This Side of Heaven Page 7

  Josh shifted, probably trying to find a comfortable position. “Before, I let the pain control everything I did, my entire day. Sometimes my back hurt so bad I could almost picture the pain like a living, breathing being, like the devil had me surrounded and there was no way out. You know?”

  Lindsay reached for his hand. Her heart hurt to hear her brother talk about his situation that way. So what if he hadn’t wanted company. If he’d been that down and discouraged, if the pain had felt that overwhelming . . . “You should’ve said something. I could’ve come by after work more often and at least brought you dinner.”

  “No.” Josh’s forehead was damp, proof that he was still hurting even now as he talked with her. But the peace in his eyes went deeper than whatever he was feeling. “Don’t worry about it, Linds. I was fine.” He looked at the photos lined across his fireplace mantel. “I had to reach this place by myself. Just me and God.”

  She stood and moved closer to the three photographs. The one of the little girl caught her attention first and she took hold of it. “Were these here last time I came by?”

  “Probably.” He sounded sheepish. “It’s not like I usually ask you to sit with me in the living room. Anytime you’ve been here I’m usually in a hurry to get you out.”

  “Why?” She still had the picture in her hand, but she looked back at him, hurt by his admission.

  “Because.” His expression begged her to understand. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. My back . . . it can be a challenge getting around. When I’m here alone I don’t have to act like everything’s okay. I can lie down on the floor or stay in bed if that’s what makes me feel better.” He smiled. “But, I don’t know. Today’s been so weird. The pain’s still there, but it’s distant now. Like someone shouting at me from across a football field.”

  Her heart broke for him, her brother who had always been so happy and easygoing. To think he hadn’t wanted her to stop by because he was embarrassed by his pain. The reality was awful. Lindsay sighed and turned her attention back to the photograph. She’d seen the picture just once before. “How old was she here? Four or five?”

  “Four.” Josh stood and walked to the spot beside Lindsay. “I keep thinking that a year from now I could have partial custody of her. I bet she’s just perfect, you know?”

  Lindsay smiled at him. “I can’t wait to meet her.” Never mind that their parents didn’t think the girl was really Josh’s daughter or that years had passed without any word from the girl’s mother. The child honestly did bear a resemblance to Josh, so the possibility of her being Josh’s daughter was a very real one as far as Lindsay was concerned. Besides, why argue the idea? Josh believed she was his daughter, and Lindsay believed in Josh.

  She set the photograph down and looked at the one beside it. The picture showed two teenage girls dressed in jeans and sweaters, standing in front of the snow-covered front yard of a two-story home. “Who are they?”

  “It’s a long story.” Josh’s answer was quick. “They’re best friends. I met them on a job.”

  Lindsay looked at the girls again and she knew without asking that her brother wasn’t interested in either of them. They were ten years younger than him, at least. Whatever the story behind them, it must’ve mattered greatly to Josh for him to keep their photo where he could see it every day. “Did you take the picture?”

  “No.” Josh turned away and walked to the kitchen. “I’m not sure who took it.” He pressed his hand to his lower back, but he didn’t slow his pace. “It’s no big deal, really. I just keep it there to remind me of the good that can come from towing cars.” He reached for the cupboard near his sink. “Want some water?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” She was still thinking about the teenage girls. If Josh needed a reason to believe in his job, then whatever he had come up with, Lindsay was happy for him. Especially since his work had cost him his health, and, in the last three years, his employment.

  Lindsay took a glass of water from him. “Tell me about these neighbors of yours, the ones you’re going to church with.”

  “They’re a great group. Carl Joseph and his girlfriend, Daisy, live in separate apartments in my building, and then there’s Carl Joseph’s brother, Cody, and his wife, Elle, who is Daisy’s sister. The four of them go every week together, and ever since I told Carl Joseph about that Wynonna video and how I felt God calling me back to Him, they’ve included me in their group.” Josh’s eyes were full of light. “I really have a very rich life, Lindsay. The settlement has nothing to do with that.”

