Authors: Derek Jackson
Chance’s body immediately stiffened, and a confused expression darkened Lynn’s face. Pop didn’t recognize that he’d done something wrong. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked.
“Um . . . Chance,” Lynn whispered. “Did your . . . father call me . . . what I think he did?”
Chance nodded. “Pop, this is
Lynn
, remember? Her name is Lynn.”
“I know that,” Pop responded. “You just introduced me to her. I mean, I know that she looks just like Nina, but—” Pop’s eyes widened. “Oh, God. I called her . . .
Nina
, didn’t I? I’m sorry, son. Didn’t mean no harm by that.”
Lynn shot a curious glance at Chance. “You never mentioned that I look just like her. Oh, I’m sorry, too, if I’ve caused you any—”
“It’s nothing,” Chance said, holding up a hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Uh, excuse me for a second,” he added, walking toward the other end of the boat.
Pop shrugged his shoulders. “He just can’t let go of the past, Lynn. What’s done is done and there ain’t nothing anybody can do about it.”
“Does . . . does he ever talk about her? About Nina, I mean?”
Pop shook his head. “Not without crying like she just passed yesterday. That Nina was a good woman, I’ll give her that. But it ain’t natural to carry on like this two years after her death. Chance always was a sensitive one, though.”
“He mentioned once that everybody in town blamed him for Nina’s passing. Is that true?”
“Yep. It’s a shame, too.
Nina
was the one wanting to go to that healing meeting, not my boy. Guess it was easier for Jucinda to blame Chance rather than admit maybe her daughter was misguided.”
“Misguided?”
“Well, yeah. Everyone knows there ain’t nothing to that instant healing business. Nina should’ve known better.”
Lynn instinctively reached for her eyes. There wasn’t anything to this healing business? She would still be blind today if that were true!
“Mr. Howard, I—”
“Pop. You can call me Pop, too.”
“Okay . . . Pop. So, you don’t have any idea what your son has been doing for the last two years?”
“He ain’t been doin’ much of nothing, far as I’m concerned. I guess he been trying to cope with Nina’s death and trying to find himself. Don’t look like he’s done either one.”
“Would you excuse me, Mr. . . . uh, I mean, Pop?” Lynn turned around and walked to the other end of the boat. She saw Chance leaning against the rail, staring out into the water.
“Chance, how come your father doesn’t know about your gift of healing?”
Chance shrugged. “I’ve never been led to tell him.”
“But . . . this is your
father
we’re talking about. Don’t you think he should know? Your gift . . . it’s so—”
“Lynn, I don’t think he needs to know, alright? Pop doesn’t have a whole lot of time left, and for the time he does have left, I want to be the son that’s always made him proud, not some weird traveling sideshow that nobody understands.”
“Chance, you are
not
a weird traveling sideshow. I know that I can’t imagine all that you’ve gone through, but I’m here to listen . . . and to try to understand. A life devoted to the ministry is not easy—believe me, I know that. But I’ve also learned that it helps having a few people in your corner.”
“And that’s where you want to be, huh? In my corner?”
“I just want you to know that I
care
.”
The sounds of nature filled in the relaxed silence—the small cresting waves gently lapping against the side of the boat, the cawing of geese flying overhead, and the occasional duck calls. Lynn stared out at the water, amazed at how . . . endless it seemed. She had been on a boat in the middle of the water only one other time in her life. Four of her study partners from her college history class had rented a boat and water-ski equipment, then had driven to Hilton Head the Spring Break of her sophomore year. Lynn hadn’t been thrilled about going, but she’d been praying for an opportunity to witness to the study group, all of whom thought she never had fun because she was a born-again Christian. Well, she’d had fun all right, and by the week’s end, everyone in the group had given their lives to Jesus Christ.
“You . . .
do
look like her, you know,” Chance said, finally breaking the silence. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a photograph, which he handed to Lynn.
Lynn almost gasped when she looked at the picture, because it was almost like looking in a mirror. The woman’s hair in the photograph was cut differently from hers (although Lynn had once sported the same ’do), but they had the same skin tone and smile.
“Didn’t know you had a twin, did you?” Chance asked, now looking back at the water.
