Dark Star: Confessions of a Rock Idol (35 page)

Topeka was a small but busy city, with a surprising amount of traffic buzzing by as we stopped to admire the state capitol, a marvelous white stone structure with mighty columns, a wide expanse of steps, and a slightly tarnished light green dome.

I was enjoying immensely the fact that hardly anyone recognized me. And those who did weren’t quite sure where they had seen me before. Very nice.

It proved to be a fantastic afternoon, as we wandered by the local Performing Arts Center, the Kansas Museum of History, and on down the boulevard to one of Karen’s favorite spots—the First Presbyterian Church.

“This is special.” She tugged my hand. “C’mon.”

We entered the large stone structure through an arched doorway at the bottom of a huge bell tower. The vestibule was dark, dry, creaky, and smelled like mothballs.

“My dad and I used to walk through here all the time when I was a girl. And after…when he stepped down as pastor, he came here a lot to think and pray.”

We walked through another set of heavy wooden doors, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I began to see the old, cushioned pews.

“Look up, silly.” She laughed, pulling me along. “The windows. Look at the windows! They’re all stained glass. One of the only sanctuaries in the country with all its windows done in Tiffany.”

Many shades of light and brilliant colors poured through the intricately fashioned glass, and my heart soared with joy and wonder. Those feelings came not only from viewing the stained glass, but from the sheer honor of knowing this special young lady before me.

“Each window is a sermon, and a prayer, and a treasured work of art.” She looked at them again herself. “Isn’t it cool?” Her love for God—for everything that had to do with God—was contagious.

“Yes…it is.” I enjoyed watching her as she admired the handcrafted Favrile glass, just like she used to do as a girl.

When we crossed the street to head back to Karen’s car, we strolled past Topeka High School, where she graduated more than a decade ago. She shared a few memories and pointed out several familiar spots on campus. Then she got quiet.

“Where to next?”

“I thought I was in love.” She turned her back to me and stopped. “I just want you to know…I thought I loved him—the boy who…”

“Shh, shhhh,” I said with finger to my lips. “I understand, Karen. You don’t have to explain.”

“I want to!” she said, suppressing tears. “I was hurting. Confused. Dad was double-minded—a hypocrite. You wouldn’t have recognized him. He would quote Scripture in every other sentence, but there was no…gentleness. He didn’t forgive. There was no real love.”

She was staring at her old school now. I thought it best to let her share.

“I don’t know why I let it happen. He wasn’t a Christian, but he was gentle and kind. We met up at the football game that night and left in his car.” Tears raced down her white cheeks. “It was my fault…”

“Karen…Karen,” I whispered, coming close and wiping the tears away with my thumbs.

“Let me finish, please. In hindsight, I realize I was rebelling—against Dad, against his religion, I guess even against his God.”

She looked away and cried hard now.

“I want you to know,” she moaned, “there’s never been anyone, after that.”

I shook my head and gazed at Topeka High School as the cold wind whipped through the Kansas plains. “Karen,” I whispered, cupping the back of her slender neck in my hand. “Do you realize where I’ve been? What I’ve done?”

She looked up into my eyes. “I just wanted you to know.”

“If anyone has any explaining to do here, it’s me.” I smiled. “And I have no excuses. All I can tell you is I’m different now.”

“God restored my purity, Everett. He’s already done the same for you.”

At the same time, we came toward each other, hugging tightly. I turned my head sideways, resting it atop her soft blond hair, as she gently laid her head against my chest.

“What’s going to happen?” she said as we stayed like that, swaying slightly in the wind.

“I don’t know, but whatever happens…I want it to be with you.”

Saturday afternoon I sat at one of a dozen pay phones that lined a white concrete wall on the first floor of the detention center. Beneath each phone was a marred wooden desktop attached to the wall, along with a dark green plastic chair.

For the past twenty minutes, Boone and I had been discussing the comprehensive witness list I created late last night in my cell. He agreed to take an in-depth look over the weekend at four of the five people remaining on the list who might be helpful witnesses in our defense. However, Boone continued to refuse to allow me to testify in my own defense.

As I hung up the phone and headed back toward my cell, I felt dejected. Boone sounded tentative. He made me agree that if he investigated the remaining names on my potential witness list, that I would consider pleading guilty to Endora’s murder. That would assure me a spot in this can for a long, long time.

As I walked through the open atrium, past dozens of inmates in orange jumpsuits, I felt a bit uncomfortable. Looking around, I noticed inmates…watching me. Some were smiling as they whispered back and forth. Others, it seemed, hesitantly inched toward me. There were sporadic claps and calls of “Owwwww!”

As I passed two guards standing erect at their central station, I ducked into my cell and noticed two pieces of mail awaiting me on the floor. There’s nothing like getting mail when you’re incarcerated.

The first one was from my sister, Mary.

Dear Ev,

Just wanted to drop a quick note and let you know Jerry and I arrived back home safely. We’re both going to work a couple of days, make sure things are under control with our jobs, and see if we can’t get back down to Miami for more of the trial ASAP!

I still can’t believe how God has brought Jerry into my life. It’s a match made in heaven. He brings me so much joy and laughter.

Jerry and I drove over to see Olivia yesterday, and her condition is the same. Unless God intervenes, it looks as if she will remain in this semi-comatose condition, which is extremely difficult. But I believe in miracles.

Olivia’s mother, Claudia, is not doing well under the stress of it all. Jerry spends a lot of time visiting with her in person and on the phone. After Claudia’s husband got over the shock that Jerry had befriended you and fallen in love with me—Raymond has grown, how do I put it…silent.

If you will, please pray for that family. They need God so much right now. Pray for Olivia. I know you are.

