Good Courage ~ Part II

'Yet, if I speak, my pain is not relieved 

and if I refrain, it does not go away.'

~Job 16:6~

          “Kate?” Bran called after his second bell ring. He had texted her, so she knew they’d be bringing dinner. Paula had opted out of the ice cream, so they had picked up Cajun, Kate’s favorite. Bran didn’t do take-out on weeknights (even Fridays), but he’d made an exception. They had been at the precinct longer then anticipated, just barely missing the six ‘o’clock gridlock to reach Kate’s apartment in Hempstead. They would be here awhile before any of the traffic eased up, but that was the routine the three of them had fallen into- some dinners were at Kate’s, the others were at Bran’s place at Melrose.

            “It’s getting cold!” Paula hollered through the door. Another few seconds and the deadbolts came undone. Bran’s mood lifted at Kate’s chestnut hair, crazy and curly in a bun. She opened the door, smiling and zipping her jacket over her bright green top. She’d been working out; that translated to a stressful day for everyone.

            “Hi, sweet stuff.” Bran leaned in and stole a kiss before presenting the food.

            “Hi, Aunt Kate.” Paula darted between them for the kitchen.

            “Back at you, Speed Racer.” Kate called after her. Her eyes, dark and blue and gorgeous, went back to Bran. Like her kiss, they were being distant. Bran rustled his take-out bags awkwardly. “You get my messages?”

            Kate closed the door and rubbed her arms up and down. “I got a lot of messages today. From you… from Magnus.”

            “Wh-“ Bran stopped before he walked into the kitchen. He turned his back so as not to catch Paula’s attention. “What’re you talking about?”

            Kate already had her phone out and her voicemail on. “Hello, Kate. Thought I’d lost you there for while. Make sure Bran knows that my offer is still good.”

            Bran had to lean a shoulder on the wall to hold himself together. “You had your number changed.”

            “Yes, I did.” Kate stated, her voice tight. “But what’s that to a mob hit man.”

Kate beeped it off, then scrolled to her photos. She showed him three that had a dead rat in them. Bran didn’t want to ask.

            “On the floor of my passenger seat.” Kate rubbed the corner of her phone to her temple. “Wanna guess who put it there?”

            No wonder she had been working out. Bran prayed for his thoughts to slow down enough to look his fiancé over. “You’re okay, right?”

            Kate’s eyes narrowed. “Okay? Really Bran?”

            Okay. Bran handed her her meal and walked with her into the kitchen. Kate went over to the sink while Bran tapped Paula’s shoulder as she ate at the table. “How about you try some TV with that?”

            Paula looked at him through a bite of spiced pork. “I’m twelve, not two. I’m not going to have nightmares if you talk about it in front of me.”

            Bran had to smile at her as he leaned down. “Do I ever keep you out of the loop?”

            Paula sighed, blowing up her blonde bangs dramatically. She gathered her carton and left the kitchen for the living room. Bran sent her off with a high-five; his way of encouraging them both. When we sit and when we stand… I hope she sees it all, Lord.

            Paula was no stranger to his faith, nor that of her grandparents. But when Bran gained custody of her, she learned quick that God was an all day, every day thing… not just Christmas and Easter. So far, she had been a tough customer on the idea.  Right now though, Bran couldn’t blame her.

            Once the canned drone of a sitcom could be heard, Kate opened her bag of food, only to stare at its contents. “You- have any idea how scared I was?”

            Bran came up behind her and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

            “No, you were busy keeping Paula and yourself safe.” Kate pushed his hands down and opened her cartons. Bran was taken aback by the pain in her voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what more I can say.”

            “I’m not angry with you for not being there.” Kate turned, her eyes searching his face. “I went to the police station, filed a report. One of the many… many…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Bran. You said that this would all go away.”

            “I know.” Bran wrecked his brain for more encouraging words then that. Kate threw her arms out, like she couldn’t figure out what else to do. “We postponed our wedding so Paula could get adjusted-“

            “What else was I supposed to do?” Bran lowered his voice. “My brother was dead and she needed me. I needed to figure out how to be a father.”

