Justin Davis, page 42
Seeing Justin hesitate, Hunter Clay rushed to his feet and grabbed his wife with his good hand. They ran past Justin, across the front yard to their jeep. Justin let them go. He must find Devī. If he indulged his hate and killed the Clays, Devī might die, and he would ruin his own life. This was another test from Kṛṣṇa. Justin must act as a servant of good, not as a master moved by hate.
Justin watched them for a moment, to make sure they actually left and didn’t fire at him again with the weapons in the jeep. Barbara jumped into the driver’s seat and made the engine roar. As she turned the jeep around, Hunter screamed at Justin, “You’ll pay for this. I will destroy you. I will destroy your family. You’re all dead, like your father.”
Justin wavered. If he did not kill Hunter Clay, Justin’s family might die. With his left hand, Hunter tried to grab a shotgun standing up on the back seat. Barbara cried out to him, “You’re bleeding. You must get back down for medical treatment. We will kill them later.”
Barbara gunned the motor and rushed to the snow-covered dirt road that led back to Clay Campus. If Justin shot out their tires, they might fight him to the death. He and Devī might die. What did Kṛṣṇa want? While he pondered, the Clays made their escape.
The jeep roared down the steep, twisting road. Seconds later, at the first frozen hairpin turn, the armored jeep flew off the unfenced road and with a few awful bounces on the mountainside, hurtled three thousand feet down to the valley floor, exploding into a fireball. Hunter and Barbara Clay were dead.
Justin had no time to be shocked. He flew into the house, frantic to find Devī. She was not downstairs. Taking three stairs at a time, he rushed up to her room. The door was locked. With wild energy, he kicked it open. There sat Devī, lifeless in a yoga posture, hands resting in her lap, eyes closed, hair spread over her shoulders. She looked as she did in life but unmoving, tears frozen on her cheeks.
Staggered and heartbroken at the sight, Justin grasped the evil plan at once. Finding Devī sad and unresisting, the Clays locked her in her room and stood vile vigil as she froze to death. Had he not come, they would have then broken in and claimed they discovered her dead, an obvious victim of suicide.
With a last hope, he gingerly took her icy hand in his. He had never touched her before. Pressing her wrist, he found a very faint pulse. Devī was alive!
CHAPTER 48
Justin flew to the bed, tore off the quilt, and wrapped it around Devī. He gently picked her up, carried her downstairs, and laid her carefully on a couch, which he then pulled next to the fire. Devī was still unconscious, her pulse still barely detectable. He rested her head on soft pillows, and furiously fed and roused the fire till it blazed with life-giving heat. He rushed to the downstairs bedroom and brought more blankets to cover Devī. With alarm, he saw that her body was too weak to shiver, a sign of severe hypothermia. With despair, he saw that she had been eating little and would have little strength to recover.
Covering himself with blankets, lest he succumb to the cold, he lit candles, placed a chair by her couch, and kept scrupulous vigil as his own body warmed. He begged her silently to stay in this world. He swore he would be more serious about serious things, if only she would stay.
As the storm grew savage, pounding the house, Devī’s breathing grew steady and stronger. But she did not wake. Dear God! Had her brain suffered irreparable damage, making it a curse, not a blessing, to keep her in this world?
Whenever the wild wind paused to mount another fury, he heard the fire licking and chewing with relish the dry forest wood. Justin kept his fearful vigil, gazing at Devī’s angelic face, remembering with deep feeling what his father said about her, remembering that even Scarlet saw her as divine. How their roles had reversed! Once Devī saved him as he lay drowning in a river. Now his duty was to do all he could to revive her.
As he gazed at her celestial features in the dancing light of the fire, a truth burst upon him, a truth to which he had long been blind—almost from the moment they met in Bhū-loka, Devī had deeply cared about him. He had mistaken her reserve for indifference, or even antipathy. Justin had failed to go beneath the surface of a profound and complex soul. Devī had always declared her indifference to the world, yet she always cared deeply about its welfare. He now began to see that a soul could be detached from all the selfish gratification the world offered, yet still be devoted to the world’s highest good.
