Gracie was speaking to the judge: “I’m always curious how a judge’s faith affects his work.”

  The judge eyed Gracie curiously. “Have you ever asked Judge Claremont that question?” he asked.

  “No, but I’ve never eaten venison chili and corn bread with him either.”

  Judge Williams didn’t immediately respond, and Buddy shifted uneasily in his chair. Williams placed his spoon on the plate beside his bowl of chili. Buddy wasn’t sure if the judge was going to explode or deliver a mild rebuke.

  “It’s interesting that you ask about that. Although I wouldn’t have put it in those terms, I’ve been thinking about my perspective on being a judge quite a bit during my stay in Milton County. As a young, ambitious prosecutor, I primarily focused on advancing my career. That worked out well, and I was appointed to the bench by the governor when I was only thirty-four. Two years later I won my first campaign for reelection. At that point I thought I would be satisfied with what I’d accomplished. But I wasn’t prepared as a person to best handle the responsibility a judge carries and the power he has over the lives of the people who appear before him. My reaction was to create a judicial persona, which ended up as a serious case of black-robe-itis. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “I have,” Beatrice answered perkily.

  “I wonder where?” Williams said with a sideways glance at Buddy before continuing. “After many years, my attitude ended up alienating enough of the voters in my district that they ushered me out the courthouse door. I still fall back into my old patterns, but since coming here, I’ve been asking myself if change is possible and what that would look like. I assume you believe faith would be part of that process.”

  Buddy was listening with his mouth hanging partly open. Gracie looked only slightly less shocked than he did.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “I believe faith should be at the center of life for everyone.”

  “That’s why you pray like you do,” Beatrice said, nodding her head.

  “In your opinion, what would faith at the center of life look like for a judge?” Williams asked Gracie.

  “I don’t know about judges,” Beatrice interjected. “But Buddy acts out the practical side of faith. He takes cases for people because they need help, not just to make a fee. And he treats everyone with respect, regardless of how much money they have or whether they might be able to do something for him in return.”

  “How do you know that?” Buddy asked.

  Beatrice looked at Gracie. “Isn’t that Buddy’s reputation?”

  “Yes, it is,” she said.

  “And to my thinking there would be opportunities for a judge to do the same sorts of things, only differently because he’s a judge,” Beatrice concluded.

  “Your mother cuts to the heart of matters,” Williams said to Buddy. “That’s one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed getting to know her while I’m here. She’s been part of the main reason for the self-analysis I mentioned earlier. She’s made me think about myself without trying to pressure me to do so.”

  It was one of the most unique dinners of Buddy’s life. The judge’s receptivity to the combination of Gracie and Beatrice was a huge surprise. Gracie mentioned a couple of Bible verses, which the judge dutifully noted in his phone, and Beatrice shared about the priceless value of each person.

  Partway through the dessert of peach cobbler topped with ice cream, Judge Williams held up his hand. “Enough,” he said. “I’ll consider your arguments.”

  “I’m not trying to be argumentative,” Gracie replied.

  “And you haven’t been,” Williams said. “But I need to take all this under advisement.”

  Before the judge left, Bailiff gave Beatrice another kiss on the cheek.

  “Good night,” the judge said.

  “Good night, pretty lady,” the parrot said.

  The bird’s final repartee convinced Buddy that the parrot was, in fact, acting as Judge Williams’s surrogate.

  “Would you like me to give you a ride home?” Buddy asked Williams.

  “No, I enjoy walking after dark in a town where it’s safe to do so. You take it for granted, but I’ve served in circuits in which the police parked a patrol car down the street from where I was staying.”

  After the judge left, Buddy and Gracie helped clean up in the kitchen.

  “Would you like some chili to take home?” Beatrice asked them.

  “Yes,” Buddy answered. “So long as you include a big piece of corn bread.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Gracie added. “And Buddy can have the rest of the cobbler.”

