Chapter 9 - The Path

Midnight! Tim paced up and down in his den in front of the fireplace, shivering from the cold - or was it the fear that made him tremble all over like that?

Tick.... Tick...…Tick….

The hands of the clock took a deep breath, and then inched forwards, groping their way through the darkness lit up only by a single lamp shining on his desk.

"It's over, over, over," Tim thought to himself. “There is no way forward, no solution! Cindy hates me! Arlen hates me! Everyone hates me! Cindy is going to leave me. Arlen is going to axe me from the church. I’ll have nowhere to go. How the mighty have fallen!”

He sat down at his desk, determined to think through his situation and find a way forward. Against his will, though, his splintered thoughts kept returning to Rob Owen. The same images of the blue satin sheets and Iggy Pop posters through his mind.

Next, the grandfather clock struck 3 am. Three am! An hour when only thieves and bloggers were awake.

Tim switched on his computer, driven by a morbid curiosity to find out what the world was saying about the scandal of his visit to Owen.

He scanned the news sites. Surprise, surprise! Each and every one of the websites was carrying reports about his visits to Owen. Yes, the US economy might be imploding; the US dollar might be on the verge of collapse; martial law might be about to be declared; there might be nuclear war between Pakistan or Iran soon; but his escapade with Rob Owen was the lead story. There was a bit on Prison Planet, too.

Tim scanned the comments:

"Leitner has deceived the people thinking he is a custodian of morality, a bulwark against the nation's decline in values, when he was actually an Osama Bin Laden in a Chevy, a stain on public life! But he’s no different from our politicians in Washington. They’re all raking in the cash from the bankers. I tell you who they serve: themselves! A set of scheming frauds who’ve been bought, blackmailed or bullied by the ruling elite. Organised crime has gone to the core of America. I don’t know what Obama can do. I don’t see how he can clean up that mess, but I sure hope he tries harder.”

"Unless you've been living under a rock for the past few days " someone wrote, "you'll know all about the scandal of Tim Leitner. Why does the media focus on this kind of stuff and not on the serious issues like us losing our homes, our jobs, our kids not being able to go to college, and the total fake that was September 9/11. All I can say is I'm glad that at least one of them, that Leitner, has been exposed for the hypocrite he is. Hopefully he'll fade back into the obscurity he so thoroughly deserves. But what about the rest?”

"When I was young, it was all so simple. There were the guys and there were the dames, the gals and the boys. Nowadays they're homosexuals, metrosexuals, transsexuals, asexuals and bisexuals.”

“America's government has sold itself to the highest bidder. We have a whoring Washington and it’s fitting that our religious leaders are whorers!”

Tim got up again and paced restlessly up and down, stopping to look at the windows high up in the wall, that were filled with black, black night, with the shameless, cruel face of true reality and its utter nothingness….

Rap, rap, rap….

Sleet flew out of the darkness without a beginning or an end and tickled the pane.

Tick, tick, tick….

The clock inched forward, killing time. Not knowing what else to do, Tim sat down on the sofa, bowed his head, and began to pray.

"O Lord, Lord! Have mercy on me! Help me, help me!" he prayed. “Help me get out of this mess!”

Silence. There was no God there. He was left alone as usual - all alone in a blind, absurd and malevolent universe that was about to crush him…..

“How disgusting I am,” he thought to himself, his lips quivering. “How loathsome! No wonder God won’t show up for me, assuming there is a God. I am a sinner! A sinner of the most vile and disgusting kind!"

An eternity seemed to pass before the first cold light of dawn appeared. Tim walked into the bathroom, mechanically flicked on the switch. Pale yellow light hit the bathroom tiles and rebounded, whacking him between his eyes. He turned on the gold-plated taps, scooped up some water, and splashed his face and eyelids. He looked at his reflection. His skin had turned a pasty yellow and his chin was covered in stubble. Mechanically, Tim collected his shaving things. He spread some foam on his cheeks, and then picked up the razor.

Next, there was a knock on the door.

"Jude's here," Cindy said in breathless voice. "He wants to talk to you. Tim."

