Since the day of the accident, Alan Bell had tried to spend each waking moment working. Alan’s efforts to block the event out of his mind was only partially successful. His face was now drawn and he had lost a good deal of weight. He had always been tall and wiry but now his lean body looked weak and emaciated. The smile was gone from his face and little in life gave him joy.
His desire to isolate himself was met with little resistance from those in the community. Even his closest friends caved into the public pressure to avoid him. The only people to object to his constant work were his wife and children.
His wife was jealous of his ability to avoid the public and angry at him for destroying the family name. Her husband had become the local pariah and she was suffering the shame in the quiet eyes that watched her shopping in town. She was the one who heard the whispers and felt the tension when conversations stopped as she drew near.
Alan’s four children ranged in ages from fourteen down to seven. All of them found life very different since the day of the accident. At home it was quiet and they weren’t even allowed to play very often. They, too, stayed on the farm at all times except to go to school. At school the older kids were teased and ridiculed while the younger ones were left mainly to themselves. The Bell family had become a contaminant, a virus to avoid coming in contact with.
After a good month of being exiled and living in virtual silence Mary Jane (Alan’s wife) could take no more. Late one night she told her husband that he needed to do something. She said their life could not continue this way and that he had to find a way to clear the family name. Mary Jane said this thing would never blow over and that sitting still and continuing to hide would only make things worse.
Alan quietly listened to everything Mary Jane said. He knew she was right and never once contested a single point she made. He was a proud and loyal family man and was deeply moved by her stories regarding how the children were being mistreated. He felt that he deserved to suffer, but could not tolerate the idea that his children would be punished for his stupidity. Though he hadn’t a single idea of what he could do to make things better, he gave his word that he would soon clear the family name.
Two more days passed and nothing had changed. Alan worked in the fields from dawn to well past sundown and said nothing to his wife or kids. Mary Jane became increasingly worried that her conversation with Alan had accomplished nothing and only made things worse. Maybe her words had only made Alan aware of the burden he was on his family. His eyes grew increasingly distant and she could see that he was now more uncomfortable around the family.
Around noon on the third day, Alan returned from the fields to inform Mary Jane that he was going to town. Though she wanted to know what he was planning on doing, she respected the look in his eyes which told her not to ask.
Alan left in a truck driven by a part-time field hand who he had recently hired. Once they got into town Alan instructed the man to drop him off at “the corner” and to meet him back at the same spot in two hours.
This was Alan’s first venture into town since the accident. His heart beat fast as he nervously watched the truck drive off into the distance. Alan, feeling like he had just parachuted behind enemy lines, looked anxiously about to make sure he hadn’t been spotted. He knew his mission but was quite unsure if he had the nerve to fulfill it.
In order to avoid detection Alan left the main road to amble across paths which he was fairly certain would be deserted. He hadn’t taken this route through town since he was about ten years old and found the sights of his youth quite interesting. Some things were quite different, yet a couple of back alleys and apple groves were just the way he remembered them.
What would have been a five minute walk if done directly took near fifteen. Alan’s heart once again started to quicken as the church came into view. He soon saw Desmond working in the garden. Alan drew within a hundred yards of Desmond and stopped behind a wide shade tree.
He searched his heart for the courage to walk right up to Desmond. A number of questions surged through his mind. What could he possibly say? Would Desmond even want to talk to him? Was this too soon? Was it a selfish and insensitive act on his part to come see Desmond?
Alan strongly considered walking away. He was embarrassed and frightened and only the thought that he was doing this for his wife and family kept him standing there. Alan’s heart sank as he watched Desmond quietly working in the garden. He had always admired Desmond and felt especially guilty to have hurt his family. He had done wrongs before in his life, but never like this, and never to a person as good as Desmond.
Mustering all the courage he could find, Alan strode away from the protection of the tree and into the open. Not knowing what to expect or what to say Alan approached Desmond from behind as if he were sleep walking. When he was no more than 15 yards away Desmond turned sensing some movement from behind.
Alan stood motionless as he felt Desmond’s eyes peering into his. Desmond, taken aback but not completely surprised to see Alan, looked long and hard giving Alan a chance to speak first. After a few moments Desmond broke the tension by nodding and then saying, “We’ve missed you at church.”
Desmond’s words were met by an uncomfortable smile and continued silence. “I’m not sure about you,” Desmond said cautiously, “but I think we’ve got a few things to talk about.”
