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GOD IS REASON
A novel about the theory of everything
by James Rushing
AisA publishing
To Linda and John
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
1 THE PLEDGE 9
2 THE PARTY 50
3 THE VISIT 110
4 CREATION 145
5 THE MISSION 200
6 FAIRCREEK 223
7 THE RECONCILIATION 251
8 GOD IS REASON 286
Chapter 1
THE PLEDGE
Paul Brand waved the flaming torch high over his head to rousing cheers and applause. He thrust
the flame into carefully stacked wood to light
the ceremonial fire ending three days of camping,
swimming, hiking and games. Brand stood straight and
tall, his back to the canyon wall. He watched the fire
come alive as the applause died away. He heard the
river flowing over the rocky shallows and the
cottonwood leaves chattering in the evening breeze.
He thought: this ceremony is in recognition of who we
are, how we came to be here and where we want to go.
— 10 —
He saw individuals gathered around him whose
prosperity and proud carriage reflected confidence in
their way of life. He watched as they filled in the last
empty seats around the blazing fire for the ceremony
to honor their belief in freedom.
Paul combed his fingers through collar length, wavy
brown hair and buttoned his fringed leather jacket. He
felt much older than his forty years, but too young for
the job Rex Barrington had asked of him tonight. He
watched the ritual fire make hungry leaps around the
logs and flash slivers of fire in the wide eyes of the next
generation on the front row. He waved to friends he
hadn’t seen since last year’s gathering.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew hats off, whipped
tent flaps and rattled pots and pans in the kitchen tent.
Then, the twist of wind was gone, leaving smiles and
an expectant silence… It’s time for the Freeman’s
Pledge.
**
One hundred yards up river from the ceremonial
fire, Vincent West emerged from a deep pool carved from bed-
He anxiously watched Lara Barrington struggling to find
a handhold half-
Vincent shared Lara’s triumph when she gained a
narrow, rocky ledge and carefully stood up. She flashed
a gleaming smile at Vincent, and then her smile slowly
turned down. She glared at him and shook her head
no, whipping her long blonde hair side to side,
reminding him of his promise not to follow.
Delicate ferns marked the spot where she
disappeared behind a jagged out-
Seconds dragged painfully for Vincent when Lara didn’t
reappear. A vivid memory flashed of her explaining,
with youthful pride, as she posed for him at her father’s
Art Academy: “…every year at summer camp…for five
years…since I was thirteen…I climb to the top of
Barrington Falls and jump.”
Vincent became increasingly fearful and his urge to
climb after her overcame his promise not to. Minutes
later, breathing hard, he stood on the ledge where he
saw her last. Then she appeared at the crest of the falls,
staring at the clouds as if she had slipped into a trance
and was part of an ancient ritual. He heard her singing
in beautiful harmony with the muffled roar of
Barrington Falls.
The relief in Lara’s eyes, when Vincent was safe at
the top, seemed to hold an invitation to embrace her;
he tried, but she squirmed free.
Lara looked hurt, “You broke your promise. You
think because you’re such a great artist that you can
break your promise? Promises mean a lot to me. You
should know that by now.”
Vincent calmly defended himself, “You didn’t tell
me you would be scaling a sheer canyon wall and you
failed to mention that the falls was this high.”
Lara gazed at the purple mountains in the far
distance and didn’t answer.
“Don’t you want me to see this wondrous view?”
— 12 —
Vincent asked with a smile; opening his arms to the
canyon and mountains beyond.
“You’re hustling me. I wanted you to understand
that this is a special day for me…for us.”
“Sorry. I keep my promises. But, you scared me. I’m...”
“There you go again.”
Vincent smiled at her distrust and leaned over the
edge to gauge the distance to the pool below. It wasn’t
the crashing water that made his body tense and his
stomach flutter, no, it was a wild idea.
Lara studied the distance to the pool below.
“Well…Are you going to jump? It’s a long way down.”
The updraft whipped her shorts against her summertanned thighs and fanned her hair into an undulating flag of glistening gold.
“Jump? No.” His body tingled with decision. He
breathed deep. The roar of the falls drumming in his
ears suddenly seemed like music; soulful and
harmonious music to accompany the drama of falling
water, the mystery of the forested canyon, the majesty
of distant mountains and the daring performance he
was about to give.
