Dangerously Safe: The Seven Year Journey

By Wendel Lucas Washington

This is a story of faith and resilience. It’s a story of steadfast obedience. And it’s a story that shores up the belief that you are never lost as long as God has His eye on you.

Everyone has a road that he or she must travel in life. And like all roads, life’s road will undoubtedly have its share of twists and turns. You will experience pleasantries and hazards in your travels. For the most part, you expect to hit some rough patches, some potholes, if you will. You may even momentarily veer off course and become lost, only to make some minor detours, a few alterations and adjustments—and all is once again well. But what if you were suddenly forced out of the course of your journey and faced a head-on crash with the harsh realities of life? And what if you were suddenly lost, in completely unfamiliar and even frightening territories? There was no warning, no detour, and no turning back? And what if the only way out was through? And finally, what if the journey back took seven years? Enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646548255

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Dangerously Safe

The Seven Year Journey

Wendel Lucas Washington

Copyright © 2020 Wendel Lucas Washington

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2020

The characters and events depicted in this novel are all created. Any similarities to events, locale, or individuals, living or dead, should be considered unintentional and purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-64654-824-8 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64654-825-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

They say you can never go home again. I’ve heard that many times from many people over the past seven years. Well, this old Greyhound bus and I, we’re gonna prove them wrong. Or at least we aim to try. Yes, it’s been seven long years—or short years. I’m not really sure. But I do know that with each bump in the road and each turn of the wheel, I am taken ever closer to a face-to-face meeting with a world of uncertainty. I don’t even know if I can still call it home—or if I ever will again. Who knows? I guess I soon will.

There’s the county-line marker. They could have saved money on that; the acres upon acres of cornfields with their withered stalks and barren cotton plants that are well past their harvest season left little doubt as to where you were. The barns, the grain silos, the occasional small group of cows gathered near fences and trees as if discussing current goings-on and rumors about other neighboring farms—nothing much ever changes in this rural community. You either had a large, prosperous farm with livestock and harvest aplenty, or you scratched out a living on a few acres and worked at the mill.

But we lived in town, my family and I, in the town of Oak Hollow, in a little white house on a sleepy little street lined with—you guessed it—oak trees. My mother was a seamstress at the garment factory and my dad—my dad was a salesman slash delivery driver for a local furniture store and a bonafide, sanctified, never lied, no-nonsense preacher. Three of us—my mother, my younger sister, and I—had mandatory front-row seats on Sunday mornings as he bellowed from the pulpit, not satisfied, it seemed, until the frenzy of his congregation had reached a feverish pitch. Then and only then would he be content to take his seat and wait patiently until his flock had reined in their emotions. No one dared challenge his biblical prowess.

I’m not always right, he would concede, tongue in cheek. I’m just never wrong. He assumed that posture in our household as well. His authority cast a wide net. He was particularly hard on me. If I made a mistake, I was deemed an idiot. But if I got it right, then I was grandstanding, a praise seeker. I wanted desperately to please him, but sometimes it seemed impossible, and I guess I was just tired of trying. So I finally quit trying—the day I left home, or rather was told to leave. But overall, strictness aside, we had a pretty good life.

I always had a part-time job of some kind—paper boy, drugstore delivery, burger flipper. I even worked on the neighboring farms when nothing else was available. I loved working. Or maybe I just loved being out of the house sometimes. But I was finally out of high school and had saved enough of my own money to enroll in the local junior college. And I loved nothing more than being able to put a few dollars in my kid sister’s hand. Cheeky—that’s the name I’ve always called her—was twelve years old, and I was nineteen. I was her big brother, her hero, and her best friend. When I left home that day, my, how she cried, which made me cry. I couldn’t stand to see my little sister in pain, emotional or otherwise. That is a day I’ll never forget. That was seven long years ago—or short years. I’m not sure. I’m just not sure.

Oak Hollow, folks, the driver announced as the bus pulled to a stop in front of Jerry’s Diner and Gas Station, which also subbed as a depot. Please watch your step when exiting the coach. I grabbed my meager belongings from overhead—a small suitcase and duffel bag—and stepped out into the bright, crisp morning. Jerry’s was closed. Of course—it was Sunday morning. Still, some hot coffee would have been real nice about now. Oh well. I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and grabbed the end strap. I picked up the small case and walked. As I made my way through town, I kept looking around as if I actually expected to see something different. But the old historic buildings, which had challenged Father Time—and won so far—still stood. The county courthouse, City Hall, the Exchange Building—they all seemed to extend a beckoning of unsure familiarity as I passed them.

