The Folds Page 22

  Pastor Brock finished reading the scripture he had begun prior to the quartet’s entry. “Therefore let all bitterness and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice: And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.” He removed his glasses and momentarily rubbed his eyes as the foursome took their place on the bench and settled in. “You know, I had this big sermon planned for today, but now I think I’d rather tell you a story instead.” He paused to collect his thoughts and paced in a small circle.

  “There was a father who had two sons,” he began. “He had several servants and livestock and land to work—a pretty well-to-do guy—then one day the youngest son asked for his inheritance and left his father and brother with his fortune to seek out his own desires.” Pastor Brock strode slowly from one side of the stage to the other, making direct eye contact with his flock. “This son spent his money quickly and lived wildly! He didn’t stay in touch with his father or brother, and then all of a sudden the money ran out. There was a famine at the time, so the son went to work for a man who would only let him live and eat with his pigs.” He crossed the stage and stopped directly in front of Danny and Sarah.

  Chester turned to Butch, smiled softly, and placed his hand on his son’s knee, patting him tenderly a few times.

  “Then one day,” Pastor Brock continued, “the son said to himself, ‘Maybe I should go home! I don’t feel so good about my decisions! I think was better off when I was in my father’s house!’ So he goes home. He goes home. His father sees his son coming down the road and runs to him, embracing him, kissing him, then yells out to his servants, ‘Get my son the best robe and put it on him! Get him some shoes! Get him a ring for his hand! Kill the fatted calf! Let us eat and be merry! My son who was once dead is alive again!’”

  Danny felt his chest begin to tighten. His throat was drying out, his head pounded, and his heart raced.

  Pastor Brock pointed to the heavens and closed the story with a triumphant declaration. “He was once lost! And now is found!”

  Tears of pain and joy flowed down Sarah’s and Danny’s faces. Danny tried to suppress his tiny, wispy yelps of emotion, struggling with all of his might to not have a complete breakdown in front of the congregation. Butch sensed a great beating in his heart, a longing pressure he hadn’t felt, or at least allowed himself to feel, in years. A feeling that comforted him and told him everything was going to be okay, that all was forgiven and he could have faith once more if he tried.

  Pastor Brock stood directly in front of Danny and tenderly confessed, “We all get lost sometimes, and it’s okay. It’s okay because our Father never loses sight of us.”

  Sarah pulled a handkerchief from her purse and dabbed her eyes as she attempted to regain her composure.

  “Let us pray,” the pastor instructed.

  After church services, Danny, Sarah, Butch, and Chester approached Pastors Brock and Cregan near the podium.

  “Man! It is so good to hear your voice again!” Danny exclaimed as he energetically embraced Pastor Brock. “I didn’t know I missed being here so much!”

  “Well, I just thank God you’re safe, you’re all right, and more importantly, that you’re here!” Pastor Brock beamed as he grasped Danny’s shoulders, giving him a good looking over. “How’re ya doin’, guy?”

  “Great! Doin’ great!” Danny replied jubilantly as he reached back for Butch and his father. “Brother Ray, these are friends of mine, Butch Farley and his dad Chester. An’ you know Mom!”

  Sarah reached out with both arms and embraced Pastor Brock, clinging to him tightly as she wept tears of happiness.

  “What a great morning!” the pastor announced while hugging Sarah. “This is such a blessing!”

  “Now don’t you get me all riled up again!” Sarah requested while wiping her eyes. “You already done it once today!”

  “And it’s a blessing to see some new faces in the crowd. Butch? Chester? Y’all from out of town?”

  “Butch works with mom,” Danny blurted. “He’s her boss.”

  “Well, he’s not really my boss,” she politely contradicted. “But I do work directly with him quite a bit.”

  “Thanks for the good speech,” Butch began timidly and extended his hand to the pastors.

  “Chester Farley, sir, and how lovely to meet you!” his father stealthily interrupted with a flash of his signature grin, ready to make his great first impression. “Very uplifting message this morning, sir,” he spewed. “Very touching, moving, uh, inspiring…” In not finding any other impressive words to describe the sermon, he stood awkwardly with Pastor Brock, still shaking his hand vigorously.

