 
Emotionally Bulletproof - Scott's Story (Book 3) - Understanding Patterns of Thinking

By Brian Shaul and David Allen
Copyright

Emotionally Bulletproof Scott's Story (Book 3)

Understanding Patterns of Thinking

By Brian Shaul and David Allen

Copyright (C) 2014 by Brian Shaul and David Allen

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved solely by the author. The author guarantees all contents are original and do not infringe upon the legal rights of any other person or work. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author. The views expressed in this book are not necessarily those of the publisher.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Unless otherwise indicated, Bible quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New Living Translation. Copyright (C) 1996, 2004 by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. Used by permission.
Acknowledgements

We want to thank certain individuals who have embraced the Emotionally Bulletproof principles.

Thank you to Joel and Ashlee Starn, for the word-smithing they did for this book series.

Eric and Angela Carlson for the months of helping refine these ideas.

Thank you to John and Marlys Hall, for their assistance in editing the original manuscripts and openly sharing these ideas with so many people.

Thank you, Janette Riehle, for your advice and editing expertise.

Thank you, Tim Carrick, for being Pastor Tim.
Table of Contents

Seek First to Understand

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

More From the Authors

Worksheet One

Worksheet Two

Worksheet Three

Worksheet Four

Worksheet Five

Worksheet Six

Worksheet Seven

Worksheet Eight

Worksheet Nine
Seek First to Understand

My name is Scott Calloway. When I was in my early twenties, a car accident permanently altered the way my brain works. Because of understanding biblical principles, I was able to overcome tragedy. My eternal gratitude goes out to the people in my life who helped me get back on my feet and find my life's mission.

The story starts in the next section of the book, so if you want to skip to that first, you can. Here, I will tell you about what I learned in the last two books, and explain the lessons to be learned from reading this book.

The first two books will give you two tools for improving your life: the three legs of trust, and the three, twelve, and seventy.

By this point in my story, I had those tools in place. I was returning from a mission trip in the Marshall Islands when I discovered the journal that belonged to my late uncle, Matthew. In its pages were the three legs of trust. The three legs of trust helped me make decisions on who to trust in my life. It also gave me something to aim for when I wanted to increase my trust.

That message could not have come at a better time. Just weeks later, I became head foreman of a construction company now owned by my aunt, Tiffany. I had to navigate her company to success when some of its employees wanted me fired, or worse. My friend, Pastor Tim, gave me not only a place to live, but also the lesson of the three, twelve, and seventy. I learned that your three are your most important lifeline relationships, and your twelve are your close friends. Your seventy are your acquaintances.

I was able to combine the lessons on trust with Tim's lesson about the three, twelve, and seventy to only spend high amounts of time with people I trusted. Everyone else moved down to my twelve or seventy, depending on their level of trust.

Before departing on another mission trip, the car accident happened. Many people said I wouldn't amount to anything after that, even my parents. Doctors and psychologists said that since my conscious mind had been handicapped, the subconscious mind was now the only part of my brain that still functioned well, and this part of my brain was not enough to help me lead a normal life. Even today, I still can't do things in the way that normal people can.

Maybe in your life you've had to deal with something that was unfair. You didn't ask for it. You did everything right that you knew to do, and bad things happened anyway. What makes it worse is when you see people who do things that are morally wrong, and you watch them attain phenomenal success. It can be enough to make you stop trying to improve yourself, or even abandon the moral code that has been passed down to you. I understand completely.

I did everything I could to increase my integrity, I had other people's best interests in mind, and I got the job done, all three legs of trust. I took Pastor Tim's lesson on the three, twelve, and seventy, modeled after Jesus's own social circles, and good things came from using what I learned. Still, bad things happened, and after my injury I needed another tool that I didn't have before. I had to do what other people said couldn't be done.

Unexpected tragedies have a way of making you feel vulnerable. You see glaring weaknesses that were barely visible before, and the task of moving forward feels not only difficult, but not worth it. This feeling can spill into your relationships with people, creating a more entrenched circle of negativity. If this is your situation, then I have something to offer you. I want to give you what I used to move past negativity and on to a greater understanding of the world around me. I will give you a knowledge of thought patterns.

Thought Patterns

Everybody has patterns of thinking. As you move from pattern to pattern, you end up going in a circle that repeats itself. The goal of understanding thought patterns is to find the ones that aren't working and replace them with better ones based in truth.

When you are aware of which experiences cause you to move from one pattern of thinking to the next, you can decide what your next action will be.

This changes your life by giving you control of your thought process.

Not only will understanding thought patterns help you, it will also help your friends. When they struggle with their own thought patterns, you can help them identify the choices before them and use what you've learned to advise them for success. That's the reason I am sharing this with you: I want friends to be better at helping each other.

Before you leap into changing your thought patterns, there are some lessons I want to make sure you get out of the story:

1. Choose Thought Patterns Aligned With Truth - The Bible says that 'the truth will set you free' (John 8:32). I believe it, and that's why I started seeking out truth. Since then, I've noticed both in myself and in clients that searching for the truth can feel scary. The very act of looking for truth is like admitting that we are not aligned with truth. Pride can get in the way, and it can feel like everything you've thought, read, and seen was for nothing. Fortunately for all of us, that is not the truth, and finding truth adds value to all of our past experiences. The goal of truth is to set you free, not to bring sadness or kill your hopes for the future. Keeping this in mind is one of the most important things you can do when working with your thought patterns.

2. Thought Patterns and Trust are Closely Related - During those key moments when you know you have to make an important choice, ask yourself one question: Which one of the patterns of thinking in front of me scores highest on the three legs of trust? An in-depth look at the three legs of trust can be found in Book 1, but to summarize: you're asking which pattern has the highest integrity, has others' best interests in mind, and can get the job done. The best choice is usually clear after filtering all your choices through the three legs of trust.

3. Don't be Afraid of Your Thought Patterns - Some thought patterns look ugly. When you work with your patterns, you will find many that influence your actions, and not all of them will be good ones. That is why doing this emotional labor is so valuable to you. Strengthen and grow the positive patterns of thinking through thought, learning, and action, while reducing the negative ones by pointing out their flaws, stopping the actions that strengthen them, and comparing them to the truth that you find.

4. Work in Groups to Learn Faster - We only get one life on this earth, so why learn slowly when you can learn quickly? The fastest way to learn is to teach. In Book 2, I talk about the three, twelve, and seventy, and how those in your three and twelve should be the people you trust most. These people are great for honest feedback, advice, and for studying these concepts with you. You don't need to be responsible for doing the teaching all the time, but take the time to exchange ideas, helping those in your three and twelve. This will not only raise your own level of trust, but you'll also have access to perspectives you would not have found on your own.

5. Any work you do in this area is helpful, so don't be intimidated or afraid of being wrong - Just identifying even a few of the patterns in your head and choosing to reinforce better ones will help you. Your brain may make excuses not to do this type of mental exercise because the improvement isn't always felt immediately. Thought patterns are a marathon type of training; you don't need to win it all immediately, you just need to keep taking the next steps.

I may not have this kind of time to share things with you one-on-one after this, because I am a fictional character. I hope you'll understand that I've talked a lot because I care about you. My mission is your success. My story will help connect what you read with how you experience life. After the story, I'd like to share a parting gift to make sure you find the success you seek. In the back of the book, the authors wrote worksheets and detailed explanations of thought patterns, and how to use them to create lasting change. I encourage you to read and make copies of these worksheets so that you can use them whenever you like.

From now on, I may appear in other stories or blog posts. Until then, enjoy this story and God bless you.

\- Scott Calloway
Chapter One

The emergency room was a busy place, but there was one exception. As night continued, Scott drifted between sleeping and waking, hovering so close to the frontier between those two realms that the line separating them was blurred.

"Your son's temporal lobe has been bruised, and he is in a coma," said the nurse.

After moving Scott to a private room, the nurse continued to explain to a father and brother who needed no explanation. Robert Calloway knew the consequences of this type of injury, having worked with many such patients in his psychology practice.

"He is alert," she said. "He has occasionally opened his eyes and even turned toward an empty glass, grunting until we gave him water. He can probably hear as well, so be careful what you say around him."

Robert and Phillip nodded, and the nurse rushed towards the next crisis, confident in Scott's now stabilized condition.

Robert took a deep breath. "Do you know what this means, Phillip?"

"Temporal lobe damage? Yeah, I know," said Phillip.

Robert put a hand on Phillip's shoulder as he stared into the room where his younger son lay. "His life is never going to be the same. Never. And I fear the worst."

Phillip eyed Scott, watching his chest rise and fall slowly with each steady breath. "I can see why. It's terrible."

"Scott didn't really do much with what he had. Life is valuable, son. Remember that we only get one, and keep going forward with your life as you have. The tragedy would have been more severe if you had been in his place. Live life to the fullest, and get all that you can out of it."

Scott grunted, his head moving from one side to another before resting again on the pillow. Phillip grimaced. "So this is what patients look like before they come see us. I've never seen it before."

"We usually don't. This is what a head injury looks like before they visit us. Remember this, and you'll have a fresh perspective, when working with Dr. Chang, that few psychologists get. It's a privilege to witness, despite the fact that he's family."

"What do you think will happen with him?" asked Phillip.

"It depends on the injury and the person. He will have memory issues for the rest of his life. He may get extremely violent, or even need institutionalization. Either way, he'll be unable to hold a job, take care of a family, or contribute to anything except his own survival, and he could barely do that before the injury."

Phillip understood. He closed his eyes and looked away from the room, down the fluorescent-lit corridor. "I don't want to watch this right now, but I'll remember."

"Good. You wait in the lobby for me before you take off. I want to talk to you just a bit more about this."

Phillip nodded and turned down the hallway, past several paramedics rushing someone on a gurney towards a nearby room. He turned a corner and disappeared, leaving Robert standing alone outside Scott's room.

Scott knew he was in the hospital, but couldn't remember how he got there. It wasn't long ago that he had been with Mark and Amy in the ambulance. He remembered the ride to the hospital, but not much else. Beneath his back, he felt something poking him on his right side. He ignored it and tried to relax, letting his condition and the chemicals in his IV carry him where they wanted him to go.

As his mind drifted, Scott didn't know how much time had passed since he heard his father's voice. Through half-closed eyes, he saw a visitor sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed. The man was tall like his father, but much thinner, with long black hair pulled back into a small ponytail. He had a thin nose and piercing eyes, and was wearing a leather jacket and dress pants.

Scott then saw the man move towards him, gliding from the chair to his bedside as if the whole process required only one step. Scott knew that he had seen the man before.

"I can hear you, you know," said the man, gripping the side of the bed with his left hand.

"What are you doing here?" asked Scott.

"The last time you saw me, you made a choice. You once called me Teacher, then went against my recommendations. Did you think I didn't know what the result of your choice would be?"

"Go away."

The man laughed softly before refocusing his gaze upon Scott. "What do you think I've been doing for the past few months, Scott? Everything there was just you and Michael, with no thought for your future."

"I know who you are, and you're no teacher," said Scott, grimacing in discomfort, but trying to hide it. The poking under his back returned to his awareness, growing stronger with every pulse of his heartbeat.

The corner of the man's lip curled upwards. "I know there's something there, under your right side. The stethoscope under your back has been keeping you awake like this, hasn't it?"

"Then this isn't a dream?" asked Scott.

"This is as real as salt on an open wound. You're here and so am I. And like salt, something you've seen as good is causing you a world of unnecessary pain. Michael made you go up the cliff face, didn't he? Don't you know that what goes up must eventually come down? Have twenty-one years of life taught you nothing?"

"I liked the view," said Scott. The man slammed his other hand on the rail of the bedside, causing it to tremble.

"Michael let you fall. He let you down." He slowly relaxed his grip on the bed rail and allowed his hands to rest at his sides. "I like you, Scott. What you've just said to me is proof that you're a fighter, and I know where fighters like you can win. That's why I'm here, to offer you a second chance. You'll still see the ones you've lost, eventually."

Leaning forward, the man spoke, making each word as deliberate as he could. "You've got to look after yourself. If you do not, this will happen." He gestured at the walls of the room with his hands. "What does it matter if others win, if you die a loser? You need to change course and take care of yourself. Your family won't, so who else will?"

Scott hated to hear it from someone else, but he couldn't deny the conversation he had just heard between his father and older brother. As his lips started to move, Scott remembered his aunt, who loved him, and his friend, Tim. He still had people who supported him and were willing to fight for him. Seeing their faces in his head, Scott spoke. "I'm glad I did what I did. I don't regret it."

The man stood upright again, and pointed a finger at him. "You still have a second chance, Scott. There is no easy way to follow Michael's path, and it will get harder and harder the rest of your life." Scott couldn't ignore the man's sense of confidence and certainty, and it strained his nerves as he listened. "There is no room in this world of mine for those who follow that path, and you should remember before it's too late for you."