"Jude?"

"The church board sent him to talk to you about your future."

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

Tim dried his face and bleary eyes. He took one last look at his face running in the mirror, misted from the condensation, while he buttoned up his shirt and heaved a sigh.

Cautiously and timidly, hanging his head low, genuinely embarrassed, Tim walked into the kitchen. Cindy had just finished making some coffee. She glanced over her shoulder, saw him and shivered as if she'd just seen a hydra-headed monster.

Tim forced himself to smile. He tucked his shirt into his trousers, then walked up to Jude, and shook his hand, too embarrassed to speak.

Dressed in a red padded jacket, and a red woollen hat, Jude looked like Santa Claus. His cheeks had a bright glow from the cold and his blue eyes radiated good will. But when their eyes met, Jude seemed uneasy. The disagreeable thought occurred to Tim that Jude be might thinking he had had more than a friendly interest in him all these years. He blushed! Oh, the irritation of having disappointed even Jude! One of the sheep who had always looked up to him!

“Lot of photographers out there on your drive, Tim. Geez! Do they ever sleep?”

The tone of Jude’s voice held the promise of a sympathetic hearing.

“Not when they have a scandal and I’ve given them one helluva a scandal!”

“You sure have, Tim. But then, you do everything on a big scale!” Jude said, smiling.

“Please, sit down, Jude.”

Tim pulled out a chair.

“Thanks,” Jude said, taking off his gloves.

Tim sat down opposite Jude, not quite sure what to expect.

Jude didn’t seem to know how to begin either, so Tim summoned up his courage, and started off.

“I’m a liar and a deciever as I’m sure you know. I just want you to realise I know it to,” he said. “I told lies to hide…my immorality. I did all of that because I wanted to make people think I was a better person than I was. I feel so ashamed. I want to apologise to you all and ask for forgiveness. I’d promise I’ll never do anything like that again but it’s too late. The damage has been done. I just want you to know that I’m ready to accept my punishment whatever it is.”
´
Cindy put down a tray with coffee things, so hard, the coffee mugs almost fell over.
Tim looked up, sheepishly.

“Coffee, Jude?” she asked.

“Thanks. I could use a cup to warm me up. Freezing out there.”

Cindy poured a cup, handed it to Jude together with the sugar bowl and the milk jug.

“You can get your own Tim,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “You know how much sugar you like best.”

“Thanks, Cindy,” Tim said, timidly.

He poured himself some coffee.

Jude took a sip, put down his cup and coughed.

“James Hargreaves is coming in a minute, Tim” he said. “I just thought I ought to warn you.”

“James Hargreaves?” asked Tim, stopping stirring some sugar into his coffee. “You mean, the head of the American Evangelical Movement?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh? What’s he coming here for?”

“The church board asked him to take charge of the case.”

“They did?”

“They felt something radical had to be done. There’s been so much stuff about it on TV. Hargreaves has a lot of respect around the country. So, they asked him to look into the case.”

“I know, I know. I have let everyone down. I just feel so awful."

"I can imagine. Tim, I can imagine. But we all make mistakes. We're none of us perfect, Don't be too hard on yourself! The main thing is we learn from them and move on, right?”

"Yes, yes, of course."

“The church wants you to undertake a programme of restoration…”

“Restoration?”

“Character restoration. As soon as you have made an effort to reform your character , then the church will welcome you back with open arms. After all, Christ told us all to be forgiving.”

Tim brightened up.

“Really? Well, I’m just overwhelmed. I don’t know how to thank you, my brothers and sisters, for having such a heart when I let you down so badly… For some reason, I was sure I was going to be punished. To be honest, I was quite frightened...”

Jude smiled.

“I was too, but I’m glad to see the church board is eager to reach out to you. We all slip up, after all. Who are we to throw the first stone? That said, the church is in a crisis, Tim. This scandal has generated a lot of bad publicity. I heard Arlen and Zack Montgomery talking about the media coverage, you know. There are a lot of people quitting our church because of what you did, a lot of emails and calls. They're saying your ministry was all a sham and a fake. They're also saying that all talk of God is a sham."