  “Thank you, thank you,” Pastor Brock replied, breaking Chester’s handshake. “So what finally brings ya’ll out this mornin’?”

  “Danny invited us to come out today for a little change of scenery,” Chester explained before anyone could get a word in.

  Butch stared at his father in disbelief as he continued with his performance.

  “And I am sure glad we did! This is beautiful,” Chester added as he looked about the sanctuary.

  “So what church do ya’ll regularly attend?” Brother Mike asked.

  The quartet of friends looked to one another, waiting for someone to come up with an acceptable explanation.

  “They’ve been to several around the north lately, haven’t you?” Danny remarked with a wink to Butch to join in the charade. “I think ya’ll said Northridge First Assembly, right?”

  Pastors Brock and Cregan looked at each other confusedly, being not at all familiar with the name.

  “They’re out looking for a place to call a second home. Isn’t that what you said the other day over tea, Chester?” Sarah added.

  “Oh…yes…yes, sir!” Chester agreed with a chuckle as he caught on. “Second home, that’s right! We been waitin’ to see where we feel welcome and comfortable…to devote our extra time so we can get to know the congregation.”

  “We’d love to have you here!” Pastor Brock said. “We sure got great people…people that’ll make ya feel more than welcome!”

  “We’re not too big, but not too small, just about the right size to know enough but not everything and still feel secure!” Pastor Cregan chimed in for the closing pitch as he picked up hymnals from the seats.

  “Great! Sounds good,” Butch said while he and Chester nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Now, Chester,” Pastor Brock began advising as he motioned for them to walk toward the foyer, “you’ll probably want to start with the seniors group. I think you’ll fit in well with them.” Then he added firmly with a low glance over his glasses, “And, Sarah, you might wanna get back into the women’s home group again.” He turned to Danny and, raising his voice back over his shoulder, said, “Danny, you and Butch can start in the adult group!”

  “Oh, I’ve been gone so long,” Sarah stated, wincing with a lack of confidence. “I don’t think the girls would like it if I were to—”

  “I think,” Pastor Brock interrupted, stopped, and turned to Sarah, “if you would give them a chance, they’d prob’ly like to give you a second chance!” He opened the door of the sanctuary that led to the foyer.

  As Sarah entered the foyer, her heart took flight when she spied her best friends waiting for her. Monica, Holly, Terry, and Joey, along with their husbands, all stood to welcome home their sorely missed lifelong friend. She raised her hands to cover her face, unable to contain her emotions. The four women, now with tears streaming down their cheeks, walked over to Sarah and encircled her, wrapping their arms around her.

  “I’m so sorry!” Sarah gushed, so full of pain and happiness at the same time.

  “Sssshhh, it’s all right! It’s okay now. We know it’s been hard.”

  “I love you all so much. I’ve been so stupid and selfish. I’m sorry!” Sarah confessed.

  “It’s okay, hon. You don’t need to
apologize.”

  The girls offered their support while holding Sarah’s hands, stroking her hair, and rubbing her back.

  Pastors Brock and Cregan, along with Butch, Chester, Danny, and the four husbands, formed a ring around the group of embracing friends, placing their hands on their shoulders.

  The nine men then bowed their heads as Pastor Brock prayed aloud, “We thank You and praise You, our most kind and gracious heavenly Father…”

  ANOTHER DOOR CLOSES

  It was in late August of the following year. Butch was in his office at the Texas Rangers station. His desk was cluttered to the point of complete obscurity by the stacks of files and notebooks. The walls, covered with photos, maps, dry-erase boards, and flowcharts, masked the numerous awards, plaques, and certificates he garnered over his many years of dedicated and consistent service. Danny brazenly entered the office, unannounced, to pick him up for lunch. As he watched Butch search for a specific file in his stacks of paperwork, Danny plopped down hard on the couch, waiting to be acknowledged. He couldn’t help but notice the level of irritation and volume in Butch’s voice as he finished a phone conversation.

