Pages of Promise (21 page)
He put these concerns in a letter to Owen, and he’d gotten a response within a few days.
Dear Nephew,
The questions you raise are important, and I wish I could come and talk to you face-to-face, but my schedule just won’t allow that.
I’ll call you next Sunday afternoon at the home place at 3 o’clock. (I figure things will be quieter there than the place where you’re staying.) In the meantime, read John 8:3–11. And pray for God’s light.
Love,
Owen
Richard looked up the verses Owen suggested. They were about a woman brought to Jesus who had been caught in adultery. Was Owen suggesting that Richard disregard Laurel’s past? He had a couple of days to think about it before Sunday. And he took Owen’s advice about praying, too.
The phone rang at exactly three o’clock. Logan and Anne had gone for a little stroll so Richard could have privacy.
“Hello.”
“Howdy, Richard,” said Owen’s voice. “Glad you got my note. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to see you just now, but I didn’t want to wait a long time to talk about these things.”
“Hello, Uncle Owen. I’m glad you called. I sure need your advice.”
“Well, what did you think about what you read in John 3?”
“It sounds like you’re saying I should forget about Laurel’s past. Is that what you mean?”
“There’s more to it. You dated some in high school, didn’t you, Richard?”
“Yeah, some.”
“Anyone serious?”
“Well, I went out with Annie Regan for about a year. It seemed pretty serious at the time. But I was only sixteen. It didn’t mean anything. What are you driving at?”
“Now, I’m gonna get real personal with you, Richard. Be honest with yourself even if you don’t want to tell me. Did you and this Annie Regan kiss much? Did you spend much time alone with her?”
Richard flushed even though no one was there to see. “Well—yeah, I guess.”
“Did you ever feel like maybe the two of you got a little too intimate—like you went a little too far?”
Richard was silent.
“If that happened to you, maybe you can put yourself in Laurel’s situation. Maybe things just went a little too far.”
“But it’s up to a girl to make a guy stop, isn’t it? Annie sure stopped me. Laurel should have made her boyfriend stop.”
“Did your daddy teach you that?”
Richard was silent again. Then he said, “No. He said a man has to control himself.”
“See, Richard, girls are taught that it’s up to them to say no because boys are just born more aggressive. But the truth is, it’s up to both a girl and a boy to say no.”
“So, it’s as much her boyfriend’s fault as it is Laurel’s.”
“Yes. And to my way of thinkin’, in Laurel’s case maybe even more his fault. Maybe that boyfriend was taking advantage of her loneliness. She thought she was his first girlfriend—maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t. Or maybe he was lonely, too. Or maybe he didn’t have a daddy who told him it was up to him to control himself.”
“So it’s not so simple, huh?”
“Maybe. Now think about John 8 again. Do you have your Bible there?”
“Yes.”
“See where it says, in verse 7, ‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her’? What do you think that means?”
“I think it means that even though I didn’t sin in that way—but maybe not for lack of trying—I have sinned other ways, so I have no place pointing my finger at Laurel.”
“I think you’ve got it, boy.”
“But Uncle Owen, does that mean I should marry her?”
“You have to decide if you really want to marry her. You haven’t been in too much of a hurry, it seems to me. Do you love her?”
“Well, yes, but what about being a preacher? If I marry Laurel I can’t be in the ministry, can I?”
“Richard, there’s all kinds of people and all kinds of preachin’. Seems like maybe you need to think about if there’s people that wouldn’t care if Laurel had a baby out of wedlock.”
“Who wouldn’t care?”
“You’re a smart boy. You think about it. And what about Bible school. You think about that?”
“You didn’t go to school.”
“No, but times are changin’. When I started preachin’ most people didn’t have any more education than I did. There’s a school in Chicago you might think about. I’ll send you some stuff I’ve got that tells about it. And it’d be nice if you was there near your grandma and grandpa.”
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Uncle Owen.”
“Good! It’s good for a young man to think. Keep in touch. Tell me where your thinkin’ leads you. And keep on prayin’ like I told you. Good-bye, Richard. Tell Logan and Anne I’ll talk to ’em soon.”
“Good-bye, Uncle Owen.”
Richard sat quietly after he hung up the telephone.
