Saving Jack. Chapter 29

29

Angela insisted that they all consider eating outside on the deck, having become emotionally attached to the lake. “Is it too chilly to eat outside?” she had begged. Liz seconded the motion, and before long everyone was devouring the Mercantile’s finest around the weather-beaten dinner table, which was only a few years old but looked like an antique after exposure to the worst Maine had to offer. 

Jack and Starla had held back for a moment as everyone made their way outside. Starla said, “Looks like all the flights out tomorrow are booked, so I’ll have to wait until Monday. Maybe you can take me back to my hotel for the night . . . looks like this place is going to be packed.”

Jack looked momentarily stunned by the suggestion, as if it had never entered his mind that he would have to face this confrontation without her. “Please don’t go,” he pleaded, sounding wounded and slightly pathetic. “I don’t want to do this alone. Go get your things and move them into my room. David and Liz can sleep up there, and Kevin and Angela can use the loft.”

Starla’s soft smile was enough of an answer. The relief on Jack’s face was palpable. Starla reached for his hand and gave it a gentle tug; then they walked out on the deck to join the others.

Angela was in the middle of asking Bobby a question. “Excuse me, Bobby, but did I hear you say that the ramp has wheels?” Angela appeared aghast at the possibility.

Everyone laughed at the question. Kevin explained, “Angela, how do you think we get that big-ass thing into the water every year? It weighs a ton. We roll it in and out at the beginning and end of every season. You can’t just leave it in there all winter. The lake freezes over.”

Bobby turned to Liz and said in a loud voice, “Kevin’s got a girlfriend!”

Liz giggled. “I know, Bobby . . . can you believe it?”

Starla helped herself to a slice and listened to the banter back and forth, surprised at the special bond that seemed to exist between Jack’s kids and this odd-looking caretaker. She watched him devouring his pizza, face aglow with contentment, fitting in with them like an old uncle. She leaned over and whispered to Jack, “You didn’t tell me you had a second son!” Jack smiled, then rolled his eyes.

After the pizza was gone, the sun climbed higher in the sky, and the warmth spread out onto the entire surface of the deck. The glow signaled that it was now about 1:30, and the lake side of the cabin was now in full, unfiltered sunlight. It had grown noticeably warmer. Everyone was on their second or third beer, completely emptying Jack’s supply. 

Kevin’s loud voice pierced the calm. “So, Bobby . . . I’ve got a question for you.” All eyes flickered to Kevin. Something commanding about his tone of voice had changed the dynamic. “Do you believe in God?”

Bobby had suddenly become shy and halting. “Gee, Kev, I don’t know much about religion.”

“And neither does anyone else, Bobby, especially religious people. It’s actually a pretty simple question. Do you believe in God, or don’t you?”

“Well, sure I do . . . I think.”

“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, big guy.”

“No, Yes. Sure I believe in God.”

“Okay, this God you believe in—what’s he like?”

The deck was now an awkward place. Everyone was trying to figure out what Kevin was up to, why he would ask such a question of Bobby, a man renowned for not spending much time pondering deep thoughts.

“See, Starla here believes in an Old Testament God, a god who carries a hammer with him and isn’t afraid to use it when you screw up. But Dad, no . . . Dad is totally a New Testament God guy, a god who forgives and offers grace no matter what despicable thing you do. I was just wondering where you fall in this debate. How about it, Bobby? What’s your God like?”

Bobby took his last bite of pizza and then looked around at everyone staring at him, expectant, waiting for his answer. Liz seemed annoyed that he’d been put in such a position, flashing an angry glare at her brother. Jack warily glanced at Starla, recognizing the language his son had used, knowing now what the two of them had been discussing on the dock. David gazed out at the lake, looking like he wished he was anywhere else. Angela kept cutting her eyes back and forth around the deck, trying to pick up clues from everyone’s faces. What was happening here?

Bobby began, “Like I said before, Kev . . . I don’t know much about religion. But my mom and dad made me go to church every Sunday when I was a boy, so I learned some stuff. I don’t go to church much now since they passed and all . . . but I go sometimes. I guess what I think is that God is like both of the things you said. I remember in Sunday School, the teacher would always tell us that we were all God’s children, and God was our father. Well, I’m not a father. I’ve never had no kids. But I bet if I did, I would want to protect them from doing stupid things . . . you know, like touching a burning fire. So when they was too young to know better, I would have to use the hammer, like you said, to make sure they stayed away from the fire. But once they grew up some and could figure out things for themselves, I would want to forgive them when they messed up. I wouldn’t want to crush them every time they made a mistake. I think maybe that’s what God is like. Tough when we need him to be and merciful when we need mercy.”

Everyone had fallen silent as an almost reverent peace settled around them. Bobby’s words had managed to still the air, to sap all the confrontation from the atmosphere. Jack looked at Starla’s face and noticed the tears forming. All of his children appeared transfixed by Bobby’s theology, hanging on every word.

“Another thing . . . when I was little, I was kinda afraid of my dad. Because he was the one who would tan my hide when my mom caught me doing stupid stuff. But when I got older, my dad and me became more like friends. He was still my dad and all, and I guess I always was a little bit afraid of him, of what he would think of me if I did something bad. See, I never wanted to disappoint him because he was my dad and I loved him. But when I was older, Dad was much more like a friend. Maybe that’s what God’s like, too . . . a really hard teacher when we’re young but then more like a dear friend when we get older. But if what they taught me in Sunday School is true and God is our father, I would think that he loves us like my dad loved me. He wants the best for us, wants us to do good and be good.” 

Bobby paused and glanced around the room, noticing that nobody was looking at him. Everyone seemed lost in thought, in their own world, eyes focused on something unseen. He waited for someone to speak, to respond to him and let him know that he was done . . . but there was only silence. He continued.

“So, yeah, I suppose that God carries a hammer around still, because there’s plenty of people doing stupid stuff. But I also think he’s looking for a reason to forgive us, too, because like all good dads, he wants his children to be happy. Hope that answers your question, Kev, because that’s all I got . . . ”

The only sounds were the gentle lapping of small waves against the shore and the tingle of the windchimes hanging from the birch tree. Tears flowed down Starla’s cheeks in a steady stream. 

Then, Kevin’s chastened voice: “And that, Dad, is why Bobby needs a raise.”