The Road to Mercy (12 page)

“That’s the problem. I don’t know.” Alex grinned. “I’m hoping it’s still on my cheek.” She stood perfectly still. “Do you see it?”

“Turn your face to the light,” Josh told her. “And hold your head up.”

Alex readjusted her position.

“No. Like this.” Josh gently tilted her chin while searching among the freckles for the lens.

“Can you see it? I hope I didn’t drop it into the food.” Her body shook as she squelched a chuckle.

“I’m not sure what you two girls have been drinking today, but you’re both in a mood. Hold still.” Josh moved his face closer. “I see it.”

“Ouch!”

“What’s going on?” Beth asked, as she walked into the room.

Josh and Alex were laughing so hard, tears streamed down their faces.

“Josh . . .” Alex couldn’t catch her breath. “Josh . . .” She tried again to speak. “Sorry. Give me a minute.” She fanned her face.

Josh wiped moisture from his eyes. “I was trying to find Alex’s contact lens.” He looked at Alex and grinned, and then
back to Beth. “And I . . . I almost had it.” He chuckled. “Until I stepped on her foot.”

He held his stomach and doubled over with laughter.

“I don’t get it,” Beth said.

“That’s not the best part.” Alex regained control of her speech. “The funny part is when the dog farted.”

“Poor Buster, are they picking on you?” Beth cooed.

Josh smiled. The girls had had him in stitches all afternoon.

A ringing phone interrupted the mood. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Danny Stevens’s name appeared in the viewer. “Hey, man, happy Thanksgiving.”

“My mom passed away.” His friend’s voice faded into silence, broken only by heavy breathing.

“Oh . . . no. I’m sorry.” Josh tried to find the appropriate words. “Is there anything I can do?”

“We’re not sure what we are going to do yet.” Danny sniffed back tears. “You know, with the funeral and all. We don’t have any plans.”

“Let me know when you do, and I’ll get the word out to everyone,” Josh said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just pray for us. That’s the main thing. Just pray.”

Josh hung up the phone. Why did the idea of praying seem unsettling to him? Hadn’t he prayed for Danny’s mom for months? Now she was gone.

Just when he had begun to believe that everything would be okay, he had more soul searching to do.

The parking lot had already begun to fill up when Josh and Beth arrived at Faith Chapel. The small country church rested snugly in a grove of trees near the north side of Wilson County, thirty miles outside of Nashville. Josh recognized several of the cars in the gravel lot as those of his band and crew. Shane’s red convertible, Mitch’s old pickup truck, and Ryan’s black Mercedes with vanity plates that boldly proclaimed his “superstar” status.

Josh backed his Jeep Cherokee into a space alongside the church. He nodded a greeting to an older couple as he walked to the passenger side to open the door for Beth. She looked stunning in the black dress she had purchased yesterday on a quick shopping excursion with Alex.

This was Beth’s first real outing since her hospitalization. He was concerned if she would have the stamina to sit through a funeral and a graveside service. But she had said she wanted to be supportive of Danny and his family, and to him.

Josh had agreed to sing one of Nell Stevens’s favorite hymns, accompanied by Shane on the guitar. Shane and he had run through the song last night at the house. Singing at funerals
had to be the worst gig in the world, but it was something all singers were asked to do at one time or another.

Singing to a grieving family wasn’t easy. But it was a gift that remained with the family for years to come. Music left an indelible impression on people’s lives, memories that would be relived every time they heard the song.

As he and Beth walked arm-in-arm toward the front of the church, Josh spotted Danny standing on the concrete stoop outside the entrance. Danny’s skin appeared as pale as the early patch of snow lying in the shadows of the bare oak trees around them.

“Danny looks nice in his suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so dressed up,” Beth whispered in Josh’s ear. “But he still reminds me of the Pillsbury Doughboy.” Her eyes danced with mischief.

“And you remind me of my wife, the funniest and prettiest girl in the world.” Josh winked at her, and she blushed. He loved her lack of self-absorption. “I’m glad you’re feeling up to this today.”

She took his hand in hers. “Me too.”

They walked from the shadow of the tall oak grove into the sunlight.

Sometimes it was easy to see where life was heading. At other times, the path disappeared behind a wall of doubt. Perhaps it was good to be reminded occasionally that this life will one day end, because Josh didn’t want to fail to fully enjoy the present. His wife could be taken from him at any moment, and he was determined to enjoy every minute he had with her.

He tried to wipe the negatives from his mind and think about tomorrow’s plans to announce Beth’s pregnancy to their church family. In a few weeks, they would be celebrating the end of her first trimester. A good sign, the doctor had said, that
the baby was tolerating the morphine. No doubt, good things were intermingled with the bad.

“It’s all good.” Beth stopped and turned to him.

“How do you always manage to read my thoughts?”

“You’re too quiet,” she said, pushing a strand of chin length, dark brown hair behind her ear. “I know you. You’re under a lot of stress.” She paused to reflect on something in the distance. “Most of it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that,” she said. “But there’s not much I can do about it.”

“It’s not your—”

“Shhh.” She put her fingers to his lips. “Let’s forget about our problems and try to bring some peace to Danny and his family.”

“I love you,” Josh said. “Nothing could ever change that.”

The church was crowded by the time they found the seat reserved for them up front, near the family. Beth slid to the inside of the bench so Josh would have access to the aisle.

