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Chapter 28: A Brief Rap, A Briefer Scrap, and Luke Takes the Teeniest Little Nap

  “But Jesus beheld them, and said unto them, With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible,” Matthew 19:26

  As soon as the ship pulled away from the dock, Luke had been sure he had made a mistake. He had even thought about diving over the rail and swimming to shore to Jenny, (wouldn’t that be romantic?), except he wasn’t a strong swimmer at all, and drowning is decidedly less seductive. As he hesitated, the distance had gotten wider, his chances for success slimmer, and finally it just wasn’t worth it. He who hesitates is lost, they say. Well Luke felt lost. He moped about for a couple of days before his friend Bert felt bad for him and tried to help.

  “You all right son? Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you like her that much, how come you got back on the ship?”

  “I’m still on my journey to find God,” Luke reminded both Bert and himself.

  “There ya go.”

  “I thought there was more for me to learn out here at sea. But...” Luke tried to explain what was making him doubt his decision: “What am I going to learn out here with the likes of you guys? No offense. Jenny was a ‘follower of Christ’. I know she could have taught me. Earlier in the voyage I felt like every mile was taking me closer to God, now it seems like with every mile I get farther away.”

  Bert decided that yes, that definitely would justify feeling poorly, except... He flashed a grin and asked mischievously: “So you think God lives on Prince Edward Island?”

  Bert was surprised by Luke’s response. “I’m sure of it.”

  “True,” Bert conceded. “But that doesn’t mean He isn’t other places too. Sometimes God is found where you least expect. And sometimes...” he continued thoughtfully, as though remembering some personal experience, “sometimes God is found far from home, when you’re feeling lonely, friendless, and in need. Coz when else are you going to need Him more? And then when you turn to Him, there He is. Would that happen if you stayed safe at home?”

  Thinking about how happy and comfortable he could have been on a little farm just outside of Delightful, Luke agreed, Maybe not.

  Bert continued, “You’re right, you won’t learn much from us. You could learn more from Jenny. But you can learn more still from God Himself! ‘No mediator but Christ’, ‘They shall all be taught of God’. That kind of stuff. Talk about something to look forward to!” Then Bert got that sly grin again, and changed the tempo: “Still, while you’re waiting for that mountaintop experience to come along and surprise you, there’s a way you can keep your mind off your troubles in the meantime...”

  “How?” asked Luke eagerly.

  Swinging a boom towards Luke, Bert ordered playfully, “Get to work!”

  Work was a good answer. The next couple weeks were busy ones: every day or two they would reach a new port, as they travelled down the settled coast. Then it was always unloading and loading, switching this cargo for that one. Good muscle work for Luke, but still he wondered, “How come we have to do this so often? Um, why don’t we just stick with one cargo and take it farther?”

  Made sense from a dockhand’s perspective, but the Admiral saw the bigger picture: “The more times we trade, the more times we get to make money!”

  “But isn’t the profit margin smaller on these short trips? If they’re not from far away, the goods aren’t so exotic, and the price isn’t so high. Am I right?”

  Not quite. “In theory, that’s true. But in reality, the profit margin is whatever we make it,” boasted wily Jack. Then, “That’s not greed, that’s initiative!” he explained, anticipating Luke’s objection.

  Hearing that, Luke got suspicious, coz he remembered the fur fer jewelry fiasco. “Say, you’re not up to anything fishy, are you?”

  The Admiral looked hurt. “Luke, I’m an honest trader! I offer only the fairest prices! But these people! I just can’t stop their money from jumping into my hand!”

  Maybe the Admiral shouldn’t have boasted so loudly about the jumping of money, coz once they were back out at sea and in a strong bargaining position, Bert organized a union, and after that they all got paid time and a half.

  The open sea.

  “Ah, this is it,” Luke decided, starting to feel hopeful again. “Discovery! Exploration! Events and encounters! Surprises and adventures!” He was sure God would be hiding in all of it.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’ve got a pretty good map,” Navigator Humphrey broke the news to him. He unrolled it and pointed: “And there will be exactly...zero stops, until we reach the Island of Midway.99 There’s some mighty pretty water between here and there, though. Enjoy.”

