The Lies We Believe: A Christian Suspense Novel Page 5

  "It's fine, Ron. Promise." Reaching down, she grabbed my hand and gave it a warm squeeze. I was happy she came with me, and I had a good feeling about the two of us and the future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "JACOB'S BLESSING DIDN'T COME BY stealing his brother Esau's birthright, but through the wrestling he later did with God. You see, when he stole his brother's birthright, he couldn't even stick around to enjoy it. He had to go on the run. His brother wanted to kill him. Jacob was gone from his brother's presence for twenty-one years." The Pastor walked over to the podium and looked down at the open Bible.

  "Picking up in Genesis 32:24. 'So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.' You see, God does His best work with us when we are alone. It's not when we're surrounded by people, and it's not when we have a ton of support all around us. It's not when we have all this stuff in our life. Jacob sent all his stuff and everybody over the river, and then he wrestled with a man. Let's keep going. Picking up in verse 25. 'When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob's hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. Then the man said, "Let me go, for it is daybreak." But Jacob replied, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." ' "

  Walking away from the Bible and the podium, Pastor Clarkson didn't speak a word but let the words resonate into the congregation's souls. The sound of his shoes was the only thing that could be heard in that sanctuary as he walked around to the front of the podium. Then he made it down the stairs in front of the church. He was now eye-level with us all, and he looked across the sea of faces. Licking his lips, his face weighed heavy with a frown, with conviction in his own heart. Pressing a finger against his chest, he said, "God told Jacob to let go, and he refused to let go. He kept holding onto Him even though he had pain. I ask myself, can I hold onto God even when I'm in pain?"

  Another bout of silence filled the atmosphere in the sanctuary as the pastor walked back up the steps toward the podium. Conviction hung in the air. Turning at the top of the steps, the pastor shook his head. "We have all had pain in life, spots we have been through which were difficult and trying, but how often do we keep holding onto God when it'd be easier to just let go?" Turning, he went over to the podium. "That glass of wine, that joint, that cigarette . . . all can calm the nerves in a second flat. How often do we let go of God and reach for what the world is offering? That’s my question to each of us."

  My mind thought of my father. The trouble I had gotten into right after he passed away. Running with Jimmy from down at the bar. Thought of my failed marriage with Maria. When things got tough, I'd leave the house for hours at a time, go meet up with Jimmy, go hang out with my dad. My heart wrenched with conviction over reaching for what the world had offered instead of God. I knew God had erased my sin with the blood of Jesus, but that didn't change the guilty conscience I had left over from my choices in my past.

  Turning my eyes to Teresa beside me, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks. My heart rejoiced at seeing the impact of God on her expression. Seeing the box of Kleenex by the end of the pew, I handed it to her, then turned my eyes back to Pastor Clarkson.

  He closed the Bible at the podium. "Maybe you're here today and you're wrestling with God. Not by a river, but inside your soul." He pressed his chest, tapping it with his finger again. He shook his head and scanned the congregation. "Nobody else is inside your soul with you right now. Not the person sitting next to you, not me, not anybody but you and God. I know someone is here right now, and they are in the wrestling match of their life. I’ve got news for you. God loves you. He cares about you so much that He allowed His son to die on the cross just to have a relationship with you. It's through God's own Son, Jesus Christ, and His death, burial, and resurrection three days later, that you have the chance to not only experience a relationship with your Creator, your God, but to find peace when—not if, but when—struggles come into your life. Pray with me."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  AGREEING TO LUNCH WITH Fred and his wife, Marjorie, Teresa and I agreed to meet them at The Swan, a new restaurant that had opened last month. Teresa rode over to the restaurant in my truck. The entire length of the ride, she seemed distracted. I remembered the tears during church, but I didn’t pry about them. I knew everybody had their own way of processing matters of the heart. I figured she knew I was here to talk if she needed an ear.

  As we pulled up to the restaurant, I noticed another round of tears suddenly showing up. My heart was moved with compassion, and I looked over at her as I felt led to say something.

