Maddie shook her head. “Joe, death is what makes life special, sacred; it’s what makes life worth living. And Joe, we have to believe, have faith. You need to believe. Death is a beginning, not the end.”
Joe shook his head. “I wish I could be naïve, believe all that. But I can’t.”
“So I’m naïve, am I? Well I’d rather be naïve and live in hope. You need some faith Joe, faith in something bigger than the evil that’s all around us.”
“Maybe you’re right. No. I know you're right. But I can’t believe in God after all this. And how can you?” Joe’s question didn’t seem to reflect anger, but a longing to find hope. “If there was a God, a God who cared … well, why? Why would he let all this bullshit happen to us? Why wouldn’t he do something? Stop it?”
Maddie clasped her hands around Joe’s neck. She pressed her lips together. She wanted to shake him, scold him, hit some sense into him – she wanted him to believe, to find hope. She nodded her head resolutely and said, “I may not know the why’s … why things happen, why God lets evil try to ruin things. But I know this … My Redeemer lives and so shall we.”
Joe shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Like I say, I wish I could be so naïve. But Maddie, you’re wrong about me giving Steven something. He’s the one that gave me so much, gave me things I’d given up on. He taught me to care again. He taught me to forgive. He gave me more than I could ever give him. He … Steven’s…” Joe stopped.
Maddie looked into his bloodshot eyes. She leaned forward and pressed her ear against his chest. Joe spoke softly, but his voice resonated in her head and chest. He said, “What did you mean? About where your life would be if … if I wasn’t’ around?”
“We wouldn’t be here now. You wouldn’t be with me now. And I wouldn’t … I don’t know where I’d be.” Maddie sat up. Joe stroked her cheek, he leaned forward and slipped his lips onto hers. Her eyes closed. The feel of his flesh – warm, moist, loving caring. No. Powerless, used, shame, unclean; an object, a filthy dirty object. Maddie pushed Joe causing her to fall off his lap hard onto the floor.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t … I shouldn’t have … I’m an idiot.” Joe stuttered. He reached out with both hands and pulled her up.
Maddie felt her cheeks go flush. She shook her head. “No. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Please, don’t be sorry. I don’t know what happened. God, my butt hurts.” Maddie laughed, she knew it was a nervous, uncomfortable chuckle. Joe didn’t laugh, didn’t smile. She felt her whole face grow hot; inside her anger was beginning to swirl in her gut. It wasn’t’ okay. He should have never done that. Not the time or place. Thoughtless. It’s all guys want. It’s all they care about. She took a quick breath and tried to will those thoughts away .No. No. Idiot. It’s okay, a normal thing, why not? A kiss, so what. Just trying to comfort each other. No. Not ready. Not ready yet. No. I’ll never be ready. Maddie remained standing. She turned and stared out the window. That last thought took hold of her heart with a merciless and cruel grip. She put her palm on the cold window. “My parents. They should be here soon. Your parents too, they should be here in the morning. That’s great.”
Nearly inaudible, Joe replied, “Yeah. They’re gonna kill me when they get here.”
“Family. We need family now. Most of all we need family.” Maddie suddenly pointed out the window. “Oh my God. There they are. There’s a car coming.” Maddie turned around and reached out for Joe’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go. Go meet them.”
“No. You go. I’ll stay here. It’s family. Your family. Go on then.”
Maddie ran toward the door screaming out, “Marie! They’re here! They’re here!”
As Maddie put on her coat, Marie came out. “Wonderful. I’ll put the kettle on for some coffee.”
Maddie left Joe standing at the window, waiting and watching for the impending reunion with her family. Maddie jumped up and down as her parents parked the car and got out. He watched the three embrace. Thoughts bombarded him; I can’t understand her. Can’t read her. What does she want? I don’t get her. Everything’s on her terms. No, that’s not fair. I’m just a damn fool. Should have never done that. Joe turned and walked toward the kitchen. “Marie? Anything I can do?”
Marie shook her head, then pointed at him. “Joe? How are you? Really?”
He shrugged, then shook his head. “Not good.”
