Day 30
HONEY!” STEWART LONG STRODE through the front door grinning from ear to ear. “Peter!”
It had taken a week, but he had done what they all knew had to be done. The last seven days had drifted by in a surreal haze for all three of them. It was a kind of “the train’s at the station now but may be leaving at any minute” feeling that hung over them at the dinner table each night. That’s what more than a few talk-show hosts were saying anyway. They were debating over this “noble savage” theory of Caleb and saying that once culture got ahold of him it might be all over. So then the Longs had to get tickets fast.
But getting tickets proved far more difficult a chore than deciding to get them. Not because they’d jacked the price to a thousand bucks a head, but because Nikolous the Greek had trimmed the audience down to three thousand. From what Stewart could dig up, two thousand of those weren’t even traded on market but sold to a class of people beyond his reach. That left a thousand and at least half of those were snatched up by scalpers, who then resold them for an ungodly sum within hours. It wasn’t the money—Stewart would have paid any price now. But simply put, tickets were as scarce as fossils from Mars.
This morning his luck had changed. He’d pulled a Jack Burns over for speeding and discovered a warrant out for twenty unpaid speeding violations. That was when Jack flashed five tickets for the show downtown at Stewart. He had caught himself a scalper.
He even paid Jack for three of the tickets, two grand apiece. That was six grand he gave Jack—a lawbreaker whom he should be hauling down to the station rather than making rich. Instead Stewart wrote him a check, told him to slow down, and then broke every posted speed limit on his way home to display the spoils.
But then he was a cop; he could do that. And Jack would get his due soon enough.
“Peter!”
His son spun out of the kitchen, leading Barbara.
“What is it?” his wife demanded.
Stewart waved the large green tickets. “Guess what these are?”
“Tickets?” Peter asked, leaning so far forward Stewart thought he might tumble out of his chair.
He paused for effect. “Tuesday night. The Old Theater. Three—”
“You’re kidding!” His wife flew at him and snatched the tickets from his hand before he had a chance to finish. She studied them, mouth open.
“We . . . we’re going?” Peter asked. He’d turned white.
“What do you think of that?” Stewart asked, grinning wide.
Peter looked from his dad to his mom, and then back to his dad. “What does it matter what one thinks as longs as . . .” He let the quote trail off and sat in silence for a moment. Then he whirled around and wheeled for the kitchen.
“I think that’s good,” he said. “I trust Caleb.”
Something was wrong with Caleb. One glance and Leiah knew that something was terribly wrong.
He slouched on the couch, pale as dough, with his hands on his gut. He’d been looking a bit peaked these last few days, but she’d assumed it was nothing more than the lack of sunlight. The poor child had hardly seen a ray of natural light in a month. He’d complained of his stomach, but never adamantly. The food was new; it was to be expected.
But looking at the dark circles under his eyes now, she knew that he was a sick boy.
Jason picked her up at noon, boiling with questions and eager to ask Caleb about something that had kept him up half the night. He’d changed somehow, and his demeanor had made Leiah laugh. But Caleb had changed too, and that had wiped the smile from her face.
They’d tried to coax him into talk, but the boy was disconnected this morning. Honestly it looked like he’d taken a whipping back in that room of his, and Leiah wondered if Martha had taken it to him. Jason had given it about ten minutes and then ran out to fetch Nikolous. Martha was out tending to her duties. Leiah sat alone with Caleb who stared blankly at the far wall.
“Caleb, honey.” She brushed his bangs from his forehead. His head felt hot. “You’re scaring me.”
He just sat there like a lump of clay.
“We’ll get you to a doctor, okay? I don’t know what this is, but we’ll get you to a doctor right away, okay?”
Caleb closed his eyes.
The door suddenly banged open and Nikolous strode in, followed by Jason. The Greek stormed up to the couch, snorting like a bull.
“What do you mean he’s sick? He can’t be sick!”
Leiah took Caleb’s hand. It felt clammy. She looked up at Nikolous. “We need to get him to a doctor right away. He has a fever and whether you like it or not, he is sick.”
Nikolous scowled at the boy. He stepped up, pulled the flesh below Caleb’s eyes down, looked into each eye, and stood up.
