Eli (32 page)

More agreement.

“Then do you honestly think, in your wildest dreams, can you honestly imagine that some jail cell is going to thwart his efforts?”

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No one disagreed.

“Don’t you see what’s happening? It’s unfolding exactly as he said.”

“What’s unfolding?” Keith asked.

“He’s coming into power. The very thing you and I have been banging our heads against the wall trying to accomplish, he’s accomplishing on his own.”

“Run that past me again?” Will asked.

“He’s finally rolled up his sleeves, Will. He’s taken off his gloves and is finally going after the big boys.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Isn’t that what the Scriptures say the Messiah will do when he comes? Conquer and rule the world? Well, how do you conquer and rule the world without getting into the fray and getting your hands dirty?”

“So you’re saying this is the beginning of him taking over?” Jake repeated.

“Exactly. You heard the crowd’s excitement when he entered this morning. And what did he tell security when they wanted him to stop them?”

“That the very walls of the place would cry out,” Keith answered.

“Precisely.”

“And this is how he takes over the world?” Brent asked.

“By getting arrested?”

Conrad answered. “Eli’s ways have always been unconventional. There’s no denying that, right?”

“‘My ways are not your ways,’” Leon quoted.

“Exactly. And now he has finally quit playing the meek little lamb. Now he’s getting down to becoming the warrior we always knew he could be. What did he say at the fountain about religion, about the City of God?”

“That it’s all coming down.”

“Right, the old system is coming down and it’s about to be replaced.”

“By what?” Maggie asked.

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“By Eli!” Conrad answered impatiently. “He’s been polite, he’s been the gentlemen, and now finally he’s going to start kicking butt!” He could tell some of the group was finally starting to come around. He reached into his pocket, making sure he still had the note. The one he’d just received. He wasn’t sure whether he should mention it yet, or just hang onto it. He decided to wait.

“But how do you kick butt from a jail cell?” Leon demanded.

Jake answered, “Like Connie says, if death can’t hold back Suzanne’s brother, no jail cell’s going to hold Eli.”

Conrad added, “And even if it does, it suddenly makes him the underdog. The great, raise-people-from-the-dead prophet, being picked on by the big, bad, three-piece-suit and double-chinned establishment. Talk about becoming
the
rallying point. This is genius; it’s absolutely perfect!”

More and more of the group were beginning to see his point.

“But . . .” Trevor coughed nervously. As the shyest member, he seldom spoke. When he did, it was always with difficulty. “What about everything Eli said about not returning evil for evil, and about turning the other cheek?”

“I don’t know about you, son,” Jake almost chuckled, “but I’ve about run out of cheeks. Wouldn’t you agree, boys?” The group’s agreement grew stronger. He continued. “I mean, I’m gettin’ real tired of having to keep hangin’ my head like some whopped dog. If what Connie’s sayin’ is right, then I say it’s about time.”

More agreement.

“Looks like the train is finally pulling out of the station, fellas,” Will said. “And if that’s the case, then I’m gonna be on board.”

“That’s right,” others agreed.

“Guys . . .” It was Suzanne. Conrad was pleased to see she was participating as well. “Guys?”

They settled slightly.

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“What Connie says makes a lot of sense . . . I mean, how can you be a conquering Messiah without conquering?”

They agreed. Conrad gave her a smile.

“But . . .” She hesitated, trying to find the right words.

“What about all of his talk about dying to self? All these Kingdom of God principles he keeps insisting we live by.”

“What about them?” Jake asked.

Suzanne frowned. “His upside-down logic of giving to receive, of serving to rule. Does this—what you’re saying, Connie—does it really fit in with that?”

Conrad’s smile faded.

“We can’t lie down forever,” Scott said.

“That’s right,” Brent agreed. “He expects us to do something.”

“Does he?” Suzanne asked. “If he’s the
physical
conquering king, I suppose you’re right. But hasn’t he always said he came to be the ruler of souls? Hasn’t he always said his was a different kingdom?”

