 The night was deepening, and an abnormal chill grew with the darkness that set in. If it weren't for the street lamps dotting the sidewalk here and there, Alex would have feared stumbling over his own feet. His teeth chattered.
"You need some more meat to cover those bones," said Jase as he moved to drape his jacket over Alex's shoulders.
Alex shoved it aside with one hand. "I'm fine."
Jase shrugged and put the jacket back on. "Suit yourself. As soon as we get to my place you can call your mom to let her know--"
"Mom's dead."
Jase was silent for a moment, for which Alex found himself grateful. When the older boy didn't continue, Alex added, "I live with my step dad."
"Look, man, I'm sorry if I brought up a painful subject."
"Forget it...it's been almost a year, now." Alex lost himself in the rhythm of their shoes clapping against the sidewalk. The silence stretched on until he came to himself at last and asked, "Who do you live with?"
"My mom. Dad died a few years back." Jase spoke as simply as if they were talking about their morning. "Cancer."
Now it was Alex's turn to be silent.
"This is my street," said the older boy, and crossed to the other side of the road. After another block, the smell of a delicious meat casserole wafted through the air, and Alex knew they were getting close. As if to confirm this, Jase pointed ahead and said, "And there's my house."
Jase's house appeared warm and inviting. A flowered walkway lit by 3 garden lanterns on each side led through the yard to a magnificent oak and chiseled-glass front door. Yellow light filtered out from within, and through sheer curtains, Alex could make out a woman's figure bustling in and out of the dining room.
Jase opened the door and ushered Alex in.
The living room emanated family life. It smelled of a home-cooked meal and was decorated with family photos, knick-knacks, and other household memorabilia. The plush maroon furniture sat in a comfortable semi-circle on the hardwood floors and a dark wood bookcase on the side-wall shone with a fresh coat of polish. A large plasma TV on the wall played a relaxing acoustic guitar and pan flute instrumental through the inconspicuous surround-sound speakers hanging from the ceiling.
"Mom, we have company."
"I've already set an extra plate," called a pleasant voice from the kitchen. Alex's eyebrow lifted questioningly.
"It's weird," said Jase, "but sometimes Mom just knows when I have a friend over. Come on," he continued, "let's clean up. I'll let you borrow some dry clothes, and you can call home to let them know where you are."
Once Alex had donned Jase's too-large t-shirt and sweats, Jase led him to the phone in the study and left to throw their wet things in the dryer. Alex picked up the phone, hesitated, then pretended to dial home.
"Mark, hey, it's Alex," he said into the dial tone as Jase re-entered the study. "I accidentally fell in the lake on the way home, so I'm at a friend's house drying off and having dinner, but I'll be home by nine o'clock. Is that okay?"
He paused, listening to the pre-recorded operator's voice intone: "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again..."
"Great, see you when I get home." Alex hung up the phone and nodded to Jase. "All set."
"You know, you don't have to lie," Jase said as they walked through the carpeted hall.
"What do you mean?" Alex started uncomfortably.
"You fell into the lake?" Jase looked at him askance. "Why not just tell him the truth?"
Alex breathed an inward sigh of relief then rolled his eyes. "Trust me, my step-dad doesn't care about my trivial 'school dramas.' A little white lie saves us both a lot of headache."
Jase, unconvinced, didn't respond. In another moment, they rejoined Jase's mother in the dining room just as she placed the last fork on its napkin.
"Mmm, MMM, smells good in here," said Jase, dropping into a seat facing the front window. "Oh, Mom, this is my friend--"
"Alex." She looked up with smiling blue eyes and nodded her golden head of hair to Alex, who had frozen halfway to his chair in disbelief. "Welcome, young man." He plopped down on his seat.
"How did you know my name?"
"All will be revealed in good time."
"Okaaay...and you are...?" Alex checked his tone. "Uhh, Mrs...?"
"Jacobs." Mrs. Jacobs poured a purple liquid into his glass, then Jase's, and finally her own. "Try some punch."
"Thanks." Alex took a sip of the punch, raspberry and grape juice with sparkling water. His mom used to make it. He nearly spit it out as the name registered in his mind. "Jacobs?!"
Jase rolled his eyes with a smirk and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "Here we go..."
"You're the Jacobs?" Alex's wide eyes shifted from mother to son, then back again. Of all the rumors Alex had heard floating around Hillview High since he'd enrolled a few months ago, including those about him, this was the only rumor everyone, even the teachers, agreed on. The Jacobs were certifiably insane.
