Almost Heaven (24 page)

“This kind of venture doesn't happen on its own. You have to have funds to run a radio station. Pay your bills. I imagine the electric bill alone is off the charts.”

“Doesn't cost that much more.”

“The transmitter has to pull a lot of electricity. Where'd you get it?”

“Built it myself. Used a filing cabinet and took the drawers out and cut a hole for the door. You can find the tubes pretty easy because people throw a lot of that stuff out. But the transformer is the hardest part.”

“You have enough money coming in each month?”

“I have sponsors.”

“Not what I heard. People around town say most of them have dropped off.”

“Every business goes through ups and downs.”

“True. But when times get tight, it's good to have advertisers who are there to take you through, wouldn't you say?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, if you won't work us into your rotation or play us in the morning, maybe we can work out some kind of sponsorship. I'll sponsor a section of music during a daypart and you can just drop in a song or two. You could say the following set of music is sponsored by the Gospel Bluegrass Boys. And then backsell it and maybe mention where people can buy the latest album.”

I shook my head. “I don't think so.”

He stepped closer. “Billy, I'm offering you hard cash. I'll pay you $1,000 for an hour-long special that uses our music. You can choose whatever songs you want. Now surely you could use $1,000 to pay some bills.”

I shook my head. “I don't care how much you fill the blank with, it's not worth it. I have to keep my integrity.”

“Your integrity? What's that got to do with anything?”

“I don't want your help.”

He crossed his arms. “I don't understand.”

I turned my back to him and walked toward the porch. “Yes, you do.”

“Listen, just think about it. Okay? I'm willing to pay top dollar for spots or however you think you could work in the songs. I'll even spring for a new computer that will let you go digital. You come up with the cost of it and I'll help you. How would you like that?”

I opened the screen door and turned back. “I like my station the way it is. And the people who listen don't care if a song is on the computer or a CD or on a tape machine. They just want to hear songs they love.”

I let the door bang behind me. He called after me again but I didn't turn. He was one of those people who could always get what he wanted, no matter what. If a church didn't give enough in the love offering, he'd have the pastor go back out and make one more appeal. Guilt was like a lead guitar in his band.

His door slammed good and tight, like you would expect out of an expensive car. The mud spun under his tires as he backed out and drove away. I watched out the shop window, and as I passed the trash can, I tossed in the CD.

* * *

I thought my days had been dark with my mother and father, and they were. But these days were lonely and soul crushing. The financial stress of having to make it on my own was overwhelming, and the loss of Callie's cooking and friendship made me feel like a hollow log, but I held on to the verse in Psalm 46 that says, “Be still, and know that I am God.” One of the preachers I played said that literally meant that we needed to take our hands off the situation and relax.

So every day when Callie would bring me a new bill from whoever or a second or third notice from a dental bill for an abscess I had to have fixed (I didn't have the money for insurance, of course), I would open it up and use a thumbtack to put it on the wall. I called it my Wailing Wall because every time I passed it, I would let out a moan for all that I owed. That's where the verse came in handy. There was no part of that station that I owned because it was all God's. I'd dedicated it to him and given it over to him and told him that anything he wanted to do with it was okay with me.

That's why it was hard to understand what happened next.

I had to do routine maintenance with the equipment to keep things running well. I cleaned the heads of the tape players twice a week, but keeping the transmitter going was another thing. Even though I was the only one in the house, I kept a padlock on the file cabinet door because of the high voltage in there. I didn't want anybody who visited to reach in there and get shocked.

I had noticed some irregularities in the signal strength and saw one tube was giving way. It took me a few days to locate one. It wasn't much, but I didn't have the money for it and the jar in the corner was empty. I looked around for anything of value and finally decided to sell the old mandolin. I figured it was not a bad trade—a handful of musical memories for a tube that would keep us on the air. It felt like I was selling a friend when I handed it to the man at the pawnshop, but I walked out of there with enough for the tube and some groceries.

Before I went to bed one night, I played the legal ID alone with my announcement, saying that the station would be off the air momentarily because of routine maintenance. I opened the transmitter door and took out the tube, then retrieved the box in the living room. I was gone only a few seconds but that was enough. I heard a yelp, and the lights went out, plunging me into total darkness. My stomach dropped because I knew what had happened. I kicked myself for leaving the door open. I took out my Maglite from my pocket and switched it on. Rogers was still twitching and his fur was burned. He must have sniffed at the transformer and the current killed him instantly.

To those who don't understand it, it is hard to describe what a dog can mean to somebody who does not have much in the way of human companionship. A dog can be the comfort God uses to tell us that things are going to be all right. Rogers was there waiting for me at home anytime I left. He was there at the foot of my bed when I got up in the morning. Sometimes when I fell asleep at the console, he would lick my hand at just the right time to wake me up. And to think at the beginning I didn't even want him.

Of course, Rogers reminded me of my mother. He reminded me that though I felt alone at times, I really wasn't. He never asked for one thing except for food and water. And that my carelessness led to his death was almost too much to bear.

