The Sacrifice (17 page)

Ben held up his right hand. “The strength of this hand wasn't able to save me that day. It took a hand from heaven to take over where flesh and blood failed.”

The minister leaned forward. “Kay, no matter the ferocity of the river of life's troubles you find yourself in, no matter how helpless and hurt you feel, no matter what lies behind or lurks ahead, ‘The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.' That's who he is, and that's where he is.”

Kay sighed. “I think I'm somewhere between the top of the falls and the pool at the bottom.”

“Then underneath are the everlasting arms,” Ben added.

“I hope so,” Kay said.

“Maybe that's why you visited the church this morning,” Linda said. “To be reminded that the Lord is with you in a time of trouble.”

“Yep.” Ben looked over at the dessert table. “Telling stories makes me hungry. I'd like dessert.”

Ben picked out a generous piece of coconut pie. Linda and Kay each chose a small bowl of fresh strawberries topped with whipped cream.

As they were finishing dessert, Kay said, “I have a question. The beagle puppy in the story. What happened to him?”

Ben laughed. “Oh, Buster lived a long life. And he always loved the water.”

At home, Kay closed the door of her apartment and leaned against it for a few seconds. She was still not in the mood to grade papers. She went into her bedroom. On the floor of her closet were several boxes she hadn't unpacked since moving from Virginia Beach. She searched through them until she found what she was looking for—a pink Bible she'd received in a fifth-grade Sunday school class. Inside, she'd carefully written the date and her name in her best, elementary-school handwriting.

She found chapter 33 of Deuteronomy and sitting on the floor read the entire passage. She'd never considered the beauty and power of the Bible's imagery. Moses' blessing of the twelve tribes was not a dusty litany. As she read, it became a rich, vibrant declaration. She took the Bible into the living room and curled up on the couch with her notebook and pen. At the top of a blank page, she wrote, “The Everlasting Arms.”

13

Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

K
ING
H
ENRY
IV, P
ART
I, S
CENE 5

T
helma Garrison sat down in the reception area of the youth detention center. The room was full of strange voices as parents and relatives talked while waiting their turns to visit a wayward teen in the lockup area. Thelma's niece, Bonnie, had driven the blind woman to the YDC for the Sunday-afternoon visit.

They waited an hour before a female officer called out, “Mrs. Garrison?”

“I'm over here,” Mrs. Garrison responded anxiously.

“She's blind,” Bonnie said, standing to her feet. “Can I help guide her?”

Thelma held on to Bonnie's elbow as they followed the officer down the hallway to the dining room. Lester was sitting alone at one of the round tables.

“Hi, Lester,” Bonnie said.

“Hi,” Lester responded.

Bonnie guided Thelma to a chair. “I'm going to leave you two alone.”

After she was settled, Thelma asked, “Where are you, Son?”

“I'm here, Granny.”

Thelma reached out her hand. It was gnarled and wrinkled and shook slightly. Lester leaned sideways and avoided her reach.

“Are you okay?” Thelma asked.

Lester felt the cut over his eye. It was healing quickly. “Yeah.”

“Has anybody bothered you? Are you getting enough to eat?”

Questions started pouring out of the old woman. All the ruminations of her long hours alone with anxiety spilled over. “Do you have a good bed? Is there anybody from your school in this place? What are they going to do with you?”

Lester grunted in reply. Finally, he broke the string of his grandmother's inquiries by asking about Jack, a shorthaired brown mutt that he'd raised from a little pup.

“How's Jack?”

Thelma shook her head. “He's pitiful. I don't think he comes out from under the porch except at suppertime. He misses you sore.”

“Are you feeding him?”

“Yeah. But he needs you. When are you going to come home?”

Lester scowled. “If it was up to the district attorney, I'd never get out. I don't know when I'm going to get out of this place. My lawyer doesn't tell me anything.”

Thelma reached out her hand again. “Move your chair over here.”

This time Lester didn't try to avoid her. He picked up his chair and put it beside his grandmother's right hand. “Okay. I'm here.”

Thelma groped into the darkness until she felt his shoulder. She ran her hand down his arm, unaware of the swastika tattoo that passed under her fingers.

“It's good to be with you, Lester,” she said. “I've missed you more than Jack has.”

Lester bit his lower lip. “I've missed you, too, Granny. I'm ready to come home.”

The following morning Scott had a dentist appointment and didn't arrive at the office until after 10 A.M. He only had one message on his voice mail—a call from Harold Garrison.

“I'm in Omaha. What's going on with Lester? When is he getting out? I just called my mother, and she said he was in more trouble now than when you took the case. I told you I wanted some good news.” Click.

“Have a nice day in Omaha,” Scott said to the silent receiver.

