Deadline

  “Finney and I have been speaking of the days on earth, treasures in heaven, and the rooms Elyon’s Son prepares for his own.”

  A big smile broke out on Zeke’s face, as if this was a favorite subject.

  “This is something Zeke knows much about, master Finney. I served him on earth some time ago, before I was assigned to you. I saw his life, and I know Zeke’s room in the great city will be large, very large. His reward will be great.”

  Zeke handled the compliment well, with only slight embarrassment. He said to Finney, “It was easier for me in many ways. See, I was a slave.”

  Finney’s eyes grew big. “A slave—and you say it was easier?”

  “Oh, there was much that was very hard. To live in poverty. For my wife to be used by the one I had to call master. To have two of my children taken from me when they got old enough to plow a field. That was the hardest—much harder than the beatings.

  “I survived the whippings by taking my mind from earth and putting it here. I couldn’t read very well, but I did memorize a lot of the Good Book. And I thought about it all day, in the cotton fields, and whenever Nancy was mistreated and whenever I wanted to kill somebody for what they did to my mother and wife and children.”

  “It must have been terrible.”

  “Sometimes. But I had my joys. The love of family. What could be sweeter than that? The smell of a good plate of beans. Lilacs in the spring. A gentle breeze. The feel of fresh cold river water going down your dry throat in the summer. But best of all was just thinking about this place here. A few times, when it was hardest, God gave me visions of heaven. I thought they were just dreams. But as soon as I got here I knew they’d been visions because what I saw was here. It was this place, and the place to come, the new heavens and new earth—at least, I think so, because some things I haven’t seen here yet.

  “This was my home. The other place was like a rented room. I knew I was just passin’ through, and when you’re just passin’ through you don’t get too attached. We loved those Scriptures that said this was our home. We loved the reminders we were pilgrims, aliens, strangers in a foreign country. ‘Our citizenship is in heaven, from which we await a Savior.’” Zeke laughed. “I said that verse so many times a day, Elyon himself must have gotten tired of it, and he wrote it!”

  Finney laughed right along with Zeke, and even Zyor seemed to find humor in it.

  “See, Finney, for all the same reasons the rich and comfortable loved their homes on earth and didn’t relish the thought of leaving them, we looked forward to the final day and the long tomorrow. That’s the reason for our songs—‘Swing low, sweet chariot, comin’ for to carry me home.”’

  Now Zeke broke into song, his beautiful baritone resonating with emotion. “‘Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world, goin’ home to live wid God. No more weepin’ and a wailin’, I’m goin to live wid God.”’

  Finney saw, in his mind’s eye, Zeke standing in torn clothes, working in a field, back bent from fourteen-hour days. This often happened when he met new friends here—their bodies were windows to their character, and their character had been molded by their past on earth. So when one became familiar with another, he always learned the story of how he had served Elyon on earth. Finney was constantly reminded that no one’s life in the other world was forgotten and irrelevant, but had ongoing and vital links to his identity in this one.

  “That song was on your lips when you left the dark world,” Zyor said to Zeke.

  “Was it now? I didn’t know that. You never told me.”

  “There is much I have not told you yet, old friend. And there is no hurry here.”

  Zeke looked at Finney. “We were privileged, you and I. Zyor was an ace of a guardian.”

  “The best,” Finney replied.

  “I longed for your freedom, Master Zeke.” Zyor’s head hung now, and in a flash he moved from sadness to fury.

  “Every time they whipped you I begged Elyon to let me break their arms. Twice he let me strike them, only twice in forty years. I agonized when I could not hold back those who hunted you down or defeat the evil spirits that compelled them.”

  Finney now saw Zeke running across a river, with a pack of dogs and six men, rifles in hand, chasing him.

  “And if you’d succeeded, I wouldn’t have come to Elyon’s world when I did, which would have been my loss.”

  Finney watched Zeke’s right shoulder explode, blood discoloring the foliage. But somehow he kept running, and for some reason the dogs ran another direction.

