As Amos Goldstein stepped out onto the wooden stairs leading to the front sidewalk of his tenement building, he nearly lost his footing. The early morning dew had left behind a slippery glaze over the accumulated leaves of the late New England Fall. No one bothered to remove any of the fallen leaves from the stairs. Appearances were not of top priority in this neighborhood.
Amos cursed and grumbled, as was his custom, whenever even the smallest events of life seemed to turn against him.
Amos’ disposition and outlook on life hadn’t always been so bleak.
In years past, he had been a very successful businessman and a respected member of an affluent community in another section of the city. The personal and professional rejection that he received following an unforeseen tragedy, however, etched an expression of guilt on his face. His evident mood of withdrawal clearly revealed the unspoken disinterest he developed towards life itself. The pain and disappointment in his eyes were barely concealed.
Mutual avoidance was best that he could offer society, he thought, as he kept his pain to himself until something would set him off allowing him to unload his pent up feelings on someone or something.
It was just a few years earlier that Amos was the proprietor of his own accounting firm. He was a brilliant certified public accountant who took a personal interest in the welfare of those who entrusted their financial futures to him. Amos’ clients were not only business associates; he believed them to be his friends as well.
Being totally devoted to his work, it wasn’t uncommon for Amos to bring unfinished work home with him to complete, often working into the late hours of the night in his luxurious apartment indicative of his financial prosperity that he enjoyed at the time.
It was on such a night that he was totally engrossed in the development of a client’s portfolio that events leading to a life-changing tragedy would take place. He was smoking his favorite pipe as he labored, when he discovered he had run out of the source of his other favorite addiction, coffee! Nicotine and caffeine were the only vices in life that he had that he was aware of. Since he lived alone, he did not see what harm either one could do to anyone else.
Concern over the effects of second hand smoke that his pipe smoking that he enjoyed may have on others, he refrained from smoking and did not permit others to smoke while at work at the firm, long before such issues were a matter of law.
In fact, other than when he was home alone in the apartment, he didn’t smoke at all out of the same consideration for others. His middle initial was “O” for Oliver, but it might just as well have stood for “others”, as helping others was his focus in life until the unforeseen tragedy left him in a state of isolation and aloofness.
While out getting his coffee in an all night shop that fateful night, there was a sound of police and fire sirens in the not too far off distance, but no one bothered to look out to see what was going on, as such things were commonplace in the busy metropolis, even late into the night.
After picking up his coffee and walking a couple of blocks back in the direction of his apartment, Amos saw a glow in the night sky, silhouetting the outline of the buildings nearby.
The closer he got to his apartment house, the greater his private fear became a reality. His apartment building was ablaze and his section appeared to be totally engulfed in flames!
A policeman was on the corner nearest to the apartment house was not letting anyone any closer to the fire. It was pretty obvious that the fire was going to take several hours to extinguish and that the building may be totally destroyed.
In the interim period, more and more pieces of fire apparatus came to the scene as well as ambulances and rescue squads that were traveling back and forth transporting the fire victims to nearby hospitals.
Amos mingled with the crowd of onlookers waiting to hear some word on what was going to happen to he and the others who were now in need of immediate shelter.
In less than an hour, representatives from the Red Cross were on scene and made arrangements to transport the displaced residents of the apartment house to a make shift shelter for the night in a nearby elementary school gymnasium.
Nothing fancy, just clean blankets and army carts to sleep on, hot soup, cocoa, and sandwiches. Critical-incident debriefing for emergency responders and spiritual counseling were made available to anyone desiring it via local clergymen and police/fire chaplains who also came to the shelter.
Among the clergymen present was Pastor Jeffrey Nelson, a local pastor-teacher of a non-denominational church located in another section of the city often referred to as the “other side of the tracks”. In reality, it was not a set of railroad tracks, but the Madison River that geographically and socio-economically divided the residents of Garrison.
The shelter was a far cry from the luxurious apartment that Amos was accustomed to, but he was thankful, at least for the moment, that he had gone to the coffee shop when he did.
At the age of 73, Amos Goldstein believed that he had seen all the horror that evil was capable of inflicting on humanity. He and his brother, James, were the only family members of eight persons to survive a Nazi concentration and extermination camp during World War Two. This was more than a half of century ago, but forever will remain fresh in the minds of those who endured the cruelty experienced there.
Surely, he thought, the events of this night would prove to be no more than a mere inconvenience in comparison.
