On Every Side (38 page)

Jordan sighed and gazed at a passing cloud. “I don't know
Something in your eyes. A glow or a warmth I can't really explain. I saw the same thing in the eyes of this teacher I came up against in court…and in Faiths eyes. It's what I remember seeing in Mom's eyes.” He looked back at her and Heidi ached for him. “Am I right?”

She slid an arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder like she'd done when she was little. “You are. I love God, I've never stopped. And deep inside, you haven't either.” She paused. “Sometimes our walk with the Lord gets a little confusing, that's all.”

Jordan uttered what sounded like a frustrated sigh, and Heidi felt his shoulder tense beneath her. “We have a lot to catch up on, Heidi. The whole religion thing isn't…I don't want to talk about it.”

His reaction shook Heidi.
Lord, he's as bad off as Faith said. Maybe worse.
“Okay, fair enough. Let's catch up, then.” She asked him about the accident at camp, his school days in New Jersey, and what it was like to play collegiate baseball. She even asked about his position at the HOUR organization. It broke her heart to imagine him sold out to a firm that was so obviously against the very beliefs the country was founded on, but she was careful not to share her feelings with Jordan. That was God's territory, not hers.

All she wanted to do was let him know he was loved— regardless of his opinions.

They were an hour into the conversation when she pulled an envelope from her pocket and held it out to Jordan. She noticed how time had yellowed it and made the creases sharp and pro-nounced, but the letter was still safely inside. Just as it had been that long-ago day. Scribbled across the front in their mother's handwriting was a single word:
Jordan.

Heidi felt the tears again. “Here…it's for you.” In all her life
she hadn't imagined she'd get the chance to do this. But now that they were together, she wasn't about to wait another minute.

He looked at it. “What is it?”

“A letter. From Mom.”

Jordan took it from her slowly, as though it were made of gold dust. For a long time he stared at the envelope, running his fin-ger over his name. Then his eyes rose to meet Heidi's. As he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “How'd you get it?”

The answer was bound to make Jordan sad. After all, he'd never had a chance to come back to the house for any reason.” My social worker said I could go through my things and save what I wanted.” Heidi paused, remembering the moment. “I checked my bedroom, and he went into Mom's room. He looked through the drawers and stuff. The letters were in her nightstand. Right on top. I always thought about opening yours, but I…”

He looked at her, his eyes wet again, too. “You what?”

She blinked and stared at her hands. “I guess a part of me always hoped I might find you again. Even after they told me you were dead.”

Jordan drew her close and hugged her for a long time. When he pulled back he stared at the envelope and then at her. “You got one too?”

She sniffed once and nodded. “I've read it so often the folds are starting to wear out.”

Jordan's eyes were flooded by what looked like an ocean of grief as he tucked the letter into his back pocket. “Thanks, Heidi.” His voice was tender, his eyes even more so.

They heard someone approaching from behind. Heidi turned and saw Charles, his eyes full of questions. She nodded toward him, assuring him it was all right to come closer. He had told her that morning he might stop by sometime around two if they were still at the park.

Now here he was, and Heidi felt happy enough to float. She climbed down to meet him, hugging him and leading him by the hand to meet Jordan. Then she looked into her brother's eyes and spoke the words she'd only dreamed of speaking. “Jordan, this is my husband, Charles. Charles, my brother, Jordan.”

The men shook hands, and Charles grinned. “You look pretty good for a dead guy.”

All three of them laughed, and what little tension had existed dissipated like morning dew on a summer sidewalk.

They made small talk for a few minutes before Charles's beeper went off. He glanced at it. “Looks like my time's up.” He reached for Jordan's hand again and for a brief instant caught Heidi's eye. “Listen, we'd love to have you come for Thanksgiving dinner if you can make it.”

Even after all the years that had passed, Heidi knew Jordan well enough to know he was choked up. Too much so to speak. Instead he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes focused at some-thing on the ground.

