Evidence of Mercy (33 page)

“He should go anyway,” Paige said. “After all you're doing for him . . .”

Lynda looked at her thoughtfully. “Is that why you're coming with me? Because you feel you owe me something?”

Paige looked embarrassed, as though she'd just stuck her foot in her mouth. “No, of course not. I told you, I need to get Brianna back in church. You've made it easier. It's not always so easy to walk into a new church by yourself.”

Lynda wasn't sure she believed her. “I didn't mean to strong-arm you into going with me or to make you feel guilty if you didn't. It's just that what they teach there is the most important thing in the world.” She glanced into the rearview mirror as she merged into the next lane. “I just wish Jake would have come. He needs to hear that message more than anything.”

Paige didn't respond, and Lynda wondered whether she agreed.

They pulled into the parking lot of the church, waiting behind a few cars looking for parking places as cars from the earlier service left. Three security guards in the parking lot helped to direct traffic. She glanced in her rearview mirror again to see if she was holding anyone up.

A pale blue car slowed at the entrance to the parking lot, hesitated, and then drove on. The car looked familiar, but many of the cars here looked familiar.

They parked and went into the church, and again, Paige opted to stay in Brianna's class with her. She was starting to learn where everything was and what was expected of her, and the teacher seemed glad to see her.

As she went to her class, Lynda hoped that Paige would also seize the chance to be ministered to. She wasn't sure that the foundation of Paige's faith was any stronger than Jake's was.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

O
utside, Keith circled the church, trying to decide what to do. He had seen Paige and Brianna in the car with Lynda, so he could forget about the bomb, at least for today. He wanted Lynda dead, and if Paige had to go, too, the more the merrier. But he didn't want his little girl to die.

Besides, even after the traffic died down, the security guards remained in the parking lot like sentinels guarding the cars.

Continuing past the church, he pulled into an empty space in the parking lot of a closed jewelry store. For a moment, he just sat and thought, trying to sort out the possibilities.

Brianna was in that church somewhere now. Probably since she was a visitor and the teachers didn't know the family, no one would protest if her own father showed up to get her.

On the other hand, if she went into hysterics and started screaming like she had the other day, they would call the police. And this time there would be witnesses.

Still, there was no harm in going in to check things out. Then he could make a plan. He reached into the glove compartment for the fake mustache and thick glasses he'd used the day he bought the dynamite. Then, walking at a brisk pace as though he knew where he was going, he went in the back door of the church, hoping to avoid the Christian “welcome wagon” that always seemed to be on the lookout for visitors.

He ducked into a men's room at the end of the hall and wet his hair so he could comb it back. It wasn't him anymore, he thought, looking into the mirror. It was someone else—someone who couldn't be identified.

He went back into the hallway. There seemed to be classrooms further down the hall. He saw the babies through a glass window in the nursery nearby. The kids seemed to get older as he walked on until finally, he came to the three-year-olds' room.

He passed the door quickly without looking in for fear of startling Brianna if she saw him. But then he turned back and peered in from the side.

He saw his little girl working a puzzle at a table near the door. His heart began to race.

Just a few steps away, he thought. All he would have to do is wait till the teacher had her back to him, take a few steps inside the door, and grab Brianna before she had the chance to scream. He could have her in his car before anyone noticed she was gone.

He stepped closer, trying to see inside to where the teacher was. He saw two of them, and they both had their backs to him. It was perfect.

“I'm finished!” Brianna said, popping the last piece into the puzzle. “Mommy, come look.”

He jumped back, startled, as the teachers turned around. One of them was Paige.

What was she doing here? Didn't they have classes for adults? Did they let just anybody teach these children?

His heart sank, and he quickly found the closest door and jogged back to his car.

When he got in, he hit his steering wheel and let out a loud curse.