Within a couple of days, mostly everyone who had been forced out by the fire was relocated somewhere, most with family and friends.
Fortunately for the majority of those who had been taken to the area hospitals suffered only minor injuries and were treated and released that night.
The fire, however, did claim the lives of three young Anderson children, whose charred bodies were not located until the little of what remained of the structure was searched with specially trained dogs.
The fears of Charles and Dorothy Anderson, regarding the fate of their children who had not been accounted for since the night of the fire, came true a few days later when DNA tests confirmed the identity of the deceased children. Although the Andersons knew all along that there was no other logical explanation for the disappearance of the children, the finality of the news was still hard for them to accept.
Up until this point, Charles and Dorothy had been able to hold the sense of at bay, hoping and praying for some kind of miracle, but the death of their children could no longer be denied.
“I can understand if God wanted to punish us for putting that night’s business deal ahead of the safety of our children,” conceded Dorothy, “ but why did He have to allow our children to suffer such an awful death?”
“I will never forgive God or myself, as long as I live,” responded Charles bitterly.
* * *
Amos had gone to live with his brother James and his sister-in-law Rachael, until more permanent arrangements could be made.
James was a clever criminal defense attorney. He had established a reputation for successfully taking on cases that no one else would handle. James had a unique talent of taking the facts presented by the prosecuting attorney and re-interpreting the same facts in favor of his clients. James knew that it was not always what can be proven, but what a jury could be dissuaded from believing that could result in a “not guilty” finding of a very guilty defendant.
It was not until weeks following the fire that the official report regarding the “probable cause” of the fire was determined and made publicly known.
A news flash interrupted the regular broadcasting on the television to announce that the cause of fire was believed to be the result of the deceased children, smoking in the apartment building. The bodily positions and their location in the burnt rubble indicated that they had been huddled together in a confined area, possibly a closet, at the time of their deaths. They had more than likely been overcome by the smoke and unconscious prior to their bodies being burned.
As the news flash continued, the newscaster was taken off the screen and was replaced with a still photo of a partly charred smoking pipe that had also been found by investigators. The pipe was unusual in that it had been uniquely hand carved and apparently expensive. In light of the conclusions made by the investigators as to the probable cause of the blaze, they conceded that they were at somewhat of a loss to completely explain how it was the pipe that the children were not believed to have been smoking, was not found in the immediate area of the children’s bodies, but theorized that the force of the water had likely inadvertently displaced it during the fire-fighting operations.
The final segment of the news flash was at the temporary residence of Emily Emerson, Dorothy Anderson’s other sister. Charles and Dorothy had been staying there since the night of the fire.
Agnes had gone to Emily’s apartment as well after she was treated and released for smoke inhalation and was kept overnight at the hospital for observation. She had been rescued from her own apartment by firefighters in an unconscious condition, but was revived once outside and then taken to the hospital by ambulance. Agnes has no recollection of the night of the fire at all. She could offer no information of relief to Charles or Dorothy, as to what the children had been doing or what time they may have gone to bed. She suggested that perhaps the children awoke after the fire broke out, and feeling trapped, got together and hid in the large, walk-in closet, where their bodies were discovered.
Agnes, Charles, and Dorothy were shocked to discover that the new media had learned of there present whereabouts.
The shocked and understandably distraught parents did come to the door, but declined to make any public statements to the more aggressive reporters accosting Emily and them with their microphones and the bright lights of the portable camera equipment. They concluded the new flash with a “live” presentation of their unsuccessful attempts to gat a statement from the Andersons. Once off the air, they promptly packed up their gear and left the area.
Inside, Emily looked at her sisters and Charles, but was speechless. She had no idea what to say or do. It would appear that the Andersons would not only have to bear the load of their own perceived responsibility, but the culpability of their deceased children as well!
* * *
But Amos now knew the awful truth. It was his pipe that had been displayed on the television screen and it was he that must have left it burning in his apartment when we went out for his late night coffee!
James thought that his brother Amos had suffered a stroke. He was unresponsive, sweating profusely, tears streaming down his face, with a fixed gaze staring at the television screen, even though James had turned the set off in an attempt to get Amos’ attention. James had not seen that look on Amos’ face since the night they were arrested by the Nazi storm troopers when the family’s hiding place had been discovered.
Amos finally responded to James’ numerous attempts to get Amos’ attention, by slowly turning his head towards his brother and announced, “I am responsible for the deaths of those children!”
“What in the world are you talking about?” asked James.