“He’s not sick. He’s tired, and what do you expect after your keeping him out so late yesterday!”
Jason spoke quietly. “He’s sick, and it has nothing to do with taking him to church for a few hours yesterday morning. We have to get him to the doctor.”
“He can’t go to the doctor, you idiots!”
“Why not?” Leiah asked.
“How would that look? He’s a faith healer, for heaven’s sake!”
“I don’t care how it looks,” Jason said, more sternly now. “He looks like death warmed over.”
“And he has a meeting tomorrow night. Three thousand people have paid a thousand dollars each to come, and they did not pay to see a boy in a hospital!”
Leiah stood, suddenly furious. “There’s no way he can go out onstage in this condition. He’s sick, you big oaf!”
“He doesn’t look sick to me, and as it stands I’m his caretaker, not you. If you think he’s sick, then tell him to heal himself. If he can fuse spines, he can certainly bring a little color to his own face.”
“Please, Nikolous,” Jason said in an even tone. “He’s really not looking his best. Could you at least bring a doctor here to have a look at him?”
The Greek lifted a hand to stop them. “You don’t think I see through your silly plot to have him removed from me. You’re pretending he’s sick to destroy his reputation. Do you take me for a fool?” He turned for the side door.
“Martha!”
The door opened and Martha clacked in.
“Take the boy to his room and see that he’s ready for tomorrow evening’s meeting. Give him some water.”
The Greek faced them and pointed to the door. “Now please leave us. You are not helping the boy.”
“Our hour isn’t up! You can’t just throw us out,” Leiah said.
“I am doing just that. Now leave.”
“But you can’t!”
Jason stepped over to the boy and kissed him on the head. “We’ll be here tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t worry; we’ll take care of you.”
He stood and faced the Greek. “You’d better hope you’re right about this, Nikolous. If anything happens to him . . .” He ground his molars and let the statement stand.
“Come on, Leiah.”
She leaned over and kissed Caleb on the cheek. “I love you, Caleb,” she whispered. “Don’t let them hurt you.”
He looked into her eyes for the first time that day and he grinned barely. “I won’t,” he said.
She nodded and smiled back. There was some hope.
Leiah faced Martha. “At least give him some aspirin and some Pepto-Bismol. His stomach’s bothered him for three days now; you’d think a caring person would notice.”
Martha blinked and Leiah thought her look odd. It was surprise that crossed her face, not the anger Leiah would have expected. But the nursemaid ended it in predictable fashion, with a humph.
They left Caleb sitting under the towering figure of the Greek, who watched them out the door.
Neither Jason nor Leiah managed to bring any understanding to Caleb’s illness on the drive back to Pasadena. It simply made no sense. Nikolous was right. The boy had the power to heal a thousand people in one fell swoop. How could he be sick?
Unless he wasn’t really sick. Or unless he couldn’t heal his own body, or ask God to heal his own body or however that worked.
Or unless he was losing his power altogether.
But how could that be possible? They’d both felt the power of God run rampant through the church just yesterday. They’d seen it with their own eyes. They had both met God, and they’d come away changed, knowing that Caleb’s source of power was indeed Christ. This they agreed to as they left the freeway and headed for Jason’s house.
So then how could Caleb be either sick or losing his power only a day later? It made no sense. Unless he wasn’t sick.
Jason drove straight to his house and parked the Bronco without dropping her off. She wondered if he’d intended that.
He suddenly turned to her. “Whoops. Sorry. We’re at my house.”
Obviously. She smiled. “I was wondering.”
“Do you want a Coke?”
“Sure.”
He may not have meant to bring her here, but he’d asked her in quickly enough. And she’d answered as quickly.
They’d spent a lot of time together over the last month, but almost all of it either in the car or in the coffee shop. The last time they’d been alone in his house he had put a hand on her foot.
And it had terrified her.
He led her into the kitchen, tossed his keys on the table, and opened the refrigerator.
“Let’s see, we’ve got Coke; we’ve got root beer; we’ve got water.”
“Water’s fine,” she said.