Marie nodded and pressed her lips together. Her head tilted ever so slightly – it was the kind of expression you see at funerals, an expression meant to express concern and understanding … and pity – so sorry for your loss, so so sorry. She said, “And what does ‘not good’ mean? Define ‘not good.’”
Having no hope. Scared the nightmare will never end. So much guilt and grief that death seems the logical option. Joe drew a breath, sighed and said, “I don’t know. Feels like it will never end.” Joe paused, shifted his feet. “You know, those movies, where all the bad stuff happens, lots of people die, and then … then they get the bad guy, kill him off in some climatic and wild scene? And it’s like all of sudden everything’s going to be perfect again. They all go back home and everything’s back the way it was. The bad guy’s dead. It’s all over. Happy ending. Happy freakin’ ending. But it’s not like that, is it?”
“It’s going to take time, Joe. Trauma like you’ve been through doesn’t just fade away. It’s hard to see that right now, but it will get better. And it will take time. You’ll need help, support. Don’t try to do this on your own. But now Joe, honestly, do you feel like you might hurt yourself?”
“No. Of course not.” She knows. Maddie would have told her – the friend she met in the hospital, the one that nearly offed himself, sliced his arm all up, took a thousand pills. She shouldn’t have told. “I’m okay. Don’t worry.” He had to say that. Had to convince himself. I’m okay – aren’t I? Parents will come tomorrow, they’ll be mad, but they’ll be worried. Yeah, more worried than mad. They’ll understand. I had to do what I did, what we did. But Steven’s dead now. Chuck’s dead. There’s no understanding anything anymore. And the kiss? Why’d I do that? Didn’t she want it? Expect it? No, of course not. So stupid. Someone’s dies, not the time to do that sort of thing. He looked Marie in the eyes, nodded and said, “I’m … I’ll be okay.” Are you safe? Are you safe? That’s what Braxton had asked him. Are you safe with all those emotions churning around inside you? I think so. I hope so.
“You will Joe, you’ll be okay. Don’t give up. I found that it’s faith, hope and love that carry us through. Faith, hope and love.” Marie put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed it. “Don’t let go of those three things. Never let go.”
Joe nodded and tried to smile. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Faith, hope, love, gets us through? More blind gullibility. Faith, hope, and love. Joe had heard that somewhere, or read it somewhere, he couldn’t remember. That’s what it takes to get us through, to survive? Faith, hope love .But where is it? Lost long, long ago. Lost forever. Oh, to be that naïve, to believe in the unseen. Faith, hope, love … Oh. Yeah, I remember what it says, ‘the greatest of these is love’. Well, one thing I do believe in is family. Family is what matters. Family needs me, and God, I need family.
***
Large puffy snowflakes landed gently on Maddie’s shoulders and cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her ski jacket and hopped up and down as the her parents’ rented Lexus pulled into its parking place in front of the main lodge of the Rising Sun Ranch. Judith leaped out of the door and threw her arms around her daughter. Howard soon joined the tearful reunion of a family being reborn. Maddie felt peace embracing her; peace that would protect her, nurture her, would forgive her – peace that would enable her to live again.
Judith pulled back and held her only child at arm’s length and looked her up and down. “Are you okay? Are you okay? What a terrible thing you had to endure.” Her mother bursts into tears.
Maddie wiped away her mom’s tears with her hand and said, “I’m fine. I’m
safe now. I’m sorry for putting you all through this. I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. Everything is going to be okay now. Everything. Let’s go get warm. There’s a guest room in my counselor’s cabin. We’re staying there tonight. Then I want to go home. I’m going home.”
The three embraced again and Howard whispered in Maddie’s ear, “We can’t get you home soon enough. Maddie, I have so missed you.”
