You Don't Know About Me (13 page)

“Punishment for what?”

“For me craving an Elmo toy. For idol worship. For putting another god before the One True God. Which made me think of another question. When you sin, why doesn't God punish you in private? Why does He make other people suffer too?”

“Did you get an answer?”

“Yep. The best punishment for your sins is making you watch innocent people suffer for your sins too.”

“Tough answer. Did you believe it?”

“Not really. I guess that's when I took my first walk on the doubt side. I mean, why does God have to be so cruel? Why does the wrathful Old Testament God keep showing up after He sent Jesus with the new covenant? Maybe that's how God planned it all along. I mean, maybe it's like a good cop, bad cop thing. The Heavenly Father plays bad cop, His Son plays good cop.”

Ruah lifted his sunglasses and looked at me. He stared long enough to make me think that he was going to run off the road. He finally looked away. “Anyone ever say you're wise beyond your years?”

I laughed. “Maybe I know the Bible, and a bunch about mountain biking, but that's about it.”

“Hey, having Bible cred and biking cred could be a great combo,” he said. “You could ride around the world and become famous as the Mountain Biking Missionary.”

I knew he was kidding, but I liked the picture it put in my head. I could be the first to ride to the top of Mount Everest and convert all the Sherpas on the way.

I watched the heat mirages shimmering on the road ahead. The pavement kept rising from the silver, like God was rolling out a carpet to Colorado for me. I wanted to look at my GPS and see the miles tick down, or at least pull out the new
Huck Finn
chapters and find out what happened to Huck and Jim after they jumped on the raft and headed down the Mississippi. But Ruah would've started asking questions I didn't want to answer. To stick to my story about seeing my sick dad, I had to keep my GPS and the
Huck
pages out of sight.

How far he was driving west, I didn't know. But I did ask if he planned to cut back north to the interstate. He said we were making good time on Route 4, and there were no speed traps because all the troopers were up on I-70, where the traffic was.

When we were west of Scott City, Ruah pulled out his cell phone. “I've got bars. Your mom's gotta have a phone by now.”

I dialed 411. This time, there was a listing in Independence. As it dialed through I reminded myself of what I'd put in my note to her. I was going to New Orleans.

“Hello,” she answered.

I could hear the strain in her voice. “Hi, Mom.”

“Praise God! Are you alright?”

I was glad she didn't start crying right off. “I'm fine, Mom. Did you get my note?”

“Why are you doing this?”

I guess that meant she got the note, or someone had read it to her. “Did the police come to see you?”

“Yes,” she said sternly. “I told them you got off the bus to come home.” I could see her, ramrod straight, telling the world how things should be. “I told them you're not a runaway.”

“You're right, Mom, I'm not.”

“So you're coming home?” Her voice got billowy with hope.

I felt bad that I'd misled her. “No—I mean, yes, after I see where my father lived. I'm gonna find out about Richard Allbright.” As soon as I said it I realized that the truth didn't fit the story I'd been giving Ruah. I glanced over. He was still staring straight ahead.

Mom's voice, with the iron back in it, jumped in my ear. “I can tell you everything you need to know about him.”

“You had your chance, Mom. You gave me a bunch of lies.”

She fired scripture.
“You are of your father the devil, and you want to do the desires of your father. There is no truth in him
.
”

It pissed me off that she, the lying sinner, was throwing scripture at me. “There was enough truth in him to let
your
desires out,” I shot back. “That's why I'm here!”

She went silent. I thought she'd hung up. I snuck another look at Ruah. He kept staring at the road. He was either trying to give me privacy or not wanting to listen. I couldn't blame him. I didn't want to hear any of it either.

The sound of a muffled sob came through the phone. “God is punishing me.”

“I don't wanna fight, Mom.”

“Neither do I. Please, come home, Billy.”

“I can't.” I quickly added, “I mean, I can, but I'm not coming back yet.”

She sucked in another sob. “What if you don't come back?”

