Chapter 4 - The Price of a Miracle
Wendell reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet,
which was thick with hundred-dollar bills.
He pulled out five of them and held them out to Jaylen.
The boy looked at the money,
then back at Wendell’s face.
To Wendell’s shock,
Jaylen shook his head.
"I don't want your money,
sir,"
the boy said.
Wendell blinked,
his hand frozen in the air.
"I don't understand.
You fixed my car.
You saved my day.
This is five hundred dollars,
Jaylen."
"I know what it is,"
Jaylen replied,
his voice quiet but firm.
"But I didn't do it for the money.
I did it because I saw someone who needed help,
and I knew how to help them."
Wendell felt a pang of guilt,
a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time.
He realized he was trying to solve this encounter the way he solved everything—with a check.
"Then let me at least give you something for the parts,"
Wendell insisted.
Jaylen looked at the ground,
kicking a small stone with his slide.
"The wire was from a broken lamp in the trash,"
he said.
"The tape was a gift from the hardware store man.
Total cost was maybe two dollars,
if you count the sandpaper."
Wendell was stunned.
A two-dollar fix had saved a three-billion-dollar man.
"Where do you live,
Jaylen?"
Wendell asked,
putting the money away but not letting the subject drop.
"Just over that ridge,"
the boy pointed.
"In the park."
Wendell knew what 'the park' meant in this part of the country.
It meant a trailer park,
a place of gravel roads,
rusted siding,
and families living on the edge of the world.
He looked at the boy’s grocery bag.
Inside,
he could see a half-gallon of milk and a single loaf of bread.
"Is your mother home?"
Wendell asked.
Jaylen nodded.
"She's working nights at the diner,
so she's sleeping now."
Wendell made a sudden,
impulsive decision.
He wasn't going to just drive away.
He couldn't.
"Take me there,"
Wendell said.
"I want to meet her.
I want to tell her what you did."
Jaylen looked hesitant,
as if he were ashamed of where he lived.
But Wendell’s expression was one of genuine interest,
not pity.
"Okay,"
Jaylen said.
"But you have to drive slow.
The road is rough."
Wendell smiled,
a real,
honest smile.
"I think I can handle a little rough road,
Jaylen."
He climbed back into the SUV,
and the boy hopped into the passenger seat,
carefully holding his grocery bag.
As they drove toward the ridge,
Wendell realized that his meeting could wait.
His investors could wait.
The world could wait.
May you like
Something much more important was happening in the red dust of Alabama.
***
