Almost Heaven

Praise for Chris Fabry

“[
Almost Heaven
is] a redemptive story that shows how God uses ordinary, broken people to accomplish his purposes. Perseverance and sincere faith affect us today and linger into eternity.”

Wess Stafford, president and CEO of Compassion International

“[
June Bug
] is a stunning success, and readers will find themselves responding with enthusiastic inner applause.”

Publishers Weekly

“
June Bug
is masterful. An honest story that dove deep inside me and lingered long after I turned the last page.”

Charles Martin,
New York Times
best-selling author of
Where the River Ends

“From the moment I read the first chapter, I couldn't put this book down. A story carved out of real-life dynamics,
June Bug
captures the heart.”

Gary Chapman, PhD, 
New York Times
best-selling author of
The Five Love Languages

“In
June Bug
, Chris Fabry weaves his talent as a storyteller and his heart for the suffering people of this world into a well-told tale of sacrifice and healing, sorrow and hope, and what happens when we remain faithful to those we love. Well-written and bursting with life.”

Lisa Samson, Christy Award–winning author of
Quaker Summer
and
The Passion of Mary-Margaret

“
June Bug
is a heartwarming tale and a precious reminder that God moves in mysterious ways to create families. June Bug is a heroine you're not likely to forget.”

Angela Hunt, Christy Award–winning author of
The Note II: Taking a Chance on Love

“An emotionally riveting novel that readers will not soon forget,
June Bug
is an endearing story to cherish.”

Tina Ann Forkner, author of
Ruby Among Us
and
Rose House

“Once the story starts cooking, [
Dogwood
] is difficult to put down, what with Fabry's surprising plot resolution and themes of forgiveness, sacrificial love, and suffering.”

Publishers Weekly

“Fabry . . . has written an unusual and emotional tale with a startling twist.”

Library Journal

“Fabry's first novel for adults builds tension and momentum until you're compelled to keep reading to learn the secrets that have so greatly impacted the residents of Dogwood. Ultimately a story of love and forgiveness, [
Dogwood
] should appeal to a wide audience. Highly recommended.”

CBA Retailers + Resources

“Fabry's debut adult novel is filled with twists that will leave readers speechless.”

Romantic Times
, four-star review

“Fabry's plot is intricate and involved with more twists than a backwoods country road. [
Dogwood
] is a page-turner that keeps the reader guessing until the end.”

AnE Vibe

“
Dogwood
turned out to be something I wasn't expecting at all . . . a book about deep secrets, the effort it takes to heal catastrophic hurts, and a thriller with an excellent plot climax.”

1340magbooks.com

“Chris Fabry's debut adult novel,
Dogwood
, is a mosaic of humanity, God's grace, and the power of love. Solidly literary fiction with deep, flawed characters and beautiful prose,
Dogwood
also contains a mystery within the story that adds tension and a deepening plot. . . . Fabry is a wordsmith and quite a storyteller.”

Novel Reviews

Visit Tyndale's exciting Web site at www.tyndale.com.

Visit Chris Fabry's Web site at www.chrisfabry.com.

TYNDALE
and Tyndale's quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

Almost Heaven

Copyright © 2010 by Chris Fabry. All rights reserved.

Cover photo of sky copyright © by Bruno Morandi/Getty Images. All rights reserved.

Cover photo of mandolin copyright © by Bright/Dreamstime. All rights reserved.

Cover photo of feather copyright © by Alexander Potapov/iStock. All rights reserved.

Author photo copyright © 2009 by Edward McCain, www.mccainphoto.com.

All rights reserved.

Designed by Beth Sparkman

Edited by Sarah Mason

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are taken from the
Holy Bible
, King James Version.

The Scripture quotations in the epigraph and in chapter 34 are taken from the
Holy Bible
, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Fabry, Chris, date.

Almost heaven / Chris Fabry.

p. cm.

ISBN 978-1-4143-1957-5 (sc)

I. Title.

PS3556.A26A78 2010

813'.54—dc22 2010021758

To the memory of

James William “Billy” Allman and Barbara Kessel.

You are both missed.

In West Virginia, history often repeats itself. Perhaps the fact that our history is so painful explains why it is so poorly understood.

John Alexander Williams

Therefore, angels are only servants—spirits sent to care for people who will inherit salvation.

