Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content (19 page)

“You see, like Raven, I made my share of mistakes in this life, and I be paying for them now. But I got my second chance when I was born again right here in this prison, and today I can say to you with blessed assurance that I be a new woman. A new creation. Now some of the gals here call me Preacher Girl and that be fine by me. And you can be sure that I have given Raven many a fiery sermon, and sometimes I think she even took it to heart. I also know that Edgar, her dear boy, wrote her many a fine letter telling her about the saving grace of our Lord Jesus.

“So, this morning as I sat here pondering over what will become of Raven now that she has taken life into her own hands, so to speak, it occurs to me that we human beings don’t have all the answers. Only God knows what comes next. Raven had the good news preached at her over and over again. And who’s to say it wasn’t ringing in her ears during those last precious moments of her life. I know it’s not for me to judge. And it’s not for you neither. Anyway, I just wanted to share my thoughts with Raven’s family. And I be praying for each of you. And for Raven too. Even though she’s gone, I trust my precious Lord is smart enough to sort it all out when she shows up at his pearly gates. Sincerely, in Christ, Ms. Olivia Stockard.”

Mike refolds the letter now. “No one could argue that Raven Peebles was a person who lived life on her own terms. She obviously
made mistakes and suffered the consequences for them. But according to those who knew her best, she had a big heart and a kind spirit.”

I listen as Mike tells more about Raven’s unconventional past and how she grew up in a commune that had no electricity or telephones. He explains how she always considered herself a “free spirit” and how she thought that rules were meant to be broken.

“But based on this letter from Olivia, we can only hope and pray that Raven is all right now,” continues Mike. “And we are instructed by the Lord Jesus Christ to not judge one another. Like Olivia said, we don’t know what went through Raven’s mind or heart in those last moments of her life. That is for God to do.” Now Mike opens his Bible to a marked place. “This is what God’s Word says about it in the book of John, verses sixteen and seventeen of chapter three: ‘For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved.’”

Mike continues talking about God’s mercy and forgiveness, and then we all bow our heads to pray. After that a couple from the church sing that Eric Clapton song about knowing someone’s name in heaven and I’m sure that everyone is crying now. But it’s a good kind of crying, I think. Then the couple sings a happier song that’s also about heaven and the service comes to an end.

“Thanks for coming,” says Edgar afterward.

I stare at him and feel certain that he looks several years older than the night we went to the dance. And maybe he is. “That was a nice letter from your mom’s friend,” I tell him.

He nods. “Yeah. It gives me hope. I mean I don’t really know what she was thinking when she, well, you know. But there’s this little part of me that hopes I’ll see her again in heaven.”

Amy and Max are both being unusually quiet right now, but it looks like Amy is fighting to hold back her tears.

“The church has some refreshments in the fellowship hall,” says Edgar. “If you guys want to join us.”

I can tell that Amy and Max aren’t very comfortable here, but I’m relieved when they agree to come.

We hang around for almost an hour and Edgar introduces us to his dad, who seems very meek and quiet, as well as some of his church friends. And finally it’s time to go. I think that Amy and Max are relieved to get out of the church, but I was actually starting to feel at home. In fact, I’m thinking that if Edgar doesn’t mind, and I’m sure he won’t, I’d like to try going to his church for a while.

It’s cloudy and gray outside and just starting to sprinkle, but Max pauses in the parking lot to light up a Camel. He sucks in a deep breath then slowly exhales as if the smoke itself is going to revive his spirits.

“Don’t you want one, Amy?” he asks, holding the pack out to her. “Or you still trying to quit?”

She looks longingly at the cigarette package and finally shakes her head. “Nah. I’ve gotten this far, I might as well see if I can do this.”

“So, what did you think of the funeral?” Max says to no one in particular.

“It was kind of scary,” says Amy in a serious tone.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It’s hard to explain, but when I saw that picture of Raven—and, man, wasn’t she gorgeous? I mean who would’ve thought that Edgar’s mom would look like that?” She sadly shakes her head. “But anyway, when I saw that photo and then heard more about Raven’s life and taking so many risks and the consequences she suffered and all that crud. Well, I guess it sort of hit home.”