"Really?"

“That’s why the church board feels a radical programme of restoration has to be seen to be done by someone outside the church, who has legitimacy, credibility like Hargreaves…”
“Of course, of course!" cried Tim, walloped with delight. “And I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to reform my character. I feel so ashamed!”

Next, there was a ring at the front door bell.
Cindy wiped her hands on her apron, and then walked out. Her footsteps hammered in the hall. There was a click as she opened the front door. Voices.

A few moments later, James Hargreaves himself walked in followed close on his heel by Zack Montgomery, clutching a beanie cap, looking pale and tense.

Jude jumped to his feet, respectfully as Hargreaves marched in like a king.

Wearing a heavy black coat, a red scarf and wide-brimmed hat, Hargreaves stopped in the middle of the kitchen. He stared at now at Tim, now at Jude as he off his hat and then peeeled off leather gloves. Six foot three, he was built like a bull. He was in his mid sixties, but looked much older with a heavy, flehsy face. His small blue-grey grey eyes that peered out at the world with a slight arrogant but veiled expression. Thin strands of white hair were combed to one side of his forehead.

“Hi James!” Tim said, getting to his feet, and smiling in pseudo politeness. “Good to see you!”

Tim held out his hand, but Hargreaves did not take it. He eyed Tim coldly in the way a biologist might eye a strange species wriggling at the other end of his microscope.

Tim shifted uneasily.

“Do sit down, James. Bet you had a long journey?" he said, forcing himself to smile. “Have you had coffee already?”

Hargreaves didn’t reply. He pulled out a hard backed chair and sat down without even taking off his coat so that the flaps hung down, almost touching the floor. Next, he lifted his hand in a signal. Obedient , Zack stepped forward, carrying a briefcase. Hargreaves took the briefcase, placed it on his knees, opened it, rummaged around inside with his thick, white fingers, and eased out a file. He placed the file on the kitchen table and fixed his eyes on Tim, as he nervously drew up a chair opposite.

"I've been reading all about your case, Tim."

“Oh?”

Hargreaves leaned forward, so that a lamp illuminated the left side of his face while the right side simultaneously slipped into the shadows. Tim looked from the left to the right side of Hargreaves's face, from the bright to the dark side, and became confused. In as far as the left side was bathed in lamp light, Hargreaves’ expression seemed sympathetic. A soft and mild light seemed to emanate from the depths of his left eye, a blue jewel set in a white cushion, and shaded by thick eyelashes. But the right side of his face covered in shadows had a brutal, mocking and fanatical edge. In short, Hargreaves's face seemed to be made up of two very different psyches, two totally incompatible characters.

What an enigma! What a sphinx! How should he approach this man? Tim asked himself, moving uneasily in his seat. Should he beg for forgiveness? Or should he go on the offensive and try to justify himself? Tim decided that the best approach was to flatter Hargreaves. Give him the feeling -- a feeling he so obviously loved -- of being one of the elite.

Oh yes, Hargreaves was proud of his total dedication to God and of living a life of austerity. He lived in a simple four bed-roomed house that did not even have a TV set and drove a car that was more ten years old. But then again, Hargreaves was no ordinary pastor. He had served as a second lieutenant in Vietnam, and was as tough as an old boot. In his determination to understand the subtlest workings of the human soul, he had gained a PhD in psychology from Stanford University. He might be another Spanish Inquisitor, but he was a well-educated one, and with a genuine fascination for the human psyche and its many conflicts and contradictions.

"Thank you, anyway, for taking the time to drop by," Tim began, his voice timorous.

“An interesting case,” Hargreaves said and picked up a biro, and gripped it with such total ownership that Tim turned pale.

"I'm just so grateful to my brothers and sisters," Tim said quickly,"that they could find it in their hearts to be so forgiving to me. I don't deserve such mercy."