“And then we needed to wait for the settlement to come through,” Kate breathed heavier, fighting tears. “And now, these threats-“

Bran moved toward her, but Kate held a hand up to stop him. “It gets worse with each month, Bran.” She closed her eyes, but he could still see the struggle across her face. “Where does it end? With whoever’s dead first?”

“Hey!” Bran grabbed her hand, eyes reminding her that Paula might hear. She had already been through so much- watching her father spiral out of control from drug addiction, seeing him keep the books for the Irish mob… he had always wanted to create something apart from all that for her. He believed his marriage to Kate would help with that. They both loved her. But something had kept getting in the way…

“I called Detective Lument.” Bran told her. “A warrant has been issued for Magnus’ arrest-“

Kate shook her head. “One of his connections will post his bail, say he was them, and you know he’s going to retaliate. That could be what he wanted all along, an excuse to come after you.”

Bran rubbed his eyes, She could be right. He didn’t know why Magnus didn’t leave them alone; nothing could be proven about Simon’s death. Paula- thank God- hadn’t witnessed it, any evidence the prosecutor had brought forth was circumstantial. Yet Magnus’ offer of a settlement before the judge had said enough. He’d made a snide comment about Paula’s college fund when handing the check over.

“It’s not your fault.” Kate’s fingers worked around her engagement ring, back and forth out of the lighting. “Bran, you need to know that I know that. But… I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What?”

“I can’t,” Kate moved the ring up her finger. “I can’t keep up this stance of praying and believing that God’s going to work it all out.”

Bran’s ears were burning, eyes on the ring. “He will. Kate-“

She slid the ring off completely, tears falling down her cheeks. “I admire that you can say that. But I can’t.”

What was happening?

“You don’t have to say it.” Bran throat thickened. “I’ll believe it for us both.”

“It’s more then believing, Bran.” Kate shrugged helplessly. “I should have been planning my wedding a year ago; I should be planning it now! Instead, I’m having to be wary of people trying to kill me!”

“They won’t.” Bran pushed the ring back to her, flashing back to the night he had knelt, asked her to marry him. And her smile as she’d said yes. She said yes, Lord! She wouldn’t have said that if she didn’t mean it!

“You don’t know that.” Kate shook her head, still holding the ring.. “Bran, I want to get married- have kids and work here in the city-“

“And retire to Louisiana.” Bran finished, grabbing her arms. “Kate, we’re going to do that! God’s going to pull us through and once we’re on the other side of this…”

He left the sentence open, unable to speak of all the dreams they’d talked about, that he’d imagined when laying awake at night. She couldn’t be saying this, not after all the court dates she’d held his hand through. Not with what she meant to Paula. She wasn’t the type of person to walk away from that.

“I’m sorry,” Kate managed to break free and close his fingers over the engagement ring. “You don’t deserve this, but we’ve always been honest-“

“Kate… please.” Bran just stared at his hand, not comprehending. “We love each other, we can get through this.”

He needed to give her something, tell her something concrete- Words, Lord! I need words!

But none were coming to him. Kate covered her hand over his, wiping at her eyes with the other. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to hurt you.”

Hurt? Try devastate! Bran backed up, his breathing short and the kitchen spinning.  Why are You doing this, God? Hasn’t enough been ripped away from us? From me?

How was he going to tell Paula? It wasn’t even getting through to himself.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

            “Can’t believe I ever called her Aunt Kate!” Paula slammed the door- almost on Bran’s back. He doubted he would’ve felt it.

            “Go easy.”  He cautioned, his brain on autopilot. He needed to get Paula through homework, bath, and bed. Then his emotions could take over. He locked the door and walked into the apartment. Paula followed. “Aren’t you even mad, Uncle Bran?”

            “Paula,” Bran blew his breath out slowly. “Not tonight. We just need to get to tomorrow. I’ll be thinking more clearly then. Start your homework.”

            “It’s Friday.” Paula reminded him, dumping her backpack in the closet.

            Bran nodded. “Right.”

            He walked into the living room with his briefcase and coat, trying not to linger on any one object. He had expected Kate to be his wife and moved in by the new year. How many times had they snuggled on the couch, thrown decorating ideas around?