He poured the drinks and lifted his own glass of cola. “To Caleb,” he said.
She touched his glass in a toast. “To Caleb.”
She walked into the living room and sat on the couch. Jason walked past her and eased himself into the armchair. The armchair was a good ten feet away, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was just as well.
“So what was the question?” she asked.
“What question?”
“The question that kept you up all night. The one you were going to ask Caleb.”
“Yeah.” He looked absently at the carpet. And then back up at her.
“I still don’t understand this power of his, Leiah. I mean I understand that it must be from God . . .”
“That it is from God. You said you met him yesterday.”
“Yes, I know. And I did. I met God. But exactly who is God?”
She wasn’t sure where he was going with the question. “God’s God. The all-powerful Creator. I don’t know; look it up in the dictionary.”
“That’s not what I mean. I know God is God. In fact I don’t really doubt that Christ was God. I prayed to him yesterday, kneeling on the platform, and it seemed totally self-evident. Jesus was—is—God. But what I’m asking is, what’s God like?”
“I suppose you’d need to ask a preacher or read the Bible,” she said.
“I did. I read the Bible last night. The whole Gospel of John.” He jumped up, grabbed an old black Gideon Bible off the television, and flipped through the pages.
“Here, listen to this,” he said, settling back in his chair. “John fourteen. He, Jesus, says: ‘Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me.’ Okay, good enough, but then he continues. ‘Or at least believe on the evidence of the miracles themselves. I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these . . .’”
Jason slapped the book closed.
“So where’s all the miracles? Where are all the believers with faith doing what Christ did? Or for that matter doing even greater things? I don’t see them in the church. You think I should ask a preacher what God is like? How do I know he has a clue what he’s talking about? Especially if he’s not doing what Christ did.” He shrugged. “Just a question.”
He had a point. “You ask Caleb. He’s doing what Christ did.”
“Exactly.”
“Or you ask Dr. Paul Thompson. I can’t believe he doesn’t know what God’s like,” Leiah said.
He nodded.
“Or the people from the church yesterday. You can’t believe they don’t know God.”
“They think they know him. They know a part of him. But do they do what he did? Did the people that prayed for Stephen do what Christ would have done? Where was their power? They were nothing more than a bunch of rednecks jumping around, hooting and hollering.”
He had come back to his son.
“Hooting and hollering? Sounds kind of like what we did yesterday.”
“I know. I became a hooting and hollering redneck Christian yesterday, and it makes me cringe. I don’t have a clue what that means.”
“It means you will follow Christ.”
“And what does following Christ look like? That’s the point: most Christians I’ve seen do their thing in the church maybe, but they don’t follow the teachings of Christ. Do they?” He shook the Bible. “They don’t do what he did.”
She thought about that. He was right, but his line of reasoning bothered her. She’d spent the day yesterday releasing all the voices that questioned God, and he was bringing them back.
“So not all people who call themselves Christians follow the teachings of Christ. So every movement has its pretenders. I’ll give you that. Are you saying that just because a person doesn’t walk around healing everyone they touch like Caleb does, they aren’t a true believer?”
“Of course not. Dr. Thompson doesn’t walk around like Caleb, and I have no doubt he follows Christ. But how many Christians have you met that show any power at all? I mean any?”
“Depends what you mean by power. Dr. Thompson seemed to suggest that what we see with our eyes isn’t the half of it. Whoever said that a straightened hand—”
“—is any greater than a healed heart,” he finished for her. “I know.”
“And yesterday we saw some of that, didn’t we?”
“Yesterday was just a bit unique.” He cocked his head, challenging.
“I’ve seen other good people who call themselves Christians.”
“Some. In a nation supposedly half filled with them. And how many of those showed any power at all that couldn’t be explained by a third grader?”
She didn’t have an answer for that.
“All I’m saying is that it casts questions on the whole crowd. God is real, and I’ve met him. He’s Christ. But who is he? And where are all his followers? Besides Caleb and Dr. Thompson and a few dozen others?”
“It all comes back to your son, doesn’t it?”
He sat back and sighed. “Maybe.”