“The pipe…. the pipe that was on the news flash just now…it’s mine! I must left it burning in my apartment the night of the fire. The children…. the ones on the news…. they lived in the apartment next door. Their parents are business people and are often out late at night. The kids are home alone, but the mother’s sister, Agnes, lives in the apartment just down the hall if they needed anything while the parents were out.
With his head down looking at the floor, Amos continued, “They are…. or were, very responsible children and would have never smoked in the apartment, especially knowing that their parents could be home at any time or that Agnes could just stop over, unannounced, as she often did.
Lifting his head slowly and looking up at James once again with a horrified expression on his face, Amos asked, “Oh James, what am I to do?”
James didn’t know if he should answer Amos’ questions as his brother or as his attorney.
As an attorney, James knew that there was no evidence, at least at the time being, that the pipe belonged to Amos. Even if that somehow could be established, Amos could simply state that the pipe was his, but he had not seen it for several weeks and that he had been unaware of its whereabouts. It could be even suggested, in keeping with the official theory, that perhaps one of the children had found it on grounds and were waiting for the opportunity to try it out.
In any event, James knew that from an attorney’s point of view, nothing was to be gained by Amos coming forward and identifying himself as owner of the pipe.
As an attorney, James was also aware of the possibility of Amos being held criminally responsible, not to mention the civil liability, or what it might mean for the future of Amos’ business and his standing in the community if Amos was ultimately blamed for the fire and deaths of the children.
But as Amos’ brother, James knew that Amos would have no part in any attempt to deflect the responsibility of the fire onto anyone, especially the three young innocent victims.
James knew that Amos was the type of man who had to speak up, if for no other reason, to relieve the minds and consciences of the deceased children’s parents who would otherwise spend the rest of their lives blaming themselves for having left the children home alone the night of the fire.
Regardless of the consequences, Amos was the type of man who believed there was never a time not to do the right thing.
* * *
With his brother James at his side, Amos arranged for a news conference to take place after he had given his statement to the investigators. He was certain that both the officials and the community would acknowledge that there had been no criminal intent on his part and that the deaths of the young children were no more than a horrible and regrettable accident.
Amos proved to be half right. The facts were presented to a Grand Jury who acquitted Amos of all criminal accountability. There would be no criminal prosecution.
Public opinion was not as kind. Like a roller coaster ride that climbs to the top of the first hill very slowly, then descends downwards with tremendous speed with twists and turns, public opinion turned very quickly against Amos following his acquittal.
Former clients privately expressed their personal condolences for Amos, but explained that it was in the “best interests” of their businesses to disassociate with Amos and his firm.
Just before the official closing of the firm, “swastikas” and anti-Semitic slogans, never before directed to Amos in this neighborhood were frequently found in the morning carved on the front doors or spray-painted across the windows of the firm.
It was not long before Amos’ business neighbors were pressuring him to relocate his business, as he was drawing negative attention to their area.
Amos didn’t close down because of the hate crimes of vandalism or pressure from his business neighbors. He closed down because he no longer had enough clients to pay the bills and was sinking deeper and deeper into the red ink every day he stayed in operation.
His decision to pull up stakes and take the losses came to late to do him or his business any financial good. With the loss of the firm, Amos’ personal assets were lost as well as they had been used as collateral for establishing his firm.
His business neighbors got they wish, but it would be a bankrupted Amos and not a business, that would be forced to relocate, and move to the other side of the Madison River in keeping with his new found socio-economic status.
James pleaded with Amos to remain with him at his home until Amos was able to re-establish himself, but Amos would not have James endure any longer the adversity that he had brought to himself and his brother.
James reminded Amos that they had endured much worse together, but Amos would not be dissuaded.
Amos found himself on public assistance programs, but at least the State Unemployment Bureau was able secure him a position as an accounting clerk and return him to a self-sustaining individual once again.
His Macomber Street tenement apartment across the river was a far cry from the luxurious apartment he once enjoyed, but it offered a sense of anonymity that Amos came to cherish.
Within a few months, Amos Goldstein became just another nameless face in the midst of a mass of a hurting humanity.
* * *
The public bus stop was along Macomber Street. Amos would board every workday for transportation across the Madison River Bridge to his job downtown. The bus stop was within walking distance of his fourth floor tenement apartment.
Not making eye contact or engaging in meaningful conversation was normal behavior for his new neighborhood, which for him, helped to live down his past. On this side of the “tracks”, everyone has a past so no one asks too many questions.
