The Valley of Dry Bones (17 page)

When they returned, Doc with the weapons in hand, Mahir said, “Now you'd better tell me what I've done that's caused you of all people—”

“Oh, stop with the histrionics, Mahir. You start the day with a bad attitude, insulting the sweetest woman in the group. Then we get back
here and you tell me you saw WatDoc and never alerted me. You admit you've pretty much forgotten what we're doing out here.”

“Yeah, I have.”

“We can live with that, Mahir. Everybody goes through slumps. We're a small band. We pick each other up, we move on. But there's only sixteen of us. We can't have a liar among us, a manipulator, or worse.”

“What are you saying, Zeke?”

“You lied.”

“Who did I lie to?”

Zeke looked away and shook his head. “You're just making it worse, man. I thought I knew you. We worked side by side for years. You gonna make me say it, make me tell you, when you're the one who did it? You just did it!”

Mahir sat staring, then turned to Doc as if thoroughly confused.

“You lied to me, Mahir,” Doc said. “You think I don't know my own wife? You told me she left the patient, told me she asked you to take over, said she couldn't take the smell. You think that was gonna fly, the wife of a doctor violating protocol or not being able to take the smells?”

“Yeah, okay, so I fibbed. Sorry.”

“You fibbed, so you're sorry?” Zeke said. “If you were done in the lab and wanted to read, you come back here and read! What'd you think, I'd fire you for that? You lock yourself in with Cristelle, her oxygen machine is turned off, the alarm is sounding, she's not breathing, and if we don't show up, she's dead. How were you gonna explain that?”

“I was trying to help her and was going to call you!”

“It doesn't add up, Mahir. None of it makes any sense. It looks like you tried to kill her!”

“
That's
what you believe?
That's
why you took my guns?”

“That's why I can't trust you anymore. How can I? I can't have you among the group, man. I need your keys.”

Mahir tossed them to him. “You're going to lock me in my own place?”

“I have no choice.”

“For how long?”

“The elders will decide. Or you'll come clean and tell me what's really going on.”

“How will I eat?”

“We'll see that you have enough.”

“I'll go crazy in here.”

“I don't plan to torture you, Mahir.”

“How about I just leave? You'll never see me again.”

“We believe you tried to kill someone. We'd have to report you.”

“Then I want a lawyer.”

“Maybe, when the time comes. But remember, you're not entitled to the same privileges as you are when you're living outside California.”

“You're holding me against my will.”

“Mahir, we have an implicit code of conduct. We can't risk you giving away our position. Plus we want to give you every opportunity to remedy this.”

“How? Wouldn't I say anything, agree to anything, just to be free?”

“We'll see. I need to ask you one more thing, Mahir. Do you understand Arabic?”

Mahir looked stricken. He cocked his head. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Just curious. I've known you a long time and never knew of it, if it's true.”

“Could you repeat the question?”

“Do I need to?”

Mahir shook his head. “It's just so out of the blue, out of context.”

“I hope so. You going to answer?”

“No.”

“You don't know Arabic, or you're not going to answer?”

“The latter. I'm being treated unfairly. I want a lawyer and I want out of here.”

Back at the Gills', with Alexis gone and Jennie sleeping, Zeke filled in Pastor Bob. “We can postpone this meeting.”

“Isn't this a day for great news,” Bob said, sighing. “No. Thanks for being straight with me about Jennie. That had to be hard. We're going to have to talk about what I'm to do when the time comes, getting her home, dealing with the authorities, not exposing the rest of you, all that. Of course the family will want a service. But let's finish our business.”

“Then I yield the meeting back to you,” Zeke said.

Pastor Bob spread his roster of names on the kitchen table. “Katashi, Raoul, Danley, and Mahir,” he said. “Well, that last one's moot. How are you going to manage him as a prisoner, Zeke? I can hardly fathom it.”

“What choice do I have?”

“Interesting,” Doc said, chuckling. “No matter who we choose from this list, I'll no longer be the minority elder, Zeke. You will.”