  “Done,” he said immediately.

  Beatrice yawned as they worked.

  “Why don’t you let us finish up?” Buddy asked.

  “Are you sure?” Beatrice answered, unable to hold back another yawn.

  “Gracie can supervise.”

  “Okay.” Beatrice nodded. “It was wonderful having both of you here this evening. I enjoyed it a lot. I think Bryant did too.”

  “You’ll find that out the next time the two of you are together without anyone else around,” Gracie replied.

  They divided the chili. While Buddy scrubbed the large cooking pot, Gracie straightened up the dining room.

  “Find any cracker crumbs?” Buddy asked when she returned to the kitchen.

  “Yes, along with bits of the other things Bailiff ate. Overall, he was fairly neat for someone without a napkin.”

  Buddy shook his head.

  “What?” Gracie asked.

  “For a dinner without alcohol, that was wild. All it took was a parrot at the table and you preaching to a retired judge.”

  “Did I come across as preachy?”

  Buddy saw he’d hit a nerve that he didn’t know existed. “No, I didn’t mean it that way at all. Both you and my mother did a beautiful job of expressing yourselves. It was natural and credible because that’s who you are on the inside.”

  “You found me a credible witness?” Gracie asked with a smile.

  “Yeah, that’s a fair statement.”

  “What did the judge think?”

  Buddy dried the inside of the large pot with a dish towel. “It’s hard to know. The fact that he took you seriously was a good sign. Did you get the impression he was putting on a show for my mother?”

  Gracie shook her head. “No, and it made me see him in a different light. Not that I totally trust him, but he’s willing to consider making some changes in his life. Maybe you’ll get a chance to follow up with him when you see him at the courthouse.”

  “Or you will,” Buddy replied. He returned the cooking pot to its place on the bottom shelf of one of the kitchen cabinets. “Would you like to sit on the front porch?” he asked. “I think there’s a nice breeze blowing.”

  “Sure. I’m not in a rush to go home.”

  Nineteen

  Gracie stopped off at the downstairs half bath and checked her appearance in an oval mirror above the sink. Her hair looked fine, and she applied a light layer of fresh lipstick. Being in Beatrice Smith’s house had been so natural to Gracie that she felt like a joint hostess, not a guest. But her emotions were still heightened by all that had taken place since she marched from the kitchen into the dining room to challenge Judge Williams about his faith. She took a few deep breaths to relax.

  Outside on the porch, she found Buddy sitting in a white wicker rocking chair with a padded cushion. There was a matching chair beside it with a small side table between them. Two glasses of ice water rested on the table. A yellow light that wouldn’t attract insects shone from the ceiling above the front door. Gracie sat down and took a sip of water.

  “You know I don’t believe like you do,” Buddy said. “And I figure your question at the table to the judge was also directed at me as a way to force me to consider the differences between us.”

  “Not really—” Gracie started.

  “Will the prosecutor please let me finish my answer?” Buddy cut in.

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, regardless whether Judge Williams thinks about what was said around the table tonight, I was paying attention. And while I appreciate what you and my mother said about the way I practice law, that doesn’t have much to do with what I believe about God. I’m just trying to be ethical and honorable.”

  Buddy stopped and stared across the porch toward Franklin Street. Outdoor post lamps projected a soft yellow glow into the approaching dusk. A dog barked in the distance. Gracie waited.

  Buddy continued, “If I’m honest about it, my life has been a succession of trials and errors—a lot of false starts, wrong turns, and dead ends. I press on, but I’ve always felt stuck, and I want to get unstuck. Does that make any sense?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the renewal of hope that I might find Elise, slim as it might be, has caused me to think about the man I want her to meet when she first sees her father.”

  Not wanting to make a sound that might disrupt Buddy’s thoughts, Gracie sat perfectly still in the rocker.

  He turned slightly and faced her. “I’d like you to pray for me. That I’ll be the kind of man my daughter deserves.”

