For All Eternity, Page 2

  Memories of the stunning woman had flooded his mind all weekend. Her feminine curves, long dark hair, and amber eyes captivated his thoughts. The way she took charge of the situation, accepted the blame, and didn't placate him with tears intrigued him.

  He shifted from the window and gathered up his suit jacket hanging over the chair. Trying to ignore the pain, he locked the door and hobbled down the hall. Tomorrow he'd go to her office and drop the scarf off with the receptionist. He wouldn't bother to talk to Joella—not that he didn't want to see her again.

  Yesterday after church services, he'd looked around on the outside chance she might be there. Who was he kidding? She didn't attend his place of worship, and there were no more branches in El Camino. Not dressing like women in his church should've been a clue.

  His wandering thoughts of getting better acquainted were fruitless. Flirting with her hadn't been a wise idea. He pushed the shiny metal down button next to the elevator, and the door slid open.

  The elevator floated to floor one. His father's admonition, don't become involved with a woman outside your religion, blared in his mind, as if Dad stood next to him. Tenets of the faith reminded him disobedience wasn't an option.

  With another stab of pain, he stepped out and tottered around the side of the building to his truck. At least he'd have a decent meal tonight with Mom cooking. Like an anchor in his uncertain existence, an invitation to dine with the family settled him.

  A light breeze made him shiver, so he slipped his suit-coat on. He clicked the locks and crawled in as fast as his bum leg would allow. When he turned the key, the lyrics of a Michael W. Smith song filled the truck's interior. Though his denomination discouraged any kind of music except classical and their church hymns, the song relaxed him. Hopefully, the CD didn't influence his Scale of Balance.

  Juniper Street led out of downtown El Camino. At the edge of the business district, he headed to his parents' neighborhood and ten minutes later pulled up in front of the familiar red brick house where he'd lived most of his life. His mom's flowerbeds, filled with spring blossoms, bordered the sidewalk.

  Instead of going through the garage, he opened the front door with his key. Even now, the house seemed more like home than his downtown condo, though he'd never want to move back in with Mom and Dad. He tossed his keys on the side table in the living room and hung his jacket on the wooden coat tree. "Hey, Mom."

  "I'm in here, honey."

  No surprise he found her in the kitchen. Two months after he'd moved out, he appreciated his mother more than ever—especially her delicious meals. He shuffled toward her and deposited a kiss on her forehead.

  Mom, with a white apron tied around her slender waist, straightened to her full height and turned from the pile of potatoes in the sink. "How's my sweet boy?" A kiss on his cheek accompanied her embrace.

  He hugged her back, shuffled to a chair at the round table, and eased down.

  "JD, what happened? Why are you limping?"

  "I guess I didn't see you at church yesterday. My leg started hurting so I left early." He ran a hand through his hair. "You won't believe it. I'm almost embarrassed to tell you. A woman on a bike ran over me Saturday before I left campus."

  A frown furrowed Mom's brow. "You look like you're in pain. Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine, Mom."

  With a scrutiny she reserved for one of her kids, she paced toward him and touched his shoulder. "Did you see a doctor?"

  "No, Mom. I don't need medical attention." His mother meant well, but even at his age she babied him.

  The back door slammed. "Hey, JD. What's up?" Tannon bounced in and dropped his backpack on the table. Then he coasted toward Mom and gave her cheek a peck.

  "Hello, Son." Her face lit up with pleasure. "How'd it go in school today?" She returned his kiss and went back to scrubbing potatoes.

  JD's brother rummaged through the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. "Okay. My history project at the library took longer than I thought. Eighth grade is a ton of work. What are you doing home, JD?"

  "Mom took pity on a poor starving bachelor and invited me for dinner." He shifted with a grimace. The pain was worse than Saturday.

  His sibling slid down at the table and took a long draw from the bottle.

  "How's my favorite bro?" JD tousled his hair.

  "I'm trying out for the basketball team. Wanna shoot some hoops later?"

  No doubt the kid would reach JD's height, with the potential of making a good player. "Not today. I injured my leg." His heart warmed as he surveyed Tannon's handsome profile. One of these days some young lady wouldn't be able to resist his little brother with those eyes the color of Mom's brownies and a nose that curved up at the end.