“What do you mean?” Conrad asked, doing his best to hide his irritation. It wasn’t easy. After all the effort it had taken to sway the guys to his point of view, what was she doing trying to sway them back?

Suzanne shook her head. “I’m not sure. It’s just this business of rolling up our sleeves and attacking the world . . . I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

“Remember . . .” It was Trevor again. “Remember how he always told us that we should die? That we should turn everything we have over to him?”

The group grew more silent.

He continued. “Couldn’t this be one of those times?”

“What are you talking about, Trev?”

“Shouldn’t our desire for him to be this big deliverer, the conquering king—shouldn’t we expect that to die as well?”

Jake shook his head gently. “Son, I appreciate what you’re saying, but you don’t want to take that type of thinking too far.”

Will agreed. “That’s like saying God has to die to be God.

It don’t work that way.”

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“It doesn’t?” Suzanne asked. All eyes turned back to her.

“Isn’t that what Eli has always said, that he’d have to die?

Remember?” She turned to Conrad. “At the prison with Ellen Perkins, remember all that talk about merging holiness with mercy? Remember how he said he’d have to shed his own blood to make that happen?”

“He said a lot of things,” Conrad replied. “And not all of them make sense, at least literally. A dead king? I don’t think so.”

“He could have been talking in metaphor,” Hector suggested, “or about some sort of spiritual death. I mean, who knows?”

“He also said, ‘I am the resurrection
and the life
,’” Leon argued. “Doesn’t sound like a dead king to me.”

“I know,” Suzanne sighed, “I know. But taking matters into our own hands right now just doesn’t feel right.”

A few more heads began to nod. If she didn’t make complete sense, at least Suzanne’s argument was enough to give the group some pause.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Jake asked. “Just sit around here, twiddling our thumbs?”

No one had an answer.

“I guess”—Suzanne cleared her throat—“we do what we’ve always done. What I did in Lebanon for all those days.”

“What’s that?” Will asked.

“We wait.”

Looks were exchanged. A few heads nodded. No one could refute her argument.

Conrad sighed in exasperation. The group could be so dense sometimes—so timid and fearful. It couldn’t be any clearer. Eli had shifted policy, had finally gone from invisible warrior to high-profile fighter. What were those statements at the City of God about, what was that violence in the gift store about, if it wasn’t a declaration of war?

And still they didn’t get it. Ever since Eli had gone public, ever since he’d raised Suzanne’s brother from the dead, hththt 5/14/01 11:35 AM Page 252

252 things had changed. But these people didn’t see it. Yet, wasn’t that how it always was with these guys? Seems like Eli had to say something a hundred times before they got it. Well, Conrad got it. Maybe the others hadn’t, at least not yet, but that was okay—he had. Which would explain why he was the one who had received the message from Dr. Kerston. The message McFarland had passed on to him and that was now folded in his pocket.

The group may not understand the threat Eli was suddenly posing to Dr. Kerston and his establishment, but Dr.

Kerston did. Why else would the man have requested a special meeting with Conrad, a meeting where he hoped to try and “work out their differences”? Yes, sir, things were changing. Swiftly. And from the looks of things, Conrad was going to be the man chosen to implement them.

v

“Dad, stop it! Stop it!”

Julia’s father had grabbed her date and was literally dragging him out of the car by his neck.

“Dad!”

The kid didn’t know what hit him. One minute he had unbuttoned Julia’s shirt and was going for her jeans, the next the driver’s door flew open, his head was slammed against the steering wheel, and he was being dragged out onto the pavement.

“Daddy!”
Julia quickly covered herself, buttoning whatever buttons she could find, while scrambling out the other side of the car.
“Daddy, stop it!”

But the man didn’t stop. Her date may have been younger, but her father was stronger—and more importantly, fighting for her honor. Or so he thought. It was summer, between her sophomore and junior year in high school—those two months that she came out every year to visit him in California. And the kid? Some guy she’d met at a party. Good looking, sexy, and experienced . . . just the way she liked them.

