The Lost Truth (5 page)

“Come on.”

Taking a drink of my soda, I looked over at him. “You
usually
talk a lot,
which comes across as a bit shallow on the thinking side.”

“I don’t talk
that
much.”

Looking back at the water, I said, “Why’d you decide to marry her?”

“I love her.” Confidence radiated from his words as he said it.

“But you loved her before yesterday happened.”

“True.” Hesitation to continue crept on his face as he ran his fingers through his hair. He looked nervous. “Janice is very important to me, and I’ve wanted to marry her for a while, but . . . it just became
the way it is
and then I stopped thinking about it.” He looked over at me. “I love my bachelor pad life, but on the other hand, I love her. I’m just. Just . . .”

“Scared?” I finished his sentence for him.

“Yeah,” he replied. “That’s exactly it. I don’t want to become the
husband
. The guy who unclogs the bath tub and watches kids on Saturday morning while clutching a cup of coffee, hoping it kicks in before the kids drive me nuts. That whole cliché, stupid kind of life doesn’t sound
entirely
great.”

I shook my head. “Why are you marrying her then? You know she wants kids.”

“Remember earlier when I was asked about signs?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I think I might have had one. My beliefs in God are not exactly deep, but I think He was trying to tell me something.”

Raising my eyebrows, I encouraged him to continue. It wasn’t like there were any fish to be had in this spot of the lake. Doubt began creeping in on me about two things. One—that he was as good a fisherman as he claimed to be, and two—that this was
just
a fishing trip. Paul was beginning to reveal a different part of himself that I had never met. I wasn’t sure what my crippled self could offer for sound advice, but it was more entertaining than wasting the day away at home, drowning my sorrows.

“The other day, I was at the grocery store purchasing some food. Just, you know, getting groceries.”

“Okay.”

“So there I was, picking out creamer. I’m a French vanilla kind of guy, but I get the sugar-free kind. I’m trying to watch what I take in.”

I remained silent.

“Anyway. This guy came up and opened the refrigerator door to grab a gallon of milk. Seemed fine. Ya know?” His tone got nervous. “I glanced over at him and tipped a courteous nod, and he reciprocated. Returning to my business, I thought nothing about it. But then suddenly, as the guy was walking away, he dropped dead.”

My eyes shot open. “What? He died?”

“Yeah! The gallon of milk went crashing to the floor, and so did he. The paramedics said he had a brain aneurism. He died in the grocery store getting a gallon of milk! While I waited for the paramedics to arrive, I noticed something. A ring. Then I started thinking that he probably had a wife and kids at home. He was there for them . . . and something just clicked, Clay. He was going to be missed. He meant something to this world. Maybe not to a whole lot of people, but he did to those that mattered to him—his family.”

When Paul stopped to let me reply, my mind felt like it had just spilled out like that gallon of milk that he had seen crash to the floor. “Deep, Paul.”

He nodded. “I want to be someone, Clay.” He shrugged and peered across the lake. “Sure, I love my life and not finding hair on every square inch of my bathroom, but I know it’d be worth it.” His eyes glowed with passion and hopefulness that I once held in my own heart many years ago.

My youth and the love I once held in my heart for Gail blinded me from the realities and hardships of life. It didn’t reveal to me the truth about her or about the way the world really was. That love lied to me and painted a life and future that wasn’t real.

“Hope everything works out.” My attempts to conceal my angst about love were futile. My tone gave me away, and Paul’s face twisted into a look of concern.

“
Hope?
” he asked. “Why wouldn’t it work out? Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

I laughed. “My wife left me, and I’m living with my sister at the age of forty-two. I’m not exactly the person who should be doling out advice. But, for whatever it’s worth, in my experience, life has a way of taking our plans and kicking ‘em in the face.”

He shook his head and put his hand on my arm.
Why’s he touching me?
I wondered as my eyes looked at his hand and I pulled my arm away from him.

“You’ve been through a lot, Clay. You’ve been to hell and back.”

“No. You’re mistaken. I haven’t come back yet.” My eyes shifted out to the water, and I said, “This trip had nothing to do with fishing.”

“No.” he admitted, dipping his chin to his chest.

I sighed and grabbed my shirt and began putting it on. “Explains why we didn’t catch a single fish.”

Paul stood up and began putting his shirt and shoes back on. “This spot was a place my dad used to bring me. It was good for fishing twenty years ago.”

“Guess time has a way of changing things we once understood to be true.”

“That’s wise, man. You’re so smart, Clay.”

