Sometimes an excerpt matters
In reading Straight to the Heart: The Hawk Book Three, I'm astonished at how timely is the message, despite being set in autumn of 1962. Below is a section from Chapter 76, when the Cuban Missile Crisis was in full swing.
Whenhe reached the studio, stars twinkled in the sky. Eric could make out thestorage building, and turning back, the house blazed with light. Yet, he neededto set something to canvas, although he didn’t wish to work in the sunroom. Hewasn’t sure what bubbled inside him, other than a sense of purpose. Perhapsthis was how President Kennedy felt, his hands just as tied. Yet Lynne had beenright, it was too dark to work. Again gazing upwards, Eric admired the nightsky, chuckling at himself. Then he walked around the studio, standing in frontof the storage building. Something tugged at him from within, so he pulled thekey from his pocket, opened the door, then flipped on the light. There on aneasel was the portrait of Marek and Jane.
Steppinginto the small building, Eric couldn’t look away from his daughter. She wasn’tthat little now, even if he’d painted this a few months before. Before made Eric shiver, for all thathad occurred since this painting, up to that very evening. Jane was inside,probably being dressed for bed, with no idea what was happening in Washingtonand Moscow. She had no clue as to what others had suffered since, she was onlya baby. She also had no manner to discern all that had occurred to the manholding her, but for the first time, Eric had an inkling, and it made himshudder. Marek’s brown eyes glowed with an eerie knowledge, propelling Eric tostep closer to the canvas. Leaving a foot between himself and the painting,Eric peered at what he had created, but seeing far more than layers of paint.In Marek’s chocolate brown eyes, Eric saw a multitude of horrors, more than anyperson should realize.
Insteadof being repulsed, Eric traced around Marek’s eyes, sensing how such miserycould, over time, become beauty. Eric had translated something similar, yetcarrying much less emotional weight, when he painted the blue barn. Sam,Laurie, and Stanford had asked how Eric did it, and there was no verbal mannerin which to answer that question; Eric had simply picked up a brush, dabbed itonto his palette, then transferred those feelings onto canvas. He had done thesame when painting Marek and Jane, but while Jane’s eyes held only joy, Marek’spossessed a deep well of sorrow hinting to the unmitigated catastrophe thatsomehow that man had overcome. Suddenly Eric stepped back, in awe of suchtragedy having been healed. The loss of Marek’s entire family didn’t prey onthat man’s mind, or within his soul. Marek’s soul was protected by Christ.
Thelast two nights Eric and Lynne had made love, but not as they had been for thelast few weeks. Lynne had purposely used her diaphragm, telling her husband shedidn’t feel the timing was right to actively try for another baby. Her unspokenmessage had been clear and Eric hadn’t argued. The world was still a terribleplace, nothing was certain. Eric had wondered if Sam’s fears about becoming afather would be exacerbated by all that was occurring, but how could thiscompare with previous disasters in human history? If Khrushchev gave the signal,would the destruction of America’s East Coast be worse than The Holocaust inEurope? Would it be more evil than what sat plainly in Marek’s brown eyes?
Forthe first time since the president’s announcement on Monday night, Eric didn’tworry about his family’s future. Perhaps this was another step on his journeyas a Christian, or an artist, or simply as a man. If the very worst occurred,it wouldn’t be the absolute end of the world, for the worst had been recycledtime and again. In just that century, two world wars had ravaged across much ofthe globe, millions of lives lost, so much desolation accrued. But in a smalltown on the West Coast, Eric had fashioned beautiful paintings, he couldn’tdeny that. Assuming Kennedy and Khrushchev negotiated a way out of this mess,by the end of November, this painting, along with others, wouldn’t even bewhere Eric could see them; they would be in New York, then onto London, thento…. Eric smiled, the first real joy he’d felt all week. Making love with hiswife had been a balm, but actual happiness rumbled inside him, in part frompeace and from the truth within Marek’s eyes. If one day Eric heard thosefacts, they wouldn’t be any more vile than what he had implied within thatman’s gaze. Yet, anguish wasn’t the essence of what Eric had portrayed. Lovecovered all that wretchedness, so great a love that grief, loneliness, anddespair hadn’t been able to stay.
ThenEric shivered; whatever had sent Seth to Korea was a similar kind ofdevastation, yet Seth hadn’t been able to fight himself free. Eric wondered ifperhaps as a child Seth had been molested, but Seth and Laurie were so close,had that been the case, Laurie would know. Or maybe not. Then Eric consideredthe figures at Stanford and Laurie’s apartment, sculptures that had beenfashioned by someone with a tremendous will to live and love. Nothing darkclouded those statues, from their hopeful stances to their vibrant hues. Twovivid blues enhanced those figurines; Seth hadn’t made them in the throes ofdepression, but in youthful optimism. But that confidence had been short-lived.Laurie had mentioned Seth wasn’t exactly soldier material, that he’d had a fewissues even before he’d enlisted. What had he thought going to Korea wouldaccomplish, and once there, what had he seen or done that had so tarnished hissoul?
Again Eric gazed at Marek, but not at his face.This time Eric studied how tenderly Jane rested in the pastor’s grasp, almostwith as much affection as Eric held his daughter. Marek had never spoken of alover, maybe a woman had been left behind in Britain or in…. Marek had been ateenager during the war; might he have lost a girlfriend alongside his family?Eric ached to know, then he sighed, feeling chilled. He turned off the light,locked the storage building, making his slow way back to the house with as manyquestions, albeit about different subjects, than as when he had headed outside.
