Consider Job(e)

By Lewis Kelley

His family torn from him, his body, and soul broken, Damion Garner experiences hell on earth. When the devout husband is tested by the Devil with God’s permission; the modern man of faith discovers himself alone in his misery. Reviled by a once loving wife and an indifferent world, Damion has no idea what has happened to him. He knows only that like the biblical Job(e), he is at the mercy of powers beyond his control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lewis Kelley
• Release date: May 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458126016

Lewis Kelley

Lewis Kelley has lived an eclectic existence; husband, father, author, soldier, athlete, coach and firefighter have encompassed some of the stops along the way. He lives in Colorado with his wife. He is the author of the Auslander and Simeon's Promise series, as well as, Consider Job(e). Along with living life, he is hard at work on several writing projects which will be made available as they become ready.

Book preview

Prologue

One day the angels came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan the accuser also came with them. The Lord said to Satan, Where have you come from?

Satan answered the Lord, From roaming through the earth and going back and forth in it.

Then the Lord said to Satan, Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.

Does Job fear God for nothing? Satan replied.

Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land. But stretch out your hand and strike everything he has, and he will surely curse you to your face.

The Lord said to Satan, Very well then, everything he has is in your hands.

Then Satan went out from the presence of the Lord.

Chapter 1

Terror!

Drenched in perspiration and shuddering uncontrollably, the man strapped into seat Twenty-Seven-C, forced his eyes open. Nostrils flared, heart pounding, he checked the passengers surrounding him. Some slumbered; others absently flipped through magazines or stared from the plane’s ports. No one showed the faintest sign that something might be wrong. Consciously quieting his breathing, the man wiped his brow with the back of his shirtsleeve before turning to the window and staring down. Below, the intricately arranged streets of Denver, Colorado stretched out beneath him. The familiar sight soothed, but something grievous—a hauntingly bottomless sense of loss tormented his thoughts seconds before. What was it? He searched his mind trying to remember but ultimately it was to no avail. All traces of the nightmare were gone.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and began meditating on thoughts of the reunion to come with Dawn, his wife. Subconsciously, one hand traced small circles on the glass as the vision of his honey-skinned love entered his mind. Knowing she awaited him outside Denver International’s tented terminal evoked a serene smile. Victor, the thirteen-year-old, mirror-image of his father would be with her; as would Rae, the seven-year-old caretaker of her father’s heart. Calm returned to him and his eyes reopened to a crisp, blue horizon intersecting white-tipped peaks. Nothing to fear here; I’m home, he whispered.

What are you smiling at, Damion?

What’s that? Oh, Jacob, I was thinking about Dawn and the kids.

Perpetually tan, thirty-one-year-old Frenchman, Jacob Duchaud looked on in amusement, his Jet-black hair cut long but fashionable framing his smooth face. A killer, dark-emerald-green suit, black shoes with a subdued pattern embossed beneath the glossy shine, and a maroon shirt under his tailored jacket, armed him with the professional look he meticulously cultivated at all times. The Frenchman’s attire was classically understated and impeccable, but its real aim, as his partner well knew, was gaining the attention of any available female eye that might pan in his direction. Egocentric and a serial womanizer, Jacob believed principally in Jacob’s needs. Despite their differing beliefs, the two men were loyal associates. If that wasn’t enough, Damion genuinely liked the man.

I will never understand how any man restricts himself to one woman when there are so many delicious morsels to be sampled in the world…even if that woman is as lovely as your Dawn? Jacob offered the final caveat in a feeble attempt at softening his words.

Like that woman in Paris three nights ago? deadpanned Damion.

Jacob answered brusquely. How was I to know she was married?

If the wedding ring on her finger wasn’t clue enough, then me asking her pointblank while standing in front of you should have been.

Jacob shrugged. Her husband should be about his business.

Damion coughed. And what business should he have been about that would have kept his wife out of your bed?

His wife wouldn’t be in my arms if his were available. And… Jacobs’ lips curled as he struggled to keep his voice low. Save the sermons, especially the unspoken ones. We believe differently, you know that.

