The List (24 page)

“That's what I've been told before.”

They stood in silence, Renny wishing for memories, Mr. Harriston enjoying some.

“I'm going back to the church for a minute,” Mr. Harriston said, mopping his brow again. “You take your time.”

“No, I'm done. I'll walk back with you.” Renny felt closer to his grandfather with Mr. Harriston than he did without him.

The cool interior was a true sanctuary from the heat. “Have a seat,” the old man offered. They sat down on the front pew.

“Your grandfather always sat on the end of the pew behind where we are today. He's probably looking over our shoulders right now.”

“How's that?” Renny asked, not sure if the old gentleman was joking or serious.

Gazing upward toward the narrow arch of the ceiling, he said, “He's part of the great cloud of witnesses mentioned in Hebrews 12:1, the crowd in the grandstand of heaven.”

Renny followed his gaze, but saw nothing. “That's an unsettling thought,” he said, not at all sure he liked this notion. He did a quick inventory of a few things he'd done and places he'd gone that he hoped no one knew about, much less a great cloud of witnesses.

“Only if you have something to hide, which, of course, all people do,” the old man said with a wrinkled smile. “But I like to think of the positive side. There is a vast throng cheering you on to victory. Like a home crowd at a football game.”

“I can imagine that, I guess,” Renny said, accepting the metaphor. Turning in the pew, he asked, “If my grandfather were here, what would he be yelling from the grandstand?”

“Given our surroundings and your short pilgrimage, as you described it, I think he would be shouting, ‘Pray, Renny, Pray!'”

Before leaving Charlotte to come to Georgetown, Renny would not have seriously considered Mr. Harriston's suggestion. But Jo and Mama A had softened up the beachhead of his resistance to spiritual activities like prayer.

“That's something I honestly don't know much about.”

Mr. Harriston pointed toward an altar rail supported by dark wooden spindles that spanned the front of the church. A narrow purple kneeling cushion was slightly raised above the level of the wooden floor of the church.

“Your grandfather would often leave his pew and go to the altar for prayer,” he said, pointing to a place to the right of the Communion table. “I suggest we go there, too.”

Offering no resistance, Renny followed Mr. Harriston to the designated spot and knelt beside him. All his senses heightened a notch, and instead of being distracted by the unusual setting, he became focused. “Would you pray?” he asked.

“Certainly, but I suggest you make my prayer your prayer.” Mr. Harriston began in a soft voice, which increased in authority and volume as his prayer continued. “Lord, you are the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Nathaniel Candler. All are alive to you. I pray now for Josiah Jacobson and ask you to meet him in his pilgrimage. Bring into his life the full blessings and promises of his grandfather and others in his family line, and break every curse or influence that would hinder him from knowing you and walking in his God-ordained purpose. Answer every prayer uttered on his behalf before he was born and cause every good thing you desire for him to come to pass. In Jesus' name. Amen.”

The prayer filled the small sanctuary, and Renny felt his own soul fill with something he could not identify or label. It was similar to what happened outside his grandfather's house but without the tears. As he heard phrases in the prayer similar to words in his mother's letter and grandfather's papers, he bowed his head lower. When Mr. Harriston said, “Amen,” Renny didn't stir or lift his head, not wanting to come back too quickly from the place where the prayer took him. After several moments he raised his head to thank Mr. Harriston and ask him how he knew his name was Josiah.

Mr. Harriston was gone.

Renny, still on his knees, glanced quickly around the church. The sanctuary was empty. Getting up from his grandfather's place at the altar rail, he went to the side door where Mr. Harriston had first entered, the floor creaking with each step Renny took. The door opened into a short hall with a room on either side. One room was filled with choir robes, music folders, and costumes for the church Nativity play; the other room had boxes of Sunday school material and a couple of chalkboards. No Mr. Harriston.

Back in the sanctuary, Renny shook his head. The old fellow was either very light on his feet or he flew out of there. Walking up the aisle past the apostles, Renny looked up and down each pew to see where Mr. Harriston was hiding. Seeing no one, he made his way to the back of the church, pushed open the heavy door, and stepped into the sunlight.

13

But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him.

L
UKE 15:20, KJV

R
enny cracked open the kitchen door and stepped inside. “Mrs. Stokes, it's me.”

Brandy came skidding around the corner to greet him.

“I'm leaving you too much, aren't I, girl?” Renny held his dog's head and scratched behind her ears.

“Did you have a good trip?” Mrs. Stokes followed Brandy at a more sedate pace from the den.

“Good? Honestly, I couldn't summarize it in one word, but it's good to be back with you and Brandy.”

Brandy barked, and Renny corrected himself, “I mean Brandy and you.”

“Have you had supper? I thought you might want some home cooking after eating out all weekend, so I saved you a plate.”