  She made a point to remember how he looked in that moment, sunshine streaming in through his small kitchen window, standing there in his tiny apartment, his back no doubt killing him, and believing with all his heart that no amount of money could make him any richer. Happy tears made her eyes damp. “I can’t wait for Friday dinner. And Saturday, too.” She hugged him one more time and held on longer than usual. When she eased back, she looked straight into his heart, the part that would always belong to her. “I think maybe you’re just starting to live again.”

  “I am.” He breathed in deep and stood straight again. “I can hardly wait to see what God has for me next.”

  “Me, too. I mean—I have my brother back.” She took her purse from the coffee table and slipped it up onto her shoulder. Then she kissed her brother’s cheek and headed for the front door. “Friday night.”

  “I’ll be there.” They were at the door and Josh leaned into the frame. “Oh, and that six hundred dollars you loaned me?” He pulled a check from his pocket and handed it to her. “You can cash it on Wednesday.”

  Lindsay hadn’t thought about the loan since she gave him the money a few months ago when his doctor bills were too high for him to pay the rent. “Josh, you don’t have to do that.” She tried to hand the check back to him, but he wouldn’t take it. “Consider it a gift.”

  “I can’t.” His tone was still light, but Lindsay knew he was serious about the money. “I told you I’d pay you back and I meant it. I have my bills figured out for next month.” He smiled. “Thanks for being there. I didn’t want to get behind, and because of you and Larry, I didn’t.”

  “Well . . . you could’ve waited for your settlement.”

  “I owe Mom and Dad almost a year’s wages.” He gave her a funny look, the way he used to on a Saturday when they had just one afternoon to clean the entire garage. “That will definitely have to wait for the settlement.” He touched her shoulder. “Yours I can repay now, so let me, okay?”

  “Okay.” She held his eyes a few seconds longer before she folded the check and put it in the pocket of her jeans. “I love you, Josh. I’m so happy you found your way back.”

  “Love you, too.” His eyes danced. “Tell Ben to look for me in the stands.”

  With that Lindsay ran lightly to her car and as she pulled out of the complex she saw Josh standing on his porch watching her, his smile visible from across the parking lot. She waved one last time and then made a quick decision. She would do her other errands first, then go by her mother’s house last. That way she wouldn’t feel rushed. Today the two of them needed to talk about more than the schedule for the coming week, or who Ben’s team was playing in Saturday’s game.

  She walked through her parents’ front door an hour later and found her mother on the phone out back in the garden. Lindsay was practically bursting with the news about Josh, but her mom motioned to her to wait a minute. She had a pile of pulled weeds at her feet and a small box of gardening tools nearby. Lindsay leaned against the back wall of the house and looked beyond her mother to the acreage that made up the backyard. She and Josh used to play games out here every afternoon, and in summer their parents would set up an aboveground pool for them and their friends. So many happy memories.

  “Like Nate always says, the election isn’t a sure thing, so we have to be careful. We had the librarians here on Friday and this week it’s another group of representatives from the teachers union. I think we’re serv
ing cheesecake again.” She made a face in Lindsay’s direction and drew small circles in the air with her free hand, as if to say she was trying to wrap up the call. “Right, well, maybe you should be here. You’re a friend of ours and a friend of theirs. That’s always good for Nate.”

  Lindsay worried about her mom. Before her dad ran for the Board of Education, her parents were involved with a Bible study at church and bringing meals to the home-bound. Now it seemed like nearly every hour of the day was dedicated to helping her father get reelected. Maybe the talk about Josh would help get her mind off the dinner parties and political posturing that took up so much of their time.

  Another two minutes and finally her mother’s call ended. She exhaled hard and made a mock show of exhaustion. “That woman is more connected than anyone in the Springs, but boy, can she talk.” Her mom looked at her watch. “The garden will have to wait. We have a dinner tonight with her and three other people.” She dusted her hands on her navy cotton pants and smiled at Lindsay. “You brought back the baking dish?”

