(I corrected several path problems on August 29, August 30, and September 1, including these selections: Which Version?, Christmas, Images, Body of Christ Discovered, Hymn Midis, KJV Bible, and Spiritual Warfare. Sorry for any problems; please let know if you find others. - Gary)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The pale light of the moon lit half of our beautiful valley as we topped the final hill, while the other half hid itself in the night time shadow. We stopped the car for a few minutes, just to take it all in; Emily cried; I cried. A warm blanket of love and reassurance settled over us, a sense of the Lord's continuing presence and power I had all but forgotten. Once I took it for granted; never again. We had come home.

As we neared the house, we saw several buildings that hadn't been there before, including several houses. The school and the church formed the center of a small community, with our big old house sitting like an anchor near the end of what was now a street. We saw evidence of farming as well, in areas that had long lain fallow. Patrick had made little mention of all this in his letters, and I wondered what lay behind it all.

As we approached the church, we saw several vehicles still gathered around it, and saw light streaming through the windows. Evening services lingered on, which did not surprise me at all. We had long favored long services, the more so since Lamar became our pastor. Mountain people did not seem to mind spending two or three hours in church Sunday morning, then coming back Sunday evening to do the same thing. After all, Sunday was the Lord's day.

I pulled in the church parking lot and stopped. As we got out of the car, the door opened, and people began trickling out of the building. The first person I saw was Lanesa, walking alongside a gorgeous young girl I knew must be Felicia. Lanes turned toward us as she heard Emily's car door slam, straining to see as her eyes grew accustomed to the moonlight. As soon as she recognized us, she came running to me. Laughing and crying at the same time, she flung both arms around my neck.

"Hank! Is it really you? After all these years. We thought we'd never see you again! God has returned you and Emily to us." Without pausing for breath, she rushed over to Emily and hugged her, too, with a bit more restraint. Before either of us had a chance to respond, she turned back to Felicia.

"Felicia, my life, this is your father, Hank Crandall."

The girl came shyly toward me, an uncertain smile on her face. Soft waves of platinum blonde hair framed a sweet face that had to be borrowed from one of God's angels. She was just a little slip of a thing, though I knew she was about twelve years old. In her face I saw the quiet strength that only the Lord can give. I hesitated only long enough to drink it all in, then I stepped over to her, leaned over, and picked her up in my arms. Twelve years old or not, she was still my little girl. She hugged me tightly around the neck, and I could her crying softly as she laid her head against my shoulder.

By this time, others had come out of the church, and stood watching close by. As I released Felicia, I glanced toward the building and saw a younger replica of my Emily, without the long hair, come sauntering out of the building, clasping the hand of his happy bride. Clarice was as bubbly and outgoing as Patrick was shy and reserved. A bit chubby, and not especially pretty, she was nonetheless every bit as lovely as he had always described her.

When Patrick saw us, a huge smile lit his usually placid face. He didn't rush toward us as Lanesa had; that wasn't his style. When he reached us, with Clarice still in tow, he turned loose of his wife's hand and gave me a huge hug. We said never a word as we embraced; we needed none. When he pulled away from me to greet his mother, I saw tears glistening in the moonlight, though my own made his hard to see. Emily displayed none of our restraint as she fell weeping on her only son, but I expected no less. Laughing Clarice took Patrick's place, her voice a tinkle of delight as she lifted her face toward me, and said, "Well, old man, what took you so long? You still haven't kissed the bride."

Coming from her, "Old man" didn't sound like an insult. I performed my duty as a father in law, and she gave me bear hug in response. I decided to count my ribs later. I also decided I was desperately in love with this daughter-in-law of mine. Patrick had the same impeccable taste in women as his "old man."

Familiar faces followed one hard after the other. When the noise from outside reached those inside the church, the remaining people emptied out in record time. Big Rick Bloomington sported a head of gray hair, but so did many of us. He gave me my second bear hug of the evening, though his hurt a lot more than Clarice's. He literally lifted me off the ground and swung me a round a few times before he let my feet hit the ground again. Lamar and Pam greeted us more sedately, but just as warmly. Bonnie and Hammond Rathwell were there, and Bonnie was still Bonnie, only more so. Kay came by with husband Phillip, and brash young Kacee with his latest flame.