"We're not as crazy as everyone says we are, huh?" Jase still sat casually propped against the back of his chair, his demeanor oddly disarming.
"Well..." Alex hesitated, a kind of panic settling in his heart. "Hey, I really should get going. I'm not that hungry, and I told Mark I'd be home before--"
"Oh, sit down, Alex," said Mrs. Jacobs, her voice firm but gentle.
Alex sat down seemingly against his will. He just wanted to be back in his room, curled up under his blankets with a Harry Potter book and a flashlight.
"Hey, show a little gratitude, man," Jase chided. "Didn't I just save your life?"
"Jase..."
"What, Mom? Billy Tucker tossed him into the lake like a football, even though the kid said he couldn't swim--"
Alex's cheeks burned red with embarrassment.
"--they would have left him for dead if I hadn't dived in after him. Now he'd rather believe the lies he hears at school than trust the only people that have shown him any hospitality since he moved here?"
The room was silent. As much as Alex hated to hear them, and despite the defenses rising within him, Jase's truthful words cut him.
"Your mother used to do that," said Mrs. Jacobs. "Biting the inside of her cheek when she was lost in thought."
Alex let go of his cheek, shocked. How did she know that about his mom?
He glanced at Jase, whose confidence and candor impressed him despite everything, and then back into the shining blue eyes of this woman who somehow had an intimate knowledge of his mother's quirks. How did she know that, anyway?
Suddenly, looking at his own reflection in Mrs. Jacobs' unassuming, piercing eyes, Alex dropped his guard.
"Look, I'm sorry," he said, "but, if you knew what people said about you...."
"That we're delusional? Mad, even?"
Alex nodded. "Yeah, exactly. And the things they say you believe..."
Mrs. Jacobs raised her brow and smiled a little. "Like what?"
"Well..." Alex began carefully, "in things that aren't real. Things that aren't...natural."
Jase laughed with a touch of scorn. "Natural...what is that, anyway?"
Mrs. Jacobs softly shook her head. "We do believe things that aren't natural to this world...to humans."
"Don't look that way," said Jase with a grin. "We don't believe in little green men or waiting around for the mother-ship to take us home, if that's what you're thinking."
"Then what do you believe?" asked Alex with growing frustration. He had the distinct impression that the Jacobs were withholding something from him.
"Would you like us to show you?" Taking his silence as concession, Mrs. Jacobs nodded and said, "Then we will. But first," she added, peeling off the tin-foil cover of the spiced meat casserole and spooning a helping onto Alex's empty plate, "let's eat. I can't talk over all of that noise your stomachs are making."
Once they had finished dinner (savory casserole, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes with gravy) over some light and pleasant conversation, Mrs. Jacobs turned again to Alex and asked, "Do you still want us to show you what we believe?" This time, she waited for his response.
Though part of him hesitated to become further involved with such a notorious family (what would Mark say?), Alex also had a gnawing curiosity about their beliefs. And he liked them. So, it was with a little surprise that he found himself nodding, "Yes."
Beaming, Mrs. Jacobs stood up, walked over to the polished bookcase, and returned with a thick, leather-bound volume that looked like it had been checked out of some ancient library from the Middle Ages. Her slender fingers opened the binding to a place marked by a satin gold ribbon attached at the spine.
"Hey, Mom, I just remembered that Alex told his step-dad he'd be home by nine."
"He won't mind if I'm a little late," Alex assured them. "Really." He wouldn't even know Alex had been gone at all, hopefully.
"Still, if it gets too close to the time, why don't you call him to make sure it's all right?" said Mrs. Jacobs, and Alex had no choice but to agree.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing at the leather volume.
"The very knowledge of our beliefs and an account of the one we serve." Mrs. Jacobs spoke reverently as she caressed the unmarked leather cover. She looked up to meet Alex's eyes with her own, and in them burned a deep tenderness. "I knew nothing of value before learning the truth held in these pages."
Alex swallowed uncomfortably.
"Look, Alex," Jase leapt in, noticing his response, "I was the most popular guy in school last year, captain of the varsity football team as a junior. I mean, I could have any girl--" Jase cast a nervous glance at his mother, who seemed not to notice, then continued, "All I'm sayin' is, I had everything you'd think a guy our age could want. It wasn't enough."