I nod without saying anything. But I think I understand.

“And I guess it kind of freaks me.”

It’s starting to rain harder now, and Max snuffs out his cigarette even though it’s only half-smoked. “Let’s go,” he says in a gruff voice. I suspect he doesn’t like where Amy’s conversation seems to be heading.

Once she’s in the front seat and the car is going, Amy turns around to look at me. “Do you really think Raven’s in heaven, Kara?”

“I really don’t know much about these things, but I actually do. And not just because of that letter from her friend, but I know what Edgar means, it’s like I’ve got this feeling deep inside of me, like Raven’s okay now, like maybe she’s with God and finally at peace. You know?”

“Sort of, but I couldn’t for the life of me explain why.” Amy turns back around now. She slumps down into the passenger seat and Max continues to drive through the sheets of rain with only the sound of the windshield wipers filling the car.

Max drops me at home and I thank him for the ride and tell them both to have a good weekend. I wish I could think of something more encouraging to say to Amy. Especially since it seems like she’s really bummed right now. But at least I can pray for her. That’s more than I could do last week. And I remember how I had to go through my own tough times before I was ready to open the door to God. Maybe this struggle will help her to do the same.

I do plan to call Edgar tonight and tell him about what Amy said today. Somehow I think it will encourage him to know that she’s thinking about these things too. And I know that he’ll want to be praying for her. It would be so amazingly cool to think that something as sad and seemingly senseless as Edgar’s mother’s death could rock Amy’s world hard enough to make her really wonder about God.

It’s still raining outside, but I decide to go out and take a run anyway. I feel like I need to breathe some fresh air, and I think it’ll help clear out my head. I return my mom’s black dress to her closet then put on my sweats and lace up my shoes and just take off. I run my regular course for about twenty minutes then consider turning back toward home, but the rain is finally starting to let up, so I decide to hit the park for a cool-down.

As I jog toward the duck pond, I’m still thinking about the funeral and Edgar and his sad-looking dad. I’m also thinking about Max and Amy and even Raven. And I must admit that I’m feeling more and more bummed about everything. It doesn’t quite make sense, because I do believe Jesus is still inside me, but it’s like there’s this wet blanket of sadness that’s starting to cover me. It’s almost suffocating and I don’t know how to shake it off. I’m sure it’s a result of the funeral today. I mean, who feels happy after a funeral? Just the same, I don’t like it. It feels dark and lonely and hopeless.

Then I remember I can talk to my best friend about all this crud. And so I tell Jesus about my confused feelings. I tell him that I’m worried about my friends and I ask him to keep helping Edgar and his dad, as well as Amy and Max. I even go as far as to ask him if he can take away all the sadness in the world. But somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen. Still, I do feel better after this heart-to-heart chat. I feel like the weight is being lifted from me, like I can breathe again.

When I reach the duck pond, I notice that the clouds are finally starting to thin. And it’s not long until the sun actually breaks through, creating a golden beam of light that makes me imagine a ladder that stretches up to heaven. Maybe it’s the ladder that Raven has climbed. Or maybe it just swept her upward in one fantastic swoosh, faster than the speed of light.

I’m so caught up in my heavenly ladder theory that I almost don’t notice the rainbow that’s beginning to appear in the west. It’s pale at first, but growing more vivid by the second. Bright pink and yellow and green and blue and purple. It’s magnificent, the most glorious rainbow I’ve ever seen. I just stand by the duck pond and stare in amazed fascination.
Awesome, God!

And somehow, I am absolutely certain that this is God’s way of assuring all of us that Raven is perfectly safe with him now and that everything is okay for her. Anyway, that’s what I believe. I sure hope that Edgar can see the rainbow. I know that they were planning to head out to the cemetery afterward. I hope and pray that they’re standing there right now, witnessing this miraculous rainbow for themselves.

When I go home, I pull out an old set of colored pencils and attempt to re-create the beautiful scene I just saw at the park. Okay, it doesn’t really look the same, and I probably got carried away with the rainbow colors, but I plan to give it to Edgar as a reminder that God is good. So incredibly good.