  "You can talk to me about what's going on if you want."

  Our eyes met for a moment, and then she quickly looked out her window, scooting slightly in her seat away from me. I thought it was useless, but then she started to say, "The sermon . . ." Her words stopped, sounding as if they got caught in her throat. She shrugged and continued. "That pastor's words. They moved within me in a way that made me feel so strange—bad strange, but also alive. It was like nothing I had ever felt before." Her tear-soaked eyes turned and looked at me.

  I reached over and touched her hand as my heart knew the truth of the matter. "That was conviction that you felt, Teresa. God’s tugging on your heart."

  "Convicting me of what, though, Ron?" She shook her head, confused by my words. "Conviction of what? I am trying to get ahead in my life for myself, but I didn’t steal anything. I got here on my own. I wasn’t like Jacob who stole that blessing. So what if I want to get ahead. What's so wrong with that?" Her tone carried a little edge to it.

  "Your conviction is because you’re not perfect and you’re a sinner. Getting ahead in life isn't a sin. We're all sinners, Teresa. God requires perfection, and He sent Jesus to die on the Cross for our sins. He's the only way not only to Heaven, but to peace, love, joy, and true happiness in this life. What's a million dollars in the bank if you don't have peace when you lay your head down at night? It's nothing. At least, that's my experience on this earth for the last four and a half decades. You know, this world is full of empty promises, but God is full of blessings and filling promises."

  She managed a smile as she dabbed her eyes with one of the Kleenexes she had held onto from earlier. Looking me in the eyes, she said, "Thanks, Ron.”

  "You’re welcome. You ready for lunch?" I asked, shifting the subject away to let it simmer on the back burner of her mind.

  She agreed with an excited and refreshed look on her face. I wouldn't mention the topic again to her, but that wouldn't stop me from praying every day for her. It was clear from the car ride and her response to the sermon that the Lord was calling her. It was up to her to respond.

  As we got out of the car, the woman in black with a ponytail that I had seen earlier at the church began to approach us with a quick stride across the parking lot. Stepping in front of Teresa to protect her from the reporter, I felt a measure of anxiety rise within me.

  "What's the meaning of this, Teresa?" the woman asked, stopping short of me. She leaned to one side, looking past me and connecting her eyes with Teresa. It was obvious right then that she wasn't just a reporter but someone whom Teresa knew.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GETTING TO OUR SEATS A few minutes later, I pressed Teresa about her friend, Katie Thompson, I had been introduced to in the parking lot. I wanted to know why she’d lied about her at church. One lie was simple enough, but one is never the case. What else was Teresa hiding?

  "Why the lie about a reporter? You gave so much detail about it to me."

  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes carried a regret as she took a seat in the chair I pulled out for her at the table.

  I sat in the chair beside her, and the waiter set up two other spots across from us for Fred and Marjorie.

  “Teresa?" I pried.

  She let out a long sigh and turned fully to me. Her frown hinted at a smile as she grazed my cheek with a hand. "Ron, I like you, but I don't want to go into it right now."

  M
y curiosity heightened. A grimace crossed my face and I raised an eyebrow. "Secrets? I'm not a kid, and I don't play games, Teresa." I began to get up to leave when she grabbed my arm, pulling me back to my seat.

  I sat.

  She shook her head as she leaned over and fished something out of her purse. "I really didn't want to go into detail about this, but I don't want to lose you over it. I think you and I could have a future, and Katie messing that up would be silly. I'm her sponsor from Alcoholics Anonymous, okay?" She reached her hand out and opened it up to reveal a gold coin. "I've been sober for ten years. Katie was having a bad trigger this morning and needed to talk. I make it a point to be available no matter what the case might be."

  I had to be redder than a cherry as I felt like the biggest jerk in the world. Rubbing a hand over my face, I shook my head as regret overtook me and she put the coin back in her purse.

