Despite the cold following a late-spring snowstorm, Nancy wanted the little supper club to meet, and Carla was fine with that. The roads were dry. And to the surprise of both Nancy and Carla, Rita said Patrice had called her and volunteered to drive; otherwise Rita admitted she would have bowed out. And it was Patrice who broke away from small talk as they were finishing up Nancy’s stuffed pork chops.
“What happened with the gal who was pregnant?” She looked at Carla.
“Oh, Marlene? Well… she decided not to abort.”
“Mmm.”
Carla glanced at Rita. “Rita and I were talking. We’re not sure how much bearing our little written arguments may have had on the situation. We’re thinking that Midge, Marlene’s friend who brought her to our meeting, probably had a huge influence on her, because Midge has had a baby that she gave up for adoption. I apologized to Rita, and I need to apologize to you, too, Patrice. I completely forgot to mention it last month. Honest.”
Patrice cocked her head in full interest. “Midge has had a baby? Really! When?”
“Ooh, I’m not sure. I think she had it not this past summer but the summer before—in August.”
“Oh.”
Nancy passed the bread to Rita. “She had a really positive experience, Pat, and that had to have influenced Marlene a lot. Midge plans to go to college come fall, and the baby has wonderful adoptive parents.”
“Do they live in Rock Pier?”
“They do, don’t they, Carla?” Nancy asked.
“I think so. The little boy is extraordinarily cute, my mom says.”
“Is he healthy?”
“Is he healthy?” Carla reiterated, not hiding her surprise at Patrice’s numerous questions. “As far as I know, although I think I heard he was briefly hospitalized once. I’m not sure for what.”
“Hmm.” Patrice buttered a piece of bread and let the subject drop.
“I hope it works out well,” Rita offered, in an obvious effort to unify the group.
“Sure. I do, too.” Patrice said, smiling, but she was even less talkative than usual for the remainder of the evening.
On the way home, Rita suggested the two of them meet Sunday afternoon to walk together. She told Patrice that Jim could use a little down time after Sunday morning service, and she could use the exercise as well as the company. Patrice agreed to this arrangement.
The following Sunday, Rita picked up Patrice and they drove to Fenton Park, choosing a path Rita had taken many times. They briskly walked in silence for a couple of minutes before Rita spoke.
“I noticed you were kind of quiet the other night after Carla told you Marlene had decided to keep the baby. May I ask what were you thinking about?”
Patrice shot a glance at Rita and then looked straight ahead. “I don’t know exactly,” she replied, shrugging indifferently. “I know I’d never go through a pregnancy at that age, but each to his own. What did you think when you heard?”
“Well, oddly enough, it didn’t bother me, especially when Carla told me that Midge whatever-her-name-is had a good experience with her pregnancy and adoption decision.” She laughed, raising her eyebrows. “I surprised myself. I’ve told you how pro-choice I’ve always been. Maybe having cancer has softened me, or something. I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?’
“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching, and being a die-hard pro-abortionist isn’t so important to me anymore. I can’t explain myself very well, but I know that life when it’s threatened comes out looking more like a gift than it ever did before—for me, at least.”
“How exactly do you soul-search? Do you just sit and think about things?”
“I guess it’s thinking with a purpose—to find answers to questions.”
“Like?”
“Like what’s it all about? What happens when we die? Is everything just over, or is there eternity?”
“Mmm. Things I don’t usually think about.”
“Exactly. Me either—until recently. You know, Patrice, my husband’s a minister, but I never had any desire to read the Bible until I got sick.” She smiled and looked at Patrice walking beside her. “I’m really kind of enjoying it.”
“Good,” Patrice responded, noncommittally.
The two walked in silence again for a few moments, and when the conversation resumed, it was pretty much small talk again. But they agreed to meet again the following Sunday.
……….
On a Saturday afternoon, Gene called for a family conference. Sal and Andy sat down with him in the family room. He announced that he wanted to take his family out to dinner, but that first he had something extremely important to talk about. He began by asking Andy to tell his mother the “proverb” he’d learned.
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” Andy said, looking pleased at his perfect memorization.
