He sipped a mug of French vanilla roast as he flipped on the TV and turned it to the local news. He still couldn’t shake the strange dream from the night before or the way the shout had seemed so real.
Real enough that Helen had heard it, too.
A commercial break ended and a newscaster appeared on the screen. “In other news, vandals apparently tore down the walls around the controversial Jesus statue in Bethany, Pennsylvania’s Jericho Park last night … ”
Joshua was on his feet, his coffee forgotten. Dear God, did she say what I think she said? The picture changed and suddenly Joshua was staring at the statue, standing victorious amid a pile of scrap wood. It was true, the dream he’d had the night before … the walls really had fallen!
“Helen! Get in here, quick!” Joshua kept his eyes trained on the screen and in that moment he had the distinct feeling that the walls around the statue weren’t the only ones that had fallen the night before.
Father … thank You … I’m sorry for ever doubting …
The battle is Mine, Joshua … I will go before you as I always have. Your prayers have crossed My Jordan and now he and the land are both yours.
Joshua drew his eyebrows together as the strange thought drifted across his heart. Jordan and the land were his? It didn’t make sense, but then nothing had since he’d first heard about the case. The day he’d seen the golden man in his office. It didn’t matter. The Lord would make everything clear in the end.
“Helen!” He shouted again, his voice filled with celebration. The news segment was almost over and he didn’t want her to miss it. “Helen, get in here! You won’t believe it … It’s just like my dream … ”
28
Twenty-four hours before the hearing and with everything that mattered to him waiting back in Bethany, the last thing Jordan wanted to do was drive east to New York. But he knew with every fiber of his being he couldn’t move forward without first tying up the loose ends back home.
He walked into T. J. Morris’s office just before noon and shut the door.
His friend was working on a file. He whipped around, his features instantly frozen. “Jordan, what the—”
Jordan held up a hand. “Don’t talk. Just listen.”
T. J. started to stand, started to open his mouth, but Jordan pointed to his friend’s chair. “Sit. You owe me that much.”
A look of resignation flashed across T. J.’s face. Slowly, silently he sat back down.
Jordan took the chair opposite him, folded his hands, and rested his chin on the tips of his forefingers. “You look nervous, Teej. Why do I get the feeling everyone in my office is somehow doubting me these days?”
T. J. turned and looked out the window, studying the towering office buildings fighting for position in the city skyline. “This is all because of Faith Evans … ”
Anger began to boil in Jordan’s blood, but he was careful not to let it show. “Her again, huh?”
T. J. sighed and stood up, shuffling toward the window, and then turning to face Jordan again. “I can’t believe she’s still fighting this thing … I mean, Hawkins thought for sure she’d pull out after the network called.”
Jordan had the strange sensation he was dreaming. Almost immediately he could see in T. J.’s eyes that he knew he’d made a mistake by mentioning Faith at all. “How’d Hawkins know about the network call?” Jordan leaned back in his chair and stared unblinking at T. J. “And why do you know about it?”
T. J.’s expression went flat. He moved to his chair once more, sat down, and slumped back. “Hawkins knows all about Faith.” T. J.’s cheeks puffed out as he exhaled through pursed lips. “You can’t tell him I told you, but he’s … he’s worked hard to make her change her mind about fighting for the statue.”
Jordan clenched his teeth and again forced himself to appear unaffected. “What’s he done?”
T. J. crossed his arms and studied his feet. “He got her fired—at least he said he was going to—and he pulled some strings at the network … had someone call her and tell her they were interested in her for a national spot if she stayed out of the political limelight.” T. J. looked up. “Oh, and that kid she likes, the orphan. Hawkins had her picture yanked from the Web site the day our ad began to run. Just to send Faith a message … to warn her there’d be a price if she got too involved in the case.”
T. J.’s eyes clouded with shame, and Jordan felt sick to his stomach. He’d always known Hawkins was ruthless, but this … He thanked God for opening his eyes to all that had been going on around him.