Jacob, you initiate these conversations. The guilt you feel comes from knowing what’s right and ignoring it.

You’re wrong…your life, your uncompromising…goodness… he leaned in closer and dropped his tone. You’re like a dagger continually digging around my insides.

Damion turned back toward the window. Good.

Chapter 2

Dawn felt a newlywed-like pang of yearning the second she glimpsed Damion walking toward her. The subtle, panther-like swagger of the man she chose to make a life with still carried the same ability to make her pulse quicken. Muscularly lean, he still embodied a trace of the ruggedness she found so alluring beneath his learned exterior. Gorgeous teeth, a slightly wide nose, full lips and, olive-smooth skin, fashioned a face that made more than one woman forget herself over the years.

Trying vainly not to appear a love-struck teen, she fought off the subconscious urge to skip as he moved closer. How was Paris, baby? she asked, wrapping strong arms around the man who so infected her before kissing his mouth.

Lonely without you, he said, returning her affection. But I did discover a clandestine spot I have in mind for us to spend some alone time at, he whispered so that only she could hear.

Situated behind the reunited couple, Jacob, despite himself, couldn’t help eyeing the beauty in his partner’s arms and fleetingly thinking that perhaps he could be satisfied with one woman. Maybe in the future...

There’s my babies, said Damion, lifting Rae into his arms and hugging Victor forcibly. Excited as they usually were to see their father, his children waited outside the car along with their mother.

Daddy, I am not a little baby, Rae insisted.

"Honey, no matter how big or how old you get in this life, you will always be my baby."

Rae giggled and melted into her father’s arms despite her claim of adulthood. Ultra-cool as a novice teenager, Victor would never admit it but his father’s touch made him feel like the same content little boy who had once spent hours wrestling with his dad.

Jacob, can we offer you a ride? Dawn asked.

No thank you, Mrs. Garner. I have my BMW parked in one of the lots.

It’s Dawn, Jacob…and in that case, we won’t keep you, she said, arching an eyebrow.

Damion cut in. I’ll meet you at the office in the morning and we’ll get the new acquisitions over to Mr. Harreldson. I think he’ll be pleased with what we were able to ship back.

Damion, you have a way of understating facts, Harreldson is going to, how do you Americans say…flip, when he sees what you talked those two old crows in Poitiers into selling. By the way, your French is becoming almost fair… at least for an American," Jacob remarked as he walked toward the exit, smirking.

Chapter 3

Traffic along Peña Boulevard, leading from the airport, was pleasantly sparse. Damion sneaked a look in the rearview mirror at his son and daughter. He was able to read in their expressions that both anticipated the ritualistic stop for breakfast, the unofficial family declaration that dad was home.

Guiding the olive-toned Minivan westward onto I-70, the returned traveler reached a hand toward his wife. I missed you, he whispered, looking into the piercing, hazel eyes that sustained him.

All those pretty French girls and you missed me? She responded playfully.

Wasn’t them that tormented my dreams at night.

Dawn hit his arm. Damion, she hissed quietly. Your children are in the car.

He glanced again in the rearview mirror to see Victor acting as if he hadn’t heard, but the subdued grin on the teen’s face betrayed him.

Minutes later, the van exited onto Quebec Street and drove south. When they reached the area where Denver’s old Stapleton International airport used to sit and was now a sprawling development of homes, schools, and shopping, Damion turned in and proceeded to the IHOP. Breakfast allowed the family to continue their reunion over a meal and then the family made the short drive west along Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard toward their home. Turning onto Eudora Street, Damion exhaled. Even with his wife and children meeting him at the airport he never really felt like he was home until he pulled into his driveway and saw the house he and Dawn worked so tirelessly at restoring. It wasn’t much to look at when they first bought it, with the roof sagging, the interior a jumble of ugly and uglier wood paneling, and the now exquisite hardwood floors covered over by every putrid shade of shag carpet the psychedelic decade of the nineteen-seventies’ was able to conjure.

