Devotion Apart Page 9

  "I believe you. How long have you been out here on the streets?"

  "Long enough to know you must be new here. People normally ignore me."

  "If you get to know me, you'll learn I'm far from normal. Listen, you're obviously not a drug user. What happened that led you to this kind of life?"

  "I was fired, and I didn't have any kind of savings. I was a teacher." She held her chin up. "I don't know what you'll think of this, but I counseled a twelve-year-old boy out of a transgender operation. Word got out, and I was given one chance to change my opinion and apologize to the boy's parents. I refused to call a biological boy a girl, so I was fired. That was a year ago. Protestors marched against me at the school, wanting me charged with ADX hate crimes, and even my landlord got involved. He kicked me out within a week of the protests, so where was I supposed to go? But that's not the saddest part."

  "What's the saddest part?"

  "The boy whose parents were pushing for the operation? He committed suicide a week later. No one seemed to care about the boy, as long as I took my faith and went away."

  "Your faith?" I raised my eyebrows. "So, this was a stand of conscience?"

  "Yes, that and I cared for all the kids I was teaching. God created us male and female, in His image. Every individual is unique, special, and loved, just in the form we are born. What needs to change, I told the school board, is not our bodies, but our hearts."

  "Oh, I bet they hated that!" I laughed. "God, huh?"

  "Yeah." She frowned. "I guess you think I'm real strange now—homeless and a Christian."

  "Strange in this world, but not strange to God."

  She set her pack against the building, now eyeing me with curiosity instead of concern, and told me more. Together, we sat in the shade beside the SUV.

  Her name was Karen Lennick, and she'd taught sixth grade downtown. I shared my own faith, and we couldn't hide our joy. Two strangers had found each other in a broken city!

  "May I ask you a few more questions?"

  "That seems to be all you're doing!" she teased. "Ask away."

  "Why haven't you gone to the Christians in the city for help?"

  "Those who I thought were Christians had their own burdens, or they didn't care. Or they were too afraid. It hasn't been popular for decades in this country to admit you're a Christian."

  "Would you accept the love of the Body of Christ if they offered it?"

  "What, you think I like living in the gutter?" She shook her head and wiped at her cheek, which smeared the dirt under her eye. "It'd be hard. I wouldn't even know what could help me at this point. I need help in every imaginable way. I mean, house, job, car, food, clothes, and so on."

  "I could care for you?" I held out my hand, palm up. "Would you let me?"

  She placed her small hand in mine, and that seemed to be her answer, as she sobbed, unable to speak.

  Seeing what lay inside the biodome would have to wait. I gave Karen my helmet, and she climbed onto the back of my bike. She wore her backpack and held on tightly as I rode east. Craig's house wasn't my house, but it seemed ridiculous that all of his rooms remained empty. The guards at the front gate had already grown familiar with my coming and going, so, they didn't stop me as I rode through the gate with Karen.

  At the house, she climbed off the bike, and I helped her out of her backpack straps as she looked up at the mansion.

  "You must be crazy bringing an old lady to a place like this. You sure this is okay?"

  "The people here aren't Christians, but they're friends of mine. If they put up with me, I think they'll put up with you."

  Tyler and Janae were hospitable, but their faces showed skepticism as they studied Karen in the foyer.

  "Until I can figure out some housing for her, she'll be staying with us. Until recently, she was a teacher." I nodded at Karen while I spoke about her to them. "It was no accident that we met when we did. The Lord has plans for Karen, so let's take care of her, huh?"

  "I'm not explaining this to Craig," Tyler said.

  "I'll take care of Craig," I assured.

  "Come on, miss." Janae walked up the hallway past the kitchen. "Let's get you cleaned up for dinner. It looks like we'll have another place to set."

  Instead of eating at the kitchen counter like I normally did, Janae prepared two places at the dining table for just me and Karen, which gave us time to talk. Now that she was cleaned up and wearing something washed from her backpack, I noticed she must've been quite pretty when younger, but was still pleasant-looking as a mature woman. Her skin was pale, and freckles still covered the bridge of her small nose.