He spent the rest of the morning preparing for the bond reduction hearing he'd scheduled that afternoon in Lester's case. He called Thelma Garrison, and she immediately agreed to pledge her house as security on a bond. He then drove to the county tax office and determined that the house and land had an appraised value of $42,000. He obtained certified copies of the documents he would need.

Lester was in the courtroom with a female correctional officer from the YDC when Scott arrived for the hearing. Apparently, Lester wasn't considered a sufficient security risk to require a male guard. No one else was in the courtroom. Scott sat down on the bench next to his client.

“What am I doing here?” Lester asked. “Is the D.A. making up more charges against me for things I didn't do?”

“No, I filed a motion to reduce your bond. The judge will come out in a few minutes and let me argue my request. I talked with your grandmother. She's willing to put up her house as security for your release.”

“Does that mean I'm going home today?”

“Maybe. If the judge sets a bond less than the value of your grandmother's house, we may be able to get the paperwork signed by five o'clock.”

“She told me she wanted me at home when she came to see me at the YDC.”

Scott glanced at Lester and tried to imagine how the young man would look through a grandmother's uncritical eyes. Then he remembered. The old woman was blind.

“We need to get ready,” Scott said. “I'm going to ask you a few questions in front of the judge: ‘Do you have a place to live?'; ‘Are you going to school?'; ‘Do you realize that you'll have to come back to court?' Be respectful. This is the judge's first chance to hear from you.”

“I'm not stupid.”

In a few minutes Lynn Davenport and Judge Teasley entered the courtroom.

The judge sat down and looked at Scott. “Proceed, counsel.”

“Your honor, I've filed a Motion for Reduction of Bond, and in support of the motion I call Lester Garrison.”

Lester ambled over to the witness stand and raised his thin white arm. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt and his tattoos remained incognito.

Scott asked a few preliminary questions, then said, “Tell the judge where you will live if you are released on bond.”

Lester turned in the chair toward Judge Teasley. “I live with my blind grandma. She needs me around the house and to take her to the grocery store. My father is a truckdriver, and he's gone all the time, so I'm all she's got.”

“Are you in school?” Scott asked.

“Yes, sir. I'm a junior at Catawba.”

“Will you return to school?”

“I want to go to school. The longer I stay at the YDC the more behind I'm getting in my schoolwork, and I really want to graduate next year.”

“Will you be in court when scheduled to appear in your case?”

“Yes, sir. I have my own truck. I bought it after working at a mill last summer.”

“That's all.”

Lester was an admirable actor. A much better witness than Scott would have guessed.

“Ms. Davenport,” the judge said. “You may question the witness.”

To Scott's surprise and relief, the D.A. stood and said, “No questions, your honor. My only concern is that if the defendant is released, he will seek to harass and intimidate potential witnesses.”

“When do you intend to call the case for trial?” the judge asked.

“As soon as possible. We have the Anderson murder case pending for trial in two weeks, but there is ongoing discussion in that case with counsel for the defendant, and it may be resolved by plea agreement. Everything else on the calendar can be shuffled around.”

The judge looked down at Lester and twirled his glasses once.

“I'm going to set bond at $40,000. If the defendant is able to satisfy the bond, I instruct him not to have any contact with the state's witnesses once he leaves the youth detention center. He is further ordered to attend school regularly and spend the remainder of his time at his grandmother's residence, only leaving to assist with her care, go to school, meet with his attorney, or appear in court. Of course, any illegal activity on his part will result in revocation of his bond and an immediate return to custody. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” Scott said.

Lester looked up at the judge from the witness chair and with the respect of a summer law clerk said, “Thank you, your honor.”

At five-thirty that evening, Lester Garrison walked out of the YDC and got into Bonnie's car. She took him to Bojangles for chicken and biscuits, and on the way home he ate three biscuits and four pieces of chicken. When the car approached Thelma's house, Jack heard the sound of the engine, crawled out from underneath the front porch, and gave a few halfhearted barks. Bonnie's car was a familiar sight.

Lester rolled down the window and called out, “Jack! Jack!”

At the sound of his master's voice, the dog bolted down the driveway in a brown flash. Bonnie stopped the car, and Lester got out to greet his four-legged friend. Jack ran excitedly in circles and jumped up to lick Lester's face when his master knelt down to pat his head. Lester laughed. Jack was the only creature on earth who could make Lester smile.

Lester's dented, white Ford pickup truck with the green tailgate was parked under a huge oak tree in the front yard. He'd bought the truck for $1,800 after working double shifts during the summer at a local textile mill. While Lester was at the YDC, a junk dealer had knocked on Thelma's front door and asked if she wanted him to haul the truck away for no charge.