“Well . . . our eyes are a little different.”
“Yeah, but not much.”
“Chance, I can’t even fathom how hard this has to be for you, me resembling Nina like I do and following you around like I have.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. Actually, it’s been kind of nice having you . . . I mean, I know you’re not her . . . and I wouldn’t want you to be . . . but it’s been nice. For your information, it’s not how you look that reminds me so much of her, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Nina had . . . and you have that unshakable faith in God, the kind that believes in Him no matter
what
.”
Lynn managed a smile. “Well, let me tell you—literally having your blinded eyes opened can do wonders for your faith.”
“I imagine so. Let me ask you something—because I’ve wondered about this after I lay hands on someone and that person
doesn’t
get healed. Is it all about having faith? I mean, what if there had been no change after I laid hands on your eyes and prayed for you? Would that have changed your faith in God?”
“That’s a tough question, Chance. If I were still blind today, would I still have faith that God is a healer? My heart tells me that I would, because I’ve lived most of my life walking by faith . . . and not by sight—uh, no pun intended. But I also think back to something the three Hebrew boys—Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—said before King Nebuchadnezzar threatened to throw them into the fiery furnace. They said,
‘God is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace . . . but if not, then let it be known that we do not serve your false gods nor worship your golden image.’
To me, that is a level of faith that most people don’t have—knowing that even if God
does not
deliver you, that doesn’t mean that He
can’t
. That was my thought process during those seven weeks that I was blind. I did have faith to believe that God would heal me, because I believed that it was His will.”
“But isn’t it God’s will that all of His children be healed? Didn’t Jesus’s death, burial, and resurrection give all believers access to that divine benefit?”
“We
do
have benefits because of the work of the cross,” Lynn agreed. “Psalm 103 tells us that.”
“But I would go to some churches and lay hands on people, and nothing would happen,” Chance countered. “Is that solely because those people had a lack of faith?”
Lynn could read between the lines and sense what Chance was really asking. Did his beloved Nina somehow have a lack of faith? Or did
he
?
“No man can completely know the mind of God, Chance. I mean, by and large we’re quoting passages of scripture authored by the apostle Paul, who himself wrote that he had not arrived at the full knowledge of God, and that he was still pressing toward the mark of the prize of the high calling of God in Christ. Ultimately, I believe that the
will
of God is paramount—if it’s His will that someone be healed here on earth, then by faith it will happen. I stress
by faith
because it’s clearly seen throughout scripture that Jesus healed according to a person’s faith. Remember the woman with the issue of blood who touched the hem of Jesus’s garments? Jesus told her that her faith made her whole. Or the centurion who asked Jesus only to speak a word and his sick servant would be made whole? Jesus not only healed that centurion’s servant, but exclaimed that he had not found such great faith in all of Israel! And how can we forget the Canaanite woman with a sick daughter, whom the disciples rejected and Jesus practically ignored until she began to worship Him out of sheer faith. Jesus declared that her great faith made her daughter whole.”
Chance smiled. “You’re like a . . . a walking Bible, aren’t you?”
Lynn smiled back at him. “Isn’t that what believers are
supposed
to be? Living epistles read by all men?”
“That’s not what I meant. I was—”
“I know, Chance,” Lynn cut in, still smiling. “I know.”
From the other end of the boat, they both heard Pop shout, “Whoo-hee!”
“Another one?” Lynn asked.
Chance nodded. “Told you he was a fish magnet in these waters.”
T
HE BUSTLING ACTIVITY
surprised Travis as he pulled up to the dock’s office just after eight o’clock.
Don’t people sleep in late anymore?
Dozens of people carrying fishing poles and tackle buckets hurried past his pickup truck, while a smaller number closer to the lake fiddled with surfboards and water-skiing and diving apparatus. Travis got out of the truck, feeling out of place among all these fishermen, sportsmen, and fun-loving exercise fanatics. It was not that he didn’t like exercising; he just employed different methods for working up a sweat.
Hand-to-remote, one-two-three, turn-television-on, one-two-three, hand-to-mouth, one-two-three, feed-my-face, one-two-three . . .
A weathered-looking man with his deeply tanned face buried in a
Field & Stream
magazine sat behind the counter as Travis walked up.