            She wanted to have kids with me. Kids with my chin and her hair.

            He started as Paula wrapped her arms around his waist. “You can pick the movie tonight.”

            “Sounds good.” Bran said, hardly caring. But he would welcome the distraction.

After they changed into sweats and jammies, Bran popped in Jurassic Park. The phone rang, he didn’t answer it, and neither of them suggested popcorn. Bran just watched the dinosaurs eat everything, the characters talk about nothing, and Paula’s odd laugh at the lawyer’s death. Toward the scene with the brontosauruses, Paula scooted over and laid her head on Bran’s lap. Something she hadn’t done since she was eight and had stayed for a week over Christmas. That was the only time that Bran and his parents had been guaranteed to see her. Simon would show up every Christmas, or one summer day or on a wet March weekend… whenever his money had gotten too low.

“I’m sorry that Kate doesn’t want to get married.” Paula offered over the noise of the movie. Bran let out his breath slowly. “It’s not that simple.”

The movie played out for another minute or two. Then Paula shifted, finding Bran’s hand. “I wanted you as my dad. When Dad took me to those crack houses… I still smell the rooms sometimes.”

            Bran put an arm over his niece, an old anger at his brother rising. Their childhood had been wrestling matches and pranks in Sunday school. Good at math and sports, they had had the grades to get into college. But then, Simon got Paula’s mother pregnant- the same year that Bran had met Donna, his first wife. He married her when Paula was three, when her mother had had her first relapse with cocaine. Bran couldn’t say when she got Simon into drugs; or rather the people who distributed them. But it was early enough for Paula to know about and see it. The world that her mother had disappeared into… and the one Simon kept returning to.

            “If I closed my eyes,” Paula watched the screen, but her fingers squeezed Bran’s hand like a stress ball. “I pretended that you and Donna were my parents.” Her voice went lower. “That Zach was my brother.”

            Seven years and that name could still steal his breath. Bran swallowed. “You shouldn’t have had to feel that way.”

            But there were lots of things that they shouldn’t have had to feel. Bran shouldn’t have had to feel the loss of his wife and son in childbirth. His parents shouldn’t have to bear the murder of their own son. Nor fear for the stalking of their other son and granddaughter.

            “Does that make me bad?” Paula asked hesitantly.

Bran pulled her closer. “No, it makes you human; a kid. Exactly what you need to be.”

            Bran tilted his head back, like it might relieve the tension twisting his chest. Lord, give me something here. The pit’s opening again and I’d like to fall into it right now.

            Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

            Joshua. Ok, that was something. It was small, but the person who had spoken it, wasn’t. Bran repeated the verse to himself- among others- until the credits rolled and Paula was asleep. Bran picked her up, giving her an extra tuck as he put her to bed. He held onto what courage was left until he closed his own bedroom door. Then he sagged against it and cried.

~To Be Continued~

Good Courage ~ Part I

‘And so we know and relay on the love God had for us…

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made in perfect in love.’

~1 John 4:16;18~

The first thing Bran noticed was the duffel bag. It didn’t stick out of the common crowd milling on up and down Courtlandt Avenue. School had let out across the city and everyone was out for their afternoon buzz. It was the first day of March and at last there wasn’t a winter chill in the air. Bran had been thinking an ice cream run for him and Paula. She walked before behind him, head bent over her phone, conversing with the friends she had just left in the schoolyard. Bran would normally harp on his niece about the redundancy of this. Now however, he was glad to have it distracting her from the two men hounding his car.

“Paula,” Bran turned, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Hang tight a minute.”

Paula looked up, brows angled at him. “Uncle Bran-“

“Stay.” Bran told her and continued the few yards to his car. He sized up the two men waiting there; sharing a cigarette like it was a typical Tuesday. Only today was Friday.

“Get off my car.” Bran snapped at the younger one leaning on the hood. He hadn’t seen him before; the other one, he had seen plenty. Magnus- yes, that was a name. It was Irish and misleading in its refinery. He had had to face off with this man since October… even after Bran had issued the restraining order. He was here and, as before, he had the duffel bag with him.  