***
From the small archway leading from the kitchen, Joe watched Maddie and her parents come through the door. Marie hurried over and gave hugs, then took their coats and pointed them to the leather sofa in front of the wood burning stove. Joe’s stomach tightened; a wave of shame and guilt welled up in his belly. He wanted to just disappear, melt away into nothingness. He stepped back, hoping to slip out of sight. Maddie called out. “Joe, come on.” He shook his head and took another step back. They would hate him. They would curse him. Chew him up and spit him out. His ex-stepfather had traumatized their daughter, had been a few seconds away from killing her. So what if he was a crazy man? Joe had created the monster, had given birth to the rage and insanity that for no good reason engulfed their daughter, just because he called her a friend. “Get in here.” Maddie skipped over and grabbed Joe’s hand and pulled him into the living area. “This is Joe. He and his … and our friend, they saved my life.”
Judith stood up. “I remember you and your friend. New Year’s Eve. Crashing our party.”
“Sorry about that.” Joe mumbled. Judith laughed and hugged Joe.
Howard said, “It was a stupid thing you and your friend did. Stupid, and brave. Incredibly brave.” He reached out and shook Joe’s hand. “I’ll be eternally grateful for what you did. And I’ll see to it … that your friend … that he is taken care of.”
Joe nodded. “Thanks. He was more than a friend. He was like my brother.” Joe turned slightly and wiped his eyes, trying to chase away the moisture that was gathering and threatening to surface.
Judith embraced him again and said, “This is such a terrible, terrible thing. I just can’t imagine what you’ve been through. You can let those tears come.”
Joe rubbed his face again and said, “I know. But I’m okay.” He willed his tears away. Chin up. Yeah. Chin up.
Maddie took his hand and pulled him to the loveseat next to the sofa as Howard and Judith lowered themselves onto the sofa. Marie excused herself to the kitchen to prepare some late-night snacks. The four sat in silence for a few moments. Joe moved his hands up and down, left and right, not knowing where to let them rest; his left leg moved up and down. He wanted to get up and walk away. What can they talk about? Not this day, this nightmare. No way. He feared the inquiries would come, questions would bombard him – ‘Tell us what happened. What lead up to this? Why did this happen? Who was that man? Why did he do such a thing?’ Joe took a breath and said, “How was your trip? Was the snow a problem?”
“It was fine. No problems. Snow’s just starting to thicken up. Should be a nice snow.” Judith said.
Silence. Then Howard looked at Maddie and dared to ask the forbidden question, “Are you ready to talk … about what happened? What we know is so sketchy. We understand … if you’re not ready. But sometimes, the best thing is to talk about it.”
Maddie nodded. She took Joe’s hand and spoke about the unspeakable. Joe kept his head down. The images of that day given words, given life again – emotions rumbled deep inside him, emotions he knew he needed to honor, not suppress. He let silent tears fall. When Maddie finished her account of that morning, she squeezed Joe’s hand, giving him permission – no, giving him an order, Talk about it, let it out. Words give us power over our emotions. Joe opened his mouth and let words come out; words he hoped would honor his friend, his hero.
***
Joe waited by his truck in front of Denver’s airport. He prepared himself for the chastising that would come and was more than deserved – disappearing; leaving them to worry, multiplying already unbearable emotions of losing their eldest son. Joe was sorry for all that. But he did what he had to, and he hoped they would understand. Then the thought came, a thought that crushed him, crippled him – he would be going home to his brother’s funeral. As that thought hit him, he felt nauseous and his legs wobbled. He went to the men’s room and washed his face. He stared in the mirror. Oh God. Why? Dear God, why all this? I never really believed, believed in anything. If you’re really there why would you let this happen? Can I hate you? Maybe I need to hate you. How can I not hate myself? God, if you’re there, give me strength, give me … a bit of hope, and some faith, and love. And …and forgive me for not being able to believe.
***
No smiles – when his parents came through the revolving glass door, there were no smiles, only lengthy embraces communicating love and acceptance, and declaring the holy determination to be a family; a wounded, hurting family that somehow would survive.
Few words were uttered in the twelve-hour drive back home in Joe’s truck. Through the hum of the engine he could too often hear Steven’s mangled motorcycle rattling and shifting in the bed of his truck, reminding him that Steven was lost forever. Only an occasional, safe question was asked. “How’s Amber?”
“Coping.”
“Granny and Granddad?”
“Strong as ever.”
