Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [192]
That morning Brady was struck by an idea so bizarre that he began to believe it could have come only from God. He paced. He sat. He stood. He turned it over in his mind. Impossible. Could it work? He couldn’t wait to bounce it off someone. But he didn’t dare even suggest it to Chaplain Carey yet, not until he found out if it could even be done.
At his end-of-the-day meeting with his lawyer in the isolation unit, Brady gushed his idea.
Mrs. Carey-Blanc just sat there shaking her head and telling him all the reasons why it would never fly. Rules, regulations, protocol, procedure, no exceptions, and the list went on and on.
He just smiled at her.
“I’m not going to pursue this for you, Brady.”
“Yes, you are. I can tell.”
“You can’t tell it by me. Have you been listening? It’s impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible. ‘I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.’ That’s from Philippians.”
“Yeah, I know. Chapter 4, verse 13. Don’t forget, I grew up with your spiritual adviser. I don’t mean to be flippant, Brady, but not even Christ can help you with this one. Simply not going to happen.”
“But you’ll try.”
Ravinia rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Sure you would. You know everything, and you’ve been working inside the system a long time.”
“I’d be laughed out of here,” she said.
“Just tell me you’ll try.”
“Brady, really, be serious. Think this through. Can you imagine the warden going for this? Uh-uh. No way.”
“I like your idea of starting with the warden,” he said.
“I said no such thing.”
“Start at the top; go right to the man.”
“You know what his nickname is?”
Brady shook his head.
“It’s Yanno.” She told him why.
“That’s funny.”
“Neither of us will find it funny when he throws in a few expletives.”
“But you’ll try?”
“Brady, don’t ask me to do this.”
“I’m asking.”
She sighed. “And you’ll take no for an answer?”
“Not from you.”
“From the warden?”
“Yeah, no.”
“Very funny. But seriously, Brady, if he says no, it’s over, right?”
“Okay, listen, ma’am, I know I’m new at this, and I’m not saying God spoke to me like He did to your dad, but I feel like He gave me this idea. If He did, no one can stand in the way of it, right?”
“Well, first of all, if you ever call me ma’am again, I’ll drop you as a client.”
“No you won’t. You like me.”
“I’m not even ten years older than you, so don’t be using matronly names for me. And the sad answer is, yes, even if God gave you the idea, someone can stand in the way of it. Not everybody here acknowledges God, you know.”
“And how about you?”
“Sorry?”
“You, Mrs. Carey-Blanc?”
“That’s personal, and I’d appreciate it if we kept our relationship on a professional—”
“Sorry. I mean, I just, you know, wondered if you still believe in Jesus or—”
“If you must know, I have not entirely thrown the baby out with the bathwater, as the saying goes. But God and I have not been on speaking terms for a long time.”
“The baby with the bathwater. I like that.”
“Never heard that before?”
“Oh, sure. But I figure you mean the baby Jesus.”
That stopped her somehow, left her silent. Finally she spoke, trying, he thought, to lighten the mood. “I’ll tell you what: if we get anywhere with the warden on this, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Then maybe you and God will be on speaking terms again.”
“That just might do it, but don’t press your luck. And I’m serious—I do not want to discuss my personal life with you.”
Adamsville
Thomas sat in his living room staring at his daughter. “That is so wrong on so many levels. You sure he was serious?”
She nodded. “He’s earnest, I’ll give him that.”
“Earnest is one thing,” Thomas said. “Insane is another. What an ugly idea. Well, I just hope his faith isn’t shattered when it gets shot down.”
“I’m already having second thoughts about even agreeing to pursue this,” Ravinia said. “If Brady just