The Road to Mercy (13 page)

On the rare occasions when Josh was home on Saturdays, he and Beth would attend the Messianic service and then return for the regular worship the next morning. They had met Alex, not yet their neighbor at the time, at the Saturday evening service.

Alex had been born into a Jewish home and converted to Christianity in college, and she had taught Beth a lot about the traditional Jewish faith and lifestyle. They had baked
challah
, a sweet, braided egg bread; decorated Alex’s house for
Hanukkah; and stayed up all night studying the Old Testament on
Shavuot
.

Beth enjoyed the celebration of Christ through the old sanctities, but it was the old-fashioned, Sunday morning service that kept her centered on a Christian journey.

Despite the disparity in size—Gloryland Temple was much larger—something about it reminded Beth of her grandparent’s small, country church in Southern Illinois. It was at their church she had made a childlike commitment to Christ when she was in junior high.

The choir doors opened, bringing Beth back to the present. Dozens of men and women dressed in flowing purple robes filed into the loft directly behind the pulpit. Josh reached for her hand, helping Beth to her feet. She leaned into his embrace during the opening prayer and Scripture reading. They sang two hymns before the congregation was seated.

Beth sat in awe while the choir performed a stirring rendition of “Amazing Grace.” The lyrics washed over her with a sweetness that calmed her tired soul, even easing her headache. She found solace in the great, old hymns, and this was one of her favorites. She pulled a tissue from her handbag and wiped her eyes. How much better could the salvation experience be expressed?

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see.

After the choral presentation, Pastor Brandon stepped up to the podium. His message today was on Christian living. “In Matthew 10:21, we are told that brother shall deliver up the brother to death, and father the child. When we look around our world today, we don’t have to look far to see that Jesus was
right.” Pastor Brandon’s eyes swept the room. “These things are prevalent, even in our own neighborhood.

“Perhaps the best—and worst—example is the abortion-on-demand thinking in our society.” He paused and shook his head. “Mother turning against child. Does it get more hideous than that?”

A familiar rush of guilt swept through Beth. When the minister looked in her direction, she decided to take a bathroom break. Before she could excuse herself, Josh reached for her hand, placed it on his thigh, and covered it with his warm palm.

Feeling like a wanted poster tacked to the post office wall, Beth calculated mentally the bounty on her head. It was there for the taking by the first person to expose the truth about her life. Josh squeezed her hand. Her heart went out to him. Her near-perfect husband had no idea about the sin she struggled to put behind her.

During the closing song, he whispered in her ear. “Let’s go forward to ask for prayer for your healing and the baby.” His eyes glistened with moisture from the anointing of the service. She nodded, with no real reason to decline.

The minister gave the closing invitation, and Josh led her to the front of the auditorium, where they knelt in front of the massive acacia wood altar. It had been carved to represent the ancient Jewish Ark of the Covenant. Draped with a cloth of purple velvet, the great table was adorned with gold-colored candlesticks and a ceremonial, leather-bound Bible.

Josh whispered into Pastor Brandon’s ear, and he smiled at Beth. After the final verse of “Just as I Am,” the minister waved his hands in the air to quiet the congregation.

“Everyone, please be seated. We have a special request this morning.” The pastor urged Josh and Beth to stand close to him. “Two of our special young people, Josh and Bethany
Harrison, have asked for your prayers. Many of you know about Bethany’s recent illness, but I am happy to also announce, for those of you who don’t know, that Josh and Bethany are expecting their first child.”

The congregation applauded, and the pastor clasped Josh and Beth’s hands in his as a few of the elders gathered around.

“Please join me in prayer for the Harrisons and their unborn child.”

During the prayer, many of the church membership murmured in the background.

“Yes, Jesus”

“Thank you, Lord.”

In closing, Pastor Brandon proclaimed, “And everyone said . . .”

“Amen.” The congregation recited in unison.

Within a few minutes, more than half of the four hundred or so in attendance surrounded Beth and Josh. Each person offered his or her best wishes, a hug, or a commitment to pray for her pregnancy.

“Children are not an accident,” one elderly woman told her. “You have been truly blessed.”

Beth rolled her weary body into a fetal position, curling up in the corner of the small, blue-tiled shower stall.

Liar. Deceiver. Who do you think you are? Forgiven? A good Christian? I don’t think so. You’re a fraud
.

She rocked back and forth as the water poured down on her. Despite the powerful stream, no soap, no scrubbing, and no amount of convincing would make her feel presentable. It was impossible to clean the inside, the dirty part.

She had allowed herself to believe a lie for all of these years. Perhaps God could forgive her, but she would never forgive herself. The steaming hot liquid ran down her face, stinging with its accusations.
God may love you, but he can’t like you very much. How could he? You’ve lied to Josh since you met him
.

No, I haven’t.

Ah, but deceit is the same thing as lying. When he finds out what you’ve done, he will leave you. You might as well get it over now. Make plans for your future. Alone
.

I’ll tell him soon. He’ll understand.

Even if he does, your baby will suffer for what you’ve done
.

But that’s not fair.

Not fair? Are you kidding? An eye for an eye
.