  Luke didn’t enjoy it. He was actually kind of angry about it, until the Admiral explained, “Trade is a much better business than exploring, anyway. Less risk, more reward.” Luke pointed out that there were other types of reward besides money. Now it was the Admiral’s turn to be a little bitter, as he retorted, “Oh, but you’re enjoying your union wages though, aren’t you?”

  Luke enjoyed his union-negotiated working hours too. Once they were out at sea, under sail and holding a straight course, there was less work to be done, and the ‘non-emergency shift schedule’ kicked in. “Nice,” Chains observed, speaking for them all.

  The drawback was that with more free time, Luke started thinking about Jenny and getting depressed again. Even the stuff Bert had told him wasn’t helping, since they were still on the way to being far away from home, so obviously they weren’t there just yet. It seemed like there was nothing to do at this stage but wait.

  Bert, always helpful, gave him something to do while waiting. He flashed a pack of cards and smiled. “Euchre, son. Where else can you exercise your intellect, practice your social skills, and fatten your wallet, all in one? C’mon, I’ve got a couple easy marks lined up: guy named Kennedy, and of course Morel.” Sure enough, Bert and Luke made short work of those two sailors, and then took more money off Robespierre and Admiral Jack. That was satisfying. “It’s always more fun when you’re winning,” Bert pointed out--then drew the obvious conclusion, “So let’s keep winning!” That said, they gladly gave Morel and Kennedy a futile rematch (“the Horror, the Horror!”), before disposing of an ill-considered challenge by Brian Chains and Navigator Humphrey (“Can you tell where this is going?” Bert liked to ask the navigator, every time he and Luke took a lead. “Too bad you can’t slow it down,” he would then taunt the anchorman)

  Time flies when you’re having fun, and the weeks went quickly with shorter shifts and more fun at the card table. Before anyone expected, Gonzales had sighted an island, and the joyous cry went up, “Midway!” Luke though, had a sudden uncomfortable thought: ‘And am I midway to finding out what I was supposed to find, out here?’ He sighed guiltily, but then couldn’t help smiling happily, at the prospect of finally reaching land at least.

  The rest of the sailors were happy about it too. That took Luke by surprise, coz he would have thought the full-timers would prefer being at sea. Bert explained, “Yeah, but we can’t have as good a party at sea! For it to be a good party you have to break stuff. Wouldn’t want to break our own stuff, now would we?”

  Predictably, the prices were high on Midway, both due to its monopoly, and to absorb the cost of all the stuff breakin’ during its good parties. Despite the high prices, when Luke realized there was a hotel, he decided to spring for a room for a night. Just to have peace and stillness for a night, instead of the constant swaying and rocking of the ship. Then he remembered the breaking-things-wild party that would be coming, and wondered whether the hotel itself would be swaying and rocking! The other sailors from the Jonah smiled a little mockingly at Luke, and thought to themselves, how much more sense it made to go back and sleep in the ship, so they could spend the money on a few extra drinks.

  But Luke was happy. He even got to do something he had always wanted to do: when checking in, he announced himself to the desk clerk, in a deep voice (coz you s
ound more important that way)100, “Luke the Hun. Any messages for me?”

  He was shocked when the answer was yes. There were three messages!

  The first was a postcard, from his friend Electric Man! “G’day from Australia, mate! I made it! Love it here, so pretty! The suit was a good idea, not only did it seal in my charge, but I think my power is starting to peter out, too. I was sad about that at first, but I can live with it, as long as I’m here! Met a great girl, everything is working out. Got a great job as a beachcomber! It’s so me. I don’t make much money though. I only had enough for postage to send this card halfway! Sorry. Hope you find it anyway somehow! Your friend, Surfer Man.”