Keep your chin up and fight the good fight. We hope to be back down there with you in a few days. See you in court.

Love,

Mary

Before I left my cell to see what the growing commotion was about (much clapping and yelling), there was another letter to check out first, in a white business envelope with a Miami postmark and no return address.

Lester,

Terribly sorry I couldn’t testify at your trial.

It appears your following has begun.

That is why you must die. Karen too.

Only then will I rest.

Z

The chanting became almost thunderous.

“Les-ter…Les-ter…Les-ter…Les-ter…”

I stood, dropped Zaney’s letter on the bunk, and walked slowly to the entrance of my cell. The place exploded in one enormous ovation. I looked out to see the hallway and atrium beyond filled with orange jumpsuits, hundreds of them. Then the chanting began again, everyone in unison:
“Les-ter…Les-ter…Les-ter…”

A smile broke out, and my head moved side to side in disbelief.

As I turned and disappeared into the cell to retrieve my guitar, the chanting was replaced by a deafening roar. And now I would play for them…
and for Him.

After Karen finished her famous tour of downtown Topeka, we drove back to her parents’ house and both decided to take naps. By the time I woke up in the guest room, it was getting dark, and I had to check my bearings to remember where I was. The clock read 5:35 p.m.

Karen was already awake and downstairs, assisting Sarah and Jacob in the kitchen. I joined them and helped set the table.

We had an informal dinner. The homemade lasagna and garlic bread Sarah prepared from scratch were mouthwatering, as was the tossed salad that Karen sliced and diced. We told her folks what we had done the rest of the afternoon, and then we talked about Karen’s work, Topeka, their church, and Jacob’s business. I felt like the boyfriend who had come to call.

“Will you be able to stay longer, Everett?” asked Sarah. “We’d love to have you, at least one more night.”

When I glanced over at Karen, she wore a huge smile, and her eyebrows were arched high. Her expression made me break out laughing, and then she began laughing too.

“That is so nice of you, Mrs. Bayliss. Yes, I would love to stay tonight. I’ll be heading back early tomorrow morning.”

“Please, call me Sarah.”

“And Jacob,” said Karen’s father.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve made me feel like part of the family, a special family. It feels good.”

The coffee we enjoyed was strong and hot, and the apple pie was warmed and served with a wedge of cheddar cheese and vanilla ice cream. Over dessert I learned that Jacob was originally from Guelph, Ontario, and was a hockey fanatic. The next thing I knew, the four of us made the trek back downtown to Landon Arena for a minor league hockey game between Jacob’s hometown Topeka Tarantulas and the visiting New Mexico Scorpions.

The past two days I had spent with Karen and her parents were, hands down, the best days of my life. This was family; this was home—warm and safe. Something I had never known before. The thought of going back to Miami made my stomach ache. It was another world back there, another life. But if I stayed with Jacob and Sarah, I felt nothing could go wrong. My father must have gone to his grave having never experienced that feeling. What a shame.

We were on our feet, screaming like crazy as the Tarantulas came from behind to beat the Scorpions 3–2 in a game that went down to the wire. When we filed out of the arena with the other fans and made our way to Jacob’s dark brown SUV, Sarah suggested we drive through something called the Winter Wonderland Celebration of Lights, which had just opened for the holiday season.

Jacob kind of frowned on the idea, and I was neutral, but the girls were giddy with excitement. So we decided we’d better take them. Sarah liked to support the holiday light display, because the money raised went to help local mentally handicapped children.

When we approached the guardhouse at Lake Shawnee, I offered to pay for our car to enter and did so through the passenger window directly behind Jacob.

“I love coming here,” Sarah said from the front seat, as she scooted closer to Jacob. “This is a fabulous lake. You can’t see it well at night, but it’s like seven and a half miles around. There’s a campground. It’s beautiful.”

“Daddy, turn your lights off.” Karen handed Sarah a blanket from the back and got us one as well. She tossed the wool throw over me, then got beneath it herself and snuggled close.

Jacob squinted into his rearview mirror. “The guy behind me doesn’t have his off.”

“He didn’t read the sign ‘All Headlights Off,’” Karen said. “Everyone in front of you has them off.”

Jacob switched his lights off as we drove slowly behind a line of other cars.

The light display was magnificent. Dozens of large and small Christmas trees were decorated to the hilt. We passed myriad lights created in the shapes of large animals, stars, planets, trains, and a beautiful nativity scene.

“Check that out,” I said. “The nativity scene. It has a whole new meaning this year.”

Without a word, Karen clung tightly to my arm and rested her head against my shoulder.

“This guy
behind me has his lights on again, his brights.” Jacob sighed. “Get with the program, mister.”

When I turned around to look, headlights from the high-riding vehicle blinded me. “I can’t see a thing,” Jacob said, as the girls squirmed slightly in their seats.

“Pull over, Dad. Let him go by.”

That’s when the car’s bright headlights started blinking.

“What the—he’s flashing his lights at me now.”

“Honey, pull over,” Sarah urged him. “Just let him go past.”

Without saying anything, Jacob eased the SUV off the right shoulder of the long, curvy road into the grass. We were right next to Shawnee Lake, which had a huge, lighted dinosaur protruding from its dark waters.

“He’s following,” Jacob said cautiously. “Right behind me.”

As we came to a stop at the side of the road, I looked back to see the bright headlights—four feet from our rear bumper.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “That may be the truck from last night.”

“A black pickup?” Jacob barked out, adjusting his rearview mirror.

“I can’t tell, but it’s big, whatever it is.” My heart banged inside my coat.

“I’m going back there.”

“You are doing no such thing, Jacob,” Sarah insisted.