For new readers to this story, I linked Chapter 1. Chapters 2 - 4 are linked under September, 5 - 10 under October, 11 - 18 under November, 19 - 27 under December, 28 - 34 under January 2019, and 35 - 36 under February.
Destination Hope – Book 5 – Reconciliation
A Novel By:
Charles J. Patricoff
Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.
Chapter 37
Testimony
Rumors speculating Judge Hogan’s decision regarding the case of Merritt versus Graham flooded the Harpeth River Valley as if the 100-year torrential rains had settled over Franklin, Tennessee. Two weeks passed—still no word from the court. The Franklin Herald printed every word of gossip it could find criticizing the Grahams. Nathaniel and Eleanor had thus far kept the news from reaching their son’s ears. But with each new day, Nathaniel could read the growing anxiety in the deepening etchings across the forehead of his dear wife.
The Graham’s attorney, Mr. T. J. Eubanks, prepared his clients for the worst possible outcome. Nathaniel struggled with how to prepare his family. His main worry was: How do I tell William, this boy I’ve raised, that another man is his father?
The Graham family took their usual places at the dinner table. Nathaniel prepared to say grace. The bounty resting before him resulted from his friend Marvin Jenkins’ generous livestock offer, back-breaking hours working the land, and the creative cooking talents developed by his lovely bride of over five years. The sweet, saucy aroma of the slow-cooked, pulled pork drove Nathaniel to a quicker than normal blessing.
“We thank You, dear Lord, for the gifts we are about to receive. In the precious and powerful name of Jesus, we all say, amen.”
Both Eleanor and William repeated the closing “Amen.”
Eleanor raised her head and Nathaniel noticed her face scrunch with a challenging expression. William began to play with his mashed potatoes, piling them on top of the shredded pork.
Nathaniel took a forkful of pork and shoved it in his mouth. His eyes closed as he savored the flavors. “Oh, my—thank You, Lord.” He opened his eyes. “Ellie, you have outdone yourself.”
She had yet to take her first bite. “Husband, I have some questions regarding one of the letters you wrote to me when you decided to stay with your men until you all received a proper parole.”
A sudden uneasiness swept over Nathaniel. He never knew what Eleanor would do or say next and, to his grave misfortune, his memory lacked historical clarity, a talent she possessed that often worked against his personal interests. I wish I could remember what I wrote. He gazed across the dinner table at William, still mixing his mashed potatoes with the pork. The boy might be onto something there. Then he choked, “Which letter, darling?”
“It was the one where you wanted me to know how you came to trust in Jesus as your Savior and Lord.”
A wave of relief, like a rising tide lifting a ship above a potential, damaging reef, helped Nathaniel breathe much easier. “What, for example?”
“Well, let me see if I remember what you wrote. You described that terrible accident your first Christmas away at college and how it seemed odd to you that everyone in the stage coach and your friend sustained injuries, but you suffered a small bump on your forehead. Is that right?”
“Yes, I did think it strange. It occurred to me the next day. And as I thought about the crash many times thereafter, I could not comprehend how I wasn’t killed, let alone unhurt for all practical purposes.”
“I admit,” Eleanor said, tilting her head twice in William’s direction, “I found that part of your story fascinating, and almost too unbelievable to be true, but it was what happened later that I found even more interesting.”
William took a forkful of potatoes and pork and dropped it on the floor. Bailey scurried to lap up the treasure.
Eleanor commented, “This son of yours…”
“Our son.”
“He’s your son when he misbehaves.” Eleanor rushed to clean up William’s mess. “William, if you don’t stop playing with your supper, I’ll ask your father to have a long talk with you.”
William looked at his dad.
Nathaniel reinforced his wife’s threat. He faked a mean look at William.
“I’ll be good. I won’t throw my food on the floor no more.”
Eleanor put both hands on her hips. “Very well then. Father,” Eleanor said. “I don’t think further instruction is needed. Do you?”
William shook his head.
“Maybe,” Nathaniel said. “I’m watching you, young man.”
William slumped on the bench seat. Bailey pawed at his leg like he wanted more offerings tossed his direction. He barked.
“That will be enough out of you, too, Bailey.”
Bailey looked at his master with his well-practiced sad eyes as if to say, “What did I do?”
