Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [191]
Thomas stood and wished he had a window to look out. “No, he won’t. Allard would use Brady as a political football, making it look like he wants to give nothing to a condemned man. If you could be guaranteed that it would be clear that Allard wants the feds to butt out and so does Brady, that’s one thing. But if it can appear that Allard is personally putting the kibosh on Brady’s appeal, that’s the way the governor would want it to appear.”
“I’m resigned to acceding to his wishes. . . .”
“He admires you a great deal. He worries about you though.”
“Brady Darby worries about me? Whatever for? Oh, Dad! You haven’t revealed any personal information about me, have you? I don’t need him knowing about—no, wait, you didn’t even tell him about Mom. Surely you’ve said nothing about Dirk and me.”
“Of course not. He just senses a sadness in you. That’s all.”
Ravinia squinted at him. “Really? Well, he can ask me if I’m all right if he’d like. Meanwhile, feel free to assure him I’ll survive.”
66
Adamsville
Thomas sat next to Grace’s bed, helping her eat as they watched the evening news. Governor Allard feigned anger and waxed eloquent as he stood on the steps of the state capitol building and railed against Washington.
“We take care of our own state business,” he said. “We caught Brady Wayne Darby, we sentenced him to death, and by heaven, we’re going to carry it out. Delaying his fate even one more day would put an unnecessary financial burden on our taxpayers. The federal appellate court can stew over this as long as they want, but we have an execution date, and all the other mandatory appeals have failed. The condemned man himself, I remind my respected colleagues, pleaded guilty and has insisted all along that he will in no way cooperate with any attempt to overturn his sentence.”
“That’s the part Ravinia made him put in there,” Thomas said. “She had counsel from her learned father on that.”
Grace smiled. “She told me. Said you were afraid the governor would try to make it look like Brady was pushing the appeal.”
“This will put an end to it,” Thomas said. “The protesters will always be there, and I admire their devotion and tenacity, I really do. But any delay in this would be the most unpopular political move anyone could make.”
“Brady will get what he wants,” Grace said quietly. “It saddens me, but I know it’s the right thing.”
“Interesting,” Thomas said. “Brady said your illness made him sad.”
“Bless his heart. I wish I could record more music for him, but I just can’t.”
“He asks for the first one every time we meet. He’s got some of the songs down. You should hear him sing.”
Grace seemed to study Thomas. “You light up when you talk about him. You love that young man, don’t you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I care for him a great deal. He’s such a sad case.”
“But he’s also your spiritual stepchild. You’ve invested yourself in him.”
“It’s not just him. I’ve wanted to do this with any of the men all through the years. He’s just the first who’s seemed genuine. Did I tell you he’d like a picture of you and wondered if you’d mind if he taped it on his wall?”
“Sure, but not a recent picture. I don’t suppose they’d let you shoot a picture of him for me.”
“No, but there have been plenty in the papers.”
“He looked so forlorn in those.”
The phone rang. It was Ravinia. “Anything wrong?” Thomas said. “Summer okay?”
“We’re fine, Dad. I’ve asked Dirk if I can drop her off. I need to talk with you.”
“Urgent?”
“Sort of, but nothing personal, so nothing to worry about. I’ll be there within the hour.”
Death Row
Brady sat trying to memorize some verses from Matthew while letting one of Mrs. Carey’s songs echo in his mind. But he found it hard to sit still. He had spent much of the previous night penning a letter to his aunt Lois that began, “You’re going to find this hard to believe, but some of what you tried to teach me about God must have stuck, enough to make me worry what was going to happen to me when I die. . . .”
She would