  "Okay, D. Hope you get better so I can teach you a thing or two on the court."

  "Hey." JD gave him a shoulder tap. "You wish."

  "Well, I'd better get started on my homework." Tannon smirked, snatched his backpack, and darted out of the kitchen.

  The garage door whirred and squeaked before the plop. When the door into the hall banged, JD's shoulders tensed. Maybe one day, he wouldn't shrink in intimidation from his father's presence and persistent reprimands.

  "Rawlin, we're in the kitchen." As usual, Mom paid attention to her husband's every need.

  Dad's middle-age pouch led the way as he trudged in. He hung his khaki jacket on the metal hook in the hall and dropped into the chair Tannon had occupied. "Hi, Marion. Hey, JD, how's it going?"

  So far, no questions leading to lectures or explosive discussions. Good. "Oh, work is keeping me busy."

  "It must really tie you up." Dad slouched in the chair and folded his hands behind his head. "I noticed you only show up at church on Sunday now. I never see you at the other activities during the week. How's your social life going? Got a girlfriend? There are plenty of candidates at church."

  "Do we really need to talk about this now?" No matter how he answered, he could never get things right with his father.

  "What better time than now? Besides, I never get to see you." His dad downed the glass of juice Mom had placed in front of him.

  "I know. I miss you guys, too." JD exhaled a heavy sigh. Dad hadn't always lectured. When JD was a kid, his father used to put him on his knee and read fairytales. Then they'd go out in the backyard to play ball. In his teens, they could talk about anything. Dad took him fishing and even taught him how to work on cars.

  After college, things changed. But JD knew the reason. He gulped down the lump in his throat. "Don't worry. I can't stay away from Mom's good cooking for long." Maybe if he lightened the air, Dad would ease up with his sermons.

  His father picked up the newspaper on the table, but his scrutiny drilled into JD. Dad sat up straight, his neck stiff as the bishop's when he spoke to the congregation. "So why aren't you doing more at church?"

  So much for no more reprimands. Tension worked its way up his spine. "Dad, my job demands—"

  "Get your life in perspective, son. What's the most important thing in this world?" His volume raised a notch.

  Mom jerked her face toward Dad and with a sigh, she circled back to her work. The peeler flew across the potato sending long, curly strips into the sink. She couldn't fix the situation as much as she probably wanted to.

  JD leaned back, but the hard-slatted kitchen chair offered no relief for his knotted muscles. "The church." His father and the elders had drummed it into his head forever.

  "There's so much you could do … teach a Sunday school class, volunteer to visit the sick, work as a scout leader, or even help out in the community. But above all, start seeking a wife among the eligible women at church."

  Dad's glare pinned JD. He was cornered with no means of escape. Perspiration formed on his brow. "I know. I'm going to try." JD wrapped his arms over his chest, his defenses on high alert.

  He wished he could shove his father and tell him to shut up. But he had to keep himself under control.

  Mom arranged silverw
are, napkins, and plates on the table. A furrow creased her brow but disappeared when she offered him a thin smile. "Glorilyn is at cheerleading practice tonight." No doubt Mom attempted to rescue him from Dad's interrogation.

  Tannon escaped the grilling for now because of his age, just like JD had, but Dad would probably start preaching at him in another three years or so. Glorilyn got off easier because she was a girl.

  He never caught his seventeen year-old sister at home. And when had he seen his married sister Arletta? It seemed like ages ago.

  "Son, how old are you now? Twenty-eight? That's disgraceful." Dad's voice pumped him again. "You should be married with children."

  "Okay, okay." JD raised his palm. "I'm going to try to do more." If he could, he'd say, "Give me a break, Dad. I'm doing the best I can. Girls don't swarm around me, you know." How could he get married if he hadn't felt attracted to any of the church women?

  He looked out the window toward the backyard. The peach tree that produced fruit year after year shaded the area. The neatly manicured lawn reminded JD of how much his father cared about the family. JD's frustration ebbed a bit. Though Dad's approach seemed gruff, he always knew best.

