Free Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) by Creston Mapes

And God’s being patient with you, too, Eddie—”
    “Oh, I’m loving every minute of it, believe me.”
    “But you’re here, aren’t you? You’re alive. I know your world’s been shaken to the core. I know David’s gone. But you’re here with me, today—right now. Are you ready to meet Him—face-to-face?”
    Eddie charged back, squaring off with Everett. “Let me ask you a question. Is my son in hell?”
    The wind left Everett. “Eddie—”
    “You see, brother, if I believe the way you do, I lose, any way you slice it.”
    “I feel responsible for David—”
    “Nothin’ you can do about it now.”
    “I can still help you and Sheila, and Madison and Wesley.”
    “Look, Ev, I love you.” Their eyes connected. “But frankly, our family—what’s left of it—has no interest in God, at least not the one you so blindly insist on serving. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends and stay close. I want that. And I appreciate your help last night and with the money I owe. But—”
    “He’s also a God of judgment, Eddie.” Everett splashed what was left of his cold coffee onto the snow and stared down at it. “Did you ever think your family might be in the condition it’s in because you’ve made bad choices?”
    “Who do you think you are!”
    “Just someone who’s found a better way.”
    “Yeah. The only way, according to you.”
    “It’s true, Eddie. We’re each going somewhere when we die—heaven or hell. I just want you to understand that the only way to heaven—to the Father—is through the Son.”
    “Look, I told you I believe in a higher power. Can’t that be good enough for you? Geez.”
    “Not if that higher power isn’t Christ.”
    “Well it’s not, okay! You’re so narrow-minded, Everett. I’ll serve my god, my way!”
    “That is such a cop-out, Eddie. I know, because all my life I was the king of cop-outs. Who are you to make up your own god and your own truth?”
    Eddie exhaled heavily. “Thanks for the Sunday school lesson, brother.” He set his face to the wind and headed for the house. “If you need help burying Millie, let me know.”
     
    The ground out on the ridge was almost frozen. Everett and Karen had dug Millie’s grave for thirty minutes, mostly in silence.
    “Would you please let me finish this myself?” he asked.
    “I need to do it.” Karen continued digging, red-cheeked, runny-nosed, and resolute on finishing the task.
    “I can’t find the baby Jesus figure from the manger scene.” He pounced on his shovel with all his weight. “I guess they took it.”
    Karen sniffed and continued breaking up the softer dirt that he had already loosened below the hard surface.
    After several more minutes of working, Everett rested both hands on his shovel handle and looked back at the house, perhaps a half mile away. It was tiny in the distance, and something he never thought he would share with such a precious partner.
    After all, he was a renegade. He’d grown up neglected by his mother and in utter fear of his abusive father. His soul had once been a bastion of bile and transgression, pride and rebellion. Clearly, he did not deserve a woman of grace like Karen, nor was he worthy of God’s forgiveness. Yet he had them—both. And he found himself breathing thanks to God with every fiber of his unworthy being.
    Other than the slight whistle of the breeze, it was winter quiet, muffled, as if they were in their own secluded little piece of world.
    Everett stared back at the spot where he’d had the awkward conversation with Eddie. Millie was still in the trunk of the Honda. It was going to be a long walk to get her out to the ridge. Rosey lay nearby, with her pretty head between her paws on the ground in front of her, raising a dark eyebrow every now and then. It grieved Everett to think about how much she and Karen were going to miss their friend.
    “We can get another partner for Rosey if you want, honey,” Everett said. “Maybe a puppy—or an adult