On Every Side Part 8

Oh, they are, are they? Jordan raised a single eyebrow. Despite his boss's warning that this case could gain national attention, Jordan hadn't really expected a fight. Case precedent on such matters was clear: Whenever a city had chosen to erect a reli-gious display or statue, almost without exception the city had been made to take it down. Jordan wondered if maybe Faith was talking about herself or if she knew for a fact that citizens had already rallied against him.

Faith turned to her partner. "Quite a case, huh?"

Ron shook his head. "Bound to be in the news for a while."

The camera hadn't focused back in on her, but still Faith con-tinued the conversation with her coworker. "I'm from Bethany as you know, and all I can say is that this Jordan Riley-whoever he is-doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

Jordan felt as though he'd been stepped on by an elephant. Whoever he is? Faith-his childhood best friend, the woman he'd kissed so gently the other night-had referred to him on East Coast television as whoever he is? She must be furious with him. The knowledge of that truth cast another strange layer of grief over him. What was wrong with him? Was he surprised that she was angry? He should have expected it the moment he realized she still lived in Bethany.

No, there was nothing shocking about Faith's reaction. After all, Jordan had always known how she loved Jericho Park and the Jesus statue in particular. But somehow he'd hoped she might understand, that she might see how G.o.d had let him down, how He'd taken his mother, his sister... even his chance at a relation-ship with Faith. Jordan wasn't the bad guy here, couldn't she see that? Jesus was.

The lawsuit was an act of mercy, really. No city in America should have a statue honoring such a cruel G.o.d.

The minute the newscast was over, d.i.c.k Baker marched across the soundstage, the capillaries in his temples purplish and threatening to burst through his skin. He pointed his finger at Faith's partner. "Leonard, out!" d.i.c.k's bellow echoed off the stage's fiberboard sets.

Faith gulped. Ij he fires me, Lord, let me get out of here without crying. Ron Leonard, his hair and stage makeup still perfect, scowled at their boss, looking as if he might argue the station manager's approach. But instead he gathered his things and stormed off the stage. When he was gone, d.i.c.k turned to her.

"I warned you, Evans. What you did out there tonight was over the top. I mean completely unprofessional." He was breathing hard, his face almost as red as the veins in his neck. "The story didn't call for you to talk about the citizens of Bethany. What...were you out taking a private poll this morning?" He barely paused to grab another mouthful of air before he answered himself. "Of course you weren't. You said hundreds of citizens from Bethany and other towns were expected to be at the hearing and that is simply a lie. A complete fabrication of the facts."

There were knots in Faith's gut but it was too late to back down now. She'd made the decision to express her opinion on the air because it was the least she could do. If people knew that Faith Evans didn't want the Jesus statue moved, they'd likely side with her. She had that kind of following. The elderly saw her as a pretty daughter they needed to protect. Women related to her freshness and lack of guile, and men, well, it had never been dif-ficult for Faith to gain the support of men. Not since she was ten years old and won a beauty pageant at the county fair.

He was waiting for an answer, and Faith met his gaze head on. Okay, G.o.d, give me the strength...

"I live in Bethany, d.i.c.k. I know the way people think there. It'll probably be more like a thousand people. That's how much they love that statue."

"No one-" he shouted the words and then gritted his teeth as he struggled to tone his voice down- "no one at this station is free to present his or her own news without some kind of outside research. Otherwise we're reduced to a group of op-ed mouth-pieces spewing our thoughts and our ideas and our take on the news as it relates to us!" He paced two steps out and then back again, his hand raised for emphasis. "And what was that ad-lib thing you did? The camera wasn't anywhere near you! It was Ron's turn to speak, and all of a sudden we hear little Miss Opinionated talking about how this attorney from HOUR doesn't know what he's gotten himself into?" d.i.c.k ma.s.saged his temples with his thumb and forefinger, then he peered over the top of his hand and his eyes locked on hers. "Who in the world gave you permission to make such a statement?"

Faith didn't blink. "Ad-libbing is part of the job. It sounds conversational and approachable and friendly. It makes viewers tune back in tomorrow. Remember, d.i.c.k? Those were your words from last month's editorial meeting."

d.i.c.k glared at her and slammed his raised hand down on the countertop between Faith and him. She started from the ferocity of it. "You know darn well what I meant in that meeting! I was talking about scripted ad-libs. The kind that bridge us from news to weather, and weather to sports. Not a free-for-all, utterly biased conversation where all of Philadelphia gets to hear Faith Evans's opinion of HOUR."

