Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel (44 page)

“Don’t look behind you, Classic,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to go where your head points.”

“Okay,” I said. “I don’t need to look behind me anymore.”

“I do. Just for a minute.”

“You’re going to tell me about Joy.”

“I am.” I looked up to see him slitting his eyes sideways at me. “And I want to do it without any interruptions from you.”

“Did you bring duct tape?” I said.

But I pressed my lips together, and I listened. Listened to a story about a man named Jack Ellington who at thirty-five thought he had found the love of his life. She seemed to have found hers, too. They had everything in common. Both lawyers, both loved motorcycles and hiking and places like Red Deer, Alberta. They were married in Colorado after they passed the bar, but soon after, the man named Jack Ellington felt that the wife named Joy was holding something back. He pressed her, and she confessed that she had been married once before, very young, but she hadn’t told him because she wanted Jack to be her first. It was all right again. And then within six months of their marriage Joy received a job offer out of the blue from a firm in central Florida.

I did stop Chief there. “You told me nothing comes out of the blue.”

“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”

He turned again to the moon and the story.

So the man named Jack Ellington took his wife named Joy to Orlando and found a job with a firm doing not-very-satisfying work. The marriage, it seemed, was not very satisfying either, not to Joy. The details were not important. The root of them was. The job had not come out of the blue. She had sought it out, because her first husband lived in central Florida. She didn’t want to be with him again. She simply wanted him to see her with her tall, handsome, accomplished husband so that he would know that he had let go of the best thing that had ever happened to him.

I snagged on that phrase too, but I let it go, let Chief go on.

It all came to an ugly head one day at a Harley rally. Husband number one was there, and Jack Ellington recognized him from pictures he’d found that Joy still kept. He had never begrudged her the past. But he couldn’t be the Band-Aid for it.

“I filed for divorce the next day,” he said. “And I came up here with Stan because I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Why didn’t you go back to Colorado?”

“Because I couldn’t go back to a place where I thought love was real. It was better to be here and be reminded that it wasn’t.”

I looked away from him, to the moonstruck ocean. “And then?”

“Then I found you.”

“But then you thought you were reliving that whole story over again.”

“Classic, I’m sorry—”

“I’m not Joy.”

“I know that. I always knew that. But I had to go see her.”

I turned slowly. “Telling no one where you were going, of course.”

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

“I told her I didn’t hate her anymore.”

“And?”

“She thinks I’m crazy. Never felt more sane.”

“Anything else?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That she’s a shriveled-up chain-smoking attorney two facelifts into her sixties.”

“That’s about it.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?”

Chief turned to me until I could see nothing but a leather chest and the eagle eyes that had the power to take me to the mountaintop with them.

“Forgive me.

“Done.”’

“Marry me.”

“Yes.”

“You sure? What does God say?”

“What’s God saying to you?”

Chief looked down at me, the prekiss look all over his raptor face. “God’s saying we’ll never go far enough.”

“Interesting,” I said. “God’s saying the same thing to me.”

The kiss was almost enough to carry me away from that place. But I was still aware, in the Nudge and the Whisper and the Knowing that made me who I was, that the wretched past lives of the Geneveves and the Tangos would always be behind us, pushing us forward. And that the new Zeldas and Ophelias and Sherrys would always be ahead, waiting for us to offer them a scrap of hope. Some would turn into Mercedes and Jasmines and Flannerys. Others would never know the new lives that beckoned from San Luis Street.

Even as Chief lifted me off my feet and shouted, “Yeah, baby!” in his best Desmond voice, I felt God’s pain for all of them.

But stronger, always stronger, was the Nudge, whispering,
Go another mile, my prophet.

Go another mile.

… a little more …

When a delightful concert comes to an end,

the orchestra might offer an encore.

When a fine meal comes to an end,

it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.

When a great story comes to an end,

we think you may want to linger.

And so, we offer ...

AfterWords—
just a little something more after you

have finished a David C Cook novel.

We invite you to stay awhile in the story.

Thanks for reading!

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• Why St. Augustine?

• More about the Nudge

Why St. Augustine?

I always do a lot of thinking about where I’m going to set a story, especially a series, because I have to live there in my mind for such an extended period of time. I also consider the setting to be a character in itself, so it has to be right for the role. We got to be good friends, St. A. and I (and my husband and my daughter, and my granddaughter …)

¤ I grew up in Jacksonville, Florida, which is just north of St. Augustine, and visited at least once a year for field trips during elementary school, and probably three times that often for out-of-town guests who wanted to see the sights. I never got tired of its history and mystery and artistic appeal. I’m still not.

