Chapter 14

The Last Day

11:28:45 p.m.

Terry Carson wondered for the fourth time in ten minutes how he could run late every night. His shift at the plant started promptly at 1:00 a.m., and he never got out of the house in time to stop at the diner, enjoy a leisurely early breakfast, and still be on time. His father had indoctrinated him on Lombardi Time as a teenager, and it should have taken root, but Terry always seemed to run late. He could remember his dad reminding him that Super Bowl winning coach Vince Lombardi expected everyone to arrive ten minutes early as a sign of commitment. Ten minutes early was on time, on Lombardi time.

He glanced sadly at the warm bed and tousled covers where he had recently slept. He'd been having a dream. In his dream, he had been older, married, and settled into a perfect life with his perfect girl. They lived happily in a nice but modest home with their favorite things around them, coexisting with neighbors, fellow workers, and the world at large. In his dream, Terry had cuddled with his make believe wife as she gazed at him with total devotion and utter trust—an experience he loved even in his dreams.

Their dream world was startlingly realistic. It was so real that Terry could have described almost every detail of their home, the clothes they wore, and the world around them. It was uncanny but warm and wonderful. He sighed as he awoke trying to hang on to the gossamer threads of the dream as it fled with the cold and snow.

The bed seemed ever so much better than the cold night air, but work was work and his father was right. A man should always give his employer his best effort—not just on the assembly line but by being on time and on the ball and always trying to do a little better. It was with a certain degree of longing that he left his apartment, double-checked that he had locked the door, and walked down the hill towards Last Chance Diner.

The cold air hit him hard enough to make him wheeze and wince. With his collar turned up and his arms pounding against his chest to get his blood pumping, he walked steadily up Elm Street towards Pembroke Road. Last Chance was located at the intersection of East Goepp Street and Linden Street, not far from where Goepp became Pembroke Road. It was a busy intersection, even though quite far from Wal-Mart and the rest of the shopping district, which was north of downtown toward Highway 22 and Linden.

There were a lot more restaurants over on Broad Street and East Raspberry, a few blocks south, but Terry liked Last Chance, and they were open all night with a bunch of folks who kept things lively.

The places on Broad and Raspberry seemed to cater to kids from Moravian Academy and other local schools. At least, there were always school-aged kids hanging around those places.

Terry loved living close to work. He hated paying high gas prices. If he left his old beater at home and walked to the diner and to work each night, he could save both miles and money. He often went a week without using the car. When he did, it was usually to see his parents over in Whitehall.

It was an easy drive even if he stayed off Highway 22. He could run down Easton, which was a right out of the parking lot of his building, take Union west until he hit Fullerton, then go north, right to their home.

Because it was Christmas Eve, he had his folks on his mind. They were in good health but stubborn in their refusal to go to church. "Two Lapsed Catholics," is how his father described their spiritual condition. Terry couldn't shake the thought that they were missing something magnificent by aggressively avoiding any kind of church activity, including association with their church friends.

It had started over ten years earlier when the parish priest retired and a much younger, more focused priest had taken his place. Kyle Carson didn't tolerate the modern church as much as he sparred with it. When the Pope had allowed mass in English, Kyle had railed for weeks, threatening to become a Protestant. When the new priest had changed things to suit the more modern way, Kyle had been ready for war.

Terry had found himself in the middle of a war he had no interest in fighting. After drifting away from Catholicism as a teenager, he had spent several years with no church affiliation, preferring simply to skip the whole thing. He referred to those years as the time he spent in "God's Waiting Room."

Rather than hardening him against religion, his sojourn had made him aware of the presence of God in his life and the power of God in the world. The hard places in his soul, instead of getting beaten up, had been beautifully bruised by God's gentle, loving touch.