Today wasn't going to be the day after all, he thought, cranking his engine and screeching away. But tomorrow had to be. Time was running out.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

I
f there was a bright side to a boring Sunday, it was that Paige had cooked a meal fit for a prince. Jake sat quietly at the table, reminded of his days as a child when one of his friends—Jimmy Anderson—used to go to church every Sunday then come home and eat a big, sit-down meal with his parents. Jake had envied him. Doris always used Sunday mornings to catch up on her sleep, and then they feasted on sandwiches or canned ravioli on paper plates. At the time, Jake had believed that it was the meal he envied, but now he realized that it had been more than that—it was the good mood everyone seemed to bring home from church, the structure of having a reason to get all dressed up, and the camaraderie of sitting down together at the table. He'd shared that meal with the Andersons a time or two when he'd shown up to play at exactly the right moment, but when Doris had found out, she'd forbidden him to go anymore.

“They look down their noses at us,” she had said. “And when you eat with them, it's like saying that your own mother won't feed you. You can eat at home if you're hungry.”

Well, his mother couldn't stop him now.

But the conversation today was awkward, and he could see that Lynda was struggling to pull him out of his melancholy. He admired her for the attempt; he just wasn't sure that anyone could do it. Even though he'd spent the night wallowing in depression, he'd still hoped that when he woke this morning, he'd have more feeling in his feet and legs than he'd had yesterday. But he'd been disappointed again.

“Brianna likes her Sunday School class,” Paige said. “Don't you, Brianna?”

Brianna nodded and finished her mouthful of potatoes. “Are we going back tonight?”

Paige gave Lynda a questioning look.

“If you want to,” Lynda said. “I'm going, and I'd love for you to go with me.”

“Can we go every day?”

Paige laughed. “No, honey. They don't have it every day.”

Brianna looked perplexed at that.

“So what did they teach you in there?” Jake asked for the sake of conversation.

“About Jesus making people well.” Her eyes brightened, and she began to get excited. “And there was this guy like you, Jake, and he couldn't walk, only they didn't have wheelchairs then—”

“She asked,” Paige interjected with a smile.

“But he was lying down by the beautiful gate, the man was—”

“The name of the gate was Beautiful,” Paige clarified.

“And you know what happened?”

“What?” Jake asked, getting uncomfortable.

“Some of Jesus' friends came and told the man to stand up, only he couldn't stand up, but they took his hand like this—” She slid down from her chair and went to take Jake's hand to demonstrate. “And he said—what did he say, Mommy?”

“Rise and walk,” Paige said.

“Yeah!” Brianna said. “He said, ‘Rise and walk,' and you know what the man did?”

Jake withdrew his hand and took a deep breath. He didn't want to know what the man had done. He didn't care because it had nothing to do with him. But the child waited beside him, bursting with excitement, and he knew she wouldn't back down until he took the bait. “What?”

“He got right up, and he could walk!”

Jake glanced at Lynda, who was smiling proudly at the child's enthusiasm, and he wondered if they'd rehearsed it in the car. He didn't like being talked about behind his back, and in his opinion, the story they'd chosen was particularly cruel. He didn't appreciate it.

“That story is in Acts, isn't it? And who gave him the power to do that, Brianna?” Lynda prompted.

“Jesus!” she said. “Jake, why don't you do it?” When he didn't answer, she shook his arm. “Jake?”

“I heard you,” he said, staring down at his food. “I heard every word.” He looked up at Lynda and Paige. “Nice try. If I recall, there are stories in there about people's eyes being gouged out, too. You want to lay one of those on me?”

“Jake, come on,” Lynda said. “We didn't plan this.”

Jerking his napkin out of his lap, he threw it on the table and started to back out of his place.

“Jake, what's a matter?” Brianna asked in her high-pitched voice.

“Nothing's the matter,” he said, glaring at Lynda again. “You know, it's reprehensible to use a child to deal a low blow like that.”

Lynda's face showed the full force of her anger. “Oh, right. Riding home in the car today, I asked Paige what we could do to really twist the knife in you. We came up with that story, and Paige said, ‘I know! Let's use Brianna!' It was a clever plan, Jake, only you're too smart for us.”

