Far Country (16 page)

           
  “Josh, my little brother, was just ten, and about as annoying as any
younger brother can be.  He was always following me around, and that day,
he followed me into the woods. I sent him home, of course, told him it wasn’t
safe to be wandering around out there during hunting season,  but it turns
out he followed me anyway.

           
“So I got out to where I knew that buck would be passing through and hunkered
down in some brush, downwind of the path. I waited on that trail for about an
hour before I finally heard that buck rustling around in a thicket.  I got
so excited I just turned and let off a shot.” 

           
Pete paused for a moment before he continued more quietly than ever.  “It
was a good shot.  Josh was dead before he hit the ground.”

           
“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered into the silence that seemed to stretch on
forever.

           
Pete gave an ugly laugh.  “That wasn’t the worst of it.  I was so
scared and overwhelmed when I saw it was Josh lying there. I didn’t know what
to do….so I walked

home and never said a
word.  For two days.”

           
Steve was speechless with shock and horror, as he tried to imagine what those
two days had been like for the teenaged Pete.  He felt a sudden twist of
shame that he had been so wrapped up in his own tragedy that he had never
considered what burdens those around him were struggling with. 

           
“What happened?” Steve asked at last when he could no longer endure the
silence.

           
Pete sighed and shook himself.  “At the end of two days of watching my
parents and neighbors going crazy, I couldn’t stand it any longer.  I
confessed, and told my parents where the body was.  My father,” Pete said
with a painful smile, “slapped me so hard I bounced off the wall. Then he
picked me up and held me close.  We both cried.”

           
“And your mother?” Steve prompted quietly.

           
Pete shook his head.  “She hasn’t talked to me in eight years.  Dad
tried to get us to work it out but she could barely even stand to look at
me.  So about a year after the accident I went to live with Dad’s sister,
my Aunt Celia, in Asheboro.  I stayed there until I graduated from high
school.  Dad came to visit me from time to time, but I could never go
home.  My mother won’t have me in the house, even now. She said she could
have forgiven me for the accident, but leaving Josh alone in those woods for
two days, and never telling a soul, that she could never forgive.

           
“I think you know how it was that first year,” Pete said with a sigh. 
“The self recriminations, wishing it could have been you instead; knowing that
everybody in town is talking about you every time you walk through town, or
down the hall at school. Friends avoid you…it was a relief, really, to move in
with Aunt Celia. She lived far enough away that nobody knew what had happened.

           
“And Aunt Celia was great,”” Pete continued earnestly.  She kept telling
me that this was a fresh start and I should try to put it all behind me and try
to move on with my life. But I couldn’t.  I couldn’t forget Josh and I
couldn’t forgive myself, any more than my mother could.”
            Steve’s
mouth was dry. He could picture the lonely boy, struggling to move on with his
life – he’d been that lonely boy! But somehow, that wounded boy had been
transformed into the calm and peaceful man that was Peter Bergen.

           
“What changed?” Steve asked tentatively.

           
Pete flashed him a smile.  “Jesus, of course! And a preacher named Jeff
 Allan.”  The memory of his mentor visibly brightened Pete’s whole
being. He leaned forward in his seat, eager now to finish the story.

           
“My parents never had taken me to church much, but once I moved in with Aunt
Celia, that changed.  If the doors were open, she was there.  And if
she was there, she expected me to be there right beside of her. Choir, youth
group, and preaching. LOTS of preaching!”  Pete gave a mock shudder. 
“How I hated it! Except the singing, sometimes. And I thought Youth Group was
stupid, but I did enjoy the camping trips in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I could
put up with a lot of preaching just for the opportunity to walk through those
old hills. It seemed like the only place I could breathe.” Pete took a sip from
a bottle of water he had brought in with him and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

           
“Anyway, Pastor Jeff was a younger man, and he began to take a special interest
in me.  I was still pretty raw and withdrawn, and eaten up with the
guilt.  Aunt Celia had told him my story, and little by little, he began
to coax me out. We talked about what I’d done, and then he’d talk to me about
the people in the Bible. He taught me that the famous patriarchs in those
stories weren’t such angelic people. They lied, and made mistakes and even
killed people sometimes, but God still loved them.  Not because they were
perfect and blameless, but because they had faith, and trusted in the Lord no
matter what. And when they messed up, they asked God to forgive them, and He
did!”  Pete shook his head in wonder.  “The idea of unconditional
love – that blew me away, Steve.

           
“It took awhile, but eventually I got tired of hating myself.  I thought
“what can it hurt to try it God’s Way?  I can’t get much more miserable
than I already am.” So, I began to pray for forgiveness, and for Jesus to come
into my life.  It didn’t happen all at once, but one day, while I was
reading the Bible and praying, I suddenly felt a presence. It filled me and I
felt this peacefulness – there’s no words to describe it, Steve, but it was
love like you never felt before.

           
Pete’s eyes grew soft at the memory.  “That Spirit never left,
either.  It’s been with me
everyday
, helping me
and guiding me.  I know you don’t much like hearing about Jesus, Steve,
but I’m here to tell you – He IS real.”

           
“I know He is real,” Steve replied quietly.  “He spoke to me while I was
alone on the mountain…I even prayed that Sinner’s prayer.”

           
Pete’s mouth dropped open in complete shock, and then his face began to glow
with joy for Steve. He let out a little war hoop as he jumped up from his chair
and wrapped his huge arms around Steve in a great bear hug.  At Steve’s
grunt of pain, Pete instantly let go and smacked himself on the forehead,
laughing and apologizing at the same time.

           
“This is incredible!” He cried.  Pete reached out to hug Steve again, but
stopped himself as he saw Steve wince in anticipation.  “
Aggh
!” He cried in happy frustration, waving his arms in
the air.  “If you weren’t already so broken I’d hug you to pieces!” Pete
threatened.  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He demanded beginning to
pace the room in his enthusiasm.

