Eli (42 page)

“The trick is to forgive ourselves, and to forgive others . . .”

It seemed to be a two-part process. Striving for perfection, yes, but there was more. Striving for perfection, while relying upon . . . she searched for the phrase. Striving for . . . And then it fell into place:
Striving for perfection, while relying
upon . . . grace.
That was the word, the missing ingredient . . .

grace.

“Mom!”

She turned to see little Cody racing around the sliding door towards her. She barely had time to rise from the chair before he threw himself at her, hugging her waist with all of his might.

“Sweetheart, how . . . what are you . . .” And then she saw Ken round the corner.

“Hey, Jules.” He smiled softly, then glanced at her mother.

“Suzanne.”

Julia gave him a nod while at the same time indicating her displeasure. Then she knelt beside her son.

“Mom, it was the coolest thing. They gave us some chicken and chocolate cake and some headphones and we got to watch a movie and they gave me this lame pin.” He pretended to roll his eyes as he displayed the plastic airplane fas-hththt 5/14/01 11:35 AM Page 327

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tened to his shirt. “And Dad said maybe we can go to Disneyland or Universal Studios and . . . is that Grandpa?”

Julia looked tenderly at her son and brushed the hair from his eyes. Even though she was irritated that her request had been ignored, she was still moved to see her baby boy. She always was. “Yes, that’s your grandpa, Sweetheart.” She had a sudden impulse to pull him back into an embrace, but knew better. Even now he was starting past her toward the bed. She quietly watched as he arrived and stared at the bandaged head.

“You sure that’s him?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Hi, Cody.”

He looked up at Suzanne across the bed. “How ’bout coming over and giving your grandma a big hug?”

The boy grinned and scampered around to her.

Julia turned back to Ken who had entered the room, already raising his hands. “I know, I know you said you didn’t need us. But I figured . . . you know, maybe Cody should see his grandfather at least once before he passes on.”

Julia shook her head, almost amused.

“What?”

“You never could lie, could you?”

He gave a shrug. “It was the best excuse I could find.”

“So you flew all the way out here just to hold my hand,”

she said. It was a touching gesture, even though it did annoy her.

“He’s your father, Jules. We’re . . . your family.”

She looked at him. Despite her irritation, she was grateful to be surrounded by people who loved her, people whom she loved . . . well, as best as she knew how.

“How’d you get him past the nurse?” she asked. “He’s under twelve.”

Ken grinned. “Just turned on some of that ol’ Preston charm.”

Julia nodded. He did have charm, no doubt about that.

And love. At least for her. Funny, despite all the things she hththt 5/14/01 11:35 AM Page 328

328 had done to him, all the ways she’d failed him, he was always there for her. Always ready to understand and to forgive. As far as she could tell, the guy loved her more than she loved herself. He certainly forgave her more, she knew that. Forgiveness. There it was again. What had her mother said?
“The
key is in being able to forgive.”

“Look!”

She turned to Cody, who stood at the head of the bed, pointing. Her father was breathing heavily again—deep, uneven breaths.

“Is he going to die now?”

Suzanne knelt beside the boy and wrapped her arms around him. “Soon,” she said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Very soon.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked. “It looks like it hurts.”

“No, they gave him medicine to take away the pain.”

“All of it?”

She nodded. “All of it.”

The breaths came harder, more desperate. Julia stared down at the heaving chest. She sensed Ken moving to her side.

“Has he been doing that long?” he asked.

Julia nodded. “But not like this.”

The head rolled slightly on the pillow, then the entire body gave a jerk.

“Mom?” Cody looked up at her.

“He’s okay, Sweetheart. He’s just getting ready to leave us.”

“Now?” Cody asked.

“I think so.”

The head moved again. There was another desperate, gasping breath. And another, even more urgent. Then, ever so softly, Julia heard her mother begin to sing:

“Jesus loves me, this I know,

For the Bible tells me so.”