Furrowing my eyebrows over at him as I slipped my shoes on, I said, “Just means there’s no fish here, ya goof!” As I let out a laugh, I realized that I was starting to like this guy. Spending time out on this slab of rock might have been lackluster in the fish catching department, but it was nice to have genuine conversation, and the water took my thirst for alcohol away.

T
he next morning, after I took a shower, I snagged my coffee cup from the coffee table and went into the kitchen to get a refill. Looking out the window that stretched above the sink, I saw one of Mr. Kilgore’s cats, the calico, coming into my sister’s property from the field. Thinking about Kip on the porch, my pulse began to race. Setting my cup down on the counter, I hurried out to the back porch as quickly as I could.

Glancing over at Kip’s laundry hamper, I saw he was still in there. Hurrying with a slight gimp to my step as pain shot down my side, I went down the porch steps and out into the grass. As I headed toward the cat in the yard, it suddenly became aware of my presence. Like a deer jumping at the sound of a shotgun, it took off back into the field toward Mr. Kilgore’s big red barn that sat on the opposite side.

Mr. Kilgore had a dozen or so barn cats that would roam the field that separated us. Frequently, they’d hunt for field mice and other critters they could sink their teeth into. The thought of one of them landing their dirty paws on poor little Kip worried me. He wouldn’t stand a chance against those hunters of the field.

Once the cat was out of sight, I came back over to the porch and to Kip. Pulling up the hamper, I scooped Kip into my hands and brought him to my chest.
Maybe he’s ready.

As I took him down to the grass, I asked, “How you doing, little bud?” He tried to wiggle around in my hands. “Here you go.” I lowered him down into the grass and let him hop from my palms.

He moved a little, flapping his good wing. The other one still seemed to be hurt, and he struggled to move.

Lifting my eyes to the field, I could see the backs of the cats as they roamed to and fro, seeking their next victims. Looking back at Kip, I told him, “We need to get you a better cage.”

Watching as he hopped around the yard, I smiled. That bird wanted to fly more than anything else in his life.
What if I had that kind of determination for life?

“Clay?” a woman’s voice startled me.

Turning toward the sound of my name, I saw a woman come around the corner of the house and toward me. She had blonde hair that was up in a tightly woven bun. She was easy on the eyes, but looked as if she would cut you if you said something wrong. The woman carried herself with confidence and her chin held high. My mind jumped around trying to place her, but I couldn’t.

“Who’s asking?” I replied, worried it was a bill collector. They had been becoming more aggressive in recent months about collecting the debts I owed for the surgeries from the accident.

She came over to me with an extended hand. “I’m Katie.”

“Oh. Katie. John mentioned he was going to try to get me your help.” I shook her hand. “It’s been a while! I haven’t seen you since you were playing tea party with your dolls and teddy bears.”

She laughed and replied, “I haven’t seen you since you were trying to force me to eat grasshoppers and lick dirt.”

I smiled as we released our handshake. “Did I do that? I don’t think I did.”

Her lips pursed for a moment and she nodded. “You sure did.”

Rubbing the back of my neck, I let my other hand swing out. “Sorry about that.”

She looked past me and at the grass. “What’s up with the bird?”

Turning around, I smiled as I saw Kip trying to climb up a twig that was lying in the grass. “That’s Kip. I found him injured a few days back, and I’m trying to help him get back to the sky, where he belongs.”

“Awe . . . that’s so sweet!”

Turning my eyes back to her, I shook my head. “Any decent person would do it.”

A moment of silence fell between us as we watched Kip leap from the branch and tumble down into the grass below. He’d fall, go back up the branch and then jump again.

“So close!” Katie exclaimed.

Nodding, I walked over to Kip with Katie and scooped him up into my hands. She followed behind me as I took him back to the porch. As I set him under the hamper, I asked over my shoulder, “So what’s the plan? Or did you just come to see Kip try to fly?”

She smiled at me as I stood up and turned around. “Can we go inside? And we can talk about it?”

Nodding, I led her into the house and into the kitchen. As we sat down at the table, I could smell the perfume she was wearing and it was intoxicating to my senses. Between that, the good looks, and ocean blue eyes that drew me in, I didn’t understand the lack of a ring on her wedding finger.

She shuffled some papers around. “You were at Saint Jude’s . . . but it looks like you didn’t complete it?” Katie looked up at me with raised eyebrows. “What happened there?”

Letting out a laugh under my breath, I shifted my eyes to the outside through the window. “Lots.”

“Okay. Why’d you leave?”