Scott closed his eyes, trying to ignore the earpieces of the stethoscope that still prodded his lower back. He couldn't move, except to slightly shift his weight to his left. When he opened his eyes, the room was empty, and the visitor had vanished. Sleep overtook him again.

He heard familiar voices. This time it was his friend, Tim, joined by his son, Mark.

"What do you mean, he doesn't want visitors?" asked Tim.

"I mean exactly what I said." Robert was still just outside in the hall. "People who experience head trauma become antisocial and experience a time of isolation where they ignore familiar voices and won't engage in communication."

"But he was talking and everything when we got to the hospital," said Mark.

"I just want to let him know I care and pray for him," Tim continued, "The nurse said he could hear when I —"

Robert cut Tim off mid-sentence. "You're that pastor, the one who's been running a youth homeless shelter. I have nothing to say to you, and neither does he."

"Can't he hear you talk?" asked Mark, glancing into Scott's room.

Robert's eyes darted to Mark's face, then back to Tim, as if he were cracking a whip with his gaze. "Maybe, but he won't remember. You can be sure of that."

"Tim? Robert? I'm glad you're here. How is he?" Scott heard a woman's voice and the sound of footsteps rushing closer and closer.

"What took you so long, Tiff?" Robert instantly tried to sound concerned, masking the recent aggressive tone he had used with Pastor Tim.

"I was out helping a friend and didn't hear the message until after I got back home. I'm sorry."

"Yes. I'm sorry too." Robert stared at Tim with a stone-like expression, his eyes daring Scott's closest friend to try crossing him.

"We've got to check in on Amy. Maybe I'll hear from you later," said Tim, greeting Tiffany with a nod before leading Mark away from the guarded doorway.

Tiffany waited until Pastor Tim and his son were out of sight before turning to her brother. "Robert! After all Tim's done for your son, what on earth are you doing?"

"All he's done? I'm doing damage control. If that reckless child of his hadn't been driving, Scott wouldn't be in this mess."

Tiffany wanted more than anything to defend her new friends, but she knew her brother wouldn't back down. "How bad is the damage?"

"He has no clue what's going on. He'll be in la-la land because of the head injury. It may be years before he can function normally, and even then he won't be what he was."

"Can't you explain this quietly, or at least out in the waiting room?" asked Tiffany.

"Why?" asked Robert. "He won't remember a thing. When he's out of the hospital, he'll be telling you about his seventh birthday three times in a conversation. He'll barely remember what he says himself, much less what you or I say. I can't believe this had to happen now, when I have so many plans for the future."
Chapter Two

Scott woke to find Tiffany at his bedside. His movement caught Tiffany's attention, and she rose from the chair she was sitting in. "I'm so glad you're awake." She leaned over the bed so he wouldn't need to struggle to see her.

"It's poking...my back," said Scott. "Help."

Tiffany walked around the bed, where she could see the round metal of the stethoscope dangling from a cord leading up under Scott's back. "I'm sorry, Scott." She quickly removed the stethoscope and Scott felt relieved.

"There was a guy here," said Scott.

"Your doctor was here a while ago, so was Tim and your father. There were several guys here."

Scott blinked several times, looking up at the ceiling. "How long... did I... sleep?"

"You've been in a coma for two-and-a-half days. I told your parents I would be watching you whenever I could, until you came around," said Tiffany. Scott turned his head to his right, looking into Tiffany's blue eyes. Nothing had changed about her since he saw her last, which came as a relief to him.

Only a few days, he thought.

"The doctor says you're going to stay for several more days after you wake up, but then you can go home."

"Oh? Home... Okay," said Scott. Tiffany looked like she was expecting more of an answer than that. "Oh, there was a guy here. He was talking there about... and he wore a... and then... slammed his hand on the... and now I haven't seen—-" Scott knew what he wanted to say, but the words nudged themselves further away when he reached for them.

Tiffany smiled at Scott. "You've had a rough time. Try to get some more rest and you'll be feeling better, okay?"

Scott turned his head back to face the ceiling again. "How long... did I... sleep?"

"Just try to get some rest," said Tiffany, quickly leaving the room so he wouldn't see her tears.

Is my aunt alright? Scott thought. I couldn't have been out for very long. Is something else bothering her? He lay staring at the ceiling until sleep took over again.

The day before Scott left the hospital, Mark came to visit him. He told Scott that he still had some bruises and Amy had a broken arm, but they were all right. He apologized for losing control of the car. Scott forgave him. He didn't feel like anything else could be done.

The next day, Scott thought back to his last several days in the hospital. He remembered the doctor's face and the room facing the rising Alaskan sun. He remembered waiting until midday, when the sun didn't blind him and he could look out the window at the city below. Winter snow blanketed the trees and the parking lot several stories beneath him. His memories were interrupted by Robert and Tiffany, who both came by to pick him up.

"Where am I going?" Scott felt himself being wheeled towards an elevator, with his aunt's small white hands holding onto the chair, pushing him forward.

"You're going home to stay with me," said Robert.

"Tiffany is here with me because she can spare the time."

"Where's Mom?" Scott asked.

"Your mom was here yesterday, but I suppose you forgot. Right now she's at the house, getting your room clean."

"Okay. Thank you." At hearing Scott's indifferent tone, Robert looked ready to kick the wheelchair, but he stopped himself, taking several deep breaths as they entered the elevator.

Scott's parents lived on a winding back road that led out of Wasilla, a small town just over a half hour's drive from the hospital. A large new truck was parked in the driveway, alongside an older one.

"Oh, Scott," said his aunt, "Your truck isn't here. You left it at Tim's house. I'll make sure to drop it off tomorrow. Okay?"

Scott said nothing to Tiffany, and continued to stare, with his mouth half-open, at the two-story house in front of him.

The front door had a Christmas wreath adorning it. It bounced on its hook as Scott's mother opened the door for Robert, who was pushing Scott's wheelchair. Jean approached her son and gave him a kiss on the cheek before helping him inside.

Getting up the stairs took a lot of energy for Scott, as he had been bedridden for five days. Still, he was able to do it with his father's help, who held onto his right arm and supported Scott's weight with his shoulder.

Together, Scott and his father passed the closed door of Phillip's room and entered Scott's room. The floors had just been vacuumed and the litter box that had once been in the room was gone. Scott was indifferent, even though he was allergic to cats. In the corner of his room was a newly made bed, covered with fresh sheets and blankets. The closet doors were all shut and the walls, which had been covered with posters during his teen years, were now blank, white slates of nothing.

Scott collapsed on the bed, face-down. Robert straightened his dress shirt and turned to face his sister, who was just now entering the room. "I have to go back to work. I have an appointment and medical bills are expensive."

Tiffany moved to the side to let him out.

"Scott." Tiffany moved closer to the bed, where Scott still lay on his stomach. "I'll visit as often as I can. If you need anything, call me and let me know, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

Scott wanted to rest, but he had done nothing but rest for the past five days. I am so tired, he thought. Why?

Downstairs, he could hear the voices of his mom and his aunt. He thought about moving, but felt it would take too much effort. Scott was unsure of what to think or do. He wondered what would be for dinner. He was secretly hoping for some unfamiliar eastern dish, but he didn't know why. His mom never made things like that.

"Why am I here?" he asked himself. He tried to remember what had happened when he arrived at the hospital. The voice of his father was the first thing that came into his head. "It may be years before he can function normally, and even then he won't be what he was." He had been forgetful of a lot of things since arriving at the hospital, but he remembered every word his father said.

I feel fine, Scott thought, just a little forgetful. I just got out of the hospital, too, so I just need a few more days. He pulled the blankets over his fully clothed body. "I guess I'll just rest for now until dinner or until Tiffany shows up again."

Tiffany returned that afternoon, just in time for dinner. Jean had made a tater-tot casserole and thought that Scott would like dinner sooner rather than later. He made his way down the stairs much easier than when he went up, and used the back of the couch to support himself as he made his way to the dinner table. By the time he sat down, Tiffany entered their house and gave both of them a hug.

"Tiffany." Scott said her name plainly before looking down at his plate, picking up a fork and beginning his meal. Jean seemed surprised that he would start before his aunt or herself had a chance to sit down.

"Scott, at least offer your aunt some before —"

"It's fine, Jean. Remember what the doctor said?" At Tiffany's reminding, Jean nodded and gave her a plate of food anyway. Tiffany couldn't help but smile.

"How is Phillip doing? I saw him at the hospital, but didn't have time to talk," asked Tiffany.

"He's fine. Right now he's working with Chang. You know, Robert's mentor back when he was in college. He's in Anchorage all week, and lately he hasn't been coming out on weekends. The highway, he says, isn't good for his car this time of year."

Scott sat upright and looked at Tiffany. "That's right! I have work, too. Could you call Chris and tell him why I wasn't there?"

"I called Tim about it, and he says Chris left early for Cambodia yesterday. He told you to get well and that he's sorry he had to leave before you got better."

"Okay. Thank you."

Tiffany wasn't used to how Scott's moods would change so suddenly. He continued eating, leaving Jean on her own to make sense out of what just happened. Tiffany took a seat between Scott and his mother, each woman supporting the other in mind and spirit. "Well, boys will do what boys will do, that's what my mother says," said Jean.

Scott spent the next day sitting upright at the foot of his bed. He felt as if he was missing out on something. A loneliness crept over him that he hadn't felt since he was forced to leave the Marshall Islands. He stared at the white wall in front of him, trying to figure out why he was so disappointed. He remembered the words of his father at the hospital, and while they were cruel, they weren't the source of what he was feeling.

When he tried to think, he had trouble putting his thoughts into words. It was the same feeling he had when he tried to explain the visit of the Teacher to his hospital room. Words danced in the dark corners of his head, just out of reach. He had felt it several times since then, and each time he said very little, because trying harder just caused his head to ache.

"Scott?"

Scott remained motionless on the bed, seated upright with his feet on the floor. Jean looked in the direction he was staring, but didn't see anything of interest. "Scott?" she asked again.

"Huh?" said Scott.

Jean couldn't tell whether that was a question or not. Scott didn't turn his head or make any movement showing that he noticed her. Trying not to be upset, she walked in front of the blank wall he was staring at and faced him. Scott slowly looked up with the same expression he had staring at the wall.

"I have a few boxes in the basement filled with holiday decorations. They say 'holiday decorations' on the boxes. Can you go down and get them for me while I go to the post office?" Jean was unsure whether the words were going in or getting tangled up in her son's red afro.

"Yes, I can," Scott said with a wistful voice, as if he was chasing a childhood memory.

"Will you do it?" she asked again, not wanting to be misunderstood.

"Yes."

Jean left the room, and Scott was alone again. He remembered that he still had a job to do, and was planning a trip to Cambodia.

How much time off should I take? I hope Chris isn't mad at me. Tim said I have to work hard for him, but my truck isn't here so I can't go. He thought about the trip to Cambodia, and whether or not he would miss it. Cambodia was a really dangerous place, filled with guerilla warfare in the jungles and innocent victims who had lost limbs. "I really want to help," he said, reacquainting himself with the wall, gazing upon it like it was a museum exhibit.

When Jean returned several hours later, she walked upstairs to Scott's room. There she saw her son motionless on the bed, seated upright with his feet on the floor. She wanted to say something, but questioned whether it would do any good. She stared at her son who had maintained the same dumfounded expression that had been on his face for the past several hours. Shaking her head, she turned and left the room.

The sun set, and the room continued to get darker, but Scott didn't seem to care. When the smell of lasagna reached up his nose and tickled his brain, Scott then realized he hadn't done much that day. Starting to get up, he heard the front door open and shut. Upon hearing this, Scott changed his mind. He knew his father wouldn't be happy about his behavior.

"Scott! Get down here!" Robert wasn't mad, Scott could tell. His father just didn't want to walk upstairs to get him. He got up and walked downstairs to see his father and mother seated at the dinner table with plates of lasagna. There was an empty space for him, but his plate was next to Robert's.

"Have a seat, son," said Robert.

Scott pulled out the wooden chair and sat down slowly. He reached for his lasagna- covered plate but was interrupted by his father. "Before you eat, we need to have a few words."

He nodded once at his wife, not caring if she started eating before anyone else. Instead of pulling a piece of french bread from the center plate on the table, she stared across at Scott, a look of concern in her eyes.

"Your mother and I have discussed this, and we think it's healthy for you to see a psychologist. Your mom told me she wanted someone who wasn't family to do it, and I happen to know the best psychologist in Alaska. If you weren't my son, chances are you'd get some state social worker who didn't really have the qualifications to help you, so consider yourself thankful."

Scott looked at his father, giving him the same feeling his mother received when asking him to get out the decorations. Robert had seen the look before dozens of times, however, and continued with his explanation more for his wife's sake than his son's.