From the beginning, Devī had seen Justin as he really was—an eternal soul attached to a mortal body, and eager to enjoy a fleeting outer identity. It was to this false self that Devī had shown indifference, even scorn. Yet her actions proved she always cared deeply about his true self, the person he really was, and would always be.
With painful remorse, he now acknowledged that Devī had consistently reached out to him. But he could not value it, because unlike his other acquaintances, she would not gratify his vanity. She could never accept a relationship based on selfish indulgence, and ignorance of the true self. Justin had taken this as rejection. But it was he who proudly, arrogantly rejected what Devī had always offered him—a relationship between two real persons, between two souls.
Her earnest interest in his spiritual well-being had been a true sign of friendship. She must have hoped he would earn her love by working to discover his true self and hers. She even offered to stay in a world she regarded as barbaric and mad, if he would only stay with her, in mind and spirit. Was that not love?
Justin could not recall a single time that Devī did anything unjust or unreasonable. For all her outward reserve, at times bordering on incivility, she always sought his real interest. Whatever affection she might feel for him, he knew her to be far too shy to ever express it.
With a heart full of regret and self-reproach, Justin felt her pulse. It was still weak. The wind whipped the windowpanes, and shook the old walls. The fire sputtered, calling for attention. Justin stoked and fed the flames, and returned to Devī. In soft candlelight, and flashes of fire, he watched her and prayed that wisdom had not come to him too late.
Justin kept close watch till fatigue overcame him. He then spread a blanket on the floor by the fire and tried to sleep. A burning log crashed onto another and woke him. But the riotous storm swallowed the noise in its whistling commotion, and he was able to rest, waking often to check the fire and verify that Devī was alive and as warm and comfortable as possible. As she slept, her blankets faintly rose and fell with her breath.
After several hours of alternating sleep, nursing, and fire-tending, Justin awoke to painful hunger. He had hardly eaten that day and was now too hungry to sleep. Stocking the fire with fuel, he ran to the kitchen and prepared a simple vegetable soup for himself and Devī. Justin feared she might never wake to taste it. He could not chase these morbid fears from his mind. The unflagging storm howled about, slamming the shutters.
After eating a little and leaving most for Devī, he went to check on her. A wonderful, happy sight greeted him. Devī sat on the couch, blankets pulled up to her chin, fully conscious, carefully watching him. Her eyes shone in the dim light.
Seeing him, she tried to smile, and her lips silently said, “Thank you.”
“Thank God!” Justin cried. “Thank God!” Beside himself with joy, he found no words, and so he simply stood near her, tears streaming down his cheeks. She spoke softly, thanking him again, and said, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but could I eat something?”
Justin blissfully ran to the kitchen and brought a tray with a big bowl of soup. Devī bowed her head and offered her soup to Kṛṣṇa, transforming it into spiritual food. Justin did not mention that he had already eaten some of the unoffered soup in the kitchen.
With every spoonful, she grew stronger. Devī was a consummate yogī. With rest and nourishment, she seemed to be repairing her own body from within. But something had changed in Devī. The way she smiled at him, not concealing her joy to see him—all that was a Devī he had never seen before.
Of course, in these circumstances they both must feel a camaraderie, an intimacy forged in shared dangers and trials. But Justin saw something more. He feared he was seeing too much. Several times in the past, he felt that Devī was being more open with him, only to be disappointed.
Whatever the cause of Devī’s relaxed, open kindness toward him, it survived a full half hour as they sat together. That had never happened before. She was still shy, to be sure, but there was something different.