* * *
Following the daily routine of a workday, Amos now headed west along the sidewalk of Macomber Street to the public bus stop. Along the way, he would stop at a local diner, order his usual bagel with a black coffee to go.
Hopefully, the coffee would help clear his groggy head from beer and wine he drank the night before in order to fall asleep. Amos was hardly aware that he had exchanged the vice of nicotine for vice of alcohol. Like his former habit, he only consumed the alcohol in the privacy of his own apartment. He knew that he could never find pleasure in the sweet aroma of burning pipe tobacco again.
It has now been four years since the fateful night of the fire. The only positive thing that has happened since then, other than he being able to obtain employment, was the brief interaction and socialization that he came to share with some if the regular commuters on the morning bus.
* * *
Not too far away, Maggy, one of the daily commuters, was getting her usual fill of her morning oatmeal and verbal abuse. In her third floor, not so clean apartment, the fifteen year old had become use to the sarcastic morning greetings she would likely receive from her hung over, single Mom, Susan, who was about as interested in caring for Maggy as she was in cleaning the apartment.
Maggy was the product of a one-night stand almost sixteen years ago, following a few drinks Susan had with a man who was careful enough to never to reveal his real name or to show his face in the neighborhood afterwards. The midnight lover already had gotten all he had been looking for from Susan and responsibility was not a word in his personal dictionary.
Soon after Maggie was born, Susan was thrown out of her parents home and supported herself with Welfare checks ever since. The only reason she maintained a permanent address was to maintain her eligibility for public assistance. With her chosen lifestyle, finding a warm bed would not be much of problem, but what was to become of the “kid”? Her choice of neighborhoods reflected her lack of real concern for either she or Maggie.
Susan never pretended to possess any love for Maggy. As far as Susan was concerned, Maggy was fortunate enough to have been carried to full term. Susan, as much as told her so, repeatedly.
Susan never physically abused Maggy, but frequently beat her with her tongue. The emotional wounds would hardly be healed when they would be opened up and salted.
In spite of the love she was never shown at home and the less than desirable environment in which she lived, Maggy always displayed a fixed smile on her young face that would melt the heart of anyone who would take the time to notice.
Susan never took Maggie to church. Susan, other that to include His name in a phrase of profanity which was very much a part of Susan’s vocabulary, never spoke of God or things of God.
Maggy learned to tune out the negative remarks of her mother. This was her only defense mechanism and it was not 100% effective. Susan’s abusive tongue had slowly, but surely destroyed Maggy’s feelings of self-worth.
After a few years of experimenting with alcohol, drugs, and sex throughout most of her Junior High School years, Maggy was becoming street wise and hardened, but bored as well. The thrill from the alcohol and drugs was gone and no one got all that excited or surprised to see Maggy “wasted”, as her chosen circle of friends at the time would call it. As far as the sex was concerned, it was the only time she was ever hugged or caressed.
Susan’s main “contribution” during that period of time consisted of putting Maggy on “the pill”. The last thing that Susan would want to deal with is another unwanted child in her home! Until Maggy turned 18, Susan knew that she would be “stuck” raising “it”, if one came along. Occasionally, Susan would search Maggy’s room for alcohol or drugs, hoping to find some so that she could make use of it herself.
Maggie was soon involved with every kind of sexual behavior that a willing partner, male or female, wanted to experiment with.
Her street “wisdom” did teach her the importance of safe sex practices to avoid sexually transmitted diseases, and the “equipment” was readily available at the nearest Family Counseling center with no questions asked.
One day, Maggy was surfing the Net on the free computer Internet access that recently became available at the school’s library.
She had gone there hoping to view some of the “porn” sites that many of the kids in school with computers at home were talking about.
Maggy was unaware that school policy had placed a block on such sites on the computers at school and that school officials were monitoring the system, detecting anyone’s attempts to access such sites.
Keeping current on any additions to school rules and regulations was not at the top of Maggy’s “things to do” list to say the least. Maggy was caught and immediately sent to the office of the Dean of Students for disciplinary action.
This was Maggy’s third offense for misconduct in a rather short period of time for this school year. She was not only facing the possibility of long term detention and suspension, but possible expulsion for the rest of the school year.
An education was not at the top of Maggy’s things to do list either, but neither was spending any additional time at home with Susan. Her private, but occasional thoughts of suicide may prove to be her only option left if she was to be subjected to any more of Susan that she already had to deal with.