He had supper with Logan and Anne, and when he returned to the Vine that evening, he was a bit warmer to Laurel than he had been since she’d told him about her past. She looked at him in cold surprise and turned and walked away.
Looks like I’ve got some making up to do,
he thought.
But I’ve got
to sort this all out first.
Vaguely aware that the phone was ringing, Mona climbed out of the black pit of sleep into the twilight zone of semi-consciousness. “All right. All right,” she muttered. She groped for the phone, picked it up, and fell back on the pillow. “Hello?” she said, her voice slurry with fatigue. It was her father’s voice.
“Mona?”
“Yes, Dad. Is something wrong?”
“Bad news, honey.”
“What’s wrong? Is it Mom?”
“It’s Stephen.”
“Is he sick?”
“No, Daughter, he’s not sick or hurt. He’s been indicted for fraud.”
Mona sat straight up in bed and cried, “Oh, no! It can’t be true!”
“I think it’s pretty straight, Mona. I just wanted you to know before you heard it from somebody else.”
“I’ll come right away, Daddy. Is Mom okay?”
“We’re holdin’ up. Do what you need to do, Mona.”
Mona held the phone tight and whispered, “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
He answered, “I love you, Daughter.” The phone clicked and Mona put it back on its cradle, then she leaped out of bed trying to think what she had to do.
Pete and Leslie met her at the airport.
“Hello, Daughter,” Pete said and put his arms around her and took her kiss on his cheek.
She hugged and kissed her mother, whose face was stiff with strain.
“Have you talked to him, Dad?”
“Yes.”
Her father’s reply was bleak, and that single word told Mona a great deal. “What does he say? How in the world could it have happened?”
“He says it’s not his fault. He was in a deal with some other men, and he claims they maneuvered him into this.”
“Dad, he couldn’t have done it, could he?”
Peter took her arm and Leslie’s and said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He did not speak until they had gotten Mona’s luggage and were in the car, and then he began to tell her the details, as he understood the case against Stephen. There was little hope in his voice, and Mona felt fear touch her spine. “Dad, he couldn’t go to jail, could he?”
“Yes, he could. As a matter of fact, from what the lawyer says, there’s not much hope of anything less.”
“It’s hit us pretty hard, Mona,” her mother said quietly. “It looks like we’ll lose the business, but we’re hoping we can keep the house.”
Mona felt horrified. She hadn’t considered that her parents might be at risk. She suddenly saw how old they were. They had worked hard all their lives building their business and providing for themselves and their children. And to lose it now—and because their son was in some crooked deal. She felt some of their grief and shock.
Mona went to see Stephen that afternoon, but the interview was terrible. He’d been drinking and kept casting blame on the other men involved. Mona tried to find out the details but with little success. She ended up nearly screaming at him for what he was doing to their parents. Before she left, he said, “Don’t worry. I got a good lawyer. I’ll beat it.”
“It might not work that way, Stephen,” Mona said icily.
“Sure it will, Sis.” Stephen’s confidence was a veneer. When Mona saw that he was afraid, she put her arms around him and held him tightly. She could not keep the tears back, and she whispered, “I’ll be praying for you, Stephen.”
Mona and her parents endured the long trial, which was so complicated that they understood very little of the details. Apparently Stephen had falsified financial statements to the Securities and Exchange Commission, failing to accurately report his own transactions—and profits—as required by law. He’d improperly used “inside” information. SEC investigators had uncovered these violations when they pursued a complaint by one of Stephen’s former business associates.
By the first day of the trial, Stephen had recovered his self-assured manner. He entered wearing one of his expensive suits, smiling and looking rather cocky—even Mona thought so. But by the end of that day, he appeared pale and shaken. The government investigators presented document after document—boring in their details but clearly showing his deliberate duplicity. After three days of testimony by investigators and by two of his business associates, the jury deliberated over a weekend and brought in a guilty verdict. Sentencing was the same day—confiscation of all the assets held by his companies, in payment of the fines, and ten years in a federal penitentiary.
Mona felt turned to stone. She saw that Stephen’s face was twisted with rage. Her parents went to him, and he received their consolation coldly, not moving, not putting his arms around them, enduring their embraces. Mona’s heart was breaking. Her father was weeping, and her mother looked as if she might faint.