A flash of anger rose up in Desmond as he looked at Alan standing there motionless. He could feel his stomach tighten and face becoming flushed with anger. At the same moment he could not help but feel pity for the sheepish face looking helplessly into his.
Alan, paralyzed by fear and shame, could still not move his feet or find words to say. He nodded once again towards Desmond and prayed with all his might to keep from blindly running away. His mouth went totally dry and he cleared his throat to keep from gagging.
With no reply in sight, Desmond once again found a need to speak. “Why don’t we go inside to talk? I believe we both will be more comfortable inside.”
Once inside the church Alan did indeed feel less vulnerable and afraid. The safety and warmth of the church calmed him down and removed the choking feeling in his throat. Desmond, too, felt more uncomfortable. Walking down the long aisle he was able to feel less like a grieving grandfather and more like a compassionate minister.
They walked all the way through the church and past the side exits to the room behind and to the left of the alter. Seated in the same chairs that he had used to talk with Mark, Desmond tried his best to muster up a comforting smile.
Leaning forward and with his eyes cast down Alan finally spoke. “Maybe it was wrong for me to come here,” Alan admitted hurriedly, “but I just couldn’t take it any longer.”
Still not looking at Desmond, Alan continued to race on. “It’s not so much me I’m worried about. What I did was unforgivable, and I can’t imagine how much you must hate me. But what I can’t handle right now is how my family is getting treated. Paula can’t even come into town anymore and my kids are all being treated like they were the one’s driving the car.”
Alan’s eyes nervously glanced up at Desmond after he said the word car and then quickly returned to the floor. He immediately continued on with his thoughts not waiting a single moment for Desmond to respond.
Relaying almost word for word what Paula had told him, Alan recounted the trials his family was experiencing. At no time did Alan talk about himself keeping all the focus on the way his family was being treated.
Nothing that Desmond was being told surprised him, but it touched him all the same. Desmond found the cruelty of many in the community to be deplorable and was saddened to hear the pervasiveness of their vengeance.
Alan’s head remained down almost the entire time he talked about his family. He had shamed his family and was turning to the only person who could usually help in these situations, his minister. In the past whenever someone had wronged him or his family he had always been able to turn to Desmond for help. He had witnessed Desmond’s ability to put an end to hurtful gossip many times, and hoped that he could do the same for his family right now.
While he spoke Alan’s doubts regarding his decision to talk to Desmond grew. He felt like a fool asking for help from the very person his unforgivable actions had hurt most. He wondered what in fact he was asking Desmond to do, and what possible motive Desmond could have for helping him. His plea for Desmond’s assistance died down the more he realized that he was asking for help from a man who had every right to truly hate him. In asking Desmond to help his family he felt like he was asking him to be disloyal to his daughter and the memory of his grandson.
Right in the middle of a sentence Alan stopped talking. His guilt and shame were so great that he found it impossible to go on. He looked up at Desmond and with misty eyes proclaimed, “I really don’t know why I came here. It is wrong that I did, and I deeply apologize for disturbing you with my silly problems.”
Desmond, who could see Alan was considering getting up to leave, motioned him to stay seated.
“I’m actually glad that you came here today. As the minister of this church I’ve shirked my duty by not coming to visit you,” Desmond said earnestly.
“How could you even say such a thing?” Alan shot back in horror. “It shouldn’t be your place to come see me, especially since I’m the one at fault.”
Alan’s head went back down as he finally began to talk about himself. He talked about his guilt and how he deserved to be punished by the community. He talked about how he had considered committing suicide but decided against it because it would solve nothing.
The longer he talked the more his words became filled with self-hatred. This was not so much a confession for Alan, as a need to convict himself. Soon his words of self-denunciation ventured into his account of the accident.
As soon as Alan started to talk about leaving the bar, Desmond knew what he was going to describe next. Desmond closed his eyes to brace himself for what he was about to hear. He wanted to tell Alan to shut up, but somehow he couldn’t. He needed to hear about the accident almost as much as Alan had a need to describe it.
Desmond fought back the urge to scream out in anguish as Alan began his inexorable narration of his ride down that desolate country road. Alan was possessed and no longer could monitor what he was saying. He talked about every thought he had while he drove. He talked with the detail of one who had played the scene through his mind almost every moment for the past month. The nightmare was now entering Desmond’s skin as it had lived in Alan’s since the moment he realized what he had done.