“Good morning.” A well-dressed, older woman greeted Beth as she settled in.

“Hi, I’m Bethany Harrison.”

The woman stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Pamela Morris, a friend of Nell’s.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Beth said. “I didn’t know her, but her son works with my husband.”

Pamela leaned forward to take a look at Josh. “You’re a nice-looking couple.”

Beth felt heat rise in her face. “Thank you.”

“Do you have children?”

“Oh . . . no. Not yet. But we’re expecting our first.” She patted her tummy.

“How exciting, dear!” The woman’s blue eyes sparkled, and then she teared up. “I’m sorry.” She dabbed a tissue to her face. “I know Nell would have loved to meet you. She loved babies. I would expect she’s doting over all of the little ones in Heaven right now.”

“It’s a shame she will never see her grandchildren,” Beth said, nodding toward Danny, who was seated two rows in front of them.

“Her daughter Susan, Danny’s sister, has two. But Nell would have loved to see Danny married with children.”

“How did you know Mrs. Stevens?” Beth asked.

“We met through our volunteer work.”

“That’s nice,” Beth said. She could visualize this beautiful, gray-haired woman looking dapper in a Red Cross smock or delivering food to the elderly. “What kind of volunteer work?”

“Abortion clinic.” Tears welled again in Pamela Morris’s eyes. “Nell and I worked together as street counselors. There are so many young women taken in by the lie that unborn babies are not viable human beings.”

Beth swallowed hard to keep down her lunch.
Dear God, what are you doing to me?

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Morris. I need to find the restroom.”

“It’s through that door and to the right. Are you okay, honey?”

“Just a bit of morning sickness still hanging around.” Beth did her best to smile as she nudged Josh to let her by.

The funeral was inspirational and uplifting. A celebration of a life well lived. Josh wished he had known Danny’s mother
better. No doubt she had played a big role in honing the character of her son. Some of the stories that were related about Mrs. Stevens reminded Josh of his own mom, a woman full of humor as well as faith.

After they had gathered around the grave, Jim Stevens motioned for everyone to move in closer. He would be giving a personal and, most likely, tearful tribute to his wife.

“This is from Proverbs 31,” he said and then cleared his throat, gathering his composure.

“Who can find a virtuous and capable wife?” He began. “She is worth more than precious rubies.” He wiped a tear.

“Her husband can trust her, and she will greatly enrich his life. Her children stand and bless her. Her husband praises her.” His words came in bursts of emotion.

“Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last. But a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.” The Reverend Stevens looked up to the sky and smiled.

“Reward her, Lord, for all she has done. For all she has been. Let her deeds publicly declare her praise.” He wiped his face again, pulled the rose from his lapel, and placed it gently on the casket.

“Amen.”

A few minutes later, the smell of dirt filled Josh’s nostrils. An involuntary twitch spread throughout his body, a shudder that could easily be attributed to the late autumn chill. But he knew better.

He had been here before, standing at a graveside while a broken and questioning man eulogized his wife. This time it was Jim Stevens. Almost two years ago it had been his own father, paying tribute to his wife of thirty-five years.

From all appearances, Danny’s dad had managed to hold onto his convictions, to make peace with them, and to
reconcile his spiritual beliefs with the untimely loss of his wife. But Josh’s father had died in spirit the day he lost his wife.

Samuel Harrison had mustered the strength to see her through to the end. But after she passed away, his trust in God had been shoveled into a four-by-six-foot hole and covered with dust.

Abuzz of activity surrounded Beth as she and Josh prepared to leave their Sunday school classroom. They had announced her pregnancy to the class this morning, and everyone wanted to offer congratulations.

Men slapped Josh on the back and shook his hand. “Good going, man!” Women gushed, giddy with excitement.

Sarah Gilmore grabbed Beth’s neck and squealed. “You’ll be the best mom!”

“I’m so happy for you, hon,” Rachel Monroe drawled.

“Is this your first?” A new member of the class asked Beth.

She shook her head, almost indiscernibly.

“Oh, yes! Isn’t it exciting?” Sarah replied on Beth’s behalf and then added, “Congratulations, Josh. We’re happy for you both.”

Beth glanced sideways to her husband. His face reflected the enthusiasm of the well-wishers. He also seemed to be relaxing more now that he’d had a few days off the road. Beth knew that the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and she could do little to help.

“Are you okay, honey?” Josh grabbed her arm and walked her toward the sanctuary.

“I have a headache, but I’m okay.”

“If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to stay for the service.” His brown eyes entreated.

“I can handle it,” she said halfheartedly, hoping he would pick up on her lack of excitement.

“Great!” Josh opened the door to the main worship area and, placing his hand on the small of her back, ushered her to their usual seat near the front of the large auditorium. They always sat three rows back, to the right of the pulpit, and in front of the piano. It was a habit Josh had formed as a child in his family church. His mom, the church pianist, would finish playing and then sit with her son while Josh’s dad preached the sermon.

Beth scanned the room. Friends, acquaintances, and visitors streamed through the doors on each side of the pulpit platform. Their church was home to a growing fellowship. Young people, singles, married couples with children, recent retirees, and a considerable number of seniors made up the congregation. Gloryland Temple had something for everyone, including a Saturday evening service that catered to those with interest in learning about Messianic worship.