Excerpt From Work In Progress In His Hands

This is another excerpt from my work in progress "In His Hands" which will hopefully soon reach the rewriting process. This scene is takes place on a Lord's Day evening after the services. Maia has been being taught by the Greens who have adopted her, the basic things about the Scriptures and the Sunday School class has been doing a basic study on the attributes of God. All of that is in earlier scenes, and here is the scene for today.


DAVE SWALLOWED the last of his coffee for the night. They had arrived home from the church service an hour before and had gone to conversation almost immediately about the sermon. It had been a treatment on the supposed accidents in life and how they were all part of the plan of God. Like the morning message, it set Dave thinking. Were there really any accidents?
      Maia hadn’t commented much on the sermons aside from that she would have to think about them for a little while, which was to be expected, it being her first exposure to any real Christianity and certainly to that level of theology. That was one thing that Dave could give Pastor Vic, you pretty much never got a sermon that didn’t tie into a deeper theological thread. At first he had been concerned that it would drive Maia away from the idea of preaching, but she seemed anxious for the next service, surprised it was only a few days away. He had seen some scribbled notes here and there on the paper she had in her Bible, and the load of papers that she had brought from the class from the previous lessons. She seemed to dwell more on the one from that morning though, and less on the others, except the one from the week before on the Sovereignty of God—his personal favorite subject—that had some underlining on it. She seemed to be looking for something and he supposed she had made the markings in the afternoon after Sunday dinner. He had only seen them by accident, when they spilled out of her Bible halfway through the sermon—quietly, thankfully—and he had leaned over to pick them up. She had given a sheepish half-smile and thanked him silently.
      She hadn’t said much that even though, she had just sat on the couch by Mom and listened. She twiddled her fingers together while listening, but he didn’t really know what wheels were turning behind her skull, it was really hard to tell. They hadn’t bothered change; he and his father had only removed their suit jackets and ties, those detestable things, and set them aside.
      He placed the mug on the side table and returned his father’s gaze. “It kind of makes me think of Ruth,” he said, “and how she ‘just happened’ to enter into the same field that Boaz who ‘just happened’ to be her near kinsman, was in charge of, and he ‘just happened’ to favor Ruth who turned out be his wife in the end and ended up in the lineage of David and in eventuality the lineage of Christ.”
     John Green grinned as he sipped his own cup of coffee, “Interesting isn’t it? You ever think about the fact that Ruth was a Moabite, a Gentile, and Christ would become the Light of the Gentiles?”
     “Goes to show you there are no accidents,” His mother added, “We see how the awful thing that happened to Naomi and Ruth ended out being turned into something good.”
      “All by the workings of Providence.” Father finished.
      Maia asked, “What happened to them? I haven’t read that story yet.”
      “Well,” John began, “Naomi and her husband had two sons, and a famine came in Israel, so they went to Moab, another country, and settled. The two boys married two Moabite women, and then they died along with their father. The two sisters-in-law had a choice to make—leave, or stay. One of them left, but Ruth stayed with Naomi. When Naomi moved back to Israel, she changed her name to Mara which means ‘bitter’ because she said that the ‘Almighty hath dealt bitterly with me’ she blamed God for the awful thing that happened to her.” He sipped his coffee.
     “Why did she blame God?” Maia said.
     “Because she understood that God controlled all things, and that maybe He could have kept them from dying. She didn’t know what God was doing at that time, He was preparing Ruth for Boaz who would have kids and then David, who was part of Christ’s bloodline.”
     Janet Green leaned in, “You see, God brought something good out of something seemingly evil, He knew what was going on.”
      “Okay.” She sat back and nodded. “I get it.”
      Dave wasn’t sure if she got the whole thing—but she knew what she needed to know for the moment. Truth was, he had a question beginning to eat away at his mind about what they had called and accident for so long, and the fact that it was no accident.
      “A lot of food for thought,” Father said, “something we had better sleep on. It’s late, so let’s all get ready for bed.”
      “Okay,” Maia stood and Dave rose up, snatching his coffee mug from the side table and went over to where his Dad was draining his mug, and took it from him after he had finished.
     “Thanks, son.”
      Dave took them into the kitchen and placed them in the sink, running a little water into them so that the coffee did not dry up and stain the bottom. The whole time though he had a question growing in his mind about Maia.
      Mother walked in the room and set her cup on the counter, still holding the coffee inside. “What’s on your mind?”
      Dave shook his head, “Nothin’”
      She tilted her head, “Yeah, right.” She picked up the coffee again and leaned against the counter. “Seriously, what’s on your mind?”
      He cocked his head in the direction of the living room, “Maia.”
     “What about her?”
     “The Providence of God.” He said. He decided to go ahead and rinse the cups and the few other plates in the sink that had somehow migrated there without being rinsed beforehand.
     “You mean what she went through?” She asked.
    “Yeah.”
     “I wish I knew. I was thinking the same thing actually when we were talking about Ruth. I think Maia was as well, but she didn’t say anything.”
     Dave nodded, “You and me both.” He set the dishes on the counter and reached for a towel. “I know she was thinking something about that, who in their right mind wouldn’t? I mean, it’s such a terrible thing that happened to her, it just doesn’t…I don’t know.”
     “Doesn’t seem fair?” She offered.
     “I guess.” He folded the used towel neatly. “I know the guy was shot, yeah, good, done. But I’m not sure that was completely just humanly speaking, he died, she didn’t—now she’s got to live with the horrors of what he did. Granted, he’s in Hell, the wrath and vengeance of what he did is being enacted against him, but in the meantime, what about Maia?”
     Mom shook her head, “I don’t know, Dave. I really don’t, we’ll have to pray about it some more I guess. It’s a good thing Pastor Vic it preaching those messages now, huh?”
     “No coincidences.”
     “That’s right. We had better take strong heed to them then.” She looked at the clock and dumped the few sips of coffee in her cup down the sink. “Good night, Dave.”
     “Night, Mom.” Dave replied.
     She headed upstairs. Leaving the downstairs empty. As he went through he shut off all of the lights, and started walking through the hallway when he looked at their family picture from four years ago, four people stared back at him from that picture and he sighed.
     No accidents.
     He shut the light off and went up the stairs.

