Delroy tried to speak but couldn’t.
“It’s an easy thing to do, Chaplain,” Walter said.
“Not for me,” Delroy said fiercely. “Never once did I ever think I would resent Glenda for anything. I took a vow before God to cherish her always. I didn’t.” His voice broke, betraying the strong emotion that vibrated inside him. “I was supposed to be stronger than that. My father raised me up to be stronger than that.”
“Your daddy,” Walter stated gently, “wasn’t there. And it wasn’t him asked to give up a son, Delroy. It was you. You were entitled to your grief. Still are. I ain’t finding no fault with that.”
Delroy brushed tears from his eyes before they could fall; then he willed them to stop. “Not five years of grief.” He kept his voice flat and neutral. “I’m being selfish. I just—I just don’t know how to stop. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“You’re human. Ain’t nothing wrong with being human. Just hard wearin’ from time to time.” Walter shifted. “I seen men what didn’t care about nothin’. Seen ‘em on battlefields and I seen ‘em in law enforcement. Some of them men even wore badges now and again, and that was real hard to witness and not do nothing.”
“I’m a navy chaplain,” Delroy said. “A preacher’s son. My father taught me my faith.”
Walter was quiet for a time. “One thing I learned through losing my own son: God’s grace is never known to you till after the fact. Sometimes, I suppose, it ain’t gonna be known till you’re in the hereafter. I still struggle with my own belief, but I believe God is there. Just haven’t figured out my own relationship with Him. I guess that’s why I’m still here. I look around this town, Reverend, and I see a lot of good folks stuck in much the same boat.”
“Pretty good Christians.” Captain Mark Falkirk’s final words aboard Wasp’s flight deck echoed in Delroy’s mind: “The most dangerous man on this planet is the person who believes he is a pretty good Christian.”
“That’s as good a term for it as any other,” Walter said. “Good people that, for whatever reason, just didn’t make the final cut. Now, I believe the world was raptured. I’m sure you do too. So that means we got a limited time to make a difference. Not just in our lives, but in the lives of others. Me, I’m a man what’s always stood on the right of things. Straight and narrow. That’s how I’ve lived ‘er. When I could. And I could most of the time.”
Delroy met the other man’s gaze with difficulty.
“Now, I usually ain’t one to go around taking chances,” Walter continued. “Before all this happened, before I started opening up my Bible and reading Revelation, why if I’d come across you in that graveyard, found out the man who murdered your daddy and your ex-wife was living in this town, I’d have had you locked up for observation in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Just to keep the peace.”
“I would never hurt Glenda,” Delroy said. “I give you my word on that.”
“And now I believe you about that. But you see, I know she’s got her own grief she’s dealing with. She didn’t just lose her son; she lost her husband, and weren’t none of that her fault. Might be her that started something, and I’d end up with the same problem.”
The deputy’s words cut through Delroy. He couldn’t imagine Glenda doing something like that. But after what he’d done, after what they’d both suffered—No. She still wouldn’t do anything like that. The deputy just doesn’t know her.
“I know how she probably feels,” Walter said. “Because that’s how my own wife felt. I know that ‘cause she cared enough about me to get riled up and tell me about it over and over. Till I owned up to it and pulled my head back on straight.” He sipped his coffee. “Now, it ain’t been easy, but I worked at it. Still do.” He held his left forefinger and thumb about an inch apart. “Little bit ever’ day. Reckon I always will. And as long as I have to, I’ll see that it gets done.”
Delroy glanced out the big window overlooking the street in front of the café. Sluggish morning traffic passed by only occasionally.
“I can’t go see my wife,” Delroy said.
“Wasn’t suggesting that you do. In fact, I’m thinking it might be better for the both of you to wait until you get your head together.”
“I can’t guarantee that will happen either.”
“Didn’t expect you to. The kind of changes you’re gonna have to make are gonna take years.”
Years. The word sounded like a prison sentence to Delroy.
“But I will remind you of one thing,” Walter said. “These changes you gotta make? You’re running out of time. Way I read my Bible, there’s only—”
“Seven years,” Delroy said.
Walter nodded. “Less than that already. Figured you’d know. Don’t help with the clock ticking, but I guess that’s how it’s gotta be.”
“It’s hard to care.”
“Yes, sir. I expect it is. But you listen to me, Chaplain. Whatever chance you got of seeing your boy again—whole, hale, and hearty—why it’s through the sacrifice Jesus made to take our sins on and the grace of God Almighty that you’re gonna get it done. The way I figure it, you still got His work ahead of you.”
“There’s a reason I didn’t go back to my ship,” Delroy said. “I don’t belong there. Those men are involved in a war zone. There are chaplains aboard Wasp that can do what they need done. I’m not the rock they need.”
He felt guilty when he said that. He’d signed on to take care of those responsibilities. For the last five years, though, he’d hidden aboard Wasp more than he had attended to God’s work. The Lord had been given lip service and short shrift. And if that won’t send a chaplain straight to hell, I don’t know what will.
“Wasn’t