T. J. leveled his gaze at him, and Jordan had the feeling this was maybe the last conversation he’d have with his old friend. In the past week friendship had taken on a deeper meaning for Jordan, one that left him little in common with someone like T. J. Morris. Jordan watched the man struggle for words to fill the awkward silence between them.
“I should have told you sooner … I don’t know … things have changed around here, Jordan. There’s a lot at stake.”
Jordan wanted to stick around and find out what T. J. meant, but he knew he needed to get back to Bethany. And he still had one more stop to make. He studied T. J. It made sense, he supposed, that his friend had been quiet about the attack against Faith. HOUR was made up of a determined group of attorneys bent on seeing justice done the only way they understood it. Even if it meant betraying one of their own.
Jordan stood, and T. J. did the same. For a moment neither of them spoke, and finally Jordan reached out and shook his hand. “I’ve got a case to finish.” He held T. J.’s eyes for a moment, praying that one day the man would understand the decision Jordan was about to make. “See ya, Teej.” With that, he turned then and walked out into the hallway.
Jordan expected T. J. to protest or stop him, but as he made his way from his friend’s office there was nothing but silence behind him. Two minutes later, Jordan stood in front of Hawkins’s secretary, an older lady who had been a prison warden in her younger days—and who still carried the same charm and demeanor. She scowled at him as he approached. “I thought you were supposed to be in Bethany.”
Jordan wanted to ignore her and head straight into Hawkins’s office, but that would ruin his plan. It was important he play his cards perfectly. He smiled at the woman. “The hearing’s not until tomorrow. I need a moment with Mr. Hawkins, if you don’t mind.”
Her frown eased some and she hesitated. Jordan thought she might decline his request, but then she stood and disappeared down a series of hallways. In less time than it took Jordan to rehearse his game plan, Hawkins came into the foyer, a smile pasted on his face. “Jordan … come on back.”
Jordan followed him into the plush, spacious office, the place where they’d celebrated numerous legal victories in the past. He felt a pang of regret. Those legal victories had put Jordan on the map of human-interest law—and taken him miles from the things that mattered most.
Jordan had sometimes felt intimidated by Hawkins, but this was not one of those times. He understood too clearly the path he needed to follow, the choices he must make in order to finally be true to himself and the God who had never stopped loving him.
Hawkins slammed his forearms onto his desk. The smile was gone. “You’re supposed to be in Bethany.”
Jordan chose his words carefully. “Sir, I had some things to take care of here.”
Hawkins waved his hand toward the door. “Well, take care of them and get back to Bethany. We have a case to win there, Riley. You worry me.” He searched Jordan’s eyes, as though looking for signs of weakness. “I don’t know if you understand how important this case is to HOUR.”
“Yes, sir,” Jordan smiled. “I think I do know.”
Suspicion darkened Hawkins’s face. “So what do you want? A vote of confidence? You already have that or you wouldn’t be there in the first place.” Hawkins’s voice was gruff. Clearly the man was unsettled over Jordan’s unexpected visit.
“I have a question, sir. I thought you’d be the one
to ask.”
Hawkins gestured as though a fly were buzzing near his face. “Go ahead.”
“About the bonus money … ” Jordan was guessing, going out on a limb, but it was something he needed to know. “I want to know if the person in public office has promised additional funds for future cases?”
Hawkins eyed him carefully. “Who told you?”
“Same way you heard, sir.” Jordan paused. “Found out the other day.”
The scowl on his face deepened. “Look, Riley, what happens behind the scenes at HOUR is none of your business. All you need to do is win the case. The partners will take care of you after that, and one day—” his smile was small, forced—“one day you might have an office on this floor.” He chuckled, but the sound made Jordan’s skin crawl. “You’ll make a fine partner, Riley.” The room was silent for a beat. “Now get back down there to Bethany and do the job.”