Alice Martin, Dean of Students, gave Maggy her final and last chance to get her act together. Alice Martin was one of a dwindling list of adults who held out much hope for Maggy. Most agreed that you couldn’t help anyone who is determined to self-destruct. Little did Alice Martin realize, she might have very well been used by God to prevent a premature end to Maggy’s life.
Maggy was placed on probationary status. If she was as much as late for a single class, she was to be expelled. One of the conditions of her probation was for Maggy to perform 160 hrs. of community service at the alcohol and drug-free teen center downtown.
It was at the teen center where Maggy was first introduced to Pastor Jeffrey Nelson, and more importantly to the Gospel Message.
Initially, Maggy had a real hard time grasping the idea that the only sin that could cause anyone to go to Hell is the sin of total and final rejection of the Person and Works of the Lord Jesus Christ. It seemed equally incredulous to her that by simply believing in Him and what He did on the cross, that she was guaranteed forgiveness and eternal life in Heaven no matter what else did or didn’t materialize in the rest of her post salvation spiritual life.
Of what little she knew of Christianity, she had never heard it explained this way before. Just as many who claimed to His followers would have noting to do with such as “sinner” as she, Maggy figured He had given up on her a long time ago as well.
Over a relatively short period of time, Maggy was one who learned what the Bible meant when it says that if you stick with the Word of God, then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
She didn’t need anyone to teach her that this was not a license to sin, or that all sin had its consequences and invited the discipline from the Lord. Her real life experiences had taught her that lesson well enough.
In the weeks that followed, she became a devoted student of the Word of God. In the years that followed, she had her fair share of setbacks, sin, and failures, but was slowly but surely developing and applying what Pastor Nelson called the mind or thinking of the Lord Jesus Christ to the daily events of her life.
By the time Maggie entered her sophomore year at Garrison High School, she had earned the nickname Sister Maggie Magdalene, a frequent reminder of her promiscuous and lascivious lifestyle that by now had been completely forsaken and her peer’s way of teasing her about her outspoken personal relationship she now claimed to have with the Lord Jesus Christ.
She often stopped by the teen center and chatted with Pastor Jeffrey Nelson. She was hoping to go out on the foreign mission fields after graduation, if she could find an organization to help her with the finances. Pastor Nelson always encouraged as well as counseled her regarding spiritual issues.
He assured her that God would always provide everything she would ever need to do His will, but that we are not always aware of exactly where, when, or how we will be used by God. That was His choice, not ours.
* * *
As she did every school day, Maggy started out walking along Macomber Street to take the public bus from Macomber Street, to the Garrison High School that was located downtown, across the Madison River Bridge. As she walked along, this late Fall morning, Maggy thought of her Junior High School days and wondered if she would have even survived if she had continued down the rebellious road of self destruction she had chosen for herself just a few years earlier.
* * *
At the loading dock of the United Stock Company, Steve Gallagher had just backed his eighteen-wheeler up to Bay 7. The dispatcher advised him it would take about a half an hour before the folk lift operators would be able to unload his trailer and then reload it again with the outgoing cargo. Steve, usually an easy-going and sociable type of guy, waived to acknowledge that he heard the dispatcher, but then returned to his cab as the truck was being unloaded.
Tom Boauer, the dispatcher, continued on with his work on the loading dock, but would occasionally glance over at the large mirrors on Steve’s cab, that allowed him to see Steve as he sat there behind the wheel.
A few minutes passed when Tom could see that Steve was apparently engaged in a very heated argument with someone on his cell phone. Tom, a long time acquaintance of Steve, walked over, tapped on window of the driver’s door and asked Steve if there was anything he could do to help.
“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” Steve roared at Tom. At this, Steve jumped out of the cab and stormed over to the coffee and doughnut across the street without looking back.
Tom returned to the dock shaking his head and asking himself why he had bothered to get involved.
Within twenty minutes, Steve’s cargo was loaded and he was “good to go”. Without saying a word to Tom, Steven signed the receipt for the cargo and promptly returned to the cab. Within less than a minute, Steve’s truck was making time down Broadway, heading to the Madison River Bridge.
One of the dockworkers that also took note of the excessive speed of Steve’s truck, commented to Tom, “Now there goes a guy who’s on a mission!”
* * *
Steve had just received word that he was to be laid off at the end of the day. Already in financial trouble, he was breaking the news to his wife, Ellen, when he and she got into the heated argument that Tom observed earlier.