Confused at the exchange, Brianna sat back down, still looking at Jake, and said softly, “I asked Jesus to make you walk. Didn't I, Mommy?”

Paige put a protective arm around her daughter. “Yes, honey. You sure did.” Her voice hardened, and she leered at Jake. “She told the whole class about you, Jake, and we all prayed for you. I don't know how you can turn this into some kind of conspiracy.”

A host of emotions did battle on his face. “I don't need your prayers.”

“Well, you're getting them anyway,” Lynda said. “Powerful ones. Jesus said that children's angels always see the face of God.” She looked at Brianna. “That means that God listens extra carefully to the prayers of children.”

Jake, too, looked at the baffled child staring up at him with those big, questioning eyes.

“If that's the case,” he said, “then where was God when her dad was abusing her? If God's paying special attention to the children, why do so many of them have to suffer?”

And Lynda knew that they weren't just talking about Brianna any more. They were talking about Jake.

Trying with all her might to fight her anger instead of Jake, she lowered herself back into her chair. “God got her out of there, didn't he? He used her mother to protect her.”

“Why didn't he protect her before anything ever happened?”

She hesitated. “I don't know. There's a lot of evil in this world, Jake. God didn't cause it. And we don't know how he's working in suffering children's lives. We don't even know how he's working in our lives.”

“Then you're contradicting yourself again, Lynda. Out of one side of your mouth, you tell me this beautiful idea about children having angels with access to God. And out of the other side, you say that it really doesn't make that much difference because God can't protect us from evil.”

“I didn't say that he couldn't. God can do anything.”

“Oh, I see. He just won't.”

Paige's hand came down hard on the table, startling them all. “That's not what she said, Jake, and you know it!”

“It
is
what she said.”

Lynda started to speak, but Paige stopped her. “You have a lot of nerve, you know that?” she said. “All she's done is take care of you, be a friend to you, feed you, give you a place to live—and you still keep throwing her kindness back in her face!”

“Paige, it's all right,” Lynda said quietly.

“No, it isn't!” she said. “And as for God, he
has
protected Bri-anna. He's protected me, too. He gave us Lynda, and a place to live, and a means to get away from Keith. And he even made it so I didn't have to worry about money or a job or anything while I'm waiting to go to court. And I know he's going to take care of that, too. I know because he's taken care of everything else.” Tears choked her, and she stopped, trying to steady her voice. “You know, you're not just blind in that one eye. You're blind in both eyes if you can't see that God is providing for you, too. If he didn't care, you'd still be in the hospital right now, and everybody would be trying to figure out what to do with you!”

Brianna started to cry. Picking her up and hugging her close, Paige went on. “Or worse. You could be just like you were before the accident, walking around on two good legs with two good eyes, worshiping that Porsche of yours and in all your vanity and arrogance, be even more blind and crippled than you are now!”

Lynda collapsed back into her chair and covered her face, uttering a silent prayer that whatever happened, the outcome of this wouldn't be as bad as she anticipated.

Paige stormed from the room, carrying Brianna, and silence fell over them as Jake sat motionless in his wheelchair, avoiding Lynda's eyes.

She rubbed her hands down her face and looked at him over her fingertips. “Jake, I'm sorry.”

He started rolling his chair toward the door. “I think I'd better go now.”

“But you didn't finish eating.”

“I'm not hungry,” he said quietly and left the house.

B
ack in his room, Jake pulled himself onto the bed and lay flat, looking up at the ceiling. Tears rolled down his temples, and he wondered why he felt as if he were drowning in that waist-deep pool with legs that served only as cement weights to pull him under. Why did he try to pull everyone else down with him?

Restless, he sat up, wiped his face, and pushed his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes strayed to the drawer in the table beside his chair where she'd put that Bible. He pulled it out and began flipping through it.