“Can I help you, partner? Whaddya need—bait, fishing license, boat rental?”
Travis quickly sized up his options. All he wanted was more information, but what was the best way to get it? The truth? Telfair had told him that Chance had come here to Caddo Lake to go fishing with his father, but he hadn’t known the name of the boat.
“Sure, you can help me,” Travis replied in his best southern accent. “I’m s’posed to meet a longtime friend to go fishing, but doggone it if I didn’t oversleep! He’s probably already out on the water, but I forgot the name of the boat he’s using.”
“Well . . . we’ve already got fourteen boats out there, most of them fishing boats. What’s your friend’s name?”
“Chance Howard.”
“Chance Howard?” The man’s face scrunched up as he visibly tried to place the name. “No, I don’t believe I know a Chance How— Oh, wait now. I believe that’s ol’ Bennett’s son you talking about. Haven’t seen Chance for a couple years now, but if he’s here, and he’s with Bennett, then they been out there for hours. Bennett wakes up with the owls when it’s time to go fishing.”
Yeah, yeah, whatever . . .
“So you know the name of the boat?”
“Sure I do. Bennett fishes in the
Jacqueline
, named after his late wife.”
Travis made a mental note of the boat’s name. “And how long does Bennett usually stay out on the water?”
The man laughed. “Bennett could stay out on that water all day, if he wanted! But he don’t like it much when it gets hot around noon. Plus, since he’s got company aboard his boat, I imagine he’ll be docking in at a little before noon.”
Travis checked his watch. It was not yet eight-thirty. His deadline for sending his story was one o’clock eastern time, twelve o’clock Louisiana time. He would be cutting it close, but he figured he could get his story ready, leaving a few blank spaces for Chance’s quotes. What really mattered was another picture, though. One more picture of the mystery man and Travis was golden.
MUCH TO JUCINDA’S GROWING DISPLEASURE
, more people were confirming they’d seen Chance back in town. First, Ol’ Man Rollie, who sat outside on his porch all day and thus saw everything, said he’d seen Chance walking past his house, and had even spoken briefly with him.
“Did he say why he’d come back here?” Jucinda had asked, speaking slowly and loudly because Ol’ Man Rollie was hard of hearing.
“Naw . . . he dint say that. He just . . . come walkin’ down the road.”
Next, Jucinda had called Telfair Williams, the handyman who took care of many yards for the elderly. Telfair had been cutting Bennett Howard’s grass for years, since Bennett didn’t move around so well on his prosthesis.
“Yep, I seen Chance come back to his pop’s house a few days ago,” he answered over the phone. “Bennett was real happy to see him.”
“So he’s still at Bennett’s house? Right now?”
“Naw, not right now. They gon’ fishin’ up at the lake, jus’ like they always used to do.”
Jucinda could not believe the
nerve
of Chance, coming back to town and going fishing, like everything had returned to normal. Didn’t he know he was not welcome here? Didn’t he know that he’d ruined her own life and disgraced the memory of one of the town’s most promising young women? Well, if he had somehow forgotten that in two years’ time, then Jucinda would be delighted to give him a jarring reminder.
“Telfair, thank you for the information. I—”
“Oh yeah—one more thing, Jucinda. Some guy I never seen before came down here askin’ questions about Chance, too.”
“He was asking
questions
? Like a policeman or something?”
“Naw. Reckon more like a reporter. He asked me if I knew where Chance was, and I told him.”
You did what?
“Telfair, why didn’t you just tell him you didn’t know where Chance was? Or tell that reporter to come talk to me?”
“Jucinda, for a hunnerd bucks I’da told that man anything he wanted,” Telfair replied, laughing.
Jucinda silently cursed as she hung up the phone. Not only was Chance back in town, but apparently he was attracting a lot of attention as well. Grabbing her car keys from the hook next to the door, she hurried out of her house, aiming to take care of this problem the way she should’ve taken care of it two years ago—
permanently
.
A
S THE MORNING HOURS PASSED
, the sun rose higher in the sky, and just as Pop predicted, the bass began biting less and less. Pop had already snared five largemouth bass, two catfish, and a handful of small brim that he’d thrown back into the lake.