“All right son. Your father has an important story to tell us, and I suggest you listen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now sit up straight and pay attention. You keep talking,” she said to Nathaniel. “I’m going to find that letter.”
Nathaniel, William, and Bailey watched the queen of the Graham homestead cross the room and enter the bedroom. What sounded like a rummaging treasure hunt followed.
Nathaniel took a bite of his dinner and pointed at William’s plate. “Sure is good. You don’t know what you’re missing. Well my boy, where should I begin?”
“Tell me about the crash, Pa.”
“But I’ve told you that before.”
“I know, Pa, but I like hearing it.”
Eleanor re-entered the main room. “Maybe later. That’s not the part I want you to hear and understand right now.”
William frowned and his lower lip protruded. “Yes, ma’am.”
After becoming a student of Eleanor’s expressions, Nathaniel caught the command issued behind her deep brown eyes. He offered a slight nod and choked down another morsel. He moved a pitcher of water, shoved the salt and pepper shakers to his left, and reached for his tin cup and took a sip.
Then he began. “I think it would be good for me to tell what happened about one month later.” He leaned to his right, closer to William, and so he could have a clear line-of-sight around Eleanor’s fresh-cut flowers. “But I also think William should know that there was a time when I didn’t know God, nor did I believe in Him.” Nathaniel glanced at his bride.
Eleanor’s eyes drifted up and beyond her husband’s right ear, shifting like she read something printed on the wall separating the living space from the bedroom. “I agree. It is appropriate that William understand all of us must come to a personal comprehension of who God is, who we are, and why we need Him.”
As if to declare his boredom with the conversation, Bailey moseyed toward the braided rug by his master’s chair, spun around several times, and plopped down. In seconds, his breathing became heavy and steady, almost snoring.
William rested his left cheek on his left fist, with his elbow planted on the cloth-covered table. This brought a stern expression from his mother. He rolled his eyes, sat erect, and folded his hands the way he’d been taught. At least, he appeared prepared to listen.
Nathaniel presented his back-story. “You see, William, even though my parents tried to instruct me in God’s word—” he patted his Bible resting to the left of his scrap-speckled dinner plate— “His ways, and godly living, I didn’t always believe what they said, or what I read.” He gestured toward Eleanor. “I’m confident, your mother might say the same thing.”
“Indeed,” she said.
“Really?” asked William.
“It’s normal for all of us to doubt and to question whether or not God is,” Nathaniel said to William. “In fact, I can show you passages where men, long ago, became great because they learned to put their trust in God, but at times doubted, or did not believe in Him at all. And one of our nation’s founding fathers, Thomas Jefferson, once wrote, ‘Question with boldness everything, even the very existence of God. For if God is, surely, He would rather us question if He is, over blind obedience.’ Son, I believe a day will come when you will face this yourself. It will be the most important decision you will ever make, and no one can decide for you. The sooner you begin thinking about it, even at your young age, the better you will be as a boy, and in time, a man.”
A blank expression surface on William’s face. Nathaniel appealed to Eleanor with his eyes and recognized that now familiar “Get on with it” look. “When I neared age fifteen, I wanted my own horse. I prayed real hard and asked God to give me a horse for my birthday. When I didn’t get one, I became angry and I decided that God must not exist. I now know that it wasn’t very smart of me. I’ve learned that thinking of my selfish wants is foolishness.”
Eleanor cleared her throat giving him the “hurry it along” message again.
“Anyway, a few years later, I sat by the lake beyond the ridge west of here. The day seemed brighter than I could remember. I can’t explain what appeared different about it, but if I close my eyes, I can still see the flock of birds flying above the water.”
“What kind of birds?” William asked.
Nathaniel shrugged and admitted with a silly grin. “I don’t know what they were, and they flew toward the hills on the other side of the lake. Somehow I concluded that all that beauty had to come from God.”
“Is that when you accepted, Jesus?”
“No. Let’s say it was the first step on a long journey. I’ll take you to that spot and show it to you. Would you like that?”
“Yes sir. When can we go?”
Bailey popped up, apparently responding to William’s excitement.
Nathaniel attempted to restore calm and order. “Soon, son—soon.” I hope we’ll be able to go often, God willing. “But for now, let’s finish this story, and you need to finish your dinner.”
