Point of No Return (45 page)

“It does if you're drenched in it,” Jack said.

Joe realized what they were up to and looked stricken. “You clowns better not try it. You ruin my jacket and boots and you'll pay for them.”

“Why should we?” Matt asked. “You won't have any proof that we got them wet. You fell off the log on your way home.”

“Besides, you probably bought them with the money you keep stealing from Oscar,” Jack said.

“You force me into that water and you won't live to regret it!” Joe shouted.

Jack laughed. “What'll you do? Get your gang together and beat us up?”

“Count on it,” Joe said.

“Yeah, but you can't always be with your gang, Joe,” Matt countered. “Just like now. Whatever you do to us, we'll catch you alone and do back.”

Jack cracked the whip again. “Y'see? You guys aren't the only ones who can play rough.”

“On the other hand,” Matt said, “all you have to do is promise that you'll quit bullying Oscar.”

Joe spat at them. “I'm not making any deals with you sissies.”

“I guess that's his answer,” Matt said, and cracked the whip at Joe.

“Sounds like it,” Jack agreed and flicked his whip at Joe, too. They were careful not to hit him, but he didn't know that. He moved first in one direction, then the other, struggling to keep balance on the log.

“Promise?” Matt called out again as they slowly worked their whip ends closer to him.

“No!” Joe yelled back.

The two boys inched their whips closer and closer. Jack got a little too close and hit Joe on the hand.

“Ouch!” Joe cried out. “That hurt!”

Jack was surprised, but didn't show it. Having Joe in a state of fear encouraged him. “Now you know how it feels when you hurt other people.”

Joe paced like a lion between two tamers. His mind raced, trying to think of a way out—besides going into the water.

“Just promise, Joe!” Matt said.

Joe considered promising—and then going back on his word—but couldn't get the words out. It was galling to him to make any kind of promise to Matt and Jack. His pride wouldn't let him.

“That's it,” Jack announced. “You're going in!”

Matt and Jack increased the flicks of their whips toward Joe. They had him dead center between them now. Joe looked down at the water and cursed loudly at the two boys. The whips cracked harder and got closer until it seemed like Joe had no choice: He had to jump into the water.

“Stop it! Stop it!” came a voice from the clearing behind Matt.

Matt didn't turn to look, for fear that Joe might go for him. “Who is it?” he shouted at Jack.

Jack and Joe both looked beyond Matt. Oscar rushed toward them, waving his arms and yelling.

“Stop! Stop!” he cried out. He reached the end of the log on Matt's side and breathlessly said, “This is wrong. Don't do it.”

Matt lowered his whip. “Oscar, listen—”

Joe started for Matt, but Matt was too quick. He flicked the whip at Joe to force him back.

“You just stay where you are,” Matt said to Joe.

Jack shouted at Oscar. “Get out of here. We're trying to help you.”

“No!” shouted Oscar, red-faced. “This is wrong! What happened to your pledge? What happened to doing what Jesus would do?”

“Oh, brother,” Joe mumbled. “I should've figured it was one of those religious things.”

Matt said, “Jesus took action against the money changers and so
we're
taking action.”

“It's the wrong kind of action,” Oscar maintained.

“This is for
you
, you moron!” Jack shouted, clearly annoyed.

“If it's for me, then put your whips down!”

“Yeah, listen to him,” Joe said.

“Be quiet,” Jack growled and snapped the whip at him.

“It's
wrong
!” Oscar pleaded. “This
isn't
what Jesus would do. There are other ways to stop kids like Joe.”

“Yeah, like what? Not speak to him?” Jack said sarcastically.

“Maybe. And maybe we're supposed to just put up with him, too. Maybe we're supposed to put up with him and even forgive him, just like God puts up with us and forgives us!” Oscar said firmly, “Now put your whips down and let him go!”

Matt wasn't ready to give in. “But he has to promise first!”

“I don't want his promise!” Oscar cried out. “I don't want anything from him. I want you to let him go.”

“No can do,” Jack said. “I'm tired of his bullying everyone around. If we can't do this for you, we can do this for someone else.”

“Yeah, and then what? As soon as he gets away from here, he'll get his gang and hunt you down,” Oscar said.

“Big deal,” Jack replied. “Then we'll hunt
him
down. If he wants a war, he can have one. We have friends. We have kids who'll help.”

Oscar waved a finger at him in accusation. “Then you'll be just like him—
bullies
. Is that what you want? You want to ignore your pledge to be like Jesus in order to turn into another bunch of bullies like Joe and his gang? Is that what you're telling me? Because if you do, then you'll have to give up friends like me and Lucy and Karen and the people at church! Don't you get it? This isn't the way to do it! Jesus had the better way! Now, are you going to put your whips down or not?”

Matt and Jack looked at each other, trying to make a silent decision. They both knew Oscar was right. Their hearts told them so.

“ ‘Vengeance is mine,' says the Lord,” Oscar reminded them. It was a verse they had seen the other night when they read their Bibles together.

Jack rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath, and stepped away from Joe. Leaping down from the log onto the bank, he slowly coiled up the whip.

“Ha!” Joe snorted and crossed the log. “I won't forget this,” he said to Jack as he walked past. He sauntered away without looking back.

Jack and Matt glared at Oscar.

“It's what Jesus would do,” Oscar said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
HE FUNERAL FOR
Raymond Clark was a small affair held at the Chapel of Rest on the outskirts of Connellsville. Apart from Christine, her husband, Robert, and Whit and Tom, there were three former coworkers from the printing company where Raymond had once worked and been fired. It was hard for Whit to believe that only a few days had passed since Raymond Clark had entered his life. Now he was gone.

“Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die,' ” the presiding minister read over the plain brown casket. “The eternal God is thy refuge and underneath are the everlasting arms.”

He prayed a simple prayer about being comforted by God and to look beyond this life to the next one. “Help us to see the light of eternity,” he concluded, “so we may find the grace and strength for this and every time of need. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Christine read a collection of psalms reminding them all of God's everlasting love. Robert, a tall young man with dark, curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses, read passages from the New Testament about the peace of Christ and the never-failing love of God.

The minister then prayed, “Eternal God, who committest to us the swift and solemn trust of life, since we know not what a day may bring forth but only that the hour for serving Thee is always present, may we wake to the instant claims of Thy holy will, not waiting for tomorrow, but yielding today.”

That's what it's all about
, Whit thought.
The days are so short, our time to serve God is so brief. Why do we spend so much time on things that don't really matter?
Whit echoed the words in his heart: “May we wake to the instant claims of Thy holy will, not waiting for tomorrow, but yielding today.”

The late afternoon sky was alive with colorful contrasts: the brown carpet of fallen leaves on the cemetery lawn, a cloudless sky, pale marble tombstones that glimmered orange in the fading sunlight. “Not a bad day to go home,” Tom whispered to Whit at the grave site.

“Lord, have mercy,” the minister said.

“Christ have mercy,” the small gathering replied. They said the Lord's Prayer together, and the minister said a few concluding remarks about God's compassion, then ended with, “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.”

Whit and Tom were formally introduced to Robert, then given heartfelt hugs from Christine. “Thank you for coming,” she said tearfully. “My father had few friends here.”

“I only wish we could have been better friends when it really mattered,” Whit said.

Christine pulled Whit close and whispered in his ear, “You can let go of that now. It's finished. If you were really in the wrong, then consider it closed. My father forgives you. I forgive you. God has always forgiven you. What more do you want?”

“To follow Jesus,” Whit whispered back, emotion rising in his throat. “But thank you for saying so, Christine. Bless you.”

“Bless
you
, John Whittaker,” she said.

Tom and Whit walked silently back to the car. After they climbed in and they began the drive back to Odyssey, Tom asked, “So what now?”

“What do you mean?” Whit asked.

Tom stole a glance at his friend. “This whole experience is percolating inside of you. I can tell. Where do you think it's leading?”

Whit shrugged. “That's what I keep thinking about. It'd be easy for me to feel guilty and start giving my time to every charity in town.”

“You're doing that already,” Tom pointed out. “Where in the world will you find
more
time to give?”

Whit shook his head. “I don't have any more time. So I have to prioritize the time I have. That's it, isn't it?”

Tom chuckled softly. That's what he'd been trying to tell his friend for weeks.

“You've been absolutely right, Tom,” Whit said.

Tom looked surprised. “Really? About what?”

“About my time.” Whit casually rubbed the top of the dashboard. “Jesus did His Father's work. That's why He said yes to certain things, and no to others. Jesus knew how to prioritize. That's what you've been trying to tell me. I realize it now.”

“Terrific,” Tom said, impressed. “So where do you start?”

“The same place Jesus started.”

Tom looked at his friend quizzically.

“Jesus often went off alone to pray,” Whit said. “And that's exactly what I'm going to do.”

Two hours later, Whit returned to Whit's End where Oscar, Jack, and Matt were waiting on the porch.

“Is it time for another meeting?” he asked as he opened the front door.

“We think so,” Matt said. “If you have the time.”

“I'll make the time,” Whit said. It was dinnertime—a slow period for Whit's End's business. He let the three boys in, then closed the door behind them and locked it. He gestured to a table. “Sit down. Aren't Lucy and Karen coming?”

“We don't know where they are,” Oscar said. “
Two of us
left school as soon as the bell rang in order to—” He stopped, then turned to Jack and Matt. “Maybe you should tell him.”

Jack and Matt squirmed in their seats. Whit watched them curiously.

“Yeah, I guess we should,” Matt said. “Go ahead, Jack.”

“Me! Why do I have to confess?”

“Confess?” Whit asked.

“Oh,
I'll
do it,” Matt said, and told Whit what had happened with Joe at the creek. All in all, Whit was impressed with how well Matt told the story: He admitted fairly what he and Jack had done wrong, and included what Oscar did right.

When he finished, Whit patted Matt's arm. “Well done, Matt.”

Matt shrugged awkwardly.

“Oscar, I want to commend you for the way you handled Joe,” Whit said. “I think you're on the right track with him. Who knows? Maybe you'll lead him to Jesus eventually.”

Oscar blushed.

“You two, on the other hand,” Whit said to Jack and Matt, “should be ashamed of your behavior.”

Matt slouched in his chair. Jack fiddled with a plastic spoon to keep from looking anyone in the eye.

“How did you
ever
think that threatening Joe with whips and trying to ruin his clothes in the creek was a good idea?” Whit asked.

Matt shook his head. Jack looked as if he might say something, then changed his mind. Instead he muttered, “Jesus did it.”

“What Jesus did when He drove the money changers out of the temple was vastly different from what you did to Joe,” Whit said. “Jesus was purifying God's holy place of worship. What were you two doing?”

“Trying to get Joe to leave Oscar alone,” Jack said.

“Is that all?”