Finally, I turned a corner, and there it was—my dad’s church, its parking lot full, its pristine white steeple using the autumn blue sky as a dramatic back drop as it reached toward heaven. This was not planned. Though it was on my way, it didn’t even occur to me that I would be passing by there. But there I was. And there it stood. It seemed to be summoning me: Come on over. Join us. Welcome home. Of course I dared not! I just stood, looking at what was once a huge part of my life, where everyone knew me and expected to see me on that first pew, where I always felt at home—and welcome. I began to question myself. Maybe it wasn’t a very good idea to come back here. But I had no choice. I had to come back. This was my home, my foundation. I couldn’t build a future upon a foundation with so many broken pieces. Something brought me back here, not the Greyhound bus, something that I couldn’t explain, even now. While my intentions were to continue to the family home, I found myself walking up to the church.

"What am I doing? I asked myself. I can’t go in there! Besides, I’m not dressed for it. No coat. No tie! But I kept walking until I reached the steps of the church. There I sat. I could hear the raucous sounds of the organ, the drums, the singing and chants of Hallelujah! and Amen!" And I could hear my dad’s voice—orchestrating the chants, hand clapping, and foot stomping. I got up to leave, but to my surprise and shock, I found myself walking toward the doors of the church.

Wait. What is this? I thought. I don’t want to go in there! However, I placed my luggage in the corner of the narthex and walked slowly toward the second set of doors leading into the sanctuary. Before I could muster the strength to turn around to leave, the door swung open, and an usher beckoned me to enter. She gave me the customary welcoming smile then gave me a second look. Then a third. The smile gave way to a hard-fought, shocked, but pleasant look. She nodded and motioned for me to continue. I could see out of the corner of my eyes the elbowing and nudging as heads slowly turned with eyes focused on me. By the time I reached the fifth or sixth of the twenty or so rows of seats, half the congregation had ceased singing and clapping—their eyes fixed on me. The strange atmosphere continued to spread until my dad, noticing the change, looked around, puzzled. When he saw me, he froze. An eerie silence encompassed the church. He showed no expression. However, he seemed slightly unsteady on his feet. A couple of deacons rushed over and accompanied him back to the pulpit and sat him down. Another brought him a glass of water. My mom, realizing that something was amiss, walked quickly toward him, turned, saw me, and stopped. With her mouth agape, she slowly took a couple of steps in my direction. I raised my hand and motioned for her to go and tend to her husband. She reluctantly complied.

The church was abuzz with whispers and murmurs as I turned and headed for the exit. Once outside, I tried to grasp the volume of what just happened. Wow! It certainly was not my intention to disrupt the church service. Still, I had no regrets—and no choice in the matter, it seemed. I was drawn to purchase that bus ticket. I was drawn to travel to Oak Hollow and to that church.

I picked up my belongings and headed toward the family home. I would just sit on the porch and wait for everyone to return home. When I arrived at the house, it didn’t surprise me that nothing had changed, except maybe the locks on the doors. I threw my stuff down and sat on the top steps of the front porch and let my mind rewind, reminiscing about days and years past.

I used to play catch right there on this street. I used to skate on these sidewalks. I used to—

Excuse me. Can I help you, sir? The voice from the doorway behind me interrupted my thoughts. I stood up slowly and turned to face the young woman standing behind the screen door.

Hello, Cheeky, I said with a wide grin.

Zodie! she shrieked loud enough to be heard in the next county. She ran and threw herself around my neck, almost knocking me off the steps. "Zodie! Zodie! Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s you!"

Wow! I exclaimed. Look at my little Cheeky! All grown up and pretty as ever. Just look at you!

Well, don’t just stand there, she said, picking up my small case. Come on in. Have you had breakfast? I’ll fix you something to eat. There’s some sausages and eggs left from this morning, and I’ll make some toast and fresh coffee.

Ooh, that sounds good, but it’s probably not a good idea, Cheeky. You know…

Oh, nonsense! she countered. Come on into the kitchen. It’ll be ready in a jiffy.

You? Cooking? I teased. When I left here, you couldn’t boil water without scorching it. And remember that time you tried to cook dinner? We took some leftovers over to Mr. Monroe’s farm, and they had to have his hogs’ stomachs pumped.

Would you like this coffee in your cup or poured over your head? she threatened playfully as I sat at the table. Shut up and eat!

Cheeky, little sis, it does my heart so good to see you.

"Well, now that I’m over the shock and thrill of seeing you, I can go back to being mad at you," she said.

Oh. You too, huh? I replied.

"What are you talking about? I’m mad because I haven’t heard from you in seven years. Seven long years, Zodie! Not a word! No letter, no phone call. Nothing. Her voice cracked slightly. I didn’t know what happened to you. I didn’t know if you were…"

Hurt? Dead? In jail? I finished saying what she couldn’t bring herself to.