Alex had heard stories of the reputation of Jason Jacobs before he joined his mother in supposed lunacy last year. No one even took him seriously, anymore, and Alex was almost certain no girls would be caught dead with him at school, let alone go on a date with him. How could anyone go from Mr. Popular, to being seen only as some weird, cracked-up head-case?
"I gave up the most wanted things in life, because I found something that was worth way more than all that stuff could ever be."
Alex couldn't contain himself anymore. "What could possibly be worth giving up all that? I mean, if people liked me at school, or noticed me for once, even admired me, well; I think I'd do anything to have that. Maybe even sell my soul to--"
"STOP!" Mrs. Jacobs shouted, slamming her hand over the leather volume with a bang.
Alex's face blanched. Even Jase seemed shocked.
Mrs. Jacobs took a deep breath, her face softening. "Don't speak of your soul so lightly, Alex, please. Not jokingly. You don't understand what kind of power your words have, even unspoken...even unintentional."
For a moment no one spoke, then Jase broke the silence. "It's getting close to nine. I should take Alex home."
His mom nodded, tucking a loose strand of gold back into the half-ponytail she wore. "Let's continue another time. Would you like to join us for lunch tomorrow, Alex?" After a moment of consideration (his curiosity had hooked him), Alex gave a nod. "Great. Just give us a call when you want to come over." She rose to leave. "Jase, you can take my car. I'll get the keys."
"I think your clothes are done," Jase said, patting Alex on the back as he scraped his chair back and stood. "I'll go get 'em so you can change before we go."
With Mrs. Jacobs and Jase both out of the room, Alex was left in heavy silence. And, he noticed just then, with the huge, leather-bound volume on the table.
He glanced behind him to make sure he was still alone, then quickly picked up the book and opened it to the place marked by the gold ribbon. Perusing the pages, he stood up and wandered over to the bookshelf, his back facing the entrance just as Jase came in.
"Ready to change?"
Startled, Alex snapped the volume closed, accidentally tearing the page he'd been turning, and glanced over his shoulder as innocently as he could. "Yep! Just putting this back!"
He deftly shoved the ripped page into his pocket and slid the volume back into its place on the bookshelf.
"Pretty heavy, isn't it?" said Jase. "It's an easy read, though. I've lost myself for hours pouring over those pages, and I normally hate to read. I probably would have kept reading in the dark if I hadn't heard you yelling."
"That's the book you were looking for at the lake?"
"Yeah, only a smaller version." Jase's face became grim. "It was a gift...it's very special to me, and I plan to get it back." A smile returned to his face as he said, "Well, better change so I can get you back before you break your word."
"Oh...right."
Once Alex had changed, and he had thanked Mrs. Jacobs for a wonderful dinner, assuring her he would call tomorrow, he and Jase headed out in her white sedan.
About a block from his house, Alex called Jase to a halt. "You can let me off here."
"Is this your house?"
"Why else would I stop here?"
"Okay man, just checking. See you tomorrow!"
Alex walked up to the unknown porch and put his hand on the handle nervously. He glanced back at Jase, gave a wave to signal that all was well, and breathed a sigh of relief as the sedan drove away.
As soon as it was out of sight, Alex set off down the street toward his house.
As Alex rounded the corner of his street, however, he stopped. There, a few houses down, parked in his driveway, flashed the red and blue lights of a police car. Beside it stood two officers, one scribbling in a notebook while the other made hand gestures in conversation with a burly man who had his arms crossed in front of him.
"So much for going unnoticed..." he whispered to himself, cinching his backpack straps to his armpits and making the fated march to the driveway of his house. His stomach started twisting at the thought of facing Mark's anger again. He'd probably get another stern lecture about obeying the "family rules" and wouldn't be allowed out of his room for a week. Fine--he had a few books he'd wanted to read again, anyway. He'd be fine. Just fine.
The burly man lifted his scowling face as Alex approached and his eyes narrowed. "Alex. You've got some nerve..."
"It wasn't my fault!"
"Is this your son, sir?" asked the gesturing officer, who now motioned to Alex.
His step-dad caught Alex's arm in an iron grip, then turned to the officer and strained a smile.
"I can take it from here, Officers."
"Well, sure...we're glad everything turned out."
And that was all Alex heard from the officer, for his step-dad had escorted him briskly through the front door and shut it behind them before another word was spoken.