Eleanor shuffled over to Nathaniel’s end of the table. As she reached for his plate, she asked, “And what about you, are you finished?”
Nathaniel glanced at the few remaining scraps of green beans mixed with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “Yes, thank you.” He pushed his chair away from the table. In an effort to sit in a more formal, yet relaxed and comfortable position. He crossed his legs. It sure would be nice to savor a fresh cigar after a fine meal like that. But, I have a higher priority at the moment. He scratched his head. “Where did I leave off?”
“You sat by the lake,” William said.
Nathaniel smiled. I haven’t lost him. “I can’t remember a prettier day.” He hummed reflecting on that special time. “Anyway, about six months later, I started college”
“What’s college?”
“It’s a school where young men can pursue a higher education.”
“You’ll start school next year, William,” Eleanor said,
“Will I go to college?”
Nathaniel laughed. “Not at first. College is for older boys. I believe mothers and fathers send their boys to college, hoping they will finish growing up and become men.”
“Do they?”
“Do they what?”
“Become men?”
Nathaniel laughed again. “Not all. Some never seem to or want to become men.”
Nathaniel heard Eleanor mutter something like, “That’s the truth,” as she stacked the dirty dishes, but he wasn’t sure.
“So I went to college in Knoxville, and you know the story about the Christmas crash about three months after that.”
“Yes, sir. I still wish you’d tell that part.”
Eleanor stood at the kitchen washbasin and twisted her head, scowling at Nathaniel.
Nathaniel caught her glance. “Maybe I’ll tell you that part again when I take you to the lake while we do some fishing.”
The rambunctious five-year-old nodded with noticeable energy, grinning.
“You need a haircut young man.” Eleanor touched a lock of his hair. “Those brown curls of yours make you look too much like a homeless, street urchin.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Nathaniel said. He mussed William’s hair even more. “So, do you want me to continue, or save it for another day?”
William yawned and tried to ask through it, “Ma, can pa tell me his story when we go fishing?”
Eleanor frowned. She pulled Nathaniel’s letter from her apron pocket and examined it as if it contained something of great value. “I did want you to hear your father’s story before going to bed tonight.”
“What part?” Nathaniel asked.
“The part when the man spoke to you in the restaurant.” She checked with William. “Can you listen to your pa while I finish cleaning?” She threw her dishtowel over her left shoulder and asked Nathaniel, “Can you get to the point?”
Nathaniel nodded. He got it—no more fishing tales. “Okay. I’ll get right to that part of the story.”
“Let me help.” Eleanor extracted the letter from the envelope, paged through it, then read aloud:
“It was about one month after I returned to school—late January. Barry had recovered from his injuries well enough to join our other friend, Larry, for supper at a roadside inn near the campus. I looked across the restaurant’s dining room and I noticed a strange-looking man. He stood by the counter where patrons paid their dinner checks.”
Eleanor lowered the letter. “Can you continue from there, husband?”
“Sure can. William, I want you to know that the man didn’t dress funny or wear unkempt hair. In fact, he appeared cleaner than most. Imagine a smoky room full of people who look like we do after working the field all day long.”
“They’d be pretty dirty.”
“That’s right. Something drew my attention to him, but I can’t tell you what that might have been. I must have stared at this curious-looking man for a while—I don’t know for how long. But all of a sudden, he turned his head and his eyes locked on mine. His stare seemed to pierce right through me, like I’d been shot.”
William’s jaw dropped.
Eleanor interrupted, correcting, “Close your mouth, young man.”
Nathaniel grinned. “I admit, being caught staring at someone is bad enough…”
“And don’t let me catch you doing it,” Eleanor said.
“I’ll try to behave,” Nathaniel said. “But son, something about the man’s eyes scared me, like he knew everything about me, so I dropped my head, fast and started eating my food even faster.”
“Then what happened?” Eleanor asked excitedly.
“I heard a man’s voice ask…”
“May I sit down?” The clean-shaven, well-groomed, almost perfectly proportioned man stood like a marble statue by the table.
