Riven (65 page)

It was all he could do to breathe. Everything in his system fought for relief and labored to keep him alive, yet he was drifting, drifting. He had to exhale but didn’t know if he had the strength.

For more than two of the worst hours of Thomas’s life, he sat transfixed, tears streaming, as Brady continued to thrash just enough to exhale every few seconds. It seemed the young man would die any moment, and yet he lingered, writhing. Thomas was aware of spectators who rose and left, clearly having not been prepared for such a lengthy ordeal.

God, please,
Thomas said silently.
He’s obeyed You. Take him.

Brady fought to pull himself up one last time, and as he exhaled, he forced himself to speak once more the words of Jesus.

“Father, I entrust my spirit into Your hands!”

Thomas stood as Brady’s chest heaved, his limbs twitched, and suddenly he was still.

“Doc!” the executioner called out.

The doctor slipped in and slid Thomas’s chair to the foot of the cross, mounted it, and pressed his stethoscope to Brady’s chest. He pronounced him dead, marking the time.

Thomas had seen enough. He had honored Brady’s request and learned the hardest way possible what Jesus had endured on his behalf.

Thomas hurried away, out of the chamber, down the long corridors, through the security envelopes, past the cellblocks and pods. All were as silent as he had ever heard them.

In every cell, at every security checkpoint, and even in every office in the administration wing, TVs showed the closed-circuit feed to sober, somber eyes. No one spoke or even acknowledged Thomas as he gathered up his stuff and headed out to his car.

The officer at the guardhouse waved him through, and he drove past the media and the protesters—now on their knees, cupping candles incongruously flickering in the midday sun.

Fortunately for Thomas, hardly any other cars were on the road. At home he found Gladys sitting next to Grace’s bed, holding his wife’s hand as they silently watched the wrap-up of the televised coverage.

Dirk and Ravinia sat on Thomas’s bed, ashen faced.

Thomas sat next to his daughter and draped an arm around her shoulder. She was shivering. Suddenly she let her head fall to her father’s chest and buried her face in him as she sobbed.

After several minutes she pulled away, wiping her face. “I’m going to go,” she managed. “I need to be with Summer.”

“I need to be with you both,” Dirk said softly.

“Well, come on, then,” she said.

They each embraced Grace, and Thomas followed them to the front door and watched as they walked to their respective cars. Dirk put a tentative hand on Rav’s shoulder. She slipped a hand around his waist.

Before they parted, they stopped and held each other.

Epilogue

Not since 9/11 had churches been so full, and this time the phenomenon circled the globe. Every ministry Thomas knew of reported record inquiries and changed lives. Thomas himself had been busy since the little revival started on death row months before, but even that was nothing compared to now. He even had to talk with Warden LeRoy about hiring help. Requests for visits and New Testaments and books poured into his office.

Four days after Brady Wayne Darby was crucified, his autopsy became part of the public record, and he was buried in a quickly fashioned one-grave cemetery at Adamsville State Penitentiary, per the agreement with ICN. No press was allowed.

Thomas officiated the brief, very private ceremony, attended by fewer than twenty people. Besides a few state officials, the group consisted of the warden, the warden’s secretary and her husband, Brady’s aunt and uncle, his mother, his lawyer, her husband, and the chaplain’s wife.

Grace was bundled head to toe despite the heat and sat in a wheelchair. Thomas knew it was likely her last venture outside their home. But she had insisted on attending, and he would not deny her.

After Thomas spoke and the casket was lowered, Gladys sang “Rock of Ages,” which had been Grace’s suggestion. Most hummed along, but Thomas noticed that Ravinia joined in, full voice.

As they were leaving, Brady’s aunt Lois confided to Thomas that Erlene Darby had agreed to move in with her and Carl, “just for a few months until she can get back on her feet. We’re going to get her to church somehow.”

Dirk and Ravinia were back in counseling and talking about his moving back home again.

Four months later, many of the same contingent joined the congregation at Village Church for Grace Carey’s funeral. And, acceding to his beloved’s last request, Thomas asked Gladys to sing the same hymn again.

Rock of ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee;

Let the water and the blood,

From Thy riven side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Save from wrath and make me pure.

Not the labors of my hands

Can fulfill Thy law’s demands;

Could my zeal no respite know,

Could my tears forever flow,

All for sin could not atone;

Thou must save, and Thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring.

Simply to Thy cross I cling;

Naked, come to Thee for dress;

Helpless, look to Thee for grace;

Foul, I to the fountain fly;

Wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath,

When my eyelids close in death,

When I soar to worlds unknown,

See Thee on Thy judgment throne,

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in Thee.

Again Ravinia joined in the singing, and as she and Dirk and Summer rode with Thomas to the cemetery, she reached for her father’s hand.

“I want to come home,” she said.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” he said.

“No, I mean home to church. Will you save me a seat?”

Christ

Yesterday, Today, Forever

Praise for
Riven

“Thoroughly moving,
Riven
leaves an indelible impression on the reader. Its characters and message stay with you long after the final chapter. For me, it is also a deeply personal reminder of why God called me to prison ministry so many years ago.”

Chuck Colson, founder, Prison Fellowship

“Jerry Jenkins sets the standard for creative stories and compelling novels. Any bookshelf that is lacking his writing is missing a treasure.”

Max Lucado, pastor and best-selling author

“Jerry Jenkins writes from his heart a unique and engaging story.
Riven
is touching and unforgettable.”

Randy Alcorn, best-selling author of
Heaven

“This novel will stay with you long after the final page.
Riven
’s complex characters will keep you riding an emotional wave until you are washed ashore in an astonishing conclusion. Read
Riven
at your own risk. It might unsettle the way you live.”

Dr. Michael and Cindy Easley
Dr. Easley is president of the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago

“Some books are fun to read; other books testify to real life transformation.
Riven
does both. You’ll recognize yourself in the characters—the weary man of God, the rebel without cause, the searching
20-something. Find in their stories the place where real life begins—on level ground at the foot of the cross. Jenkins gives hope to anyone thinking that they’ve run too far from God.
Riven
pictures God’s relentless pursuit of each of us.
Riven
is a testimony to God’s power to transform any and every repentant person.”

James MacDonald, pastor and Bible teacher,
Walk in the Word