  “So what did ballistics say?” he asked, aggravated, with his free hand on his hip. “Well, there has to be! Look! You can’t fire a gun four times and have four different groove patterns. It just doesn’t happen,” he blasted, waving his arm in the air before continuing. “Well, run it again! I’m not coming down there to do your job! That’s what I want to confirm: if the grooves match all four times, then we got the same gun. Run it again!” he ordered with a slam of the phone.

  Butch stared at his desk and the volumes of congested information.

  “Troubles with the democrats again?” Danny asked smartly, lying nonchalantly on the couch with his leg dangling over the arm.

  “Oh!” Butch stammered, tossing his pen and glasses on top of the desk. “A hitchhiker reported a body just outside of Grapeland in Houston County.” He turned to face a large, detailed map of the entire State of Texas behind his desk, pointing out the area as Danny rose to his feet and joined him. “Says that he had a single self-inflicted gunshot wound.” He placed a red pushpin in the map. “We found the bullet is very similar—”

  “Man, am I hungry! Let’s go!” Danny interrupted, slumping in the armchair next to the desk and lifting his legs to prop his feet.

  “Very similar…” Butch repeated with much vigor, slapping Danny’s legs off the desk, “…to that of three girls that have died over the past nineteen years. Their bodies have been found anywhere from fifteen to eighty miles of the metro area with the same—”

  Butch was again interrupted by a female officer who poked her head in. “‘Scuse me, Butch,” she quickly blurted. “There’s an emergency phone call for you on two.” She finished with a slap on the doorframe before disappearing.

  Butch picked up the receiver and was ready to press the flashing red light when he noticed Danny watching him with hurt in his eyes. “What?” he asked.

  Danny noticed Butch standing at the end of the hallway speaking with Chester’s doctor. The two men were silhouetted against the large window overlooking the side lawn of the hospital. Although he didn’t know specifically what was being said, he could tell by the shaking of the doctor’s head and Butch’s folded arms that it wasn’t good news. As he sat outside Chester’s room, Danny watched the doctor reach up and pat Butch’s shoulder, then turn to enter the stairwell. Butch faced the window, bowed his head, and leaned onto the windowsill. Moments passed before he straightened himself and began walking slowly toward Danny.

  “How’s he doin’?” Danny asked softly as he rose to meet his dear friend. He could see the pain in his eyes.

  “Pancreatic cancer,” Butch stated with a crack in his voice. “Advanced stage. Got five, maybe six weeks. Doc thinks that he pro’bly knew he was sick and was trying to hide it. Didn’t want anyone to know or…maybe didn’t have the money to do anything about it.” He turned away from Danny and wiped his eyes, sniffing deeply as he exclaimed, “This is all my fault!”

  “Your fault?” Danny asked, confused. “How’s this your fault?”

  “If I hadn’t o’ left…I coulda been there to get him help! I woulda known.”

  “Don’t do that to yourself!” Danny said sympathetically. “How can you blame yourself? This isn’t your fault. People die. Your daddy, like my daddy, will die. And I’m sorry—so sorry for this—but it’s not your fault.”

  Butch nodded in agreement but was still not convinced. “Did, uh…did you know this?” he solemnly asked, pausing a bit. “How? When? Is that why you went and found him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Butch growled, throwing his hands in the air in disbelief. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Well,” Danny explained, “at the time you thought I was full of crap, and if I had it wouldn’t have changed his being sick.” They briefly stared at each other before he continued. “If I had told you, told you right then what was going to happen, you would have probably treated him just as a responsibility—a ‘have to.’ All of a sudden, ‘Here I am, outta nowhere’ and ‘take care of me’!” Danny let his words sink in for a spell before closing his defense. “He wouldn’t have been your friend. He would have been just an old, sick guy who you were gonna stay angry at and to be tolerated for a while. I don’t’ know, maybe you woulda just found some way of putting him in a home or assisted care, euthanizing him.”