  "I believe in God's provision," she said quietly as we finished a roast, "but I keep pinching myself."

  "I keep wondering," I added, "what would happen to this city if more of God's people worked together like this, pooling our resources."

  "I have no resources." She sighed.

  "No, Karen. You are a resource. You don't need anything to live for Christ. Honestly? I arrived in America last week, wearing these same clothes. This shirt was borrowed from a native friend. In weeks or months, I'll go back to the Amazon, and I still won't own anything but a hammock, my Bible, a knife, and a blow-pipe. What's around us should be used for the Lord, but it's who He's made us to be that's the real value to Him and others."

  We agreed to pray about what God was guiding us toward.

  Karen hadn't slept in a good bed for months, so Janae saw the guest to her room, and I hunted down Craig. He was in the north wing den, reclining in a soft chair, a tablet on his chest.

  "Don't say anything." He sat up when I approached him. He was wearing the same pajamas and coat as he had been several days earlier. "I've been watching everything for the last few days."

  As I seated myself across from him, he showed me his tablet screen. One frame displayed the parking lot of the biodome, and another showed Brock's warehouse interior.

  "How mad are you?" I folded my hands. "Karen wasn't something I planned for. She just sort of happened. And she's a sister in the faith."

  "I'm not mad." His chin trembled. "Just shocked. I knew you'd do good things, but I didn't think it would be like this, Cord. Why can't I do what you're doing? I don't even think of the things you're doing."

  This was unexpected! After a moment to consider my words, I spoke.

  "Craig, I'm no better or different than you are." My heart relaxed since he wasn't angry with me volunteering his home. "I've just chosen to pursue God's ways for so long, it's a natural way for me. I let Him live through me. You can, too."

  "If I were you, I wouldn't be able to move on from putting my sister's murderer behind bars. But you've moved on."

  "The pain of her loss is still there, but I've realized that with what you've revealed to me, with RASH and all, I can't waste all of this on myself. Or vengeance. Karen could be just the beginning. There are so many others out there."

  Craig bowed his head, and it was several seconds before I realized he was crying.

  I remained still until Craig wiped his nose on his coat sleeve, then I sat closer on the low coffee table in the middle of the floor.

  "How can I help you do more?" he asked through his sniffles. "You can't bring everyone here, and I don't want to leave the house, but how can I help?"

  "I can write down some things that'll help me," I said, "but really, Craig, I need you to be surrendered to Jesus Christ. Fall at His feet and be done with Craig. Come all the way clean with Him about the things that are hurting you."

  "I can't, Cord." His face twisted in inner misery, and I thought he'd crumble all over again. "You don't know what I've done. It's too much."

  "It's not too much, but I understand." I touched his arm. "That's between you and God. You don't have to tell me. But you do need to trust in God's forgiveness. That's what being a Christian is—resting in faith in Him as your Savior."

  "You'll have to do it for me." He shook his head. "You were always stronger than me."

  "This isn'
t something I can do for you, brother. I can trust for myself, and you need to trust for yourself. God is here for you. You need Him. He's big enough for whatever it is. Just grasp His hand and trust Him to lead you ahead, no matter how ugly it is. I'll be right beside you."

  "I know." He sighed. "You can email me about anything else you need for your project, okay?"

  "Okay, Thank you. It'll be a lot."

  "I don't care." He scoffed. "I'm not spending it on anything, anyway. Karen's okay, but set up other people with their own places, would you? I like my privacy."

  "Sure, Craig."

  He turned his head away.

  "I think I'd like to be alone now."

  "Sure." I rose to my feet. "I'll check on you every day or two, just to make sure you're all right."

  When he didn't answer, I left with mixed feelings. I was overjoyed that he was behind what I was hoping to do for Christ, but I was heartbroken that he couldn't find God bigger than his shame, trauma, and guilt. Indeed, there was much to pray about.

  The next morning, I left a note for Karen that I'd be back to take her out for dinner, then I drove away in the four-door Jeep before Janae was up to fix breakfast. Many mornings in the rainforest, I had run along the river bank until I found a stout tree to climb, from which I could watch the sun rise. It made me think of Jesus upon the mountain overlooking the Sea of Galilee, watching the sun rise after a night of praying.