We missed a few faces we remembered. Rick's Alberta had died two years before, and Fred Majors had gone to join the Lord a year before that. We knew that, but I still missed not seeing my friends.

Such an atmosphere of praise and celebration fell upon us all that we had church again. Lamar preached no sermon, and we followed no order of worship. We just began singing and praying right there in the parking lot. Emily took one of my hands, and little Felicia took firmly hold of the other. Lanesa joined her daughter, and Patrick and Clarice lined up on the other side of Emily. All of us joined in a great circle, by common consent, and someone started singing the great old hymn, "Blest Be the Tie that Binds." After that, someone else started another song familiar to us all, then someone launched into a prayer of adoration and worship. Shouts of "Praise God!" and "Thank you, Jesus!" rang out all over, and some of the women began an eerie wailing that somehow blended into harmony.

The spirit of prophecy fell upon me, as in days past. When the voices fell suddenly silent, I spoke into the quietness. "My dear children, I have brought you through the flood, but the fire is yet to come. Rejoice, and let my joy in you be full indeed. For a season I will give you rest, that you may be strong for what lies ahead. I AM the LOVE that binds you, I AM the fellowship that brings you joy, I AM the Source of your Strength. I have returned to you that which was lost. I have restored the years the Locust has eaten. Abide in my rest, and in my love. Taste and see that I am good. My wings will shelter you from the noonday heat, and my strong right arm will defeat the attacks of the Enemy. Let praise be upon your lips, and let joy flood your hearts, for I the Lord, have spoken it. I AM THAT I AM!"

Silence piled upon silence. Not one of us spoke, save only in the quiet reaches of our minds and hearts. I fell to my knees, and all around the circle the others followed suit. I leaned forward until my head touched the ground, not daring to lift my eyes toward the holy light that surrounded us. Who was I, that the Lord would use me as His vessel? I, who had rejected Him as a youth, and cursed Him as an adult. I was a miserable worm, yet He picked me up from the dirt and called me His Son. I cried in the knowledge that, no matter how mean and miserable I had been, He still loved me, and forgave my sins from the least to the greatest. It was too wonderful for me, and I began weeping, great wracking sobs shaking my entire frame. All around me, others wept, too, but that didn't concern me just then. I took my hands from Felicia, and lay stretched out on the asphalt.

When the weeping ended, it ended suddenly. Every one there rose to their feet at once, and we all began hugging each other, laughter replacing the tears. We had come home, and the Lord welcomed us there. Those who had to leave the valley to go to their homes left reluctantly.

I noticed that Rick stayed on after all the cars left the parking lot, but thought nothing of it then. Kay and her husband also stayed, as did Pat Major, Lanesa and Felicia, and Lamar and Pam. I knew then who had built some of the house we saw, but not why. Questions could come tomorrow; tonight I just wanted to relish and enjoy the experience of being once more with my family and brethren.

"We kept your room ready for you, Mom and Dad," Patrick told us as we followed him into the house. "Clarice changed the sheets and towels every week for the past twelve years, and I did it before then. I always believed the Lord would return you to us one day." His voice broke then, and he stopped for a moment to regain control. "Sometimes at night, I wake up and see Auntie Mae standing at the foot of my bed, smiling. She always says the same thing: 'Don't worry, Pat, Hankie's coming back.' Then, she just fades away, still smiling. I always thought it was just a waking dream, but maybe the Lord just wanted to reassure me. I suppose now she won't come to see me anymore." He seemed to regret that.

I had no doubt that Patrick had seen my Mae Mae; her spirit pervaded every room and hallway in the big old house. Emily and I slept once again in our wedding bed that night, in the same room Mae Mae had given me as my own. Lulled by familiar sounds and smells, I soon fell asleep in my Emily's arms. Later that night, I awoke to the gentle brush of a hand on my cheek. Opening my eyes, I saw Mae Mae sitting on the corner of my bed, as she did every night for many years. She smiled that familiar smile, and said, "Welcome home, Hankie. The Lord said I could say hello.." She kissed my forehead, then she was gone. I stayed awake a long while after that, thinking about the time when I would get to see her again.