Faith sighed. "Listen, d.i.c.k, I'm sorry I didn't think it was out of line."

The station manager threw his hands in the air. "Sometimes I can't believe the networks are considering you for a national spot. I mean, don't get me wrong, Evans. You're beautiful and bright and you connect with our viewers like no other female anchor in the last decade." He moved closer and the corners of his eyes narrowed. "But the network has made it clear that I'll lose my job if I let you or anyone else use airtime for their own agenda. I can-not-will not-tolerate your Christian posturing on my news program." He was so upset his hand shook and he drew it back. "I could fire you, Evans, you know that?"

She knew he was right. Her contract included a promise of no biased reporting, which meant that even though it might look to the public like religious discrimination if she was let go, the truth was it would be perfectly legal.

Do not be dismayed, daughter, I am with you...

The sudden silent reminder of G.o.d's presence in her heart caused a warm calming feeling to spread out from her gut. Baker was waiting for an answer, and Faith forced herself to reply. "Yes, sir. I know"

"You will take tomorrow off without pay and you're to see me before going on the air Thursday."

Thursday? That meant she wouldn't be there for the Wednesday's Child segment. If she didn't do it, no one would. She had planned on running the segment on Rosa again in hopes that someone, somewhere would fall as quickly in love with the pre-cious child as Faith had. Making her miss Wednesday was the worst punishment her boss could have meted out. Lord, see what happens when I try to stand up for my beliefs? What good did it do? There were no words in response, only images. A candle under a bushel, a buried coin, and walls around something Faith couldn't quite make out. It didn't matter, the message was the same: G.o.d wanted her to be bold, no matter the cost.

d.i.c.k's voice was so loud Faith was sure most everyone at the station could hear him. "Tomorrow I'll write up a probation form, which we will both sign...and the next time you pull a stunt like this, Evans, you're fired. It's that simple. You can forget about any help from the network. The big boys like your talent, but pretty mouthpieces are a dime a dozen. If I don't keep the executives happy they'll have both of us gone before the week-end." He lowered his face so that he could stare straight at her. "Have I made myself clear?"

There was no point arguing. "Yes, sir."

d.i.c.k spun and walked away. Faith watched him go and knew she should have felt discouraged, and she was-about missing Wednesday's Child the following day. But as she left the station she felt strangely inspired, uplifted-as though she'd taken the first step toward a life that G.o.d had been calling her to for years. It was a small step, but it was in the right direction, and though her job hung in the balance, Faith was curiously unconcerned.

By walking the narrow path ahead of her she somehow knew she would be safer and more secure than at any other time in her life. Faith paused as regret hit her over one fact: Jordan had become an enemy overnight, someone attacking her home, and she wondered for the hundredth time since Joshua's call why her long-ago friend had filed the lawsuit in the first place.

And how he'd had the nerve to hide the fact from her that night at the diner-and later in the parking lot. He had filed suit that very day... he must have known she would be upset by it. Otherwise he wouldn't have been so evasive when she asked him why he was in town.

The thought of it turned Faith's stomach.

Had he only wanted to trick her, use her for a night of remi-niscing? And what did he have against Jericho Park and the Jesus statue? Faith had no answers, but there was someone who did. As she climbed into her car that night she made a plan to get Jordan's phone number and call him.

Even if it was the last time the two of them ever talked.

The easiest way to find him, Faith knew, was to call the HOUR organization in New York, so at two o'clock in the after-noon the next day from her mother's kitchen she did just that. Once Faith had Jordan's number from the operator, she was con-nected to his secretary in less than a minute.

"Jordan Riley please." Faith put on her professional voice, hoping to ward off any censoring by the woman.

There was silence for a beat. "Who may I say is calling?"

"Faith Evans. It's about a case we're working on."

Again there was a hesitation. "Just a moment, please..."

Faith sat back in the kitchen chair and forced herself to be calm. I can't believe it's true Jordan... you've sold out to the other side, given up the precious faith you and your mother and your- "h.e.l.lo?" The voice at the other end lacked any of the warmth it had held the other night, back when he'd wrapped her in his arms and...

"It's Faith." She could hear ice in her own voice as well and she felt as though she were lying, as though the role of enemy didn't quite fit yet.

"Faith, I was going to call you torn-"

"Don't lie to me, Jordan." She was maintaining her cool exte-rior, not showing too much emotion. "You knew you weren't going to call from the moment you saw me at the station."

He was silent and Faith took the cue." Listen, obviously you're upset and mixed up. You must have personal reasons for wanting our statue down, for suing Bethany over the Jesus statue... but I meant what I said."