Fresh tears nipped at Heidi's eyes and she slid an arm around both of them. “What he's trying to say is, ‘Yes, thanks, I'd love to come.’”

Jordan looked up and shifted his gaze from Charles to Heidi and back to Charles again. “She's right.” He grinned, though his eyes glistened with tears. “That's exactly what I'm trying to say.”

J
oshua Nunn turned in early that night and almost immedi-ately slipped into the strangest dream. He was in front of a crowd of supporters at Jericho Park, and everyone had an instrument of some kind. “We are here to represent God's people,” he heard himself say. Then all at once instruments appeared in everyone's hands and they began to play. The sound was more beautiful than a hundred concert choirs, and not only that but someone was singing. Joshua gazed into the sky and saw hun-dreds of golden men circling above the park—-just like the one who'd appeared to him that day in his office.

A voice boomed from the heavens, and Joshua fell to the ground. “See, Joshua, I have delivered Jericho Park into your hands…” The words faded, absorbed by the music of the people, who were now forming a line and looking to Joshua.
What do I tell them, Lord? I don't have the words.

This time the voice was silent, echoing loudly within the chambers of his heart.
Be strong and courageous, Joshua. I will go before you. Tell the people to march around the walls.

Joshua opened his mouth to give the command, but the people were already making their way around the perimeter of the park, playing music as they went.

“Can we shout?” a man yelled from the back of the line.

“Yeah, can we shout yet? Tell us when…”

“We want to shout…”

The voices grew into a chorus of grumbling that silenced the music. Joshua raised his hand high in the air. A surreal silence came over the park, and Joshua looked from person to person,
realizing for the first time that he could see into their hearts… the condition of their souls.

“Do not give a war cry, do not raise your voices, do not say a word until the day I tell you to shout.” Joshua smiled, for the hearts of the people were good. “Then… shout!”

The music resumed and the people began marching, only instead of their moving around the park, the park and its walled-up statue seemed to be revolving beneath them. At the end of one full rotation the sun disappeared and heaven's golden men shone like stars in the sky. Just as quickly, the sun returned and the people set out around the park again. This happened six times. On the seventh rotation, the sun remained in the sky and the people marched around the park seven times.

“Wait a minute, this isn't right.” Joshua yelled out the words, but no one was listening. “This is the story of Joshua in the Bible. Stop! Can't you hear me? Stop! We need real answers here, not a bunch of people marching in place!”

Joshua's hands and legs trembled and suddenly he was falling to his knees, about to cry out to God for help, when there was the loudest, most convincing sound Joshua had ever heard.

Immediately his eyes flew open and he sat straight up in bed. Beside him, Helen stirred and looked at him, eyes blinking. “What was that?”

He stared at the room around him, but it took several beats of his heart before any of it looked familiar. He shot a glance at the alarm clock—it was only 11:30. “I don't know. A dream, I guess…”

Helen snuggled up against her pillow.” That's strange—” she yawned— “I thought I heard something.”

Joshua's hands felt clammy, and he shifted his attention to his wife. “Like what?”

She was already drifting back to sleep.” I don't know, some-thing loud. Almost like a shout.”

His blood couldn't have felt any colder if he'd been standing in a freezer. Slowly, he settled back into bed and lay there, his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
What's going on, Lord? What are You trying to tell me?

But all he received in response was an image that seared its way into his consciousness, keeping him focused and denying him any sleep whatsoever.

The image of plywood walls falling to the ground.

Jordan pulled his car up along the side of Jericho Park at 11:31 that evening and stared into the darkness, allowing his eyes time to adjust. He'd stayed with Heidi and her husband until ten min-utes ago, and now he needed a quiet place to think. As driven as he'd been that ill-fated winter when his mother lay dying years earlier, Jordan felt compelled to find his way to Jericho Park.

Especially in light of the task that lay ahead.

