LITMIR.BIZ

      The Light in the Mirror

      a novel

      David Lane

      RESOURCE Publications

      The Light in the Mirror

      Copyright © 2011 David Lane. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical publications or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publisher. Write: Permissions, Wipf and Stock Publishers, 199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3, Eugene, OR 97401.

      Resource Publications

      An Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers

      199 W. 8th Ave., Suite 3

      Eugene, OR 97401

      www.wipfandstock.com

      isbn 13: 978-1-61097-275-8

      Manufactured in the U.S.A.

      Acknowledgments

      My gratitude to Doreen Button, who went through the manuscript line by line, suggesting changes and enhancing style carefully and skillfully.

      Thanks to Carla Aydelott for her help in typing various drafts of the manuscript, with excellent attention to accuracy.

      I’m grateful to my mother, Janis K. Lane, who encouraged me and made helpful observations about the 1960s and 1970s.

      Thanks also to my father, Dr. LeRoy L. Lane, for suggestions on revising several chapters, and for giving me a loving push when I needed it.

      My brother, Jeff Lane, shared useful memories of the 1960s and 1970s and cheered me on in my writing.

      Special thanks to Detective Sergeant Terry Fitzpatric, who advised me on police procedures in investigating a crime.

      My thanks to former mayor, Jeff Miller. He provided information on mayoral candidacy and duties of a mayor.

      I’m grateful to Dr. Thomas K. Wuest, orthopedic center administrator and orthopedic surgeon, for reading chapters dealing with medical procedures and providing helpful comments.

      Thanks to Dr. George Knox for providing information on Scottish pronunciation, language, and culture, based on his travels in Scotland.

      Thanks also to Tim Aho for information on Scottish vocabulary and accent, learned while living in England.

      The following Passage inspired this story.

      For we know in part, and

      we prophesy in part; but

      when the perfect comes,

      the partial will be done away.

      When I was a child, I used

      to speak as a child, think as

      a child, reason as a child;

      when I became a man,

      I did away with childish

      things. For now we see

      in a mirror dimly, but

      then face to face; now

      I know in part, but then

      I shall know fully just as

      I also have been fully known.

      I Corinthians 13:9–12

      1

      A Near Tragedy

      “Yow!”

      Richard Hawkins let loose a yelp from the abrupt change in water temperature.

      “Uncle Mac must be working in the kitchen. Well, that woke me up. Guess I’ll forego my morning solo.”

      After showering, he toweled vigorously, put on shorts and slippers, and headed down the hall to his bedroom. He surveyed the image in his full-length mirror. Richard’s high forehead, hazel eyes, and strong jaw reflected his naturally serious attitude toward life.

      He gave his mustache a couple of strokes with the comb, then moved to the chest of drawers. Slapping a generous amount of shaving lotion on his face, he mused, “Even if I don’t look like I’ve shaved, I might as well smell like I have.”

      Downstairs, Richard found his uncle in the kitchen preparing their breakfast of Quaker Oats. Richard helped by making toast and pouring orange juice. There was little conversation. Uncle Mac had raised Richard; their relationship was as secure in silence as it was in speech.

      When Richard finished eating, he sat back, sipped his coffee, and gave his uncle an affectionate glance. Uncle Mac was busy at his morning ritual, working the daily crossword puzzle.

      “Finished in 14 minutes.” Uncle Mac’s voice conveyed his satisfaction.

      Richard responded teasingly, “Considering your years as a top librarian, a newspaper crossword puzzle is as challenging as high school algebra is for Einstein.”

      Uncle Mac chuckled, pleased with the comparison. Changing the subject, the Glasgow native said, ‘If ye don’t want Quaker Oats for dinner too, ye’ll have to go to the store and get a few things.”

      “Just a few? In that case, I’ll walk. What do we need?”

      Uncle Mac handed him a short list.

      “I’m on my way.”

      Richard liked puzzling over something when he walked. Today, as he walked the five blocks to the grocery store, he thought about how long it would take him and a friend to paint his Uncle Mac’s house.

      Now, how could I convince Uncle Mac to give the old place some color? He’ll insist on painting the house gray again. He smiled as he recalled how his uncle defended the color gray. “You see, laddie, the color matches Oregon’s climate.”

      At that moment, Richard looked up to see a squirrel, frightened by his approach, dart across his path and into the street.

      “Stupid squired!” he exclaimed, as a car came within inches of hitting the animal.

      Maybe, I could get Uncle Mac to at least change the trim from boring white. But, no, he’s stubborn like me.

      As if to prove his own stubbornness, his mind flashed back to an incident that, years later, still made him feel ashamed. Often during his teenage years, his uncle would press him to take up golf. The theme of his insistence was always the same: Golf was good exercise and it would enable him to meet people who could help him land a job some day. “No, that’s not my thing,” Richard would reply.

      He slowed his pace and kicked a pine cone off the sidewalk, reluctant to remember what happened on his sixteenth birthday. The memories intruded nevertheless.

      Uncle Mac had bought him an expensive set of clubs. Weeks went by while he stubbornly refused to try the clubs out at the local golf course. Then one day, he traded the clubs to a friend for an old pair of skis. He rationalized that he should have what he wanted on his birthday and he didn’t want golf clubs.

      When he told his uncle about the trade he realized that it hurt his feelings, but his uncle only said, “Your friend got a gude bargain.” Uncle Mac never mentioned golf again. Though Richard knew his uncle had forgiven him, he still felt guilty.

      Trying to shake off the mood his memory had created, his mind quickly turned to the task at hand as the grocery store came into view.

      The sky had gone from sunny to overcast in the time that Richard Hawkins took to finish shopping. As he stepped out of the store, he felt the early-warning drops of a spring shower. He had lived long enough in Verity, Oregon—all of his life—not to be surprised at sudden changes in the weather. The old-timers in his church had told him that 1999 would be a rainy year, and so far their prediction had been correct. Lines from Lowell’s The Vision of Sir Launfal came to mind: What is so rare as a day in June?/ Then, if ever, come perfect days.

      Ducking

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