  I drove down to Robbi's Ridge and parked facing eastward. The sun rose as I read God's Word, from the Book of Ephesians, as it laid out the truths regarding the Body of Christ. In some ways, I felt like I was planting a church in Devotion, and I wanted God's truth flowing through and out of me. True, there were Christians in the city, people like Sadona and her band of believers, and men like Detective Fletcher and his group, but few seemed to be acting like a church of effective members, coordinating for God's eternal purpose.

  With the sun up, I jogged down by the river, then drove back to Morliam Acres to shower. Karen still hadn't emerged from her room, so I drove into the city, stopped for breakfast at a fast-food joint, then continued to the Amazonia Biodome. In the parking lot sat the same SUV as the afternoon before. The red light wasn't on, so I passed through the outer door and into a decontamination chamber. A flashing red light rotated overhead as several powerful bursts of air blasted at my skin and face. I understood this was an attempt to keep Arizona and the Amazon's contaminants separate.

  The light stopped flashing, and I moved through a glass door and into the Amazon! A cement walkway ended abruptly at a dirt path that led into a dark and dense forest. Water ran as a brook from a manmade rock shelf, and sipos and colorful orchids grew everywhere. The smell of mold and leaves from high trees convinced me that I'd traveled from one continent to another. Blue and yellow macaws, native to Brazil, flew from one stand to kapok trees to tropical bushes where bromeliad cupped leaves spilled their reservoir of frogs, insects, crabs, and snakes onto the still black water of a swamp. Yellow-headed turtles blinked at me as I walked up the dirt path, and I spied a gilded catfish in the water's depths.

  Suddenly, a horned screamer flapped overhead, swooped at my hair, then found a roost in a young Brazil nut tree, its highest leaves brushing the biodome's one-hundred-foot ceiling. Such trees could grow another eighty feet, so some trimming was in order for that one.

  "Can I help you?" A woman with narrow eyes and high cheekbones walked out of the dark forest. She carried a white plastic bucket in one hand and a small spade in the other. Her knees were soiled from wet dirt, and a straw gardening hat dripped moisture from the humid foliage she'd been under. "We don't usually have visitors without appointments."

  She was about my age, her voice cheery, her eyes blue. As she approached from tending the forest, I noticed her elegance, her posture, the proud turn of her neck and jawline.

  "Until recently, I lived in the Amazon," I said, aware I was grinning like a boy. "This place is amazing! You've got osier plants over there. And is that an assai?"

  "Why?" She frowned at a nearby palm tree with fruit the size of cherries. "What's wrong with it? Did I plant it too close to the water?"

  "No, it just brings back memories. The natives pound the fruit down and drink it with water for liquor. You can always tell who's been drinking, because the juice stains everyone's lips, like blackberries."

  "You really know your plants, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah." I held up one hand. "If I block out the ceiling, I'm looking at my back yard halfway down the Japura River. There'd probably be more birds and monkeys, at least their sounds, but this is an amazing likeness. How do you keep it so humid? I don't see any mist tubes or sprinklers."

  "Three furnaces under the pools of water." She pointed. "Two here and one farther back about fifty yards."

  "Furnaces? Fascinating! You've done a spectacular job."

  "It offers scientists a way to study imported plants without living in the forest." She smiled without showing her teeth. "It's my garden. I'm Elizabeth Ardent."

  I shared my name, and briefly explained what I'd done in the Amazon. She listened politely as I told her about the message of Christ I'd taken to the natives, but she seemed distracted by something in her bucket. She tipped it toward me.

  "My three nemesis," she said, not commenting on my evangelist work in the Amazon. "Centipedes, woodlice, and cockroaches. Even some beetles. I can't seem to get ahead of them. They're killing the plants, and they keep finding their way inside. I can't spray for them without killing some of the plant species."