E
DGAR IS BACK IN SCHOOL ON
M
ONDAY AND SEEMS TO BE HANDLING LIFE
fairly well. Oh, I know he gets down sometimes, and he tells me that he still feels a little guilty for not going to visit his mother more while she was in prison.

“Man, when I think of all those years I wasted . . . ” he says as we walk toward the art department together. “If I’d only known.”

“But you were just a kid when she got sentenced, Edgar,” I remind him. “That’s a pretty heavy load, even for a grownup, but you can’t blame yourself for what happened to her or even question what you did or didn’t do before it was too late.”

“I know,” he says. “And I know that God’s forgiven me. Still, I feel bad sometimes.”

“Well, anytime you need to talk,” I tell him as we enter the art room, “you know I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, Kara.” He almost smiles now. “And thanks for the picture. It’s hanging in my bedroom.”

By the end of the week, Edgar seems to be doing much better. He smiles more and seems to be back to trusting God for everything. Just like the old Edgar.

“I’m still not smoking,” Amy announces during art on Friday. “It’s been two weeks now and they say that if you can make it for
two weeks, you can make it for life.”

“Congratulations,” says Felicia. “And your breath smells a lot better too.”

“Thanks a lot,” says Amy with a scowl.

It’s Friday and I’m springing for pizza today. But I decide to walk outside with Edgar to wait for the delivery guy. It doesn’t seem fair that he’s stuck doing this all by himself all the time.

“Amy told me that she’s been reading the Bible,” he says after we’re out in the hallway.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was her own idea too. She said that if she’s going to find out about God, it’s going to be on her own terms.”

“Kind of like what Mike said about your mom.”

“Yeah. Amy really thinks that she and my mom are a lot alike.”

“What do you think?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess so. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think I really knew my mom very well. I mean, I knew she was really intelligent, I could see that, but then it seemed like she was always doing something incredibly stupid too.”

“Kind of like our Amy?”

He smiles now. “Yeah, I suppose so. Hey, isn’t it cool that she quit smoking?”

“Yeah, now that really took some willpower.”

“Not that God would treat her any differently or love her any less if she still smoked.”

“Really?” I feel slightly confused now. “But doesn’t God expect us to, well you know, live really good lives?”

“Of course,” says Edgar as we reach the street.

We both sit down on the curb and watch for the little red van that brings the pizza.

Then Edgar continues, “I think God wants us to make good choices, Kara, and to take care of ourselves. But most of all I think he just wants us to love him and to let him into all the ordinary and sometimes gory details of our daily lives.”

I nod as I point to the delivery van rattling down the street toward us. “Yeah. As you can probably guess, I don’t know too much about all this God stuff yet, but I’ll take your word for that, Edgar.”

He laughs and waves to the pizza guy. “Hey, don’t just take
my
word for it, Kara. Do like Amy’s doing and read God’s Word for yourself. Let him show you who he is and what he’s all about.”

And so the next morning, I call Edgar and ask him if he wants to go to the mall with me to help me pick out a Bible.

“I’ve never had one before,” I confess with some embarrassment. I mean, it seems like if you’re an American, you should probably have a Bible. But then my family’s just never been like that. “And I really don’t know anything about Bibles and I wouldn’t want to, you know, get the wrong kind.” I laugh nervously. “Is there a wrong kind?”

“I don’t know about that, but I can show you the kind that Mike recommended to me.”

“Cool.” I sigh in relief. I’m so glad that Edgar is such an easygoing guy. I should’ve known he wouldn’t make fun of my Bible ignorance. We agree to meet at the mall bus stop around noon. But I switch outfits several times before I leave the apartment. I mean, I realize this is definitely
not
a date or anything like that. Good grief, I’m the one who called Edgar. But for some reason how I look matters to me today.

I almost laugh at myself as I get on the bus. Now I ask you, who would’ve thought a couple of months ago that I, Kara Hendricks, would actually be concerned about my appearance when I was going to the mall to meet Edgar Peebles, of all people, so that I
could pick out, and actually pay hard-earned babysitting money for, a Bible? Man, is life ever strange. But good. Very, very good.