Point of No Return (40 page)

“He asked us those same questions before he collapsed. It's caused quite a stir. Some of us are doing a lot of soul-searching because of him.”

“I hope none of you blame yourselves,” Christine said. “He was a stranger to you.”

Whit looked her directly in the eyes. “He was a stranger, but none of us took him in.”

Christine shook her head. “It's not realistic to expect anyone to…to…”

“Put ourselves on the line like Christians have for the past two thousand years?”

“You're being too hard on yourself,” she replied.

“Not at all. I'm merely asking the same question your father asked: What does it mean to follow in the footsteps of Jesus? It's an important question to answer.”

“
Can
it be answered?” Christine asked.

“Not without great sacrifice, I suspect.”

They sat quietly for another moment. The bell above the front door jingled as kids made their way in.

“I think I have some customers,” Whit said.

Christine stood up. “My husband is coming tomorrow to help make arrangements for my father. We're going to bury him in Connellsville next to my mother. Will you come to the funeral?”

“Of course,” Whit said warmly. “And if you need any help—with
anything
—money or— well, just ask.”

Christine took Whit's hand and smiled gratefully. “You've done enough already. Just come to the funeral.”

When Tom Riley stopped by to visit later in the evening, Whit told him about his visit with Christine.

“She seemed like a very sweet girl,” Whit said in conclusion.

“I'm sure she is,” Tom said. “I'd like to join you for that funeral, if you don't mind.”

“I'd appreciate the company.”

Tom climbed onto a stool at the soda counter and eyed his friend. “Well?”

Whit wiped off a table with a damp cloth and picked up someone's sticky, empty ice-cream bowl. “Well what?”

“You've got that pinched look in the corner of your eyes. There's something on your mind,” Tom said.

Whit took the dirty dishes back to the counter and lingered there while his mind worked out what he wanted to say. “Tom, this whole thing has done something to me.”

“I can see that.”

“It's created an ache in my heart that I can't get rid of. And I don't mean feelings of guilt. It's more than that.” Whit wiped the counter with the cloth. “Raymond Clark could be any one of us. He was a good man, a
Christian
man, and yet there he was at the end of his life still wondering what it meant to be a Christian.”

“I wonder about it all the time. Don't you?”

Whit shrugged. “I guess I thought I'd have some of it figured out by now. Isn't that one of the benefits of growing old?”

“Says who?” Tom chuckled. “I don't remember anybody giving us guarantees about what we should or shouldn't know. All I remember is that the Bible tells us to be obedient, whether we can figure things out or not.”

“I know, I know,” Whit said. “But it seems strange to be a Christian as long as I've been and find myself right back at the start.
What would Jesus do?
It's such a basic question and I've never practiced finding an answer to it.”

Tom laughed. “When have you ever had the time, Whit? Look at the hours you put into this shop—not to mention all the other things you do with the church and various city committees. You're constantly on the run. Not even Jesus tried to do
everything
.”

The Starduster careened downward toward the village of Mythopoeic, its hyper-blast guns trained on the group of unsuspecting citizens going about their business on the main avenue. The Evil Overlord Latas gently squeezed the firing stick. The Starduster jerked as laser-balls burst forward. Each one hit the village below, disintegrating the people into clouds of dust and leaving behind craters of black soot. Leisha, daughter of the once-powerful Madrigal, turned and cried for help from the gods of Avaline. Latas trained his sites on her—because she was his only reason for attacking the village in the first place…

Matt suddenly paused the DVD player. “Was that a car door? I thought I heard a car door slam.”

“I didn't hear anything. Now turn the movie back on; this is the best part,” Jack said, then turned to Oscar, who was hiding his eyes behind a pillow. “You can come out now, Oscar.”

Oscar peeked at Jack. “This stuff gives me nightmares. That Over-lord Latas and his army reminds me of Joe Devlin and his bullies.”

Matt listened for a moment to make sure his parents hadn't come home early from their meeting. “I could've sworn I heard them.”

“Come on, Matt. This is where Leisha calls down the lightning from Natrom.” Jack grabbed for the remote control.

“Wait a minute,” Matt said, holding the remote out of Jack's reach.

“What's the matter? Your parents aren't home yet.”

“I know, but…” he hesitated. “It just suddenly occurred to me that this is wrong.”

Jack scrunched his eyebrows down. “
What's
wrong?”

“Watching a movie that I
know
my parents wouldn't want me to watch,” answered Matt.

“They didn't say you
couldn't
watch it,” Jack reminded him.

“But they didn't say I
could
, either. You brought it over. They don't know anything about it.” Matt turned the movie off.

Jack groaned. “It's only a movie.”

“When Leisha prayed to those gods like she did…well, it seemed wrong. There's only one God,” Matt said.

“I was thinking the same thing myself,” Oscar piped in.

Jack folded his arms impatiently. “It's a story that takes place in a different dimension. What's with you guys?”

“We promised that we'd ask what Jesus would do about
everything
,” Matt said. “Would Jesus watch this movie—especially when He didn't have His parents' permission?”

“I don't know,” Jack shrugged. “They didn't have movies when Jesus was a kid.”