  “I made it to the railroad. They were the kindest white people I ever met—present company excepted, Mister Finney. It was good to die in their arms, rather than be eaten by the dogs in the woods and paraded home as another captured nigger. They had sad eyes in the railroad. And that made me trust them. The sad-eyed people knew pain, and often they knew Elyon. The steely-eyed ones, they thought they had life by the tail. They’d sooner spit on you than give you the time o’ day. I feel sorry for them now. My hardship was just for a time. Theirs is for eternity. And here I am. Ol’Zeke. Walkin the streets of heaven with the likes of Zyor and Finney. And Zyor calls me ‘Master.’ You think it didn’t take a while to get over that one?”

  Zeke let out the heartiest laugh Finney had heard since coming to heaven.

  “So don’t fret about not being able to save me, Zyor. Elyon is sovereign over the smallest things, from the hairs on your head to the flip of a coin. There’s a purpose in everything. Even if we don’t understand it till we get here.”

  Suddenly something inside him seized hold of Zeke.

  “The birthing room. I’ve got to go to the birthing room. Somebody’s comin’! Are you with me, gents?”

  Zyor and Finney moved rapidly alongside Zeke. The journey was a long one by earth’s standards, but no sooner had they gotten moving than they were there, as if the speed of thought took over and their sense of urgency created a shortcut through heaven’s version of space and time.

  On the other side of the portal was a tiny black boy lying in an all-white hospital bed, his mother and father holding each others’ hands and clutching on to the boy, as if to keep him from going anywhere. Finney could feel heaven’s tug on the boy, and his spirit seemed to be pushing toward the portal by its own will.

  “That’s Bobby. He’s got leukemia. Been hard on his ma and pa. He’s suffered pretty bad, though they’ve sure taken good care of him. Doctor’s have come a long way since my time, but when a little one hurts, everyone hurts.”

  I know, Finney thought. His mind went back to Jenny’s death. Suddenly he wanted to go find her and hug her again.

  “I knew it would be soon,” Zeke said. “He caught a glimpse of me three days ago by his time. He saw me in this robe and thought I was an angel!”

  Zeke angled his elbow upwards and poked Zyor in the ribs. The angel gave an almost-grin, as if it were a human ability he couldn’t quite get right, but wanted to.

  “Me, an angel! When he woke up for a minute, you know what he said? He said, ‘Mama, I saw an angel. And, Mama, he was black!’”

  Zeke laughed heartily again.

  “To me, these angels up here look like they’ve taken on a middle eastern dark brown. But I guess Bobby expected white. His mama got the biggest kick out of the black angel. She’s told everybody. When someone’s dyin’, people need something to laugh at. Of course, they all thought he was delirious. They never knew he really saw me. Me, the black angel!”

  Zeke whooped, and a lot more laughter joined his. Finney realized the room was now crowded with people, most of them black, all of them indescribably beautiful, wearing their character on the outside as if it were a bride’s wedding dress. He caught impressions of great stories, great suffering, and great joy. He wanted to experience their stories now, but reminded himself “there is no hurry here.”

  Zeke pressed forward and leaned over in expectation, pointing and leaning so far into the portal Finney wondered if his hand would appear
on the other side.

  “Zyor knows this, Mister Finney, but I should tell you. That woman there is my great granddaughter, and Bobby is my great great grandson. Me and Nancy used to pray for our children and their children’s children, that they would know better days. And Elyon blessed us with all these good people you see here. I’m the patriarch of this whole bunch! I was here in this room to greet every one of them. I guess you’d say I was the midwife, eh Zy?”

  His elbow flew at the big angel again. Finney had never imagined anyone calling him Zy, but there was no complaint.

  “There’s Nancy now! Get over here, woman! Bobby can’t come till you’re here with me. That was Elyon’s promise to us, remember?”

  Nancy was strikingly beautiful. Elyon had obviously used her hardships to make her into someone very special.

  Looking at Finney, Zeke explained, “Elyon said to us, ‘You were faithful to me. In every generation of your line there will be some who will follow me, and it will be your honor, both of you, to welcome them to my world.’