  Luke smiled at his friend’s success, and smiled at the strange fate that had brought him to the same island as the halfway-posted card. Then he tore open the envelope of the next piece of mail. It looked like a direct mail advertisement, addressed to “Lori Dettling or Current Resident” (“That’s you,” the desk porter explained, since Luke was staying there tonight.) Luke read the message, from Paul the Doctor, MD: “You be ill! Take a pill! Come on over and pay this bill!” Enclosed was a long tablet marked ‘Placebo’ (must be the name of the drug company, Luke speculated), and, to Luke’s distress, a bill for a buck ninety-eight. Luke looked at the envelope again and read the Doctor’s advertising slogan: “The best medical care available for under two dollars.”

  “Yeah, misdiagnosed for under $2. That is a bargain,” Luke said aloud, annoyed. Perhaps the doctor thought some people would find it cheaper and easier to pay the bill than to hire a lawyer and fight it. This is cheaper and easier still, thought Luke, throwing that letter in the trashcan.

  The third letter looked more promising. The envelope was unsigned, and hand-delivered. “Some kind of secret admirer maybe,” the desk porter speculated, making fake kissies. Luke thought of Jenny, and had a moment of hope. It wouldn’t have been hard for her to figure out they would stop at this the only way-station, after all. But, hand-delivered... Luke’s spine tingled. He read the letter.

  I love you. I have loved you since before you were born. I will love you long after you have died. I have gifts that I long to give you. Grace. Truth. Peace. Love. My own life. Salvation from sins. The Holy Spirit. Life Eternal! Will you love me too? Please? I am waiting for you. -Jeazus.

  Wow, talk about a love letter! thought Luke. No love truer! But... the name was spelled wrong. Kinda made him suspect somebody else had written it. Then as he looked closer he thought it kinda looked like Bert’s handwriting. He sighed, and resolved to ask him about it. First he checked in and checked out his room.

  Luke went down to the bar. There was Bert, eating a grilled chicken sandwich. Luke ordered one too. And a basket of fries. Luke showed him the letter, a little accusingly. Bert laughed. “Ah. That. Yeah, I was trying to give you what you needed, like I did for Shadrach. Probably out of line, but I was just imagining your reaction if you got a handwritten note from Jesus. Figured it would give you a little jump-start, inspire you to pour your heart into your search again. You’ve been on cruise control. My fault partly, for getting you hooked on cards! So I was trying to make up for it,” Bert laughed. “But I couldn’t pull it off! Got down to the name, and didn’t have the guts to forge the name of our Lord! So I signed the nickname of a long-haired hippie-dude I knew from Guelph. But I hope at least the note was faithful to what one of them would have said!”

  Luke appreciated the gesture. “Sometimes their acts are ill-considered and don’t quite work out, but Friends always try to help give you what you need. I’m glad you’re my friend.”

  Before he had even finished saying it, though, the hair on Luke’s neck was standing up, and he felt that danger was close. From behind them came a loud, mock-sentimental, “Awww!”, and Luke wheeled. In the old days he would have turned in time to face the danger and defeat it, but now he just turned in time to take a fist full in the face and go sprawling over the bar. Blackness and blinking, then Luke tried to shake the fog out of his head, and tried to stagger to his feet and get back in the battle101. Smarting but ready for vengeance, Luke spotted the culprit, red-handed and wrestling with his friend Bert, both of them snarling and laughing like jackals. Luke was about to launch a haymaker of his own, until he recognized the white undershirt, the knotty arms, and the rough smile. It was his father!

  Luke vaulted across the bar; Chief Otis tossed Bert aside and gave his son a manly embrace. “Thanks for stickin’ up for me Bert. But this is my dad! Chief Otis! Dad, this is my friend Bertralamus Loreword.”

  “Ooh, fancy,” Chief Otis praised the man with two names. “But what’s a Hun doing making friends?”

  “What’s a father doing punching his own son in the mouth?” Bert intruded a question of his own.

  Luke laughed. “Oh that. My fault for being slow, right Dad?”

  “Yer an embarrassment!” Otis kidded, “You getting soft?”

  Luke explained to Bert. “That’s how we greet each other in Hun-Country. Rough neighborhood, see. Some people shake hands, or hug or kiss. We throw punches. Not much practice showing affection I guess! But as long as I look up and he’s smiling, it’s a greeting. If he’s scowling, it’s a beating.”