  If JD followed the teachings of the church more diligently, the empty feeling he didn't like to acknowledge would go away. If he'd attend the annual conferences in Portland or even volunteer to do something as simple as polishing the eleven founders' brass statues behind the front altar, he'd feel better. He cherished Exalted Father and wanted—no, needed to know him better, to experience that relationship so many in the congregation professed.

  Mom's voice broke into his thoughts. "Come on, you guys. Let's eat. Dinner's getting cold."

  *****

  An injured leg hadn't affected JD's appetite. He devoured mashed potatoes and gravy, meatloaf, green beans, and cornbread, and finished off with the apple cobbler and ice cream for dessert. At two hundred pounds and six foot two, he always seemed hungry. He pushed away from the table after his father left the kitchen to tinker in the garage.

  "I'm ready for kitchen duty, Mom. Let me clean up while you rest."

  "No, honey. I'm fine with this. You've had a hard day. Why don't you relax?" She rose from her chair and picked up a couple of plates.

  "All right, then. I may take a walk down the block. If you're sure." The park near the house beckoned, especially since he had thinking to do.

  Mom waved the back of her hand. "Go. Unwind. I know your job is stressful."

  He pecked her check. "I love you."

  His old fleece pullover hung in the closet. He threw it on and stepped outside.

  A deep breath of cool evening air alleviated some of the day's tension. What better way to deal with stress than allow nature's healing touch to soothe him. Thanks to the Father and the truths he'd learned, he knew better than to dull life's pressures with alcohol or drugs like the misinformed population of the world. His religion granted him wisdom, made him smarter. Isn't that what Dad always said?

  He took one painful step off the front porch and tottered down the sidewalk.

  "Lori, I told you, my church doesn't allow it. Drugs are a waste of time." His sister's voice drifted to him from somewhere toward the side of the house.

  Every muscle in JD's body tensed. The word drugs sent disquieting alarm to his nerves. What could she be talking about?

  With her back to him and partially hidden by the pine tree in the side yard, Glorilyn leaned against the trunk with a cell phone to her ear. Since her parked car sat in front of the house, she must've returned from cheerleading practice.

  "I can't just ignore the rule once. I'll get in big trouble."

  JD held his breath. Her conversation disturbed him. Taking drugs? Surely not. But it sounded like she stood up for her beliefs.

  His ears radiated heat. Listening to his sister's private discussion generated a guilty jab to his chest.

  "The Wall? I don't know, Lori. I'll have to think about it."

  Think about it? His sister would never be caught dead there. Not in that sleazy part of town where drug deals went down.

  JD couldn't remain there listening. He took a few more painful steps on the sidewalk toward the park. Nah. His sister knew better. Hadn't she learned the church's teachings all her life? She'd never risk damage to her Scale for anything as stupid as ingesting drugs.

  The park a block from the house drew him with its tall maples and walking trails. The sun dipped behind the western hill casting a muted glow on the trees. Worrying about Glorilyn didn't do any good.

  He filled his lungs with air again. Creation of earth was incomprehensible. He could only describe it as fiery and chaotic. The metamorphosis from a cloud of cold dust particles to the earth we know today seemed incredible.

  He couldn't deny the Father existed. The truth blew his mind. Exalted Father had once been a man like him, yet of all the males on earth, he'd done more good than any other. No wonder when he died, another exalted god, who existed before Exalted Father on a distant planet, assigned him a heavenly position as a ruler over JD's earth. There, Exalted Father discovered his godhood. JD could achieve this position someday, too, and rule over his own planet. He puffed out his chest.

  A crow's raucous squawk yanked him back to reality. Godhood didn't come without effort. To gain prominence in heaven, he must stay on the positive side of the Scale of Balance, ensuring that his good deeds outweighed his bad.

  Ledger sheets at work paralleled the concept … with assets on one side and liabilities on the other. He had to make sure his credits always exceeded his debits. After so many years on this earth, he'd receive his eternal rewards. Didn't he want to live in that glorious realm?