  "I'm so sorry, Teresa." My head hanging in shame, I looked up at her. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I shouldn't have pressed so hard to know. That wasn't right."

  She touched my hand, assuring me she wasn't mad with the look she gave me that followed. "It's okay, Ron. You're human. After all your ex put you through, I'm not surprised if you were a little worried in life."

  Nodding, I said, "But I need to trust you or this will never work out." I reached a hand over to hers on the table and gave it a confirming squeeze. "We need to trust each other from now on."

  The rest of the time we waited for Frank and Marjorie to show up, I felt convicted over how I had acted toward Teresa. I was thankful she didn't freak out and leave. She had every right. We hardly even knew each other. Moving forward, I made a promise to myself to give her the benefit of the doubt from now on. I couldn't let the past bleed into the future and ruin what we had. I had to learn to trust.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ON THE FOLLOWING EVENING, I heard the sound of someone pulling into the driveway. Stopping my work in my shop, I scooted out from underneath the truck and got up. Wiping my hands off on the rag that was sitting on the workbench, I went out to see who was paying me a surprise visit. Dust and the sunset on the horizon mixed together, making it hard to see the car pulling in. Bringing a hand up to shade my eyes, I saw it was my daughter.

  "This is a surprise," I said, beaming as I held out my arms and approached her as she got out of the car and headed my way.

  "It was for me too, but I had to come out here and talk to you in person, Dad.”

  “Wow. Must be some news.”

  We hugged.

  “I met Henry."

  I was happy she wanted to talk, but I wasn't exactly thrilled it had to do with the cult again. Releasing, I took a deep breath and turned, heading toward the house.

  “I was down on Division, you know, at the soup kitchen Grandma used to eat at?"

  My steps stopped, slips of the painful memories pelting against my mind. I hated my mom for what she had done to my dad, but I hated more what she did in the last six months of her life. My jaw clenched and I turned around. "You were at the mission?"

  Emily nodded and her eyes became weighed with sadness. "I saw all those people down there. They were all hurting, all of them. I wonder if Grandma was hurting too."

  A flicker of pain coursed through my heart. The way I felt about my mother wasn't something I’d fully revealed to Emily. My daughter’s eyes began to water as she stepped closer and closer to me as I stood near the porch, still motionless, still thinking of my late mother.

  "Dad, I spent all day yesterday feeding the homeless, and you want to get angry about it? I wasn’t out sleeping around, jeez."

  "Watch it."

  She came closer and shook her head as she grabbed both my hands in hers. "Please, Dad. Henry is wonderful. He's caring and loving and considerate."

  My heart felt torn. On one hand, I was happy she was helping the less fortunate, but mingling with a cult was bad news. I gave her a hug and said nothing.

  "Thank you, Dad." As we released from our embrace, she pulled out a folded piece of paper from her back pocket. "Here, I found this research online about Henry and all about the group. I figured you just don't know, and that's what scares you about all this."

  Taking the paper, I began to read, and immediately, I thought of my friend Charles. He was a techy guy even back in the day when technology wasn't exactly cool. He was that guy in college digging on microprocessors and telecommunications long before Apple made iPhones and Windows made computers personal. If anybody could track down information about this cult, enough to put my nerves to rest, he could.

  Looking at my daughter, I smiled. "You did this research yourself?"

  "I did. You taught me to trust God and second-guess everybody else. Right?"

  I laughed and nodded. "That's right, I did. Thank you for this. Come here." She came closer for another hug, and I said a prayer for her right there in that moment. My baby girl was still so young, so innocent in my eyes. My prayer was that she would come back to the truth and do so quickly.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PHONING MY COLLEGE BUDDY, CHARLES, that evening, I gave him the information I had on Lighthouse and asked him to do a little digging. He called me the next morning and asked if we could meet up at Rocket Bakery, down on 1st Avenue. It was the same coffee shop our men's group used to meet at on Tuesday mornings.