Scene from Work in Progress - In His Hands

Before I post something very theological, I want to put this out there. This is one of the primary main characters, named Dave Green. His family has adopted Maia one year after her ordeal, and they are a firm Christian family. The Greens have suffered their own family tragedy four years prior to when the book takes place, and this book is used to show the Providence of God in all tragedies, both Maia's and theirs.

     WHEN DAVE woke up he wasn’t sure what was happening exactly. The room was completely dark—the only way he could sleep—and there was a deep penetrating silence over all. He was sweating, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure why, the air conditioning was on. He looked at his hands to see fingernail marks in the palms, where he had been gripping his hands tightly enough to do that.
      “Dave!”
      He jumped, thinking for a moment that someone had called his name, but realizing it was only an echo deep in his mind. One that he desperately wished he could forget.
      He sat up and rubbed his eyes that were gradually adjusting to the darkness. He saw the glowing bars of his clock on his desk, beaming out to him, the only light in the darkness.
     4:26
     Only that? He thought. His heart was still pounding like a bass drum in his chest but he felt his pulse going down. Some dream.
     He huffed, and rubbed his eyes again, climbing out of the bed and stretching, reaching out for the door as he did so, grabbing hold of the knob and twisting it silently. He started out into the dark hallway, and heard the faint hiss of the air conditioner on his way past. The moonlight shone in the hall windows and illuminated the rest of the hallway. He stepped onto the lighted carpet and heard the floorboards beneath creak with protest. As he passed Maia’s room he listened for a moment. Nothing.
      He continued on to the stairs and proceeded down them quietly, avoiding the spots he knew squeaked. The smell from dinner was surprisingly still in the air, and he felt his stomach rumble with the scent.
     He didn’t need to eat anything this late at night though. He moved for the kitchen and grabbed a cup on the counter that he had left there earlier, and moved for the waterspout on the fridge.
     He thought he would like a cup of coffee, but decided against it when he remembered the time, even though he doubted he would get back to sleep. Usually he didn’t at those kinds of times.
     He gulped down the water and decided to head back up the stairs before Danforth heard him and started making a racket. The dumb dog would wake up the whole house to get one person to let him out of his kennel.
     Dave opened the fridge and grabbed a slice of the pizza that was left from the previous night before he left for the next room however.
      As he walked through the living room, he wondered what he had dreamed about that had woken him up so suddenly? Normally he remembered his dreams, but this time he did not. He could see a vague image of a car in his mind still, he knew that someone was in great danger and heard that awful scream that he knew all too well—the same scream that had haunted him for so long.
      “Dave!”
      He hadn’t dreamed like that in a long time. He hardly ever had those kinds of nightmares anymore…not for a year and a half. Then again, that meant it was probably about time he started having those dreams again. In a grim way, the dreams were a good thing—they helped him remember.
     He took a bite of the pizza and swallowed it; the cold ham and pineapple of the Hawaiian pizza were surprisingly dull in his mouth. Perhaps that was the effect of refrigeration
     As he walked up the stairs he thought he heard mumbling, as if someone were trying to speak to him, and turned around—but nobody was behind him.
     Strange.
     He took another bite of the Hawaiian pizza and started to walk up the stairs slowly, again avoiding the squeaking stairs. The sweet pineapple tasted better on the second bite than it had on the first. He rounded to the second set of stairs.