Despite that inauspicious beginning, the two were optimistic they would make something special of the house God blessed them with, and they had. The three years of scraping, painting, repairing seemingly everything, and stripping age-old layers of wallpaper, nearly drove them insane, but they made it by focusing on one small area of the house at a time.

Park Hill, an eclectic neighborhood on the northeast edge of the city, encompassing a blend of all races and socioeconomic backgrounds, was where they wanted to live, so they stayed the course. Now, they were the proud owners of a home that dazzled. The two beautiful children that brought it alive were heaven’s added bonus.

How was your presentation baby? Damion asked, realizing that he forgot to ask about his wife’s biggest assignment to date.

Dawn smirked. "Too late, Mr. considerate, just unload your bags from the car; we’ll talk about it later. He swallowed. Not a good start for a man away from home for two weeks and hoping his wife was in a loving mood.

The warm feeling of dad coming home never faded. Laughter and countless stories filled the time while they ate and caught up. Despite being jetlagged, Damion patiently listened while Rae attempted to tell him, second by second, everything that occurred in his absence. He was also sure to build up Victor as he relayed his latest exploits playing ball with the guys. Most important was the concerted though patient effort to draw out his wife on the happenings at work and home.

With her exquisite sense of timing, Dawn eventually came to his rescue by telling the children that daddy was tired, and they could talk more in the morning. That explanation was justifiably, partially true.

Upstairs, after putting Rae to bed for the third and final time, Dawn shed her housecoat while relishing the pleading look on her husband’s face. Beneath the intentionally frumpy garment she donned in front of the children, she wore a sheer plum-colored nightgown that tantalizingly clung to every tempting curve with which her maker skillfully knit her together. I suppose you think this diamond bracelet is going to win my affection? She said, eyeing the gift bestowed upon her moments before.

Damion pursed his lips. I was hoping so, and if not then I hope these will do the trick? He held flowers. Brought from Paris in a suitcase, they somehow still looked surprisingly fresh.

Despite the fun of teasing her husband, Dawn melted. Stepping toward him, her yielding, full lips met his. Okay, Mr. International, the kids are in bed. It’s time for you to find out what you leave behind every time you go away on one of your little trips.

I was hoping you would say that…and Dawn, believe me, I know exactly what I’m missing every second that I’m away.

Chapter 4

To find a wife is a good thing. Damion meditated on that thought the next morning as he walked the hallway toward his children’s rooms, his playful voice announcing his approach. Get up, sleepy heads, time to give God his due. Only the wicked neglect to thank their heavenly father for all that He does in their favor.

Both children heard their father’s booming words disturb their slumber and immediately broke into contented smiles. Still, they would play their practiced roles dutifully.

Daddy, it’s early, can we go to the late service? Rae pleaded.

Come on dad, you just got home. Can’t we spend the day with you? Victor whined from his adjacent room. Both anticipated what was coming next.

Bounding into Rae’s room as if he were furious, Damion swept her up, covers and all, and carried her over his shoulder into Victor’s space. Depositing her atop her brother’s prone body, he launched into a sermon with the fervor of a Pentecostal minister gone rabid. Soon he had both children laughing hysterically as he gyrated and pitched his voice ever higher. Reaching the summit of his impromptu sermon, he leapt atop the bed and pointed stiff, accusatory fingers in their direction. Far be it from the children of Damion to deny God through their slothfulness. Get thee dressed whilst I prepare a meal fit for kings and queens. Only hurry lest thy rebellion vex not only me but the Lord of Hosts himself!

Victor looked first at his wide-eyed and puffed-up father and then his sister before speaking. Our father is returned to us…and surely he be mad.

The Pastor was in rare form this Sunday. Preaching with an animated earnestness, he reminded Rae and Victor of the show their father had put on for their benefit earlier that morning. Only his act took place in front of a silent congregation. He also spoke of things that seven-year-olds, even thirteen-year-olds, didn’t fully comprehend; despite the fact that righteousness and sin were words, both heard their mother and father using frequently. Apparently, they lived in a world that didn’t know what they meant either.