Mona went, just before Stephen was led away, and put her arms around him. He was stiff and unyielding. “Don’t worry about me, Sis,” he said. “I’ll get out, and they won’t catch me again. I’ll be smarter next time.”
“Oh, Stephen,” Mona whispered, but then the guard was there, and her brother disappeared, his back erect and anger written in every line of his body.
R
everend Harlan Crabtree came asking for Richard, and when the young man came out, the two shook hands. The minister said without preamble, “Richard, I want you to preach Sunday morning.”
Dusk had begun to fall, and the swallows were making their swooping, wheeling turns in the gathering darkness. For a moment Richard thought he had misunderstood the man. “Preach? You mean this
coming
Sunday?”
Crabtree stood on the porch smiling. He’d left the motor running on his ancient Oldsmobile coupe. He said reassuringly, “I think it’s time, Richard.”
“But I don’t even know how to put a sermon together! I haven’t been to Bible school.”
“I don’t suppose Elijah went to Bible school,” Crabtree said dryly. “I think this is important for you, Richard—and don’t worry about the sermon. Nobody expects a Billy Graham message for a first-time sermon from a young man. One thing you’ll want to do is give your testimony, how God has dealt with you throughout your life. Then anything else you’d care to add—why, we’ll just look on it as a bonus.”
Richard moved his feet uneasily and twisted his shoulders. “I–I’m not sure that it’s time.”
“I think it is. I been praying about it some time, and the impression came very strong this morning in my quiet time.” He put his hand on the young man’s shoulder, squeezed it, and said, “All right. Can I count on you?”
“Well, if you think so, Brother Crabtree. I’ll do it, but don’t expect too much.”
When Tom stopped by the Stuart farm, he found Logan and Mona engaged in a game of checkers. After they invited him in and offered him a glass of tea, which he accepted, he sat down and watched them for a while. It amused him to see that Logan took checkers seriously.
“I got a reputation to maintain,” Logan growled and slammed a checker down in a triple jump.
“You’re too good for me,” Mona commented. “I give up.” She had returned to Arkansas to recuperate from the emotional aftermath of Stephen’s trial and to see Tom. The home place was an infirmary at present, for Anne had recently succumbed to pneumonia, and Logan was grieving her death.
Logan stood to his feet, stretched his back, nodded. “You entertain Tom. I gotta go out and feed the cows.”
After the old man left, Tom said, “I came to invite you to church Sunday.”
Mona was surprised, and she hesitated. “I don’t go to church much.”
“I think you’ll like it this Sunday. The minister will be a relative of yours.”
Looking up with surprise, she asked, “Uncle Owen’s coming?”
“No, another relative. Richard’s going to preach. He told me this morning.”
Mona smiled and laced her fingers together, then stretched. “I
would
like to hear that.”
“Service starts at eleven. I’ll pick you up at ten thirty.” He rose, then hesitated. “Feel like going for a walk?”
They took the path towards Logan’s pond. “Any decisions yet?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, Tom,” Mona shrugged. She was wearing a pair of worn jodhpurs and a white silk blouse, with a navy blue silk scarf tied around her neck. She ran her hand through her hair. “Life’s passing me by. I’m getting to be an old woman. Pretty soon I won’t be able to play anything but character roles.”
They stopped at a wood fence and leaned on it as they talked. “You’re not old,” he said. He reached over and touched her cheek. She looked up at him, blinking with surprise. “You’ve got the complexion of an eighteen-year-old.”
He drew his hand back as if a thought had come to him, and she demanded instantly, “What is it, Tom?”
“Nothing.”
Mona studied his face carefully. “I don’t know what it is with you,” she murmured. “At times you just go into a room and slam a door and hang a sign out, No trespassing! Keep out!”
Surprised, Henderson lifted his eyes. “I didn’t mean to show that to you.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk about things.”
An ivory-billed woodpecker lit on a tall pine forty feet away and began drilling a hole, looking for the grubs within. Henderson watched it for a while, seeming not to have heard her. Then he turned to her abruptly. “I guess I do hide from people. I told you once I was battered by life, and part of it was my wife.”