  “The importance of body language,” Bert quipped.

  “Exactly. Listen Bert, I’m going to go catch up with my dad for a while. I see you enough on the ship anyway,” Luke bantered. He was definitely in good spirits for a guy who just got his jaw jacked. Perhaps he was impervious. Luke started steering his father towards a corner table so there would be no more sneaking up on either of them. That’s Hun custom to begin with, and Luke would have followed it in the first place if he hadn’t seen Bert at the bar. (“See, that’s what you get for having friends, Sally,” he could hear his father scolding him, without the Chief actually having to say it.)

  “Nice meeting you Otis,” Bert called, with a wave, as they started to go.

  “Oh, he’ll party with you guys later, most likely,” Luke assured his friend, knowing his father’s habits. “Or fight with you. Whichever you want at the time.”

  “Absolutely,” Otis agreed. “You got guts kid, going after a Hun like that. Going after the King of all Huns, I should say.” He and Bert nodded respectfully to each other as they parted. Pleased, Otis gave Luke some spur-of-the-moment advice: “Beware of any man who laughs when he fights! Even more so if he makes the sound effects!”

  There were already some sailors in the corner booth, but Otis waved them up, and they vacated. It would take them a few more shots of courage before they were ready to defy a brace of brass-knuckle baddies.

  Luke’s first question, just to make sure, was “King of all Huns? You were just impressing him with your full title right? I thought my brother DavidGorki was chief now. Right?”

  Chief Otis looked grim. “Sit down, son.” Luke’s heart fell as soon as he heard those words. One always assumes there is a mantle of invincibility around oneself and one’s young friends, and when tragedy finally strikes it always pierces like a dagger. Like a blow to the stomach, it made Luke sit down. Chief Otis gave him the story straight. “Our raiding didn’t go so well this summer, son. I just heard things secondhand from on the road at first, but then I had to go back home and see. It’s not pretty. There were some ambushes in the Andes. Great and numerous armies. Led by Terror-by-night, the mighty Emperor of Peru. The Huns won, of course. But it wasn’t worth the trouble, for what little treasure we gained! We paid a heavy price in casualties. Dozens of men killed, many more were wounded and maimed. Your brother, Chief DavidGorki, was grievously wounded, lost both legs and nearly perished. He’s a tough cracker though. Not too many people would have survived at all, between his wounds and the Hun lack of medical knowledge.”

  “So he’s alive!” Luke was excited and relieved, having first assumed the worst.

  “Yes. He’s recuperating at home. He seems to be taking it in stride. Er, taking it well. He was horrified and depressed at first, of course. Th
at was hard for me--it’s weird, but if he would have died in battle we would have just mourned him and then celebrated him and then moved on. But to see him changed…emptied…well, that actually makes you think.” Otis got lively again: “But they’ve fit him for some crutches, and now he’s trying to think what other jobs besides Warrior he might be qualified for. It would be a really good time for Hun-Country to have more than one industry! He doesn’t think he feels ready to lead the Huns again, in any event. Thank God I’ve found you!”

  Luke was overwhelmed to hear those words coming from his father. “Thank God?”

  Being questioned about it made the father a little bit self-conscious. “Hey, I’m re-evaluating my life. Met a guy last night who really had some challenging things to tell me. Warnings even. So, yes, God. Somebody guides our steps, don’t they? Brings us together and separates us for a reason? Here you are after all, right where I needed to find you. Just like here I was, when that man was told to come here and find me...”

  Luke got a little chill. That sounded like somebody he would want to meet too. But first things first. It seemed like Chief Otis had opened a door for him to share about his own search. He remembered Jenny and her sister, and how much loneliness could come from not speaking about such things, so he hurried on to tell his father what he wanted to say, before he chickened out. “I’m going through some things myself, Dad. I came out looking for my place in life, trying to find some happiness and peace of mind. But the more I search, and the more people I meet, the more certain I am becoming...that God is the answer. That the gospel of Jesus Christ is true. And that in Him, I will find my place in life.”

  “You won’t come back and lead the Huns?” Chief Otis seemed disappointed.