  “You think I’d have my own daddy put to sleep?” Butch said angrily, cocking his head to the side.

  “Well, it really didn’t seem to matter much to you a year ago whether he was alive or not,” Danny jabbed smartly. “Not a whole lot of reaching out on your part.”

  Butch rubbed his face and irritatingly asked, “What’s that?” He pointed to a book in Danny’s hand.

  “What? This?” Danny said with a light and informative tone. “This is the book my daddy used to read to me. Thought you might be able to use it now. It’s called The Men Who Wore the Star.”

  Butch took the book from Danny and opened the old and faded hardcover to look at the table of contents.

  “It’s stories about the Texas Rangers ’n, I figured, we’re in Texas, you’re a Texas Ranger, so…just a little sump’n to pass the time.” Danny placed his hand on Butch’s shoulder and gently offered, “If ya need me, you call me.”

  The two men hugged tightly as Butch painfully whispered, “I’m losing him again!”

  “Hey, c’mon now! You can’t let him see you like this. That’ll just get him down.”

  Butch broke the embrace, wiped his eyes, and drew a deep breath.

  “Give him our best,” Danny said and turned to walk away. “Call me later!” he hollered from down the hall, walking backward.

  Butch straightened his shirt and rolled his shoulders in preparation for what lay on the other side of the wall. He gingerly pushed open the heavy and wide wooden door. The beige full-length blinds were drawn shut, making the room seem not at all friendly and lacking hope. He approached the side of the bed and drew up an armchair from the wall. Reaching out to tenderly stroke his father’s hand, he felt his thin, soft, and wrinkled skin. Chester’s eyes fluttered open. He laid motionless, looking at the ceiling before turning his head.

  “You’re a sight to wake up to!” Chester said, his voice cracking, and smiled. “How long you been here?”

  “Few seconds… How ya doin’?”

  “Oh, you know me. I’m a fighter,” Chester bragged with a smirk. “Just knocked down a bit, that’s all. I’ll be up and outta here in a couple days.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see how you’re doin’, Ali.”

  “Whatchya got there?” Chester asked, glancing down at the book clutched in Butch’s hand.

  Like Danny earlier, Butch also changed the inflection in his voice. “This is the book that Tommy Albright used to read to Danny when he was a little boy, and Danny thought we both might like i
t.”

  “That’s nice of him! What’s it about?” Chester inquired, tilting his head to see the title. “Ah! Cowboys and Indians!”

  “Ya interested?”

  “Sure, sure!” Chester answered, raising himself to lean against the headboard.

  Butch pulled the drawstring on the blinds to let in more light. The late-afternoon sun flooded the room, lightening the mood. “Well, lessee now, The Men Who Wore the Star,” Butch said, donning his glasses.

  “You remember me readin’ to ya?” Chester asked.

  “No…no. I don’ think I do,” Butch admitted after trying to recollect just such a time.

  “You were jus’ a little thin’! Yeah! You’z four or five. Be time for bed an’ you’d be playin’ sick and you’d tell one o’ us you had a headache.” Butch laughed at the idea of himself, which made Chester laugh. “I’d ask you where it wuz that you hurt an’ you’d rub your belly an’ holler, ‘Oh! My haidache! My haidache!’”

  Butch placed his hands on his face, shaking his head as he envisioned the scene.

  “‘N you’d stick out your lip a little and say, ‘I think I’d feel better if you’d read to me.’ Ha! You knew how to work it even back then!” Chester complimented with another full belly of a laugh.

  “I was pretty clever, huh!”

  The laughs subsided as Chester peered up at the ceiling, “Yeah! That was probl’y ’bout one o’ the last times I ever got to pick you up n’ hold you.”

  Butch looked away in silent contemplation then removed his glasses and lowered the rails on the bed. He gently climbed onto the bed and laid his head on his father’s chest. Chester closed his eyes in peaceful bliss as he wrapped his arm around his son, curling a hand up to rub his head. Butch felt his own heart racing as he listened to the slow and faint beats of his father’s heart, looking at the picture of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall at the end of the bed.