Hebrews 1:14

Prologue

Dogwood, West Virginia

2006

Becky Putnam stepped onto Billy Allman's front porch, a camera strung over one shoulder and a reporter's notebook in the other hand. She had graduated with a degree in journalism from Marshall University, a minor in English literature, and felt lucky to have a job in her chosen field. But after a few more assignments like this one, she was going to apply at the new Target. She'd heard they were hiring.

A friend of the owner had mentioned something about Billy Allman and his new venture in town. It was a human-interest story, but not one worth telling in detail. She hoped to get a couple of usable snapshots and then head back to work on the obituaries. If there was anything that kept circulation up, it was the obituaries.

A dog growled inside when she knocked, and she noticed his brown and white coat through the small window by the door. He put his paws up and peered at her, then scratched at the door. She turned and looked at the hillside and the interstate in the distance, car tires whining with the muted wetness of a West Virginia rain. There was nothing like West Virginia rain to bring out the smell of the earth. Of course, she hated the smell of the earth and the West Virginia rain. She wanted to be working in Cincinnati or Lexington. Somewhere that could yield a double homicide or some gang slayings. Instead she was stuck with a promo/puff piece about a guy who had built a radio station in his own house. What could possibly come from this?

The door opened, and there stood Billy Allman. She had expected someone eccentric, maybe with thick glasses and an Albert Einstein look. Wild hair. Or a Stephen Hawking body in a wheelchair. But Billy looked surprisingly normal. He had a crooked grin and hair that barely covered a growing bald spot. He wasn't short or tall, just average with an average build and hairy arms that hung down from a tight T-shirt with sweat stains in the underarms. His jeans had that unwashed look that led her to believe they could stand in the corner by themselves. His skin was washed-out, and she thought of the poem by Edgar Allen Poe that included:

While the angels, all pallid and wan,

Uprising, unveiling, affirm

That the play is the tragedy, “Man,”

And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.

She didn't know why she thought of that, other than the word
pallid
, which was how Billy looked. A tinge of ghost to his complexion. She guessed it was from being inside most of the day.

“You must be Becky,” he said. “Come on in. Don't mind him; he'll just lick you to death.”

He shook her hand and backed inside, looking about and straightening some newspapers on an old couch. Lined up against the wall was a collection of old radios. She asked about them, and Billy went into a dissertation about the year they were made and how long it took him to restore them. He turned one on and let her hear the sound quality and smiled as he tuned the dial.

More to keep the movement going forward than from a keen interest, she said, “Do you mind if I take your picture in front of them?”

His eyes danced and he held up a finger for her to wait. He disappeared into a cluttered room and returned with what looked like a bookshelf with several tubes and knobs mounted on top. “This is my 1924 Atwater Kent. My pride and joy.”

“Great,” Becky said.

He knelt in front of the other radios and rested the shelf on one leg as she snapped the photo. Then Billy led her into the control room, and she took a few more with him at the microphone with headphones on.

When she was done, they sat in the living room and she took some notes. He offered her a drink of water, but by the looks of the dishes in his sink, she didn't want to take the chance. The room was stuffy and close, and the odor of sweaty clothes and stale breath and old wood made her eyes water.

“Is there a Mrs. Allman?” she said.

“No, my mother is gone. . . . You mean a wife?” Billy blushed. “No. I've n-never married.”

“You must be quite proud of this accomplishment,” Becky said, changing the subject. “Not everyone can build their own radio station.”

Billy nodded. “This is about the happiest day of my life.”

She wondered what was on the opposite end of that spectrum. If this was the high point, what could possibly be the low point?

She asked a few more questions and took one of his business cards with the station's slogan on the front. “Is there anything you'd like to add that I haven't asked?” That was one of those questions they taught you in journalism school.

“You've pretty much covered it, I guess.” He walked her out, and as she stood on the porch, he leaned against the door, the dog sitting at his feet dutifully. “I know it's not much. I mean, I know most people probably will pass right over my picture and the news about the station. But I appreciate you taking the time to come all the way out here. I appreciate your interest.”

His sincerity almost took her breath away. She smiled and shook his hand again. “It's been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Allman. I hope you like the story we run.”

“I'm sure I will.”

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