He fingered the fragile envelope in his hand and reached up to flip on the car's dome light. All that had happened that day was overwhelming, almost more than he could bear. His sister had found him, and in one afternoon they'd recaptured the closeness they'd shared as kids. He'd found Faith, too…and despite his determination to see walls around the Jesus statue, she'd been nothing but kind and loyal to the memory of their friendship.

And now this.

A letter from his mother, words straight from her hand intended for his heart alone. Jordan felt himself tense at the thought of opening the letter and he searched himself, trying to understand his reluctance. Was it because of her beliefs? Because he'd turned his back on the One who had mattered so desper-ately to her? Was that why his hand trembled now?

He gritted his teeth and slid his finger carefully under the flap. The paper inside was pressed thin from years of being unread, and Jordan pulled it out slowly, careful not to rip it. As he opened the folds he thought he caught a faint whiff of his mother's perfume, and his hands fell to his lap. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back. Not to the days when his mother lay wasting away in her bedroom, but before that…

Back when she would put on a baseball cap, sweatshirt, and jeans and play catch with him in the front yard… or sit behind home plate at his games, flashing a thumbs-up whenever he had a good hit. Back when she and Heidi would do hand-claps on the front porch, their sing-song voices ringing out while Jordan and his friends played ball in the street. Happy days, memories that almost seemed to belong to someone else entirely Times when going to church and loving God Almighty made perfect sense.

The fragrance of her perfume faded. It was getting late, and the temperature in his car was dropping. He tenderly lifted the paper, as though it were his mother's hand in his and not her penned words, and in the brightness of the car light held the let-ter up and began reading.

Dear Jordan…

He could hear her voice, see her face again—and he missed her more than he thought possible. Tears came, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to break down. He could do this—he could read the letter and allow himself to feel her loss as he hadn't done in years. From somewhere deep in his soul he found the strength. Clenching his jaw he drew a steadying breath through his nose and opened his eyes once more.

Dearjordan,

As I write this I already know what will happen. God, my eternal Father and yours, is calling me home. I've prayed otherwise, asked
God to let me stay with you, but He's made it clear to me that
—
jor whatever reason
—
it's time. I want you to know I'm not afraid to die. I know this will sound strange to you, hut I'm actually excited. I've been doing some reading on heaven lately and I understand it as well as I will this side of eternity Here
—
this place we call earth
—
is not our home, Jordan. It's a waiting room, really. The place where we live together until we're called into the grand palace
—
the place where real life will begin. Our forever home.

And so my fears are not for myself.

Rather they are for you and Heidi. You are young, Jordan, and though you love God now, I fear deeply that you will change your mind. Life as you know it is about to change, and the world will want you to blame our loving God. But Jordan, it's not His fault death and disease reign here in the shadows. He's not the cause of bad things. In reality, He's the only way out… the only life rope, the only path from the darkness to eternal light.

The only way home.

Jordan blinked, and what felt like a bucket of tears fell down his cheeks. When his vision was clear again he continued.

You see, Jordan, I love you and Heidi so much that I've asked God for something very special. If He wants me to be with Him now, fine. I'm comfortable with that. But I feel in my heart He's promised me this: You and Heidi will live a life of faith. You might stray from Him at first, but eventually… in His perfect timing… you will come back. And one day we will be together again in Paradise.

By the way, I want to say a word about Faith Moses. Her family has been wonderful to us, Jordan. In ways you could not possibly know or understand. If you were older I'd explain in detail how we might not have had food and electricity if it hadn't been for them. As for Faith, I know the two of you care about each other and that you're young. But if… just if you should choose to marry her one day please know this, son: Somewhere up in heaven I'll be giving you the happiest thumbs-up ever.
I'm tired and I need to get some sleep, but I wanted you to know my heart I may stop breathing, Jordan, but I'll never stop praying for you and Heidi Begging God that no matter where you journey from here, you'll find your way home again. Because when you do…Yll be there, waiting with open arms. I love you more than you know… Mom.

The sorrow that welled inside Jordan was so great it was as though someone was standing on his chest. His hands trembled as he read the note again, and finally a third time. His mother had known all along…