  “Dad, didn’t you hear me? The ways of Christ are the ways of peace. How could I lead the Huns in battle?”

  Chief Otis astonished Luke yet again: “I didn’t say ‘in battle’, did I?”

  Luke was speechless for a moment, then finally grinned and observed, “Wow, you really are changing!”

  Chief Otis bristled. “Not changing. Re-evaluating.” He stressed the word.

  Luke kept smiling. “That’s where it starts...” he said cheerfully. Then he wondered about what his father had implied, “Do you think it could be done? Lead the Huns, but not into battle? Try something else besides war and looting for once?”

  As soon as the question was spoken, they both remembered the story of King Vinny the Good. In Hun-country that title, ‘the Good’ was still spoken like a slur. Short-lived King Vinny, who had tried to bring peace, civility and industry to the Huns. He had courageously proclaimed upon taking office, “There will be peace in my time.” Upon which, some of the more ruthless Huns had fallen upon him like Myrmidons, as the toughest of their number coolly pronounced sentence, “Well, your time’s up then!” Thinking of that episode in Hun History, Chief Otis sized up Luke’s chances honestly: “It would take a miracle.”

  “Then a miracle is what we’ll ask for,” Luke affirmed.

  Chief Otis was impressed. “When you walked away from the violence, you became a better man than I am. But if you go back and try to show the rest of the Huns their error, well, then you’re a braver man too.”

  Luke felt a thrill inside to finally have the praise of his father. There was something ironic about it occurring now. In his youth, he had become as warlike as possible to try to please his father, and yet had never quite measured up to all the legendary generals. Now, after having set at nought all the Hun traditions, all their values, all the fine warriors’ opinions, he finally had the praise he had wanted. For doing the right thing, instead of the expected thing.

  But Chief Otis didn’t stop there. He had one more compliment to give. “You know, you’re becoming more like your mother every time we talk.”

  Luke thought back to the last time they had talked. In between quitting in the middle of raiding season, and leaving for college at Iowa State, Luke had tried to convey to his father some of his horror at their deeds. But not having been trained to question the Hun ways, he had had trouble finding words for his malaise, and had resorted mostly to clichés: “It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.” “Then it’s a profession,” Chief Otis had bragged. “Make Love, not War!” Luke had enjoined. “Why not make both?” Chief Otis had wondered--he was married after all. Then picking up a theme in Luke’s protests, he had challenged him: “Please don’t tell me my own son is turning into a candy-axe liberal. I hate people like that!” This time Luke had taken full advantage of the chance to respond sagely, with advice borrowed from his Uncle Max, who had once come to visit Luke’s mother. “Hate is a strong word, Dad. It’s like ‘Kill’.” Unfortunately, Chief Otis had effectively ended that conversation-- and Luke’s hopes of ever reforming Hun-Country--as he picked up an invisible pencil and pretended to jot that word down, “Say, there’s another good one!” Luke thought about what he had been like then, and wondered, have I really changed that much since? He smiled inside when he realized the answer was Yes. Then he had been merely learning right from wrong. Now he was learning why each was each, and Who served as the standard: which was something his mother had known all along.

  Luke confronted his father with an observation. “You wouldn’t always have used that as a compliment. Used to be, you tried to stop me from being like her.”

  He could see the guilt in his father’s eyes. “Of course. I thought the Hun code was a good way to live. I thought her religion, her faith, were for the weak, and would make you weak. But I’m starting to realize, that she may have been right, I may have been wrong. Isn’t that what love means? That you think enough of someone to trust that they might know as much as you? I did love her. Wish I’d realized it when she was alive,” he lamented. “When I kidnapped her, I thought of her as a prize. Now I know she was a treasure. Imagine: it couldn‘t have been the direction she’d planned for her life. But did she ever reproach me, her captor, with one word of bitterness? No. She just quietly tried to show me how to be a better person.”