Ellen was quick to remind Steve that he had a secure position at her father’s trucking firm, but that Steve had to go out on his own to prove that he didn’t need help from Ellen’s family to support his wife. This was the last thing that Steve needed to hear, but it would prove to be the last thing that Ellen would ever be able to say to him! Steve slammed the cell phone down so hard on the dashboard that it broke into several pieces, rendering it totally useless.
* * *
James Jones, better known as Jumping Jimmy, was captain of the varsity football team. He was an exceptional student and an even better athlete. His enthusiasm was hardly contained, thus earning his nickname for his antics on the sidelines as well as on the field.
College scouts had already made the rounds, both observing him play and trying to establish a relationship with him in the hopes that Jumping Jimmy would accept a scholarship that he would sure to be offered soon by numerous and competing colleges.
Arthur Jones, James’ father, and James’ self-appointed agent and manager, had great wealth and the usual influence that went along with it. James would try to downplay his family’s wealth and influence.
As with most teenagers seeking their personal identity, he wanted to be accepted for himself, and not what his father could do for him. He wanted to be known as James Jones, not the son of Arthur Jones. Arthur Jones, although “successful”, made it clear to everyone who knew him that he believed that there wasn’t anything or anyone who couldn’t be bought if the price was right.
Among the little things that James Jones would do was to have the family chauffeur drive him past the High School and drop him off early in the morning, across the river and along Macomber Street. From there he would walk to the bus stop in order to ride the public bus to school just for the opportunity to be like everyone else and to some degree, just to express a little independence from his well-intending, but overbearing father.
James assured the chauffeur that if anything happened, that he would accept full responsibility for the daily deception of having Arthur believe that he had taken James to school. It was just a part of daily Arthur Jones Show that James wanted no part in.
* * *
Bus 2846 left the terminal right on time with Shirley Whitmore behind the wheel. Shirley was a “survivor” to say the least. She survived two tours of duty in the Medical Corps in Viet Nam. She survived financial devastation when he her husband failed to come home one night and it was later learned that he had left town with all of their savings. Her husband was eventually located, but not before he had gone through all of their money and ran up a considerable debt as well. Shirley and Dave did not divorce, but from that time on, Shirley became and remained the primary bread winner for the family as Dave spent much time in and out of the Veteran’s Hospital, suffering from post traumatic stress associated with his time spent as a prisoner of war in North Viet Nam.
Six years ago, Shirley was diagnosed with breast cancer, but continuing on with her survivor history, following surgery and chemotherapy, she is now in her third year of remission and back on the job as a bus driver for the Public Transportation System in Garrison.
* * *
Being the creatures of habit that human beings are, Amos, Maggy and James always sat in the same seats on Shirley’s bus. Each one was picked up as the bus made its daily morning trip down Macomber Street. It took about 15 minutes each morning for the trip, during which time the group seated directly behind Shirley engaged in what appeared to be small talk, each one having differing degrees of input, depending on the subject matter of the day, as the bus turned off Macomber St, crossed over the Madison River Bridge, and then to the various stops along Broadway. Sometimes total strangers would join the group as well, each one being given an equal opportunity to express his or her views on the topic of the day.
Maggy was not the type of Christian who went around beating people over the head with an oversized Bible, nor was she one who offered unsolicited spiritual advice or input. At the same time, she never missed an opportunity to weave Biblical principles into just about any subject that was up for discussion.
However, when asked, she would let loose with “both barrels” and didn’t pull any punches when it came to taking a stand on a matter of spirituality regardless of the audience or the reaction she would inevitably receive.
Maggy never took the reactions of others personally. She saw it as her obligation as a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ to present the information to others when circumstances afforded her the opportunity to do so, but what they chose to do with it was between them and the Lord, not between them and she.
In truth, more Biblical Doctrine was presented to the group and to those observers on the bus in one week than most of them would hear in a year coming from the pulpits of many of the local churches.
Amos always exited first at 1329 Broadway in the area of his job. Maggy and James exited next at the stop nearest the Garrison High School. “Jumping Jimmy” and “Maggy Magdalene” would then part ways until the next school morning’s group session aboard Bus 2846.
* * *
This late fall morning day started out much like any other day. The “group” had all boarded Bus 2846 with Shirley at the wheel. They were in a deep discussion on the subject of eternal security when the bus reached the top of the uphill climb and was about to level off and begin its downhill glide to the other side of the Madison River Bridge.
Steve’s eighteen-wheeler was approaching from the other side, heading away from the downtown area. Steve was still fuming over the argument he had with Ellen. He had ended the conversation by smashing the cell phone, but kept the fight going on in his mind, loudly venting his feelings as if Ellen were there, sitting beside him in the cab of the truck.