It wasn’t until they were driving home after mingling with the other saints, that Dawn remembered something. Oh, Damion I forgot to tell you, mom wanted us to come by after church. She has some things that need moving …I sort of volunteered you. You know Dad’s not feeling well and… Damion rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. Come by, baby? Sixty plus miles to Colorado Springs isn’t exactly around the corner. He hesitated letting her think and then he winked and made the turn toward the highway.

You owe me, he said.

I believe I might be able to think of a way to pay you back, she said, drawing close. You’ll have to wait until we get home though, she whispered.

I can do that, he said, I can definitely do that.

Chapter 5

One hour later, Damion turned off Austin Bluffs into a driveway and stopped. Dawn’s mother was out of the house before the van emptied, carrying something wrapped in cloth. Damion approached his mother-in-law and kissed her cheek. Ma’am, would that be peach cobbler you have wrapped under that towel? His voice was expectant.

If you’re here to move some things for me it might be, otherwise it’s just a pile of dirty rags that need laundering.

Emma, that’s blackmail, Damion said stepping back in mock astonishment.

Maybe… Or you could call it leverage.

Damion pretended to be thinking heavily. What did you need moved?

Emma lifted the towel and allowed the aroma of peaches to waft into her son-in-law’s face. Come inside, I have another pie to check on in the oven. I’ll show you what I need done; it shouldn’t take more than an hour.

Two and a half hours later, Damion finally sat down to his pie. His clothes, minus the jacket and tie, smelled of the muskiness present only in seldom-used attics and basements.

Across the kitchen, gathered in a corner, Emma and her coconspirator, Dawn, stole glances while giggling mischievously. Both knew how much junk there was stored in the two spaces, Emma from having collected it over the past thirty years, and Dawn simply because she was her mother’s daughter.

Damion scowled, not because he was angry but because it was his role in the drama. Sighing aggressively, he gouged a large portion out of the pie and shoveled it into his mouth. Victor and Rae were in the room, as was his father-in-law, Reggie, or Sonny as everyone called him. Damion stood abruptly and turned toward the women. Three quick steps brought him in front of them, where he stopped and glared. Shifting his eyes from side to side, he fixed them both in a stare and blew air through his nostrils noisily. There was a brief interlude with no one moving and then he leapt forward to take Emma in his arms. I love you. That’s the best cobbler I’ve ever tasted…I mean it’s right up there with Dawn’s. He corrected himself before his wife was able to cut her eyes at him.

Good save, Damion, she said smiling. Now eat your pie so we can get home, or did you forget we have a date?

Emma stared. You two have a date on Sunday night? Don’t you have work in the morning?

A voice interrupted. It was Sonny. Emma, has it been that long? Don’t you know what kind of date their talking about?

Understanding came with a rush of embarrassment. Oh, I’ll wrap the rest of that pie to go for you, she said, hustling toward a cabinet.

Thank you, Emma, I would very much appreciate that, Damion said.

Rae’s voice interrupted, Big people talk in riddles…I don’t understand. Four adult voices answered in unison.

Good.

Chapter 6

Honey, are you picking Rae up from school? Damion shut off the faucet in the bathroom sink. What baby? I couldn’t hear you with the water on.

I asked about Rae—are you picking her up from school?

He came into the room with Dawn. Sure, we have to go get the art work and deliver it to Mr. Harreldson. After that, I’m free for the day.

Good, I may have to work late this evening so we can revamp a few things on a presentation.

Damion looked hard at Dawn but held his tongue.

I know that look, Damion. I have it under control.

She brought it up, that meant it was okay to voice his opinion. Honey, you’ve been carrying Katelin for two years…are you working late again because she didn’t fulfill her part of another advertising project?

Dawn’s silence was answer enough.

Baby… Damion measured his words. He wanted to tell his wife that it was not fair for her to be doing the work of two. Instead, he pulled her to him and kissed her. I’ll say a prayer for Ms. Katelin and for you. By the way, you smell delectable. An idea hit him. Why don’t you invite her over for dinner tonight? Bring your project home and I’ll cook you something delicious. If you have to work late you might as well be comfortable. You can use the office downstairs where no one will bother you.

