Grave Shadows (20 page)

Chapter 81

When Bryce got home
he looked like someone had sucked the marrow from his bones. He didn’t want to talk.

We heard nothing from the hospital the rest of the night, and I had a hard time sleeping. I wondered if we’d ever get Jeff’s things back, but now a few signed footballs and baseballs didn’t seem to matter.

I dreamed that Hayley’s cousin broke into our house and took Mom’s computer—the one that has her book manuscripts on it. I ran after him and found myself in the hallway of the middle school. In my nightgown. Skeeter Messler offered his coat, but I ran into the gym. Everybody laughed at me, pointing and taking pictures.

The next few days went by slowly. Bryce slept a lot, trying to recuperate from the trip. We got an update from Jeff’s parents each day, but we hated bothering them.

On Sunday, Mom drove Bryce, Dylan, and me to church (Sam and Leigh only go on Christmas and Easter), and it felt good to be with my friends in Sunday school.

Our youth pastor had Bryce tell about his trip, and we all prayed for Jeff. Some kids acted out a couple of dramas that were pretty funny, but I couldn’t laugh.

Our church service usually begins with some kind of praise song, but when the musicians ended the prelude, our senior pastor, Reverend Jackson, walked to the pulpit. “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away,” he said. “Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

A hush fell over the congregation.

“As most of you know, we’ve had the privilege of knowing a special young man in this church the past few years.”

Jeff’s seventh-grade photo flashed on the screen, showing him smiling big, like he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Today, our loss is heaven’s gain. Jeff Alexander went to be with Jesus just minutes ago. His parents knew you would want to know.” Pastor Jackson looked down at his Bible.

I saw kids crying. Bryce sat staring out the window that faces the mountains.

“I wish I had the answers to the questions running through all our minds right now,” Pastor Jackson said with a shaky voice. “All I know is that when one of his dear friends passed away, Jesus wept. He feels the heartache, but he also holds our friend in his arms. And someday we’ll see Jeff again because of Jesus.”

Chapter 82

Cars ringed the Alexanders’ house.
An older woman answered the door, and I guessed she was Jeff’s grandmother. She was red-eyed, like everybody else. Jeff’s mom saw Ashley and me and rushed to hug us.

“I came for the digital recorder,” I said. “Jeff made some notes on it and asked me to write his last newspaper column.”

She nodded. “We put his things in his room. You can go on up.”

Jeff’s helmet lay on the bed along with his dress clothes. His parents had probably picked them out for his funeral. I felt guilty being in there, like we were on holy ground.

The recorder was on his nightstand. As we turned to leave I noticed a poster on Jeff’s wall. The painting was from a runner’s perspective, and golden sunlight filtered down to red rocks. The next step was a drop, a precipice over a huge chasm. It was clear the runner was going to jump to the other side to a beautiful forest and waterfall.

Underneath the scene were these words:
Success is the ability to focus not on what’s behind or around, but on what’s ahead.

Chapter 83

Bryce took the laptop computer to his room.
I offered to help him write the column, but he wanted to do it himself. He asked if I’d phone the editor at the paper and tell her it was coming.

When I told her what Bryce was doing, she said, “I’m so sorry about Jeff. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for his parents.”

She told me she would run Bryce’s article in the morning with the story on Jeff’s death, “if he can transmit it to me tonight.”

I waited in my room, tried listening to music, lighting a candle, and writing in my journal, but I couldn’t get my mind off Jeff. Mom gave me a book about heaven that had lots of quotes from the Bible and famous Christians.

I found one from a man named C. S. Lewis who wrote a lot of books about being a Christian. “I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others do the same.”

Chapter 84

It was weird hearing Jeff’s voice on the recorder.
Most were random thoughts. The color of the trees. The way the mountains looked as we rode past. Jeff had a great eye, and he noticed things I didn’t.

I typed everything he said. How was I going to make a column out of this? Why had he wanted me to write it myself? Ashley would have been a big help. My mom could have done it in her sleep. I started three times, then erased what I’d written.

Mom says she sometimes starts in the middle of what she wants to say, then goes back and writes the beginning. I tried that and found the words coming easier. I tried to write what Jeff would say.

Mom called us to dinner, but I kept working. I knew she’d understand. When I finished, I went back and wrote a beginning. It was okay, but I tinkered with it for a long time. Finally I saved and printed it.

“Want me to take a look?” Mom said. She put a pencil behind her ear and walked around the dining-room table, reading. I kept waiting for her to mark it up like my English teacher, but finally she stopped in front of our big windows, turned, and gently set the paper on the table.

“I wouldn’t change a thing,” she said, tears in her eyes.

Chapter 85

Jeff’s Diary

by Bryce Timberline

I’ve known Jeff Alexander since I moved to Red Rock a few years ago. I was excited when he asked me to join him on a long bike trip to raise money for cancer research, and I want to thank everyone who gave money to support Jeff and the cause. To be honest, I didn’t know if we’d be able to finish.

If you’ve read his columns, you know how much Jeff loved life. As we rode, he kept noticing things I didn’t. Like the boulders he called “dinosaur eggs.” And the way Pikes Peak changes with the way the sun hits it. It’s the same mountain all day, but it looks different at different times.

When we were just about finished, Jeff moved to the front seat of our bike. He wasn’t well, but this was his dream, and he pushed himself to the end.

Jeff wasn’t perfect. He was a teenager, which meant he got angry, was selfish, said things he regretted, and even forgot to do his homework a few times. He was not a saint, but he did have the biggest heart of anybody I’ve ever known. I wish there were some way to prove that, but you’ll just have to take my word.

It’s hard saying good-bye to someone who has meant so much to so many people. If Jeff were writing this instead of me, he’d want to tell you how much God loves you and wants you to know him. He’d probably describe the last sunset he saw behind Pikes Peak. But the last thing Jeff would want you to be would be sorry for him.

The truth is, this morning when Jeff took his last breath, he got to see the most beautiful sight ever. That any of us will ever see. He got to be with the one who loved him so much that he died for him. Jeff doesn’t have to worry about tumors anymore, and he doesn’t have to deal with headaches and blood work and hospital rooms.

If you think of Jeff in the weeks to come, I hope you’ll pray for his mom and dad and those of us who knew him. If you’re like me, you have questions about why it happened to him and how God could allow it. I learned at church this week that it’s okay to ask those questions, but be open to letting God speak to you through the Bible.

I promised Jeff I would write this for him. Thanks for reading it.