Lara inched closer to the edge. “I’m going to jump
when the last bit of the sun sets on the horizon.”
Vincent smiled and inched closer to the edge. They
stood shoulder to shoulder. He felt the updraft envelop
his face and body.
Lara straightened and stared at the orange sliver
caressing the distant mountains. “You don’t have to
jump just because I am. I’m big on traditions…and
— 13 —
promises…” The sliver became an orange dot and then
blinked out on the horizon. Lara leaned forward, bent
her knees, and jumped. Vincent watched her grow
smaller and smaller until she became a white splash.
He watched her swim clear, then he sprang up and out
with all his might.
Vincent floated to the top of the churning water,
surrounded by froth, face down, smiling. He felt himself
being pulled by the back flow toward the crashing
waterfall. He heard Lara shouting his name frantically
as she swam to his side. He felt strong hands turn him
over and strong legs tow him to shore. He felt her use
all her strength to pull him from the water, push her
lips to his and breathe life into him…before he encircled
her in a bear hug, and held his lips to hers, as he let
her struggle free.
“You’re not hurt! And you’re not funny!”
Vincent laughed harder with each outburst until
Lara began to giggle. They kissed long and hard, with
young hearts pounding.
Lara’s voice was soft but final as she tied her hiking
boots for the walk back to camp. “I want to carry on the
family tradition. My three brothers all had wedding
ceremonies here below the falls, and my parents before
them. The tradition goes back all the way to when my
great-
“Can I invite my friends from the city?”
“You can invite your brother. But I don’t know your
friends and they don’t know me. I want a small
gathering and a short ceremony, just the family, Paul
— 14 —
Brand and Lydia. I want Paul to say the words for us.
My parents had a ceremony here when my father was
twenty-
the same age as us.” When no response came, Lara
asked shyly, “Did your parents have a ceremony when
they married? You never talk about them.”
“Why should I start now?”
“We’re going to be married. I need to know you.
You never talk about your past.”
“That’s because…it’s the past...and I…”
“Tell me just a little.”
“Good things or bad things?”
“Good things.”
“My dad was a musician and my mother was an
artist, an oil painter. Ryan and I grew up in Old Town;
all the abandoned buildings were our playground. I
remember my parents were gone most of the time. My
job was to take care of Ryan. One day they left and
never came back. We were alone after that. Ryan was
ten and I was twelve. That was ten years ago.”
Lara’s voice quivered, “You were alone at twelve?
How did you live? How did you go to school? I know
so very little about you. You must tell me everything.”
Vincent looked hard at Lara as if she’d broken their
agreement. Suddenly nervous, he felt a familiar
alienation to her world like when he first came to her
father’s art academy five years ago from the mean streets of poverty-
model, she had taught him to love, to trust. He wanted
to tell her everything. He replied cautiously, “Me and
Ryan were alone, but only a day at a time. We were
already enrolled in school so we just kept going. I
remember that we always went to sleep dreamin’ they’d
come back. They never did. Sometimes I still hope that
they’ll come back. I see people walking in the distance
and I think it’s my mom or my dad, but… They were
killed in the war we figured.”
“War? What war?”
“The Drug War,” Vincent said and shrugged when
Lara didn’t smile.
“Didn’t anyone try to help you?” she asked.
“The ‘Do-
But we got away and hid in Old Town.”
“You were alone for a long time…”
“We weren’t alone, we had each other. Then, five
years ago, we were caught and Paul Brand talked the
judge into sending me and Ryan to live with you and
Rex and Ruby instead of keeping us in jail or the
orphanage or somewhere…”
Lara was quiet, a frozen look of surprise on her face.
“…now you’ve got me.”
“Have I?” Vincent coiled his body as if to leap at her.
Holding up one finger, Lara subdued him, “But, I
have a few conditions.”
“I’m long aware of your conditions: I have to jump
off a forty-
“I tried to stop you. You could’ve been hurt.”
Vincent remembered in a slow, serious voice, “We have to have a wedding ceremony at Barrington Falls. I have to build you a home in the mountains. I have to finish my sculpture and I have to take the ‘Freeman’s Pledge’ tonight. Do I have to learn to sing and dance too?”
Lara didn’t answer. She glared at Vincent as if to
question his sincerity. “You have to win ‘Best of Show’
with your sculpture; that means the most to me, and
you didn’t jump. I jumped. What you did was terribly
dangerous…and thrilling. What was that?”