"Which was?" He, too, sounded dry and businesslike. Gone was the man she'd connected with, the one whose voice had been heavy with years of memories and longing.

"The whole town will turn out." She was careful with her words. "I think you're making a huge mistake."

A laugh void of any humor came at her in response. "You really don't get it, do you, Faith?"

She hated his condescending tone. "No, I really don't. The Jordan Riley I knew would have loved G.o.d too much to attack Him in court."

"I've changed since then. Grown up. I thought you could see it that night... when we were together."

Faith felt her stomach tighten. "The man I was with was not someone different. He was the same boy I loved as a kid."

"The same-" Jordan's voice was softer this time, but he cut himself short. When he spoke again it was with fire. "I prayed to Jesus, Faith. The same Jesus honored by that stupid statue. And what did it ever get me? My mother died, my sister was sent off to live with strangers, and I never heard from her again. I never heard from you, either. I lost everything that mattered to me that year, Faith. And the reason it hurt so bad was because of the Jesus statue."

In the silence that followed, a light began to dawn in the shadowy places of Faith's heart. Jordan blamed G.o.d for the losses in his life. And now he was trying to get rid of the Jesus statue as his way of exacting revenge." Why the statue?"

"Because-" his words were like bullets spewing from a semi-automatic- "because there's no such thing as a Jesus like the one in the statue. A Jesus with open arms, welcoming those around Him to come, to bring their troubles and lay them at His feet so that He might make things right again. G.o.d-if there is a G.o.d- is a hands-off, mad scientist. Someone who set the world in motion and then stood back to watch it self-destruct."

Faith leaned forward, physically ill at Jordan's anger toward the G.o.d they had once worshiped side by side in church and Sunday school. Lord, how did this happen?How had Jordan missed the point that G.o.d didn't promise a trouble-free life, just peace and joy and friendship through the troubles? "I'm sorry Jordan. I... I didn't know you felt that way"

"Well I do, and you ought to feel the same way" He huffed. "The Lord took your dad, He took away your relationship with that football player, and because of the accident He took a year of your life. How can you defend a G.o.d like that?"

What struck Faith most was that Jordan honestly had no answers for himself. "I can defend Him because He loves me. He loves you too, Jordan."

"Wake up, Faith. He could care less about either of us."

She sighed. "I don't want to get into a theological debate. I just want to warn you. The Jesus statue belongs to the people of Bethany, and any battle you wage there is one you'll ultimately lose."

"Then I guess I'll see you and the rest of the town in court." His voice was sharp and cool, lacking even the anger it had held earlier. "Good-bye, Faith."

Jordan hung up before she could say anything else, and her own anger rose in her defense-then an image filled her head. Jordan Riley thirteen years old, kneeling on damp gra.s.s in the freezing still of night a few feet from the Jesus statue, begging G.o.d to let his mother live.

Faith closed her eyes and felt tears spill onto her cheeks. She bowed her head and prayed for her father's old law partner, Joshua, and the people of Bethany, that they might have strength to fight the battle of Jericho Park. Then, with a full and broken heart, she prayed for the boy she had grown up with, the one she had once dreamed of marrying, the one who had lost so much the winter of his thirteenth year.

And for the bitter man he'd become.

Eleven.

Heidi and Charles were stretched out on their living room sofa enjoying the opportunity to chat about their move to Bethany Charles had given notice at the hos-pital, and for the most part everything was in order. Heidi watched him now, the love in his eyes, the way he cared so much about her happiness. He put his hand on her belly and smiled.

"It's getting bigger."

She pushed her fist into his shoulder and giggled. "Not it, silly Her."

"Ah, another princess in the house!" He laughed. "Ultrasounds can be wrong, remember. Happens at the clinic every day"

"Not this time. I have a feeling about her." Heidi placed a pro-tective hand over her abdomen. "She's our little sweetheart." Her eyes lifted to his and her heart felt light as air. "I can actually picture her."

The baby kicked, and a grin spread across Charles's face. "Must be a girl. She's feisty, just like her mother."

He snuggled in close to her, his arm around her midsection as though he were cradling them both. "You don't mind moving in November... right after the baby's born?"

She chuckled and ran her fingers through his hair. "As long as I've got you and G.o.d on my side, I can do anything."

There was a comfortable silence between them and Heidi stared out the window at the gold and maroon leaves on the tree. Fall was her favorite time of year. Summer's last hurrah-its shout that life is, and life will come again. It was the time of year her mother had gotten sick, a time when Jordan had been her greatest strength, her pillar of hope that G.o.d would work through their mother's illness no matter what happened. Even after their mother died Jordan had been strong for her, holding her, a.s.suring her that one day they'd all be together in heaven.