As painful as it was, she said, "those thoughts did cross my mind. Why, Zodie? Why didn’t you stay in touch with me?"

Cheeky, for the first year, I wrote you and Mom at least once every month, sometimes more. I never got a response. The last letter I wrote stated that if I didn’t hear back from either of you, it could only mean that you didn’t want to hear from me anymore. I said you had my address if you ever needed me or wanted to re-establish contact.

Zodie, I never received a single letter from you, and Mother said she didn’t either. And Daddy would stop by the post office every day on his way home from work to check the mail. Still, why didn’t you call?

I tried to. The phone was changed to a private number right after I left.

Oh yeah, she said thoughtfully. Daddy had the number changed right after—right after you left. He said we were getting a few crank calls, you know, stuff like that.

Yeah, that could be one of the reasons, I suppose.

Wait, you don’t think that Daddy would—

Of course not. The letters just got lost in the mail. So tell me, I said, trying to change the subject. what have you been up to, and how come you’re not in church?

Well, I’m taking classes at the junior college, plus I have a part-time job that really keeps me busy. I was kind of tired this morning, so I stayed home.

What? I exclaimed. "You mean he let you miss church because you were tired?"

"He didn’t let me. I’m nineteen years old, you know. I make my own decisions."

I looked at her and smiled.

Okay, he did raise quite a fuss, she conceded, "but I won, didn’t I? Seriously, Zodie, I have really begun to assert myself more, make important decisions and take responsibility for my own actions. Daddy says I’m rebellious and disrespectful, but I call it maturity."

Good for you, I said, taking a sip of coffee.

No, really, she said, searching for further validation. Do you think I’m wrong?

Cheeky, the Bible says you are to obey your parents in the Lord. It also states that you are to honor your mother and your father—and it doesn’t specify a time span or condition on that law. However, it further states, ‘And ye, fathers, provoke not your children to wrath.’ In other words, don’t stunt your children’s growth and development by holding them down and choking the life out of them. It could only lead to resentment and estrangement. Of course, you’ll make some mistakes, but that’s your right. Just take ownership of them and learn from them. Put God first in everything in your life, and there’s no wrong that can’t be righted.

You certainly have grown a lot, big brother, she said.

Me? I’ve only gained a few pounds.

You know what I mean, she said as she sat at the table, playfully swiping at me with a dish towel. She sipped her coffee. You’ve grown in wisdom and clarity. I mean, the meekness is still there, but there is also an air of steadfastness, assurance.

Yes, it’s assurance, I said, Blessed Assurance.

I looked at my sister, and she looked at her hero. We didn’t have to say anything. The smiles and the eyes said most of it: the love and trust between us hadn’t waned. The reconnection of the relationship was an equally joyous occasion. However, our minds still harbored that daunting question as to what happened to seven years of lost communication. Was it really lost? Or was it stolen?

That was good, I said. And that coffee sure hit the spot. Thanks, sis.

Come on, she said, rising from the table and grabbing my hand. Let’s get you settled. You can have my room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.

I stopped short.

Wait a minute. Your room? What happened to—why your room?

Oh, um, Daddy sorta, um, turned your room into his study. There’s a desk where the bed used to be. But I’m sure he’ll—

No, no, no, I said. I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. No one knew I was going to show up today. I’ll just get a room at the hotel.

Zodie, no! she protested. You’re staying here! This is your home!"

I’m not so sure about that anymore, Cheeky. And you wouldn’t be either if you witnessed the welcoming that I received when I walked into that church this morning.

"You went to the church? So Mother and Daddy already know you’re here! I know they were surprised to see you!"

"That’s putting it mildly. I knew it would be a mistake to go there, but as crazy as this may sound, I don’t think I had much choice. I think that decision was somehow made for me. It’s as if I was drawn to that church. Anyway, it didn’t go too well, sis."

I’m sure they were just shocked to see you, that’s all, she reasoned. You’ll see when they get here.

Well, we won’t have to wait much longer, I said. I think I just heard a car pull into the driveway.

As the door opened and my parents walked in, Cheeky ran over and grabbed my arm with both hands.

"Mother! Daddy! Look who’s here! It’s Zodie! Zodie’s come home!"

There was an ever so slight pause and silence that seemed like forever. Then my mom rushed over and hugged my neck.

"Oh, Zodie, son, how have you been? Where have you been? Are you all right? Why haven’t we heard from you for so long?"

Whoa, Mom, I said, laughing. "Let’s see, which question first? Well, I am fine. Really I am. See?" I stretched my arms out and slowly turned around.