In a moment of intense anger and frustration, Steve grabbed his extra large and very hot coffee from the cup holder on the arm of the door. Before realizing just how hard he had squeezed the Styrofoam cup, he spilled scalding hot coffee all over himself. As he looked down to see what he had done, the truck crossed the center- lines and crashed head on into Bus 2846 crossing the bridge from the opposite direction!
The combined speed and weight of the bus and truck resulted in extensive damage to both the cab of the truck and the front of the bus, immediately taking the lives of Steve and Shirley.
The truck “jack-knifed” and became wedged across both lanes of bridge. The force of the impact caused the rear end of the bus to elevate and turn with more than half of the bus momentarily dangling over the side of the Madison River Bridge, rocking back and forth like a see-saw.
A few seconds later, the bus slid backwards off the bridge and plunged into the raging water of the Madison River below.
As the bus slowly began to sink, its conscious occupants tried to escape the soon to be floating coffin via the windows as the front door area had been totally crushed and sealed in the collision and the force of water was not allowing the side door to be forced open.
Nearly everyone was in total panic as the bus, filling with water, began to drift along and well as sink, following the strong current of the river. Maggy was first heard to be praying, and then offering what may proved to be the last chance for many present to respond to the Gospel Message and be born again. As was her way, she did not ask anyone if they had believed or not, that was between them and the Lord.
The bus was nearly full of water with its conscious occupants struggling to keep their heads above water when it reached the first series of water falls along the river’s path. For some unknown and unexplainable reason, the bus had not run aground on the either the shore or the riverbed below.
The first waterfall was about a 30ft. drop, which proved to be a blessing in disguise for many who would survive the crash. The rear of the bus went over the waterfall first, causing the bus to strike the riverbed below leaving its front end sticking up in the air as the center of the undercarriage rested on the top of the waterfall. The speed and force of the water flow was much less in this area than it was when it flowed under the Madison River Bridge.
This provided the rescuers who had responded to numerous 911 cell phone calls with a window of opportunity to get the occupants out of the bus before it moved again. The vertical position of the bus also allowed some of the water that had been inside to flow out of the bus’ windows, creating about a 10’ section of the bus with an air pocket for those who could reach it to breath.
Several of the occupants were able to climb to this area for oxygen and to await their rescue. Some had recovered enough strength to go back down into the water and pull a few more bodies to the surface. It was not possible for them to determine which bodies were alive and who had drowned, as the muddy water inside provided little visibility in the dark water.
A rescue boat with climbers and divers reached the bus and were able to remove all of the bodies to shore. CPR was performed on any body not breathing and all were taken to the nearby hospitals. The only confirmed dead persons on scene was Shirley and Steve whose bodies were taken to the State Morgue for autopsies.
In addition to Shirley, Maggy, Amos, and James, there were 3 other passengers aboard Bus 2846 at the time of the crash.
Amos and James were treated for exposure and released from the hospital following a day of observation
Two of the three other passengers, a high school student named Phillip and an 88-year old grandmother were pronounced dead on arrival, with drowning listed as the probable cause of death.
Maggy and the remaining passenger, a seven year old boy named Tom, remained in critical care, unconscious and in comas. The doctors reported that both had sustained severe brain damage due to oxygen deprivation as neither one had made it to the oxygen at the top of the bus. Maggie and Tom were found and removed by the divers of the rescue team.
Pastor Nelson arrived at the hospital and offered spiritual comfort and practical help to Susan, the family members who had lost their grandmother, the parents of Tom.
Most of those he ministered to seemed to be in a state of shock, with Susan being the only one to verbally respond to the consoling efforts of Pastor Nelson.
“What do you think you’re going to be able to do that your God couldn’t or wouldn’t do already?” Susan asked in her usual sarcastic way. “Where was your God when my daughter was suffering?” she continued.
Pastor Nelson, known for his unusual ability to refrain from answering back, looked straight into Susan’s eyes and responded, “He was in the same place that He was when His Son suffered and died in order to fulfill His will and the calling on His life.”
The words came out so fast that even Pastor Nelson didn’t consider his own insensitivity towards Susan in light of the situation. He felt embarrassed and immediately apologized to her; not for the truth of what he had said, but for the lack of sensitivity and self control that he was so well known for.
Susan responded with a “Yeah, right.” and then walked away, searching her large pocketbook for her flask as she headed for the nearest woman’s rest room.