“…a front layout with a full twist.”
Lara relived the moment. She gasped for breath.
Staring at his body she muttered, “It was beautiful.
Where did you learn to dive like that?”
When he stared at the thundering falls and didn’t
answer, she asked in a soft but critical voice, “I really
don’t know you, do I? I could never get you to talk
about yourself. I only know what you can do. You can
sculpt, dive, and kiss and…”
He answered with care, “I am what I am…and yes,
you do know me, and yes, you can know me better.”
Vincent kissed her hands and holding them in both of
his, looking into her eyes, he pleaded, “But that’s
enough about me. How can I make you happy?”
“Are you conning me again?” Lara asked and smiled.
“Besides that, you ought to know a lady would never tell
all. I want you to always wonder what will make me happy. That gives me a slight advantage. But I can tell you this: you’re a great artist and you’re going to be famous. I’ve never seen a work as beautiful as yours. I’m….” Lara let Vincent kiss her for the fourth time that day.
Lara heard the horns call above the falls’ thundering
wall of sound. “Vincent, we must go now,” she said
and pushed away. “I’m going to sing at the ceremony,
right after the rifle salute.”
Lara danced and twirled on the green grass to the
sound of the falls. “Can you hear the horns announcing
the start of the closing ceremonies? See the bonfire?
It’s my favorite part of camp even though it means camp
is over. Let’s go.”
Vincent’s voice chilled the air between them. He tried
to warm his tone but the voice he heard was hard, street
hard. “I have to leave the ceremony early, right after the
pledge. I have an appointment in the city at ten.”
Sensing his change, her voice also turned cold,
“Can’t I go with you?”
“I’ll be back before midnight and after tonight I’ll
take you with me wherever I go. We’ll never be apart
again. We’ll build a home on our own plot of land and
I’ll sculpt and you can sing…just like we planned. I
promise.” When Lara’s face remained blank, he offered, “Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“No. Yes…but not an important one; anyway, not
one that you didn’t wiggle your wily self out of. So
maybe I should quit while I’m ahead,” she replied,
unsmiling.
“After tonight I’ll be free and clear of the city.”
**
Paul Brand heard the sudden quiet, and it seemed to
him as if the gust of wind had signaled the closing
ceremony to begin. He raised his hands, palms out,
“Freemen and Freewomen of Liberty County…” Hearty
applause exploded like fireworks in recognition of their
identity. Paul paused, smiling, his eyes on the children in the first row. His voice echoed off the canyon wall,
“We are a free and prosperous people today because our ancestors united, and fought and died for freedom and justice. They understood that there can be no freedom without justice!” Applause spiked by cheers charged the canyon air. “We reaffirm this truth to ourselves daily and tonight we pass this knowledge on to the next generation.” Cheers, yells and whistles enshrined the words that made possible their abundant life. Paul lowered his voice a notch and said reverently,
“The pioneers who settled here were Freemen and
Free women because they chose to create, not take what they needed to survive. Through the years we have
preserved this freedom and prospered because we are
united! United in defense of freedom!”
Paul’s voice sounded deep and confident, “Our
ancestors had only their courage, hope, and reason to
guide them across the oceans in their pursuit of liberty.
They came to this country after being beaten, looted,
and enslaved by roving gangs, tyrannical emperors,
bankrupt monarchs, punishing theocracies, and every
other kind of petty thug and brutal invader who
survived by looting and terror. They left behind the
‘takers’ to fight among themselves over the diminishing
spoils of endless wars and sailed away from the ruins
of their sacked villages and came to America. They
learned from thousands of years of bitter slavery that
freedom is a place that exists only where Freemen are
united in defense of freedom, united in defense of The
Constitution and The Bill Of Rights!”
Applause and cheers greeted the full moon rising
over the canyon rim. Paul welcomed the moonlight; it
would temper the darkness that had closed in around
them. He saw Vincent and Lara’s beautiful, smiling
young faces on the edge of the gathering. He felt the
heat of the fire reflecting on the full length of his tall,
lean frame. He ceremonially picked up his antique rifle
and held it high over his head to a lusty roar of approval.
The unity felt as solid to him as the ancient rifle he
cradled across his body. He breathed deeply as the
tribute died away and straightened to his full height
when every eye turned to him.
