Bible time was Luke’s favorite part of the day. After dinner, when the dishes were cleaned and everyone was washed up, they’d gather in the warmth of the kitchen. Deborah would light the lamp against the growing darkness, then go to the trunk and get out the big black leather-bound book.
Once settled in her chair, her full skirts arranged just so, she’d open the book, flipping the thick yellow-white pages until she found her place, then she’d begin to read. With her fine, strong voice, Deborah had made the stories come alive.
Sometimes she would read of people and places Luke had never heard of, like the Israelites and the Promised Land. Sometimes she would read poetry that made his heart ache, but always she read of a mighty, all-powerful God who loved and protected His people.
For the fleeting minutes of Bible time, the great yawning hole within Luke—the grinding hunger of his spirit—would quiet. Bible time gave him a taste of real peace. He figured that peace would be the thing he missed the most when he left.
Tonight would be his last time to share in Bible time. Deborah had announced over dinner that Luke was to be gone in the morning. Little Case had cried and pleaded till Luke figured there couldn’t be a drop of water left in the boy, but to no avail. Deborah would not be moved.
Luke had to go.
Luke tried to explain what they’d been doing with the knife, tried to tell her a boy needed to learn how to handle a knife to lead a normal life, but she wasn’t having any part of his explanation.
Deborah equated knives with guns and guns with violence and she would tolerate no violence. Seemed she lost her brothers to the violence of war and she was still grieving for them. She figured if guns and knives were prohibited, there’d be no more war. No more senseless killing.
So Luke, with his gun and knife, would be gone in the morning.
He wouldn’t go far. He owed it to Cyrus to look after his kin, and he vowed to do it, even if it meant living up in the hilltop shack and riding patrol. Deborah would never be the wiser.
Luke put the last of the dishes in the tub of soapy water. “Your turn to dry tonight, kid.”
Case limped over, more slowly than usual, to stand beside Luke. “I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone, Luke.”
Luke dried his hand on his pants then mussed the boy’s hair. “I’m sure you are. Who’ll help you wash the dishes?”
The attempt at levity fell flat. Case lifted a mournful face to Luke’s and shook his head. “Oh no. It’s not just the dishes,” he said earnestly. “It’s you I’ll miss. You’re my best friend. I l-like you.”
Luke crouched low to meet Case at eye level. “I like you, too.”
Something wakened Deborah early in the morning. She lay still in the pitch-black room, waiting to hear a repeat of whatever it was that woke her. Nothing. The house was silent.
She relaxed into her pillow, now too wide awake to drop off to sleep. Fact was, she’d slept only fitfully all night.
The whole evening, actually, the whole day had been a disaster, she reflected. One minute she was standing on the back porch, counting Luke as one of her blessings, next minute she was flat on her back, convinced he was a demon from the pit. Now, when she was feeling more rational, she admitted that Luke probably fell somewhere in between the two extremes.
After she’d had some time to cool off, to regroup her scattered thoughts after her scare, she could see that perhaps she’d overreacted. She had observed Luke enough to know he would never do anything to hurt her brother.
Sure, handing a knife with an eight-inch blade to a seven-year-old was sheer idiocy, but from what Case told her when she’d calmed down enough to listen, Luke had exercised extreme caution throughout the entire “lesson.” Furthermore, the intent of learning about knives, according to Case, was not to use it as a weapon, but rather as a tool with which to whittle. He’d wanted to whittle Deborah a present.
Deborah frowned up at the darkened ceiling as her conscience bombarded her with guilt. She felt guilty for making Case cry. She felt guilty for overreacting. She felt guilty for sending Luke away.
She even felt guilty for depriving Luke of their company. Though she’d always considered him a loner, she sensed he relished their companionship. It was especially evident during family Bible time. She doubted he’d ever admit it, but she could clearly see the pleasure in his face as she opened the Scriptures and began to read.