  Though his leg hurt, he staggered farther down the path. A woman with a long blond ponytail jogged toward him. She glanced up with a flirtatious smile … so different from the modest women in his congregation.

  The trail to the frog pond led through redberry bushes. Croaks and ribbits made him smile. He lowered himself to the ground beside the pond, trying to avoid bumping his sore leg. Closing his eyes, he clasped his head in his hands.

  Away from his father, he could let go of his defenses. He didn't want to admit it, but familiar doubts overwhelmed him with more force than usual.

  He had to take ownership of his empty life. The misgivings stemmed from inactivity with the church. His father's accusations rang in his head— not being involved—not doing enough good. Yet the question always plagued him. How much was enough?

  Somewhere in the distance, a dove called to its mate. The sound soothed him, but not enough to prevent the pesky tear that rolled down his cheek. He wiped his face with his sleeve, glad he was alone.

  Longing consumed his heart … but for what? Why couldn't he find fulfillment?

  I need to know more about you. I need a clearer picture of you. Exalted Father, where are you?

  Chapter Three

  JD's heart melted when she leaned over tending his wound. The sun shone on her face, and she squinted in the strong light. An errant strand of long dark hair caressed his arm. Peace radiated from her amber eyes—the peace he'd always sought. But peace couldn't come from a woman—especially a woman not of his faith. It had to emanate from the Father and within the church.

  Joella stood and took tentative steps away, her eyes questioning something. But what?

  JD shot up in bed and peeked at the clock on the nightstand. Either he'd turned the alarm off or forgotten to set it.

  Forty-five minutes to get to work. He groaned and dragged his legs over the side of the bed. The wound throbbed. His first step sent pain coursing down his calf.

  He rubbed two fists over his eyes. The dream settled in his brain, slowly, like a silent mist enveloping him, leaving him confused. Strange.

  Breakfast and meditational reading were out of the question today. He showered, protecting the wound, shaved, and threw on his suit. Next time he'd set two alarms, ten minutes apart.

  Tapping his toe didn't hel
p the elevator move any faster from his third floor condo to the ground level of The Palms. He hadn't been late for work so far and didn't intend to start now. Taking one's obligations seriously meant so much. He couldn't afford to slip on his job performance and lose points—both with his boss and the Scale.

  Why did he have to hit all the red lights in downtown El Camino today? Finally, he parked his truck on the side of the Ormond Building. For a second, he fingered the soft, satiny scarf still lying on the seat. Probably as smooth as her silky hair. He had to return it today.

  The elevator ascended with a whirl and stopped at the second floor. He limped down the hall to his office. Two reports were due to the CEO of Sherman Auto. If he finished that, he needed to prepare a balance sheet for Mr. Grant. When his computer booted up, he opened Sherman's file to study the figures. Though the memory of his sister's phone conversation still pressed him, he had to get some work done.

  *****

  Later, JD's stomach growled, and he glanced at his watch. Wow, already eleven-thirty. He'd been juggling numbers and financial statements for what seemed like days.

  When he stood, stretching his arms out, his gaze fell on the family portrait. Tannon's fat cheeks made him chuckle. That little fellow had grown up so fast. JD would be the first to admit his prejudices, but he couldn't help but believe his sibling was more mature for his twelve years than most.

  Stomach growling again, he put his computer on sleep and limped down the hall past Mr. Grant's closed office door to the elevator.

  Outside the building, he clicked the remote lock and climbed into his truck. First, he'd return the scarf then grab something for lunch … maybe a sandwich somewhere.

  After a few blocks drive, a wide parking space in front of New Trend Interiors opened up. What would it hurt to ask for Joella at the receptionist desk? He rubbed his forehead. No. He'd made up his mind not to see her. Folded pink fabric lay loosely in his hand, reminding him of clouds over the frog pond the evening before. He gripped the scarf and stepped out of his truck. A curved walkway led to the front entrance.

  The office complex, smaller than his, had to be one of the most elegant buildings in El Camino with its angular wood and glass construction. A metal double door led inside the well-designed entry with two-toned brown walls, trey ceilings, and discreet indirect lighting.