Swayed by his anger, Delroy felt pulled toward the creature’s way of thinking. God was powerful. There was a lot He could have done. If He’d wanted to, if He’d cared enough about Delroy.
“God has His plans for people,” the thing said. “That’s what I keep hearing all you people say. All you would-be believers. That’s just you trying to make something important out of the brief flicker of existence you’ve been given.” It scowled. “I’m telling you now that He doesn’t even care you exist. If He even knows.”
It would be so easy to blame God, Delroy knew. He’d seen people do it all the time. Sailors he’d counseled had blamed God for losses and fears and changes in their lives when Delroy had talked with them. People who had attended his father’s church in Marbury had blamed God for the bad things that had happened in their lives, too. For a time, Delroy had blamed God for his father’s murder but had somehow found his way around that.
Until tonight.
Or maybe I never did, Delroy told himself. Maybe I was only fooling myself.
Terrence’s death, so unexpected and so unfair, had caused those strong feelings to rear up again, and that unresolved anger had carried Delroy far from the Lord, although he still ministered in His ways. He’d been on autopilot, giving lip service to something he no longer truly believed in.
A memory returned to Delroy as he shifted. Josiah’s own father, Jonah, had lived as a hard man. He’d drunk and gambled and lived a life of violence, raising his family amid poverty and abuse, neither of which he tried to alleviate. During that time, Jonah had barely acknowledged his son.
When cancer had finally taken Jonah, Josiah had spent those last days with his father, caring for him and ministering to him in spite of the fact that his father had cursed him and God. At the end, though, Jonah had come to know Jesus and was saved through his son’s work. The old man had died peacefully in Josiah’s arms.
Later, in the quiet of the funeral home after the families had all gone and Josiah had sat with Jonah composing the eulogy he would deliver, six-year-old Delroy had returned to find his father still there. Without a word, Delroy had tiptoed over to Josiah and stood beside him. Tenderly, Josiah had picked Delroy up from the floor and set him in his lap. He’d wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight. Delroy had felt warm and safe in his father’s embrace, and he knew even then that his father had taken comfort from his presence.
“Are you okay, Daddy?” Delroy had asked. “You’ve been crying a lot.”
“Not all of these tears are sad tears, Son. Some of ‘em, why they’re tears of gladness because I know my daddy isn’t hurting anymore. It’s just hard to let him go.”
“I didn’t want to let Grampa go either, Daddy.”
“I know. But we had to.”
“See? You’re crying again, Daddy. Me and Momma, we’re worried about you. She says she’s never seen you so brokenhearted.”
“I’ll be okay, Son. God will heal my heart the same way He healed Grampa Jonah’s there at the end. The Lord will take away all the pain an’ fear an’ anger. I just gotta be a little bit patient till He gets around to it. I know Gram’pa Jonah’s in a better place, but it still hurts turnin’ loose.”
“He was your daddy.”
“Yes, he was.”
Delroy had sat quietly with his arms around his father. Even now he could remember the smell of his father’s aftershave, the same brand of bay rum the barber used when they got store-bought haircuts on days that Etta was too sick or too busy to do the job herself.
“Don’t you wish God had made Grampa Jonah love you sooner?”
Delroy had asked. “Instead of waiting all this time? Wouldn’t that have been better?”
Tears had glimmered in Josiah’s eyes, but he’d looked at his son and nodded. “Yes, I do, but I’m thankful for bein’ with Grampa Jonah as much as I could. I was there for him at the end, an’ that was important for both of us to end this thing right. Mighty important.”
Delroy felt cheated. His father and his son had died away from him, both of them meeting violent ends with no family around to see them through their final moments. Neither event had been fair.
“See?” the creature asked in a soft voice, tearing into Delroy’s memory. “You know God doesn’t care about you. You know what I’m saying is true. If He’s given you any notice at all, it’s only been for the sake of torturing you on a more personal level.”
Pain and confusion reeled over Delroy. He’d never truly gotten over either of those deaths and he’d known that long before tonight. But he was certain he had never felt those losses more strongly than he did right then.
“How dare God take your father and then your son,” the creature said softly, barely audible above the steady rainfall. “How dare He do that when you have given Him so much of yourself.”
For a moment, Delroy was mesmerized by the solemn conviction in the thing’s voice. Everything it said sounded so right and true. His mind felt thick; thinking past his pain and anger got hard.
“God,” the thing continued in that soft, understanding cadence, “had no right to take