His face looked haggard in that moment, as if a load still hung around his neck. He diverted his eyes and took another sip of cola. It occurred to her that she had become quite used to his company over this past month. She almost enjoyed a good argument from him. He was as sharp as she, and they complemented each other well. And in these last two weeks his bright blue eyes had been speaking a language that was totally unfamiliar to her.
Well, not totally. She’d nearly married once, before the accident. But it had been long enough ago that she hardly remembered. And the thought of being intimate with anyone now brought a shiver to her spine.
If there ever were a person, though, it would be someone like Jason.
“I’m surprised you don’t feel the same way,” he said.
At first she didn’t know what that meant. And then she did. He’s talking about your burns, Leiah. She stiffened.
“Not just you, of course, but anyone who’s felt pain or suffering.” He had seen her stiffen and was digging himself out. Leiah picked up her glass and crossed her legs. Heat washed down her back, and she wasn’t sure why. What he said wasn’t wrong.
“I mean especially people like you and me who’ve faced pain.” He followed her lead by picking up his glass.
Leiah felt herself slide into a place she hated being. A cocoon that made no sense. A place of anger and fear and strange comfort.
“Don’t you agree?”
She wanted to turn to him and answer, but her mind was suddenly swimming in its own brew of self-pity. Because he was telling her that she was no different than Stephen, wasn’t he? She, too, had been passed over.
“Leiah, please. I didn’t mean anything offensive.”
“I didn’t say I was offended.”
“No, but you are. Either offended or scared or both.”
“I wasn’t aware you knew me so well.”
“I don’t. You won’t let me get that close, remember?”
Oh, Jason. Dear Jason, what are you saying? “Please let’s not take this any further,” she said.
He unfolded his legs and leaned forward. “Why not? I feel different, you know. Ever since yesterday. Pretending isn’t sitting so well anymore. I feel like saying what’s really on my mind.”
Leiah wanted to leave then. She’d never seen him so open and it did scare her. Not that it should scare her—it should have her laughing. But it didn’t.
“You know what’s really on my mind?” he asked. “Well, let’s start with the fact that I don’t know how in the world this happened, but I think that maybe, just maybe, I’ve fallen in love with you. And I’m tired of pretending that I haven’t. Because now that I’ve said it, I know it’s a fact. I’m in love with you. And it scares me to death.”
A chill snaked down Leiah’s back. For years she had secretly hoped for just this. For a strong, independent man to love her for who she was, burns and all. She’d dreamed his face a thousand times, smiling tenderly and saying those words: I love you, Leiah.
And in the last three weeks that face had blue eyes and blond hair and spoke like Jason. Not in a hundred years had she dared to dream her independent man would be so handsome and so kind.
Yet now, hearing him say it, she wanted to shrivel up and vanish. But she wasn’t the kind to cower; she was the kind to snap. It came without warning.
“How dare you play with me?” she snapped.
“Playing? I’m not—”
“Do you have any idea how cruel you can be?” She was beyond reason now, and by his wide eyes he knew it as well. “You don’t just take salt and dump it into a wounded heart for the sport of it!”
“I . . . this isn’t just sport.”
“And you don’t toss a woman’s heart around as if it were a ball!” She was fairly spitting the words. “How dare you?”
Jason stood and threw both hands up like a policeman. “Stop it! Just stop it. I love you! Do you hear me? I love you, Leiah!”
He was breathing hard. They were both breathing hard. And Leiah had no idea how they’d gotten here, only that they were indeed, right here, in the most uncomfortable place imaginable. Her skin was crawling, and the thought that it was burned and wrinkled strung through her mind.
A tear slipped from one of his eyes. He was crying.
She closed her eyes and tried to grab for reason. What on earth are you doing, Leiah? He’s pouring his heart out for you, and you’re screaming at him! You’re a fool!
A hand touched her arm and she started. He was sitting beside her now.
“Listen to me, Leiah. I know this is new territory. For both of us. But I’m crazy about you.” His eyes searched hers, and she stared at the black television screen. His hand was on her arm.
“I’m in love with you! Not your arms or your legs or your body. You.”