  “I’ve been longin’ to hold little Bobby. He’s suffered enough. It’s time for rest. It’s time for him to be able to run and play, and to eat and drink without tubes. It’s time, Elyon, it’s time, all-wise God.”

  Zeke’s voice was now strong and focused and carried authority.

  “Please, my God, bring him home now. Pull up the anchor and let him sail ’cross the lake. Now, Elyon, please bring him to us now!”

  Nancy sighed her heartfelt agreement with the prayer.

  Suddenly there was a mad rush of wind. The portal to the dark world strained and twisted. It was like the final stage of labor. Finney now saw the view from heaven’s side of the birthing room. A huge warriorlike figure slipped through to the side, out of the limelight, quietly welcomed and congratulated by Zyor and several other angels. Suddenly there was Bobby, popping through the portal into Zeke’s arms. He wore not the blue hospital gown but a beautiful white robe that fit perfectly, as if sown precisely for him and no one else. His eyes grew big, and he reached his tiny hand up to touch Zeke’s craggy face. A tear ran down Zeke’s cheek. Bobby caught it on his index finger and looked at it. Zeke held him tight.

  “Welcome to heaven, Bobby.”

  Bobby smiled wonderfully. “It doesn’t hurt any more.” He looked at Zeke and asked, “Are you Jesus?”

  There were several hearty laughs, Nancy’s the loudest.

  “No, Bobby,” Zeke replied. “Once you see Jesus, you’ll know there’s no face like his.”

  “I know who you are,” Bobby said. “You’re the angel!”

  The whole crowd laughed this time, and Zeke threw Bobby up into the air and caught him. He giggled and giggled. Everyone came up close to touch and hold the boy, in the way that you do someone you’ve loved and watched and prayed for from afar, but never been able to touch till now. Finney stepped back to give them room, feeling privileged to witness such intimate moments. Nancy held Bobby the longest, before surrendering him back to Zeke.

  Suddenly there was a bright light and a powerful but gentle presence, divine and yet fully human. It was Elyon’s Son. Everyone turned toward him in wonder, dropping on their knees. Zeke was right. There was no face like his. He was shorter than the angels, man-sized. Yet those hands had towed heavy lumber up a long lonely hill, and eons before had fashioned the galaxies themselves. The sheer force of his presence dwarfed the mightiest angel. Strangely, his eyes were moist and heavy. Finney realized the Carpenter had just gone through the agony with Bobby and his family.

  “Rise, my friends. I come to join your celebration. It’s time to prepare a special feast. Bobby has arrived!”

  The Christ’s eyes held those of the child, whose jaw hung open in wonder, his pearly white teeth perfectly matching his robe.

  “You can’t hold him forever, Zeke. Give him to me!”

  Zeke reverently held out the child, and the Creator and Lover of children took him into his arms. Turning only to say “we will see you all at the feast,” he walked away with Bobby.

  Where they went, Finney did not know, though he watched as Elyon’s Son put Bobby to the ground for the first time, and the boy took his first uncertain Bambi steps in heaven, followed by running and jumping and yelling and falling without being hurt, wildly flailing arms he hadn’t had the strength to lift in a year.

  Finney thought of the time he had spent alone with Elyon’s Son after his own birth into this world. It was the most wonderful experience he’d ever had. He could only rejoice for Bobby at the undivided attention he was now receiving. Yet here all attention was Elyon’s attention, and Finney drew closer to him every day, not only through their direct interaction, but through the indescribable way he spoke to him through each of his creatures, both men and angels.

  Zeke looked back at the portal. For a moment his joy was tempered by what he saw. Bobby’s parents wept.

  “This is the hard part. We understand what they as yet cannot. They’re going to miss him terribly. Lead us in prayer for them, will you, Finney?”

  Finney prayed, he wasn’t sure how long, his thoughts linking with others to put invisible arms around Bobby’s family. He well remembered the day he and Sue and Angie and Little Finn had lost someone so dear to them they thought they couldn’t bear to survive another hour. Elyon and his people had comforted them. And now, at last, he’d been reunited with Jenny. He was no longer on the underside of the tapestry, where all you could see were the snarls and knots and frays. He was now on the top side, where he saw the beautiful work of art woven by the Master Artist.

