Part 3 (1/2)

And standing proudly in the center of the gra.s.s was the Jesus statue.

Joshua climbed out of his car and walked toward it, remem-bering all the times he'd worked or played or loved or laughed in the shadow of that chiseled, ten-foot piece of stone. A few years ago the Bethany Chronicle ran a story about the statue, detailing the history of the piece. Created by a local artist, it was donated to the city before the turn of the twentieth century Of course, back then Bible lessons were taught in public schools and the Ten Commandments hung in every cla.s.sroom. The townsfolk received the statue gratefully, in awe of the artist's ability to capture Christ's expression of compa.s.sion.

Over the decades stories had risen and become part of the town's folklore-stories of people pa.s.sing through town, spotting the Jesus statue, and being so moved they gave their lives to the Lord then and there. Or of people who'd been to the park a hun-dred times suddenly seeing something about the eyes of the sculpture that caused them to come clean with G.o.d and pray for a fresh start.

Joshua moved closer to the statue. It was no surprise.

The statue depicted Jesus, arms outstretched, palms up, beck-oning those with hurts or fears or pain to come to Him. There was something about the eyes...something steeped in love and peace and grace and forgiveness. Something that showed the way Christ would always yearn for the return of His people.

Joshua was at the foot of the statue now and he read the plac-ard engraved at its base: ”Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest... 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. Jesus.”

That was it. A person could actually feel his soul resting in the presence of Christ's words, in the shadow of His image. Not that the statue itself held any power, it simply directed one to con-sider the greatness of G.o.d, the peace one might experience if only he took Jesus up on His offer.

Certainly in light of the political climate and in light of the persecution promised in Scripture, it was understandable that some might find the statue offensive. But remove it from the park? Joshua thought about other public places he'd visited, parks with statues of famous generals, influential Native American leaders, or great men and women in the Civil Rights movement. If those statues were allowed, what right did HOUR have to remove one that depicted Jesus Christ?

Regardless of whether people took Him at His word, Christ was real. He lived and died and made a tremendous impact on people, both in His day and in the present. That alone should be justification for keeping the statue up. Christ was an historical figure.

But Jesus was so much more than that. And Joshua was willing to bet the people at HOUR knew this. Certainly they were aware that no other man in history had affected mankind as much as Christ. No other had demonstrated the power to instill such deep emotions and widely varying reactions from people. His presence was life-changing for some while it filled others with violent hate. There was no one else who evoked such a dra-matic response from all who came to know of Him.

But then no other man was the Son of G.o.d.

Joshua sighed, studying the statue's eyes. They seemed so life-like. So full of love, of compa.s.sion.

Joshua closed his eyes. Don't let them file suit against us, G.o.d. What if we lose? What of the cost to the people of Bethany if the statue is forced to go?

Joshua blinked and turned his back to the statue. Gazing into the blue sky over Bethany he begged G.o.d again to keep HOUR from filing, painfully aware that the law was on their side, not his.

Be strong and courageous, Joshua. I will go before you.

The holy whispers resonated in Joshua's soul, bringing a sense of peace he hadn't felt since Bob died. Somehow he knew that whatever might happen Monday, G.o.d would see him through. He rested in that thought for a moment. Okay, Lord...I'll trust You.

After all, what choice did he have? Outside of G.o.d's intervention, if HOUR filed suit against Bethany on Monday the situation would be hopeless.

Whether Joshua was strong and courageous or not.

Five.

J ordan drove to Bethany Sunday afternoon and by ten o'clock that night had checked into a local motel. Normally seven hours in the car would give him time to review his caseload, strategize about upcoming lawsuits, and work on closing argu-ments for those in progress. This time, though, he'd been plagued by unwanted images, memories that had propelled him into an exhausting inner battle. Every few moments he was drawn to remember the past, to walk through it and touch it and savor life the way it had been. But just as quickly would come his determination to keep such thoughts at bay. He was a survivor, not a sentimentalist. He refused to live in yesterday's time zone.

If that wasn't enough, he was burdened by the uncomfortable feeling that his life's work was somehow flawed. His opponents were defenseless types, such as the New York schoolteacher or pastors or youth group leaders. Was there really victory in win-ning cases against such people? People who certainly had never intended to cause harm? Shouldn't he have been using his legal talent to rid the streets of real criminals?

Of course, anyone who encouraged public expression of reli-gion was a criminal in Jordan's mind. But still the feeling remained.

In the end he blamed his confusing thoughts on overwork and a lack of sleep. When he reached the hotel, he put away his things, brushed his teeth, and dropped into bed, where he immediately fell asleep.