Dawn was speechless. She thought she was going to get a lecture. Instead, Damion offered to make dinner for her and a coworker who was single, confused, and a constant source of angst for both of them. She shook her head.

What, honey? Damion asked in puzzlement.

It’s you…God broke the mold when he made you. Sometimes, I wonder if you’re too good to be true.

Honey…it’s only dinner; besides it’s me that’s blessed. He kissed her again. I’ll see you tonight.

Chapter 7

Rae loved the Tempest, especially with the top down. When her father told her he was going to drive it today, she became giddy in the way that only seven-year-old girls can. She ate so fast that she spilled milk down her shirt. A quick change remedied the wardrobe malfunction, and then she was racing to the car bellowing for her father to speed up.

Breakfast was a forgotten memory now as she listened to the sound of the engine while running her fingers over the glossy, black interior. Drive faster, Daddy. She begged.

Honey, I have to obey the law, Damion said, laughing.

Oh Daddy, do something wrong for once, she implored.

Damion cocked an eye toward his daughter. You’ve been listening to your mother. Impulsively, he checked the rearview mirror, dropped the transmission into neutral, and goosed the accelerator.

The engine screamed and Rae let out a whoop. Do it again!

I can’t little-bit, we’re here, and people are staring.

Rae looked up to see that they were in front of her school. A couple of parents were still looking in the direction of the car. Are you going to pick me up in the Tempest after school?

I certainly am.

Good, you can make the engine go fast again then. She hugged her father’s neck. Bye, daddy.

Bye, missy, have a good day.

I will, and daddy.

Yes…

No speeding in the car.

Damion laughed. Thank you for the reminder. He watched the little angel he’d been given walk toward the building and then pause to wave at the front door. That moment in time struck him as it does all parents at one time or another and he felt a brief wave of emotion. God truly blessed him with more than any man could ask for.

Chapter 8

Jacob was late. Damion checked his watch again. When he looked up, he saw his partner’s metallic-silver BMW M3 turning into the parking lot near Colfax and Josephine. A flicker of red hair from the passenger seat broadcast the fact that he wasn’t alone. Driving toward his partner, Jacob flashed white teeth in a juvenile attempt at mocking his partner’s pristine existence.

Damion made it a point to appear indifferent.

Stopping beside the Pontiac, Jacob revved the engine before exiting. Sorry I’m late, I was umm…detained.

Damion nodded hello to the redhead who had climbed out of the beautifully sculpted M3 and now stood ogling the Tempest. Tall and gorgeous, her skin was flushed in appearance. A sixty-seven Tempest, she said with obvious awe. And it’s red, my favorite color.

Both men regarded her with surprise. You know cars? they asked in unison.

Among other things, she said, stepping toward Damion seductively.

Before the stunned recipient of the come on could respond, Jacob interrupted. Mandy, take the car, I’ll meet you later. Damion won’t mind driving me home? he said, looking toward his partner.

Sure, not a problem.

Damion watched as his colleague half pushed the redhead into the BMW before seeing her off with an almost hostile kiss. A few moments later, he, and Jacob were driving along University toward Cherry Hills. I don’t know why it makes me so angry.

What, Damion said, knowing that any response would bring more of Jacob’s self-absorption.

Mandy…her flirting, she does it constantly. I think she enjoys making me jealous.

Damion tried not to choke on the notorious womanizer’s hypocritical words.

Would you? Jacob blurted.

Damion crooked his head sideways. Would I what, Jacob?

Don’t play the innocent. The girl…Mandy, would you make love to her? You saw her; she’s beautiful…and willing.

The two men had been in this moment too many times to count. Jacob, my Dawn is more beautiful and I happen to be married to, and in love with her.

Yes, I know, and you are the returned prodigal son who will sin no more.

Damion laughed. Jacob my loyalty to my wife bothers you a great deal, doesn’t it?