  “O God, give them strength to trust you and walk with you despite the blows from the last enemy, Death. Help them to know you understand how it feels to have your son suffer and die. Help them to anticipate the glorious reunion with Bobby.”

  As he finished the prayer, it occurred to Finney that after Jenny’s death, his mother had no doubt prayed for him and Sue, just as he and Zeke and Nancy and Zyor prayed for Bobby’s parents. He made a mental note—with no fear of forgetting—to join Zeke and Nancy in the birthing room for each reunion between Bobby and his family members.

  Suddenly he caught a glimpse of Jake, Janet, and Carly in an apartment living room in another world. He prayed for them, longing for them to one day experience the great reunion.

  Some of the crowd began to disperse, several excitedly making arrangements, deciding the feast would have to be just so, and saying Bobby hadn’t eaten a normal earth meal for so long, and wait until he was served not only the best food in the universe but discovered his vastly improved capacity to taste.

  Zeke and Nancy stayed where they were, exchanging hugs and handshakes and backslaps with dozens of great-grandmothers and great-aunts and great-uncles, all chattering on and on about the goodness of Elyon, and how another of their family had come home.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The seventeen-year-old girl put down the book, heavily underlined. She had considered her options carefully. While this one was messy, it was at least fast. She looked through the medicine cabinet and found the hidden pack of blades for Mom’s old-style razor. Carly removed one of the blades, looking at it carefully to be sure it was new and sharp.

  She sat on the edge of the bathtub. Her eyes were empty. The will to live was gone and in its place was a power from somewhere else, a power that gave her the will to die. Deliberately she lowered the blade to her wrist, to just the right place the book had described.

  With a sudden slashing motion she chose death over life. Blood gushed from her wrist, which she’d been careful to hold over the bathtub, wanting to make as little mess as possible for her mother. Carly turned pale and slumped into the tub, her life flowing down the drain.

  Suddenly, with a strength that shouldn’t have been in her, she looked toward someone at the bathroom door, someone watching her, and screamed, “You did this to me. It’s your fault. I hate you! I hate you!”

  “Carly! No! No! Don’t! Carly!” Jake jumped out of
bed, turned a circle, and ran to his door, flipping on the overhead light and frantically looking back into his room. Champ was on alert, trying to find the enemy, not sure whether to bark or at what. Jake kept looking around the room and saw the clock that said 4:30 A.M.

  Then he stepped quickly to his bathroom, turned on the glaring light, and looked in the bright white tub. It was empty. He sat on the bathtub’s edge. For some reason he turned on the water. He sat motionless for five minutes while the water ran.

  Jake pulled up close against the curb right before Sue’s driveway, tucking in next to the familiar maple tree. He remembered when the tree was young and small, back when Finney and Sue had moved here twenty years ago. Now it towered, still looking majestic despite losing more of itself every day to the ravages of late fall. Even as he watched, a yellowish-purple leaf fell, sashaying its way down, picking up one gentle gust after another, like a hang glider trying to catch the right current to postpone its inevitable appointment with the ground. It was mid-November, and a shivery Oregon winter took its turn at the season’s helm.

  Jake sat in the Mustang reviewing the morning’s events. He’d called Janet at 6:45 to make sure Carly was okay, asking her to check in on the room where her little girl slept, just to make sure. Janet could sense something in his voice, she always could, but of course he didn’t tell her about the dream. He said he was just checking. She said that was nice, but sounded worried about him. He hadn’t gone back to bed since the dream, and felt like he never would.

  Still a few minutes early and not eager to go in, he got out and looked at the maple tree, pondering whether it was really possible someone stooped over by this tree, then crawled under Doc’s Suburban. Someone with an ordinary hacksaw and an extraordinary thirst to kill. Jake examined the concrete driveway, wishing the ground could talk and wondering what story it would tell. He wasn’t looking forward to walking into a room of anti-abortionists, where everyone would suddenly quit talking about him and stare, then try to gang up and convert him.