Jonah’s eyes were red, his hair matted to his forehead, and his shirt twisted from a night spent curled on top of his covers. He looked like he hadn’t slept, eaten, or moved since yesterday.
“I’m not going,” he said thickly. “I’m not going to class. Ever.”
Kate started toward him, but Jonah reached for Atlas instead. The baby calmed almost instantly as Jonah pulled him close and stepped back into the dim room.
Eli didn’t hesitate to make his move. “Mind if I come in?” he asked. “Just to sit with you and Atlas?”
Jonah didn’t answer, but he didn’t say no.
Eli stepped inside, his heart aching. The shades were drawn, casting the room in shadows. The air was stale. A tray with a half-eaten sandwich sat on the desk.
Atlas had already rolled against his father’s chest, his tiny mouth slack, one hand curled in the collar of Jonah’s T-shirt.
Another beat of silence, and something cracked in Eli’s heart, creating a deep longing. Only one thing could fill that hole. Only one place to go. Pausing, he turned to the doorway where Meredith and Kate stood side by side, their expressions drawn in concern.
“Meredith, can you do me a favor? Run upstairs to my room and grab the Bible by my bed.”
He caught the flicker in Kate’s eyes—he’d seen that look before. A tightening. A step back. But she said nothing.
“Gimme a sec.” Meredith disappeared and Kate sighed, looking as if she had no idea what to do.
“Can we all stay?” Eli asked Jonah. “Kate and Meredith, too?”
Jonah closed his eyes on a sigh as he rested on his back, still holding Atlas against his chest. “I don’t care. I’m not talking. And I’m not going.”
Eli gestured for Kate to sit in the chair as he dropped on the corner of the bed, silent until Meredith returned. She handed over a blue leather-bound Bible, worn from Eli’s constant use.
“This was your mother’s,” he said, running a reverent hand over the binding.
“Mom had a Bible?” Meredith asked.
“She had started reading it a few months before…” His voice faded out. “Yeah, she had a Bible.”
From the bed, Jonah nodded—almost as if to say he knew that—and baby Atlas let out a sigh. His little head rose and fell with his father’s breaths, tiny fingers splayed like starfish.
“She wrote in it sometimes,” Eli said, fluttering a few pages before spying her handwriting in a margin and some underlined words. “And she liked the Psalms.”
He flipped there. The pages, now well read, almost opened by themselves to one of his favorites.
“Mind if I read it?” he asked the small audience of three…and a half.
Jonah grunted. Meredith nodded. Kate arched a dubious brow, but then lifted a hand.
“Please do,” she whispered.
“I like this one,” he said. “Psalm 34. It’s one of the few that give us backstory—when David pretended to be insane.”
Jonah opened one eye. “I’m not pretending.”
“You’re not insane,” Eli countered, skimming the words and notes to get to the section near the end that he wanted to read. “‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all…’”
His voice was steady, reading with great awareness of who was hearing this—his broken son, his curious daughter, his deeply non-believing…whatever Kate was to him. And his grandson, who he hoped would listen to hours of Eli’s Bible reading in the course of his life.
“How can there be a God who’d let this happen?” Jonah asked, his voice thick and jagged. “To me? To Carly? To Atlas? What kind of God does that?”
Eli paused and looked up, gathering his thoughts. “He’s not the God whodoesit, son. He’s the God who walks with youthroughit.”
“But why me? Why do some people get normal lives, and I get this? I get a…” He closed his eyes. “I know, I know. Not a curse. Just really bad luck.”
