Part 5: Jeff

Wally Bonner liked to eat Sunday dinner at 5:00 P.M. That way, he could nap in the afternoon and still have time after dinner to read or visit with company. Except this Sunday there was no company expected. While the name was never mentioned in the house anymore, Wally’s thoughts were with Jeff. Where was Jeff spending his Sunday? Is he ok? Why won’t he call and let them know that he was doing fine?

"Why aren’t you napping," Mildred asked.

"Don’t know. Just can’t sleep. Don’t feel much like napping."

"Kind of quiet, isn’t it?"

"Yeah."

At a little past four, the doorbell rang. Wally got up from his overstuffed chair where he had been reading the Tribune. He walked into the hall with its magnificent, grand staircase and went to the massive oak front door. He tugged the door and it swung on its hinges without a squeak.

"Jeff!"

"Hi, Dad. May I come in?"

"Of course. Of course." Wally’s eyes moistened and he took Jeff’s arm and walked him into the hall.

"Dad, I’m so sorry..."

"You don’t have to say a word, Son. I’m just so glad you came home."

"But I am sorry."

"I know. We can talk about that later."

Mildred was coming through the dinning room from the kitchen calling, "Wally, who was at the door, Honey. Oh, my..." She spotted her only son. "You’re hurt!"

"I’m ok, Mom. Just a little incident in the city. Look, I was wrong. I’m sorry. I want to come home."

"Oh, Jeff, I’ve missed you so." She hugged him, then pulled back, wiped at her eyes with the dish towel in her hand, sniffed the air and said: "Look at you! You’re a mess! Let’s get you out of those smelly rags and into a hot shower. Your things are still in your room."

Jeff laughed. "Ok, Mom." As he pulled the jacket off, a tiny, folded dollar fell to the floor. Wally picked it up.

"What’s this?"

"Somebody gave it to me. It’s my last dollar. In fact, I want you to have it, Dad. I don’t have anything except the rags I’m wearing and that crumpled up dollar. Mom’s already staked a claim to my rags."

"Just long enough to get them into the trash can, young man," Mildred interrupted.

"Will you take it as a present? It’s all I’ve got, Dad."

"You’ve got more than you’ll ever know, son. And yes, I will accept your gift. Thanks. It looks vaguely familiar somehow."

"He’ll keep it always, won’t you, dear?" Mildred asked.

"I don’t think so, Mildred. Somehow, I think this dollar was meant to be passed on to someone else."

"Good old Dad. Knowing your soft heart still held a spot for me kept me going this past year when things got out of hand in my life. One other thing kept me going, too."

"What other thing, son?" Mildred asked.

"Well, I really didn’t know for the longest time what it was, Mom. Just a feeling, I suppose. But on the way home today, I heard this little voice and everything fell into place: Despite everything, God still loves you."

The End