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Her father hit him hard in the gut, causing him to double over in a gasp.

“Daddy!”

He pulled the boy’s head up by his hair and shoved him against the car.

“What’d I do?”
the kid screamed, wild-eyed.
“What’d I
do? What’d I do
?
”

Julia raced around the car toward them
. “Daddy, don’t!”

“What’d I do?”

He held the boy against the car with his left hand, while clenching his right into a fist. Julia saw him lean back, preparing to smash the kid’s face.
“Daddy, no!”
She lunged at him, throwing herself on his arm.
“Daddy!”

He shook her off and grabbed the boy’s collar with both hands, practically lifting him off the ground, their faces inches apart.

“That’s my little girl!”
He shouted, spittle flying into the boy’s face.

“It was her idea!”
the kid screamed
. “It was hers!”

Her father hesitated, but only for a second. He lifted the kid even further off the ground, pulling his face even closer.

“It’s true!”
Julia shouted, tugging at his arm.
“It was my
idea. It’s what I wanted. Not him. Me! ME!”

Again he hesitated.

“It’s what I wanted!”

He turned to her, still not understanding.

“Me, it’s what I wanted!”

“What?”
He continued staring, eyes darting about her face in confusion.
“You’re . . . sixteen years old.”

“And I was fifteen when I was doing it with Joey Palmer,
and Truman Ardmore . . .”

She saw the understanding start to dawn.

“And fourteen with Scotty Johnson, oh, and some guy
from summer camp I didn’t even know . . .”

His gaze faltered, dropping to the ground, looking everywhere, anywhere, but at her.

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“And let’s not forget Jerry Hoover. You remember Jerry
Hoover, don’t you, Dad? That nice college kid who was intern-ing with you?”

He kept staring at the ground, almost helplessly. Julia watched, basking in the victory and pain she’d inflicted. How dare he check up on her like that. How dare he! But even as she watched, she felt the victory starting to sour.

“I . . .”
He continued looking down, beginning to shake his head.
“I didn’t know.”

Julia swallowed, taking a breath, but could find nothing to say.

“I didn’t . . .”
At last he raised his eyes to hers. The expression stabbed her deep in the heart. He appeared so helpless, so . . . lost.

Though her rage was justified, she felt it slipping away.

And that made her more angry. This was her victory and she wasn’t about to let him ruin it.
“Why not, Dad?”
she said, holding her ground.
“Everybody always says we’re cut from
the same cloth. ‘A chip off the ol’ block,’ isn’t that how you
brag about me?”
Again he looked at the ground. But she wasn’t letting him off that easy.
“Well, take a good look, Dad.

Take a good look at what we are.”

“I wanted . . .”
His voice was hoarse, still searching.
“I
wanted something better for you.”
Slowly he raised his eyes.

“You deserve better than this, you are better . . . than this.”

His pain both tore at her and outraged her. But she didn’t back down.
“What you see is what you get.”

He stood staring at her. She held his gaze until he was the one who finally turned. And then, without a word, he started back up the sidewalk toward the house.

Angry at his defeat and at the self-loathing welling up inside her, she shouted after him.
“A chip off the ol’ block!”

He kept on walking.
“Like father, like daughter.”
Her throat tightened, her body started to tremble. But she couldn’t stop.

“Like father, like—”

Suddenly she was back on her bicycle. Flying . . . sailing . . .

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“Daddy, don’t let go . . .”

“I’m right here.”

“Don’t let go!”

“Trust me, Sweetheart, I won’t let go.”

Then the silence
.

“Daddy . . . Daddy, where are you? DADDY—”

“Julia . . .” It was her mother’s voice. “Jules?”

She opened her eyes.

“Julia, Sweetheart?” She turned to see her mother standing at the sliding glass door to the ICU. “The lawyers are here.”

Julia rubbed her eyes and nodded. “I guess I fell asleep.

Who did you say was here?”

“A couple lawyers. And they brought along some doctors, too.”