A red-haired, petite figure appeared at the bottom of the staircase, grinning impishly. "You're in trouuuuble..."
"Go to bed, Flora," commanded Mark, falcon nostrils flared.
"But, Dad, it's only--"
"Now!"
Flora bolted up the stairs two at a time, followed by the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut, and Alex was dimly aware of the police car's engine fading into the silence of the night as Mark slowly closed the blinds of the front window. Alex's heart pounded in his ears. His step dad was unusually quiet.
"I can explai--"
Lights danced in his vision as Mark's heavy hand struck him across the face, and Alex staggered back. Warm liquid ran beneath his nose, and he only had a glimpse of his stepfather's livid face before another blow knocked him to the floor.
Hot tears burned his eyes, his ears rang, and his limbs trembled as he tried to pick himself up to run. Mark was faster, laying hold of him roughly and spinning Alex around to face him.
"Haven't I told you?" His stepfather's voice, low and soft, shook with rage. "How many times have I told you?"
Alex, sobbing uncontrollably, couldn't respond.
"Answer me!" Mark yelled, slamming his back into the wall and shaking him. "How many times are you gonna disobey me?"
"I--I--" Alex gasped between the salty liquid sliding into his mouth, hardly able to breathe from panic.
"Stop crying, you baby!" Mark raised an open hand threateningly, his eyes flashing terribly. "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about."
Alex tried to contain himself, but continued to gasp and hiccough, tears streaming down his hot cheeks as he trembled in his stepfather's grip. "I--I'm...sorry...!" he managed, his eyes meeting Mark's, pleading for mercy.
"Sorry?"
Alex winced at the bruising pressure on his arms where his step-father tightened his grip, then the left arm eased as Mark reached aside to open the door to the basement next to them.
"Just like you were 'sorry' you got between your mom and me? I don't want to hear 'sorry,'" said Mark coldly. "I want to see it." He shoved Alex roughly through the open doorway, sending the boy tumbling into darkness. "And you'll stay in here until I think you understand what that word means."
His stepfather's hulking silhouette retreated and the wedge of light in the doorway shrank to a sliver as the door banged shut. A chain rattled and a lock clicked on the other side, then a cold silence followed, broken only by the pounding of Alex's heart and the rasping of his quieting sobs.
Alex spat, wiped his face carefully with his shirt-neck, and tilted his head back to slow the bleeding of his nose. Then he forced himself to take a deep breath through his mouth and exhaled, releasing the tension in his body with it.
Once his breathing steadied and Alex regained himself, he mumbled bitterly, "I'm not a baby. And don't talk about Mom."
His muscles stiffened as Alex pulled himself up the banister and worked his way slowly down the rest of the steps to the basement. Though his arms throbbed where his stepfather had gripped him and his body ached where he had fallen down the steps, the real pain came from the shame Alex felt in his heart--shame for being weak, for needing...
He didn't need a father. He'd lived without one for 8 years before Mark came along.
If Mark had only asked why, though, what had happened--just one question... The longing stuck in his heart like a piece of food in his esophagus.
After groping around in the cold air for a moment, he at last found the hanging light bulb in the center of the space and yanked on the chain. A pale light flooded the basement and flickered over the cluttered shelves and dusty cobwebs, then popped out in a blinding flash.
"Great," Alex muttered, the sound of his own voice somehow comforting. Setting his backpack down, he felt his way to one of the shelves and managed to locate a flashlight with just enough battery to emit a waning yellow beam.
He began to shiver from the chill in the basement, which cut through his thin micro-fleece jacket.
"Alex...Alex...."
Flora's whisper came through the basement door, and Alex quietly made his way up the stairs.
"Here..."
A piece of cloth stuck through the space between the floor and the bottom of the door. Alex pulled the blanket the rest of the way through, grateful that his step-sister had thought to bring his blue and green flannel one. His mother had given it to him.
He felt choked up for a moment as he clutched the flannel blanket to him. "Thanks, Flora..."
He could hear the awkward smirk in her voice as she whispered, "Don't say I never did anything for you, Alf. Gotta go...."
There was a quiet scuffle, a shadow passing over the crack of the door, and Alex was left alone once more.
He returned to the basement and, setting the flashlight down, spread the thin blanket on the floor in as clean a place as he could find, laid down, then folded it around him. Still cold, Alex slid his hands into his pockets for whatever extra warmth he could find there.