  Otis washed back memory with a long sip, then smiled wryly. “Y’know she wasn’t the first one whose departure made me ponder…” he added proudly, clapping Luke on the back. Then, feeling awkward, he cleared his throat and continued: “Then the man I talked to last night made me wonder even more. My own strange journey has brought up the question once or twice too. But mainly, what happened in Peru, what happened to your brother: if even the strongest warrior is not immune to the perils of war, then maybe war just isn’t a very good idea? Maybe we chose the wrong field to specialize in!” Then he laughed. “That’s possible! We Huns were never renowned for our decision- making!”

  Luke was overjoyed to see even the reprobate Hun Chieftain shaping up. But how to translate this pensiveness into action? The whole system seemed rigged against them. If every man teaches his son to war, what chance is there for the one or two who realize it is not the answer? The lone voice is the deviant voice, the first voice seems the dangerous voice...even if it happens to be right. “So what do we do? How do we change Hun-Country?” Luke wondered.

  Chief Otis didn’t have the answer either. “Carefully,” was his only suggestion. Then he pledged that if Luke wanted to try, he and DavidGorki would stand with Luke (“Er, I’ll stand, he’ll lean,”). Otis managed a wry grin: “Who knows, maybe we could muster some authority, with the combined strength of three kings.” Then he warned, realistically, that if Luke wasn’t ready with a plan by the spring, and the onset of raiding season, the reins would likely be turned over instead to his brutal cousin, Faflak the Destroyer.

  Luke sipped his juice and pondered that point, and suddenly reached an arm across the table and clasped forearms with his father, almost as if to arm wrestle. Instead he repeated his father’s phrase, like an oath: “Strength of Kings.”

  Chief Otis smiled, and on that hopeful note he took his leave. “It’s almost night. I’ve got to get going. Come see me off?”

 
They walked down to the beach, where Chief Otis found and straddled a strange little personal watercraft that was parked at the waterline. A skinny sketch artist who had been drawing the sunset hopped on behind. Chief Otis finally explained his mission: “I’m touring the globe, getting in different types of fights with different types of people in every country! Tony here draws the pictures, and writes the stories. “A Year in the Life” type of thing. He’s got a good title for it though... what was it?”

  “Scrappin’ Otis Tours the Land on a Mission of No Mercy,” the artist supplied.

  “See, told ya. Good one, eh? And what is it again? Some kind of documentary?”

  “A Kronk-umentary,” the artist volunteered again, to another happy Hun nod..

  “But Dad, can you do that? All that fighting and violence still? Haven’t you turned over a new leaf?”

  “Re-E-valuating...” Chief Otis corrected him, slowly, deliberately. “Gotta go now son! This thing only really moves well at night. I stole ...er, borrowed it from a mad scientist on the coast. An Edison-esque inventor named Spoony. He told me he was working first on a solar car, but solar power is too unreliable, coz of cloudy days and what-not. So he designed some lunar cells instead, that run on darkness! There’s thinkin’, huh? Then to get better acceleration he wanted to mount them on a smaller vehicle. Said he considered making a lunar cycle first, but that seemed too obvious. One hates to apply for a patent only to find someone else did the same work and beat you by a day or two. So he bucked convention and made a lunar Sea-doo instead! And humble yours-truly is the beneficiary...”

  “Dad? Stealing is wrong.”

  “Testing! I’m testing it for him! An act of selflessness and courage!” Then as if to prove his point, Chief Otis slapped on his helmet, waved, and rocketed away at top speed, taking full advantage of that extra acceleration.

  Luke watched the small craft slicing the waves and receding into the distance and darkness, and then he stared at the stars for a while, just enjoying the peaceful night. The sky was black now, but down at the bottom there were still narrow pink and gold bands, the last of the sunset, as if the day was saying its last words: Remember me? I was beautiful too.

  It had been a good day all right. Luke wanted to rejoice for the sake of his father, the last guy he ever would have expected to learn about God! But should he rejoice for his father, or mourn for himself? True, Luke knew his journey had stalled a little the last few weeks, but had even the old man really moved ahead of him? Guilt, discouragement, depression troubled Luke for a moment--until he recalled Jenny’s voice, telling him about God’s ‘sure promises’, and pledging her own potent prayers. After that Luke grinned, and rejoiced for both of them.