Dominion (53 page)

“Mindy, how are you?” Clarence said, dropping by her desk in the late afternoon.

“I’ve been better, I guess. What’s up?”

“I noticed how uncomfortable you seemed at the committee meeting this morning.”

“Oh?” Mindy tensed up.

“When Jess was talking about censoring that story, it seemed to hit a sore spot with you.”

“Pretty perceptive of you, Clarence. And here I thought all men were insensitive louts.”

Clarence laughed. “Louts maybe, but not always insensitive.”

“So…what do you want from me? Probably not to be my therapist.”

“If I promise not to tell anybody, would you let me in on the story that was spiked?”

She looked surprised that he’d pieced it together. “I like you, Clarence—please don’t tell anybody that; I’ve got a reputation to uphold. But you’re a lightning rod. I’m afraid you’d use anything I tell you as a wedge with the committee or the
Trib.”

“Even if I promise I won’t?”

“Reporter’s honor—is that it?” Mindy laughed sarcastically. “Well, since you’re the only one asking, maybe I’ll tell you, even if it’s against my better judgment.”

“Thanks…I think.”

“There was a girl in North Portland, an African American, named Leesa Fletcher. Went to Jefferson, graduated in the spring, 4.0 student, was just starting University of Portland, full ride. Great girl, fine family. She’d been chosen for Portland’s Black Future Leaders of America, the whole deal.”

“Yeah, I remember. She died, right? A heart defect or something?”

“Right. Well, sort of. She
did
have a congenital heart defect. But what caused her heart to stop was a drug overdose. Crack cocaine.”

“No kidding? I never heard that.”

“Nobody
heard that. The doctor ordered an autopsy, but the results weren’t released. Nobody knew anything until two weeks after the story was cold. I followed up, just to confirm cause of death, didn’t expect anything different. That’s when I found out from the coroner’s office about the crack cocaine. I wrote the story, turned it in to Cecil, and next thing I know Jess is talking to us both, telling us to stick with the basic facts—congenital heart defect. ‘That’s the truth,’ he kept saying, and yeah it was, but not the whole truth. Of course, as you no doubt picked up today, Raylon was behind the scenes, twisting Jess’s arm.”

Clarence shook his head in amazement. “What was Raylon’s logic?”

“Well, of course I got it through Jess, but it was, Why unnecessarily hurt the family? Why feed into the racist stereotypes? Here’s a girl who’s been touted as top notch, outstanding student, the hope of black America, and she’s tarnished with drugs. The
Trib
has an obligation to protect the image.”

“What was Raylon’s interest in this story?”

She shrugged. “That’s what bugs me most. If we’re going to protect minority images, okay. But let’s face it: we’ve made every minority look bad one time or another, and we’ve made whites look bad—men, women, everybody. So why single this one out? It makes you wonder, is there something more to it?”

“If you can color a story one way for some supposedly legitimate reason,” Clarence said, “what keeps you from having another reason but using the legitimate one as your cover?”

“Exactly, Clarence. For once, we’re on the same wavelength.”

“It’s been more than once, Mindy.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for telling me. I won’t mess you up.”

“Thanks. I probably shouldn’t, but I feel better talking about it.”

“On the one hand I feel so fulfilled, so satisfied,” Dani said. “This is Joy—every experience of joy on earth was the stab, the pang, the inconsolable longing for this place. Yet, in a strange way, I feel my desires, my yearnings, my thirst is greater than ever. How can this be?”

“You are experiencing what you were made for,” Torel said. “There is thirst because there is water; hunger because there is food. There is spiritual thirst because there is the water that is Elyon, the one for whom you were made. It is a thirst fully satisfied in him, yet which reoccurs in order to draw you back to drink ever more deeply from him.”

“Strange, though,” Dani said. “I would have thought there would be no thirst here.”

“And without the thirst, where would be the pleasure and joy? Without the desire, how could the desire be fulfilled?”

“But…I guess I thought there could be no need in heaven.”

“No injustice, no suffering, of course. But no need? Elyon’s creatures will always need to know him, to worship him, to serve him. Heaven’s joy is not the absence of needs and desires but the continual fulfillment of them.”

“Yes, I see that. My desires and thirsts never leave me depressed but fill me with joy and excitement in the anticipation of their next fulfillment. Like thirst that is satisfied but develops again that it may be satisfied again.”

“Those who are never thirsty are never refreshed,” Torel said. “Those who do not hunger are never filled. That is the beauty of heaven and the horror of hell. For in hell need never dies, but it is never satisfied. Desire never ends, but the ultimate object of every desire is forever absent—Elyon himself.”

“What a horrible existence—to have no hope. Desire and need without possibility of satisfaction would be an unquenchable burning, an eternal fire.”

“What do
you
long for now, Dani?”

“For the consummation of Elyon’s plans on earth. I’m delighted with this place, yet I find myself anticipating, thirsting for the Carpenter’s reign on earth. I’m not dissatisfied—how could I be dissatisfied with a place beyond my wildest dreams? Yet I yearn for God to make right all the wrongs, to make earth no longer what it is, but what it should be.”