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As she sang his body seemed to relax. The breathing grew less frantic.

“Little ones to Him belong,

They are weak but He is strong.”

She paused a minute to explain to Cody. “It makes him feel better. I think it makes it easier for him. You want to sing with me? You know the words, don’t you?”

The little boy nodded. She resumed:

“Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.”

Softly, he joined in on the last line.

“The Bible tells me so.”

The two took a breath and repeated the verse a little louder.

“Jesus loves me, this I know,

For the Bible tells me so.”

Julia looked on, moved by the earnestness in her son’s voice, by his unquestioning faith.

“Little ones to Him belong.”

He looked up to his parents. “Come on, we’re supposed to sing.”

“They are weak but He is strong.

Yes, Jesus loves me.”

Ken joined in. Quietly, hesitantly.

“Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

The Bible tells me so.”

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Her father’s body shuddered again. He made another effort to breathe, but it came out more as a grating, wheezing gasp.

“Come on, Mom!” Cody looked up at her, his eyes full of concern. “We’ve got to sing. For Grandpa.”

They began again:

“Jesus loves me, this I know.”

Julia opened her mouth. At first there was nothing
.

“For the Bible tells me so.”

Then, ever so faintly, words began to form.

“Little ones to Him belong,

They are weak but He is strong.”

And with the words came the tears. Tears spilling over and tracing down her face.

There was another wheezing gasp, worst than the last. He was trying to breathe, but no air would come. Urgency filled Cody’s voice. It filled all of their voices. Urgency mixed with hope . . . and faith. The time had finally arrived.

“Yes, Jesus loves me.”

With each word, Julia’s voice grew louder. More because she willed it than felt it. But if willing it was the place to start, then willing it was where she would begin.

“Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

The Bible tells me so.”

Her father gave one more gasp, more desperate than all of the others. And still Julia sang.

“Jesus loves me, this I know,

For the Bible tells me so.”

Her throat ached. The tears continued. And still she sang.

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“Little ones to Him belong,

They are weak but He is strong.”

She felt Ken wrap his arm around her shoulders. She moved in closer to him—to this man who had flown across the country to be by her side, to this man who could love her and forgive her, warts and all.

Her father’s entire body convulsed. Suddenly his breathing stopped as if he was holding his breath. And then, ever so gradually it relaxed, slowly exhaling as all air slipped from his lungs.

Julia watched, her throat constricting. But she continued to sing. She had to. She sang for her father, she sang for her family, and mostly, for the first time in a very long time, she sang for herself.

“Yes, Jesus loves me

Yes, Jesus loves me.

Yes, Jesus loves me.

The Bible tells me so.”

v

Leon Brewster swung hard, and to his amazement he actually connected with the ball. It was a hot grounder that scooted between Maggie at third and Scott, who was playing shortstop.

“Atta boy!” Conrad shouted. “Run, Leon, run!”

Leon, who hadn’t swung a bat since a police raid at his porn studio eight years earlier, took off for first. His gait was not as smooth as it could be, mostly because of his designer shoes, but somehow, someway, he made it to the base before the ball.

“All right, Leon!” Conrad clapped and laughed. “Way to go!”

They were at another softball field. It was similar to the one on the West Coast where Conrad had first met the hththt 5/14/01 11:35 AM Page 332

332 group—although this one was a bit higher class, with bleachers rising some thirty to forty feet into the air. Suspecting that he might be too old to play and maintain any sense of dignity, Conrad opted for standing behind the backstop and rooting.

At the moment Leon’s side was down by three, but things were looking up. With Leon on first, Brent on second, and Trevor on third, things were definitely looking up.

He glanced at Suzanne, who was clapping and cheering beside him. She was always beside him now. And he was always beside her. Just like old times. No, better than old times. Because now, at long last, he had finally found what he’d been looking for. He had finally found that “something”

to fill up his emptiness. And it had nothing to do with women, or fame, or work.

