Within the law offices of Mesner, Reynolds and Harrogate, a team of paramedics worked to save a man’s life. The passport monitor, which was attached to EKG leads, which in turn were attached to John Harrogate lying on the floor, began to beep long and steady. The waveform flat-lined on the small screen.
One of the paramedics performed chest compressions while his partner used a portable Ambu-bag to provide oxygen. “He’s not responding,” said the man bagging John. The paramedic doing the chest compressions did not stop, but John’s condition did not change.
“He’s gone, we’ve lost him,” the second paramedic said.
The first paramedic finally ceased his chest compressions. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Just outside the door, John’s partners looked on. John had been a good lawyer. He had been one of the best trial attorneys they had ever seen.
Some of the secretaries and paralegals cried. They had worked late nights with John on important cases. If anyone deserved to live, they supposed, it was him. He had always been a good man.
At least one of John’s partners was sad about his passing. Where were they going to find someone to replace him and keep up their practices’ revenue? The other partner casually surveyed the room. This was going to make him a nice new office with a great view. He would wait a week before mentioning anything about it.
Now, despite all of his money, power, and friends—despite his being physically fit and maintaining a healthy diet—John Harrogate was dead from a massive coronary at the age of fifty-five. He had fought for life, but death had come anyway.
WHERE TO BEGIN
Daniel Harwick sat hunched over, elbows to knees, cupping his cherubic face within his hands. “This is boring,” he moaned. His best friend, William Harding, gave him a jab to the ribs.
“Sit up, Daniel,” he hissed.
Daniel rose up with all the enthusiasm of a slug and leaned toward William. “I’m dying. How long is this going to last?”
“An hour. Chapel always lasts an hour. You should listen to what the minister has to say. It can save your soul.”
Daniel rolled his eyes and pretended a little snore for William’s sake. William tried not to laugh at his friend. He was always clowning around and getting into trouble. “The trouble with you is you think you’re too smart for God, Daniel,” he whispered.
“Well, too smart to sit here when I could be doing something more fun.”
The minister’s voice resounded throughout the auditorium. “For he hath made Him to become sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.”
“How can you stand to sit through this all of the time?” Daniel groaned.
“My father is a minister, Daniel.” William’s annoyance began to show through. He didn’t find Daniel’s disrespect funny.
Daniel poked at William’s side with his finger, trying to get a giggle from the boy. But William refused to respond, holding up an open hand to Daniel, letting him know he wasn’t going to play along.
“Fine,” Daniel sulked. “Well I’m not going to hang around here all day.”
The boys sat in a modern auditorium at Ekhart Academy for Boys. Row after row of uniformed schoolboys remained at attention as the minister expounded from the Word of God. The auditorium contained theater seating in a semicircle with a wooden pulpit at the center of a raised platform located at the front. Daniel had chosen the very back of the auditorium for a good reason. He liked to goof off.
At any rate, sitting way back where the lighting was less effective granted him an advantage. When the minister focused his attention on the other side of the auditorium, as he preached his sermon, Daniel quietly ducked behind the last row of seats where he and William sat and then impolitely snuck out.
William gave Daniel a stern look of disapproval, but he wouldn’t embarrass them both by making a scene. He had hoped, ever since the two boys had become friends, to interest Daniel in the Savior. But thus far, Daniel was patently uninterested. And so, Chapel would begin with him and Daniel in mandatory attendance, but conclude with William walking out alone.