  Charles loved technology and could hack his way out of a bank vault if he needed to, but his true passion in life rested in the Lord. In college, he majored in Philosophy all the way through and then went on to seminary before making a career out of it. He now studies and writes research articles for a few different Christian organizations and even a few colleges around the country. I knew from time to time, he would still hack, but mostly, he did it when he was digging for truth. If Lighthouse had a secret, he'd find it.

  "So how old is this cult?" he asked, taking a seat at the table across from me as he slid his laptop carrying case strap off his shoulder, letting the laptop easily slip to the ground beside his chair.

  "I'm not sure. I think a couple of years?"

  He nodded as he slipped his laptop out from its case and set it on the table before him. Scratching the under part of his white beard, he raised his eyebrows. "I found a scrap, a small one, from about seven years ago . . . but, even that one seemed pretty harmless, Ron. There were some deaths at the community, but they were all deemed suicides, and the documents from the coroners all checked out."

  “That’s a little weird.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah . . . but I wouldn’t worry about it unless those documents were sealed or tampered with, which I couldn’t find any signs of.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay. So we’re okay."

  Charles brought his coffee cup up to his mouth and took a sip. Setting it down, he leaned a little forward over the small table. "There could be more that just isn't online anymore, or perhaps hidden well." Relaxing back into his seat, he opened his laptop screen and pushed the power button, then crossed his arms. "You know how easy it is to cover things up online."

  His comment jogged my memory from a couple of years ago. He had systematically destroyed the life of the dean of a certain prestigious college by resurfacing a story that the dean had previously paid handsomely to bury. Charles had not only unearthed the scandal between the dean and a secretary, but he hacked the computer network of the college, making sure each student and faculty member saw the intimate details. I didn't agree with all of his tactics and choices in life, but I could in a way understand why he did it. He wanted to right the wrong in the world, and he knew how. Personally, I felt that was God's role, not ours. Charles always replied to that statement with, ‘God uses people to accomplish His will all the time.’

  I nodded in agreement to his comment about how some things are covered up. He began typing.

  I said, "Lighthouse could be hiding some dirty secrets, but if they are, they'd be easy for the infamous Felix. Right?"

  "Don't
say that name out loud in public." Glancing around, he looked back at me. "But yes, it'd be easy enough, one would hope. Maybe I'll keep digging a little, just in case, because it’s Emily we’re talking about here. For now, though, you should be happy to know it's looking okay."

  I saw a couple across the coffee shop. They were sitting near a large window and sharing conversation while they drank coffee. Seeing the two talk and laugh together, I thought of Teresa. I missed her. Another couple nearby were older, and it reminded me of my ex-wife Maria and me. Turning my eyes back to my old friend, Charles, I smiled. "Why are we so dumb, Charles?"

  "What? Not following."

  "As humans. Why are we so dumb?"

  He grinned. "Free will, my friend. It grants us the ability to think, to reason, to hate, and to love. Now there's a lot of pain in this world, much of it self-inflicted, but if we didn't have the ability to choose, we wouldn't be able to choose love over hate either. You and I, we choose to love God, our Creator, our Redeemer, and our Savior."

  My eyes went back to the first couple. "Beautifully put, my friend."

  Just then, a boy who couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen came waltzing up to our table. He looked Charles up and down. "You're the Felix?" He laughed. "But you're like totally old."

  Charles glared over at me for a moment. "I don't know what that means."

  "C'mon. I heard you guys talking. You're the Felix. Your secret is safe with me, man. My name is Mikey. It's a pleasure to meet you."

  My friend furrowed his eyebrows and quickly put his laptop back into his bag, then stood up. He looked over at me with a disappointed shake of his head. "We'll be in touch."

  Charles headed for the exit, obviously uncomfortable with the fame of his hacker life behind the digital walls. Mikey didn't pursue, but he went and found a table to set up his own laptop. Glancing around the coffee shop, I wondered how many other hackers were walking around undetected like this Mikey kid. There was a big digital world out there, and most people, like myself, were oblivious to it.