"You will meet with Doctor Chang. He is Phillip's employer for the paid internship, and he also was my mentor back when I was just starting up my own practice. If anyone can help you, he can.

"So, you will meet several times a week for at least a month. He is going to help you understand what is going on in your mind and help you learn how to deal with it. If it doesn't work at the end of the month, we'll take you to somebody else, but I doubt that's necessary. He's the one I always go to when I have a question."

Scott looked at his food, which still had steam rising from it, as the plate was kept captive by the tips of his dad's fingers. "I'm going to see Chang, Phillip's boss."

"For how long?" Robert leaned back slightly, waiting for his son to answer.

"Next week," said Scott blankly.

"One month, Scott. You will meet with Chang for one month. Starting tomorrow. I've already set up an appointment for you."

Scott blinked several times. "One month," he said.

At hearing what he wanted, Robert slid the plate across the wood table and in front of Scott. "Have a piece of bread too, son."
Chapter Three

Jean drove towards Anchorage with her son. She progressed as cautiously as she could, but not as slowly as she liked. The highway was slick from the repeated melting and freezing of the ice, even with the thousands of cars that passed over it every day.

"I feel bad about your father holding your lasagna hostage last night, but you need to see someone. He shouldn't have to do things like that just to get your attention. I know I don't want to." She glanced over at her son, who turned towards her.

"You make good lasagna. It's worth the wait."

Jean couldn't help but smile at what her son had said. She was glad he didn't feel resentment for what had happened the night before. She always disliked it when Robert acted so controlling, and usually told Scott most of her complaints.

"So," said Scott. "Who am I seeing?"

"Dr. Chang, remember?" said Jean.

"Oh, him. Dad told me about him."

Several large semi trucks switched lanes and sped past her, splashing dirty water on her windshield. "Oh my goodness," said Jean, switching on her windshield wipers. "He's good, you know. That's what your dad says. Your dad told me that Chang is better than he is."

"So maybe he'll see something Robert doesn't?"

"I hope so, Scott."

Chang's office was on the first floor of a two-story building. A large sign hung over the door, indicating Chang's psychology practice.

Scott entered with his mother and found himself in a waiting room. To his left were several green sofas with a corner table holding some magazines. In front of him was a desk, behind which sat an Asian woman with straight black hair. She smiled at him. "You must be Scott. Take a seat and Dr. Chang will be with you soon." She had no accent at all, and over the phone Scott would never have thought she was Asian.

He sat down on one of the sofas. Jean joined him on the opposite one, so she could look at him while speaking.

"I'm going to wait here until you get out. If you want to tell me anything about how it went, let me know."

Scott then heard a door shut near him and an excited voice greeting him. "Hey Scott! Good to see you." An energetic Phillip approached Scott from his left and slapped a hand on his back. Scott flinched from the slap before looking up. "Swift and effective!" cried Phillip.

Scott forced a smile as his brother laughed.

"So," said Phillip, "have you met Chang before?"

"No," said Scott. "First time."

"He's really good. Usually I would talk to patients alongside Chang, but because I'm family, you get to work with him one-on-one."

The phone rang and the secretary answered on the first ring. Hanging up, she turned her head toward Scott. "Dr. Chang will see you now."

"Well, I'm glad you're here too, Mom. I have some reports to write up, so I'll see you two later. Follow me, little brother."

Scott rose from the chair and followed his brother down the hall past the secretary's desk. Upon arriving at the last door, Phillip stopped. "I'll be in the back room," he said, pointing to a door on the other end of the hall.

Phillip opened the office door for his brother. Along the right wall was a bookshelf spanning the entire length of the room. Upon it were rows of large books. In the left corner there was another green sofa. Just nearby was an easy chair facing the sofa. In the far back was a desk that had nothing on it and several file cabinets clearly labeled in alphabetical order. Behind the desk was a window covered with open blinds, and above that were awards, plaques and pictures of the doctor next to people whom Scott guessed were important people in the world. In one of the pictures, Scott even recognized the face of the current governor of Alaska, who was shaking Chang's hand at a conference. All the awards and certifications beneath the pictures lined the wall.

Scott had been to his father's practice many times, but Chang's place looked more organized; more precise. Robert placed his degrees, business license, and anything he could on every wall. This office was an immaculate shrine in comparison, with every signal of importance gathered together in one place.

"Scott Calloway. I have been looking forward to meeting you. Have a seat." Chang pointed a long, white finger to the sofa. Scott moved over to it.

"I already know your father, and your brother has been working really hard for me. I appreciate what he has done. Now I'd like to know you, because that is the first step in the process."

"Wait. Why am I here?" asked Scott. "I mean, I know my father wanted me to come, but why am I here?"

"You've been in a car accident, Scott. Accidents can do any number of things. In your case, you've bruised a part of your brain. Bruising the brain isn't like bruising your knee or bruising your elbow by slipping on some ice. This type of bruising affects your thinking. You are here because you do not know the extent of the damage."

"Damage?" asked Scott.

"Have you ever tried to explain something, Scott? Have you ever found yourself grasping for the right words, only to come up empty? What about your memory, has it been serving you well since you got out of the hospital?"

Scott recognized these feelings and nodded. He had been having some trouble.

"What I do is interesting, Scott. In the next several months, you may find yourself doing things you've never done, or feeling negative emotions you cannot explain. I not only help you see why you do what you do, but where it came from. I also can show you things you can do right now to compensate for your weaknesses. Maybe you'll get better or maybe you won't. Either way, I'll help you move forward to accept either possibility."

"Okay," said Scott. He would try his best to remember. "Now, the first step would be to tell me about your childhood," said Chang. "That's a good starting point for us."

"Well, I grew up in Alaska my whole life. I never went out except for a couple vacations to Idaho to visit my grandma. I also went with my family to Disneyland in California once."

"Have you done any traveling since then?" asked Chang.

"I went to the Marshall Islands by myself," said Scott.

"Very good, Scott. This was when you were an adult, am I right?"

"Yes. I was twenty when I left."

"We should talk about that later. Island cultures really are fascinating. Let's get back to childhood for now, though. What were your happiest moments growing up as a child?"

Scott leaned his head against the back of the sofa. For several seconds, he said nothing. "This is a nice office," said Scott. His eyes narrowed again as he surveyed the room before looking back at Chang. "Why am I here? My dad wanted me here, right? So, you must be Doctor Chang."

"Yes I am, and I am here to help." Chang leaned forward slightly, adjusting his square-framed glasses. "I will remind you that whenever you are confused, ask a question. You will ask me lots of questions, okay?"

"Okay," said Scott, looking lost.

"You'll have to trust me here if you want to get all you can from talking to me. Ask questions and move forward. Do not doubt my methods. They are based on science. Ask a question. Get the answer. Move forward. Repeat after me."

Scott repeated the words. "Ask a question. Get the answer. Move forward."

Doctor Chang leaned back again, smiling. "Very good. Now, what were your happiest moments growing up as a child?"

Scott left the office with a piece of paper in his hand. He walked down the hall towards his mother, who set down her home decorating magazine. As they both headed for the door, Scott looked at the paper. It read, "Give to Jean." Scott handed the folded square of paper to her. She took it, opened it up, and showed it to Scott. "Put in left pocket of Scott's pants on every appointment," was written along the top of the now unfolded sheet. In the center were three short sentences: "Ask a question. Get the answer. Move forward."

They left the building and got into the truck to head back home. "Do you want to talk about how it went?" Jean asked as she started the truck.

"It went fine. He gave me that paper and we talked. I don't remember what we talked about."

"Well, I'll just give you a note asking about that for the next time you see him. Now, let's get home. Thanksgiving is in just a few days and I want to start getting everything ready."

For the next few days, Scott indulged his mother by helping her with her favorite home activity: decorating. The only thing she liked more was taking art classes at the community college, and fortunately for her, the holidays allowed her the opportunity to pursue one passion while she took a break from the other. Whenever he got confused, Scott was reminded by his mother to ask questions.

Tiffany had received the help of one of her former employees to drive Scott's truck from Pastor Tim's house to his parent's driveway. The red truck was now parked just to the side of their driveway, giving Robert close access to the front door. Scott didn't know when he would drive again, but hoped it was soon.

He knew based on his work with Chang that picking up his grandma at the airport on Thanksgiving afternoon would involve too many directions for him to follow, so he understood when Robert asked Phillip to pick her up instead when her plane arrived.

On Thanksgiving afternoon, Scott watched the beginning of a football game with Robert while waiting for his brother and grandma to arrive. "On my day off I have to watch the Cowboys and the Dolphins?" Robert grumbled, "I hope they both lose."

Scott couldn't help but laugh at his dad's sarcasm. "Spoken like a true Green Bay Packers fan."

"Scott?" Jean called from the kitchen. "Can you help me?"

Scott heard her and went into the kitchen. "You want help?" he asked.

"I want you to put silverware on the table, so we can be ready when my mother gets here."

"Relax, Jean. It's not like she'll leap from the front door to the dining table the second she comes," said Robert.

"I'm just worried about her health, that's all," said Jean, looking past Scott towards the back of her husband's head. "Her chemotherapy for breast cancer ended six months ago and I haven't seen her since I visited last."

"I didn't go on that trip," said Scott, setting a fistful of silverware on the table.

"We didn't tell you about the trip because we couldn't reach you. You were on those Martha Islands," said Jean.

"Marshalls," Scott corrected. He left the dining room table to sit back down when Robert turned and looked at him.

"Are you done helping?" he asked.

Scott turned around and noticed the silverware, which was clumped together in a pile in the middle of the tablecloth.

Just then, Tiffany pulled in behind Scott's truck. "My sister's here," said Robert.

Tiffany opened the door. By now, she had visited so often that she no longer knocked before coming in. Scott was glad, too, because she no longer had to worry about money, and had decided to make a part-time job out of helping him. She talked with Scott, and tried to help him visualize getting better. It didn't work, and he usually spaced out when trying to think for a long time, but he still appreciated her company.

"Scott." Tiffany gave him a hug. "Why don't you sit down and watch the game? I'll help your mother until we're ready to eat."

"Okay, thank you." Scott made his way back to the couch and sat down.

By halftime, Phillip's car pulled into the driveway. "Jean, they're here," Robert announced. Jean rushed to the door just as her mother, escorted by Phillip, reached their doorstep. Grandma's eyes lit up when she saw Scott. "There you are, young man. Give me a hug!"

Scott had missed her greatly and was glad to hug her again. "Last time I saw you, you had long hair," he said.

"I hope you're not disappointed. I had a wig when I went through chemo, but since then I grew my hair out to the point it's at now."

"Don't worry, Grandma, I think it looks good."

Phillip walked over to where Robert was now standing, eyeing the game on TV. "Go Cowboys," he said. Robert glanced at his eldest son, then addressed his family.

"Can you believe that?" Robert said. Tiffany laughed as he continued. "I don't know this man. He's been spending too much time with Chinese doctor, Chang."

"Hey, he's only half Chinese, then he's half Irish like us," said Phillip.

"Don't you know my mentor, son? He's 100% Chinese and 100% Irish. He's that good," joked Robert.

The whole family sat down at the table to eat. Jean placed the cooked turkey on the dining table as everyone seated themselves. Scott's grandma sat next to him and made up for lost time.

"Tell me about the Marshall Islands. They must be wonderful."

Scott explained. "They are. The moon is much larger in the night sky than it is here in the states. Sometimes three times larger. The water is clear and the beaches are washed with seawater every day because of the tides. I did cut my foot, though, and that hurt a lot."

"You didn't tell me the whole story on that. How did you get cut?" asked Jean.

"My friend and I were shark fishing."

"Right from the beach? That is amazing. Do they really get attracted to, you know, the guts?" Grandma asked.

"They do. They call it chum. The islanders carve dead fishes with their knives and scoop out the stuff they don't use, like intestines and stuff like that. Then they put it all in a bucket with the blood that drained from their —"

"Scott. This is Thanksgiving dinner. Let us enjoy it," said Jean, slicing a warm roll in half.

Robert stopped chewing on a turkey leg to speak. "You may not have noticed, but Scott was in a car accident less than two weeks ago."

"I heard about that. Phillip told me. What happened?" Grandma asked.

"I don't remember. We were skiing, then on our way back, my friend lost control of the car," said Scott.

"Oh, those icy roads are terrible," said Grandma. "I've come mighty close to crashing several times myself."

As the group finished their main course, Jean's fresh pumpkin pies and vanilla ice cream quickly replaced the stuffing and rolls.

"Way to go, Mom," said Phillip. "That's why I keep coming back. Can I take some leftovers with me?"

"No, Phillip. How can I get you to come back if you take all my food?" asked Jean.

