The Road to Mercy (31 page)

The painkillers, now gone from Beth’s system, had once been necessary to keep the devastating pain at bay, but they had also lured her with beautiful lies that she could forget her past, masking the truth of her situation.

She’d had to wean herself not only from the drugs but also from the denial that had lived inside her for years. She’d had to come to the realization that the only way to find true forgiveness was through repentance and confession.

God had forgiven her a long time ago. But she had never forgiven herself. She would never forget the past, but she could now put it behind her.

With a shovel in hand, she spaded the loose soil alongside her back garden fence. It was a great place to plant summer flowers—and to bury her past.

She took a breath of fresh spring air and looked around. New life exploded in every direction. The dogwood trees were in full bloom, and the purple clematis wound their way around the trellis beside the patio.

Gratitude filled Beth’s spirit to overflowing. Many difficult days were now behind her, and she looked to the future with the eyes of faith.

She slipped the rusty red bear inside the gossamer bag she had made for him and gently placed the bag into the hole. Then, shovel-by-shovel, she covered it with dirt.

Ryan, can I see you in the back lounge?”

Josh’s lithe, sandy-haired road manager cracked open a bottle of spring water and took a long swig before answering. “Sure, man. What’s up?”

Without comment, Josh led the way through the bunkroom, careful not to awaken those already sleeping. He closed the bunkroom door behind them. “Have a seat.”

Ryan flashed a tentative smile and lowered himself onto the left-side sofa.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but I have no choice,” Josh said, watching Ryan shift slightly in his seat. “Remember when we talked about the missing merchandise money a while back?”

Ryan nodded.

“I had hoped it would work itself out. That we would find out it was a mistake. You know, accidental.”

Ryan looked directly at him, his eyes intense, but said nothing.

“It appears it’s no accident.” Josh ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat opposite his adversary. “Someone is stealing from me.”

“Do you know who it is?” Ryan’s mouth twitched, his expression wavering between surprise and affirmation. “Remember what I told you—”

Josh held up his right hand, signaling for Ryan to stop. “Are you stealing from me, man?”

“Josh . . . me? No. Why would you think that?”

“Because I’ve seen both sets of books and the wrong set is in your handwriting.”

“What? Two? That’s impossible.” His road manager’s lip quivered. “Are you kidding?”

“I wish I was,” Josh cleared his throat and watched desperation, and then inspiration, cross Ryan’s face.

“Now I get it . . . I’ve been set up.” Ryan slapped his thigh. “Sometimes, when Mitch turns in his papers, I rewrite them. You know what a perfectionist I am.” His eyes pleaded for a connection.

“That doesn’t explain everything.”

“C’mon, man. It’s not what you think.” Ryan’s gaze moved from Josh to the floor and back again. He paused to take a breath. “Hear me out, please. Your problem is with Mitch and Danny.”

“How can you say that?” Josh shook his head. Why couldn’t Ryan just admit his offense? He drew in a deep breath and considered his words. “So how do you know that?”

“Because Danny offered to cut me in when I questioned him. Remember when we talked before?” Ryan sounded so believable. “I know I should have followed up with you about it before now. But I wanted to wait until this trip was over. You have so much on your—”

“So you just found out about it?”

“Yeah, man, I promise. Just this week.”

Could Ryan be telling the truth? It was possible that Mitch could doctor the books on his own.

But Danny?
No way was he involved
.

“I know you think Danny is perfect. But he’s not the loyal, meek little Christian you think he is. He’s a lot different when he’s with the rest of the guys,” Ryan snorted. “I’ve always thought he was capable of something like this. He’s a two-faced—”

“Stop it.” Josh had had enough. “Where’s your proof that Mitch and Danny are involved?”

“I realize this makes me look culpable. I should have said something sooner, but I’ve suspected for a while that Danny and Mitch were stealing from you.” He lowered his voice as if he feared someone would hear him above the roar of the bus engine beneath them.

“But can you prove it?”

Ryan stared out the window of the bus for a moment, looking into the darkness. “I have proof at my house,” he said. “I have the original merchandise paperwork in my files. The sales reports that are in Mitch’s handwriting.” Ryan’s confidence seemed to grow with every word he spoke. “I wish I had brought this to you earlier. I had really hoped I was wrong, but now I know I wasn’t.”

“When can I see the evidence?”

“This week.”

Josh rummaged through his bag for his songwriting journal and tore out a blank piece of paper. He scribbled Bob Bradford’s office address on it. “Here,” he said, holding the paper out to his road manager. “Meet me at my accountant’s office at 9:30 a.m. on Tuesday.”

Ryan rose to his feet. “I will be happy to.”

“And bring everything,” Josh said.

“Everything,” Ryan repeated.

“You’re going to have to prove this to me,” Josh said before Ryan punched the button that opened the door. “You’re their
supervisor. The merchandise reports are in your handwriting, so the burden of proof rests with you.”

“Understood,” Ryan said, as he left, closing the door behind him.

Josh reflected for a few minutes on the conversation, thinking back to everything Bob Bradford had told him. Could Ryan be telling the truth?

He shook his head. There was no way he had misjudged Danny. At least in his mind, his friend was innocent until proven guilty, even if Ryan’s words left reason to doubt.

A few minutes later Josh made his way through the semidarkness of the bunkroom, heading toward the front of the bus. Ryan’s curtain was closed, an indication that he had gone to bed. In fact, every curtain was now closed.