Nathaniel looked at his two college friends, Barry and Larry. He appealed with his eyes. The two boys did not catch his unspoken plea for help. Receiving no objections, Nathaniel raised his head and allowed his eyes to meet the piercing, penetrating eyes of the stranger. Nathaniel gestured at the open seat across from him and stuttered, “S-s-sure.”
“Thank you.” The new addition to dinner eased into the seat, keeping his eyes fixed on Nathaniel. With a clear baritone he asked, “How are you?”
Nathaniel came within inches of taking another bite of the well-prepared marbled beef but placed his full fork onto his plate and responded, “Well, thanks.” He glanced at his friends. They said nothing.
“You aren’t from these parts, are you?”
How does he know? “Not exactly. I grew up west of here near Nashville in a small town called Franklin.” The unusual man captivated Nathaniel’s reserved nature. A sense of ease enveloped him.
“Are you attending the university?”
Nathaniel attempted to draw his friends into the conversation. “We all do.”
The stranger nodded, his eyes still locked on Nathaniel. “What are you studying?”
Nathaniel responded for his companions. “Larry is taking general education courses.”
Larry cocked his head in the direction of the stranger, but the stranger did not budge.
Nathaniel finished his thought. “He doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life.” As if I do. “Barry likes working with numbers.”
“What are you studying?” the man repeated.
Nathaniel swallowed, almost embarrassed. He is just speaking to me, as if Barry and Larry do not exist. “World history,” Nathaniel said, tentatively.
“Good. What have you learned about Jesus?”
The question caught him off guard. “I-I-I’m not sure,” he said sheepishly.
“Pa?” William asked.
“What’s the matter, son?” Nathaniel allowed this pause to the story anticipating that the boy might raise an issue monumental in his young mind.
“Did that man…” William’s puppy-dog sad eyes seemed to search the dinner table for the right word. He sighed.
Nathaniel tried to fill in the blank. “Did he introduce me to Jesus?”
William brightened. “Yes, did he?”
Nathaniel smiled and said, “No.”
William’s eyebrows lowered, appearing more confused. “But how?”
“One of my two friends, Barry…”
“The one from the crash?”
“Yes. Barry had finished his dinner and started smoking a cigar.” I’d like one now.
Nathaniel reached for his cup of water and took a quick drink. It failed to moisten his parched mouth that seemed to grow desert dry with each passing second. He tried to avoid the subject, but the confident presence across the table remained focused on him and, in some indiscernible way, in control of events. Nathaniel noticed one attribute. He became convinced.
This man never blinks, and he’s demanding an answer. Nathaniel choked a weak explanation. “I-I-I mean, the historical records tell us he existed. One of the ancient historians—I think his name was Josephus—wrote a brief comment about Jesus, but he didn’t indicate that Jesus was anything special, or deserving of much attention.”
“Is that a fact?”
“That’s how my professor put it anyway.”
The man seemed to study every line, blemish, and whisker of Nathaniel’s face. “I see. Do you ever question your professors? You don’t have to answer. Did you read what Josephus wrote?”
“I don’t remember the specific issue.” Nathaniel said. “The man wrote volumes.”
The stranger said, “Josephus recorded, ‘Now there was about this time, Jesus, a wise man, if it be lawful to call him a man, for he was a doer of wonderful works, a teacher of such men as receive the truth with pleasure.’ What do you think he meant when he stated, ‘If it be lawful to call him a man?’ Did you ever give that comment any thought?”
Nathaniel hoped that one of his friends might come to his aid, but Larry kept eating and Barry seemed lost in his own world smoking his cigar. Sitting cattycorner from him, Nathaniel thought he caught an apparent head-bob from Larry’s apricot, bushy mussed hair as if to say, “Answer him.”
Nathaniel’s mind raced through several possible replies. He didn’t expect he’d be challenged to think about anything this evening, let alone something that has baffled mankind for millennia. Who is this man, Jesus of Nazareth? Was he a man? What else could he have been? He lived, did some good things, angered some folks, and the Romans executed him. That’s the end of it. But was he a man? Why did I stare at this man in the first place?
Then, he recalled another part. Didn’t Josephus write that he appeared to them—his followers—alive again?
Honesty prevailed. “No, I didn’t. As I think about it now—I don’t know what to think.”