“History has taught us over and over again that there
is only one defense against those who would violate
our individual rights. That defense is The Declaration
of Independence and the U. S. Constitution. These
sacred documents declare that every individual is
endowed by his creator with inalienable rights and
among these rights are the right to life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness. Government was created by our
ancestors for one purpose: to guard and protect these
rights. The symbol of this principle is the Statue of
Armed Freedom that crowns our national capitol
building in Washington, D.C. A statue enshrined there
so that every individual in America and throughout the
world, for all time, will never forget, that tyranny knows
only one force that can resist it: the Freemen united!
Tonight we pledge to stay ‘ready and able’ to stand with
all the Freemen and Freewomen of the world—united
— 20 —
as one!—in defense of Limited Government and
Individual Rights!” The gathering responded by
cheering and applauding.
Paul raised both hands and asked, in a full, steady
voice tinged with emotion, “So that we may never stray
from the principle that has given us peace with justice
and prosperity, please stand for the Freeman’s Pledge.”
When they were all standing, Paul said in a strong
voice, “Repeat the Freeman’s Pledge after me: ‘I harm
no one. I let no one harm me.’”
The people pledged solemnly in one voice: “I harm
no one. I let no one harm me.”
After seconds of silence, Paul raised his rifle and
declared, “To all those who have kept and defended
this pledge throughout the ages—with their lives, their
wealth and their sacred honor—we salute you!”
At that moment, twenty designated members aimed
their rifles at the stars and fired until their rifles were empty.
Paul lowered his ancient flintlock, and in the seconds
of silence that followed the rifle salute he heard a voice
rising in a song that filled the air. The beautiful sound
seemed to come from all around, until slowly the circle
opened, and Paul Brand saw a young girl singing.
Lara Barrington sang with such a full and expressive
voice that people could hardly wait for her to finish
before they burst into applause. Dressed against the night
chill in boots, denim pants, and a red plaid shirt, Lara
sang a lively tune next and was clearly delighted when
everyone joined in and guns were traded for guitars.
Hours went by singing songs and sharing stories
— 21 —
that had been passed down for generations. The
celebration wound down when no one moved to put
more wood on the fire. It burned low and was soon a
bed of bright, glowing coals. Lighted by a blanket of
stars overhead, the free people of Liberty County drifted
away and found the pathway to their tents.
**
All the rules and regulations just keep me from
doing my job, undercover police agent Morton Rath
thought, over and over, as he mixed himself another
whiskey and water on the smooth top of the river-
bar. He swiftly put the bottle away and carefully wiped
the natural rock top with a cloth. He liked everything
neat and clean. “I’m ready for West,” he snarled and
held his drink high.
Rath saluted his image in the mirrored wall behind
the bar. He watched his six-
a third double whisky straight down. He saw in his
mirrored profile a model of imperial man. He saw what
his mother saw and had pointed out to him many times
before her death. “You have noble blood,” she would
repeat amid the squalor and chaos of their onebedroom
apartment.
He smiled at his haggard image: dark slacks,
wrinkled long-
beard. No matter, this is undercover duty and I’m
supposed to look like a hoodlum. Rath saluted his
image and, using his pistol as a baton, bid his reflection
to join the celebration. He tried to march as if he were
leading a parade but staggered instead from behind
— 22 —
the bar to the middle of the spacious room.
Away from the bar and the man in the mirror, Rath
became sullen, aware of his mission. Breathing in
drunken gasps, he turned in a circle, straining to visually
check, with one eye closed, that everything was in place.
“Vincent West could ring the doorbell any second now,”
he whispered to his gun and tightened his grip.
He felt the growing excitement of closing in on the
kill. He crossed the wide room and looked out a
curtained window. Under the dismal street light he saw
an old man with three long coats layered on his back
try to keep his too-
overloaded shopping cart, missing one wheel, down
the middle of the dark street.
When the bum turned a corner, Rath let the curtain
swing closed and tried to think of the last time he slept.
He blurted out, “Two nights ago?” as if expecting his
partner Delgado to answer. Then he realized he was
alone in the room and grinned eerily. He looked down
the hallway, remembering that Delgado was asleep in
the second bedroom.
He nodded approval to his youthful stamina, flipped
open his cell phone and called his backup on the street.