Despite his boldness in other company, he was always too shy in her presence to speak of anything but practical concerns. At her request, he explained all that took place from the moment he received Luke’s warning and charged out of Knight Rite in search of her. Devī listened with rapt attention, amazed by his narrative. She expressed profound appreciation for all he did, and genuine concern for all he suffered. When he told her in detail how the Avatāra saved him when there was no other hope, Devī’s eyes opened wide and glistened with emotion. In her every feature, he saw how much his story moved her. When he finished, she said, “It was your turn to save me. You showed real courage, like a true prince. And you kept your vow. I’m very proud of you. It’s what I always wanted.”
The joy that Justin felt at these words would be difficult to describe. But when Devī tried to say more, Justin saw that she was tiring and urged her to rest.
“Oh, we can talk,” she said. But the next moment she fell back on her pillow and looked up at him, as if to say, “You were right. Now, I will be a good patient.”
Devī fell back to sleep under her blankets. She awoke an hour later, even stronger, and said, “Justin, what about your career?”
“You mean my former career.” He smiled.
“Aren’t you upset, or at least sorry?” she asked with evident concern.
“No, I did the right thing. I am forever grateful to Kṛṣṇa that he brought me here. Obviously, Kṛṣṇa wanted me to save you, and as you might put it, I acted simply as his instrument. And I have a Plan B. I will return to West Virginia, hopefully excel in school, go to a good college, and work my way up.”
He hoped she would say, “If you truly leave White Hall, you will be able to work with me.” But she didn’t say it. Devī was treating him so kindly, but she did not bring up their possible collaboration, the mission together. This disappointed him, but he could not mention it to her.
The storm had so darkened the sky that it was only by the clock that Justin saw how late it was. Both he and Devī needed much more rest to recover from their ordeal. Devī was recovering quickly, but she agreed that both should now rest. She insisted on returning to her own room, and Justin was not so enthralled by his new friendship with Devī as to think that he could dissuade her on this point. The medical emergency was over, and her natural modesty now dictated that she sleep in a private place.
Justin did insist that Devī wait until he had a strong fire going in her room. She gladly agreed. He did it at once. Justin worried about her ascent up the stairs, but he knew better than to oppose her on this point. When she started up the stairs, he went behind her in case she fell. After a few steps, she did pause and lean on the rail as if she might come tumbling down. She turned and glanced at him with an embarrassed smile. But she resumed her ascent and soon reached her room. When she reached her door, her smile, nod, and thanks all clearly told him that his path ended there.
As she entered her room, she turned and said with feeling, “Thank you so much, Justin.” Justin offered to come during the night to keep the fire going, but Devī insisted she could do it. The next moment she was in her room and Justin was on his way down the stairs, utterly amazed at all that had happened in a single day.
He lay down under many blankets next to the fire. He tried to rest. He needed to rest. But he could not quickly fall asleep. He had far too much to think about. His family, Luke, Scarlet, and all his White Hall friends, might easily believe he died in the storm. Scarlet might think that she had sent Justin to his death.
Luke must have taken the loss of Justin’s transmission as a sign of disaster. He must have told Sara. Who else might he have told? Surely, he would not mention it to Justin’s family. Sara must be grieving for Devī. Tom and Scarlet, everyone might easily consider him lost, a victim of the storm. If only he could tell everyone that he was all right, that he was better than ever!
Scarlet returned to his mind. He certainly admired her beauty and intelligence, though he did wish that the latter might focus more on metaphysical topics. He did enjoy her company and always looked forward to it. He felt sincere gratitude for her support and friendship. In fact, without Scarlet he might not have escaped Knight Rite, and he shuddered to think what that would have meant.
But Scarlet herself recognized that they lived in different worlds. That now seemed more true than ever.
Of course, he dared not think of Devī in any way but as a spiritual guide and partner. It was difficult to even ask himself how he felt about Devī. It was best not to think about that now, best not to cultivate any particular feeling. It was best to simply do his duty, sincerely and kindly, and forget the rest. Devī was quickly recovering and for now, that was all he needed to know about Devī.