"Hey, Grandma, I didn't tell you about the islands yet," said Scott. Phillip, Robert, Jean, and Grandma all turned and looked at him. "I could keep it short. Only talk about where I cut my foot and how we go shark fishing."

"You've already talked about that," said Robert.

"Did I?" asked Scott. Glancing from person to person, he could tell that he would only be repeating himself.

"In the meantime, I have something to announce, now that all of you are here." Robert stood up, wine glass in hand. "Jean and I have done some talking, and I have decided to move forward with an important decision in my career. I will be running for mayor in the next election in Wasilla."

Upon hearing this, Phillip raised his glass and cheered. Grandma smiled, staring up at her son-in-law. Jean looked up at her husband. Tiffany clapped with her hands close together.

Scott, however, just stared up at his father with a blank expression.

"Isn't it great, Scott?" Phillip said looking straight at him. Seeing that Scott did not respond, his grandma looked at him in curiosity.

Phillip rose to his feet and made his way around the table towards Scott, then gave him a hard slap on the shoulder. Scott flinched and instantly jerked his head towards his brother.

"Phillip, stop smacking your brother. I don't like it when you do that," said Jean.

"Oh, don't worry, Mom, this is normal after the accident. Just imagine a large reset button on his shirt and go for it."

"It's annoying. Don't do it again," said Scott.

"I'll stop when you answer people when they talk to you," said Phillip, making his way back to his chair.

"Phillip. Your mother's right. Only during emergencies can you do that," said Robert, winking once before digging into a scoop of ice cream. Tiffany glared at Phillip, then at her brother.

Jean rose from the table and went into the kitchen, putting leftover food in the refrigerator.

"I'm sorry, bro. Here, I'll scoop you some ice cream, and have some pie, too. I was just joking, okay?"

Scott had heard that tone of voice from his brother many times before. Usually it was when he was a kid, around kindergarten or elementary school age, and it was always an attempt by his brother to undo a joke after taking it too far.

"Yeah. No problem," said Scott.
Chapter Four

Since the Thanksgiving celebration, Tiffany continued to spend time with Scott. Robert didn't mind, as long as Scott continued to go for therapy with Doctor Chang.

On this visit, Tiffany was downstairs on the couch while Scott sat next to her in the large chair. They had just gone out together to pick out a Christmas tree for Jean, and now it was outside, waiting for Robert to help bring it in after work.

"So, Scott, what has Chang been talking to you about? You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine. We've been talking about the conscious and subconscious mind. The subconscious mind cannot be changed. That's what Chang says. Once something in your childhood gets in there, it stays forever."

"What is the difference between the subconscious and conscious mind?" asked Tiffany.

"You know, you're my father's sister."

"I just want to see how you explain it."

"The conscious is what you choose to think about. The subconscious is more like a computer program. All your experiences cause you to react without thinking. Chang says animals don't have a conscious mind, that's what makes humans different," said Scott.

"That sounds about right, from what I've heard," said Tiffany. "So dogs, cats and horses don't have a conscious mind?"

"Yeah. Chang was telling me about this Russian guy's dog that drooled when a bell was rung. The bell was for food. Then the... um, he went to eat... hearing it... the dog drooled even when there wasn't any."

Tiffany remembered the story. "I've heard it before. The dog heard a bell and learned food was served when the bell rang. Then the dog would drool upon hearing the bell, even when there wasn't any food. That's the subconscious mind, right?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I still do that. I forget the words I'm trying to say."

"Don't worry about it. Just keep asking questions and you'll be fine."

Scott stretched and looked around. His coat was on a rack next to the door. He just noticed that he had forgotten to brush off the pine needles before he came into the house. "The needles, I forgot."

Tiffany looked over, then smiled. "Don't worry about a thing." She got up and went to the kitchen, coming back with a broom and dustpan.

"Chang told me I'd start acting more like the Russian guy's dog because my conscious brain can't do as much. It's really annoying."

Tiffany swept up the needles that had fallen on the floor. "I don't know what to say. You've had most of your choices made for you since you got out of the hospital. That isn't really your fault. Chang's work may be grounded in science, but where does the science end? Can you really let someone you barely know determine your potential? Don't give up, Scott."

Scott leaned his head back against the chair. "I won't."

*****

"I want to give it a try," Scott insisted. After one week and three appointments with Doctor Chang, he knew what road Chang's office was on and how to get there. This time, he was determined to drive there himself.

"Before you take off, at least take the notes I wrote you. You know how mad your dad will get if you don't remember," said Jean, handing him both folded notes.

Scott unfolded the one to read it. "Ask the question. Get the answer. Move forward. I read that one once, I'm sure of it."

"You've read it four times, now keep the other note in your glove box in case you get lost." Jean wasn't taking no for an answer, which Scott found rare. Whenever she got this way, he knew better than to go against it.

On his way to Anchorage for his fourth appointment, Scott was glad to be driving there on his own. It was his second time driving that week. The first time was to the gas station, where he learned that he wasn't ready to leave the house without taking a note with him. He drove past the gas station and into Wasilla and almost ran out of gas before he pulled into a station, nervous at how low the meter was. From there he went home, but he couldn't remember if it was because there wasn't anything else to do, or because he forgot something he had been asked to get.

"Everything's fine if I just keep a note," Scott said.

When he made it into Anchorage, he pulled out his note to read it at the first stop light. "Chang's office, third left after small airport, turn right just before —"

BEEP! BEEEEEEP!

"Yikes! I'm going. Sorry about that." Scott dropped the note, embarrassed that he didn't see the light change. He drove past the small airport and pulled into a restaurant with a bright pink exterior. "Now why was I here?" asked Scott.

He reached into his glove box, wondering if his mom had left him a note.

"Nothing," he said. "Well, now I'm really confused, but I can't jump out of my truck and start asking strangers why I'm here." Scott looked further down the road and saw a fast food restaurant with a large bell on the sign. "Aren't they building one of those in Wasilla? Maybe I'll check out that taco place now before the Wasilla one gets finished. When I'm in this much doubt, I'll just assume I went out for food. After all, I would have needed to get food anyway regardless of what I forgot or remembered."

He turned around in the parking lot and when the road was clear, he rejoined the traffic, only to drive several hundred feet to the next parking lot. "I really ought to park there if I'm this forgetful," he said to himself. "Also, if I just ate and didn't remember, I would feel full, so I'll never make a big mistake with that."

*****

"Where were you, Scott? I left you a note in the glove box so that you wouldn't forget." Jean's suspicions had come true.

Scott began to worry. If he angered his parents, they couldn't trust him to drive on his own for a long time.

"I didn't see a note in there. You can look if you want, but I saw nothing," said Scott.

Jean put on some tennis shoes and walked outside, rubbing her arms with her hands to compensate for not wearing a coat. She pulled open the passenger door and opened the glove box. Scott stood inside the house, looking through the open front door.

If she's that sure she left me a note, she probably did and I didn't find it, he thought.

She got into the truck and her head disappeared from view. Scott approached the truck and opened the other door. There he saw his mom, lying face down on the seats, holding a white piece of paper in her left hand. Scott felt his heart fall without a parachute into his gut.

"I screwed up, didn't I?"

Robert made it home from work, and Jean told Scott to go upstairs before he came in. "I'll talk to him. He probably already knows you missed your appointment."

Scott rushed upstairs and vanished into Phillip's room.

The second the front door opened, Scott was hidden away from view. That was close, Scott told himself, trying to minimize the negative self-talk that came into his mind ever since he forgot his appointment.

"Hi, honey, how was —"

"I can't talk to you right now, Jean. I have to make a phone call."

Scott heard every footstep as Robert made his way to the telephone, which was lying on a table just next to the sofa. All the while, Scott was glad he could hear what was going on between his parents, but afraid that any confrontation that would arise would be entirely his fault.

"Dr. Chang, this is Robert." Scott's father remained silent for several seconds. Scott wondered if Chang was angry; he was talking for a long time.

"No problem. I was glad to introduce you to Senator Barnum. I heard he was not going to run another term, so now would be a good time for you to run. No incumbent."

"I hate it when he interrupts my mom like that. Still, why would he do that to talk about politics?" Scott whispered to himself.

"I'm glad to hear that you're working together. In a few years, you'll have to move then! Yes, yes, I know he didn't make it, Phillip called me at my office."

Wouldn't he be mad right now? Scott couldn't believe how friendly his dad sounded.

"Well, we all make mistakes. Maybe he can, I don't know, tape reminders to his steering wheel so he doesn't drop them. He is basically handicapped now, so you can't really depend on him without micromanaging, but I think..." Robert stopped to let Chang finish his thoughts.

"Yeah, I know, he probably will end up bagging groceries for the rest of his life, or doing some brain-dead labor with several bosses babysitting him, but he can at least be glad to be alive. He'll be at the next appointment, and if he isn't, it's backseat transportation from then on." Robert laughed before saying goodbye and setting the phone back on its receiver.

Scott snuck out the door of Phillip's room and turned the corner towards his own room.

"Scott?" Scott heard his dad's voice, but chose to ignore it.

"Robert, I need to talk to you about some things," said Jean. Robert was on the balls of his feet, ready to follow his son upstairs, but decided against it.

Scott disappeared from view, slamming the door to his room. Behind the door, he sank down to his knees. He had expected the door to slam, or at least for the door to close, but the carpet slowed the door, keeping it from reaching the doorframe. His hands shook, and he grasped the sides of his pants to stop the shaking. He leaned back against the door until he heard it click, then allowed the tears to come.
Chapter Five

Scott went to bed that night, still upset because of his father's words. He always had a feeling that he was meant to do something important in his life, and he refused to believe that he would go from being the foreman of his aunt's construction company, to a lifelong minimum wage laborer. It was like his father put him in the same category as the mentally handicapped, and knowing that his father had done this had kept Scott nervous, angry, and awake much longer than he had intended.

At long last, he finally found sleep. As sleep took over, Scott found himself in an unexpected place. No longer was he in an Alaskan home in early December, but in paradise.

He had gone from lying in his bed to being on his feet, rocking back and forth. He looked down; he was on the deck of a sailboat. There were islands visible on the horizon, with beaches and palm trees. Scott took a moment to breathe in the sea air and feel the sun warm the back of his T-shirt. The breeze was gentle, making him want to stretch rather than shiver. In the sea, several dolphins dove in and out of view, their paths weaving with precision in the clear water.

In front of him, a young woman stood at the bow, where the two railings met and joined together. She had long brown hair and was wearing a white, one-piece swimsuit with red shorts covering her smooth, well-toned legs.

Scott walked up to the front of the ship with the confidence of having known her for many years.

"Janet."

The girl turned to her right, resting both her elbows on the railing behind her. Her lips slowly turned into a smile that was almost too bright to look upon without sunglasses, but Scott was daring. He never thought he would see his favorite woman in the world again.

"The last time I saw you, we were flying through the air, trying to go somewhere. We got separated," said Scott. "What happened?"

"Nothing that happened was because of you. You didn't get to the other side of the cliff because it wasn't time for you yet."

"So Michael didn't leave me?" asked Scott.

"You're one of his. He never leaves one of his own behind. He'd create a new paradise and destroy anything that threatened your eternal happiness before he'd lose a single one of his."

"Yeah? Well, you're dead. I would have done the same for you if I was only stronger."

Scott grabbed onto the railing as the sailboat breached another wave, then turned around to face Janet again. Her eyes were full of compassion.

"I know. He knows. He created life, and he will bring it back when it is time." She ran her hand from his shoulder down to the top of his hand.

"You don't know what's been going on since the islands. I ran a company, I gave my friend a job, and I even helped my aunt become a millionaire when she sold her business. But, lately I've been having trouble."

The wind picked up, making the deck unstable. The two friends held on to the rails, moving closer to the mast of the ship so they wouldn't be blown overboard. Janet called out towards the wheel. "Michael!"

Scott then noticed a man wearing denim shorts and a white tank top standing behind the wheel. A loud gust of wind pushed him, attempting to knock him sideways. Michael, however, stood fi rm. He looked up at the gray clouds like a parent watching a child at play. "Okay, okay. Settle down now," he said. Instantly, the wind died down to a light breeze, the waves of the sea became gentle, and the gray clouds parted for the blue sky and sunshine from further up.

Scott turned his head from Michael back to Janet, pointing back at the man with his right hand. "Did he just change the...? Since it's him, I really shouldn't be surprised, should I?"

"The weather can be unpredictable can't it?" said Janet, laughing. She threw her arms around Scott and gave him a hug.

"Janet, why don't you take Scott below deck so he can explain things to you? Of course, I'm sure he would like some answers, too," said Michael.

The two climbed downstairs below deck. A padded bench was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. Next to the bench was a small kitchen. Beyond that, Scott could see several small bunks. Janet walked past the seats, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt lying on one of the bunks, and put them on before taking a seat. Scott sat down across from her.