Zeke focused on the list. “Seriously? That's what's on your mind right now?”

“Had you seen yourself that way, Doc?” Pastor Bob said. “Did you feel treated that way?”

“It just is what it is.”

“Something we need to learn?” Zeke said.

Doc shook his head. “Can't, don't, won't ever. Don't worry about it.”

“Even if we want to?” Zeke said. “Are open to?”

“I shouldn't have brought it up. Let it go.”

Doc jumped when the beeper on Jennie's IV sounded. As he changed out the bag, Pastor Bob crept over and took the doll from Jennie and studied it, smiling. He slipped it back in her hand, fetched a small blanket, and draped it over her.

When they returned to the table, Pastor Bob said, “As I see it, our options have been cut in half. Mahir's out, and do you agree Danley is too young and too new to the faith? I mean,
elder
self-defines.”

“Not to mention,” Zeke said, “his spiritual father, his mentor, was Mahir. So it's down to Katashi and Raoul.”

“I love both those men,” the pastor said. “And they both came to Christ around the same time. Ironic that they came to us as friends, coworkers.”

Zeke chuckled. “Garbagemen.”

Pastor Bob sat back and crossed his arms, seeming to study Zeke. “I have to tell you something, my friend,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This is remarkable, you sitting here seeking the Lord about elevating to the position of elder the man responsible for the death of your firstborn child.”

Zeke let that sink in. “Hadn't crossed my mind.”

The pastor nodded. “That's the grace of God.”

D
OC AGREED THAT
Danley was too young, both in age and in the faith, so the choice for elder came down to Katashi Aki or Raoul Gutierrez. “But Pastor Bob,” Doc said, lowering his voice, “should Jennie pass as soon as I believe she will, are you sure you need to be replaced?”

“I was wondering the same,” Zeke said, trying not to be indelicate. “Would you consider just a leave of absence, letting one of us fill in for you—”

“Yes,” Doc said quickly, leaning in. “I'd be happy to do what I used to do back in Torrance.”

Pastor Bob shook his head. “I know it's only been a week since the diagnosis, and I've worried what I'll do with myself without a ministry. But choosing a new leader feels right, especially if you're correct. I'm just not prepared for her to be gone in less than a month.”

“Pastor, I hope you know how deeply it pains me to say it,” Doc said, “but you don't want her to survive even seven more days with this. I'm sorry, but you'll be praying for the mercy of her passing before that.”

Pastor Bob grimaced. “Even with you keeping her pain-free?”

Doc nodded.

“I see. Then no. I will in no way be equipped to still be pastor. I'm sorry.”

“Believe me,” Zeke said, “we understand.”

“Thirsty.”

The three turned as one at Jennie's voice, and Doc rose. Pastor Bob put a hand on his arm. “Let me.”

“Of course. Water first, remember.”

The pastor grabbed the bottle and the medicine from near the door and knelt by her side.

“So tired,” she rasped.

“I know,” he said, twisting off the cap. “Are we disturbing you?”

“Hmm?”

He slipped his hand behind her head and lifted. “Just sip.” She took a couple of swallows. “More?” She shook her head.

He peeked at Doc. “It's up to her,” Doc mouthed.

“Who's here?” she said.

“Doc and Zeke. Would you rather be alone?”

She shook her head. “'s okay. Sleepy.”

“You hurting anywhere?”

“Um-hm.”

“You are?”

She nodded. He looked to Doc again. “Give her a tablet if she'll take it.”

She opened her mouth and he put it on her tongue. “Bitter,” she mumbled.

“Here's more water.”

She shook her head.

Bob looked at Doc, who shrugged. “It'll work that way too if she can stand it. That's an awful-tasting med.”

Jennie's breathing grew even and deep.

“I think she's out,” the pastor said.

“Just as well,” Doc said. “Good that she got a little water down, and if she can sleep in spite of that taste, she must really be hurting. She should be comfortable for a good hour.”

Pastor Bob set down the bottle and the medicine and placed one hand on her head and the other on her shoulder. Zeke saw Bob's tears. Doc
looked as if he were about to go to him. Zeke whispered, “Let's give him a minute.”