The Frenchman wanted to curse. He didn’t like people getting under his skin, especially a man who did so only with his silent righteousness. He would never admit it but he’d begun to feel guilt at his promiscuous life style. Every time he bedded a new woman, there was Damion in his head when all he wanted was to be his usual lewd self. It was starting to make him a bit crazy.

Forget I said anything. I don’t know why I ask, said Jacob, peering toward the tips of the Rocky Mountains to the west. Did you retrieve everything?

No problems with the transport, said Damion. I went by UPS after I dropped my daughter off. Everything arrived undamaged.

Jacob again said something impulsive. Do you think a car like this would help me pick up girls?

Damion mashed the accelerator so the noise of the engine increased and pretended not to hear.

Chapter 9

Mr. Harreldson came from old money, which he used to make a great deal more, new money. Along with numerous other business interests, he developed an inexhaustible appetite for artwork. Secreted within his expansive home, protected by the latest in security, resided as extensive a collection of rare artifacts as any private citizen owned in the world. Damion and Jacob worked for a man who employed not one but two individuals for the express purpose of scouring the world in search of items of art, well known and otherwise, which he might purchase.

Bring it inside. A giddy James Harreldson had nearly run outside to meet his employees in the driveway. His face exhibited a look normally reserved for children receiving new toys.

Damion met his eccentric employer at the history museum in downtown Denver several years earlier. He’d sensed someone watching as he gave a tour to disadvantaged youth. That someone was the man he now followed into his home. James Harreldson startled him by asking to be included in the group as they made their way through the museum. Damion thought it odd but agreed. Little did he know that as he spoke about the artwork and the history behind it, the newcomer to the group was taking mental notes. When the tour ended, the man slipped him a card and asked him to call him.

When he made that call after a few days of mulling it over and speaking to his wife about it, he was stunned to find himself being grilled about his background and why he knew so much about art. When he responded that his mother nurtured an interest in art in him from childhood and that he minored in the subject in college, the offer of a job leapt out of the phone at him. Impulsively, he had said yes, though he couldn’t say why to this day. When he hung up, he went straight to his computer and did a search on the corporation’s name printed on the business card. What he found astonished him. Mr. Harreldson—his new boss—possessed interests in more enterprises than seemed possible. The man was a billionaire at minimum several times over. Damion forgot the memory and brought his mind back to the present.

It was Damion that talked them into selling it. His French has become…palatable. Jacob joked. Harreldson ignored the taunt while continuing to stare in awe.

I’ve sought this piece for nearly thirty years…I thought it lost forever, the billionaire whispered.

Mr. Harreldson how did you know my countrymen would allow it to leave the country? Jacob asked.

The peculiar connoisseur never lifted his adoring gaze from the painting. Easy, Mr. Duchaud, it has no value to the French government, it isn’t considered a masterpiece in any eyes but my own. He looked toward his employee. This piece was painted by one of my ancestors over four-hundred years ago. The story of its travels would make a book in itself. Along the way it has passed through some quite famous hands.

Mr. Harreldson, I helped you find it but I don’t even know its proper name, Damion said.

Harreldson flipped the picture toward Damion. What would you call it?

Damion shifted his eyes toward the work of art and took in its vivid colors and pastoral scene. Meadow in Early Morning.

Harreldson grinned like a proud father. That, Damion Garner, is why you are paid so well.

The doorbell rang just as the smile on Jacob’s face faded.

I’d almost forgotten—your new partner’s here, Harreldson said, hurrying to the door.

Both men mouthed the same line. New partner?

The door swung open and in walked a creature that instantly sent Jacob into near convulsions. Carmelita Estevez stood a statuesque five foot ten inches. Rich, black, curly hair cascaded down her taut back while simultaneously framing a face too lovely to belong to a living, breathing woman. Her skin was so luscious a bronze it appeared edible.

Jacob hummed as he walked forward to greet her. I am Jacob Duchaud.

Carmelita extended a hand formally. Pleased to meet you, Jacob; my name is Carmelita Estevez.