Jordan felt a chill pass over him. So he’d been right. Funds were coming from an elected state official. And if Hawkins had been willing to play Faith like a puppet, what else might he have done? What might he still do? Jordan resisted the urge to end the conversation then and there.
He and Faith were going to pray with Heidi and her husband at Heidi’s house that night. Jordan hadn’t told them yet what he planned to do, but he had told them about the change that had come over him. They knew, as did he, that whatever happened in court the next day, the former Jordan Riley was gone forever.
He glanced out the window, reminding himself to be patient. His heart was already halfway down the highway, but he had one thing to tell Hawkins first. After that … well, if HOUR chose to sue him for what he was about to do, so be it. “Sir, I want you to know that the Bethany case is very important to me. I … well, I have a personal interest in it. And you can be sure tomorrow, when you hear the outcome, it’ll be just the way I want it to go.” Jordan stood and shook Hawkins’s hand. “After tomorrow, I want everyone to know how I feel about that statue.”
Hawkins looked like a man warmed by a sudden burst of sunshine. “That’s my boy, Riley. You go get ’em.”
On Tuesday morning Joshua Nunn arrived at the courthouse an hour before the hearing. A crowd had already gathered on the lawn, and a quick glance showed they were in support of the statue. Joshua nodded at them, waving and pointing a single finger heavenward. “Pray!” he called as he headed into the building. In front of the double doors to the courtroom he found Frank Furlong and several city council members, concern etched on their faces. Frank motioned Joshua aside.
“I got a call this morning from the HOUR organization.” Frank wiped a layer of perspiration off his brow. “It isn’t good.”
Joshua set his briefcase down and crossed his arms. Since his dream about the walls he wasn’t even a bit concerned. Faith had told him there was something different about Jordan now. He’d had an awakening, she’d said. Joshua had no idea what Jordan was going to do that morning, but he believed without a doubt that God was in control.
Joshua smiled at the mayor. “Did the person from HOUR give you his name?”
“Peter Hawkins, one of the partners.” The others were far enough away not to hear the conversation. “Joshua, he offered me twenty thousand dollars to make a statement in court … to insist that permanent walls go up.” Frank raised his eyebrows. “I told him no, but he said he knew for a fact the city was going to lose. He’d seen to it personally.”
Joshua took hold of his friend’s shoulder. “It’s too late to panic. Believe me, the battle of Jericho Park is under control.” He patted the mayor on the back and led him toward the others. “In fact, it’s already won. No matter what it looks like.”
While they were talking a man approached them, someone Joshua had never seen before. In his hand was a stack of papers more than an inch thick. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Nunn.” He handed the papers to Joshua and smiled. “The townspeople have been working on this for a few weeks. We thought it might help.”
In that instant, Joshua knew that everything God had promised from the beginning was about to happen. He would present his case with strength and courage, and no matter what happened, no matter what was said, God Himself would go before him.
29
Jordan was still reveling from the feeling of praying the night before, but even now, fifteen minutes before the hearing, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to tell the judge. Charles had shown him the Scripture that said not to worry about words … God would provide what to say.
He had two assistants nestled in the row behind him, young attorneys clearly out of the inner loop of happenings back at the office. They were there to make copies or read through case precedents should he need help. Jordan could picture them getting star status as they replayed for Mr. Hawkins the events that were about to play out.
A chorus of whispers and movement filled the courtroom as reporters squeezed into the back and townspeople filled the spectator rows. Jordan made eye contact with Faith, and she nodded to him. He refrained from smiling or winking in response. She knows my heart, Lord. I can see it in her eyes.
As he took in the rest of the courtroom, Jordan realized he wasn’t nervous. In fact, he felt wrapped in a cocoon of peace that surpassed anything he’d ever known.
Judge Webster appeared at the bench and took his seat. Rapping his gavel twice he shot a frustrated look at several noisy groups. “Order! This court will come to order.” Immediately the reporters fell silent.