“That’s a poor way to greet an old friend.” Magnus’ smile stayed pristine on his pouty, Jimmy Stewart lips. He extended the duffel out to Bran. “Especially when they’re dropping off a present.”

Bran shoved the bag away. He could feel the money inside and it burned his palm. “You’re violating our restraining order. Again.”

“Touchy.” Magnus’ pal snorted, taking another drag from the cigarette.

“Get out of here.” Bran narrowed his eyes at him. “There’s no reason for us to be within fifty yards of each other. Court’s over. We took the settlement.”

“We’re just making sure that it still satisfies.” Magnus kept the duffel between them. “You know how people get when they’re strapped for cash- they get desperate and stupid.”

Bran didn’t hinder eye contact with him. It was a battle of wills with this guy- and Magnus had been trying to push Bran back from the start. And Bran, as tired as he was, had yet to give him an inch. Thank God.

“We don’t want your money.” Bran remained aware of Magnus’ buddy, shuffling onto the sidewalk. Was he looking at Paula? “And I know you and your flunkie have more illegal things to do then bribe me.”

Magnus shrugged the shoulders of his suit, smug in his position between Bran and his car.  What was his problem? The police, their lawyer, had said it was all over when the judge had banged his gavel. New York was a big city; no reason for Bran, Paula, or his parents to see Magnus Healy- or associates- again. Yet, here he was.

“You discuss this with Kate?” Magnus placed his free hand in his pocket. “Maybe the amount would interest her…”

Bran’s cell phone was up and he spoke loud and clear so the 911 operator could hear him. “This’ Bran Robins, I’m on Courtlandt Avenue-“

Magnus and his buddy were already walking as the operator tried to get Bran to stop talking. He waited. “Bran Robins… No, there’s no immediate threat… can you ring Detective Lument’s desk, please.”

The operator, clearly annoyed, put him on hold. Bran shifted his position as Paula stepped up beside him. Her phone was down and her eyes followed the two to the corner.

One wish, Lord. Bran watched Paula’s oval features clench, her cheeks going red. That she didn’t have to know those kind of people existed.

Extortionists, drug traffickers, members of the Irish mob that still clung to the city of New York. That was the reality his niece was forced to live with, the company his ‘responsible’ older brother Simon had kept. Employing himself as Magnus' personal accountant had exposed Paula to the motivations of greed and power. Simon had cheated their own parents out of their savings so he could stay in their good graces- and his pockets padded with cocaine. The amount taken had been the settlement that the judge had decided on; with interest. This hadn't offered any closure to Simon's mysterious murder, but their lawyer had told Dad and Mom to take it. They had their money back, but not their son. And Bran had Paula; every day fighting to keep her out of the dismal colors of her past.

“I thought I was having a good day today.” Paula proved his point, watching a car pick the two men up on the corner. Bran found her hand, putting Paula’s brown eyes on him. “Don’t let people like that decide whether you had a good day or not.”

Paula nodded and Bran got them both into the car before Detective Lument answered. “44^th precinct-“

“Sam, it’s Bran Robins.” Bran got to the point, thrashing his seat belt on. “They violated the order again."

                                                         

                                                       ~To Be Continued~

Beside

'We run on up ahead, we lag behind you'

               That's a chorus lyric from Point of Grace's 1998 worship song 'Steady On'. It's one of the many songs that my sister and I were raised on in the back seat of our family's Chevrolet Blazer. I'll still recall learning to sing on those lyrics... though some wish I never had. Unlike the dashboard, I don't have an On/Off button!

               Even as a hard-hitting soprano, that one lyric from that one song always stuck in my head. Literally, are they running ahead of God or lagging behind Him? They can't do both! The oxymoron bugged me, even before I knew that such a word existed. 

               Twenty years later, the song still plays in our house. And yes, the lyric still jumps out at me. The meaning of the song has be come clear to me, making me consider Paul's word in Philippians 3...

'Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived 

at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus 

took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. 

But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, 

I press on toward the goal to win the prize 

for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.' (verse 12-14) 

Even so, I couldn't help seeing that pesky lyric in a different perspective. Many pastors phrase the Christian life as our walk with God. I take that literally- SHOCKER!- since God has no worries about the paths our lives are taking here on earth. Being Christian doesn't make this walk any easier on our part though; because we tend to make the classic mistakes.