Her mother had often said Deborah possessed a very soothing voice, pleasant to listen to, but there was more to what she witnessed on Luke’s face than a reaction to her oratory skills. He was enthralled with the stories. He hung on every word. Unlike herself or Case who had heard the Old Testament stories time and again, it was obvious they were completely new to Luke.
Lately, she’d begun to read a bit farther each night, though her brother began to fidget, just because she knew Luke enjoyed it. The truth was, his appreciation of the Bible stories enhanced her appreciation of them. It was as if she was seeing them with new eyes.
But not anymore. She’d sent him away.
She rolled onto her side, facing the door. Still, she tried to reassure herself, she’d done the right thing. Luke was a menace. He had no concept of the protection a young boy needed. They would be better off without him.
She flopped onto her back and sighed. Her mind might think getting rid of Luke was a good idea, but her heart didn’t agree.
Case had been so crushed over her pronouncement, she wondered if he’d ever forgive her. It nearly broke her heart to hear him quietly sobbing until he fell asleep.
At least now he was finally resting peacefully. She rolled over to check on him. He wasn’t there. She felt the sheets where he’d been lying. They were cool to the touch.
Deborah sat bolt upright in the bed, her mind racing in a dozen different directions. In the whirlwind of frightening thoughts, one thing was clear. Her brother was gone.
Fueled by blinding fear, she sprang off the mattress and raced into the hall. “Case?” she called. “Case?”
Nothing. The house was silent. She was alone.
As she hurried down the pitch-black hall, she noticed a thin, silvery shaft of light filtering in from the back. The door was ajar, and light from the full moon seeped in through the crack.
Her heart was pounding so hard, she could hardly think. Case must be outside. Had he run away?
She pulled the door open without making a sound and stepped onto the back porch. Moonlight cast eerie shadows across the yard. The place looked threatening, hostile. And Case was out there.
Deborah paused to pray. “O God,” she whispered. “Help me find him. Please keep him safe.”
She heard a slight sound, a voice coming from the lean-to. Moving silently, she made her way to the door of the lean-to and peeked in.
Case, his nightgown-clad body illuminated by moonlight, stood at the foot of the pallet where Luke slept.
“Luke?” Case said in a loud whisper. “Luke, are you awake?”
Luke grumbled something, then sat up with a start. “Case? What are you doing in here?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I needed to talk to you.” A belated thought seemed to occur to him. “I didn’t wake you up, did I? I don’t want to bother you.”
Luke gave a deep, throaty chuckle. “Not much, kid. You know I always like to talk to you.”
Case pulled something from behind his back and thrust it toward Luke. “I brought you something. A going-away present.”
“That’s awful nice, Case, but I don’t need anything.”
Case took a step closer and pressed the parcel into Luke’s hands. “It’s my Bible. My very own Bible. It used to belong to my father, and when he died, Deborah gave it to me. I want you to have it.”
“Aww, Case—”
“A man ought to have his own Bible. Maybe when you read it, you’ll think of me.”
“Come here.” Luke directed Case toward his pallet and moved to the side to make a place for him. He patted the blanket. “Sit down.”
Case obediently limped across the dirt floor and sat.
Luke held up the Bible. “This is the nicest present I’ve ever received. But I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, your father meant for you to have it. One day you’ll read to your children from it. Second of all, it’d be a waste to give it to me. I can’t read.”
Deborah hoped Case’s sharp intake of breath masked her own. “I didn’t know that,” Case said. “You never let on you couldn’t read.”
Luke shrugged. “I didn’t want you to know. You always said you thought I could do everything.” Deborah watched the proud man drop his head to confess, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Case threw his arms around Luke and held him tight. “You could never disappoint me, Luke.” After a second or two, he pulled himself away to say, “I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier tonight.”
“Oh?”
Case nodded. “Remember when I told you I liked you?”
Luke nodded.
“It wasn’t exactly the truth. The truth is, I love you, Luke.”
This time Deborah watched Luke take the initiative. He spread his arms wide and when Case moved into them, Luke wrapped him tight. “I love you, too, Case,” he whispered against the child’s hair. “I love you, too.”