They don’t want to miss the townspeople’s tears, Jordan thought. Then he swallowed hard and focused on the judge.
“Very well.” Judge Webster looked from Jordan to Joshua and back again. “I have given you thirty days to determine what type of permanent fixture will best keep the people of Bethany, Pennsylvania, from feeling forced to view a statue of Jesus in the middle of—” he checked his notes—“Jericho Park.”
A holy presence seemed to settle around Jordan, and he knew instinctively that Faith was praying for him. Faith and Joshua and Heidi and Charles. Most of the people in Bethany for that matter.
The judge cleared his throat. “At our last meeting, counsel for the plaintiff recommended a ten-foot-high, permanent brick wall to resolve the matter.” He looked at Joshua. “But before I can order anything, I promised to give the defense and the—” he arched his eyebrows—“new owner of the statue a chance to speak before this court.”
Joshua Nunn, the city’s attorney was first. The older man looked ten years younger as he took the floor and moved slowly to a spot in front of the judge. “Your Honor, the people of Bethany believe their voice has not been heard in this matter. It is their park and they have enjoyed the statue in question for decades without incident.” He pulled out a thick stack of papers and handed it to Judge Webster. “I’d like to introduce these documents as Exhibit A.”
The judge wrinkled his nose as though he’d caught whiff of a bad odor. “What is it?”
Joshua smiled. “The signatures of more than five thousand citizens of Bethany and the surrounding towns. People who do not want walls around the Jesus statue.” He hesitated.
Across the room Jordan masked the way his heart soared within him.
I’m right there with them, Lord … thank You for letting me see …
“If I may read the opening paragraph, Your Honor?”
Judge Webster rested his forearms on the edge of the bench and sighed. “Very well, proceed.”
“Thank you.” Joshua held the paper out in front of him and studied it. Then he raised his voice so even the reporters in the back row could hear him. “We, the people of Bethany, Pennsylvania, believe it is important for our voices to be heard. The statue of Jesus Christ in Jericho Park neither offends us nor threatens our religious freedom, as some have contested. Rather it is our privilege as Americans not to be subjected to censorship.”
Joshua hesitated, and Jordan could sense a chill making its way down the spines of all in attendance. “Placing permanent walls around a
statue given as a gift and now belonging to a private citizen—just because it depicts the central figure of the Christian faith—is censorship and it is discriminatory. We are, for that reason, asking that common sense and true freedom prevail in your decision.” Joshua looked up at the judge. “The signatures begin at the bottom of the page.”
The only sound in the courtroom was that of Judge Webster turning the pages of the petition. Page after page after page … apparently until he was convinced the signatures were valid. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes still on the document. “Obviously I’m unable to count the names, but I’m willing to admit this as Exhibit A and stipulate that it appears to have the signatures of some five thousand people.” He looked at Joshua. “However, as I said when hearings first began in this case, I am not obligated to pay heed to this exhibit or the protests or the opinions of newscasters. It is my decision alone.” His eyes narrowed. “Anything else, counselor?”
The attorney folded his arms in front of him and cocked his head. “I had an argument prepared, Your Honor.” He shook his head once, as though even he couldn’t believe the strength in the voice of the people, a voice that Jordan knew would resonate in his heart forever. “But I believe in a government that is of the people … by the people … for the people. A government our forefathers would have recognized as constitutional.” He waited a beat and a smile filled his face. “They elected you, if I’m not mistaken.”
Jordan glanced at the judge and thought he looked less confident than before.
“As far as I’m concerned, Your Honor, the people have spoken. Anything I might say at this point would hardly be relevant.” He looked at Jordan and back at Judge Webster. “The defense rests.”
Jordan considered all that hung on the next few minutes. Members of the press held their collective breath, waiting to share the story with the nation. Hawkins no doubt was pacing by the telephone in his plush office, and somewhere a room full of advisors to a shady politician stood by anxiously awaiting the outcome as well.