Emily stirred next to me. I put my arm around her once more, and kissed her as she slept. She murmured and smiled, but didn't wake from whatever dream visited her rest.

Monday morning came dancing with sunshine and roses. Yes, clouds covered the sun outside, but Felicia came early, before school, to brighten my day. For the first time, she spoke to me, her face lit by a smile that brought one to me as well. "Hi, Daddy! Here's your morning kiss – I feel like I've known you for a long, long time. All my life, everyone has talked about you. My mom loves you a whole lot, even though I understand Aunt Emily is your wife. I don't quite understand all that happened before I was born, but I know some bad people made you do things you didn't want to do. I'm sorry that I was part of all the trouble you had. Even though I wasn't born yet, I think about it a lot. It bothers me some times."

The idea that this sweet child would ever blame herself for being born left me speechless. It made me cry. I put my arms around her, and hugged her close. "Dear, sweet, Felicia, don't ever blame yourself for something you had nothing to do with. I thank God for you; you're one of the few things that makes that whole nightmare worthwhile. Your mother's being a Christian is the other.. You are a blessing from God, and I thank Him for letting me come to know you at last."

She kissed me again, gave Emily a hug, and ran off to class. Emily smiled at me after she left the kitchen, where we had just finished breakfast. "She's a sweet child, Hank. Lanesa will have to share her, because she's my daughter, too. The idea that that child would feel guilty because she came out of that horrible time in Cleveland tears my heart apart. I cried right along with you."

Patrick came in to tell us good-bye before heading off to work. "Good morning, Son. When you get time, I'd like to get caught up on all the things that have happened these past twelve years."

"We'll talk this evening, Dad. Clarice will be here today, so she can fill you in on a lot of things. Gotta run." He kissed us both, and left for another day's work. Clarice came in minutes later, while Emily and I shared a second cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Mom and Dad!" she called cheerfully, as she walked in the room. "What was it like to sleep in your old bed again?"

"It felt great, Clarice, just like the old days. Emily had good dreams, and I saw Mae Mae."

"Why, Hankie, you never told me that!" Emily scolded.

"Well, I meant to, but I honestly didn't think about it until she mentioned sleeping in our old bed. It happened in the middle of the night. I felt something brush my cheek, and when I opened my eyes, there was Auntie Mae, sitting on the side of my bed, like she used to. She said, '"Welcome home, Hankie. The Lord said I could say hello.' Then she vanished."

Clarice shivered. "That's spooky – but nice. I guess she did what she came to do. She must have really loved you."

"She was the only mother I ever knew. Except for my Emily here, I've never known anyone more sweet and kind than Mae Mae." Emily nodded in agreement.

"Have you had breakfast, Clarice?"

"Oh, yes, Mom, ages ago. I have to get up early on school days. Patrick likes us to have prayer time together before breakfast, then he has his Bible study after we eat. Most days I'm finished with the breakfast dishes by 7:00. I have my own quiet time after Pat leaves for work."

"Then you haven't done that yet," I responded. "You can go if you like; we'll be fine for a while."

"Don't you worry about that. You all will be wanting to go visit after breakfast, I'm sure. I can wait."

"Speaking of visiting, I notice that several people have built houses here in the valley since we left. I don't mind of course, but Patrick never mentioned it. What happened."

Her face turned somber as she answered me. "Pat didn't want you to worry, Dad, so he left out a lot of the bad things."

"Well, I wish he wouldn't have. We could have prayed about those bad things while we were in West Virginia."

"You'll have to speak to Pat about that, Dad. I can only tell you what he said to me."

"Of course. – What kind of bad things, exactly?"

