'But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom,
and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it-
he will be blessed in what he does.'
~James 1:25~
"Bran, you need to sit-"
“I’ll sit when somebody starts doing
something.” Bran paced at the foot of his bed, knocking his fist on the corner
knobs every time he passed them. His knuckles were red and throbbing, but he
didn’t know what else to do with himself. He had brought Paula straight home
after officers took her statement and they hadn’t left since. Detective Lument
had issued a squad car to sit outside their apartment building. That knowledge
didn’t defuse the tension and fear that labored in Paula’s every move.
Supper had been cereal; there were maybe three bites between
the two of them. Paula was in bed, but her light was still on. What was she
thinking? Would he be able to send her to school tomorrow? Should he?
“Maybe Paula could come and stay
with us for awhile.” His dad suggested, his throaty voice even scratchier over
the phone. Bran shook his head. “She’s not missing school. Simon had her in and
out so much, she barely made it into sixth grade. And she loves learning…” He
reaffirmed his headshake. “They’re not taking away Paula’s education.”
“Put aside your pride for a moment
and think about what’s best for her.” Dad said.
How many times had he heard that
growing up? Simon had never had any pride and he had too much? A bunch of bull
in his opinion. Bran had had to pick himself up after burying his wife and son.
He had had to be strong for his parents as they watched Simon spiral out of
control. And he had adapted into the role of father, though he certainly hadn’t
been ready for it. Didn’t he deserve a little pride in himself after all that?
“Moving Paula’s not going to make
them go away.” Bran swung at the bed again, only to miss the knob. “These
people are not stopping, letting nothing get in their way. And I don’t know
why. Dad, I have no idea why-“
“Ok,” Dad stopped him. “Breathe,
Bran. Breathe.”
Breathe. When’s the last time he’d
been able to do that? Bran drew air in, but it didn’t calm or replenish him. His
chest felt ready to snap, exhausted from the tension of these past months. Bran
finally sat on his bed, head going into his free hand. “Dad… you gotta help me.
I’m losing my mind here.”
Dad sighed. “I’m sorry, son.”
“We lost Simon,” Bran pressed his
hand into his eyes, tired of the tears. “I lost Donna, now Kate… I don’t know
how much more I can stand.”
His father’s sigh acknowledged the break
in Bran’s voice. “I wish I had the power to take this from you.”
“I know.” Bran stared up at the
overhead light of his bedroom, letting the glare burn into his retinas. “I’m
trying not to falter here… I told Paula that God has this.”
There was a pause. “Did you tell her
that things would get better?”
“No,” Bran said. Should I have? “I only told her to trust
that God knows what He’s doing. Something I keep repeating to myself. And I
question whether I even believe what
I’m saying.”
“That’s nothing but an earworm from
the devil, as your mother would say.”
Bran snorted. “Mom makes Satan sound
more silly then sneaky.”
“If only.” Dad’s voice shuffled and
Bran heard something familiar; the rustling of Bible pages.
“’Strangers are attacking me; ruthless
men seek my life,’” Dad recited. “’Men without regard for God. Surely, God is
my help… I will praise your name O Lord, for it is good. For he has delivered
me from all my troubles, and my eyes will look with triumph on my foes.’.”
Bran didn’t answer at first,
grasping at the words. “What psalm is that?”
“Fifty-four.” Dad told him. “It’s
part of a section where David is pleading with God to save him from all his
oppressions.”
I’m
clearly David in this situation. Bran concluded, sniffing back his tears.
He had cried so many of them; they happened too often, but somehow, God used
the right words to pick him back up afterwards. He used his father for that.
But now, Bran truly felt that he was at his limit.
“I think it’s times like these where
we really have to look at the state of our faith,” Dad continued, breaking into
Bran’s depression. “And… I guarantee that Paula will start looking too.”
Was he suggesting a silver lining to
all this?
“Just remember something when you’re
telling her to trust.” Dad went on. “That it works both ways.”
“What?” Bran squinted away from the
bulb, watching purple and green spots under his lids.
“Trust.” Dad stated. “God trusts us.
He trusts you to use what He’s taught us. He’s in control, that’s for sure. But
it doesn’t mean He won’t use us at all.”
That thought sparked in Bran’s
brain. His dad, as usual, had a point. He had been focusing so hard on what he
couldn’t do. Maybe he needed to start thinking about things he could. For that,
he’d keep his wary body up all night.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
“You’re not hearing me, Sam.” Bran
leaned over Detective Lument’s desk. His restraining order laid atop the dozens
of other papers between them. “I have been in here the last four months, filled
out four separate reports-“
“And those reports are what we use
to put someone like Magnus in jail.” Sam tapped on the restraining order.
“Him and who else?” Bran’s knees
knocked together in their weariness. “It’s like the whole Irish mob is on our
backs! And now they’re resorting to scaring twelve year olds!”
Sam massaged his eyes, tapping a
pencil on the chipped edge of his desk. It was dated and worn, like everything
else in the 44th. Bran backed up to where he had a view of Paula,
sitting with a female officer at the bench upfront. He kept looking at her
every two minutes, holding his breath each time. Like the next time he looked,
she’d be gone.
God,
please no.
Bran’s legs begged to buckle under
their fatigue and sit down. He looked back at Detective Lument instead.
“Twelve, Sam. She’s been through too much for that age.”
“You both have.” Sam observed. “That
number I gave you for the department counselor… have you used it?”
Bran knew that would come up. “No.
Can we focus please, on what I’m suggesting.”
Sam shook his head. “What you’re
suggesting is insane.”
“You guys do it all the time.” Bran
told him. Sam shook his head again. “We have Paula’s description, we’ve
interviewed the teachers-“
Bran’s teeth threatened to crack as
he grit his jaws together. “You have the warrant for Magnus, but you can’t find
him. That, and you need evidence other then violating a restraining order.” He
came back up to the desk. “I can get Magnus to meet with me. I’ll be wearing a
wire-“
“And you think he’ll just waltz
right up to you?” Sam frowned in disbelief. “Confess everything?”
If
there’s a way for me to do this, then let me! Bran begged, determined.
“Sam, he’s been stalking us; he wants something, though I haven’t a clue what.
He gave me that number the first time he and his guys tried to bribe me.”
“And on what basis would you lure
him out?”
“He tried to kidnap my niece.” Bran
seethed, his blood reawakening. “What uncle wouldn’t call?”
Sam was back to tapping his pencil.
He then gave Bran a hard stare. “You’re serious about this.”
Was he? Bran looked back at Paula
again. She hadn’t wanted to get out of bed this morning. Constantly peered over
her shoulder on the drive over here. “I’m serious about getting our lives back.
I’m raising Paula in this city, Sam, so I want her to be aware. But I don’t
want her jumping at every shadow, or fearing that there’s no safe place to turn
to.”
Or
that there’s no one to turn to. Bran swallowed. Not even God.
His own thoughts of trust were
pausing now. It made his heart groan. He stared off with Sam. “You want this to
be over just like Paula and I do.”
Sam mumbled something about the
chief not minding either. Still, he hesitated. “You wanna risk Paula losing
another dad?”
It had been one of his first
thoughts. Bran worked his fingers in and out of their fists. “If I don’t face
this, then I’m failing her as a dad.”
Sam gauged that. And sighed before
ringing the chief.
~To Be Continued~
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