1) We run ahead- we get impatient and try to make things happen before their time; a new job, a marriage, responsibility, you fill in the blank. We put our lives on a rush order... and what happens? It ends up costing us, whether physically, emotionally, finically... or all three. And we're left wishing that we had listened, waited.

2) We lag behind - we chose not to be motivated or to 'light the fire' underneath us. We don't challenge ourselves to rise up above the 'average' standard. In doing so, we miss out on the opportunities where we would have reached our full potential. The moments that God had planned just for you.

The only pace we need to be going at is the one that places us shoulder-to-shoulder with God. That's why it's called our walk WITH Him. We turn where He turns, slow down when He does. And when He gives us that encouraging nod, we sprint forward, neck and neck... and grinning all the way!

A Little Love Will Do ~ Part 2

          "What in the name of Wall Street is going on!?"

          "Mr. Dodgers." Valente recovered their surprise with an ever-persevering smile, but released Amanda's hand. Ken lifted Sabina out of her dip and she smoothed her hair and clothes, while Sheila stood awkwardly beside them. 
           "You home early, Mr. Dodgers; that is good." Valente straightened his appearance as well, his smile remaining. Some of its authenticity had disappeared though.

           "Daddy." Amanda ran forward gleefully, hugging their dad's waist. "We're having a party..."

          "I can see that." Dad glanced irritably about the kitchen. "I could hear it too, all the way out to the garage. I imagine the neighbors could hear it as well."

          His curtness repelled Amanda like a snake. Ken prayed for the good mood- his good mood- to stay in the room. It had been going better for him and his sisters then it had been for weeks.

          "Ice cream is on the menu for dessert, Mr. Dodgers," Sabina gestured hopefully to the counter. "If you please join us..."

          "This being my house, Sabina," Dad placed his briefcase on the island to emphasize the fact. "I doubt I need your permission to do one or the other."

          And timber! Ken groaned. Sheila stiffened, but Ken squeezed her shoulder before she could say anything. Sabina's face remained respectful as Valente came to stand beside her. "If you need nothing else, Mr. Dodgers, we be leaving."

          Amanda's face crumbled. "No!"

          "Good." Dad nodded. "I'll expect you back Monday morning."

          "Daddy." Amanda tugged on his belt. "Sabina's taking me to my violin lesson tomorrow..."

          "You take those with friends," Dad told her stalely. "One of their mothers can drive you."

          "But..."

          "Miss Amanda," Valente commanded her attention with ease. "You listen to your father, yes?"

          Dad's jaw clenched at Amanda's nod. Ken could see he didn't like the unintentional overrule, but he didn't say anything. As the CEO of a public relations firm, Dad was supposed to have the right words for any situation. But then, charm and wit hadn't exactly been dripping off of him lately.

          "Good night, then." Sabina spoke to Dad, but she turned and gazed at Ken, Amanda, and Shelia in turn, a loving glow in her eyes. Why couldn't that glow stay where it was needed? Where it was wanted?

         "You all have great weekend." Valente added as he and his wife moved past Amanda and Dad.

         "You too." Sheila called, giving a wave. Ken did the same. There were a couple moments of awkward silence; it wasn't until they heard the back door close that Dad cleared his throat. "Girls... have you had your baths?"

         "Seriously?" Sheila's eyes hardened. "Dad it's Friday, and it's not even eight..."

         "Bath time." Dad stated. "Go up and help your sister, Sheila."

         "She's seven, Dad."

         "Sheila," Dad drew out his breath in exasperation. "Just do as I say."

         Ken nudged Sheila forward. "Go on up, Sheila. We'll have ice cream afterwards."

         Sheila continued to glare at Dad as she grabbed Amanda's hand and left the kitchen. That left Ken with their dad. Ken took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this tonight, but it seemed like one of those divine opportunities that Sabina was always so keen on.

         "You shouldn't talk to her like that."

         Dad sighed. "Understand son, that Sheila needs a firm hand..."

         "I'm not talking about... well, I don't really agree with how you talked to Sheila either. But..." Ken huffed. "I was talking about Sabina."