The man pulled a black-leather, well-worn Bible from his lap and placed it on top of the table. “Maybe you should…”
At that moment, a wheat colored, curly haired waitress came to their table. “I see you have another friend. Would you like me to tell you what we’re serving tonight?”
“Would it be too much trouble to have a glass of milk, Miss?” The stranger asked, with a smile and a kind, bright-eyed expression.
“You’re not eating, sir?”
“I’ve already eaten, Miss, but, I would enjoy a glass of fresh milk.”
“Very well, sir.” She scanned her other patrons. “And what about you gentlemen? Can I bring you something else—some dessert perhaps? Our baker made some delicious apple pie, just the right balance between tart and sweet. Would anyone like me to bring a slice?”
Thank God. I hate being the only one trying to answer this man’s questions. Why doesn’t he ask Barry or Larry? Then another thought challenged his core. Who is God? Why would I even think to thank Him? I’m not sure God…
The pleasant waitress interrupted Nathaniel’s reverie. “What about you?”
“Uh, nothing for me, thanks,” Nathaniel said, snapping back into the present.
She grinned and with a gracious tone summarized. “Okay, I have one glass of milk, a piece of cherry pie for you,” she pointed her pencil at Larry, “a slice of fresh apple pie for you,” she gave a single nod at the heaviest table mate, Barry, “and nothing for you.” An inviting smile surfaced. “Are you sure? This is your last chance.”
“I’m sure,” Nathaniel said.
“All right, then, I’ll be right back.” She pivoted and disappeared toward the kitchen somewhere behind Nathaniel.
Even with the much-needed distraction, Nathaniel’s mind seemed stuck in some sensory, muddy pothole. His brain raced at full speed. His thoughts spun going nowhere. He stared at his plate. He could almost feel the man’s penetrating eyes. Somehow, he understood this man would not leave without a satisfactory response.
When his eyes met the stranger’s piercing, sparkling-with-life, windows to the soul, Nathaniel held nothing back. “I have had my doubts about the very existence of God. In my math and science classes, my professors have made strong cases that only uneducated and unenlightened men hold fast to myths regarding a divine Creator.”
“That’s right,” Barry said, blowing out cigar smoke.
Undeterred by Barry’s interruption, Nathaniel said, “But not long ago, I had a sense that they are wrong, despite their elevated credentials, in fact, they might be arrogant.”
The smiling waitress brought the milk and pie. After setting the servings, she asked, “Can I get anyone anything else?” No answers.
As she left, the heavyset Barry said, “I’ll take a cup of coffee, now.”
Larry rolled his eyes. “You always pull this just when we’re either ready to go, or like this time. The poor girl is trying to take care of other customers, you know. You’re not the only diner here.”
Nathaniel noticed something else about the stranger. He seems oblivious to the squabble brewing to his right. Nathaniel watched the stranger opened his Bible to the book of Isaiah and found chapter 53. He seemed to control all natural reflexes. He said nothing and gave no indication he would interrupt the disputing pair. He didn’t even blink.
But Nathaniel blinked. He had reached the point of his confession. “So, to answer your question, I have looked at the beauty of the world, all of the different forms of life, the rocks and hills, the valleys, streams and lakes, the variety of animals, and I decided that there must be a Creator.”
Barry choked and almost spewed his last sip of water onto Larry.
Larry shouted, “Hey, watch it. Now, look what you’ve done, Nate! You almost caused him to choke to death. That’s the second time you’ve tried to kill him.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes at his comedic companions and resolved to release his final thought before it slipped away, forever. “There must be a designer that put all that surrounds us into motion. But, I honestly do not know who or what God is.”
The stranger nodded. “He knows you, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel heard the words, but they didn’t register.
The stranger added, “You are very close to God. You just don’t know it yet.”
This time the message punched a hole through all of Nathaniel’s natural defenses. An army of certainty poured through, taking all other thoughts captive. Doubts remained, but he heard and faced the truth. For the first time in his young, eighteen-year old life, Nathaniel sat speechless.
The stranger broke the mystical silence. “Well, I must be on my way. I’m done here.” He pushed his seat away from the table. “Remember what I told you.”
Nathaniel searched the man’s eyes, then nodded. He wanted to hear more but held his tongue.