"Tell me, Scott. What's been troubling you?"

"My mind won't work. At least, not the way it used to. I got into a car accident and I don't know how it's going to affect my future," said Scott.

"Michael said he had something for you to do. I trust him, and someday you will too. Don't get depressed about the future," said Janet.

"I do everything I can to follow Michael and trust him. Why couldn't he give a head injury to someone who ignores him?" asked Scott. He didn't want to spoil this special conversation he was having, yet he would waste a valuable opportunity if he ignored the questions weighing upon his heart.

"He doesn't work that way. Besides, he could be using the head injury to give you a perspective that will help people in the future. You still have a job to do, and one day you'll even find someone who you could marry..."

Scott couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Hey, that's my choice, isn't it? Besides, what if I chose someone who drowned in a shipwreck?"

"I'm just a memory, Scott. I've been dead ever since the shipwreck. Michael wanted you to remember me, and he needs you to know that you've got to stop living in the past."

Scott shuddered as he tried to take a deep breath. "I know, Janet. I know that. I just don't feel like I could love someone else like I love you."

Janet looked at him with compassion. "You love the memory of the times that we shared. Let's put on some jackets and go back upstairs."

"But isn't it the tropics?" asked Scott, confused.

Janet approached the side of the stairs, where several heavy coats hung on nearby hooks. She picked up one and put it on. "The weather's unpredictable, Scott. I told you that already. Besides, Michael is here, so I wouldn't be worried."

Scott followed her up the stairs with coat in hand. As he stepped out onto the deck, he scanned the waves. A thick, gray fog had moved in, making it nearly impossible to see. The temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees as well. Janet leaned against the mast, looking back at him. "You still don't have your coat on? Oh yeah, you're from Alaska, so you probably don't need it."

"Janet, listen to me. I'm serious."

Michael spoke up from behind the wheel. "She is, and we are, Scott. Look out at that sea. You'd be lucky if you could see even fifteen feet in this fog. For you to land safely, you will need to rely on an expert navigator who can see more than you can. You can trust me, I know these waters better than anyone. But of course, you're welcome to take the helm if you want."

Scott looked out at the sea again. He saw nothing, not even the sun. "It's okay, you can steer."

Janet smiled.

"I know it's hard, Scott. I understand," said Michael.

If you can, please think of your time with me as practice for the relationship you're going to have in the future. Michael doesn't want you to forget about what you've gained, spending time with me. Remember that deep down, it's all right there in your head." Janet gave Scott another hug. "If you want to remember, you're going to have to move forward with what you've been given and build on it."

"So you're saying I'll probably forget about you unless I keep practicing and using the relationship skills I have?"

"You'll forget the stuff that matters most, the gift of love. Right now, there's someone out there who is going to need what you've got."

The fog cleared, and Scott could see land just half a mile away. Up ahead, the port town of Whittier grew closer. Spruce trees seemed to glide past their ship as they approached the docks. Scott shivered and threw his coat on. "I'm back in Alaska," he said.

"So this is what you were telling me about on the islands. Even if it's just a dream, I'm glad you had the chance to show me," said Janet.

As the boat cut its way through the water, Scott felt the pressure inside of him decrease. He knew that he needed to let go of loving Janet. His grieving process had gone full circle. Still, he thought, I really miss the Marshalls and I'd like to go back.

"Thank you," said Scott. "Thank you for being there when you were alive. I need to trust that God won't leave me, just like you said."

They watched the boat get closer until it touched the dock. "Alright, off you go, Scott," said Janet. Scott walked up to the edge of the boat. He turned back to see Janet and Michael standing side-by-side, waving goodbye. He took a deep breath and jumped onto the dock.

"God is with you, don't worry about your dad, don't worry about Dr. Chang, don't let the fog depress you. God is with you," said Janet.

Scott walked down the dock on his way back to shore, hearing every comforting word that Janet sent his way.

Scott woke up. From his bed, he could still hear the wind blowing outside his window. It was already daybreak, and he was sweating. He sat up, and scanned the still-barren room. "I really miss the Marshalls," he whispered.

*****

Scott walked down the stairs, turning around at the landing to descend the second staircase that led to the basement.

Where are they? he thought.

There were two rooms downstairs, and only one had boxes all over the place; that would be the one he was looking for. Opening the door, he saw boxes stacked on the left, right, and center of the rooms. Between them were two paths, stretching to the back wall, so all the boxes could be reached quickly. Scott rummaged through the first set of boxes in the center. He found old clothes belonging to Phillip.

"Not in here," he muttered.

Scott had felt rotten ever since waking up from his dream. He still wasn't able to accept Janet's death, and it wasn't the first time a dream had brought this to his attention. The greater reason for his sadness, however, was that his dream made him miss the Marshall Islands, where the islanders gave him shells and other homemade trinkets as farewell gifts. These were the things Scott was looking for, and he was determined to find them.

Meow! Scott heard a black cat cry out before it dashed into a corner behind the washing machine. He sneezed. Why did my family ever get that cat? he thought. The litter box lay behind him in the next room. It was the first time he had seen the cat since coming home from the hospital. At least it's down here where I rarely go, and not in my room.

He checked another set of boxes, only to find Christmas cards that his mom had saved from previous years. He sneezed again. By the time he went through several boxes of quilting supplies, Scott was ready to ask his parents. A tear ran down his face as he imagined what he would say. He knew that crying would not be a wise thing to do in front of his father, so he returned to his room, passing by his father who was eating breakfast and talking with his mother about his campaign.

Back in his room, Scott fell down on his knees in front of his bed, burying his head in the softness of his pillow.

I'll never go back, and those are the only things I have left that prove I was there. How much of it will I remember in another month? A year? Scott could not control the panic as his mind envisioned himself a year older, with no recollection of what had happened in his life.

I can't live with my mind as blank as the walls in this room, he thought. "I'm going to look again, starting in my closet."

Scott opened his closet door and found none of the things he was looking for. He didn't expect them to be there, but was just passing time until his father left for work.

Upon hearing the front door close, Scott walked downstairs again to look for his lost treasures.

"What are you up to, Scott?"

"I'm looking for my... uh... things from my... in a... and now... can't find them." The sound of his own distress surprised even him, but his mother didn't even see it coming.

"Stop, Scott. Speak slowly and tell me what you're looking for."

"I'm looking for... sorry... I'm looking for things... they are gone." Scott walked downstairs to the basement, followed by his mom. "My things... gone. They were moved!"

"I can't help you if you don't speak clearly, Scott. You're making me nervous."

By now, Scott was looking through boxes in the basement again, shoving aside each box that didn't have what he was looking for. "Islands... things... you moved... where are they?" He sneezed several times in succession.

"I moved your stuff. Is that what this is about?" Jean was getting closer, but the more nervous Scott became, the less understandable he was.

"Don't move my stuff! You can't... now I'll never... I'll never... come back!"

Scott's mother wanted to leave. She had never seen her son so upset. She was also afraid that Scott would start destroying what was in the boxes out of frustration. He shoved the boxes just a little bit harder each time, and as he searched, he became less concerned with making sure the boxes were on the ground before letting them go.

"This is our stuff, Scott. Stop treating it like a baggage handler."

She began to cry.

This was the first thing Scott had done in over a year that made him feel the shadow of guilt. It was a dark feeling that couldn't be reasoned with. Scott stopped moving the boxes and stood staring with tear-filled eyes at his mom.

"I'll find what you're looking for. It's your things from the islands, right?"

Scott nodded his head, ashamed of his outburst.

"I know where they are. I'll put them all in your room today."

"Don't move my stuff." Scott made his way back to the staircase. As he got close to his mom, he threw his arms around her, hugging her close.

"I'm sorry."

*****

Tiffany knocked on the door of Scott's room. She heard no answer, so she knocked again, cracking the door slightly.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Go ahead," said Scott in a monotone voice.

Tiffany walked in to find Scott sitting on the bed cross-legged. An open box sat to his right, and in front of him were a wide variety of seashells. As she drew closer, she saw that Scott was holding a brightly colored conch shell in his hands. She sat down next to him and hugged him with one arm.

Scott lifted the shell he was holding so she could see it. "I got this shell when I arrived on the islands. We were swimming in the bay. After lunch, we went spear fishing and I used my spear to pick up this shell underwater. I kept it on my spear the entire trip. It was such a nice shell, I didn't care if I found fish that day or not." Scott set the shell down with the others, but didn't look up.

"It's a beautiful shell, Scott. I'm glad you found it." Tiffany leaned forward to get a closer look. It was completely smooth and was a yellow color with streaks of black that moved in capricious lines all around it.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing at the woven mat lying on top of a closed suitcase.

"That's my map. Some islanders made it for me when they found out I was leaving. Each island is marked by a shell attached to the mat. They told me that with it, I might one day come back," said Scott. He sniffed, trying to avoid crying again. His nose and eyes were already red from the night before and from the outburst he had that morning with his mom.

"You really miss the islands, don't you?" said Tiffany. She rubbed his back slowly.

"It's not just that," said Scott. "It feels like I won't ever go back. Or go anywhere else. I can't even drive to Anchorage and remember why I drove there in the first place. My dad still doesn't respect me; he was saying things about me to Chang last night."

"Do you remember what kind of things?" she asked.

"Well, no. Not really. Even if I did, I don't think I want to talk about it."

Scott looked down at the shells once more, picking up the large yellow conch shell. "I found this shell when I first got to the Marshall Islands. We went fishing with spears and I found it in the water. I didn't even care about the fish because it was so beautiful." Tiffany sighed. "Okay, Scott. Thank you for sharing."

"So, what are you going to do today?"

"You told me how you haven't been making very many choices, so I thought you could choose where I take you for lunch today. Would you like that?"

"Yeah," said Scott. "Lets try the Italian place we passed by last week."

"You mean next to where I get my hair cut?" she asked.

Scott nodded. "I think so."

Tiffany rose to her feet, eager to let Scott forget about his depression. "Let's go, then. I'm hungry." He got to his feet slowly. As Tiffany made her way towards the door, she looked back over her shoulder to see that Scott hadn't followed her.

"You coming?" she asked.

Scott held up the shell again. "Did I tell you about how I got this shell?"

"You did. Can you set it down so it will be there when you get back? I have a few things I want to show you."

*****

The two had lunch at the restaurant Scott chose. The bistro was nearly empty, and they sat in a corner booth where they could talk privately.

"I have something for you," said Tiffany. She reached into her large black purse and pulled out a hardcover green book with the word Journal etched into the front. "Remember this?" she asked.

Scott's eyed widened. "Matthew's journal. I thought it disappeared when I brought it to the police."

"Several weeks after Owen died, I got a call from the police. They had recovered some of the borrowed money that he embezzled from the company, along with his belongings, and returned this journal. They weren't going to put him on trial if he was dead, so they didn't want any of the evidence. Matthew would have wanted you to have it, so it's yours now."

Scott took the journal. Several of the pages were dogeared from being read over and over. More than half of the book still had blank pages, which he flipped through slowly.

"You don't really have any place to put your feelings, or any way to work them out. I want you to write in this journal."

"Are you sure?" he asked. To Scott, this was a relic, a priceless book that he didn't trust himself to keep. "Aren't you afraid I'll lose it?"

"I think the importance that the journal has for you will act as a reminder where a normal journal wouldn't. Besides, the journal has already done its job: teaching us the three legs of trust, and finding the truth behind Matthew and Owen. If you lose it, you can always get another one, so I trust you to have it."

"I had almost forgotten about the three legs of trust. I haven't seen Tim for what feels like forever," said Scott.

"Well, you can come to church on Sundays with me. We'll have an early lunch and then go to church either before or after."

Scott hesitated. He knew his father disliked Tim, but that wouldn't keep Tiffany from visiting with him. "Um. Okay. Thanks, Tiff."

"I want to you to do something for me. Write in this journal. Write in it every day, whenever you feel like it. Also, write every night without fail. I will be reminding you daily. After you write, read it in the morning. That way, you'll remember what people said, what you said, and how you felt the day before. That should smooth over a lot of the issues you seem to struggle with right now."

"That's a great idea," said Scott. He kept a firm grip on the journal.

"Tonight I want you to write in the first blank page you see. I also have a message in there for you, full of ideas that you can reread as much as you like. I think it will help you," said Tiffany.

Scott knew his aunt must have spent a lot of time thinking this out. He felt that if he did what she said with the journal, he would function better. Some people might not even notice he had a head injury. Tiffany's gift to him was the best present he could have ever received.

"Thank you, Tiffany."
Chapter Six

Scott went upstairs to his room for the night. On his pillow was a green book with a yellow note stuck to it. He picked up the book and read the note. _"Read last page and write before you go to bed. Love, Tiffany."_ Scott remembered how his aunt had given him the journal, and how it would remind him of his thoughts and activities from day to day. He lay down on the bed, and opened the journal to the last page of writing he could find.