  “I did, but I was sort of hoping you might have a few minutes.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I need to get ready.” Her mother breezed past her. “Come into the kitchen for a minute. I have to wash up.”

  Lindsay had no choice but to follow her. “I stopped by Josh’s apartment earlier. He was playing this song—”

  Her mother flipped on the water, tapped a few squirts of soap into her hands, and began rubbing them together. She raised her eyebrows in Lindsay’s direction as if to say she was still listening. But over the sound of the water, Lindsay knew her mother couldn’t catch every word, so she waited.

  After a minute, she turned off the water and reached for a paper towel. “So he was playing Christian music, is that what you’re saying?” She dried her hands and tossed the damp paper into the trash compactor. The sound of the container opening and shutting added to the noise, and Lindsay waited.

  Her mother seemed to understand that this conversation needed more of her attention, so she stopped short, her eyes on Lindsay. “Sorry, honey, go ahead.”

  “Anyway, yes. He was listening to ‘I Can Only Imagine.’ You know that song, right?”

  “Hmmm.” Her mother shook her head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “It’s a song about heaven, and when he called me this morning he was playing it so loud I could barely hear him over the phone, and he said it was like he finally—”

  “He has to be careful of the neighbors. It’s not like he has many friends, Lindsay.” She looked at her watch again, and then folded her arms. “Loud music isn’t going to endear him to anyone.”

  Lindsay stared at her mom. Why was she doing this, making it so hard for her to share the good news about Josh? Be patient, she told herself. God, please give me patience. Mom doesn’t know what’s coming.

  “Anyway, the point wasn’t the neighbors. It’s that Josh seems changed by the song, by the message in it. He was talking about God today, and how he’s going back to church, and . . . even his pain didn’t seem as bad as usual.”

  Her mother took one of the oranges from the fruit bowl, grabbed another paper towel, spread it on the counter, and dug her fingernail into the fruit’s skin. “You don’t mind if I eat, do you? I completely forgot lunch, and breakfast was something small left over from yesterday.”

  Lindsay wanted to scream at her. This was outrageous. “Did you hear what I said? About how he wants to go to church with us and how his pain seems more manageable?”

  “I hate that pain medication he’s on.” She took a section of the orange, ripped it in half, and put one small piece into her mouth. With her free hand she dabbed at the corners of her lips and focused on her next bite. “That OxyContin can kill a person.” She chewed and swallowed another piece. “I was on the Internet looking it up the other day and it actually said if you chew the tablets instead of swallowing them, the release of the drug could be strong enough to kill you.” She waved another section of orange in the air. “The doctor has him on way too high a dose, and sure he might not feel any pain today, but what about when he’s addicted to the stuff? Then we’ll all wish he would’ve lived with a little more pain and not said yes every time the doctor increased his dose.”

  When Lindsay’s frustration left her without a response, her mother continued. “And yes, dear, he talks about church and God once in a while. I’ll believe something’s changed when I see it. Otherwise it’s just a lot of talk, and you know Josh. Always dreaming about his plans for this or that—even before the accident.” She ate a few more sections of the orange, and then slipped what remained into a ziplock bag.

  “Mom, are you even hearing me?” Lindsay wanted to cry. This was a big day for Josh, and their mother wasn’t connecting with anything she was saying.

  “Of course I’m hearing you, dear.” She put the orange in the refrigerator. “It’s just that if we’re honest with ourselves we’ve heard these stories from Josh over and over again.” Her look was bathed in discouragement. “I really worry about your brother. Ever since high school he’s struggled to put his plans into action.” She closed the distance between them and kissed Lindsay on the forehead. “Thanks for being such a good sister to him. It’s important that all of us keep encouraging him. That’s especially true for you.” She began walking toward the stairs and her bedroom. “I have to get ready, but we’ll talk more about it later, okay?”