¤ It is definitely a town with a facade, though. Between the tourist industry and the wealth, both old and new, the place has a strong image to uphold. I didn’t know about the West King Street culture until I took a carriage ride and interviewed the driver about parts of town she never took the tourists to. That made St. A. a perfect metaphorical character.

¤ I spent four different weeks there at different times of the year. Jim and I explored every lane and alley on our Harley and frequented many of the places Allison does. The Spanish Galleon (now closed), the Monk’s Vineyard (still for sale), Georgie’s Diner, The Bunnery, Columbia, the Santa Maria, the F.A. Café, the A1A Crab Shack (now closed), J.T.’s Seafood Shack, the St. Augustine Harley Davidson dealership, the Hot Shot Bakery, 95 Cordova, and O.C. White’s are all real. So much investigative work was tough, but somebody had to do it.

¤ The goal of my first research visit to St. A. was to locate a home for Allison. Found Palm Row the first afternoon and knew she lived there. The house I redecorated in my mind was for sale (and still is as far as I know), and I actually considered setting up a showing with the realtor so I could see the inside, but I couldn’t bring myself to pretend I was in the market. Hank would not have approved. The house took on a life of its own anyway.

¤ Kade’s beach house at Ponte Vedra is also real. My little family and I spent a week there last summer and lived through a major tropical storm. While hubby and daughter were battening down the hatches, I was imagining Desmond and Flannery caught in the wind and driving rain. It was all I could do not to go out there after them. This is why I take people with me when I do research.

One of the saddest things (among many) about finishing this trilogy is that I won’t be going back to St. Augustine as often. When I do, I know that Allison and Chief and Desmond and Hank and the Sacrament Sisters will always be there. I hope the place is as alive to you as it has become for me.

What If You Feel a “Nudge”?

In
Unexpected Dismounts,
India says to Allison,
“Not everybody can bring home a hooker.”
She’s right (in spite of the fact that later she actually does). I myself am not as involved in social justice ministry as Allison is. But I do know about God-Nudges. I think all of us who are paying attention have felt them. The question is what to do about it. Most of us aren’t going to go buy a Harley and start a ministry that has the potential to consume our lives. But all of us can do something, and I’m convinced all of us are called to. So—a few thoughts on what to do when you know you’re being Nudged by God. These are things that have worked in my own experience.

¤ Get some confirmation
. Does it come up in other places, both likely, as in your Bible reading, or unexpected, as in from your teenager? It’s not so much about asking people what they think. It’s about being aware of validation that comes without provocation. Some people call it synchronicity, others name it “out of the blue.” You get the idea.

¤ Then do some internal research.
Intentionally take time to search yourself and ask, “What’s my motivation? Guilt? Maybe a chance to get some recognition? Or something deeper, more real?” I like journaling for that, but if you’d rather be shot than write in a diary, long walks, horseback rides, and drives in the country work just as well. I spent a lot of time on the back of our Harley before I accepted the call to write a trilogy on things I knew absolutely nothing about.

¤ Count the cost.
That isn’t hedging. Jesus himself told us to do that before we make a commitment. Just about any significant Nudge is going to require some sacrifice. Maybe not giving up your spare room to a prostitute (or two), but probably some time, a little cash, an old way of thinking. Consider, too, the effect obeying a Nudge is going to have on your relationships. It’s okay to discuss all that with God.

¤ Find out what’s already being done in that area.
If you’re Nudged to tutor homeless kids, you don’t necessarily have to set up your own shop downtown; it’s just as obedient to volunteer with a program that’s already up and running.

¤ Start small.
Even Allison just took on one woman (and her kid), with the intention of getting them quickly back on their feet. That would have been huge in itself. One small step could be all you need to do, or it could be the beginning of many. Too many people, however, have burned out quickly because they tried to do too much too soon. God’s good at only giving us so much to do at a time.

¤ Keep balance in your life.
Allison wasn’t as good at that as I wanted her to be. Bonner, India, Chief, and Hank were constantly reminding her to take some time to rest and enjoy. Guilt can make you feel like you can’t do that because the people you’re serving don’t have that “luxury.” I try to keep this old adage in mind: “If the Devil can’t make you bad, he’ll make you busy.”

¤ Continually check in with God.
My own quiet time is a sacred ritual of asking questions. How am I doing? Am I on the track you want me on? Am I making it about me instead of you? Am I really helping or am I just doing? God gives the Nudge in the first place so it only makes sense to let God guide us as we edge forward.

If you’d like to be in community with other people who are Nudgees, you’re welcome to join us on “The Nudge” a (mostly) weekly blog, which you can find at
http://tweenyouandme.typepad.com/the_nudge
.