Sally smiled, and Gene said, “I’m very proud of you, son. You have a good mind, and you have a lot of wisdom already.”
“Thanks.” Andy smiled, obviously appreciating this positive attention to start off the family conference.
“Mom and I had been married seven years already before you came into our lives. But when we first got married, I was just getting started as a doctor.” Gene leaned forward, his arms on his knees and his hands clasped. “I was pretty smart—like you, and I had gone to school and studied hard a long time.” He looked keenly at Andy. “I was smart, but not wise, because I didn’t have the fear of the Lord in me. Say that verse again for us, son, would you?”
“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.”
“Now, Andy, does that mean being afraid of God is the beginning of wisdom?”
“Nope,” Andy replied, sitting tall so as to appear as grown up as possible. “It means respecting God is the beginning of wisdom.”
“You are absolutely right, son. Well, I didn’t respect God. So when Mom became pregnant, seven years before you were born, I decided we couldn’t afford to have a baby. Babies take a lot of time, and cost a lot of money, you know, and lots and lots of people make that same decision. You see, I didn’t have wisdom to know which was more important—a new baby, or my new job. And I chose my job,” he ended quietly.
“Your job?” Andy asked, obviously puzzled, and he looked over at his mother. Sally’s eyes filled with tears, as she slowly nodded.
“I have asked God to forgive me, Andy. Mom and I are so sorry.” Gene reached over to grasp Sal’s left hand. “Your mother wanted that baby very much. She loved him, tiny as he was, like she loved you when you were growing in her tummy. However, I was in charge, and I had no wisdom—no respect for God and His rules to help me make good decisions.”
Andy looked at his mother again as she wiped her eyes, then, with his face expressing uncertainty, gave his full attention again to his Dad.
“But God kept loving me, even when I didn’t respect Him and didn’t care at all about Him, and Mom kept loving me, too. And then God blessed me—us—so much when you came along. You’re only seven—almost eight, and you’re learning the Rule Maker’s Ten Commandments, aren’t you?”
Andy nodded, as serious as his father.
“But my father never taught them to me, and I was not wise. I just kept living by my own rules. Well, a few months ago, I guess God decided He didn’t want you to grow up without wisdom, so He made sure I got on track as your dad so I could teach you.” Gene held out his left arm for Andy to come to him, and he sat his son on his lap, motioning for Sally to scoot close on his right side.
“Will you forgive me, Andy?”
Andy nodded but, despite trying not to cry, was on the verge of doing so. Gene and Sally Chemosh embraced their son, assuring him it was OK to cry, and that they themselves had already cried. It was a cleansing, sympathetic bonding. After a while, Sally spoke.
“Andy, we want to name your big brother who never got to be born. Would you help us think of a name?”
Andy sat up straight, wiping his eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “Name him?” he asked, the new thought obviously welcome to him.
“Yes, son. He’s never had a name, but we want always to remember your brother.”
A broad smile broke out on Andy’s face as Gene and Sally exchanged a nudge unnoticed by him, expressing their relief at the amazing progress of this family conference.
“Can we name him Johnny—after Johnny Appleseed?” Andy didn’t notice his father gasp. “We learned about him last week. He was very brave.” The little boy’s demeanor was serious—even grave in this position of mutual responsibility with his parents. “There are lots of apple trees just because of him. And every time we eat an apple, we can think of Johnny Chemosh.” Andy was obviously proud and confident in his suggestion.
Unable to speak, Gene looked at Sal. She saw her husband’s eyes watering but didn’t understand the amazed look on his face.
“I think Johnny would be a great name.” She gave Andy a tight hug again. “In fact, it’s a wonderful name, Andy,” she reiterated. “Don’t you think so, Dad?”
Gene nodded emphatically, still unable to speak, although he mouthed the word, “Thanks,” to Andy. He stood up slowly, gently setting Andy back on his feet.
A few moments later, as he opened the car door for Sal and as Andy got into the car, Gene silently addressed the Rule Maker. “I’m overwhelmed. You are awesome. Thanks for naming my son and showing me again how amazing You are. ‘Johnny.’ I feel like I have him back.”