“You've always trusted God to protect us. You gotta trust Him now.”

That broke the lock on her tears. Between sobs, I told her I loved her, said goodbye, and closed the phone.

We rode in silence until Ruah said, “So your father's already dead.”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

We didn't say anything after that. It was fine by me. I had thinking to do. Something Mom said kept bugging me. I couldn't figure why she hadn't told the police that I was a runaway. Maybe she'd really believed I'd gotten off the bus to come home. But now that she knew I wasn't coming home, she would call the police and tell them I was headed to New Orleans. That was fine. They could look for me in New Orleans all they wanted.

To keep from worrying about stuff I counted cars on a
coal train heading east. But it's hard not to worry when the sun begins to set, you're riding in a stranger's camper, and you're wondering where you're going to spend the night.

When we got to the main intersection in Scott City, Ruah turned north. “There's a campground up ahead in a state park,” he said. “I'm stopping there for the night. You're welcome to camp with me if you want. My PB&J is decent, but my real specialty is barista burgers.”

I wasn't sure what to say. I felt like I was wearing out my welcome. Especially after he had to listen to me and Mom fight. “What's a barista burger?”

He shrugged. “You'll have to go camping to find out.”

“Alright,” I said. “A barista burger sounds good. Thank you.”

He chuckled. “Don't thank me till you've tasted it.”

“I mean thanks for giving me a ride almost all the way across Kansas.”

He shot me a quick smile. “Just helpin' a mountain biking missionary who's lost his bike.”

Lake Scott State Park was filled with RVs and tents. We found a spot in a cottonwood grove. Ruah made dinner in the camper while I collected kindling for a fire. He gave me money to buy firewood at the park store. I used the money from the geocache to buy a sleeping bag and some cargo shorts. It also gave me the chance to check my GPS device. I was 171 miles from St. Petersburg, and the compass arrow was pointing northwest.

We ate inside the camper at the dinerlike table. Ruah's barista burger wasn't like any cheeseburger I'd ever had. It
was spiced up with garlic, onion, soy sauce, ginger, and even honey. It was really good, especially dipped in ketchup.

During dinner, I asked him about one of my worries. “Is there any way my mom could find out where I called her from? Or that it was your phone?”

He wiped mustard off his mouth. “It's not my phone. I borrowed it from a friend in Cincinnati. And it's not easy tracing a mobile call to where it was made from, even for the police.”

I relaxed. Even if they traced the call to the phone number in Cincinnati, it was the wrong direction. “Why are you using a friend's phone?”

“If I were to use my own cell, there'd be people with access to my call history. I'm trying to cover my tracks, just like you. I don't want the Cincinnati Reds coming after me, and you don't want your mom and the cops coming after you, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I'm not sure she told anyone I ran away.” I explained how she'd told the police I was coming home and insisted I wasn't a runaway.

He took a bite of salad. “From what I've heard about your mother, she might not want the cops digging into her past. It sounds like she might have unfinished business with a few judges. Has she ever decided not to show up in court?”

I chuckled around a bite of burger. “Oh, yeah.”

“Having outstanding warrants would make it risky filling out a missing person's report. Which means you're probably not officially missing.”

“So I won't be showing up on any milk cartons.”

“Right.”

As I helped clean up, I thanked Ruah for the great burger and told him I'd start hitching for Colorado in the morning.

“You headed northwest or southwest?” he asked.

“Northwest.”

He didn't say which way he would be going; I didn't ask. He'd taken me halfway across Missouri and almost across Kansas. If God kept tossing me such good luck, I'd get to St. Petersburg the next day.

After dark, we hung out and watched the campfire shoot spark fireworks. A man strolled toward us. I didn't know if there were rules about walking into people's campsites. It was my first time camping.

The man was black, looked about sixty, and had a friendly face. He stopped near the fire. “Evening.”

Ruah nodded. “Yes, it is.”