Matt persisted: “They probably had a lot of things like movies, though. Storytellers or books or whatever. The question is, would Jesus watch a movie where the bad guys kill everyone and the good guys pray to gods who aren't God?”

“Beats me. How do we find out?”

“Mr. Whittaker said we'd have to study Jesus in the Bible,” Oscar offered. “Do you have one around here? I'd like to see what it says about Joe Devlin.”

Matt thought about it. “I have a Bible in my room. And there's one that my Dad uses in his den.”

They turned off the television and Jack grabbed the DVD to put back into his backpack. He looked at the cover one last time: where starships fired at innocent villagers and a dazzling blonde woman shot lightning from her fingertips at a gruesome monster. For a fleeting second, Jack thought he saw the picture as Jesus would've seen it—and he felt sad. It was only a story, all right, but was it a story that Jesus would like? As he slipped the movie into his backpack, Jack knew he would never watch the film again.

Bibles in hand, the three boys sat down in the living room to see if they could find out what Jesus would do about movies and bullies and anything else they could think of. No one was more surprised by the scene than Matt's parents when they got home.

CHAPTER NINE

“L
UCY
!” K
AREN CALLED
down the hallway the next morning at school.

“Hi, Karen.”

Karen was breathless as she spoke. “He wants to see me.”

“Who does?” Lucy asked.

“Mr. Laker! He wants to see me in his office,” Karen gasped, looking left and right as if the man himself might be standing nearby.

Lucy looked at Karen wide-eyed, then fought to keep control of her own fear. It wouldn't help for both of them to be panicked. “Really?” she said calmly.

“‘Really?' Is that all you can say? What am I going to do?” Karen asked in a harsh whisper.

“What would Jesus do?”

Karen held her books close to her chest while she rubbed her eyes wearily with her free hand. “I read my Bible last night—I prayed—I'm still not sure. Oh, I wish I never looked at that stupid file! I didn't get any sleep last night.”

“I wonder if Jesus had any sleepless nights from worry?” Lucy asked, more as an accusation than a question.

Karen frowned at her friend. “Cut it out. I'm not Jesus. I'm just trying to follow Him. And right now it's scaring me to death.”

“Did you tell your parents about the file?”

“No,” Karen said quickly. “Telling them would be the same as telling everyone else. I'm not ready to do that yet. This is so serious. They'd make me confront Mr. Laker. I don't know if I can do that.”

Lucy turned to face Karen. “Jesus exposed the darkness in the world. He got after the religious leaders for leaving God out of all their rules. Isn't it the same here?”

“Maybe it is,” Karen said. “But they crucified Jesus in the end, remember?”

“And God raised Him from the dead,” Lucy pointed out.

Karen groaned. “But will He raise
me
after Mr. Laker gets done with me? I wish I could pretend I didn't see anything. I'm a nervous wreck!”

Lucy ached for her friend, but could only say, “I'm sorry, Karen, I want to help you. But I'm not the Holy Spirit. Is there time to go somewhere and pray?”

“No! I have to go meet him
now
.”

Lucy scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe Mr. Laker won't even bring it up. You know, he might want to meet with you about something else.”

Karen looked at her friend hopefully. “Do you really think so?”

“That could be your test. Why don't you wait and see if Mr. Laker brings it up? If he does, then you'll probably have to tell him what you know. You can't lie. Jesus wouldn't. But if he
doesn't
mention it, then you'll have time to think about what to do. You'll have to tell your parents, you know.”

“I know. And I will.” Karen backed away from Lucy to go to the office. “Pray for me,” she said.

Lucy watched Karen disappear around the corner, then slumped against the wall. She was trying to be strong for her friend. She wanted to encourage her to do the right thing. Yet, in her heart, Lucy was deeply afraid of what Mr. Laker might do to Karen. If he was truly guilty of breaking the school's policy—a policy that was put there for very good reasons—then he might try to protect himself. How, though? How far would Mr. Laker go to keep himself out of trouble? The possible answers worried Lucy.

Mr. Laker waved to the metal chair just opposite to his desk. “Sit down, Karen.”

“Yes, sir,” Karen said and sat down. She still held her books close, pressing them against her lap.

“I'll come right to the point. You're an impressive young girl, Karen. Talented, too. You play the oboe, I know.”

Karen wasn't sure what to say. Discussing her oboe-playing wasn't what she thought they were going to do. “The oboe? Yes, I do,” she stammered.

“I heard you at the last school concert. You're quite remarkable.”

Karen blushed and said, “Thank you.”

“Are you familiar with the Campbell County Youth Orchestra?” he asked, peering at his nails indifferently.

Karen brightened. “Are you kidding? Sure I've heard of it. It's the best there is.”

Mr. Laker chuckled and said, “There're probably one or two that's better. But you're right: They're the best in this state for their age group. They take only the brightest students and the most talented players.”

“Yes, sir. I hope to play with them one day. Maybe next year.”

“How about
this
year?”

Karen tilted her head, unsure of how to take the question. “I beg your pardon?”

Mr. Laker sat forward in the chair again. “Karen, I'm pleased to tell you that you've been selected to play the oboe for the Campbell County Youth Orchestra.”