December 2nd, 1993

Dearest Scott,

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I'm thankful for what you've done for me, both with my business and in my life. Now it is time for me to help you.

For one thing, my house is always open to you. Whenever you are stressed out from home and want to take a break, come visit me. You can even use one of the extra bedrooms in my house if you want to stay longer. I love having friends over whenever I can, so don't hesitate to visit.

Here are some things I want you to remember that will help you:

In my business, sometimes I use sticky notes. They are the yellow square pieces of paper that can stick wherever you place them. By placing these notes in places where you will always see them, you can read what you've written to remind yourself of things you need to do. Keep them in just a few places so you'll always know where to go for reminders.

One example is the steering wheel of your truck. If you write the date, time and location of where you need to be and what you need to do there, you won't lose your way when driving around. If you do this, you will never miss an appointment again.

Keep several stacks of these yellow notes in your car, bathroom counter, and bedroom. I have a few near the book if you look around your pillow —

Scott looked around for the notes. Lifting his pillow, he found several sets of them. Retrieving a pen from his pants pocket, he wrote on the first page of two stacks: "Put whole stack in car." On the others he wrote: "Put whole stack in bathroom," and "Put whole stack near bedroom wall." After finishing, he continued reading.

I love you, Tim loves you, and you still have friends who care about you.

Remember that God loves you, and never leaves any of His children behind.

Write in the journal every night. If it helps, leave a sticky note on the cover of the journal, reminding you to leave it on your pillow every night, to write in it daily, and to always keep it in your car, on your pillow, or living room table during the day so you'll never lose it.

Ask your mom to help keep track of it for you. Having someone hold you accountable is always a good thing.

Reread my note here every day, as well as what you had written the previous night on each day.

I hope these notes can help you live a fuller, more satisfying life. I'll be seeing you later.

-Tiffany

Scott looked up from his bed. This has got to be the best present I have ever received, he thought. He turned his head towards the open bedroom door.

"Mom! I've got something I need you to read."

*****

The next day, Scott was in Chang's office, trying to learn more about his condition.

Chang leaned forward in his chair, intrigued by Scott's story.

"You yelled at your mom. That isn't surprising, but we don't want to be doing that."

"I know. I know. I feel guilty about it. I was just mad because I was afraid I would forget about the Marshall Islands, and I was upset because of my dream," said Scott, rubbing his forehead with his hand. He was lying down on the couch this time, as Chang wanted him to be more relaxed.

"It sounds like these feelings are causing a lot of pain. I know it sounds unusual, but I would like to suggest we explore these feelings again in greater detail. By understanding them better, you may be able to reduce the number of angry outbursts you have been having."

Scott looked sideways at his psychologist, raising one eyebrow. "How would you do that?"

"That depends a lot on you. Some people are comfortable telling me what they have been going through step by step, as a detailed story. Others are comfortable trying a roleplaying scenario. These would be more challenging with your situation, but maybe if you wrote things down soon after they happened, we can make the best progress."

"Well," said Scott, "my aunt gave me a journal yesterday. I wasn't planning on using it for therapy, only so that I'll remember things better."

Chang smiled. "Your aunt was doing something right. I recommend you write about these outbursts, these experiences you have been having. You can copy the page where you wrote about the outburst by hand or by photocopy machine. That way, you will only bring in the information you want, and the rest of the diary is your own private matter."

Scott nodded. If he did that, he wouldn't get mad as much and he would remember the things that he and Chang had talked about.

Maybe my dad had a point about Chang knowing his stuff, thought Scott.

"This hasn't been the first time I've gotten upset since the car accident, but this time with my mom was definitely the worst one so far. If you can write me a note, then I'll read it when I'm writing in the journal. It's a good idea," said Scott.

"I will. Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

Scott sat up, trying to remember. Nothing came to mind. As he glanced at Chang, the psychologist offered a suggestion. "Maybe check your pockets. You may have written something."

Scott stood up and reached into the pockets of his jeans. Finding a yellow note, he took it out and read it. "Is it possible to program the subconscious?"

"That's a good question," said Chang. He walked over to his desk and pulled out a plastic figurine of a Dalmatian. He handed it to Scott, who took it and looked at the dog. "You remember what I told you about Pavlov's dog?"

Scott searched his mind. "The dog." He paused, feeling the four-legged figurine in his hands. "The dog... there was a bell... and food. He drooled when the bell rang. When the bell rang, and there... no food, then he... he..."

"You're very close. He drooled because he associated food, a pleasurable experience, with the ringing of a bell.

That conditioned response remained even when the food was taken away."

"That's it," said Scott, snapping his fingers.

"You may not be able to change what has already been programmed, but you can still influence where your mind will go by your choices. The big problem is that as a child becomes an adult, many of those choices have already been made and are there to stay."

"You did tell me that," said Scott, handing the dog back to Chang. "If something bad happened continually for, say, five years of your childhood, can't you program the opposite by doing something for 10 years, starting now?"

"Those studies are inconclusive. To prove that, one would need to measure a group of people based on one mindset for many years, then purposefully try to override their mind for even more years. You're raising a lot of ethical concerns if you are doing that. Plus, the programming you receive as a child continues when you are an adult. Your subconscious is acting much more frequently than your conscious."

Scott seemed disappointed. He didn't like the idea that people were stuck where they were by no fault of their own.

"In your specific situation, I would say no. Even if you could in theory, you would need to act consciously against your natural bent for years, and you would need to do it at a rate exceeding what your subconscious is still acting upon without your awareness. You don't have the conscious memory to do something like that anymore. It's a waste of time. On top of that, programming is often based on pain and pleasure, like food for the dog here."

Chang held up the Dalmatian in his right hand and continued. "Those programs we operate out of are there because they helped us avoid pain and discomfort, or to help us gain pleasure, comfort and survival. Where are you going to find stronger motivations to change?"

"So what do you do with all this knowledge you have? People are stuck and that's it?" asked Scott.

Chang rose to his feet, setting the dog on his desk before explaining. "Happiness, Scott. That's my motivation. If you cannot overcome something, why spend time struggling when you could be spending that time having fun? I help people accept what they can do and what they cannot do, and then they can enjoy their lives. That's what psychology means to me, understanding the walls erected by science, and directing the mind towards a state of bliss."

He returned to where Scott was sitting and shook his hand. "And that's all the time we have for today, Scott."

*****

Using the sticky notes proved more valuable to Scott than he had anticipated. He had made it on time to his appointment with Chang, and now he was at the supermarket back in his hometown, looking for something to eat. After he bought a sandwich from the deli counter, he made his way to the cafe next door.

The cafe was warm and inviting, and Scott approached a chair and table near the back so he could distance himself from the cold wind outside. On the table was part of an issue of the Frontiersman, the local town newspaper. He picked it up, folding it so he could move it to the table next to him, when a picture caught his eye. Upon seeing it, he changed his mind, and set it back down at his table.

Scott pulled out a chair to sit down, and unwrapped his sandwich as he began reading.

*****

Mayor Thompson Challenged by New Candidate

We all predicted that Mayor Thompson would have no strong competition for a second term in office. This was before it was announced that Robert Calloway decided to enter the race.

Who is Robert Calloway? He was born in Alaska in 1946, back when our fair state was still a U.S. territory. The son of a college professor, he went on to graduate from the University of Idaho, later acquiring his PhD in Psychology.

Since then, he has established a psychology practice of his own that has been serving the Valley area for 17 years.

While he is new to city government, he is actively involved with the Wasilla Chamber of Commerce.

In addition to a successful professional life, he is also a family man. He and his wife, Jean Ellis Calloway, have two sons who grew up in Wasilla, and graduated from Wasilla High School three and five years ago.

"I am very proud of my family. I do my best to set an example that they can respect," said Robert in a recent interview.

His outlook is one of personal optimism, even in light of the fact that his youngest son, Scott, was the victim of a car accident several weeks ago. "He may never fully recover, as his brain was bruised near the part responsible for conscious thought. As a result, I know even more about the needs of special needs children and their parents. Bad things happen, but you've got to keep moving forward."

Keep reading The Frontiersman for updates on the race for mayor, and more information on both candidates.

*****

Scott's hand gripped the paper tightly, causing it to wrinkle at the ends. He tried to fold it up, but a crease in the middle made it look worse, so he quickly tossed it onto the nearest table next to him.

I thought my life was private. Why does the whole town have to know things like this? My dad is making my life too public with this campaign of his.

Scott tore into the sandwich, wanting to just finish it and leave. He was embarrassed to be seen anywhere, and just wanted someplace to hide.

*****

Tiffany had just finished a late breakfast at her home the next day when a she heard a knock on the door. Opening it, she saw a skinny young man with a red afro, carrying a large duffel bag in his left hand.

"Scott! I'm glad you decided to visit."

Scott walked inside, taking off his shoes and carrying his duffel bag into the living room.

"Though it looks like this isn't just a visit," said Tiffany, glancing down at the bag he was holding. Scott sat down on the couch, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Thank you for inviting me in your journal. I read it yesterday, and I guess the day before too. Speaking of which, you're probably wondering why I have this duffel bag."

Scott opened the top zipper and pulled out his green journal, flipping it over to the last page he had written.

"Last night," said Scott, "I read in the newspaper an article about my dad. In the article, Robert tells the interviewer about my head injury, talking to him as if I'm mentally retarded." He looked to the bottom of the journal entry where a note in his handwriting was sticking out of the page. He smiled. "It says never live there again." He turned the journal around, allowing the writing to face Tiffany, who walked closer to examine it.

"Remember the three legs of trust? My dad clearly doesn't have them for me. I don't want you to get in a fight with my dad, but I'd really like to stay here, much more than over there."

Tiffany knew what he meant, and had to agree. "We'll find a way to make it work," she said.

Scott stood up and wrapped his arms around his aunt in a firm hug. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"I'm glad the journal was helpful. Have a seat and let me make you some breakfast."

Tiffany went over to her refrigerator and opened it up, pulling out a dozen eggs. "I hope an omelet will get the job done for you."

"Oh, it will," said Scott.

Tiffany cracked several eggs and began beating the yolks in a mixing bowl. "I have a question, Scott. When was the last time you spent time with friends?"

Scott was surprised by the question. "You're my friend."

"I know, Scott. But I meant people your own age." Scott couldn't remember the last time he had. He knew he had gone skiing with Mark, but he was trying to remember if there was anything else. "I don't know."

"I think it's important you have a circle of friends you can spend time with. Three, twelve, and seventy, remember? Maybe we can arrange something with Mark and several other people."

"Maybe. That sounds good." In addition to avoiding people he couldn't trust, Scott knew his life would get better if he could surround himself with people he could enjoy spending time with. He just hadn't done anything like that since the Marshall Islands.

As Tiffany began frying the eggs, Scott heard the sound of a crying infant. He looked at his aunt. "What's going on, Tiff?" His aunt smiled, then motioned for Scott to come over to the kitchen.

"Can you watch these for me and keep them from getting burnt?" she asked. Scott nodded and picked up a spatula. She quickly left him in the kitchen, and within seconds he could hear her voice trying to soothe the cries of the baby.

I've never known Tiffany to have kids. I wonder what this is about, he thought. He had known her all his life, and had worked for her late husband. Not once did they care for a baby in their home.

Tiffany returned to the living room with the baby in her arms. "Scott. I'd like you to meet Rachel. She's the daughter of a friend of mine who is staying here for a while." After laying the baby on a blanket on the floor and setting plastic toy in her lap, Tiffany returned to the kitchen to take over for Scott. He knelt down beside the baby, who was now laughing and playing with what looked like a small, pink convertible.

"Hey, baby Rachel," he said with an airy, slightly higher-pitched voice. He looked up at Tiffany. "How old is she?"

"Just turned six months old a few weeks ago," said Tiffany. "Play with her if you want, she likes people." He didn't know if he ever wanted to have kids, but he loved other people's kids, especially the clean, healthy baby girl smiling up at him. "Does she have any other toys?"

After finishing the omelet that Tiffany had made, Scott played with Rachel for almost an hour. He showed Rachel different things around the house, pretending the objects had different uses than what they were originally designed for. Just as he was showing Rachel how useful a pot was as a hat, the front door opened behind him.

"Hello?"

Scott turned around, taking off his metal helmet and laying it on the floor.

"Don't I know you?" he asked.

The young woman walked over to the dining room table and set her purse down. She then knelt down to pick up her baby. "Maybe, you look familiar. Are you Scott?"

"Yeah," he said, getting to his feet.

Tiffany emerged from what used to be her home office, which now looked more like a nursery. She half-hugged the blonde girl, tickling Rachel just under the neck. "This is the nephew I was telling you about. My brother's son."