Heidi sighed. Days like this it was easy to picture Jordan as he'd been back then, dark-haired and muscle bound, eyes glowing with sincerity What if he hadn't been in the cave that terrible afternoon at the boys' camp? What if the state had kept them together instead of separating them?

"You okay?" Charles brushed her bangs to the side and looked into her eyes. "Feels like you're a million miles away"

"I am." She snuggled against his shoulder and resumed her study of autumn out their living room window "Just thinking about Mom and Jordan."

Charles exhaled through pursed lips, and she could feel his concern for her. He understood the place in her heart that would always remember, always yearn for the people of her childhood days, for her mother and brother. An idea occurred to her and she turned her attention back to Charles. "What if we name her Jordan Lee?"

Charles c.o.c.ked his head thoughtfully and then drew near and kissed her. "I like it."

"Really? You do?" Her mood soared with the possibility that her little girl might carry on her brother's name. The name of an uncle her daughter would never know "From everything you've told me about Jordan, he was kind and strong and loving. He cared deeply about G.o.d and his fam-ily. Our little girl couldn't have a better name."

Heidi buried her head in Charles' shoulder again. "I love you so much. Thanks for understanding."

He squeezed her once. "You make it easy"

A few minutes pa.s.sed and he grabbed the remote control. "I want to see what the president said in his address last night."

They watched the opening story and after a few minutes Heidi stood up. "I'll get dinner." She moved behind Charles and ma.s.saged his neck and shoulders.

"Mmm." He closed his eyes and the corners of his mouth lifted. "Can't we just skip dinner?"

She laughed and gave him a final squeeze." You might not need it, but I'm eating for two." She ducked her head in front of him, kissed him on the cheek, and left the room.

Charles craned his neck and watched her go. How did he get so lucky, anyway? Married to the perfect woman and about to be a first-time father? He turned his attention back to the television. It was good to see Heidi smile. Too often this time of the year she was lost in thought, remembering ghosts from her past. He sighed and flicked the channel. If there was one thing he was anxious to ask G.o.d, it was why He'd taken Jordan Riley so young. Hadn't it been enough to call Heidi's mother home with-out taking her brother too? A news program played on but Charles was too lost in thought to hear it.

He wasn't angry with the Lord, just curious.

It didn't matter that he'd never met Jordan. Charles had heard enough about him to feel like family, as though he could easily recognize him if he pa.s.sed him on the street. Clearly Heidi had been crazy about her brother, and every fall her feelings for him came back stronger than ever. The reason was simple: During the hardest time in Heidi's life, Jordan had meant everything to her.

The news program moved onto another story, and Charles focused on what was being said. Something about a park in Bethany and a lawsuit to remove a statue. He tried to make sense of the story, but he'd already missed too many details. He won-dered if Heidi knew about the case. Probably. He leaned back into the couch and yawned. Maybe he'd talk to her about it over dinner. His thoughts shifted to the playoffs and whether the National League had a team worthy of the World Series. For that master, where the big games would be held that year and whether he'd have a chance to take in any baseball action before the move.

By the time Heidi called him for dinner, he'd completely for-gotten about Jericho Park and the obscure news item regarding a legal fight over some statue, or the fact that he'd ever intended to bring up the story to Heidi in the first place.

Twelve.

In the small law office in Bethany, the weeks pa.s.sed in a blur of case study and preparation for Joshua Nunn. But when the day of the hearing arrived, he felt no more prepared than the day he'd been given the case, the day he'd had the strange dream.

"You ready to beat this guy?" Frank had asked in a phone call that morning.

Joshua hadn't, been sure how to answer him. Frank was the mayor after all, the one who had put such faith in Joshua's abili-ties in the first place. From the beginning he had known it would be a tough case to win. Now that he'd had a chance to study case precedent, he was fairly sure it was impossible.

A pain took root in his gut. I'll give it my best."

"Don't worry about a thing, old friend! We've got the Lord on our side."

That much was sure, Joshua knew. Twice in the past week various churches had held prayer rallies at Jericho Park with as many as three hundred people-singing and agreeing with each other that the Jesus statue was part of who they were, a key facet of their town's history and personality. The gatherings had done a great job of making the townspeople heard. All three local net-work affiliates had carried stories about the public outcry on their nightly news, making Faith Evans look like a prophet.

"Think there'll be a group at the courthouse?"