"I agree," said Hargreaves, putting down the biron with such a loud snap that Cindy and Jude jumped. “Your actions have most probably damaged many people’s trust in all representatives of God. Trust and credibility is the one thing we pastors must have."
"I know, I know! I feel so ashamed. James, I've been thinking about it, you know," Tim said, rubbing his hands thoughtfully. "I've had time to analyse it all, and I realise I need to start therapy or counselling to deal with problems that stem from…"

"I'm not interested in your excuses," Hargreaves thundered, waving his hand about dismissively. "I've read the report on your whole career, and see that you have a deep understanding of other people and their motives. I have also come to the conclusion that you have used these insights to manipulate other people instead of helping them. I believe you will continue to do so as long as you can get away with it. I see a situation where you could spend years in therapy talking about yourself and your problems – and even winning over the sympathy of the therapist – and coming out the very same person."

"Maybe. But I’m convinced therapy is the way forward for me. You see, James, I’ve spent my whole life trying to win everyone’s approval, to please everyone. I’ve always denied my own feelings and I think that’s because my father never gave me love. He was one of those men who always went to church and seemed so perfect, but at home he was a control freak and a tyrant. I have the feeling I’m only of value when I perform like a machine or something, I have always been anyious to make the grade. I’ve been in denial about my weakness and in denial about anything that didn’t fit in with the image everyone wants..."

Hargreaves made a weary gesture.

"Spending hours with psychologists mulling over the traumas of your childhood is all well and good,” he said, picking up the biro again. “But at the end of the day, the goal of every Christian is not to heal our wounded egos. It is to dissolve those egos once and for all into God's glory and bliss."

Jude coughed. Tim blinked.

"Yes, yes! I agree, James,” he said. “You’re right, as usual. So wise as always. But I still have the feeling I need some therapy to get to the bottom of why I feel the need to please everyone, crave love so much. Sometimes I ask myself why I don’t seem to have have any center at all and am ready to force myself into contortions to get other people’s recognition. I really want to get to the bottom of it once and for all. I want to work out my issues.”

"There are plenty of people've had much more terrible experiences than you, but they have overcome those traumas by their sheer strength of character. Think of Nelson Mandela. He spent years in prison, and suffered unimaginable torture and deprivations. But instead of dissolving in self-pity, he used that experience to transform his character. He went through fire and came out pure. His suffering taught him patience and compassion. His suffering gave him the desire to alleviate the pain and harship of others. He went on to become a great world leader, an inspiration to us all, on the same level as Martin Luther King and Pat Robertson.”

“Pat Robertson?”

“These are men I admire. Pat is a good friend of mine."

"I really admire them, too, James. I just wish I had the same strength of character…"

"You do have the same strength!" thundered Hargreaves. "You just have to be put in an environment where you need to develop that strength like Nelson Mandela."

"Prison, James?"

"I was thinking of a retreat in the mountains."

"Oh? A retreat, did you say?"

"Solitude is what you need. Great men are forged in seclusion, away from the noise of the world and its temptations.”

“I agree!” cried Cindy, nodding vigourously.

"You really think so?" asked Tim.

Hargreaves folded his hands together, interlacing his fingers in perfect symmetry, as he stared at Tim.

"Six months in a place such as mountains is, I believe, the minimum that a character that has grown as soft as yours needs in order to develop powers of inner resolve and strength," he said.

"Six months in the mountains? Geez! That's a long, long time,” said Tim, shaking his head.

"Not when your soul is at stake. And that is what is at stake: the salvation of your eternal soul!"

Tim forced himself to smile.
"I know but my life might also be at stake if I have to spend six months in the freezing mountains in winter on my own."

Hargreaves picked up a biro and began tapping the ballpoint on the surface with slow, deliberate movements. Tap, tap, tap. It sounded like machine gun fire!