“Fifteen minute check, uh, ten minutes early. Mallory,
are the arrest teams ready? O.K., O.K. I know that I just
called in. West could arrive any minute, and Mallory,
when he comes out and you move in on him, give the
scum a chance to run and save us all a lot of trouble.
He….Negative. No, Delgado is not available. I’m OK.
We have a plan. Stick to it. I’m re-
— 23 —
don’t worry. Has the chief called? I hear that he and the
mayor are going to make a speech tonight about us
kicking off First Strike Crusade. You know the ‘Crusade’
was my idea. They took it over, but it was my idea.
Anyway, at least we’re doing something. We’re going to
clean these scummy streets up, by God, and lock all the
creeps in hell. Ha, ha, ha.”
“I’m O.K. Stick to the plan. Everybody goes by the
book. Call me when you see our player. No, no, no,
don’t worry about us. Hee-
young—at least I am. We’ll sleep when the work is done.
Do your duty. I’ll do mine. Like I said, West will arrive
any minute now.”
He stabbed his cell phone several times at his pocket
as he watched himself in the mirror approaching the
river-
sliding door and opened it on top of the bar. He took a
pipe from the case and loaded it with a tiny crystal rock
from one of two bags in the case. He held a flame to
the crystal, inhaled deeply, and instantly felt the rush,
the warmth, the fullness, the superiority. He laughed
at his image being transformed in the mirror into an
Avenging Angel with white feathery wings on his back,
a golden shield on one side, and a pulsating sword at
the other. He recalled once more the urgency of his
holy mission. I have been sent to punish the pushers
who have lured the innocent youth of this great country
into the sin of using drugs. The vision drained his last
bit of energy as it faded, the wings melting from his
mirrored image like wax in the hot sun.
— 24 —
Rath felt flushed and sweaty. He started to close
the lid of the briefcase but was distracted by an alarming
feeling that someone was in the room with him. He
drew his pistol and waved it wildly as he took quick,
stiff-
groped his way blindly down the hall to the first door.
Waving the automatic pistol, he charged in. A figure lay
fully clothed, face up, across the bed.
Officer Rath waved his pistol over the unconscious
figure, then, gripped by terror, he staggered down the
hall to the second bedroom. Rath opened the door and
stuck in the pistol, then his head, poised to shoot first
and ask questions later. He saw spread across the bed,
asleep, in a rumpled suit and loose tie, the slack figure
of Officer Delgado.
Officer Rath closed the door and, struggling to catch
his breath, returned down the hall, crossed the room
and flopped heavily on the couch. Sitting stiffly upright,
his exhausted mind slowly dimmed. He held the
automatic pistol on his lap, closed his eyes, and waited
for Vincent West to ring the doorbell.
In his wary fashion, Vincent West parked in one of
his “secure” garages, two streets over, and walked
through the dark, abandoned buildings and alleys
behind the River Rock Apartments. He leaped over the
surrounding wooden fence without touching it and
slowly made his way through overgrown, exotic plants
to the side of the apartments and onto the long, covered
porch. Vincent pushed firmly on the doorbell button.
He was sure no one had seen him approach in the dark.
— 25 —
Officer Rath heard the doorbell’s harsh jangle and
sprang to his feet. He saw a dark figure behind the riverrock
bar. Kill or be killed. Rath fired. Rath never saw
the dark figure shatter into a thousand pieces and fall
to the floor.
Vincent pushed the brass button again. He put his
ear to the thick, wooden door and tried to hear if the
bell was ringing inside. He pushed the button again
but heard nothing. He took out a plastic card and
slipped it in the crack between the heavy wooden door
and the jamb. The bolt wedged back and Vincent
entered, ready to excuse himself; claiming the door was
open and he was expected. He smelled gunpowder and
froze, one foot raised. He listened, not moving.
Straining to hear anything, he tiptoed slowly, eyes wide,
through the foyer and looked in the living room. His
knees went weak at the sight of his “connection” lying
on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. On closer
inspection, Vincent saw that he had a small bluish hole
between his eyes. Vincent strained to remain calm as
he tried to find a pulse and couldn’t. His mind raced
with unanswered questions.
Vincent crouched, eyes wide, heart beating wildly,
poised to take flight. He saw the shattered mirror and
the briefcase on the bar. One last look at the drug dealer,
then Vincent took the briefcase and fled the way he came.