"Pleased to meet you." She smiled coyly before moving to the couch with her baby. "Has she had anything to eat?"

"She's fine, Stephanie. She's just ate and was changed a few minutes ago."

"Didn't you go to my school?" asked Scott, staring confused at the girl in front of him.

She turned her head slightly to the side, then smiled. "I think so, I graduated here in Wasilla, so if you went to the high school here, you went to the same school as me."

"Stephanie... Stephanie Jackson?" asked Scott.

"That's who I am," said Stephanie. "Your brother Phillip was one grade ahead of me."

"Okay," said Scott, knowing she was probably a year older than him. "Yeah, everyone knows Phillip."

"Scott is going to be spending some time here." Said Tiffany. "He has helped me a lot, and now I'm helping him go through some...transitions." Stephanie nodded understandingly, half-preoccupied with her baby. "Anyway, I've got to go get some groceries and visit someone. I'll be back soon." Tiffany put on her coat and left.

*****

December, 4 1993

Dear Journal,

This week has been crazy. I just got back from another appointment with Doctor Chang and can barely remember what happened so I can write about it. I know we talked more about anger, and he says that since it is harder for me to remember techniques to manage my anger as it happens, I need to quickly move through to what he calls 'acceptance' of my situation. He says that this is what he wants to accomplish and that I will get less angry when that happens.

I met a girl living with my aunt today. She was one of the most popular girls in school when I went there, and she almost never talked to me. My brother was usually the popular one, and I was his brother. Anyway, she has a really cute baby girl named Rachel, and it looks like we are going to hang out more often, especially since I am living here too.

I'm going to church tomorrow with my aunt. I asked the girl if she wanted to come but she said she had to work that day. Oh well, it will still be great to see Tim again.

*****

Tim's church was just outside of town. The parking lot was nearly packed, and there were rumors of a plan to remove the trees to the left of the building the following summer in order to accommodate the increase in attendance.

It was a tan-colored building, with large panes of glass the size of a man on either side of the entrance to the building. In front of the door was a large awning that protected people from the weather.

During the service, Tiffany and Scott listened to their friend Tim, a tall, bearded pastor, as he delivered that week's sermon.

Several seats away, Tim's son, Mark, waved once at Scott, glad to see that his friend was functioning and healthy. Scott didn't see him, however, and kept his focus on Tim, who was talking about the early church from the book of Acts.

When the sermon had ended, a group of people crowded their pastor, who was eager to listen to every one of them, making each individual feel important. Scott sat in the chair he was in, staring at the crowd surrounding the man until Mark approached him.

"Hi, Scott. I'm glad to see you're awake and okay."

Scott looked up. Mark looked worried, but no less healthy. He still had the natural athletic look he would have had, even without all the activities he did. He was well groomed and a smooth talker, with all the social intelligence and none of the quirkiness of his father.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just, um, am doing okay," said Scott, not wanting to embarrass himself by talking too much about his situation. "How is your girlfriend?"

"Amy's almost a hundred percent now. I haven't told you yet, but she is the manager of the Wasilla part of the construction company. Since your aunt sold it, I'm in charge of making sure the plans are carried out on the projects. So I see her even more now because she spends half her time here in town."

"That's nice."

He overheard the voice of the pastor close by. Looking around, Scott saw Tim several feet away, talking to Tiffany.

"I'll be seeing you later, okay, Scott?" Mark asked.

"Okay, Mark, I'll see you later."

Tiffany's voice was easily heard from where Scott sat. "I don't know, Tim."

"There is a strong difference between the way you've experienced Bible study as a child, and the way you could experience Bible study now. Closing that gap will be one of the best choices you've ever made. I'll call you and talk about it later."

"Thanks, Tim."

Tim's eyes brightened when he noticed that Scott wasn't busy. "Scott," said Tim. "Don't leave without letting me talk to you." He beckoned for Scott with his right hand.

As Scott joined them, he saw Tim look at Tiffany with the same look that caused thousands of parents all over the country to buy their children a puppy dog. Scott dared to think Tim could win a child's heart faster than a golden retriever ever could. Tiffany could only resist for a moment before laughing.

"You're dangerous when you do that, Tim!" said Tiffany. Scott's aunt regained her composure and told him what was going on. "Tim thought I should start doing Bible studies at my house. We could invite people over, like Mark and his girlfriend. It would also help Stephanie, who has to work and often misses church. What do you think?"

"That sounds great, Tiff. When will it happen?"

"Next week if you want, and if you can think of anyone else to invite, let me know." Tiffany turned back towards Tim, who looked very satisfied. "Since your son is in on this, he's also welcome to invite anyone he wants."

Tim agreed. "It's going to be fine."
Chapter Seven

"I grew up going to church," Tiffany said. Scott looked at his aunt, who was driving him back to her house. "I don't remember you telling me about that."

"That's because I haven't. Your dad probably didn't mention it either."

Tiffany continued. "Your dad and I grew up together, of course. Our parents both went to church, but only to avoid the blazing fires of hell, as my mom called it."

"You both stopped though?" asked Scott.

"Your dad stopped right about the time he was in high school. I stopped when I moved out of my parents' home, several years after I graduated. He stopped because he hated being controlled; it was like he felt the fires of hell lick at his churchgoing feet before he even grew up. I stopped going after seeing enough people accept Jesus, only to live their lives as they had before. Eventually I just saw churchgoers as no different from non-churchgoers, except the non-churchgoers had less fear."

"What made you come back?" he asked as Tiffany turned down the street to her house.

"Matthew did, but I didn't know it at the time. Then you and Tim. You both showed me there was a way to do what God says because you love people, not because of fear. I guess I'm still afraid, though, because it took Tim a while to convince me to start Bible studies."

"Don't worry, Tiff. I'll help you. Next week will be fun."

*****

Given the choice, Scott would have preferred a Bible study with his aunt, but for now he was in the office of Doctor Chang. It looks like friends, family, and fun will have to wait, Scott thought.

"There are phases that we all go through on our way to living with reality. You've heard of denial? Haven't you?"

Scott nodded. "Is that what we're going to talk about?"

"Not yet. Denial is just one of what we see as five phases. The five are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. These used to be applied just to those who experienced the death of a loved one, but I've noticed that they are present in every situation involving loss. I would write those five words down so you can read them before our next appointment."

"Which one am I in?" asked Scott.

"All of them," said Chang, without hesitation. Scott hadn't expected his psychologist to say that he was experiencing more than one phase at a time, let alone all five. "Can you explain that?"

"I would be glad to. It will help you move more towards acceptance and possibly reduce some of the anger and depression you have.

"You are grieving many things, Scott. You are going through grief about the injury from your car accident, the death of this woman you have strong ties to, and your decreased freedom to travel as a result of your head injury. On top of that, you are worried about whether your memory will be wiped clean, with all traces of your journey to the Marshall Islands forgotten. Those islands seem to me like the place where you were happiest. Lastly, you are grieving the decrease in your ability to work and provide an income for yourself."

Scott never heard the full laundry list of things his brain was dealing with in one sitting. It was depressing and amazing to him at the same time. "Is that all?" he asked.

Chang gave a small chuckle. "Far from it. These are just the most prominent things in your life right now. There may be hundreds of things, even thousands. This is the deep end of psychology, and your feet just failed to touch bottom. My job right now is to deal with some of these big things, draining the pool of grief so that you can walk further, exploring as much as you like."

"So why am I everywhere?" asked Scott.

"There are two large answers that I can give you. Just stay focused as best you can and I will try to keep from over-explaining."

Scott ran a hand through his hair. "Explain away."

"Number one. When you ask what stage you're in and I tell you all of them, remember that with any issue I've just mentioned, you are going through several stages at once. It is easily possible to be in denial of one part of your head injury, while depressed or even embarrassed about other parts. Embarrassment, for example, represents a degree of awareness and acceptance, but the wrong circumstances could easily turn it to anger or bargaining. You may be in 40% denial, 15% acceptance, and 30% anger, with the rest divided between depression and bargaining. The first answer, to put it simply, is that your mind has filtered some parts better than others when it comes to any issue. If you were to write down my answer, that would be it."

Scott took a piece of paper, which was now a commonplace activity in his sessions with Chang, and wrote down the question and answer.

"Let me know when you're ready," said Chang.

*****

Scott motioned that he was almost done, and within several seconds he had the information he wanted. Later that night, he planned on copying everything to his journal. He kept staring down at the paper as Chang waited patiently. "Sorry," he said, "I just had to reread my question. You said there were two answers. What is the other?"

"The other answer is that each issue you are dealing with has its own process that your brain is putting it through. I try to move along the process, and some people can do it quite well on their own, but when you ask me which stage you are in, I can just as easily respond with the question: which issue are you referring to? Once again, the answer is that I don't know unless you tell me which issue you want to work through, otherwise I can only guess where you are in general, giving you very little to really think about."

"So how do you move people along?" asked Scott. Chang pointed to the paper again. Scott clicked his pen and began writing the question.

"We don't have much more time and I don't want to overwhelm you, so I'll keep this short as well. You have already experienced some of it in my sessions and you still will.

"These phases we go through, that everyone goes through, aren't just eliminated once dealt with. Expect a roller coaster experience, in which you find yourself back at anger, or depression, or any other step. We often need to go through the process several times before our brains can accept the reality we face. These roller coaster rides from phase to phase start to make a pattern. A thought pattern. This is another deep end I work in: saying things and exploring feelings so that you will go through the pattern several times. Eventually, you will stay at the acceptance phase more frequently and for a longer time. Here's your answer, so write it down. You go through recurring patterns of thought like the track of a roller coaster. The more you ride the track to the end, where acceptance is the stopping point, the healthier you will be."

*****

At the beginning of the next week, Scott was eager to get started with the Bible study. Any hope Tiffany may have harbored for a forgetful nephew was in vain. Scott had reminded her every day, though she didn't know whether his prompting came from his own memory or the journal she had given him, which he used every night without fail.

"Mark and Amy should be coming in half an hour, Scott. We told them six, right?"

"Six o'clock," said Scott.

"Can you do me a favor? I need you to go to the grocery store to get bread for me. I'm making sandwiches for everyone." Tiffany approached Scott, who was playing with Rachel while Stephanie sat in a nearby chair, reading a magazine. "Scott?"

"Huh?" Scott looked at her.

"Here's a note. I need you to go to the store to buy bread."

"Yeah, sure," said Scott. He took the note, while Tiffany took baby Rachel.

He descended the steps away from his aunt's house and approached his truck. The handle was frozen shut. "Ouch," he said aloud, as the cold metal tried to latch onto his skin. "I really ought to wear gloves." He wanted to be on time, however, and folded the note in his right hand, putting it in his jeans pocket. With both hands free, he pulled the sleeve of the coat over his hand before trying again. The door popped open and he started the engine.

Scott sat in the truck, wanting it to warm up, but he also didn't want to keep his aunt waiting. Compromising, he only waited a minute before putting it into gear.

In town, he drove down the main highway, admiring the banners that were put up yearly on the light posts. He passed the clock tower in the center of town, admiring the lights that were recently fixed to the front, the grocery store full of customers trying to get home from their errands, and around to the public library, fully decorated but closed for the day.

Suddenly, Scott remembered what he needed to do. "Oh no, the small group starts at six and I'm not at Tiffany's house. I'd better get back as fast as possible. Tiffany told me she was making snacks and I don't want to miss out on that."

*****

Scott opened the door to Tiffany's house. Stephanie, Mark, Amy, and two more people had already arrived. Tiffany looked at Scott for several seconds, then made an announcement. "It looks like today I'm making peanut butter and crackers."

"Thanks, Tiffany, that sounds delicious." Scott sat down on a chair that had been brought into the living room. Stephanie tried to turn her giggle into a broad smile, but her face strained against her natural reaction to laugh.

"Are you okay, Stephanie? Your face is all red."

"I'm fine," she said, unable to hide a slight smirk.

"Okay everyone. How many of you have been to church at least once?" asked Tiffany. Each person raised a hand. Scott raised Rachel's hand for her, but was quickly discouraged by Stephanie.

"Well, this is a lot like the early morning studies some churches have, except we get to sleep in late and be alert when we study. Pastor Tim has recommended we go through the book of John."

Tiffany continued explaining that they would study a chapter a week until they were finished with that book, and that each person would get a chance to share their discoveries with the group. After that, everyone introduced themselves, which Scott guessed was for his benefit.

I've got to remember to thank Tiffany for that, he thought.

The group took turns reading the first chapter of John, while Scott took notes in his journal. He was relieved that people came to the small group, and that he would regularly get to spend time with them.

*****

The next day was Stephanie's day off from work, and Scott was looking forward to it. As he helped feed the baby, there was a knock on the door.

Tiffany made her way to the door, and as Scott looked past her, he was surprised to see who it was.