Renny hadn't stopped to eat on the drive back. He used the time alone in the car to mull over bits and pieces of all that had occurred since leaving Charlotte for Georgetown. “Anything would be great.”

“You wash up, and I'll get it ready.”

Three minutes later Mrs. Stokes placed a plate of meat loaf, carrots, and green beans on the table in front of Renny.

“Oh yes, you had a phone call about an hour ago from a young woman named Jo Johnston. She asked me to tell you that she was in southern Ohio and hoped to be home by late tonight.”

“Someone I met this weekend in Georgetown,” Renny said between a mouthful of meat loaf and carrots. “You'd like her. She's a nurse at a hospital in Michigan, but probably ought to follow in your steps as a missionary.”

“Really? I liked her over the phone.”

“Did Brandy behave?” Renny asked, rubbing the dog's neck with his foot as she lay at his feet beside his chair. He didn't want to answer too many questions about his weekend.

“More civilized on our walks. We had a long talk, and she agreed not to jerk my arm so hard if I would take an extra lap around the campus.” Renny ate while Mrs. Stokes gave a detailed account of her time with the dog. “She tried to chase down some wild geese that landed on the lawn in front of the administration building at the college. I told her it's not good manners to retrieve live birds.”

“Good advice, Brandy. You could get your head pecked.”

Fortunately, the Georgetown trip wasn't mentioned again. Renny didn't want to sort out what he could and could not say.

“Thanks, Mrs. Stokes. I'm going upstairs.”

“Here's your mail.”

Renny took the handful of envelopes and magazines up the steps to the apartment.

After letting Brandy inside, he brought up his luggage. He thought about the handsome old trunk. Where was it tonight? Probably locked up in the bowels of LaRochette's castle.

Tuesday evening he called Jo. An unfamiliar female voice answered the phone. “Hello.”

“Yes. This is Renny Jacobson. May I please speak to Jo?”

“She's on her shift at the hospital until eleven, but I'll tell her you called. This is her mother.”

“Hello, Mrs. John—” Renny stumbled. He didn't know her last name.

“Carol Edwards. Jo said you might call.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Edwards. I'll be up when Jo gets home, or she can call me tomorrow at work.”

“I'll tell her.”

The phone rang as Letterman finished his monologue. Renny didn't dare tell Aunt Margaret he divided his late-night viewing between Leno and Letterman. She would have considered it talk-show infidelity.

“Hey, Renny, it's me.”

“Hello, me.” Renny aimed the remote at the TV and vaporized Letterman. “Thanks for calling. Are you tired?”

“No more than usual. I finally recovered from my Georgetown trip lag this morning.”

“Good.”

“Did you visit your mother's friend?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It was, uh, interesting.”

“Is that all?”

“No, I also went back to Moncks Corner and visited my grandfather's church and spent a few minutes in front of his house.”

“How was that?”

“It was unusual.”

Jo laughed. “I feel like we're communicating in a chat room on the Internet and you can only type in eight words at a time. At this point I would type LOL and ask you to go into a private room for some meaningful communication.”

“Good idea,” Renny said quickly. “I have a plan to improve our communication. I want to buy you a plane ticket to Charlotte as soon as you have some days off work. You can stay with Mrs. Stokes downstairs. She's a retired missionary, and you two are like bookends. Once you're here, we can play twenty questions to our hearts' content.”

“LOL. I think that would be better than prying you open one sardine at a time. I have three days off beginning next Thursday, but I'll take care of the plane ticket.”

“Great. I mean great that you can come, not that you'll buy your own ticket.” Renny kicked the sofa and wished he didn't sound like such an airhead. “Let me at least pay half of the ticket. I can get a good deal through the travel agency used by the law firm.”

“OK, that's fine.”

“I may have to work some, but I'll try to get in some extra hours before you come, and I'll talk to Mrs. Stokes tomorrow.”

“You haven't asked her yet?”

“No, but she'll say yes.”

“Let me know if there's a problem.”

“I'll call about the ticket tomorrow.”

“I'll work late the night before, so don't make it too early.”

“OK. By the way, what does LOL mean?” Renny asked.

“Laughing out loud.”

“Oh. I'll call you tomorrow or leave word with your mom about the flight.”

“Or you could send me an e-mail. Here's my address.”

“Got it.” Renny wrote her Internet address on a notepad he kept by the phone.

“I've never been to Charlotte. How's the barbecue?”

“Available by the ton.”

“I may be craving it by next week.”

“No problem. A craving is completely natural. Once you've eaten good Southern barbecue, the body requires a regular refill. You're hooked for life.”

“Well, I need to get some sleep.”

“Bye.”

Renny was slightly disappointed as he hung up the phone. He had hoped LOL stood for lots of love.