Josh decided to keep Danny company for a while before turning in for the night.

Raindrops exploded on the windshield as the bus navigated the wet superhighway. It had been thirty minutes since they crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky, heading home on Interstate 24.

Josh threw a handful of M&M’s into his mouth. “That’s almost hail,” he said.

Danny nodded, fighting the steering wheel only a few feet from where Josh sat. “It’s the wind that worries me. Hail won’t do more than raise the insurance premium. This wind is dangerous.”

“I can feel it.” Josh tightened his fingers around the arm of the jump seat.

“They said on the radio an eighteen-wheeler blew off the road in Clarksville. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

“Have you talked to anyone in Nashville?” Josh asked.

“I called my dad earlier. He said it was rough there too.”

Josh considered calling Beth, but it was one o’clock in the morning. Besides, their last few conversations had been less than pleasant. She had been moody every time they had spoken recently. They had plenty to discuss when he got home. No need to stir things up now.

A gust of wind and Danny’s voice snapped Josh back to the moment.

“Why don’t you get some rest, boss? I can handle this.” Danny gave him a sideways glance.

“I suppose I should. Beth has a doctor appointment in the morning.”

A few minutes later, Josh climbed, fully clothed, into bed. No need to get too comfortable with just a few hours to sleep before they arrived in Nashville.

Only the sound of the diesel engine filled his ears, but he could feel the sway of the bus as it cut through the stormy night. Judging from the way the big coach rocked back and forth, the wind had increased. Yet, while it didn’t take long before sleep overtook him, he awakened into a dark dream world.

The briny taste of salt wet his lips and stung his eyes. Somehow he knew he was inside the belly of a great whale. A shiver of terror passed through him, and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw a man standing nearby. The man looked at him, smiled, and then began to pray.

Josh knew instantly it was Jonah.

Without warning, the fish wrenched from side to side, and Josh fell into the midst of the hot sordid rot of the fish’s void. When he looked up, Jonah had disappeared. Still, Josh sensed he was not alone. Comfort began to spread throughout his body, like warm seawater running through his veins. In the
utter blackness of this alien place, God spoke to him, making a promise.

Everything will be all right
.

Almost immediately, Josh felt a rumbling that started deep within the great fish. A rush of water caught him up. He twirled and swirled within the putrid water, which now oddly reeked of brimstone. Josh flailed his arms, fearing he would drown within it. Then he felt himself being expelled from the murky prison.

It was then Josh realized that he had awakened from his dream into a nightmare. The black Prevost was out of control. He had ridden the highways for years, long enough to know what was happening. They were being tossed around unmercifully by the storm. He could hear the wind and the rain slamming into them. He could hear it above the whine of the engine. The smooth road had become rutted. The straight path crooked.

Life itself was on the line.

He did his best to sit up. He wanted to walk the hallway to the front of the bus and to see his fate. Before he could move, the world began to roll. He reached for the top of his bunk—or was it the bottom? And he held on.

They rolled and rolled and rolled.

Oh, God, please
 . . .

The scream of the phone startled Beth from sleep. She looked at the bedside clock. A call at four in the morning never brought good news. Especially when Josh was on the road. She answered with breathy apprehension.

“Mrs. Harrison. This is Officer Wayne Pugh of the Kentucky Highway Patrol. Your husband has been injured in a bus accident.”

Beth sat up in bed. “Is he . . . Is he okay?”

“He has been taken to Four Rivers Hospital in Paducah.”

A few minutes later, Beth held her stomach, trying not to retch again, while Alex dialed the phone.

“This is Alexandra Hayes. I’m calling about Joshua Harrison. I’m calling for his wife. Yes. I can wait.” She gave the phone to Beth.

Beth listened to music on hold for what seemed to be an eternity.

“Neurological ICU.”

“Yes . . . this is Bethany Harrison. My husband is a patient. I’m calling to find out how he’s doing.”

“Harrison? Yes, he’s stable, ma’am. He’s unconscious, but stable.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you at this time. However, I can have the doctor call you.”

“Please . . . he can call my cell number. I’m leaving Nashville now and should be there in about three hours.” Beth gave her number to the nurse and then repeated details aloud about the location of the hospital so Alex could take notes.

A few minutes later, Alex had their bags packed. “I’ve got my keys. We need to get going,” she said.

“Let’s take Josh’s Jeep,” Beth said, blinking back tears. “We can make better time in the rain.”

Beth watched as Alex gripped the steering wheel, and the Jeep fought its way through a windblown downpour. Rain pelted the windshield. Alex eased her foot on and off the accelerator, navigating through pools of water and passing slower-moving vehicles.

Although Beth wanted to be there as soon as possible, she knew her friend was doing the best she could. Visibility was little more than ten feet ahead. Without warning, they would come upon eighteen-wheelers and other vehicles in ditches or pulled off the side of the road. Some temporarily escaped the hammering rain by parking beneath overpasses. But Alex never hinted that she wanted to stop.

Daylight broke about the time they crossed the double bridges, which spanned the Tennessee River in Kentucky. They drove most of the way in silence. Twice, Beth called the hospital, hoping to learn more about Josh. She was told only that his condition hadn’t changed. A few times, she and Alex
prayed out loud, for Josh, and for the others who had been riding the bus.