     He heard mumbling again, this time coming from upstairs. Someone was talking, he couldn’t discern who it was though. It was probably his mother talking to Dad about something. He may have made too much noise and woke them up. He took another bite of the pizza and held onto the end crust of the slice as he finished up the stairs. He looked up ahead and saw his father standing at Maia’s door.
      His Dad looked at him, and he seemed concerned.
     Dave walked over to where his father stood, and stopped by him, “What’s going on?” He whispered.
     His dad pointed into Maia’s room and gestured with a finger to his nose for Dave to be silent.
     Maia was muttering something, something in her sleep. He leaned in closer to listen better and try to make out what she was saying. The words were slurred so it was harder to make out, but whatever it was it sounded frightening. She was talking to somebody, somebody who obviously meant her hurt.
     “No. Please don’t…I won’t…never tell…never tell…please just…” She stopped for a moment, and then he heard it start over again. “Please just stop…just stop.” A rock rolled around in his stomach and he knew what she must have been dreaming about.
     He wanted to rush in and destroy whatever was tormenting her but he knew that he couldn’t destroy something that existed in her mind. As she spoke he felt the words tug at his heart, and tug deep down within him. Something roused with the words—anger, something that was birthed when he had first read of what had happened to her before they had adopted her. He remembered the blazing words on the page even then, the way they had set his heart ablaze and made him long to help her…long to do something. That same fire sprang up as he listened to her mumble those awful things in her sleep.
      “Should we wake her up?” He whispered to Dad.
      “I don’t know if we should…isn’t this getting it out of her system?”
      “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” Dave looked at Maia, who was now silent, with the sheets thrown away from her upper body in a fit of dreaming, her face shining with light sweat under the moonlight. She looked deceptively serene; he knew that a battle was going on inside of her skull. It was more like a war than anything, fought in the subconscious dream world. In that realm he was completely powerless, and he hated it.
     “Are you sure we shouldn’t wake her up?”
    “Only if it gets worse. We’ll just keep an eye for now.” John didn’t sound so sure himself of what to do.
     “What are you doing?” They turned to Janet Green’s voice as she finished tying a robe belt around her waist. She drew up next to her husband and looked in on Maia. “What’s going on?”
     “Maia was talking in her sleep, we were just trying to see if she was all right.” He explained.
     She turned to Dave and Dave held up the pizza crust. “Woke up and couldn’t sleep.” He explained.
     She nodded and looked back in. “Well she seems okay, so let’s just leave her alone.” She backed away a little.
      “Okay.” John said. He reached out for the door and began to close it. Dave took a chunk out of the pizza crust and started to head around them to his room. He could work on some of his music with the headphones on.
     Maybe that song I’m working on.
     He heard Maia mumble something else before she spoke loudly enough to be heard just before the door was closed.
      “…please…” The last word was more of a pained plea than anything, and he felt a splinter of empathy shoot through his chest.
     His mother moved past his father and opened the door, his father followed in with her. The mumbling had stopped and he heard them talking to her softly, trying to rouse her peacefully.
     Dave moved for the doorway and saw his mother seated on the bed by Maia lifting her into a sitting position. Maia was awake and breathing heavily, the sheen of perspiration still shining in the moonlight.
      “You’re fine. You’re fine. It’s okay, Maia.” Janet whispered calmly. As he watched, a creeping sickness sunk in, and he didn’t know quite why.

If you would like to read further, please contact me for a full copy of the rough draft (please specify that is what you would like) at michaelrwright92[at]gmail[dot]com