"Well, you have put on a few pounds, she said. You have been eating good, I see."

Just like a mama, I thought with a chuckle. You look great, Mom, I said, holding her at arm’s length. You really look great.

"No thanks to me worrying about you! Lying awake at night, wondering where in the world my child was. But praise the Lord! He answered my prayers, and here you stand right before me—and you’re all right. Her voice started to crack, and she trembled slightly. Zelda, look. Your brother’s back. He’s come home."

They both wrapped their arms around me and buried their face in my chest. This gave me my first opportunity to view my dad as he stood motionless, watching the three of us. His face was void of expression. It was a stare down—and he won. He always did. So I conceded. I always did.

How have you been, Dad? I asked. My mom and sister turned to face him with broad smiles, awaiting his reply. He took his time before answering, opting instead to walk over and place his Bible on the table. Then he methodically hung his hat and coat on the rack. We all waited patiently. He eventually turned to face me, still expressionless.

"I’ve been doing just fine," he said.

Um, glad to hear that, I said. Another uneasy pause ensued.

Isn’t it great that Zodie’s home, Daddy? Cheeky beamed.

Dad just got in from church, I injected. Give him a chance to settle down, sis.

Did you have something to eat, son? Mom asked.

Yes. Can’t you see my skin is turning green? Cheeky fixed me something earlier. I took a punch on the shoulder for that as she, my mom, and I broke into laughter.

Well, come on, son. We’ve got to get you settled in. We can—

Uh, no, Mom. I… I won’t be staying.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean, I won’t be staying here."

"For goodness’ sake, why not?"

"That’s what I asked him, Mother, Cheeky said. But he insists on staying at a hotel."

A hotel? she exclaimed. You’ll do no such thing. I could—

Margaret, my dad interrupted would you get me a glass of tea?

I’ll get it for you, Daddy, Cheeky offered, turning toward the kitchen.

No. I asked your mother to do it. Margaret?

My mom stared searchingly at him then glanced quickly at me.

Yes, of course, she said as she left for the kitchen.

Well, aren’t you two gonna shake hands or something? Cheeky asked, trying hard to ignore the frigid atmosphere that was engulfing the room. Neither of us responded. "Daddy? Zodie? Please, it’s been seven years!"

My dad picked up his Bible and walked toward the hallway.

I’ll be in my study, he said. Let your mother know.

The pain was very visible on my sister’s face as my mother emerged from the kitchen, glass in hand.

What’s the matter? she asked. Is something wrong?

"Ask those two, Cheeky answered. Mother, they’re not even speaking to each other!"

Well, you know your father, she sighed. It’s hard for him to let certain things go. He’s obviously still upset about what happened seven years ago and—

"You mean what didn’t happen seven years ago because nothing did! I objected. Look. I’m not here to cause disruptions or problems of any kind. I… I just wanted to see my family, and… and there’s something else that I have to do. Then I’ll be moving on."

Cheeky’s eyes welled with tears as she turned and slowly left the room. I felt terrible. The last thing I wanted was to hurt my sister—again. I was supposed to be her hero. I knew she needed me to come and comfort her like I used to whenever she felt distraught, but it would have to wait.

Some hero, I thought.

Son, please don’t talk like that, my mom implored. "We love you. We all do. Always have and always will."

"Mom, I can’t help but feel that there’s an ‘even though’ at the end of that statement. So please forgive me if I can’t fully embrace your declaration of love when it has an asterisk attached. I don’t want you to love me under a banner of family obligation. I want you to believe me, Mom. And I want you to believe in me."

Zodie, I… don’t you think you need to go see about your sister? she asked. You know she’s waiting for you.

I will, but right now, I’d rather take this tea in to Dad, I said, reaching for the glass.

Are you sure? I mean—

Yes, I’m sure.

I walked down the hallway to what used to be my bedroom.

Knock, knock, I said, pausing at the doorway, glass in hand. May I enter?

My dad looked up from the papers he was scanning and stared at me over the top of his glasses. He didn’t answer. I walked in, placed the glass of tea on his desk, and glanced around the room. Like what you’ve done to the place. Very nice. Still no response, just his patented penetrating stare. It was the stare I remember oh so well that was reserved for when he wanted to make you feel intimidated.

I sat in one of the two chairs that faced his desk. A few moments passed. He went back to reading—or pretending to read—the papers in front of him.

Question, I broke the silence. Are we going to sit here like two spoiled, immature, pouty kids, or are we going to address each other like father and son—or at least like mature and respectable men? Just so you know, I can handle either one, but I’d much prefer the latter.

That got his attention. He took his glasses off and sat