"You remember what happened to Moab and Crystal's house after he died – well, it's gotten worse. One thing he didn't tell you is that bandits murdered Fred Majors as he slept, and they raped Pat and left her for dead. She has really never fully recovered. Someone shot and killed Alberta Bloomington while she was walking to her car in the shopping center, over at Goody. The Satanists, or whoever they are, have threatened Lamar repeatedly, and he escaped death several times only by the Lord's grace. We held a special church meeting a couple years ago, and decided that the valley should be a place of refuge for anyone who would move here and build.

"Rick really didn't want to come, but we finally persuaded him. His children have all grown up and moved away, even Polly, so he's all alone. Pat was already staying with Crystal, and Lamar – "

"Wait a minute – Fred was murdered? Liz's father? Why didn't she tell me?"

"Pat saw her at the funeral, and begged her not to tell you how Fred had died. He made her promise, so I guess she kept her promise."

"What about the others who are still living outside of the valley?"

"Many of them are afraid, and some of them have been attacked, too. Some of them have organized a watch committee, and most have guns in their homes. A lot have left the church altogether; you probably didn't notice last night, but our attendance is only half what it was when you left. A few other people you don't know have been attacked or killed. I'm surprised you didn't see that kind of thing in West Virginia."

I told her of our own encounters with outlaws in West Virginia; Christians, it seemed, were targets of choice everywhere.

"The local bully boy is Jake Stein," she said after I'd finished. "He originally came from around Sidney, but he's moved his gang over around Pikeville recently. It's good riddance, but others have just moved in to take his place in this area. The Lord must have been watching over you if you all traveled such a long way without being attacked. Did you see any bad guys on the way?"

I told her the story of the van, and of our visit to Max Trundle.

"Really? Max was healed? Praise the Lord! We prayed for him for years. We heard he was near death. Lamar told us we should pray God would allow you to see him again before he died, but none of us ever thought anything like this would happen. You'll have to let everyone know."

We left the house shortly after that, following Clarice's directions as to who lived where. The first person we went to see was Pat Majors, who had a little cottage near the school. On the surface, Pat seemed as sweet and cheerful as ever, but her eyes told a different story. She nursed deep hurts inside, hurts that had never healed.

We followed her into the little house, and sat with her in her living room. We had no more sat down than she buried her head in her hands and began weeping. Emily went to her immediately and put her arm around her friend. It took several minutes for Pat to regain her composure. When she finally spoke, her voice was shaky and barely audible.

"I heard about Hell for most of my life, but I never really understood what it meant until that awful night. Those demons of Satan broke into our house while we slept. They hacked my poor Fred to death with axes, then danced around and laughed about it. They made me watch, actually forcing my eye lids open, then they raped me, all of them. I passed out, and they must of thought I was dead. They threw me into a ditch near the house, and left me there. Carmen found me there the next morning; it was all too much for her. She stayed calm through Fred's funeral, showing no emotion at all, then she went completely off the deep end. She left right after the funeral, and we haven't seen her since. I don't know if she's alive or dead.

"I've lost Fred, I've lost Carmen, and Bandy is long since dead. Liz is far away. I have no one left. A lot of times I wish I had died with Fred. At least he doesn't have to suffer anymore. I wonder a lot of times what I've done that God has punished me so much. He must really hate me to let all of these things happen to me. I go to church out of habit, but it doesn't mean anything to me anymore."

What could I say to all that bitterness? I knew God loved her, but telling her that wasn't going to make her believe it. A thought came to my mind unbidden.

"Have you talked to Rick about all of this?"

"Rick? No, why should I? He's as bad off as I am."

"In what way? Is he depressed and angry, too?"

"No," she replied slowly, "He seems as kind and cheerful as he always was. He was pretty bad for a while after Alberta was killed, but he got over that."

"I really think you need to talk to him. I tell you what – you stay here with Emily, and I'll go get Rick.

My good brother agreed to come with no hesitation. He had his battles with hurt and unforgiveness years before Alberta died. He knew, as Pat did not, that forgiveness was the first step in the healing process after brutal attacks like the ones they had endured. As he sat and talked quietly with Pat, and prayed with her, I could see the pain and bitterness start to melt away from her. That day, the two of them became friends. Six months later they were married. The following week, Carmen returned.

Chapter 18

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