I finally got the power back on and the transmitter fixed. On the morning show I told folks about Rogers and I suppose I got a little emotional, especially the part about taking him out back on the hill by the tower and digging his grave and putting him there with his favorite blanket (which happened to be my favorite blanket). But I got through it and played an instrumental version of “Amazing Grace” that I thought was appropriate.

Just so you know how the Lord works in mysterious ways, the next few days I got the most e-mail and calls ever about anything. People wanted to tell me about their animals and how much they were like family to them. With all the misery in the world, it was clear to me how pure and good the love of an animal is. It was recounted to me over and over.

One lady wrote and asked my advice about what to do with her cat. I thought it was humorous that someone who didn't own a cat and really didn't like them would be asked to help an older woman get the courage to put it out of its misery, but I wrote her back and tried. I told her not to go alone to the veterinarian and that her cat would understand, in the end, that she was just trying to love her.

Her last e-mail was the most heartbreaking thing. She said her cat was gone and that I had given her the strength to let her go. After I read it, I turned on the tape machine and went into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. I saw Rogers's empty food and water dish and I was done for just about the whole day. I know some people will not understand this, but I don't apologize for loving that old dog. And after he was gone, I felt such an empty place in my soul that I'm ashamed to admit it, but there it is.

18

My curiosity piqued, the way ahead of me paved with good intentions, as well as the justification of believing that the fight would be better fought if I had full understanding of Billy's past, I took leave of my station and traveled across enemy lines for the meeting I had requested. I was reluctant to leave Billy so distraught about an animal that meant so much to him. I wondered if events such as these were “ordered” or were simply allowed to take place. The dog's death had caused great consternation in Billy, but I felt the meeting in the nether regions would finally give answers.

There is no place on earth or in the heavenlies that the Almighty, the Creator of the universe, is not. But there are areas where His presence seems to have less effect—where pervasive evil appears to hold sway, and it was to one of these places that I traveled.

The risk of humans speaking about the evil one is that they will get him and his power out of perspective. Let me say this to clear up any misconception. Satan is limited. He is not ever-present or all-knowing. But, of course, he is a force to be reckoned with, and his legions of followers are not the stumbling, bumbling oafs that many depict. They are a malevolent army trained in terrorism of the soul.

I knew going in that I was dealing with an enemy that would seek to confuse and lie. He and his minions would do anything to deter me from protecting my charge. And I truly believed that was what I was doing in attempting to learn more about the past. I sought answers to why he would choose to live alone and isolated, why he had given up the musical gift.

The demons seemed busy about their tasks and mostly ambivalent to my presence. Perhaps they expected me. Perhaps they had been told to ignore me. But I believe they were acting as they always do, for this is the effect of evil—a retreat into a world of one's own, thinking of nothing but self-preservation. As I looked on, I saw how trapped these creatures were, and something inside wanted to sing, wanted to exult in the goodness of the Holy One, who allows His creation to live and move and have its being in unfettered allegiance to an unending Kingdom.

From the darkness came a voice calling my name. I recognized it and stood my ground, knowing it would be a mistake to go farther.

The demon's face twisted in the light, as if in pain, and he shielded his eyes. “Can't you do something to tone down?”

“It is my nature. How can I do otherwise? I do not apologize for it nor will I change it.”

“Ah, the superior attitude. Don't you find it annoying? Darkness has its positives. Especially when discussing the human heart.”

“It is written that men loved darkness rather than light. Your leader loves darkness because all who do evil hate the light and refuse to go near it for fear their evil deeds will be exposed.”

“Spare me the biblical exposition. If I wanted preaching, I would listen to that simpering charge's radio station.” He studied his fingernails and said in a monotone, “What is it you want to know?”

“I was called away from my charge at a vulnerable time in his life. When he was beginning his tenure with the musical group. Did you or any of your kind witness what happened?”

“Why don't you ask your superiors? Why come running to the enemy?”

“I've been unsuccessful in discovering what happened.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I thought
all-knowing
meant
all-knowing.
Hmm. A little problem with that attribute. And this has meaning to you for what purpose?”

“It is information that I believe will help me in my tasks.”

He twisted his head in that impish way that always repulses me, but I tried not to show it. “Why would I want to cooperate in any way?”

“I do not appeal to your goodwill, for I know you have none.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” He licked his lips grotesquely and moved away from the cavern behind him. “You know, if the few people who actually listen to this radio station knew the depths to which he had fallen in his younger days, I doubt one of them would even come near the signal. They wouldn't waste their time listening to his babbling. It is because of this that we have decided to allow his flailings and machinations with this venture. With what little harm it can do to us, we should be able to use it in the future for much greater harm against him and, ultimately, the One he purports to serve.”

The imp edged closer and lowered his voice. “You see, your charge makes a big deal about how much freedom he has in Christ, how much victory and power he has in following your Leader. But he is enslaved. We have him trapped between the past and the present, all those memories, all those evil deeds that run like the infernal tapes, round and round and round. There is no end.”

While the demon spoke, I reminded myself that he was a liar and his father had invented the activity and raised it to an art form. Still, like any communiqué from the enemy, there were shreds of truth. I struggled to separate fact from fiction.

“How could you know any of this if you weren't following my charge?”