Back?
“Well, I feel he’s really part of our family now.”
There was that smile again. And a second baptism of love.
“God,” Gene whispered audibly as he opened the car door, “I do love You with all my heart.”
……….
In late June, Rita called Patrice to cancel their weekly walk, letting her know Kara had asked her at the last minute if they could go shopping together. Patrice didn’t mind. She looked forward to a possible opportunity to see Austin again. Purchasing a coffee to sip on, she drove in the direction of the Mackey house. Having the time and determination, she drove past it four times at irregular intervals with no sight of any of the family. She was ready to give up her effort to surreptitiously observe them when, on the fifth drive-by, the garage door opened and a green van backed out onto the street.
Patrice, of course, had to keep driving and turned off immediately so as to be able to follow at a discreet distance. Two other cars were thankfully between hers and the Mackey van. She followed them several miles and then into the covered parking garage at the new Warmilla Mall. Finding a parking space was difficult, and she lost track of the little family.
Once inside the mall, however, she sat down close to the play area for young children, on the hunch that Austin would get to have a little fun on his own. She was enjoying a pretzel and a fresh coffee, her eye on the play area, when she caught sight of Robert Mackey with Austin in tow, heading right toward her. Directing his little child to the play area, he sat down less than fifteen feet from her bench. Patrice sat stunned for a brief moment at this stroke of luck, and then turned her attention to the children playing.
There he was, cute as could be, jumping right into the sea of little people—laughing and screaming, climbing and falling. Patrice sat mesmerized, watching the handsome little boy dressed in summer overalls and a blue short-sleeved shirt. She studied the confident, agile child from afar as though she had to capture these moments in her mind to remember until the next time she had an opportunity. In her concentration, she didn’t notice the mother approaching until she saw Robert Mackey glance up at his wife.
“How’re you guys doing?”
“Ah, great. Sit down for a moment, Hon. Austin won’t want to leave, you know.”
“Well, we don’t have to go yet, do we? I haven’t had a chance to watch him.” Mrs. Mackey sat down, and her husband put his arm around her.
Patrice took a deep breath and caught herself grimacing. She picked up her purse and walked out to the parking garage. Perhaps she had overloaded herself today with images that threatened to force her to look back. She remembered her friend Danielle’s words, “Keep looking to the future and you’ll be fine.” The words had a hollow ring right now, but Patrice perked up at the thought of calling Danielle just to chat.
……….
Gene Chemosh found himself humming the Stumblingblock song he’d heard in that church so many weeks ago. His life was most definitely on the upswing. He was glad to have his new job. It meant longer hours and less pay but was far more gratifying in every other way.
Suddenly, he stopped humming and gave full attention to the amazement he felt that here he was, never a man to read for pleasure, almost a third through the Bible, voraciously reading whenever he could find a few moments. It wasn’t easy finding time. Not only was there a lot of studying mandatory for this new job, but he found himself these days making great effort to ensure Sally was happy. This huge turn he was making in his life had happened quite suddenly, and he knew that her following along was out of constraint that came from her love for him.
He was thankful for their strong marriage and that Sal had been so compliant with his ardent wish that they name John to help materialize and cherish his memory as a member of their family.
The first few times Chemosh had been in charge of a delivery after he began working with the Briarwood Obstetrics group, he’d had to restrain his emotion. His heart yearned for his own son who had died so tiny and vulnerable—so utterly rejected. Gene’s pain was almost physical. The hurt was so great, in fact, that he had asked the Rule Maker about it one late afternoon on the way home from the hospital.
Don’t worry about John. He’s never ever been without my love, you know. He’s just never been personally loved by any human being. Now three people—his own family—love him.
Chemosh had felt a huge smile of compassion and love right there in his car.
He’s so happy that you’ll be joining us for eternity together. There was a deliberate hesitation in that voice Chemosh felt rather than heard, before it continued. You call me the Rule Maker…and I am. Your son John calls me the Way Maker… and I Am.
……….