"That's exactly the point,” Hargreaves said, smiling. “To toughen you up. The trouble with Americans of your generation is you have always had it too easy. You live in a society with shallow soap operas, superficial newspapers, crude porn films, prescription drugs, fast food. Americans nowadays are so lazy they take the SUV to drive a 100 yards. They have lost their backbone. The struggle to find God is not easy. Think about what Buddha went through! You need to be sent away from all the worldly comforts and temptations in a harsh environment so that your mind can focus clearly on the essentials. You must leave your family, your home, all the luxuries you have grown so used to, leave all your entanglements in the things of this world and learn abstinence and self denial. Six months in the mountains with nothing but the bare necessities for survival will do you the world of good. These six month will bring you respite from your lust, from your craving for sex and for drugs. In the solitude, you will be able to find peace of soul. God is merciful. But no one who doesn't make an effort can expect to receive that mercy. As soon as you make a sincere effort, the Heavenly Father will stamp his perfect image on your soul as he does on the souls of all his human children.”

Tim coughed.

“Coffee, James?” he asked, pointing at the coffee pot.

“No thanks,” Hargreaves boomed. “As I was saying, the essence of religion is an inner battle, a never-ending struggle to know our spiritual selves, to strengthen our spiritual understanding and become more like our saviour, Jesus Christ. It is all about self discipline, self control and self knowledge. Americans who have had it too good too long need to focus on developing a bit of character and integrity."

"I absolutely agree. I just think that six months is a bit extreme…"

“Don’t you understand the enormity of what you did?! Or is your repentance all just huff and puff?”

Tim forced himself to smile.

"Of course, I really regret what I did!"

"Really?" Hargreaves's eyes glinted in the cold lamp light, entangling Tim in spirals of dread.

“Seems to me, you don’t really comprehend the magnitude of what you have done! Let me repeat: You have used your position as a pastor of a church with considerable influence on your flock to accumulate money, prestige and a luxurious style of living, and opportunities for indulging your flesh instead of devoting yourself to guiding your congregation towards God by your own example of spotless morality. You have betrayed those poor innocent people who are like lost sheep, desperately looking for comfort and solace in the middle of so much violence and corruption. The US is on the verge of total collapse. There could be FEMA concentration camps, UN soldiers terrorising us. We have no leaders left. Not leaders in government and no leaders in the church. They are all in the pay of the bankers. This lapse would never have happened if your mind had been turned on God all the time, Pastor Leitner. Instead, it is clear that your thoughts were circling the fleshpots of Egypt. No wonder you found your humble service as a pastor a chore and were unable to muster more motivation. It is this egotistical search of yours for pleasure and money that has made you feel so empty inside. Nothing else. There is no need to go to a therapist to know that someone who is fixated on sex with escorts, meth and the pleasures of the flesh is bound to be miserable in the 23 hours of each day when he can't enjoy those things because of the natural limits set by his body.”

“Look, I know what you’re saying, and there’re parts I agree with, James, but…..”

Hargreaves ignored him.

“You've trapped yourself in a pattern of wrong thinking and wrong actions,” he thundered. “A vicious circle. A downward spiral. Unless you change, your whole life will end in a psychological torment that is sometimes worse even than physical death…"

"Say that again," said Tim, his eyes flashing. "I just couldn't stop myself!"

"I don't think you'll be able to stop now either. I think you'll just continue to find excuses and ways of evading responsibility like most Americans. No one in our country steps up to the plate anymore. The reformation of a character like yours that has gone so far down the wrong path needs a radical solution. "

“I know, I know. But surely you can’t mean six months in the mountains on my own? I mean thatt’s so extreme! Imagine! Six months in the mountains! In winter! Am I going to survive?”

"I believe it is important to make an example of you to your congregation by making your programme for reform harsh.”

"I don't know if I'm worthy of being made an example," Tim said, smiling humbly.
Hargreaves glanced over his shoulder at Zack.

“The decision has been made,” he growled.

On Hargreave’s hand signal, Zack Montgomery took a step forward. His eyes blazed with hatred and contempt. He placed both his hands on the table, jutting his angular chin out in a threatening way.

“I don’t think you understand, Tim,” Zack said in a low and menacing voice. “We haven’t come here to bargain with you but to rescue the Young Life Church from collapse. There’s been a haemorrhage of people leaving the church because of what you did, and we’ve had to lay off good people because our donations have fallen so steeply. We have to restore our credibility or those people will stay away. You have to be seen to be punished, and punished hard. So you’re not being asked to go into the mountains. You’re being ordered to go there for six months!”