“The price of gas is killing us, isn’t it?”
“I need the bathroom. Can we stop?”
Several hours into their drive, Sarah took Joe’s hand with both of hers. She said, “I’m so so sorry about Steven. I can’t believe this has happened.” Joe nodded. “Indian Child Welfare is arranging to have his body brought home. He can be buried … next … next to his grandfather and dad.” She shook her head. “Two funerals. Two.” She paused, then said, “One … one should never have to happen. Now two.” She rubbed Joe’s hand and forearm. “We’ll be strong. We’ll get through this.”
Joe nodded again and put his head on his mother’s shoulder. “We will. Mom, dad, I’m sorry to … to put you through all this. I know how hard it was on you all, the last two days. I didn’t know what else to do.”
With his eyes straight on the road, Robert said, “You could have told us. There were others ways to … you shouldn’t have done this on your own.” Robert hit the steering wheel and shook his head. “But Joe, you … no, Joe you did what you had to. I understand that. I don’t like it. I … I hate what you had to go through, all this mess. But … well, I’m very proud. Very proud of ….” Robert’s last words faded as they came out. He glanced at Joe, offered a slight smile then nodded.
Joe’s body relaxed. A tear surfaced and slipped down his cheek – a tear of relief. They would survive; that’s what human beings do best, survive; somehow they always survive. Faith, hope, love – that would carry them through. With his head on his mother’s shoulder, he drifted off into a dreamless, forgiving sleep that offered a moment of comfort and peace – a brief escape from the grief and sorrow the coming days would bring.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“‘Death has been swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.’” The minister closed his Bible and surveyed the sea of hurt and puzzled mourners. Joe squirmed, shifting his feet and arms. He feared more tears would come, pour out uncontrollably. How can a mere emotion be so powerful, so physically painful and draining? Grief is the cruelest of emotions, always relentless and ruthless and so slow to loosen its grip. Joe stared at his feet as the preacher continued. “We gather to say goodbye, and we gather to celebrate a life well lived. But we are also here to grieve the untimely loss of a true and worthy friend to so many of you. And in this moment we offer support and love for Chuck’s family as they mourn their loss … of a loyal brother, who in strength and love worked in so many ways to hold this family together, and, the loss of a son who never failed to make his parents proud.” Joe looked
up, the preacher fixed his gaze on him; his eyes penetrated his soul that was looking for some morsel of faith. The preacher’s voice became more powerful and more comforting. “Death is always cruel and always unwelcomed. But death is horrible and tragic when it dares to come to one whose journey of life had barely begun. This is when we need to embrace faith with our hearts and souls. For it is faith that declares death does not have the last word. The resurrection is the promise, the guarantee of the eternal. We dare to believe that death gives way to life anew, to life eternal. The comforting reality we must embrace, is that Chuck precedes us, waits for us. ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?’ Gone. Gone forever. We grieve, we hurt, we wrestle with the question of why. But we grieve with the abiding confidence that our Redeemer lives. Chuck is now with the Creator, the Savior. Because that is true, our grief can find comfort. Let us declare our confidence as we close by singing together, To God Be the Glory.”
As the organ began playing, Joe covered his face with both hands and leaned over. Burying his head on his knees, he tried to push the tears back. His father’s arm slid up his back until his warm and strong hand cupped Joe’s neck with a gentle grip. “It’s okay. He deserves our tears.” Sobs followed his father’s whispered words. Joe sat up and embraced his father and their tears mingled together.
***
Maddie noticed Joe sitting alone on the front porch, swaying slowly and methodically in the old rocking chair. She knew he was trying to escape the barrage of mourners offering that grimaced turn of the lips and slight nod of the head – protocol for any wake. She too hated all those the nonverbal pronouncements that pretended to understand a family’s grief; no doubt, underneath the show of sorrow were prayers of thanks that they were not the ones grieving. She slipped out the front door. Looking down at him, she reached out her hand. Joe clasped her hand firmly and she helped him out of the creaking rocking chair. They furtively slipped down the porch steps, across the front yard and walked quickly down the street until they were outsight of Joe’s home.