The stranger extended his hand to Nathaniel and finished, “Thank you for listening.” After releasing his grip, he picked up his check, pivoted, and walked toward the cashier’s station.
Not knowing what else to do, Nathaniel grabbed his ticket and raced after the man. He reached the proprietor and said, “His glass of milk is on me. It’s the least I can do,” he said to the stranger.
The stranger offered a single nod that resembled a slight, gracious bow. “Thank you.”
Larry and Barry caught up to Nathaniel at the cashier’s station. They flanked his sides as he paid his and the stranger’s checks. Nathaniel accepted his change and turned to say “Good-bye” to the stranger. “Thanks for…” In near panic, he searched the restaurant. “Where did he go?”…
“Where did he go?” Little William’s face shone with wonder.
Nathaniel recognized William demanded a resolution to the growing mystery, but he would add to it. “None of us knows. I rushed out of the restaurant and searched the street, all directions. Barry and Larry joined me, but they couldn’t see him either. It was cold and dark, so we didn’t linger. We started walking back to school. We talked about the stranger and wondered what happened to him, but we never saw him again.”
“Are you funning me, Pa?”
“William, one thing I hope you will learn: I will always tell you the truth.”
“But where did the man go?”
“The Bible teaches that many have entertained angels unaware. It also tells us that Jesus appeared to people and they didn’t recognize Him. For all I know, he was a kind, older man who obeyed what God asked him to do. Anyway, I couldn’t get his message out of my mind.”
“What message?”
“That I was very close to God; I just didn’t know it, yet. I’ve since learned that all of us have value in God’s eyes, no matter how weak or strong, poor or rich, or sick or healthy. He loves all of us and wants us to know Him and Jesus, His Son, whom He sent for us.”
“Am I very close to God, too?”
“More than you know, son, and it’s our prayer—your mother’s and mine—that you will come to know Him even better than we do.”
“That’s right, son,” Eleanor said, beaming.
William glanced back and forth from his father and mother. He nodded. Then, he asked, “So Pa, when did you meet Jesus?”
Nathaniel smiled, grateful for his son’s interest in the rest of the story.
As the three young men walked back to school, they talked about the stranger. But Nathaniel couldn’t get his message out of my mind. He kept gazing at the stars. They seemed clearer than any time before, almost like they were alive. Soon he lagged behind the others, rethinking what the stranger said: “You’re very close to God; you just don’t know it yet.”
After a long while, Nathaniel decided. Maybe I should pray. I’ve never prayed before. I don’t know how to do it. He looked heavenward and whispered, “God,” and then he spoke the name he had never spoken before in reverence: “Jesus, if you are real, I want to know you and I want to know you, now.”
Then something happened.
“What’s going on with you back there?” Larry shouted.
“Be quiet,” Barry said. “I sense something—something different, something odd.”
Both friends turned to observe Nathaniel on his knees, staring up to the stars.
“Are you out of your mind, Nate?” Larry said.
Barry grabbed Larry’s arm and shushed him.
With clarity, conviction, and courage, Nathaniel said, “God is real and Jesus the Son of the living God is with us right here right now.”
“You’re crazy. I think you had too much to drink,” Larry laughed and ridiculed.
Barry came to Nathaniel’s defense. “He hasn’t had so much as a drop. Besides, I think he’s right.”
Nathaniel got to his feet and approached his friends. They stared at him.
“There’s something different about you, Nate,” Barry said.
Nathaniel smiled. “Let’s go home…”
“Well, William, that’s how and when I met Jesus, my Lord and Savior. I would like to say I followed Him every day thereafter, but we’ve had our occasional disputes. I always learn that He’s right and I’m wrong, and I would say it is safe to say I’m still learning.”
“And with that, I think it is time for all of us to go to bed,” Eleanor said taking command of the moment.
“But, Pa, who do you think the strange man was?”
Nathaniel shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Let’s go young man,” Eleanor said. “Tomorrow is another day.”
As he moseyed toward the ladder, William said, “I think the stranger was either an angel or Jesus.”
“Maybe, son. You may be right.” He winked at Eleanor and she smiled her reply. Nathaniel patted his thigh. Bailey popped up and followed the smallest family member. Bailey watched the little master ascend a few rungs. Then, he lay down at the ladder’s base.
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