Something flimsy brushed against his hand. Grabbing it, he pulled out what appeared to be a crumpled piece of paper. It was the page he'd ripped from the leather-bound volume at the Jacobs'. He brought the flashlight closer and unfolded the paper, revealing carefully inked writing against a yellowing surface. It read:
"--your father. I have plans for you," says the King. "And they are for good, not disaster. They are plans to give you hope, a brighter future than even you can imagine for yourself. When you are ready to come home to me, call upon me--I will listen. I will show you the way if you look for me earnestly, but you must look. You will only find me when you seek me.
"Come home to me, Alex--" *
Alex did a double take and sat up, moving the flashlight closer to read the last line again.
"Come home to me, my child--"
Strange. He could have sworn he'd seen his name there. Still, even those words had a great impact on him. Some odd warmth had filled him upon reading the first few lines of the passage. It had only grown with each new syllable, so that now he no longer shivered, nor did his heart ache so strongly. It was like someone had poured a warm, healing salve over his body and soul.
Who had written this, and why? Was there really a good King no one could see, a father calling his children home? Alex wanted desperately to believe he had a home to be called back to, because this certainly wasn't it.
A thousand more questions entered his mind as Alex read the lines over and over, as if the words might change to reveal the answers. He had to know more.
A yawn interrupted his mental rampage, and Alex looked up from the page to hit the Indiglo button on his watch. Eleven o'clock. Jase was right about losing track of time when reading this thing.
Sleep called to him, luring him with its promise of escape from the events of the day. If he could only stay there in that oblivious world, he might be able to tolerate living; anything but this insignificant, meaningless, day-in and day-out existence.
Still...the words gave him hope.
Putting the paper carefully into his backpack, Alex balled up some of the blanket at his head to fashion a pillow and plopped his head down on it. The lingering warmth from his reading eased the cold and discomfort of Alex's circumstances, making sleep approach easily.
"Call upon me..." Alex remembered vaguely.
All right, King, he responded in his heart. If you're really there--if there really is a home waiting for me--show me how to get there. I want to come home.
And within moments, sleep took him.
A balmy breeze caressed his skin, curling around him like a string of feathers before soaring away, and Alex became dimly aware of a floating sensation in his body. He opened his eyes to find himself suspended in a mist of blue and gray, swirling gently with the soft currents of air.
A bright beam of light began to break through the haze ahead, hurting Alex's unadjusted eyes. Like a searchlight of molten gold, the beam roamed the blue-gray sky, and wherever the light passed, the mist shrank back, revealing blackness deeper than Alex had ever known. For some reason, he feared the light more than the blackness, but the beam kept searching, until at last it came so close to Alex he held his breath.
 Suddenly, the mist surrounding Alex coiled around him and snatched him out of the beam's path just as it passed where he had been. Again the golden light
approached him, and again the blue-gray wisps dragged him away from it,
but instead of feeling protected by the mist, Alex began to feel uneasy.
When the light came near this time, he tried to lift his arms from the
mist's coils to reach out, but they only wrapped themselves more tightly
around him and held him fast from it. His heart clenched in dread. Now the
light no longer seemed the enemy, and Alex knew instinctively that he had to
get inside that beam at all costs.
He prepared to make a sudden break at his bonds when the light approached
again, but as if they could read his intentions, the blue-gray tendrils squeezed
him so tightly his ribs cracked. Alex cried out in pain.
The searchlight stopped, only paces away.
Lungs heaving, Alex gasped for air while the mist folded itself around him
like a suffocating shroud and drew him into the blackness. With all the air left in him, Alex gave a final cry for help just as tendrils of blue-gray vapor streamed into his nose and mouth to smother both voice and breath.
His vision began to dim and his body grew weak from lack of oxygen, but just before Alex slipped into unconsciousness, a blinding flash filled the air. The binds on him loosened and the mist in Alex's body thrashed out of him with an audible shriek, melting instantly on contact with the golden beam of light washing over him.
Alex drew breath sharply, sitting up from his makeshift bed in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. The basement door had banged open, flooding sunlight onto the floor where Alex lay, and there at the foot of the stairs stood Mark, regarding him with disdain.
"Get up and clean off. Someone's at the door for you. Says his name is Tucker," his step-dad added with a knowing smirk. "Billy Tucker."
To be continued...
* Jeremiah 29:11-13 (NIV) 11 For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. (Return) |