  In one corner of the biodome, she'd set up a humble shed where a cluttered desk, sat with a nearby hose with running water, and a small furnace. She tossed her bugs into the incinerator and looked up at me.

  "Do you disapprove? Some people don't approve of killing all these creatures."

  "I'm okay with it." I crouched low to grab at a couple cockroaches that had escaped, and tossed them into the fire. "It's the cost of two ecosystems clashing, I'm afraid. Desert and rainforest, Northern and Southern hemispheres competing for survival."

  "You're from the Amazon." She washed her hands with water from the hose. "Can you think of a way to fix my insect problem? Obviously, Brazil isn't overrun by these insects. What could I try?"

  I faced the forest and wanted to lose my shirt and hiking boots to run through the trees and palms. It was so real, I half-expected to see my friend Duppo jog from the bluff, carrying the day's hunt.

  "If I tell you, Elizabeth, and if it works for you, I'd like something in return."

  "I already have a boyfriend."

  "No, not that." I chuckled.

  "And I'm not interested in your religious perspective."

  "How about this?" I said, ignoring her criticism. "I'll trade you for some plants I'd like to have."

  "No, that's against our policy. The ecosystem and all that. It's not allowed."

  "What about dead plants?" I pointed toward the swamp at the base of the forest.

  "Three or four stalks of those plants there. I'll burn them here before I leave. You can keep their roots, so they'll grow back. I only want the ashes of their stalks. That can't be against the law."

  "Ashes?" She came to stand next to me. The sun peeked through the edge of the dome. "What good are the ashes? What do they do?"

  "It's a secret." I smiled. "But do we have a deal? I can solve your cockroach problem in a matter of weeks."

  "Really?" She angled her head. "Don't tease me. Investors are always threatening to defund this place because botanists have told them about the insects."

  "Green tree frogs."

  "What?"

  "The real Amazon has green tree frogs, all kinds of frogs. Green tree frogs will kill the insects at night, and they'll add to the sounds in here in the summer. But frogs won't help with thrips, mealy-bugs, and aphis. You're on your own with those."

  "Green tree frogs?"

  "Yes." My phone vibrated. "Excuse me."

  When I answered my phone, he
r face was skeptical, but she would see for herself if she did what I said.

  "Cord?" It was Fletcher. "You said you lived in Brazil, right? The part of Brazil where they speak Portuguese?"

  "They speak some sort of Portuguese all over Brazil, Fletcher. What's this about?"

  "Do you know Portuguese? Fluently?"

  "Yes. Fluently."

  "I need you down here in lockup. How soon can you get down to Palo Verde?"

  "Right away." I heard the urgency in his voice. "I'm leaving now."

  I assured Elizabeth Ardent that I would visit again soon, specifically to collect my plants for burning, then I left.

  When I parked across from the county jail, a crowd of protestors carried a banner past me. I couldn't read the banner, but I heard their chants as they continued up the street toward a liquor store. They chanted, "Independence from dependence!" I didn't know what angered them, but I distinctly recognized that they were from my generation and younger.

  Inside the jail, I was waved through two electronic steel doors before I was greeted by Fletcher, who looked like he'd been up all night. He dumped the remainder of a cup of coffee in a wastebasket.

  "Not here," he whispered, then led me into the same control room that looked in on the two interrogation rooms.

  In one interrogation room sat a conservatively-dressed Hispanic woman. Brazilian, I could tell. In the other sat a man I recognized as Councilman Roger McMaster, the human trafficker whose profile still afflicted my mind.

  "There was a massage parlor sting overnight," Fletcher said softly, as if concerned we were overheard even though we were alone in the room. "Sometimes I get called in for extra duty—usually just paperwork. Don't forget, they love me around here."

  "I remember." I smiled.

  "When a shop like this doesn't pay its protection fees, the police raid the place. It's routine for dirty cops. Except for this time, it wasn't routine."

  He nodded at Roger McMaster, and sighed loudly.

  "He was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time?" I asked.

  "This could be my opportunity to put him away. Look at him. That bowtie. Smug. Picking at his manicured fingernails. Everyone wants me to release him. He's got dirt on lots of important people."