Three Christmas Eves ago, he had been walking home from the three-to-eleven shift when the recorded bells of a store-front church had caught his attention. The eleven o'clock Christmas Eve Service was about to begin. Terry, without a thought about what he was doing, had found a seat on the side. The church was small, poor, and struggling but the message was beautiful. He had listened. He had been rapt with a renewed heart and suddenly hopeful spirit to the most powerful sermon on Love, Joy and Peace, he had ever heard. As the candles were lit one by one off the Christ Candle, the meaning of Christmas had come fully alive for Terry and he had felt the ice break up inside him. In the collected glow of Christmas Eve candles, Terry had known he was no longer in "God's Waiting Room."

When the shift manager informed Terry he would be working the night shift on Christmas Eve this year, he accepted without question. In these economic times, having a job was a wonderful and comforting thing. The little storefront church had a six o'clock service on Christmas Eve that Terry attended, knowing it was a poor substitute. Sad but determined, he was there at six and again at seven-thirty, needing two helpings of the Son of God's miracle birth to make up for missing his favorite time to worship.

This was another disappointing Christmas Eve when his family wouldn't be going to church together. Terry wondered if it might be possible to convince his dad to go as a family in the morning but gave it up as a bad idea. Kyle Carson never ever gave in and was proud of his perfect, stubborn, record.

Terry called his parents before turning in for his pre-shift sleep. He assured himself that they were well stocked for the storm, would be careful about clearing the walks and driveway, and were prepared to stay in out of the weather until he arrived for Christmas dinner with them and Beth's family. His mother always asked about potential sweethearts but Terry never had any "news." It was an almost embarrassing ritual that he wished was not part of their every conversation.

Because his sister, Beth, had provided grandchildren, Rhonda Carson thought Terry was somehow shirking his responsibilities by remaining single. She never thought her "gentle" urgings were cruel or hurtful. If asked, she would have said she was sure Terry loved the teasing as much as she loved dishing it out.

Married right out of high school, Rhonda and Kyle had grown up together. The products of strict, Catholic upbringing, neither had engaged in much "dilly-dallying" with the opposite sex.

Rhonda had known that her mother would be shattered if she came home and announced that she "had" to get married, and Rhonda Cunningham would never have disappointed her parents that way. The marriage had had its share of ups and downs, but their love was the long term, stable kind of love that would last until death parted them.

Kyle Carson was the second son of an old Bethlehem family. The offspring of an insurance agent, Kyle had inherited a facile mind and a quick, sharp wit. He had excelled in school, married, and worked his way through insurance training at night while working at the foundry. Their two children had come between two unsuccessful pregnancies and Kyle had fiercely protected his children, partially as a result of Rhonda's fragility following each of her miscarried children.

Terry, as the older, had been welcomed with equal parts adoration and amazement. Kyle couldn't quite grasp this whole person he and Rhonda had made. Night after night, he had come home from night school and carried the sleeping Terry through the house in one arm while holding the assigned reading text in the other. Rhonda would awaken and realize that her husband was up pacing the floors and find him talking quietly to their firstborn about life, work, love, and a man's responsibilities.

She had never scolded him. Terry was their miracle baby and he was as much entitled to hold and care for him as she was. When Terry had needed a fresh diaper, Kyle had simply shifted his book to the changing table and taken care of his little man without losing his place. The tenderness and overwhelming kindness displayed by her only recently adolescent husband had never ceased to amaze her.

Terry had never lacked for love or attention even after Beth's birth. Rather than dividing their time between the children, Kyle and Rhonda had simply given more of themselves. By the time Beth was a toddler, Kyle had finished school and begun working for an insurance agency. His boss had been kind, patient, and intent on grooming Kyle to buy him out one day.

That's exactly what had happened. After a mild heart attack, Mr. Bogardus had asked Kyle and Rhonda to his home for dinner and a discussion about the future. They had driven home afterwards with a plan to take over the agency and buy out Mr. Bogardus over ten years. The agency had prospered, and Mr. Bogardus died two years later, forgiving the remaining portion of the debt in his will.