“When you cooked special meals for your family, did you wish them to hunger for them?”

“Yes,” Dani said.

“So Elyon desires his children to hunger for righteousness. What else do you long for?”

“I long to serve,” Dani said. “I’ve enjoyed the rest from my labor, but I also yearn to work for the Carpenter in the place he will appoint me to. When I hear Grandmother Ruth talk about her missions and service for Elyon, it makes me eager to serve him. I’ve been very active here, of course; there is so much to do, I’ve barely scratched the surface. But I do long to serve him.”

“When you are weary, as everyone is when he first comes here from the dark world, rest is very inviting,” Torel said. “But rest is only one dimension of heaven. Another is work. For those who long for productivity, there is no greater promise than that of serving God for eternity. Elyon’s book says that in heaven his people will always serve him. His Word says you are his workmanship created in order to do good works. Surely you didn’t think those works would end when you left earth? You were made for eternity, and his purposes for you extend into eternity. That is why Elyon promises that in keeping with your service for Christ on earth, you will reign with him in heaven. You will have responsibilities delegated by Elyon himself. You will rule over the world and you will rule over angels. Tell me, Dani, what does service involve?”

“Well, responsibilities, duties, effort. Goals, planning, strategy. Service requires the creativity and the resources to do work well. Since Elyon does nothing without design, it must be work with purpose and significance.”

“And how does such work relate to rest?”

“Well, it could be refreshing work. Like Adam and Eve did in the garden before sin brought the curse, with its weeds and thorns.”

“Yes. Kingdom work with lasting accomplishment, unhindered by decay and fatigue, enhanced by unlimited resources. Heaven’s labor is refreshing, productive, and unthwarted, without futility and frustration. The work itself is rest, just as rest is itself productive.”

“I have still another longing, Torel. To hug my Celeste and Ty again. And Daddy. And Antsy.”

“They long to embrace you as well,” Torel said. “And in the right time, both your longing and theirs will be fulfilled.”

Dani walked to the portal. Her guardian beside her, she fell on her knees, filled with both longing and satisfaction, overflowing with both contentment and desire.

Clarence and Geneva got in the car to head toward the Irvington area, a few miles south and a little east of their home. Reggie and Esther Norcoast had invited them for dinner. The councilman was also taking up Clarence on his challenge to a game of chess. Clarence had said yes both to satisfy Raylon and to avenge his loss at tennis.

To prepare for his match Clarence had played against Chessmaster 3000 on his computer at the highest setting. His Uncle Elijah had taught him the basics as a child. He in turn had taught friends and faced off with cousins, quickly and instinctively learning the game. Chess had a regal dimension, a Camelot character in which opponents jousted. Good players could approach the game either as brainy contemplatives or as street fighters. Clarence prided himself at being able to do either. He loved chess. It was sheer mind, no body. He enjoyed setting up opponents as though they were tin cans on a fence. Then he’d shoot them down one pawn at a time. In tennis, someone could think Clarence’s physical skills had beaten them. But in chess, everything was mental.

Clarence had never been to Norcoast’s home, but Geneva had driven by it once after she and Dani had shopped at the Lloyd Center and Dani had wanted to show off her councilman’s estate. Clarence drove slowly now, as he and Geneva compared the increasingly stately houses, and remarked what a dramatic change there’d been in the space of a half-dozen blocks. This northeast fringe of Irvington was the far southwest fringe of the councilman’s district but was a vastly different world. Property values appeared to have doubled about every other block in the last half mile.

“That’s it,” Geneva said, pointing to a beautiful white mansion, lushly landscaped. Clarence pulled forward slowly, then came to a stop. He turned off the engine and stared at this corner estate, which occupied two lots on one street and two more on the intersecting street. A beautiful iron fence surrounded the manicured front yard. Clarence and Geneva looked at each other, raising their eyebrows at the same moment, then laughing. They got out of the car and walked up to the entry gate, sixty feet from the front stairs. Clarence jostled the gate, but it was locked. Geneva pointed to a white button above a speaker, surrounded by several decals warning of a Brinks security system. Clarence pressed the button.

They heard a stately female voice say, “Geneva and Clarence! Hello. Welcome!”

The bolt snapped back loudly, prompting Geneva to gasp, then cover her mouth. Clarence laughed and pushed the gate open, beckoning her to enter the grounds. Clarence was tempted to leave the gate open, but its mammoth springs insisted on closing itself. They proceeded down the concrete walkway, lined with flowers. Clarence and Geneva both walked forward cautiously, instinctively looking behind trees for security guards, as if this were a scaled-down governor’s mansion.

“He’s a shoo-in for mayor next year,” Clarence whispered. “I’ll give him six years before he’s governor.”

“You really think it will take that long?” Geneva whispered back.

Esther Norcoast opened the front door and hugged them as though they were long lost kinfolk. “Reggie’s in the den. Let me take you there. He thought you’d want to play chess before dinner. Maybe that’s okay.” she said to Geneva. “If we could get it out of the way, we could all chat after dinner and the menfolk won’t have to be thinking about doing battle!”