I wasn't sure if he was making a joke, or trying to be rude so the man would leave. As they talked about the weather, the man studied Ruah. Ruah wore his cowboy hat, but the fire lit up his face. I knew what was coming.

“You look familiar,” the man said. “I know you from somewhere. Or I've seen you on TV.”

“TV,” I said, speaking for the first time.

“Say what?” he said.

“You've seen him on TV.” Ruah shot me a dirty look.
“He's an assistant pastor at the Feast of Faith Church in Missouri. Our services are on TV and people see 'em all over the Midwest.”

“Is that right?” The man seemed to buy it.

“Yes, sir.” Ruah nodded in my direction. “He's exaggerating, but folks recognize me now and then.”

The man jabbed a thumb back toward the camper. “I see your plates are from Pennsylvania. That's a long way from Missouri.”

“It's a rental,” Ruah said. “I didn't check the plates when I drove it off the lot. But thanks for letting me know.”

If he was hinting that the conversation was over, the man wasn't taking it. “What brings you out this way?” he asked.

I jumped in again. “We're going to Denver for a Bible bee. I made the nationals, and Pastor Sloan is taking me there.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ruah purse his lips. I didn't know if he was going to spit or start laughing.

“What's a Bible bee?” the man asked.

Him not knowing about Bible bees was good. Maybe I could scripture him to death till he left. “It's like a spelling bee, but all the questions are based on one book in the Bible.”

“So you're a Bible whiz kid?”

I gave him a big stupid grin. “If I win, yeah.”

“And he will,” Ruah added, getting in on the story. “I'm coaching him all the way to Denver. We even gave the RV a biblical name to let the Lord know we mean business.”

I had no clue where he was going.

“Really?” the man said. “What'd you name it?”

“Giff.”

I knew he'd gone too far. There's no
Giff
in the Bible.

“Gift? I've never heard of Gift,” said the man. “Unless you mean the gift of the Magi.”

“No, that's ‘gift.' ” Ruah pointed at his camper. “This is
Giff
. It's short for G.F.”

“What's G.F.?”

“Even shorter for”—he raised his hands and air-quoted—“the great fish.”

I finally got where he was going. “You know,” I said, jumping in, “the great fish from the book of Jonah.”

The man rocked back with a laugh of recognition. “You mean the whale that swallowed Jonah.”

“Actually, there's no whale in the Bible,” Ruah said with a sour face that even had me believing he was a pastor. “A whale swallowed
Pinocchio
. The Good Book never says anything about a whale. Jonah was swallowed by a great fish.”

The man raised a hand. “Alright, I 'preciate the catechism. But why name your RV after the fish that swallowed Jonah?”

Ruah flashed a quick smile. “Because we're sailing along in its belly just like Jonah.”

“We even think it looks like a fish,” I added. And we could have. I mean, the camper kind of looked like a big albino catfish with one whisker, the antenna.

The man squinted at the RV. “If that's the great fish”—he looked back at the two of us—“which one of you is Jonah?”

Ruah jabbed a finger at me. “God called him, just like God called Jonah to preach to the city of Nineveh. But this young man is gonna deliver the Word to the National Bible Bee in Denver.”

Firelight flickered on the man's dissatisfied expression. “I'm no Bible expert, but wasn't the great fish taking Jonah
away
from Nineveh, and
away
from his calling. Your great fish, Giff, is taking you
to
Denver,
to
your calling.”

“You're right,” I told him. “At first the fish was taking Jonah away. But Jonah repents, gets right with God, and then the Bible says,
And Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land
. For all we know the fish hurled Jonah right next to Nineveh.” I got out of my camp chair. “I can get my King James and check it if you want.”

The man waved his hands. “No, I believe you.” His face eased into a smile as he turned to Ruah. “Reverend, looks like you got yourself a champ. Good luck, and good evening.”

“Evening,” Ruah said with a friendly nod.

As the man walked away, I sat down and stared at the fire. I didn't dare look at Ruah. I would've cracked up.