Tim swallowed hard.

“I agree I need to be seen to be punished. It makes perfect sense to me. I’m ready for punishment. But six months in the mountains might just kill me…”

Hargreaves smiled.

"Oh! Don't look so frightened. My aim is not to hurt you. My aim is to save you, Tim. We Christians should never abandon our brothers, however sick and depraved they might be."

"Sure, but I have to be honest, I find your plan a little bizarre," Tim said, smiling with pseudo friendliness. "I think a more conventional approach of therapy really would go a long way to helping me sort out my problems, my feeling of not being loved as much as I crave, as I said. It might have something to do with my childhood, my feeling that my father never really...."

"Nothing can alter my decision," Hargreaves said and slammed the file shut.

His face appeared like a dark oval shape as he leaned back out of the lamp light.

“Six months in the mountains is nothing,” he boomed. “I spent six weeks foraging behind enemy lines when I was twenty in ‘Nam. Soldiers of God have to be as tough as soldiers in the regular army, if not more so, to deal with all the challenges and temptatious. Remember too, we have more than two million Americans right now in the army, many having to tough it out in places like Iraq and Afghanistan. Remember too. America was founded by pioneers who came out here with nothing except the bare essentials, and who not only survived but thrived and built up towns and cities.”

“Yes, but they came of their free will...”

“Sometimes we need someone from the outside to motivate us. The trouble with Americans today is that they’ve all gone so soft. Too many just sit on the sofa and consume mindless TV, watching DVDs, eating fast food that makes them overweight, popping pills. People need to get back to the basics, back to some discipline. You too, Tim, it’s time to put the man back into you! You’ve had it far too easy with your huge salary, luxury house and car. And if it was up to the church board, you’d get away with it even now. That’s why I feel obliged to take over. The whole board is corrupt as you are and cover each other’s tracks. Someone has to step in. From tomorrow, I will be officially the senior pastor in the church, and I’ll lick the church back into shape.”

“Look, I am sorry for what I did!” Tim said. “Believe me! I really regret more and more the day I ever went to see that Rob Owen! But look… I mean… I've never lived in the wilderness on my own for six days let alone six months. I could get hypothermia, pneumonia in winter. There are wolfs, bears out there. And then there's the little detail of how I'm supposed to find enough food to stay alive. My hunting skills are not A 1, you know."

Hargreaves squeezed his biro between his fingers.

"I promise you, Tim," he said, leaning forward again. "I know this is the best for you. I’m just doing this for your sake. I really do love you just like a father who loves his long lost child. Sometimes bitter medicine is the best cure. I will recommend you leave for the mountains by Friday at the latest."

"Friday? Today is Wednesday," Tim muttered.

"That's right. The day after tomorrow you should be on your way! That gives you a day to prepare. And when the six months are over, I want you to come back and give a sermon."

"A sermon?"

“About your experiences. Everyone should see for themselves the progress you have made … Let everyone in the church judge for themselves if it has been sufficient to rid you of your lust and your sin. Let the congregation decide if your repentance has gone deep enough to make you worthy to rejoin the church and your fellow Christians…"

"Look, I'm not so sure I will be able to make that much progress in just six months on my own…"

"My decision is final.”

Hargreaves said.

His chair scraped as he got to his feet. He threw one last long contemptuous look at Tim, then turned to Cindy and Jude, and made a low bow. Putting on his gloves, he marched out of the room followed by Zack Montgomery leaving Tim staring, wide-eyed and open mouthed.

Tim threw up his hands in despair.

“Is he serious about the mountains?” he asked.

“It won’t be that bad," said Jude, giving him a slap on the shoulder.

"Not that bad!”

"They want to help you, Tim. Really, they do.”

"Yeah? Like putting me under the ground is really going to help me."

"I mean, help your soul!"

"Sure, by detaching it from my body altogether!"