**
Paul Brand was hesitant to take the path to his tent
and end this special day. As he contemplated the night’s
events, he saw a figure emerging on a dark path. “Lara,
— 26 —
I thought you would be asleep by now.”
Lara, adorned by silvery moonlight, answered with
a most delightful smile, then sighed, “I put my dear
mother Ruby to bed. She played herself out today trying
to keep up with all the kids. I’m waiting up for Mr.
Gone-
before midnight.”
“It’s after twelve now.”
“I know. But what’s a little girl to do? He promised.”
Lara added the last log to the smoldering fire and
sat in a folding chair that was left behind. Paul said,
“Well, I’ve known you since you were born. You have a
lot to offer any man: talent, a mind of your own and all
the physical attraction that nature can endow. Wherever
Vincent is, I’m sure he’ll be drawn back to you.”
“He’s a great artist. He’s kind and patient; in the
year I posed for The Singer, he never yelled at me once.
I love him, but I know that’s not enough.”
Staring at the aroused flames that seemed to be
exploring the log for an ignition point, Paul answered,
“I saw Mr. West take the pledge tonight. As far as I know
he’s never attended this gathering and he’s never taken
the pledge. I don’t think he’s even been to this canyon
before today.”
Lara rolled her eyes. “For the last five years, he’s
either been working on sculptures in the barn or gone
to the city. Mother believes he’s obsessed.”
“Ruby tells me that you and Vincent want to marry?”
Lara beamed. “He did a layout with a full twist off
the falls.”
— 27 —
Paul sat on a folding chair with his legs outstretched
to the bed of coals. He looked in the direction of the falls
and listened for its roar. “So, he passed the final test?”
Lara looked hopeful. “Yes. Vincent promised that
tonight will be the last time we’ll be apart. He says he’s
giving up all his business in town.” Lara rose from the
folding chair and walked a few steps in the direction
Vincent would appear when he returned. She spoke to
the empty space between them. “After Vincent finished
his latest sculpture and saw how good he can be, he
decided that he’s only going to do sculptures. We plan to
buy a hundred acres of mountaintop from Rex and build
our home there. Then I’ll sing while Vincent sculpts.”
Paul nodded his head. “You certainly can sing and
I’ve been watching the progress of Vincent’s latest work,
he’s a world-
“Mother wants me to study music on a scholarship
I received, but….Paul, I don’t want to make a mistake
with Vincent.”
Paul agreed, “Mistakes take the fun out of happiness.”
“If we marry, I can still have my singing career. We
talked about it and he agreed.” Lara’s voice trailed off.
“We seem to agree on everything.” Looking down,
she found a long stick and stirred the sleeping coals. A
flame leaped from the point of the stick, and sparks
exploded where she poked. “Agreeing on everything
bothers me, sometimes it seems like he’s just saying
what I want to hear.
“I know Vincent survived by selling drugs before he
came to Highpoint. He claims art has changed him.” Lara
— 28 —
circled the fire she had brought to life. “I don’t know
Vincent very well, even though I fell in love with him
when Rex brought him to High Point five years ago. I
know I’m taking a big chance if we marry. If he hadn’t
agreed to take the pledge, I don’t think I’d take the
chance. Tonight, I think he understood the importance
of the pledge, and I watched him grow in the light of it.
I think he’s changed, but how can I be sure?”
Paul studied the starry sky and whispered
reverently, “Tonight he pledged to harm no one and
to let no one harm him. Hold him to his pledge, and
your paths will join and lead to your dreams—that’s
the miracle of the pledge.”
“I never really understood the pledge. In all the
years I’ve been coming here, I never understood until
tonight that I must keep even those I love from harming
me.” Lara swallowed a lump in her throat and waited
seconds before continuing. She said matter-
“My mother says Vincent is too secretive about what he
does in town. Mother says Vincent will only break my
heart. She’s afraid he’ll love me and then leave me.”
Paul felt his heart ache to think of all that could go
wrong. “Mistakes are always possible. There are no
guarantees in matters of love.”
“Vincent will talk a little about his past but he clams
up if I ask too much,” Lara said impatiently.
Paul assured her, “He’s changed in the five years
since he’s been at High Point. He’s changed most in
the last year since he’s been working with you on his
sculpture. He was wild when Ryan went to prison, but
— 29 —
now Ryan is out and on his own, and Vincent has you.