  Gracie immediately knew what she should say before she prayed: “I’ll be glad to. But God wants you to be that man whether you ever meet Elise or not.”

  Buddy was silent for a few moments. “Maybe you’re right, but I need something external to motivate me.”

  Gracie had another sentence on the tip of her tongue but left it lying there. Buddy’s heart was open. That was the important reality of the moment.

  “Okay, here we go,” she said.

  Gracie had never started a prayer by saying, “Here we go,” but she quickly realized it was a perfect opening. She prayed for Buddy’s journey, going all the way back to what she knew about his past into his present. She asked for the intervention of heaven for him and everyone close to him. And when she mentioned the name of Jesus, Gracie shivered slightly as the presence of divinity wrapped around them.

  Gracie knew she had to voice what happened. “Did you feel that?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Buddy answered, raising his head and opening his eyes. “And thanks for making me say it before I could let myself doubt. If you’re finished, I want to pray before I explode on the inside.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Buddy bowed his head and proceeded to pour out his heart in a torrent of words that would have swept Gracie from the porch if they’d had physical form and substance. Nothing in her religious experience matched what she heard. Buddy retraced the path she’d laid out in her prayer but made it his own, acknowledging where he’d erred and asking to be changed. He mentioned actions and attitudes. He spoke about opportunities lost and time wasted. He laid bare selfishness. He admitted responsibility. He wasn’t emotional. He was thorough. Stunned, Gracie opened her eyes. Buddy was moving his right hand up and down as if emphasizing a point of law or evidence in the courtroom. Gracie knew she was witness to a miracle.

  Finally, he stopped, opened his eyes, and looked at Gracie. “Something is happening to me right now,” he said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Buddy closed his eyes, and a well of thankfulness overflowed in more heartfelt words. A trickle at first, it gained in force until Buddy’s voice cracked, and he stopped. Gracie waited. When he didn’t speak, she added a few simple words of thanksgiving and praise of her own. She opened her eyes as Buddy reached over and took a sip of water.

  He stared at the glass for a moment. “That is the best drink of water I’ve ever had,” he said.

  Gracie smiled and pointed up. “There’s more where that came from.”

  “What do you mean?” Buddy asked as he looked up in the direction of the porch ceiling.

  “Jesus talked about living water flowing from those who believed. It’s a way to describe the presence of the Holy Spirit.”

  Gracie’s words weren’t completely foreign, but they dripped with meaning unknown to Buddy moments before. He laid his hand on his chest. He’d never felt so full in a way that had nothing to do with eating a good meal.

  “I want to write some of this down before I forget it,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  Buddy intended to get up from the chair to leave, but neither of them moved. He felt an invisible weight gently keeping him in place. He glanced at Gracie, who was sitting peacefully with her eyes closed. Buddy relaxed and didn’t fight the blanketlike sensation. His senses were more acute: the sounds from the yard, the faint smells from the flowers, the shadows cast through the trees by the setting sun.

  He took in a deep breath and spoke: “I’ve never felt more alive.”

  Gracie opened her eyes. “Me either. What’s happening to you is rubbing off on me, and I like it.”

  They continued to sit beside each other in silence. When Buddy finally checked his watch, he was shocked to see that over fifteen minutes had passed since he mentioned leaving. He shifted in the chair and took another drink of water. Gracie glanced over at him and smiled.

  “Thank you—” Buddy started, then stopped when Gracie raised her finger to her lips and shook her head.

  “Go home,” she said. “Write, draw, sit quietly, or do whatever you think you should. We’ll talk soon.”

  Buddy couldn’t stop smiling during the short drive home. He grabbed his sketch pad and sat on the back porch. Instead of drawing, he jotted down his thoughts and impressions, what he was sensing and seeing and feeling. It was an explosion like nothing he’d experienced before. It was unlike anything he’d ever written—the words were alive, the images real.