Joe Denspot sat at his desk, ready for a conference call between Gene Chemosh, Marc Garman and himself. His secretary stepped into the doorway of his office.
“Line three, Joe.”
Joe picked up the phone. “Hi, Marc. Hey, Gene. We all here?”
“I am,” Gene said. “Hello, Marc.”
“Gene, Joe,” Marc greeted the other two men.
“Marc, you had something you wanted to talk to Gene about, so go ahead.”
“Yes. Gene, I need to apologize for walking out on you that day at Covella’s. I was caught up in bad memories, and it wasn’t until later—much later—that your words finally sank in. I would have called you, but I didn’t have your number, and Joe couldn’t ethically give it to me, so here we all are, I guess. You said you’d quit your job, and you wished you’d never started it. I wanted to ask you about that.”
He paused, and Gene responded, “Ask away.”
“Switching careers is a pretty major change in your life.”
“It’s Joe’s fault I quit.” There was a jovial tease in Gene’s voice. “But I have to admit it started with a nightmare—as I told you the first time we met.”
“Yeah?”
“I am a different man. I just wish I could rewind the past and undo the damage I’ve done. A lot of people…”
“Gene,” Joe interrupted, “I don’t think Marc’s so concerned with your past regrets as much as your present peace. He knows you’re sorry. But he’s curious as to how the transition was made.”
“Well, basically through your unconventional treatment plan, Doc.”
“And what is that?” Marc asked.
Joe explained, “Some of it I’ve shared with you already, Marc, that second time you came into the office. But I actually gave Gene ten rules to start following.”
“The Ten Commandments,” Marc interjected. “He told me.”
“That’s basically how the change in my viewpoint came about, Marc,” Gene said.
“Hmm.” There was a brief silence.
It was Joe who spoke up next. “Marc, I don’t think you feel your question’s been answered satisfactorily, and I have an idea to throw out. Maybe the three of us could get together and just talk. It might shed more light on the things we have in common and…”
Gene interrupted. “Let’s do it!”
On the following Saturday at 1:00 p.m., Joe Denspot, Gene Chemosh, and Marc Garman met at Covella’s. Marc led them to the furthermost booth in which he had sat those many months ago when he had first overheard the conversation between the two men now with him.
“Well, Joe, the pot roast is good here. Marc and I both like it.” Gene winked amiably at Marc.
“For sure,” Marc agreed, grinning.
Joe perused the menu briefly and then looked up, with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll take the baked chicken just in case it’s an off day for pot roast.”
“Suit yourself, Doc.” Gene sat down on one side of the booth and motioned for Marc to sit beside him.
The men ordered. Joe, seated by himself on the other side of the table, launched right into the intended discussion. It was a lively one ranging from the naming of their aborted children and the reactions of the women in their lives to the same, to the current political climate on the subject of abortion versus the Biblical one revolving around child sacrifice. Gene even brought up the subject of protesters and how the “Rule Maker,” as he liked to refer to God, had told him to lift his hand, as a final gesture, acknowledging them as he had driven away from Rock Pier Metro Women’s Clinic for the last time.
When Joe reiterated his observation that most church members defer to current social mores, Marc thought of Carla and Nancy and their friends out at the abortion clinic. He wondered again at the peculiar friendship between Carla and Nancy and Rita and Patrice. He smiled to himself, suddenly struck by the fact that the little group he was part of right now was every bit as peculiar.
The subject turned to the Bible as Joe began to share about the “high places” and “groves” referred to so often in the Old Testament. The time they’d allotted for this meeting was up, but both Gene and Marc wanted him to continue.
Joe declined. “I can’t today; I need to stick to our time frame.”
“You’re a natural teacher, Joe, and I’d really like to hear more; it’s fascinating,” Marc said, as he stood.
“I agree,” Chemosh added. “I had no idea how packed that book is.” He tapped the Bible Joe had brought.
Joe smiled. “How about if you both read the Kings books in the Bible and we meet again two weeks from now?”
Marc and Joe looked at each other and nodded.
Thus it was that a Saturday men’s study got its start, and thus it was that Marc Garman began reading—studying—the Bible.