Tears came to both men the moment Alan mentioned the lights that suddenly appeared to the left of his truck as he approached the angled intersection. In one swift moment, Desmond felt the jolt of the impact tear into his body. He saw Andrew’s tiny little body being flung into the windshield as Rebecca’s head flew forward towards the steering wheel.
Though Alan talked about the accident from the vantage point of his truck, Desmond could not remove himself from Rebecca’s car. He was trapped in the car unable to wake his daughter slumped unconsciously next to her son’s lifeless body. He couldn’t move to get help, he couldn’t reach out to touch his daughter or grandson, all he could do was look at them.
Alan’s voice trailed off shortly after he described the collision. In his mind he crawled out of his vehicle and made his way over to the one he hit. He remembered opening the door to see Rebecca looking asleep. His hand began trembling as he watched himself shaking Rebecca in a futile attempt to wake her. He remembered turning to look beside this young woman he had known since she was a babe to find her little boy mangled and crushed.
He hadn’t the heart to tell Desmond any of these images, nor the courage to recall any more. Desmond and Alan sat quietly in their own little worlds of pain. Their silence was long for they had completely forgotten each other’s presence. Aware of nothing but their lingering images of the accident Desmond and Alan stayed motionless.
Alan was the first to drift back into the present. Feeling stupid for torturing Desmond with his memories, Alan wished that he had remained silent. Without looking up Alan mumbled that he was truly sorry for what had happened.
Desmond’s voice trembled and he spoke in a hoarse whisper. He began by telling Alan that he was glad he had come. He said it took a lot of courage to come see him and admitted that he needed this face to face conversation.
“Why are you acting like you aren’t mad at me?” Alan asked feeling a need to be verbally reprimanded.
“Of course I’m angry. I’m not just angry with you, but also Rebecca, the congregation, society and the world,” Desmond sharply admitted.
“Yet, anger is something which I don’t want to carry around with me. What you did was terrible, but was not done intentionally. You’re not an evil person doing evil things, but a good person who did a foolish thing. Now, how could I condemn you for making a mistake almost anyone could make?”
“A good person does not drive a car when they’ve been drinking,” Alan countered looking directly at Desmond.
“Yes, that’s what I hear,” Desmond angrily shot back. “So, you’re the only one in town who has ever driven a car after having a couple of beers. If you want to know what really angers me it’s all the hypocrites who condemn others for the very things they do.”
“Did you have more to drink that night than the others at the bar?”
“No,” Alan replied timidly, “I guess not.”
“Were you the only one drinking who drove home that night?”
“No.”
“So almost anyone there could have been involved in a fatal accident,” Desmond proclaimed. “Only you weren’t as lucky as the others. All the righteousness of the world doesn’t change the fact that it could have been almost anybody driving that car.”
“Your coming here today only reinforces my basic belief that you’re a good person. A good person thinks of others and not just themselves. You came here today not for yourself, but for your family. Now, does that sound like the action of an evil person or a person fit to be condemned?”
Alan felt too guilty to answer Desmond’s question. He couldn’t lie, but he wasn’t ready to verbally concede that he wasn’t deserving of eternal damnation. No matter what the good reverend said, Alan still held himself personally and completely responsible for Andrew’s death.
Desmond changed the tone of the conversation by asking Alan specific questions regarding how his family was doing. One question led into another which led into another. Desmond wanted to know every detail and tried his hardest to give Alan some realistic suggestions.
Alan was more than willing to expose his entire personal life to Desmond. They talked at length about how the accident had effected Paula, their marriage, the kids and his friendships. Alan talked about his insomnia, the endless hours in the field, and the shame he felt each and every time he was in the presence of his wife and children.
Though Desmond succeeded in feeling compassion and even some pity for Alan and his situation, he could not bring himself to forgive him. Alan, too, found some solace in Desmond’s words and advice, but was far from allowing Desmond to absolve him from his sins.
Desiring to reciprocate Desmond’s care, Alan asked how Rachel and Rebecca were doing. Yet, after a few questions, Alan felt very uncomfortable asking for any details. Instead of being supportive, Alan felt like he was invading Desmond’s personal life. Soon, he was through asking about all he was comfortable with, and became anxious to leave.
Desmond would not let Alan leave until he promised that he and his family would attend church the following Sunday. Alan left Desmond feeling unsettled and uncomfortable, but much more at peace than when he had arrived.
Alan’s visit left Desmond confused and ambivalent. Unlike most of his parishioners Desmond did not live in a black and white world of good and evil. His was a gray world, a world all too human. A world of grey clouds and shadows where nothing was for certain.