When he awoke Monday he fairly sprang out of bed, show-ered, shaved, and had a cup of coffee two hours before he needed to be up. He had three very special visits to make. How they went would determine his final decision about filing suit against Bethany. His boss would agree with him either way. If Jordan called and said he'd changed his mind, that the statue was not as offensive as he remembered it to be, Hawkins would never mention it again.

Fifteen minutes later, he drove up in front of the Bethany courthouse and found a parking s.p.a.ce. As he made his way up the steps, Jordan caught his reflection in the mirror. He prided himself on looking nice and today was no exception. A professional wardrobe should make a statement and his consisted of Armani suits, starched b.u.t.toned-downs, and soft leather dress shoes.

He cursed himself for not driving to Bethany and doing this sooner. Five years sooner. Back when the clerks at the courthouse had first refused to find his sister's file. He'd made more than twenty calls in the months and years since then, but always the answer was the same: ”The records are sealed, sir. No one can get that information.”

Jordan's heart beat hard in antic.i.p.ation. He'd learned a few tricks since 1995. The only way past the fortress of red tape was to show up in person. He walked up to a counter labeled Records and waited his turn. Would this be it? In the next few minutes would he actually find out where they'd sent his sister?

”Next.” A stout woman barked the word and cast an impatient glance at Jordan. He clutched his briefcase to his side as he moved up against the counter and smiled at the woman. Her name tag read Olivia.

Often women were moved to do what Jordan wanted simply because of his looks. Olivia scowled at him, waiting for him to speak. Somehow he feared this was not one of those times. ”Hi. I'm an attorney working on a local case.” He smiled as though that were all the explanation he needed to provide. ”I need to check out a file.”

She scrutinized him, her face a twist of wrinkles and bad atti-tude. ”You new around here?”

Jordan tried to look unaffected by her frigid tone. ”Actually, I'm from New York. One of your citizens in Bethany asked me to consult on a matter. Can I give you the file name?”

Olivia s.h.i.+fted her weight, her lips a single line of distrust. ”What local citizen?”

There was a beat while Jordan's mind raced for an answer. ”He asked me not to mention his name. The lawsuit is highly confidential.”

”You got ID?”

Jordan pulled out his wallet and flashed her several pieces, including his Bar a.s.sociation members.h.i.+p card. Finally he tossed her a business card. Jordan Riley, attorney at law Come on, lady, what d'ya want? When he could think of nothing else to hand her, he smiled again and waited.

Olivia released a heavy sigh. ”All right, what file do you need?”

Did all the clerks at the courthouse have Olivia's charming demeanor or was he just lucky? He cleared his throat.” It's a Social Services file. Mother died, two kids were sent to different foster homes. Should be two files, actually. I need the one under the daughter's name-Heidi Riley. No relation.”

He hadn't spoken his sister's name for years. The pounding of his heart was so loud within him he figured everyone in the room could easily hear it. He watched Olivia write down the information and waited for her to turn around and head into the archives room for the file.

Instead she shook her head and set down her pen, like a judge rapping his gavel on the bench. ”Social Services cases are closed to the public.”

Jordan forced a chuckle to cover up his frustration. ”I told you, I'm an attorney. I need the file for a case I'm working on.”

Olivia planted her hands on her hips. ”I don't care who you are, or what high-falutin' big city you're from. You're not getting a Social Services file. Cases where children are placed with foster families are of the utmost privacy in the state of Pennsylvania.”

Panic replaced frustration as Jordan saw his opportunity slip-ping away.” Listen, I can see the file if I want to. But all I really need is one piece of information. Maybe you could check it your-self and give me that detail.”

Olivia stared at him, not answering one way or another.

”I need to know where the girl, Heidi, was placed. Who she was placed with.” Give me a break, here, lady...

Olivia's eyes grew wide and she laughed out loud. ”That's exactly what the state wants kept private.” She thought a moment. ”How old did you say the case was?”

Jordan's shoulders fell. ”Sixteen years.” Would he never find Heidi? Was there no way to see the file?

A deep chuckle rang from behind the counter again as Olivia shook her head. ”A case that old wouldn't be at this courthouse anyway. Those files are at the state's microfilm library. You'd have to pet.i.tion them if you want a chance to be heard. Even then, I've never heard of opening a placement case. Only the person whose file it is has a right to see those records.”

”Fine, I'll try the microfilm library.” Jordan smiled, wondering if it hid the pain that racked his heart. Heidi, don't give up on me... I'm trying to find you.

”You know-” Olivia's expression softened, as though what she was about to say might actually help Jordan feel better about his wasted effort- ”after sixteen years she wouldn't be at the same foster home anymore. She's probably married and living halfway across the country”