But it became more than a minute. The couple had been married a long time, had grown kids and grandkids they had virtually sacrificed for this life. Jennie had been the quintessential ministry wife, by Bob's side, supporting him from the beginning.

Presently he rose and wiped his eyes, grabbed his Bible from a shelf, and rejoined Doc and Zeke. “So grateful she can just rest. Funny the value of small things now.” He opened his Bible. “Anyway, let me just say I'm ready to step down. We'll need to talk about logistics when Jennie's time comes. Our family will want a memorial service. I'll want to go home, I don't know for how long, and determine my future. If I ever come back, I don't need or want to be an elder. I know you'd put me to work and I'd be of some use. Now then, let's do things in order. Replace me as elder, then replace me as pastor.”

“Okay, let's get on with it,” Doc said. “Who votes for Raoul?”

“Slow down,” Zeke said.

“Yes,” Pastor Bob said. “Let me share a bit from the Scripture, then a little of what I know of both candidates, and I'll officially step away.”

“One more thing,” Doc said. “I am willing to be the new pastor.”

“You've made that clear,” Pastor Bob said. “But it isn't a role you volunteer for, claim, or even apply for. The new elder board is to select the man as the Lord leads.”

“We should decide next Sunday then,” Doc said, “and I would like to bring a message first—one the Lord has laid on my heart. That should dispel any misgivings on the parts of the other two elders.”

Zeke was ready to burst. By then he hardly cared if Doc replaced Pastor Bob if he wanted it so badly.

“That,” Pastor Bob said, sighing, “will be up to you and Zeke and whoever you select as the new elder. For now, let me read this from 1 Timothy. Consider this carefully in light of the two men under consideration, not to mention yourselves and your own roles:

“If a man desires the position of a bishop, he desires a good work. A
bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, temperate, sober-minded, of good behavior, hospitable, able to teach; not given to wine, not violent, not greedy for money, but gentle, not quarrelsome, not covetous; one who rules his own house well, having his children in submission with all reverence (for if a man does not know how to rule his own house, how will he take care of the church of God?); not a novice, lest being puffed up with pride he fall into the same condemnation as the devil. Moreover he must have a good testimony among those who are outside, lest he fall into reproach and the snare of the devil.”

Bob looked up. “Now, neither of your candidates has children, and only one of them is married. Does that disqualify them? I think not. The principle here is that a man should not be an adulterer and that if he is a father, he should be a faithful and disciplined one. The three of us have known both these men for about the same length of time, and I have served as their pastor that entire time. Spiritually I see them on a virtually equal plane. I believe they are both men of character and principle who love God and are committed to serving Him. They are here for the right reasons. There are two distinct differences between them that I would like you to point out if they also strike you.”

“I think they're obvious,” Doc said.

“So do I,” Zeke said.

“Well then each of you take one. Doc, you first.”

“I think Katashi is more intelligent than Raoul, not that Raoul is ignorant. Raoul has gifts that Katashi doesn't, but I'm guessing Katashi has a higher IQ, is more of an academic.”

“I agree,” Zeke said, “but Raoul might be brighter than Katashi in some others areas. Street smarts maybe. The other major difference? Raoul is far more gregarious. More of a people person, outgoing, passionate, humorous, dramatic.”

“Exactly,” Pastor Bob said. “Does that make your decision easier or harder?”

“Harder,” Doc said. “I'd like to have a hybrid of them both.”

“Just what I was going to say,” Zeke said.

Pastor Bob tore a sheet of paper in half. “Pray while I sit with Jennie a few minutes. When you're ready for a secret ballot, I'll come back.”

Zeke felt smug. Part of him worried that because Doc was prideful and so badly wanted the pastorate, he might hold out for whichever of the two he thought he could most easily influence and pick him for that role. But the other part of him knew that God had chosen to speak audibly to him, so he needn't worry about trying to decide for himself. All he had to do was ask, and God would tell him. And who was Doc to stand in the way of God's will?