The young man had his whole life ahead of him.
Wendell leaned back against the headboard and stared out the window at the night sky. Dwayne was like a lot of Hamilton kids. Bad relationship with his family. No interest in the classroom. Dwayne had been a problem at the school since his freshman year.
Until this semester.
Tears filled Wendell’s eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Lord, I’m trying. I’d give up my own life for those kids. He felt the heaviness of the situation to the center of his soul. Wasn’t this the point of the Bible study meetings? To save kids like Dwayne Brown?
There was just one person he wanted to call, one who would understand the way his heart was breaking. Alicia Harris.
None of it made sense.
He grabbed his phone and was just about to hit her number when he realized it was the middle of the night. It would have to wait. Instead he opened his photo library.
There, in his album of favorites, was a picture of Alicia and him. A year ago summer. The two of them in a canoe paddling around Geist Reservoir near Admirals Bay. Someone hiking on the trail had stopped and taken their picture.
Alicia had come so far since her days of being paralyzed by anxiety. But she would be devastated when she heard about Dwayne. Please, Father, help her through this. Keep her mind steadfast on You. Please.
Wendell thought about Dwayne. In a few hours he’d have to tell the kids at Hamilton High what had happened. How Dwayne had died in a gang fight. Another senseless, tragic, heartbreaking loss.
“I’m gonna need Your help, Lord.” Wendell looked out the window again. “I can’t do this alone.”
Not only that, but just before lunch he and Luke Baxter would attend the jury selection at Marion Circuit Court downtown. The place for more significant civil suits. And if the media attention had been any indication, the suit against him and Hamilton High qualified.
There was only one way to prepare for such a day. Wendell closed out the photo of Alicia and him and opened his Bible app. He turned to John 16:33 and let his eyes move over the words. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
Yes, that was his hope. Jesus had overcome the world.
Wendell had definitely had trouble. Not just at Hamilton High. Losing Joanna had been the toughest thing Wendell had ever been through. But God had seen him beyond that season. Then when Alicia left last year, again he didn’t think he could survive the hurt. But once more the Lord had been faithful to carry him through. Faithful to heal Alicia.
Now it was this. The death of Dwayne Brown. Another time when Wendell was sure he couldn’t get through it without divine help.
He dragged himself out of bed. Was this the cost of holding a Bible study at Hamilton High? The unseen enemy of his soul attacking all God had given Wendell? He breathed in deep and turned to another section of Scripture. Matthew 11:28–30. Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened. . . . Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
Alicia had mentioned reading those very verses the day her school suffered such loss. Now they came to Wendell again.
Come to me, all you who are weary . . . He held on to that simple invitation. That’s me, Lord. I’m coming to you. Today when he had to tell the students about Dwayne. And later when he had to appear in court to defend his right to lead kids in the ways of the Bible. Wendell would believe the impossible was possible. That he would not only find help in staying linked to God Almighty.
But he would find rest for his soul.
His ever-weary soul.
? ? ?
WENDELL ARRIVED AT school earlier than usual, before sunup. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, so he figured he might as well come here. The older kids would help the younger ones get off to school. This way Wendell could pray and prepare. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to deliver bad news to his students.
But he could ask God that maybe—just maybe—it might be the last.
It was 6:15 when he parked his car and made his way inside. He went to the field house first and used his master key to open the locker room. Each locker was more of an open-air cubby. And each was identified with the name of a football player. Wendell walked down the row until he reached the one he was looking for.
Dwayne Brown.
The kid’s helmet hung on the hook and his game uniform was clean and pressed, waiting for a contest that would never come. Wendell ran his finger slowly over the boy’s name. Why’d you do it? Why’d you go to the fight?
He could picture Dwayne’s smile. The one that lit up the kid’s face so much more often lately. Dwayne was in heaven . . . Wendell knew that. He sat down on the bench and stared at the boy’s locker. He had seen the changes in Dwayne. What being a believer in Christ had done for Dwayne. He had a new confidence. Improved grades.
Hope for the future.
So why did Dwayne go back to his old ways? And why was his body in a morgue this morning when he should’ve been getting ready for school? Between this and the trial, Wendell struggled to draw a breath. The weight of it all was so much.
He closed his eyes. Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest . . .
Wendell heard the sound of the door opening behind him. Probably one of the coaches. Before leaving this morning Wendell had sent an email to the faculty telling them the news. If one of the trainers had checked his messages, he might come down to the field house early, too. The loss was going to hit everyone hard.
Wendell turned to see who it was, but the person in front of him was not one of the staff. Wendell stood. The sight of her was like oxygen in the room. He could breathe again. “Alicia.”
“Can I be in here?”
“Yes.” He took a step toward her. “The boys aren’t on campus yet.”
Alicia nodded. Her eyes were red and swollen. Clearly she’d been crying. “I had to come.” Before Wendell had time to believe she was even here, she was in his arms. “Dwayne. I . . . I can’t believe it.”
“I know.” He ran his hand along the back of her head, over her hair and onto her shoulders. “It’s awful.”
“Jenny Anders forwarded me the email. She thought . . .” A quick few sobs interrupted her. She pulled back and looked at Wendell. “He was in my English class two years ago. There was something special about him.” She dabbed at her eyes and seemed to try to collect herself. “Remember?”
Wendell thought back, and all the sudden the memory was clear. Alicia had one student who had given her a hard time from the beginning. She had talked to Wendell about the boy, and he had given her a challenge.
Pray for him.
Not out loud or with everyone watching. Not in a way that the boy even had to know about. Just pray. “Devote yourself to this, Alicia,” Wendell had told her. “Beg God day and night for a change in the kid and see what happens. God will answer. He’s faithful that way.”
Only now did Wendell understand. “The boy you prayed for . . .”
“It was Dwayne.” Alicia laid her head on Wendell’s chest again. “I believe . . . God is a God of miracles.” She held him tighter. “But this is so hard to understand.”
A thought hit Wendell. Alicia didn’t know about Dwayne’s faith. Of course she didn’t.
He put his hands gently on her shoulders and took a step back. “Dwayne gave his life to the Lord, Alicia.” Wendell searched her eyes. “He’s been coming to our Raise the Bar club since school started.” Tears blurred his own eyes. “I baptized him a few weeks ago in John Oliver’s pool.”
“What?” Now it was Alicia’s turn to be shocked. She ran her fingers through her pretty dark hair and walked slowly to Dwayne’s locker. “I had . . . no idea.” She sat down and stared at the boy’s name.