Deadlock

“But in today’s world, we seem to spend most of our time trying not to think about death. In a famous book from the 1970s called The Denial of Death, the author said we are so afraid of death that this denial was the central fact of our lives. Furthermore, he said, since we have no way of knowing our purpose on earth, we just have to act as though we have one.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? People do not know where to look for the answer. So they don’t think about death. They play games, watch television shows, drink themselves into oblivion, take drugs, seek extreme experiences. Anything to keep from thinking about the reality of this thing called death.”

Holden opened his Bible and started turning pages.

“But the Bible tells us that we need to think about death, because it is going to happen to us. The psalmist says each man’s life is but a breath. And listen to what James says in chapter four: ‘Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.’

“Now James may not have been the life of the party,” Holden said, “but he is telling it like it is. So, too, does the writer of Hebrews. ‘A man is destined to die once,’ it says in chapter nine, ‘and after that to face judgment.’

“What happens after death is, you’ll pardon the expression, of grave import to us now. One either believes there is life after death, or one does not. Those in the middle, whom we call agnostics, don’t feel there is enough information to make up their minds. The tombstone of an agnostic reads, ‘All dressed up and nowhere to go.’ ”

Again, the congregation laughed. Millie didn’t find the comment fu

“The truth is, however, we all go. Where is up to us. I love the book of Ecclesiastes. It’s a book I wish everyone would read. If you want to think about death, think about what Solomon had to say. When he considered death in this world, without regard to the next, he found that all was vanity, a chasing after the wind. That word vanity, in the original language, means ‘vapor’ or ‘breath.’ And all of our striving on this earth, if there is no immortality, is vanity. A chasing after the wind.

“In our day, we think we have become sophisticated about death. A school of psychology became popularized in the works of a Swiss-born psychiatrist named Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Some of you may have heard of her book, On Death and Dying.”

Millie bristled and felt her hands clenching. He was preaching at her! And in the most personal of terms. If she had been stripped naked she couldn’t have felt more exposed.

“Kübler-Ross and others believe that a dying patient goes through a series of stages, begi

Millie was going to leave. Right then. Slip out and deal with her mother later. But Holden brought her up short.

“You have all heard accounts of the so-called near-death experience. They’ve had TV shows about it. People report that they have died, and seen a great light, sometimes at the end of a tu

“But you may not have read much about the other side of the coin. For those who have almost died and reported something like a vision of hell.”

How did he know about her vision? Millie was almost trembling with anger and shock.

“We are not being wise if we do not look at death square in the face, like the Bible does. Jesus talked about death in terms of eternity. And make no mistake. When he talked about men dying without God it was a horror of immense proportions. I sort of wish that stuff wasn’t there, but I can’t close my ears to what Jesus says.

“But in the New Testament, the Greek word for dead is used mostly in co

“One of my favorite passages of Scripture is in Romans, chapter eight. ‘In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’

“Or as it says in the old hymn:

‘Crown Him the Lord of life,

Who triumphed o’er the grave,

And rose victorious in the strife

For those he came to save;

His glories now we sing

Who died, and rose on high,

Who died eternal life to bring,

And lives that death may die.’ ”

Jack Holden bowed his head then and began to pray. All around her, Millie saw heads bowing.

She did not bow.

She glared.

2

Charlene Moore had nowhere to run.

If she tried, she would have to mow down at least a dozen departing churchgoers – a teeming mass of upper-class evangelicals. This was not like her home church back in Dudley. This was a city church, the one closest to her hotel. It must have seated three thousand people.

The service had been a good one. The music was upbeat, a balm for her soul. It had been a tough week in court. The trial was taking more out of her than she had thought it would. Singing helped, and Charlene belted out the tunes as if Patti LaBelle were right there by her side.

And the sermon was first rate. The youngish minister had preached on the comfort of the Holy Spirit. She needed that, too. But afterward, as people streamed from the church, she saw Beau Winsor making his way toward her. And all of the good feelings drained from her.

He made eye contact with her and smiled. She could not avoid him.

“Miss Moore,” he said, extending his hand. He wore an ostentatious three-piece suit, with a gold watch fob dangling from the middle of his torso. In front of a jury he would never have worn such a thing. It screamed rich lawyer. Winsor had made a career out of painting himself as just the opposite.

“What a surprise,” Charlene said.

“For me, too. Imagine bumping into you at my home church.”

“Yes, imagine.”

“You must be staying nearby.”

“At the Madison.”

“Fine old hotel. Been here since the Civil War, did you know that?”

“So it says on their brochure.”

“I’m glad I ran into you. What would you say to a cup of coffee?”

“Thank you, but – ”

“Come on along, there’s a nice café just around the corner.”

“I really should – ”

“We need to talk.”

The café he walked her to was called the Somber Reptile. It was one of those upscale places that were popping up in old downtown areas. It had a yellow and black awning with tables outside near the sidewalk. Each table had a yellow and white umbrella with a pattern of little black alligators.

Winsor sat them at one of the outdoor tables and ordered two coffees. His hair, as usual, was perfect. Charlene suddenly felt like a pair of old shoes with a new tuxedo.

“I want to say right off the bat what a great job I think you’re doing for your client,” Winsor said. “Yes, indeed. A fine, admirable job for your first big trial.”

“Thank you,” Charlene said, feeling set up.

“I remember when I was about your age,” Winsor said. “And had my first big trial. A terrible accident involving a power saw. Man got his hand sawed off clean. Young man, too. Had his whole life ahead of him.”

That was curious. “You were a plaintiff’s lawyer?”

Winsor smiled, showing his perfect teeth. “No, I represented the insurance company. The injured man claimed the saw was defective in design. Had a pretty good lawyer, too. But when it was all over, the jury came back unanimously against him.” He leaned forward. “See, not every injury gets compensation. The jury found that the man was responsible to read the directions and use the saw the right way. He didn’t.”