What would Devī be when she fully recovered? It seemed impossible that she could ever think of him in any way but as a spiritual assistant, a student, maybe someday a partner. Beyond this, he must not venture, not even in his mind. She knew his mind, and if he had any wrong thoughts, there would be painful, disturbing consequences.
His mind went to another concern. Did the world know yet that one of its most celebrated couples, the Clays, were dead? More important, what did Justin’s mother and brother know or think? If news of his actions got out, they must be terrified, praying and waiting to hear of his fate. This troubled him greatly. He tried his cell phone and his bodycam transmitter, but the storm had deadened both. He had no contact with the world below.
Finally, his mind turned to a most grave topic, an issue that involved not only the present moment, nor the present life, but his future in many lives to come. What was his relationship with Kṛṣṇa? Justin knew that his life could never be the same after what just happened in his fight with Hunter Clay. Having kept his ancient vow, which Justin assumed was not a one-time commitment, how could he now break it? But what did that entail? What battles, what duties lay ahead? What adventures? What would the Avatāra ask of him? Would Justin serve with Devī? Or having honored his vow, had he fulfilled and thus completed the purpose of his meeting her? Would they move on to different worlds? This last idea did not please him at all.
Devī had expressed much gratitude, and shown much kindness to him. But she had not said a word about their working together. Perhaps that was out of concern for his exhausted state. Or, perhaps she knew that their time together was ending. It was a delicate point and he feared raising it, feared what the answer might be.
CHAPTER 49
At last, exhaustion overcame all his thoughts, and Justin slept. He slept fitfully, waking often to worry about Devī and feed the fire. The tireless storm blew unabated. He rose at dawn with the storm in full fury. No one could possibly come to their rescue now.
He quickly fed the fire and went to the stairs to look up at Devī’s room. Seeing a light beneath her door, he ran up the stairs to see if she needed help. He softly knocked but there was no answer. He waited a minute and knocked again. No answer. He called through the door, “Devī, are you up?” Silence.
Alarmed, he pushed the door slightly ajar and called again. He opened the door slowly, so as not to surprise her. Devī was not there. Had she left this world after all, simply vanishing like a great yogī? That had always been her style.
Justin heard noise downstairs and ran back down. The sound came from the kitchen. Devī was preparing their breakfast.
“Good morning,” she said. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“This is wonderful! You look…normal again. I mean you never look normal, but you look like normal Devī. You’ve recovered.”
“Yes, I’m fine. But Justin, are you all right?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You look exhausted. But of course, you have every reason to be.”
They had breakfast together before the fire. After eating, and carefully watching him, Devī put down her utensils and said, “Justin, you really do not look well. Please, just touch your forehead.”
He did. His body was burning with fever.
“Justin, you must rest now.”
“Oh, I’m okay,” he said, feeling dizzy. “I’ll just sit down for a minute on the couch by the fire.” He found himself too tired to sit, and stretched out. In a moment, he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he was lying on the couch, covered with blankets. Devī, sitting near him, said, “Thank God you’re finally awake.”
“How long was I sleeping?” he asked.
“You slept an entire day. It’s Tuesday morning. How do you feel?”
“Much better, but not great.”
“Touch your head. How does it feel?”
“Better, thank you, but I still have a fever. I see the blizzard didn’t stop.”
“No, not for a moment,” she said.
“So helicopters can’t fly here.”
“No. And after what happened to the Clays, which must be known, no one will dare to drive up here.”
“But we have enough food and water,” Justin said hopefully.
“Yes, for a day or two.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You must be hungry. I’ll bring you something.”
“I’d rather leave it for you, just in case,” Justin said.
Devī frowned. “That is out of the question. You must eat now.”
“Hey, this is like old times,” Justin said. “I’m your patient again.”
Whereas in Bhū-loka, this remark would have earned Justin a dark look, Devī now smiled and nodded her agreement. Kind, friendly Devī was here to stay, and Justin was thrilled.