Lately, the group had been teasing the two of them about setting a wedding date. And a date would come; there was no doubt about it. But neither of them was in any hurry. After all, she was already a part of him, and he was already a part of her. It had been that way since they’d first exchanged vows nearly thirty years ago. It had simply taken Conrad a few decades longer to finally grasp it.

Over five weeks had passed since Eli’s lynching and since he had first appeared to Suzanne. Initially, even Conrad had found it difficult to believe her claims, thinking they had to be some sort of hysterical fantasy. But after Eli had appeared to the guys down at Kentucky Fried Chicken, where he insisted upon eating a wing (extra crispy) and cole slaw to prove he wasn’t some vision or ghost, then appeared to Scott and Hector and gave them an afternoon Bible study, pointing to over three hundred prophecies he had fulfilled during his stay on earth, and later when he’d appeared to those hundreds of people at the local mall . . . well, word was quickly spreading that Eli’s resurrection was more than somebody’s wishful thinking or overactive imagination.

Of course, Dr. Kerston and his associates were going out of their way to dispel what they insisted to be rumor and fab-hththt 5/14/01 11:35 AM Page 333

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rication. On at least two separate occasions, the guards at the morgue were featured guests on his TV talk show, where they carefully explained how they had fallen asleep on duty, and how Eli’s followers must have broken in and stolen the body.

Interestingly enough, they were never discharged from their services as security guards, and, according to a little inves-tigative reporting by Gerald McFarland, the new religious cor-respondent for
Up Front
magazine
,
both of them had received lifetime memberships to visit the City of God.

Earlier, Eli had given strict orders to the group that they were not to leave Salem County. He’d said they were to stay put until he sent some sort of “Helper,” the one he’d promised them the night of his arrest. Where and when that would happen was anybody’s guess. But it didn’t matter to Conrad. Not anymore. Conrad was done setting agendas. If Eli wanted them to wait, they would wait. If Eli wanted him to stand on his head whistling the national anthem, he would stand on his head and whistle the national anthem. It may not make sense, it may be totally absurd, but if there was one thing Conrad had learned, it was that Eli Shepherd could be trusted.

Not only in the predictions he’d made about himself, but in that upside-down, Kingdom of God living he was so fond of describing.

“Uh-oh.” Suzanne lowered her head and chuckled.

“What?” Conrad asked. He looked over and saw Jake approaching the plate. Uh-oh was right. The big man’s batting average had not improved since the first time Conrad had seen him at the plate. It still hovered around .000. With two outs and the bases loaded, this was not a good sign.

“Come on,” Suzanne shouted encouragingly. “You can do it, Jake. You can do it.”

“Oh, brother,” Conrad muttered—and then received an elbow in his side, with her admonition.

“Be nice.”

Reluctantly, he joined in the clapping. “Come on, Jake, let her rip.”

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The big guy took a couple practice swings.

Out on the mound, his brother, Robert, went through his prepitching ritual, rolling his head, squinting at the plate, until finally he lobbed the ball . . . right across the strike zone.

Jake’s swing came a moment or two later.

“That’s okay,” Suzanne shouted. “You’re doing great, you’re doing great!”

“Anybody ever accuse you of being an optimist?” Conrad teased.

She continued clapping while flashing him a smile.

“Guess I’ve always believed in the long shots.”

Conrad caught her drift and grinned back. How glad he was for that to be the case.

Robert went through his wind-up routine and lobbed the second pitch. It was just as perfect as the first. Once again Jake swung, and once again he missed.

“Shake it off!” Suzanne shouted. “Shake it off! This one’s got your name on it now. This one is all yours!”

Jake nodded, wiped the sweat from his face with his big, meaty hand, and took a couple more practice swings.

“Keep your eye open for the high lob, outside corner.”

The voice came from behind them, up in the stands. Conrad turned, shielding his eyes from the sun. Someone was standing on the very top bleacher.