  If Lindsay hadn’t been so mad at her mother, she would have yelled at her. She would have told her no, it wasn’t okay, and that no dinner party was more important than the changes she’d seen in Josh that day. But if her mom didn’t care to listen, then so be it. She wouldn’t ruin the good feelings in her heart by fighting with her mother.

  By the time Lindsay was back in her car, her anger had faded and in its place was the pity she felt more often for her mother. Pity because her mother’s focus wasn’t on her faith the way it once had been, and because she wasn’t only worried about Josh, she was embarrassed by him. Their mom was frustrated that Josh hadn’t become an educator like his father or a writer like Lindsay. As she turned onto the main road toward home, she thought again about her brother and his renewed excitement for God and life and his determination to find his way despite the pain.

  If she was honest with herself, honest about the ugliest places in her heart, there had been times when she, too, had been embarrassed by Josh’s career decisions. He’d been capable of so much more than driving a tow truck. But at least her embarrassment hadn’t lasted long. If towing cars was what her brother loved to do, then she would be glad for him—no matter what else he might have done with his life.

  She still didn’t know the story behind the photograph of the two teenage girls, but the next time they were together she would press him about it. Clearly, he kept the picture on the mantel for a reason—one that brought tears to her eyes as she pulled into her garage.

  When no one in his family was proud of his work at the garage, when he couldn’t find affirmation anywhere else, the photo probably gave him something that meant the world to her brother.

  A reason to believe in himself.

  SIX

  Josh was about to pass out from the pain. He was on the witness stand, answering questions in a calm, deliberate tone, but on the inside his body was screaming for relief. Where are You, God? I need You here. . . . Please. . . .

  The attorney for the insurance company was taking a minute with his associates, regrouping for the next round of biting questions. Josh closed his eyes for a few seconds and tried to adjust his position, tried to find even the slightest relief from the pain. The joy and hope and faith that had marked his world three days ago was still there, but it was harder to feel. That’s all. Please, God. Are You there?

  My child, I am with you always . . . even until the end. . . . The answer wasn’t loud, but it resonated in his soul and brought with it a peace that reminded him of the truth. This deposition wasn’t the end of the story
—no matter what it netted. His life was changed now, and no amount of pain could undo that. He heard the attorney clear his voice as he stepped back up to the microphone.

  Josh opened his eyes and tried to look relaxed and professional. Thomas Flynn, his attorney, had told him a number of times how important this day in court would be to his final settlement. The judge could still decide on an amount anywhere between a hundred thousand dollars and a million dollars.

  The lead attorney for the insurance company was William R. Worthington, of Worthington and Associates in Denver. He was in his early fifties with a head of gray-flecked hair. Everything from his dark designer suit to the way he carried himself told those in the courtroom he was a force to be reckoned with. The insurance company was hoping Worthington would save them hundreds of thousands of dollars when the battle was over.

  Worthington held a half-inch-thick document, and he flipped slowly through the first three pages. His actions gave the impression that he was carefully sorting through something important—a pile of damaging evidence, perhaps—and that he was putting great thought into his next question.

  Josh knew differently. “Everything an attorney does is part of the act,” Flynn told him. “The confidence, the appearance that they’ve already won the case, the pauses—all of it.”

  Now the attorney leaned close to the microphone. “Mr. Warren, you’ve had trouble with your weight, is that true?”

  “Objection.” Flynn was on his feet. “Question is vague, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained.” The judge was a wiry man who seemed bored with the proceedings. “Counsel will rephrase the question.”

  “Very well.” Worthington nodded his head slightly. “Mr. Warren, you’re overweight. Is that true?”

  “Actually, over the past couple years, I—”

  “Yes or no answers, Mr. Warren. Are you overweight?” Josh pictured the doctor telling him he only needed to lose another forty pounds. “Yes.” He pulled a tissue from a box at the corner of the witness stand and dabbed it on his forehead. “Yes, I am.”