"Something has to be done after…your…ermm..." Jude stopped in mid sentence, overcome by embarrassment.

Tim didn’t hear him. His eyes glittered restlessly.

“Can you believe this,” he said, slapping his forehead. “Is this for real? What does Hargreaves want? To kill me? Did you see the look in his eyes? That smirk on his face? I’m sure he was smirking. That smile at his new found status as the head of the church. Now I'm out of the way, he's number one! Yes, he's just overjoyed to see me fall flat on my face. He wants to put me out in the cold. Literally," said Tim, lifting his finger to point through the window. "Out in the frigging, freezing cold Rocky mountains. Geez, I know what I did was wrong, but it doesn't deserve a death sentence! You have to be monumentally retarded to think that killing someone is going to help them become a better person."

Cindy did not reply.

Jude tried to look encouraging.

"Like he said, he wants to make an example of you to deter others from the same errors,” he said.

"Yeah, by killing me! Now that a flippin’ deterrent to sin, alright!" Tim said, jumping up from his chair.

"Personally, I think it could be a bit of an adventure. You get to see the great outdoors."

Cindy nodded.

“Absolutely,” she said. “A new vista! A new experience! Nature! Hiking! Great stuff!”

Tim glared at them.

"The great outdoors are totally overrated,” he said. “How I hate those people who go on and on about the great outdoors and how wonderful it is! What is the big shakes about hiking through a flipping forest? And heaven help you if you don't tidy up your campsite! There’re fanatics out there! As though anyone is going to notice a few cans of beers in a million square miles of forest! And then all the hullabaloo about conserving the bears and the flipping wolves. Yes, nowadays the flipping bears in the national parks get more support than the US army!"

"There are hardly any bears left in the Rocky Mountains, Tim. They're dying out."

Tim didn’t seem to hear.

"And then there's snow,” he muttered, pre occupied. “I'll get hypothermia, pneumonia. And how am I supposed to find enough food to keep me alive? I'll be turning into a sling carrying maniac, bringing down wild birds. And what about my family? I have to think about Cindy and Tim! They won't want me to go away for six months, and maybe never ever come back."

“Can I have that in writing?” muttered Cindy.

“Very funny!”

Jude brightened.

"I have an idea, Tim!" he cried. “A brilliant idea!”

"What?"

"I heard about this hermit!"

"Hermit?"

"Yeah, he lives up in the Rocky Mountains!"

"So?"

"He could look after you up there."

“Oh?”

"I heard all about this guy at Bible College. One of our professors went to visit him up in the mountains. He was doing research on a book on the Christian tradition of meditation. He said Cormac was one of the wisest and holiest men he'd ever met. I’m sure Professor Travers will tell me where he lives. You could stay with him till you learn the ropes.”

"Look, I'm not going, Jude. That's the bottom line. I have to think about Cindy too. My family needs me and I can’t just abandon them for six months,” Tim said.

“I have a better idea, “ said Cindy, putting her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you go up into the mountains for six years!”

Tim ignored her.

“Hargreaves just likes the idea of punishment, that’s it. All that talk about finding God! He just wants me to suffer."

"So do I! I really like the idea of you suffering a lot," cried Cindy, her eyes flashing.

“The whole point is a reformation of my character! Finding a way to improve it! Education not sadism is the point!”

"Sure," said Cindy, "and who's going to test that you're reformed, huh? Has anyone thought of that? Are you going to come back writing musicals and have this halo around your head? Or is this reformation going show it self in more mundane ways like you not lying to me? And not cheating on me? You could start small and work your way up to helping out with the housework. Or are you going actually go one further and actually be a caring parent who takes your son out to his baseball practices?"

She wiped her hands on her apron, eyes blazing, and walked out.

Jude coughed.

"It might be more peaceful in the mountains."

Tim forced himself to smile.

“I think that’s settled that then,” he muttered. “It looks like I’ll be off for six months to the mountains. But is this the way forward?"

"What else can you do? You've dug yourself a deep hole. Your gonna have to work hard to get out."