           
Steve smiled, a little embarrassed. “I was kind of scared that I was just
hallucinating,” he admitted. But then some of Pete’s excitement began to infect
his own spirit.  “Do you think it could have been real, Pete?  Does
God still speak to people?”

           
“Don’t be silly, of course He does!” A third voice interjected firmly.

           
“For a brief second the two young men stared at each other in surprise, before
turning toward the door. Reverend Graham leaned against the door jam, a
quizzical look in his eyes.

           
With a cry of joy, Pete flung himself at the preacher and enveloped the white
haired man in a bear hug. The surprised Reverend disappeared from Steve’s
view.  When he emerged a few moments later he was laughing but looking a
little confused at Pete’s animated behavior.  “What was that all about?”
He asked, entering the room and placing a gentle hand on Steve’s uninjured
shoulder. 

           
Steve looked up into Reverend Graham’s kindly face, feeling even more
embarrassed still to be talking to Reverend Graham about something that until
three weeks ago, he had dismissed as bunk.

           
 “I prayed the Sinner’s Prayer – when I was up on the mountain,” he
admitted at last.

           
Reverend Graham’s hand froze on Steve’s shoulder. “Ah sweet Jesus, thank you!”
He breathed in an awed whisper.’     

           
Steve was shocked to see tears misting the older man’s eyes, despite the smile
on his lips. Then suddenly, he too hugged Steve, thought better of it as Steve
groaned in pain, and ended up hugging Pete in a fierce, backslapping exchange
of joy.

           
Steve looked on in surprise at their reaction.  It had never occurred to him
that his admission would create such a commotion.

           
Still breathing hard and with joyful tears brimming out of his eyes, Reverend
Graham dropped into the seat Pete had just vacated and took Steve’s hand. 
“So tell me the whole story,” the preacher prompted him.  “I’ve been
waiting a long time to hear this!”

           
Steve was startled.  “You have?” He asked uncertainly.

           
Reverend Graham shook his head, the blissful grin never leaving his face.
“Steve, I have prayed for you, my family has prayed for you, and the elders of
my church have prayed for you every day by name, since the day of your
accident.”

           
Steve’s
eye’s
widened in frank disbelief. “
Every
day?”

           
Reverend Graham nodded. “
Every
day,” he confirmed. “Even after you went
to college and seemed to have left Jacksonville forever, we prayed for you.”

           
Steve dropped his head, humbled and ashamed.  “I yelled at you,” he
whispered.  “That last time you came to see me in Jacksonville.  I, I
don’t know what I said, exactly, but I know I said some pretty ugly
things.  I didn’t want any part of God or religion…why would you keep
praying for me after all I said and did?”

           
Reverend Graham shrugged, as if the answer was obvious.  “You were lost,
and in the far country, running away from God.  We knew we would have to
pray a long time, to help you find a way back to Him - and praise God, you
have!”

           
Steve looked at Reverend Graham in awe. He realized that he had been given a
great gift. It was no small thing to know that even on his worst days, there
had been people praying for him by name, lifting him up and caring about him
even when he barely cared about himself.

           
He had been wandering in an empty wasteland of guilt and self hate for years
now.  What a difference simply saying “Yes, Lord,” had already made! It
was just a small step, but he knew it was a step in the right direction. For
the first time since the accident, he felt a glimmer of hope for his future. He
knew that he had a long way to go still, but now he was eager to begin the
journey!

           
Further conversation ended as the red headed nurse arrived with Steve’s
discharge papers in hand. “All right now,” the nurse called out as she rolled a
wheel chair into Steve’s room and parked it near his seat. “Are you ready to go
home at last, Mr. Williams?” She asked with a smile.

           
Steve smiled back in agreement. “Yes, ma’am, I am”

           
Steve’s hand slapped the edge of the pool.  Twenty Laps! Breathing hard,
he felt a glow of satisfaction and flipped onto his back, floating lazily in
the warm water.   He stared up through the glass enclosure of the
indoor pool at the gray and stormy March sky.  Last week it had been a
balmy sixty-five degrees.  Driving down Western Blvd., you could almost
see the buds on the long rows of Bradford Pears swelling until they exploded
into millions of small white flowers.  This week, it was thirty-three
degrees, and instead of flower petals falling gently on a soft spring breeze,
the sky was spitting a nasty mixture of snow and rain, guaranteed to chill your
bones.

           
March was always a miserable month
, Steve reflected. 
Teasing
you with the first hints of spring, and then slamming you with the remnants of
winter.
Still, he knew that if he were at Hanging Rock today, there would
still be snow in the mountains, and hard frost in the ground even now. 
Winter wouldn’t begin to loosen its hold on the park until
some
time
in April.

           
Slowly, Steve made his way back down the lane, doing a lazy backstroke. He
could feel the ache in his arm and side still, and there were numb spots on his
leg where he had shattered the bone, but overall, Steve was pleased with his
progress. Since the casts had come off in November, he had worked hard to
regain his full range of movement in his damaged limbs.  Each day he swam
laps, and then spent another hour in the weight room rebuilding the atrophied
muscles in his arm and leg.  His progress had been steady, and he began to
believe he would be able to return to Hanging Rock by early summer.

           
Steve reached the opposite end of the pool, rolled to his stomach and dove
under the roped lanes to the ladder.  He pulled himself up, grimacing a
little at the flash of pain that traveled through his shoulder.  Steve
sighed, already missing the weightlessness of the pool.  In the water, he
could almost forget how much damage the fall had done to him. As soon as he
hoisted himself back onto dry land, though, it was clear that he had a long way
to go!