I’ve already repented for that . . . many times over. God has forgiven me.

Why should God show you mercy? You put your own child to death. You must be punished. Baby killer
.

Liar.

No . . . you’re the dirty, rotten liar, woman
.

She held her hands over her ears to shut out the sound.

“Bethany. Bethany. Beth-a-ny!”

Josh called to her.

She wiped the water from her face. He must not see that she had been crying again. At this point, he had reason enough to question her sanity. The pills. The emotional tirades. And now, a total breakdown in the shower.

I can’t eat this.” Beth pushed her plate of stir-fried vegetables away.

“What’s wrong?” Alex gave her a sideways glance before opening the refrigerator door and reaching for a bottle of spring water. “You need to drink more water too. You didn’t finish your second liter yesterday.”

“I go to the bathroom enough the way it is. I’m sick of it!” Beth protested.

“You’re not in a good mood today, are you?” Alex plopped the bottle of water on the table and took a seat on the bench opposite Beth.

“My mood is fine, you’re the one with the prob—” Beth stopped midsentence, remembering her manners and how much Alex had done for her. “I’m sorry. I am in a bad mood. If my head doesn’t hurt, I have no energy. Or I’m dizzy. It’s one thing after another. I’m tired of being on this medication.”

“Let’s do something to take your mind off the bad stuff. I saw a neat project idea in one of those parenting magazines when I was waiting for you at the doctor’s office the other day.”

“What kind of silly project?”

“You document your weekly baby progress through photos. You can send them to Josh and use them for your baby book.”

Beth stared at her caregiver. Well-meaning or not, she could sometimes be irritating. “No, thanks. Remember those nude photos of Demi Moore on the cover of
Vanity Fair
? I don’t want to go there.”

“No, silly. Not nude. You would wear your workout leotard.”

“You’re truly unrelenting,” Beth said, trying to work up a speck of excitement about the idea. “Tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you. If I do it, I can have a glass of chocolate milk and Doritos for lunch instead of this health food.”

“You drive a hard bargain. But chocolate milk does have calcium.” Alex threw her hands in the air in mock indignation. “So much for my nutritional counseling.”

After lunch, Alex began setting up photo equipment in the freshly painted nursery, and Beth retreated to the bedroom to find a black leotard. It took a few extra tugs, but she managed to make one fit.

Glancing at her profile in the mirror as she left the room prompted a heavy sigh. She had already started to gain weight. But she could see a small baby bump. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine. This baby was real.

Thank you, Lord
.

“Your black outfit will contrast perfectly with these pastel walls,” Alex told Beth when she walked into the nursery. “Stand over here, next to the window, so I can get natural lighting on your face.” Alex nudged Beth by the shoulders and placed her where she wanted her.

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being such a good friend,” Beth said, giving Alex a spontaneous hug. “I know this isn’t easy for you, giving up eight months of your life.”

“You’re paying me. . . .”

“Not what you deserve. You’re neglecting your artwork so you can stay with me.”

“Bethany, these eight months will go quickly for you, for me, and for the baby. I’m excited to be enjoying it with you.” She smiled mischievously. “Besides, this is going to be a real artsy shot. I may have to ask permission to put it in my portfolio.”

The roads were clear on the way to Detroit. The Triumphant Tour concluded tonight at the Joe Louis Arena. More than twenty thousand fans would be packed into the venue to listen to five hours of praise and worship songs from five separate acts, the two headliners and three opening acts, which included Josh. It would be a spectacular ending to the seven-month tour, which had grossed more than fifty million dollars in ticket sales alone. That figure didn’t count merchandise sales, a sizable amount on its own. The average artist sold at least ten dollars a head each night.

Josh’s portion was miniscule compared to the star bands. But he couldn’t complain. He was earning a decent living. Entertainers usually made more money selling merchandise than they received in record sales or even performance fees. Unfortunately, his merchandise income had been down for the last two months. And he needed every penny to make up for the loss of Beth’s salary.

She had taken a leave of absence from Bradford Associates, but Josh hoped it would be permanent. Although they missed her income, he saw it as a good exercise in streamlining their
lifestyle. After the medical bills were paid, and they didn’t have the extra expense of Alex’s salary, they should be able to afford for Beth to stay at home with the baby—at least for a while.

They wouldn’t be able to fix up the house like they had originally planned. But they already had the basics, except for nursery furniture. Beth had promised to shop at outlet stores and garage sales for furniture while he was away. He had managed to get the room painted during his Thanksgiving break.

He would be on the road now almost straight through Christmas. God had blessed him with an opening slot on another tour, which would provide an additional twenty days of income this year. He had almost turned it down six months ago, thinking he would enjoy having that time to relax. He made the decision to accept it for the sake of his employees. His band and crew were paid a day rate rather than a salary, so being off for a month at the end of the year would make it hard on them and their families. As it turned out, it had been a blessing for him too.

The familiar ping of a message-waiting alert urged Josh to check his inbox. It was an e-mail from Beth. He skimmed the four or five sentences to make sure she was okay, and then he reread each word. Just knowing her day was going well brightened his.