“I was kicked out. I didn’t leave. In fact, I was doing everything I was supposed to be doing.”

Setting the papers down, she brought her hands together on the table in front of her. In a soft voice, she asked firmly, “Why’d they kick you out, Clay?”

“It didn’t work out.”

“I need you to be honest with me. If you’re going to get better, I need your full cooperation. I know you don’t know me anymore, but you have to trust me.”

Furrowing my eyebrows, I narrowed my look on her for a moment. She looked at me. “I didn’t care about getting better. They cut me free because they didn’t want to waste any more time on me.”

“All right.” Her eyes went back to the papers, and she shuffled through them more. “I think you have a good shot if my predictions are correct. You’ll have to do a lot, but it’s going to get you going in the right direction.”

“What exactly do I have to do?”

“You’ll be eating, drinking and exercising properly. There won’t be any more booze, bad food—”

Holding a hand up, I shook my head. “Wait. You’re a nurse. You were supposed to help my pain go away, not change my whole life.”

She nodded. “It’s an all or nothing kind of thing. If you want to heal, you have to treat your body well.”

My jaw clenched as I glanced over at the freezer. I shook my head again. “I . . . I didn’t realize that—”

Immediately, she stood up and extended her hand. “It was nice seeing you again, Clay.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Just like that?” Standing up, I placed one hand on the table to help take pressure off my leg as I felt a surge of pain. Katie’s eyes fixated on my leg and then looked up at me.

“Yeah. I have too much going on in my life to even do this . . . I’m surely not going to attempt to convince you to get better. I can help you get better, but just like Saint Jude’s . . . I need you to want it.” She dropped her hand to her side, took her papers from the table, and walked toward the front door.

Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she left.

Going over to the phone on the wall in the kitchen, I called the church to speak to John. As the phone rang, I thought about how I could articulate what I was going to say. He needed to understand that I wasn’t just going to give up drinking and magically float back down to the church, and everything would just be the same as it used to be. There was a lot that I wasn’t just going to
get over
by getting my ability to walk without pain back. There was more than he could ever understand.

When the phone went to voice mail, I slammed the phone onto the hook.

That evening, as the sun was beginning to set across the horizon, I sat on the back porch as I waited for my sister to arrive home. She had phoned me earlier in the afternoon to let me know she was bringing chicken home for dinner. That was still a few hours away.

With my bottle of whiskey clutched in one hand while the other propped my head up as it was pressed against the arm of the chair, I watched as the light breeze pushed against the tops of the grass in the field. It was a calm summer evening, and the temperature couldn’t have been better. Not hot, not cold, just perfect.

The phone rang inside on the kitchen wall, and I sighed, knowing how painful the walk would be. My leg had been bothering me more that day. There were good days and bad days. This was a bad one. With a grunt, I set the bottle of whiskey down on the patio table and got out of my chair.

Surprisingly, I made it to the phone before whoever it was gave up.

“Hello?” I answered, leaning my head against the inside of my arm as it pressed against the wall. My eyes were closed as I felt dizzy.

“Who do you think you are?” John shouted at me.

“Start over,” I said in a soft tone.

“Clay Roberts! I have known you for a long time, and I’m calling you out. This is utter garbage, the way you are acting! Be a man and get your act together.”

Blinking my eyes open, I furrowed my eyebrows and raised my head. “Thanks,
John,
for giving me a heads up about Katie coming over here. You sent her here without warning and failed to mention to me that she’d want me to stop drinking!”

“You know the truth. You have the faith. And you already know you’ll never find the peace you want outside of Jesus.”

My anger began to boil and rise through me. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen. Haven’t been where I’ve been,” I retorted. “I’m in hell right now, John. Gail’s gone, Missy’s dead, and I haven’t seen my daughter in months!” I shouted as I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.

“Missy didn’t die because I’m a coward. I have a wife and family, Clay! Just like you used to! But you screwed it all up when you decided in the trailer park to—”

Taking the phone, I began to smash it into the wall, making a hole. Pieces of plastic went flying, and I released the mangled mess and it dropped onto the floor. I walked away and back out to the porch.

My lips pursed, and I looked over at the bottle as my anger and pain inside reached up into my throat and clenched it with an unbearable force. Going over to the bottle, I unscrewed the cap and began downing it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the calico cat inching its way back into the grass from the field. I became furious as I finished the last of the whiskey in the bottle. Cocking my arm back with the bottle in hand, I stepped back and aimed for the cat over in the grass. As hard as I could, I threw it. Stumbling forward, I face planted into the porch.

Everything went dark.