He couldn’t have meant it the way it sounded. He could never be so dense. But it was the fact of the matter, wasn’t it? He could never love her for her body. Who could possibly love such a twisted mess of flesh?
Leiah lowered her head and began to cry. All the grief and self-pity she’d stored for so long oozed to the surface and she couldn’t contain it. She let her arms go limp in her lap and she started to sob.
“Leiah?”
The poor man had no idea. He might think that he loved her now, but one touch of her flesh and he would be swallowing. One accidental peek at her rippled belly and he would be running for the door.
The sorrow racked her body, and it felt good. In a way it was her only friend. This and God now.
But even God had passed her over.
“Leiah, please.” He was crying as he said it.
She had been in meeting after meeting where thousands around her were made whole. But she? No, not Leiah. Leiah is strong enough. She doesn’t need normal flesh. She doesn’t need soft, tender skin to make a man melt in her hands, because she will never have a man in her hands. Ha! Leave her with the bark for her skin. God was mocking her. Even Caleb, in his power to heal or not to heal, was mocking her. She was the brunt of their cruel joke. Her skin was.
Leiah suddenly stood, furious. She took three steps and whirled back to him. “You have no idea what it’s like to live in my skin! Let me tell you. It’s hell! It’s hell every minute, every day! I wake up feeling like a monster, and it takes every bit of strength I have to walk out the door to face the world.”
She reached up and ripped off her scarf. She popped the top two buttons of her shirt and exposed her collarbone. She did it in fury, without thinking. And the moment she realized what she’d just done, she felt the deep pain of humiliation ripple through her body.
“Nobody can love this.” Her voice was failing her, and her face wrinkled with anguish. “Nobody!”
Jason stood slowly. She was suddenly sobbing, staring at him, and he stepped forward. Tears streaked his face, but it wasn’t sorrow that flooded his face. It was empathy. And love. Tender love.
Which was not humanly possible.
He walked slowly up to her. He stopped within arm’s reach and shifted his eyes to her chest. To Leiah it felt like someone had opened her skull and poured boiling water over her mind. His eyes were as scalding, fixed on the flaps of skin that covered her breastbone. She swallowed. He just looked at her, and she just let him, powerless to move.
Oh, dear Jason, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You didn’t ask for this. I don’t mean to hurt you. You can do what you want and I won’t be angry. I won’t blame you.
Jason lifted his eyes, and they had stopped their watering. He looked at her simply, neither with empathy nor with sorrow now.
“I love you,” he said. “And I love you the way you are. I think you’re beautiful the way you are.”
Leiah could barely breathe. How could he stand there and say such a thing? She closed her eyes. I love you too, Jason. I love you so much.
“I’m scared,” she whispered. She dared not open her eyes. “I’m so—”
Warm lips covered hers and she gasped.
She froze, desperate and terrified at once. His lips pressed hers lightly, and they did not release her.
His right hand touched her side lightly, and he pulled her to himself. His other hand encircled her back and held her gently.
It wasn’t until that moment, when his fingers felt through her thin blouse to the scarred flesh beneath that she began to believe him. And then she abandoned herself to that belief in a sort of mad desperation.
She groaned and kissed him back, surprising herself. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him tight against her body. He kissed her with an equal passion.
It was like being dehydrated bone dry and then diving into a pool of crystal-clear water. She drank deeply, and for a moment she thought she would spend the rest of her life here, in this embrace.
But then she remembered where she was, and she pulled back, breathing heavily.
They stood staring at each other, dumbstruck.
A grin cracked his lips. “Wow.”
Slowly a smile settled on her own lips, and she felt heat wash over her face. She put her hands together and fiddled with her fingers, unsure what she should do.
“Wow,” he said again.
Wow. He’d kissed her and said Wow.
“Wow,” she said.
Jason laughed like a child and reached for her hand. “Come here.” He pulled her to him and put both arms around her. She rested her cheek on his chest.
Leiah wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened, but she did know a few things.
She knew that she was in the arms of a man.
She knew the man was Jason, a man too good for even her dreams.
She knew her face couldn’t seem to relax the dumb smile that curved her lips.
And she knew that her heart was beating like a tom-tom.
It was enough knowledge for the moment.