         "Excuse me?" Dad's eyebrows lifted, showing his first true emotion of the evening.

         "All she did was invite you to the party." Ken shrugged. "To join in the fun. And she and Valente were watching us like you asked."

         "I could see that." Dad pocketed his right hand; his lecture pose. "And I could see you were all having a good time. That's mainly the problem, Ken. Valente and Sabina are wonderful people and they're been great looking after you and your sisters. That has been more of a help then I can express, but don't forget they are our cook and groundskeeper."

         Now it was Ken's eyebrows that lifted. "So?"

         "So," Dad inspected the ice cream toppings for a moment. "Our family has been privileged, Ken, in a higher society then most. With this society comes certain standards of behavior... and socialization. I thought you knew that."

         Ken was going swimmy-headed, unable to believe what he was hearing! Sure, he knew what society he'd been growing up in. One with high-nosed bankers and politicians who were obsessed with the things they owned, never taking the time to notice the people they had. Honestly, he acted like one of them at times. But Ken had always thought that his parents were above that. Mom definitely had been, reminding him and the girls about 'please' and 'thank you', about the importance of a person's smile and heart. And Dad... well, he didn't really know how Dad was nowadays. He had become little more then a workaholic since Mom had died in April. 
         Had it just been April? 

         "All I need to know." Ken told his dad, his tone evening out. "Is that Valente and Sabina are decent people, who have been decent to us. "

         Dad rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not saying that they're not good people, Ken..."

         "Then what are you saying, Dad?"

         "Things have been tough since..." Dad's throat jumped, but he didn't need to finish the sentence. Tough was an understatement. Amanda still asked why it was that Mom couldn't come back. Sheila had gone back and forth from acting out to being sullen and silent. Ken... he just focused on school, soccer, anything that stole his attention from Mom's absence at home. With Sabina and Valente though, their lives had moved up to manageable over the summer.

         "Regardless of what they're done," Dad was saying. "You shouldn't feel obligated to..."

         "What!" Ken about exploded. "Are you whacked! We haven't felt obligated about anything and neither have Valente or Sabina. It's not in their job description, but they've done it anyway."

         Dad stared at him blankly. "Done what?"

         "They've been around!" Ken felt the strain of the word in the veins of his neck. "They've been caring and coping with us while you've holed yourself up in your stupid office! Valente is always breathing down my neck about curfew. Sabina helps us with our homework, keeps us busy with chores or errands and both of them make sure that we have a ride wherever we go."

         "Son, that's all good and well..."

         "Better yet, they're making us laugh again." Ken almost smiled. "Valente's got Amanda laughing and Shelia's at least smiling. After the funeral, neither of them were stepping outside the house and I didn't even want to come home! But you didn't even take one second to notice, did you?"

         "Don't you put that on me." Dad pointed harshly at him. "You have no idea how hard this had been."

         "And it's your job to help us through it, right?" Ken countered. "As our last living parent? But I guess there are just too many meetings to squeeze us in."

         "We're done talking!" Dad cut his hand through the air. "And Sabina and Valente are done working for us."

         "No!" Ken gasped. 
         Dad shook his head. "All they're doing is causing more tension."

         "They're facing the problems you're choosing to ignore." Ken defended even while fear choked him. If they lost Valente and Sabina, they'd fall apart for sure. He couldn't let that happen to Sheila or Amanda! 
          Why couldn't he admit that he couldn't lost them either? Ken deliberately pushed past Dad and headed into the living room, making for the stairs.

         "Ken!" Dad called after him. "Kenneth! You don't talk to me like that and just..." He stopped short. "What are these?"

         He had seen the coffee table. Ken paused at the stairs. "Presents. From Valente and Sabina."

         "Presents for what?"

         Ken didn't look back as he climbed the stairs. "It's my birthday, Dad."

THE END

Are you showing your love to the right people today? Not just on Valentine's Day or their birthday or Christmas, but on those hectic days where they might need a reminder of how special they are. It doesn't take a present, a fancy dinner or any bells and whistles. An extra glance or kiss or hug will do just fine.

Spread the love! Today, tomorrow, and every day after!