  “This is different,” he said to himself. And as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew the reason: “I am different.”

  Buddy wrote the simple statement on a fresh sheet of paper. He stared at the collection of three words. He suspected it would take a lifetime to plumb the depths of what it meant to be “different.”

  “Wow,” he whispered. “This isn’t what I expected.”

  Buddy had never considered himself a rebel, an agnostic, or an atheist, but after what transpired on his mother’s porch, he knew he’d lived in practical agreement with all three of those labels. The joy and lightness and freedom he felt overwhelmed regret. He didn’t try to rein in what was happening in his soul or force it to conform to any prior perception of religious stereotypes. He was different.

  The box containing his mother’s journals was still beside his chair. Taking one out, Buddy began to read the words with new eyes. His mother’s expressions of simple, sincere faith no longer appeared as nice thoughts but dripped with power. Buddy was particularly drawn to prayers she’d prayed for him. That God would bless him, speak to him, touch him, direct him, protect him, and open his heart to receive divine love. Buddy found himself agreeing with everything she’d written and thanking God for answering.

  He also had an irrepressible desire to talk to someone about what had happened. His mother deserved to know, but she was now sound asleep. He remembered Gracie’s statement that they would talk soon. He suspected she didn’t mean this soon, but that didn’t stop Buddy from picking up his phone to call.

  * * *

  Tears began to stream down Gracie’s face as soon as she was behind the wheel of her car. God had touched Buddy Smith. And Gracie was there to behold it. It wasn’t the first time she’d been present when someone met the Lord. Each encounter was unique, but Buddy was special. She relived the prayer the Lord gave her, and the response that exploded from within Buddy’s heart. Gracie began to express her thanks out loud and didn’t stop until reaching her house. After giving Opie an exuberant greeting, she remained so excited that she couldn’t sit still and walked through the house praising God until she began to shout. It was something Gracie had never done in public or private, but there was no suppressing what rose up within her.

  When that passed, she turned on her tablet and found the place where she initially entered a request that Buddy Smith would come to know the Lord Jesus in a personal way. It had been an unanswered item for over a decade. She wrote the day’s date and the answer. As she typed, Gracie returned to Beatrice’s front porch and visited the miracle again in her mind.

  Next to Buddy’s name, she’d also written a prayer for Elise. Tonight anything seemed possible, but Gracie didn’t pray that Buddy would find Elise. Instead, she fervently asked that even if Buddy never met his daughter on earth, Elise, too, would become a child of God. It was a transcendent request beyond earth and time. Gracie finished and closed the tablet. She was too worked up to go to bed, so she sat in the den with Opie on the sofa beside her. Gracie was stroking the dog’s soft fur when her phone vibrated. Buddy’s name appeared as she grabbed it.

  “How are you?” she asked before he said anything.

  “How do you think?” he asked.

  “Better than at any other time in your life,” she answered.

  “Are you about to go to sleep?”

  “No.”

  “If you’re interested, I’d like to read some things I wrote when I came home. The words poured out of me.”

  “Yes, I’d love that.”

  Gracie curled her feet up beneath her and listened. She’d always considered Buddy naturally eloquent, but hearing what came from deep within his heart overwhelmed her a second time. When he mentioned being different and how that would take a lifetime to explore, she sniffled more loudly than she intended, and he stopped.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “It’s just so beautiful and personal. And I’m so honored that you’d share it with me.”

  “You deserve to know.”

  “Keep going,” she said.

  “That’s it for now,” Buddy said.

  Gracie started to tell him what she’d prayed for Elise but felt an inner check and didn’t. “Thanks so much for calling,” she said.

  “And to you for listening.”

  Later, Gracie lay in bed with her eyes open. Opie was already asleep, and she heard him snort. Sometimes the dog’s legs would quiver while he unconsciously chased squirrels or chipmunks in his dreams. Gracie offered a final prayer of thanksgiving, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes.