The Glorious Prodigal (38 page)

Stuart lifted his head quickly and stared at his father. “Proud of me?”

“Yes. And I want to tell you that you’re the kind of son I’ve always wanted.”

“You’re proud of me for not fighting?”

“I’m proud of you for doing whatever was necessary in order to stay with your family and take care of them.” Richard had struggled over this speech all the way out from town, and now he said quickly, “I’ve been wrong about you, son. I’ve waited to see you prove yourself. I should have greeted you with open arms, but I was too stubborn. I have to ask you to forgive me for that.”

The words caught Stuart off guard. “Why, of course I will, Dad, but I’m the prodigal son. Not a very glorious prodigal, though.”

“You are to me, Stuart. As soon as I heard how you had let yourself be beaten, I was proud of you. I knew you were a changed man. And I know you’re not a coward. But I knew something had changed in you. All your life you were selfish, but you weren’t selfish this afternoon. You let yourself be disgraced in your own eyes, although not in the eyes of others, for the sake of your family.” Richard suddenly stepped forward and put his arm around Stuart’s shoulder. “I’m very proud of you, my boy, and I hope to show it more as days go on.”

The warmth of his father’s arm across his shoulder was a marvelous thing to Stuart. He had longed for his acceptance and approval for years, all of his life perhaps, and now it had come almost like a gift from heaven. He stood there silently savoring the moment and said, “I wish Raimey could understand.”

“He will understand. I promise you,” Richard said. He stood there not removing his arm. “We’ll show him, you and I and Leah.”

The moment held deep meaning and healing for Stuart Winslow, and finally he turned and put his arms around his father. Huskily he said, “Thanks, Dad.”

The two men stood there in the growing darkness. Both of them knew, somehow, that a bridge had been built—that never again would they be separated as they had been—and
both of them understood that what had just happened was a miracle from God.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A Matter of Fate

As soon as Raimey entered the door, Leah knew that something was wrong. Ordinarily he came in filling the house with his noise and demanding cookies or cake and milk. This day, however, was different, for she saw that he kept his face turned to one side and attempted to make his way to his room without stopping.

“What’s the matter, Raimey?”

“Nothing!”

“Wait a minute.” Leah saw that the boy did not intend to wait, so she followed him down the hall, took him by the shoulders, and turned him around. One side of his face caused her to draw a deep breath, and she put out her hand, exclaiming, “Who did this to you, son?”

“It don’t make no difference,” Raimey muttered.

“Go into the bathroom. I’m going to have to clean you up. That’s a bad cut you’ve got there.”

Raimey obeyed her silently. When she got to the bathroom, she dampened a cloth and wiped away the blood from a cut on his cheek. That side of his face was so puffy that his eye was half closed. Carefully she cleaned the wound, applied Mercurochrome, and then took him by the shoulders.

“What happened to you? Were you in a fight?” When he did not answer, she said sternly, “Son, you’ve got to tell me about things like this. Who was it?”

“It was Ralph Cunningham. We got into it after school.”

“What was the fight about?”

“What difference does it make?” Raimey shook his head. “He whipped me this time, but he’s two years older. You just wait. I’ll get him later!”

“What was the fight about, Raimey?”

Dropping his eyes for a moment, Raimey was silent. When he looked up there was pain in his expression, and he muttered, “He called Dad a bad name. Said he was a dirty, stinking, rotten coward and a jailbird.”

Pain swept through Leah, but she knew she had to handle this. “People have been saying that for a long time, Raimey. I thought you had learned to deal with it.”

“It’s different now. Everybody knows that Dad wouldn’t fight Hack Wilson. They’re saying he’s a coward.”

“Well, he’s not. He never was. Your father’s one of the bravest men I’ve ever known.”

“He didn’t show it in town when he let Wilson beat up on him.”

“We’ve talked about that, Raimey. Now let me make this clear to you. If your father fights, he’ll go back to the penitentiary. Do you want that?”

Raimey shook his head and muttered. “No. No, ma’am. I don’t want that—”

“Well, what would you have him do, then? He didn’t have any other choice.”

“I don’t know, Mom. It’s just so hard to have everybody talkin’ about your dad like that.”

“Not everybody’s talking about him. Just those who don’t have any judgment. How many times have I heard you say how dumb Ralph Cunningham is? He’s just a bully, and that’s all he’s ever been.”

Raimey gnawed on his lower lip. Ever since the fight he had been torn between two storms of emotion. One was the affection that had recently come into his life for his father. It was one of the most meaningful things he had ever known. For years he had felt deprived of something that other boys had. After his father had come home and they had made their
peace, Raimey had been filled with a deep sense of satisfaction and belonging he had not dreamed possible.

But now that had been all taken from him. Although his mind could understand what his mother was saying, something in him would not accept it. Finally he simply said, “I don’t know, Mom. It’s just that I can’t get it straight in my head.”

Leah put her arm around Raimey’s shoulder. “Son, part of growing up is learning to accept the limitations of those we love. When we find something lacking in our parents or brother or sister or even a friend, we have to accept it as part of who they are. Your father has a limitation. He’s been in prison. He would be the first to tell you it was his own fault. You’ve heard him say so, haven’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, then. That’s his limitation, and part of that limitation is that he can’t defend himself. You’re going to have to accept that, and you’re going to have to love him just as much, even though he has that limitation. No matter what people say, you’re going to have to cling to him, and you’re going to have to let him know that you do. He needs that right now.”

Raimey felt a sense of shame, and the part of him that loved his father seemed very strong at the moment. “I know, Mom. I just don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

“There’s nothing the matter with you, Raimey,” Leah said, squeezing his shoulders. “You’re just learning how to become a man. Friendship and love are a matter of faith. I didn’t always have that kind of faith in your father. I should have stood behind him all the time he was in prison, but I was weak and gave up. I failed God, Raimey. And I’m so ashamed of it. I can’t go back and undo that now,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. “All I can do is ask God to forgive me and to do all I can now to show your father that I’ve forgiven him and I love him and I trust him. I think you’re going to have to learn how to do that, too.”

Raimey considered all his mother’s words and then nodded slightly. “I’ll try, Mom. I’ll really try hard.”

After Raimey left to go to his room, Leah took off her apron and went out to the feed lot, where she found Stuart at the never-ending task of feeding the pigs. He turned at once and, seeing her, came to her. She took his hand and said, “Walk with me a little.”

“Well, walking with you is better than feeding pigs.”

Leah’s eyes swept his face and saw that he was trying his best to hide his unhappiness. When they were past the pig lot, they walked along the edge of the woods, not speaking for a while, the tall pines towering over them. Finally she stopped and took his arm. When he turned around to face her, she said, “I need to tell you something. Raimey was in a fight today.”

Instantly Stuart’s mouth became a thin white line. “About me, I suppose.”

“Yes, it was. That Cunningham boy started it, and Raimey couldn’t take it, so they got into a fight.”

Overhead, the wind stirred the evergreens, making a whispering sound. High in the sky a red-tailed hawk circled, looking for prey, and from far off came the yapping sound of a dog that had treed something.

“I don’t know what to do, Leah,” Stuart said simply. “If I fight back, I’ll go back to prison.”

“You did the right thing, Stuart. I was so proud of you. So was your father. So was everyone who understands. Raimey’s just young, but he’ll come around.” She reached up, pulled his head down, and kissed him. “God has given us a second chance,” she said quietly, and strength seemed to flow out of her as she held her hands behind his neck. “And we’re going to make the most of it. No bully like Hack Wilson or that Cunningham boy is going to change that.”

“It’s going to be hard, Leah. Wilson’s not going to give up. There’ll be others.”

“It doesn’t matter. God is greater than any Hack Wilson, isn’t He?”

A reluctant smile tugged at Stuart’s lips. “You’re right there. Thanks for reminding me.” The two continued their walk, and as they did, he said, “You know. I want to do something, and I’d like to hear your idea about it.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to go to church Sunday and make a public confession of what I did, and then give a testimony of how God has delivered me.”

“I think that would be wonderful, Stuart. And Brother Fields will be so happy. So will your family. Especially your dad.”

“All right. I’ll do it, then. I’ve been walking around making that speech up all day. I don’t know if I can get through it.”

“You can do it,” Leah whispered. She squeezed his arm and added, “I know you can, Stuart.”

****

Brother Fields had finished his sermon and was about to pronounce the benediction. During the message his eye had gone often to Stuart Winslow, as had the eyes of others in the congregation. Stuart and Leah had come in with the children and taken Leah’s customary seat in the front exactly behind Richard and Diane Winslow. Fields had ignored the stir and the whispers, but he was well aware that more attention was paid to Stuart Winslow than to his sermon. As a matter of fact, he himself had felt somewhat rattled. He had so often urged Stuart to come to church, and Stuart had always refused. But now he was here, and as he attempted to preach, Fields had been wondering whether to say a word about Stuart’s appearance. He had finally decided not to, and now as he said the familiar words, “We’ll have the benediction now—”

“Brother Fields, may I say a word?”

Fields stopped abruptly and saw that Stuart had risen. There was something in the tall man’s eyes that gave the
preacher a pause, but he said at once, “Of course, Brother Winslow. Take all the time you need.”

Stuart stepped out of the pew and moved to the front of the church. He turned and let his eyes go over the congregation. An immense silence filled the room, and every eye was fixed on him as he said, “I won’t take very long, but there’s something that I need to say to all of you. I don’t think I need to go over my story. But for those of you who may be new, I’m here to confess that as a young man I didn’t serve God. I broke the law and went to prison. I failed my wife, my father and mother, my family. I failed the members of this church and the pastor by not being faithful to God.”

Richard Winslow sat stiffly upright, and he felt Diane take his hand and squeeze it hard. He returned the pressure, and his heart seemed to beat very fast as he listened to his son’s words.

“When I was in prison, through the witness of a godly man, I found Jesus Christ. Since that time I’ve tried to serve Him, and God miraculously delivered me from prison. When I came home I determined to serve the Lord with all of my heart, and I’m still determined to do that.” Stuart looked down for a moment and did not go on. When he finally lifted his head, everyone in the congregation saw that there were tears in his eyes. “I want to ask every one of you to forgive me, for I need your forgiveness.”

No one moved or spoke for what seemed like a very long time. And then suddenly a commotion caused everyone to turn. Richard Winslow had risen to his feet. He was in the center of the pew, and as he made his way out, he stumbled over the feet of his fellow worshipers. Reaching the aisle, he turned and moved forward, holding his arms out. “My son,” he said and could get no more out. When he reached the front, he threw his arms around Stuart and sobbed. Diane had followed him, and Stuart stood there holding his parents, all three of them weeping.

And then there was what amounted to a stampede. It
seemed as though everyone moved at the same time, crowding into the aisles. Stuart felt hands pounding his shoulder, touching his head, pulling at his arm. He could not believe what was happening.

Someone started singing “Amazing Grace,” and the old church echoed with the joyful sounds.

Leah finally managed to get to Stuart, although many were hugging her, and she could barely see through the tears. She held tightly to Merry’s hand and was aware that Raimey was in front of her. By the time they had made their way through the throng, she saw that Stuart had seen Raimey and had dropped to one knee and thrown his arms around him. She heard Raimey, with his voice muffled and pressed against his father’s chest, saying, “I love you, Dad. I always will.”

Charles Fields had stepped back to watch as the entire congregation surged forward to forgive Stuart. His wife had come up to stand beside him, with tears running down her cheeks. He put his arm around her and said, “This is what being a Christian is about, isn’t it, honey?”

“Yes, it is.”

The two stood there and watched as seemingly every person in the church came by to shake Stuart’s hands or embrace him and his wife. And as they did, Reverend Fields knew that God was still in the business of forgiving and changing people.

****

“It looks good, Mistah Stuart. It shore do.”