, go to the front door, open it up, and step out into the sunlight. But as long as the flickering light of the oil lamp is there, he will not leave it, he will cling to its meager light. If you loved such a man, if you wanted the best for him, what would you do?”

“I’m not sure,” Dani said.

“You would blow out the little man-made lamps,” Lewis said. “Once he was free from their hold, you would lead him through the darkness and toward the door, so at last he could behold the light of heaven.”

“Hello, Mr. Abernathy. How are you?” Sheila’s upbeat voice convinced Clarence she wasn’t thinking ill of him.

“Well, things are a little tough right now, but I’ll make it. Can I speak to Reg Norcoast, please? Or if he’s not available, Carson Gray?”

“Mr. Gray went home sick. He’s been coughing and sneezing all day. I believe I can get Mr. Norcoast for you.”

Norcoast came on the line. “Clarence, I’m really sorry about all the trouble you’ve been having.”

“Yeah. Well, none of it’s true and I’m going to be cleared, but sometimes it takes awhile. Listen, you’ve been saying you wanted to play tennis again. I’ve got a court at four-fifteen today.”

“Hey, tennis sounds great. Normally I couldn’t—I’ve got a standing appointment with Carson Thursdays at four-thirty. But he went home sick. Poor guy was coughing and sneezing and hacking and I said, ‘Go home before you get us all sick.’ Four-fifteen out at Cascade Athletic Club on Division?”

“Yeah. Court three.”

“Super. I’ll see you there.”

Clarence had expected Norcoast to say no. Politicians don’t like to be seen with people in trouble. He flipped open the Ebenezer Church directory and looked up Harold Haddaway.

“Harold? Clarence Abernathy. You working at Councilman Norcoast’s office tonight? Can you do me a favor? It’s a little unusual. Could you let me into the office for just a few minutes tonight? There’s a good reason, believe me. You can stay right next to me the whole time, okay? Really? What time do you come in? Everybody gone by then? Great. Be there by seven-fifteen. And do me a favor, okay? Don’t mention this to anyone. And don’t dump the garbage until I get there.”

Reggie Norcoast served right on target, pounding Clarence’s backhand. No time for a backswing. Clarence could only block the ball and rely on the pace generated by Norcoast to get it back. The councilman’s service routine was exactly as Clarence remembered. He rubbed his left sweatshirt cuff across his mouth. Then he bounced the ball twice, went into his high toss, and brought down a powerful serve, mixing in a few heavy spin serves to vary the pace.

Clarence lost the first set 4-6 and won the second 7-5. That was the first set he’d won off Norcoast, but it took everything he had. They didn’t have time or energy for a third set, so they went to a twelve point tie-breaker, which Clarence lost 5-7.

They shook hands and walked to the locker room to shower. They tore plastic bags off the roll dispensers and put their tennis clothes and sweatbands in them. They sat in the hot tub, showered, returned to their lockers, got dressed, and started to walk out, each with his own duffel bag. Norcoast paused, double-checking inside the locker and his bag.

“Did you see my sweatshirt?” Norcoast asked Clarence.

“No. Are you sure you put it in the locker?”

“I thought so. But if I left it out, somebody might have thought it was his. Lots of gray sweatshirts. No big deal. Hope they get good use out of it. Have time for dinner, Clarence?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got a few things I’ve got to do back in town tonight.”

“Yeah. I promised I’d be home all evening with Esther. Thanks for the match. It was fun.”

Clarence rushed home, energized but tired and hungry. Geneva reheated the roast and potatoes in the microwave. He’d opened some of his mail at work but had put the rest in his briefcase so it wouldn’t distract him from his column. He started opening it now. A few of the dozen personal letters were complimentary and supportive. Some were neutral. But three letters stuck with him as if they were the only ones:

“Can’t stay away from white girls, huh? Better watch your back, nigger.”

“You can take the boy out of the jungle, but you can’t take the jungle out of the boy”

“We have always enjoyed your column, but your recent behavior has left us in shock. We’ve thought of you as a true Christian standing up for conservative values in the midst of a biased liberal media. But now you’ve betrayed us all by doing these horrible things. Your column and Jake Woods’s were two of the very few reasons we even subscribe to the
Trib.
Now we’d just as soon never see your name in print again. Shame on you.”

Clarence pushed back his plate, dinner uneaten.

The same people who whine about how biased the
Trib
is turn around and believe everything the
Trib
says.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Geneva asked “Didn’t like the roast?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just not hungry. And I’ve got something I have to do.”

Clarence walked out the fourteenth floor elevator to the detective department carrying a brown grocery bag that looked out of place with his tailored suit. After he waited five minutes, Ollie came barreling out and shook his hand.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Clarence. Our wives may get jealous. What’s up?” Ollie held open the door and beckoned him into the office area.

“No time to come in. Got to get back to the
Trib
and polish off a column. Just thought I’d drop these off for you.” He opened the bag so Ollie could peer in.

“A gray sweatshirt in a plastic bag? Smells ripe.”

“I think you’ll find that the left sleeve, especially the cuff, has a healthy sampling of saliva from the mouth of one Reggie Norcoast.”

“No kidding?” Ollie pointed in the bag. “And what’s in these little baggies?”

“Four still-moist tissues from the wastebasket of one very sick, coughing, and hacking Carson Gray.”

“Nasal discharge? Gag me. Well, we’ll see. It might do the trick.”

“As a backup, I scraped off two globs of chewing gum from under Gray’s desk.” He held up a baggy. “Didn’t touch it. Used my pocketknife.”

“Gray sticks chewing gum under his desk? Amazing the dirty little secrets you find out about people. Chewing gum, huh? Never used it for a DNA test before. I read in a journal it’s been done, though. Let’s see what the crew in criminology can do with it. If nothing else, it looks like it’s good for a few more chews. DNA testing usually takes weeks, but I’ll put a rush on it.”