I believe this story will have a happy ending.”
Lara said firmly, “We want you to give us the wedding
vows. We want to have the ceremony at the falls, two
weeks from this Sunday, early in the morning.”
“I’ll be there,” Paul said. He stood and stretched.
“Promise?” Lara asked.
“I promise.”
“Paul, I’m worried,” she said weakly. “Vincent should
have returned an hour ago.”
“He’ll be O.K. I stopped worrying about him years
ago when he wouldn’t take my advice. He never took
my advice—except when it concerned art.”
Lara perked up, “He took the pledge tonight.”
“If he keeps it or not may be up to you.”
**
Ten blocks of dilapidated factories and warehouses
away from the River Rock Apartments, inside the Bridge
Street Bar and Grill, Vincent tried to forget about the
drug dealer lying face up on the floor. He bought another
round of beer for his drug buyers and thought about
Lara waiting for him. He checked the time, eleven o’clock.
I’ll deliver now. His heart began to race at the thought.
He said to the two hard-
who were drinking with him in a booth, “This is the last
round for me. I’m ready to deliver. Drink up.”
Just then, through the window in the entrance door,
Vincent saw a police car’s flashing lights. He heard cars
screeching to a halt and doors slamming shut. Instinct
sent him running, and he was through the bead-
— 30 —
at the back of the room just as the door to the bar burst
open and a wave of police spilled in.
Delgado was the first through the door. He slammed
the nearest person’s face into the floor and screamed,
“You’re all under arrest!” Delgado watched in mounting
panic as ten officers swarmed over four customers at
the bar and two in a booth and pinned them all to the
floor. The panic came from seeing that Vincent West
was not among them. He saw the last strand of beads
at the far end of the bar swing to a stop. Delgado
screamed, “Mallory! West ran out the back! Cut him
off at the alley!”
Vincent liked the Bridge Street Bar and Grill for
many reasons, but for one reason especially: there were
many escape routes through the halls and rooms of
the large brick building. He flew past the curtain of
beads, ran down a long hall and bounded up three
flights of stairs to the roof. He glimpsed stars when he
jumped a six-
scurried down a fire escape three steps at a time, swung
over the side rail and dropped eight feet, landing
silently on all fours in the alley. From the corner of the
building, he saw an officer lead five uniformed men
into the alley between him and the bar.
Vincent took a desperate chance and dashed across
Bridge Street and through the missing door of a
deserted building. Seconds later the street filled with
police cars, their sirens screaming and lights swirling.
Vincent knew every room and hall in the abandoned
brick giant that occupied the corner of River Road and
— 31 —
Bridge Street. He quickly worked his way through vacant
halls and trash filled rooms to a boarded-
the first floor across River Road from the bar.
Vincent watched through a crack as the police
arrested and carried off everyone that was in the bar.
His two buyers resisted the rough treatment and were
beaten and stomped as they lay handcuffed in the parking
lot. The ferocity of the arrest left Vincent stunned. He
pressed against the cold concrete wall; heart pounding,
stomach churning. He watched the police tow his car
away as six burly, uniformed police kicked it viciously,
leaving dents in the doors. His heart beat faster with
each question he couldn’t answer: Am I wanted for
murder? How could they know I was there? An image of
Lara waiting for him to return gave him such regret that
it sapped his breath and made his eyes roll. He tried to
remember exactly what had happened. He tried to
control his emotions and think. He couldn’t focus. He
desperately tried to control his shaking hands as he
pulled the leather briefcase from a pile of rubble where
he had stashed it before going into the bar. He opened
it. He saw two bags of crystal nuggets and the “buyer’s”
stack of two hundred, one-
thought of Lara and his pledge to harm no one.
Vincent watched as more police arrived and
swarmed over the bar and into the neighborhood
behind it. They’ll search on that side of River Road, he
thought. He climbed rickety stairs on shaky legs to the
sixth floor. He sneaked from window to window in a
panic to locate his pursuers. He could see no one on
— 32 —
the dark streets below. He collapsed in a corner. Minutes
passed, and he could only think of Lara and how she
had looked posing for his sculpture, and how she had
sounded when she was singing at the falls. He
remembered her angelic look when she was taking the
vow to let no one harm her.
GOD IS REASON
A novel
by James Rushing
Excerpt