There, Susan could get the alcohol induced “relief” she had become so used to and get away from the “sermon of the day” at the same time.
It was not the pastor’s words that was really bothering Susan. Maggie spoke about God and the things of God often to her. The pastor’s words only reminded Susan of how she verbally battered and bruised Maggie in return.
Over the next two days, both Tom and Maggie came in and out of consciousness, with Tom passing away early on the third day.
Maggy was in a quiet, private room, at the expense of Amos who told the hospital personnel that his identity as the provider for all of Maggy’s medical expenses, was not to be made known. He wanted to do this for the girl who had done so much for him in the spiritual realm, but he feared that if the media caught wind of it, he would be falsely accused of having done this in an attempt to restore his standing in the community. The story of fire, and all the grief it generated, would be certain to be resurrected.
Maggy continued to come and go in and out of a state of consciousness. She was unaware of the prayer vigil that had been organized by the high school students just down the hall in the hospital’s chapel. As the size of the crowd increased, it was necessary to relocate them in one of the public conference rooms. All were convinced that surely God would answer their prayers and restore the health of “Maggy Magdalene”.
Her life-support system and monitors did not indicate any substantial change in her condition.
As word of the prayer vigil spread through the City of Garrison, individuals and groups came to hospital to pray for Maggy and to share with each other how she had touched their lives with her words and example.
Most of the high school kids regretted that they never shared their true feeling with her for fear of how they would be treated by the other kids.
In other corner of the same room where the prayer vigil was being held, Amos was sharing how the wisdom spoken by Maggy in her own way each morning on the bus was penetrating the pain of his past and bringing comfort to him, but like the kids from the school, he never shared this with Maggy.
When Amos became aware that the young woman, weeping alone, was Ellen Gallagher, he went over to console her.
As they talked, Ellen told him how she and Steve had argued minutes before the accident and that she could not bear the guilt feelings she now had. Amos then told her of his own experience regarding guilt and how Maggy taught him that the hardest person to forgive is one self.
“It matters not,” Amos continued, “if the guilt is real or imagined.”
“Jumping Jimmy” joined the conversation and told Amos and Ellen how Maggy’s focus on life had changed so much since her younger days and wished that his father could have heard her speak just once. Perhaps he would have had less confidence in what only money could by.
Their mutual concerns for having never expressed their gratitude to Maggy were not warranted. Maggy would have been the first one to make it clear that she was only the messenger and that all the credit and glory belonged to God.
Pastor Jeffrey Nelson entered the room with a look of both sadness and joy and announced that Maggy had gone home a few minutes ago.
A few of the highs school kids clapped and cheered, misinterpreting what Pastor Nelson meant by ”gone home”, understanding him to mean that she had recovered and was being sent home to Macomber Street.
Pastor Nelson apologized for the misunderstanding and then explained that Maggy had gone to be with the Lord.
“Before she left us,” Nelson continued, “Maggy regained consciousness for just a few minutes …for the last time. She said that she didn’t want to die if God had more work for her to do, but that she was prepared and glad to be going home to be with the Lord, if that was His will.”
Nelson swallowed hard, as he fought back the final words that Maggy had relayed to him. There was not a dry eye in the room.
”She thought”, Nelson continued, “ that God was calling her to the foreign mission fields…. but that she never realized until her final minutes…. that the Mission field she was called to was on the morning run of Bus 2846.. the streets of Garrison….and the halls of Garrison High School”.
Pastor Nelson then located Susan who had been sitting alone down the hall, refusing to “watch Maggy die”, as she put it. She did ask Pastor Nelson to let her know “when it was all over with”.
Pastor Nelson broke the news of Maggy’s passing to her, and then shared with her what he had not shared with the prayer vigil group.
“In her hands was a locket with a picture of you, Susan, inside.” said Nelson.
“I never knew that such a locket existed,” admitted Susan. “I thought that, down deep, Maggy must have hated me. I certainly gave her every reason to….” said Susan, as her voice trailed off.
“You were her mother,” he continued, “and nothing could ever change that.”
Following a few seconds of silence between them, Pastor Nelson relayed to Susan what he had shared with no one else.
“She was tightly grasping the locket with your picture inside and was in silent prayer with the Lord. She produced her heart-melting smile and had a far away look in her eyes. She released the tight grip on the locket, but continued to hold onto it. Then she said aloud, “Thank you, Father”, and with these words, she died.”
“The End”
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