Whence Cometh My Help
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Whence Cometh My Help - The Sequel to Into The Night by Darryl A Perkins is a gripping romantic drama with a religious twist - spliced with Perkins’ comedic wit. It’s been five years since Dr. Caroline Glenn’s untimely death by a hired assassin. Follow the saga of her husband and soul mate - noted raptor biologist Dr. Darryl Glenn as he struggles to put his life back together. Trying to pick up the pieces after the lost of his wife, he is slow to forget the past and move forward. Coming to the aid of a good friend, Dr Glenn gets embroiled in a bitter land/water dispute in southwest Kansas.
He must deal with corrupt politicians, shady town officials as well as a powerful North Carolina tyrant! His Help Cometh From the Lord! His New Love and Inspiration Cometh From WSSU!
“It was always the same - a picture perfect Yellowstone day with just enough of a breeze to keep the skeeters at bay. The pristine pool against the backdrop of the waterfall is sky blue and the surface looks glass-like without a single ripple in sight. Lying patiently with his eyes fixed intently on the water, Lamar, the McKenzie Valley wolf and undisputed leader of the Druids, is the picture of power and confidence.
A small ripple appears on the water and like a mermaid rising from the depths, a head pops above the surface. Flashing the brilliant smile that has mesmerized me for over thirty years, Caroline steps from the pool with water dripping from her nude body. As always I wait with a towel in my outstretched arms, ready to embrace her in a bear hug and kiss those luscious lips. Even after thirty years of marriage and two children, seeing her like this always gets my blood boiling.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, as I wrapped her in the towel. “We’ve got work to do.”
Ignoring her fake protest, I swivel her around, drop the towel, and just before I lean over to give her a kiss…I wake up. I realize that instead of embracing my wife in Yellowstone National Park, I am alone in our bed in Rural Hall, North Carolina. Where I was happy and content just seconds ago, once again I’m sad and lonely. It has been five years since the love of my life was taken from me by an assassins’ bullet and I’m still heartbroken.
This dream always leaves me feeling empty and void, but there are others that are far worse. The absolute worst is when I relive the nightmare of her death. Slowly coming to grips with reality, I sit up in bed trying to blink back the tears to no avail. I look up at the ceiling and say, “I do lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help, but Lord, this doesn’t seem to be getting any better.”
“Do you know that I love you?” the voice said on the other end of the phone.
“Do you know I love you more?” was my reply. This is how it always is when Jon and I speak. We got that from our grand-parents. We always start and end our conversations with love. Our grandma said, “If you start with love and end with love, the hard times, foolishness, and nonsense in the middle won’t matter.”
Many an evening I’ve heard her say, “Glenn, do you know that I love you?” He would always smile and say, “Do you know I love you more?” More often than not, she would go on to tell him how he was the most stubborn, pig-headed fool of a man in the world and how she would have been better off marrying Charlie Wilson. She would rant about how he was too old to go off hunting by himself, or complain about the amount of time he spent in the woods and how little he spent in church. Sometimes she would tell him she’s apt to be gone one of these days if he ain’t careful. This would always make him chuckle. Then he would say, “Woman, you been climbing in and out of my bed for 54 years and I spec you’d climb in right now if I’d let you.”
Boy this would set her off. She’d be going crazy talking about his filthy mouth and how dare he talk dirty in front of the children. She’d go on to say how men folk were all alike with only one thing on their minds even, as she looked at grandpa, when they were old and senile.
Grandpa would stop whatever he was doing and whisper to me and Jon, “Watch and learn boys.” Then he’d walk over to where grandma was doing her fussing and place his arms around her. She’d always struggle a little and pretend to be mad. She would act as if she wanted nothing to do with him, but you could tell it wasn’t real. He’d hold her for a minute and then say, “Do you know that I love you young lady?” And with her resistance fading fast, she’d always say, “Yes, you old fool.”
This would be grandpa’s queue to say, “You boys go out and feed the hogs and chickens and don’t come back till its suppertime.”
We would reply in unison, “But we ain’t got no hogs or chickens grandpa!”
He’d laugh and say, “Then go find some hogs and chickens to feed. Me and your grandma’s got some making up to do.”
Grandma would hit him on the shoulder and say, “Glenn!”, but not once did she stop us from going out to find some chickens and hogs to feed.
That’s the way it would be with me and Caroline. Even in our later years I would be feisty and she would pretend she was offended. We would live out our lives in blissful harmony and depart this world together in a loving embrace like the main characters in our favorite movie, The Notebook. That dream and my reason for living were all taken away on that fateful night when Caroline was shot dead and I barely survived an attempt on my life. Survive is the term used to describe someone who has endured a near fatal occurrence and lived to tell the tale. I would place it no higher than exist since that’s exactly what I’m doing. I merely exist. Simply going through the motions because it’s all I can do.
Anyways, that’s the way it was with me and Jon. Even when we disagreed, we always started and ended each conversation with I love you.
“So where are you?” I asked.
“In Greensboro,” was his reply.
“And why are you in Greensboro?” I said, even as I started to get suspicious.
“The girls called and asked if I’d meet them at your place,” he said.
“And where exactly were you when they called?”
“In Denmark,” he said.
“I had just finished an assignment and needed some R&R so when they called, I said it was perfect timing and headed back to God’s country. And before you place me on the witness stand, I don’t know why they wanted me to meet them here. I didn’t ask. It didn’t matter. Those are my nieces,” he joked. “And if Caroline hadn’t been blind, I would be their father instead of you.”
Except for Jon, the mere mention of Caroline’s name would usually send me into a state of utter despair.
“You wish.” I said and laughed.
Then on a serious note he said, “Still having the dreams?”
“Yep, and I don’t want to hear about shrinks, vacation, or moving on.”
“You do know you’re stupid, don’t you?” Jon said.
“You know you’re the most stubborn, pig-headed, moron on the planet don’t you?”
“Will you talk to someone if I go with you? What if I sit in on the session and try to help? I love you and it kills me to see you like this five years down the road. It’s not healthy big bro. It’s time to move on,” Jon said, and I could feel the concern in his voice.
“No, I won’t talk to any shrink. No, it doesn’t matter that you would go with me. Yes, I know you love me. Moving on would mean moving away from Caroline and I’m just not ready to do that yet. Do you know I love you more?”
“I do,” Jon said, and hung up the phone.
“There was no time to tarry. No doubt about it, this was the five year intervention for sure. Except this time, instead of Grandma and Grandpa, the girls would lead the attack with Jon as backup.
OK. No way am I going to be a jerk about this. I know my baby girls have my best interest at heart and if all it takes to put their sweet little minds at ease is for me to agree to speak to a therapist, then I need to soldier up and prepare to listen to Dr Phil like googley-gook from some Ph.D. who has spent half their life in pursuit of a degree, with little or no life experience to back it up.
I had to laugh at this one. Now would be time when Caroline would remind me that not only did the mother of my children and love of my life have a Ph.D., but I could hear her saying it just as plain as day; “but so do you, you big dummy!”
My chuckle soon subsided when I realized that I no longer had her to put me back on the straight and narrow when I fell off the path.
So the game plan was, I would listen to what my daughters had to say, reluctantly agree there was a need for me to talk to someone, and then fix them some short ribs and mac-and-cheese. As long as I don’t commit to any specific dates then I should be okay. Actually, the thought of snookering the girls brought a smile to my face. Let the intervention begin!