Robert opened the door and hugged his sister.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?" asked Tiffany. "I could have made you something to eat."

"I could stay if you want me to. Don't worry." He crossed the threshold into the house, shutting the door behind him. "How have you been, Scott?"

This was the first time Robert had visited Scott while he was staying somewhere away from home. Scott let Rachel grab his finger as he answered, "I'm fine."

"When my sister called and said you would be staying here, I was skeptical, but you seem to be doing pretty good." He took a seat on the couch, where Stephanie, who was sitting nearby, nudged her way further back against the armrest. "And who might you be?"

"I might be Stephanie. Stephanie Jackson." She shook Robert's outstretched hand once, and crossed her arms against the folds of her pink wool sweater.

"Why are you visiting?" asked Scott, watching the interaction between Stephanie and his father very closely.

"Can't a father talk to his son without a reason?" said Robert. Scott wondered if his moving out had worried his dad. Either way, he would stay with Tiffany; he was much happier there.

"Stephanie moved back here from Montana. I knew her when she was a child, and we've spent the past month reconnecting." Tiffany explained from the kitchen. "Her mom, Gloria, was a close friend. Sometimes I'll watch the baby while Stephanie is at work."

I could have sworn that Tiffany already made breakfast, thought Scott. "Did you make breakfast already, Tiff? If you didn't, can I have some of what you're making?"

Robert glanced up at Tiffany, who made no eye contact with her brother.

Scott waited for an answer from his aunt, but it was Robert who answered.

"I don't see why not. Two breakfasts are twice as good as one breakfast."

Scott listened for the sarcasm but heard none in his father's voice.

"Gloria Jackson? Was that your mom's name?" asked Robert. Stephanie nodded and continued reading her magazine.

Tiffany entertained her brother and his questions until she had completed making breakfast for the second time that day. Robert cut the fresh pancakes and turned the conversation in Scott's direction.

"Phillip tells me you've been showing up for the appointments with Doctor Chang. I'm glad that you're doing that. I've decided that this new focus on the mind that you have is a healthy one, so I've scheduled you for continuing sessions for the months of January and February, as well."

Scott knew that his father would decide the fate of his family for them, but he hadn't thought about when he would stop seeing Chang. He had assumed that his appointments would end sooner. I'm sure he promised only a month, thought Scott.

Not that Chang's time had been worthless. Scott had learned to ask questions and take notes often, but he would have gotten most of that from his aunt anyway. He was interested in patterns of thinking, and wanted to be happy, but not by sacrificing belief in his God-given potential. He didn't have to think hard to guess where he would be if he didn't believe in a better tomorrow.

"Your life will be better for it, Scott. You just keep doing what you're doing, and I'll keep supporting you and I'll be there for you."

*****

December 13, 1993

Dear Journal,

My dad visited the house today. I have never seen him go out of his way to visit me like that. He picked me up from a friend's house several times growing up, and both times it was because I got in trouble. I guess I associated my dad's visit with doing something wrong.

Stephanie said she felt nervous, too. She told me so when we went to see a movie that afternoon. I don't remember why Robin Williams was dressed like an old lady, but I remember laughing about it. I was interested in the black and white movie about World War II, but I compromised for Stephanie. Besides, Tiffany wouldn't have liked waiting so long for us to come back.

Anyway, Stephanie said my dad seemed fake, and I think she's right. He scheduled more appointments with Chang without even asking me how the appointments were going or whether I wanted to keep seeing him. I understand from talking to Chang and rereading parts of the journal that psychology is useful, but when does it end? Don't I have to take some actions here to have a better life?

We had a small group yesterday, too. I was embarrassed when I found the note in my pocket saying to get bread. I asked Tiffany about it and she said not to worry about it. I'm glad I have friends who don't try to embarrass me in public.

I also saw two people I hadn't seen in a long time come to the small group. The man's name is Sam, and he went to my high school too. He married Natalie, and the two of them have been going to Tim's church since they got married a couple months ago. I like them. Sam was my friend until I went to the Marshalls, so I hope they'll keep coming.

I think I will keep doing what I'm doing for a while, but I have to start learning how to work with the subconscious to do better in life. It's still worth a try.

*****

Scott snapped out of his stupor. Rachel's cries distracted him from the mesmerizing glow of the fireplace. Seconds later he heard his aunt's voice. "Scott. Can you come into the nursery and help me?"

He got up and walked into the room, where his aunt was holding Rachel. "Scott. I know you're here to stay away from your parents. I think you should do a bit more while you're here, though. You like Rachel, so maybe you can help me take care of her. Hold her for me." Before Scott had a chance to say anything, he was holding the crying baby. "No, not like that. Like this." Tiffany moved her hand underneath Scott's arm so that he could support the baby's head better. "You're doing fine, but she needs to be a bit more comfortable if you want her to stop crying."

Scott knew he had to support the baby's neck, and had done so, but he hadn't done the best job he could. "Sorry, Tiff."

"Don't worry. She's six months old, not six days. If you keep being as careful as you are now, there should be no problem."

As Scott gently rocked Rachel back and forth, she became calm, eased into a deep sleep.

Later that day, Tiffany showed him how to feed, change, burp, and calm the baby, and while Scott anticipated some of the activities with dread, he soon found that there was little to worry about.

"You're pretty good at this. In several days you'll be a pro," said Tiffany.

"It wasn't as hard as I thought," he said. He looked down into Rachel's crib, watching her sleep. "I just don't trust myself to remember what I did and didn't do."

"Don't discount yourself that fast. People who take care of a baby for a long time eventually just know what babies want. I used to work at a day care, and you're better already than some of the people I worked with. You care about the baby, and that's important."

Scott said nothing. Tiffany put her hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "If you're still a bit nervous, I'll remind you what to do with the baby for several weeks so you won't be facing the whole task on your own."

"Thanks. You're right, too," said Scott. "I need to do something, and I'm tired of being useless. Ever since I've been here, the only one keeping that thought going has been me."

"I agree. It's time to stop acting like you're no longer useful. You're my nephew, and you're better than that."
Chapter Eight

"How are you doing, Scott?" asked Dr. Chang. "Good, I guess. I've been hanging out with my aunt and helping her take care of a baby."

"That's good. Some people find babies to be very calming. It seems you feel the same way."

Scott didn't know how many appointments he would need to go through. The psychology was interesting, but he couldn't imagine seeing Chang for the rest of his life. He sat down and looked at the copies of his journal pages to see what they had talked about last.

"We were talking about patterns of thinking last time," said Scott, "and how they take us around like a roller coaster."

"Yes, we were. Some people who have been in life-threatening situations, like you were, come out much worse. Their minds block part of the pattern off, and a separate personality emerges that tries to deal with that part, but it doesn't have all the information it needs. Then there are several thought patterns rolling around inside them. Two incomplete roller coasters."

"Is that where it looks like there's two people inside one body?" asked Scott.

"Or three or more? Yes. We call it multiple personality disorder or fractured identities. Now, you do not have multiple personality disorder. You are Scott. Not Scott and Chris, not Scott, Chris, and Jenny."

"Thankfully," said Scott.

"Fractured identities is a similar concept I use, based on the principles of multiple personality disorder. The brain is still running into denial, and it is still using different thought patterns that don't match how the person's brain functions normally. The only difference is that multiple personalities is a much larger, more severe case of fractured identities, so much that other personalities come in.

"We talked last time about how someone is in many stages of dealing with different issues at the same time. Sometimes, in order to function after car accidents, deaths, abuse, or lesser degrees of stress, our brain makes that extra roller coaster track. I have a feeling that you, Scott, may have some fractured identity somewhere."

"Whoa, what makes you so sure?" said Scott.

"Sure?" Chang smiled. "I have fractured identity. I may have worked through most of it, or it may be to a much lesser degree, but I do have it. We all have it. This is something the brain uses to survive. Of course, after the situation requiring this survival tactic changes, making the fracture in our thought pattern obsolete, the programming still remains. Your aunt has it, your friends have it, and so does every member of your family, back to the chimpanzee."

"Are you making fun of my hair color?" asked Scott.

"There's something right there," said Chang. "You use this witty humor whenever your beliefs are attacked directly. I know some of your thought patterns from our conversation, so I can see that my joke about chimpanzees challenged your belief about where you came from. I'm guessing that you're a creationist. Even if I'm wrong, I'm sure I'm not far off."

"And you connected fractured personalities to everyone I knew, which challenged my idea that all people are whole and complete except for a few asylum inmates."

"That, too. Very good, Scott. I would definitely write that down."

Scott sat up, finding his pen and paper. "By the way, I do believe in creation."

Doctor Chang gave a small chuckle. "Yes, well, we all start from somewhere. That we can all agree on."

"What do you believe, Doctor Chang?"

The psychologist pointed a finger at the wall behind Scott. Scott rose from the sofa and turned around. Up on the wall was a wooden plaque with metal figures of a monkey and a human, with various intermediate stages between them.

"It's part of what makes life exciting. Life is always changing, and those who are best in tune with reality find a way to survive. It runs deep, so deep that even the DNA inside of us demands it."

"So, it runs that deep?" Scott asked, looking at the psychologist.

"More than we yet know."

"It's almost like someone other than us is ensuring our survival, to a degree," Scott said, testing him.

"No," said Chang without hesitation. "Science is the force that drives progress on. It has no form, no being, andno thoughts, yet it is absolute."

*****

After his appointment with Chang, Scott joined Stephanie as she drove towards her childhood home.

"It will be good to get my stuff, so I don't have to travel back and forth so much," said Stephanie.

Scott sat next to her in her car as she drove. "Between where?" he asked.

"Tiffany's house and my father's house. That's where we're going."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't remember you telling me much about your life before moving to my aunt's place."

"I haven't said very much, have I?" She stared ahead at the winding road. "I moved back here after living in Montana. After I graduated high school, I left Alaska and started going to a community college down there. I met a guy, he got me pregnant, and after I found out that he didn't want anything to do with the child, I completed my second semester and came back to Alaska.

"He bought me stuff, and he was very nice in the beginning, but he changed over a few months."

Scott loved Stephanie's daughter, but couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her to have no choice whether or not to have her. "What are you going to do, now that you're back?" he asked.

"Get rid of bad relationships first, I guess. That's why I have been spending so much time away from home."

"I meant about Rachel. Are you going to raise her by yourself?"

"I don't know. I wasn't planning on it, but I just don't trust anyone else enough with her, except you and Tiffany. It sounds bad, but while I want Rachel to have a great life, I feel like for that to happen, I can't have a good life."

It was a short twenty-minute drive to the nearby town of Palmer. Scott knew that before Rachel was born, Stephanie had to live out of her car for several days as she drove up the Alaska-Canadian highway in a late trimester of pregnancy. At the end of that long road back, the first town Stephanie came to when she arrived in the valley again was Palmer, where her father lived.

"Where does he live from here?" asked Scott.

"Just a few minutes now, you'll see," she said.

They crossed the town, making their way to an old bridge crossing the silty, grey Matanuska River. The mountain range grew closer and closer, and Scott had grown up hiking several of the mountain peaks.

"I'm going in here." Stephanie turned left towards the mountain range off the main road. They were now on a gravel road that soon led to a log cabin-style home. "I don't plan on staying very long, just getting my stuff and getting out," she said, stopping the car and looking Scott directly in the eyes.

He followed her into the house and soon understood why she didn't want to stay. The wood floor was stained in several places, the windows were dirty, and newspapers were stacked against one corner of the living room.

"Hey, Stephanie." Scott heard a man speak. He looked to his left and saw an overweight man with a round face, lying back in a reclining chair. The man had a beard covering most of his face and neck, and his eyes turned from the daytime talk show on the television towards his daughter. "And who is this young man?" he said with a drowsy voice.

"Dad, this is Scott. He's a friend. Scott, this is my dad, Herb." Stephanie walked past the man into a nearby room.

Scott stayed, looking around the room while he waited for her to come back. The smell of cigarette smoke smothered his nostrils, seeming to hide all fresh air. He had been around people who smoked before, but the smell was stronger here than any place he had ever been. He hoped Stephanie would hurry up. He could see why she wouldn't want to raise a baby there, and he wanted to go back outside where the mountain air was clean.

Herb got up from his chair and made his way to the kitchen, opening up his refrigerator. "You want a drink while you're waiting?" he asked as he pulled out a can of beer.

Scott remembered that Stephanie intended to stay for as short a time as possible, and he had tried to avoid beer since he had come back to Alaska. "No thanks," he said.

Herb shrugged and walked back to his chair, almost falling backwards into the seat. Stephanie reemerged from the room with a full suitcase and several shopping bags.

"You're not staying?" her father said. "I haven't seen you and your little girl in weeks."

Stephanie bit her lip, and stopped walking. "I'll see you another time. I'm really busy with work right now."

"You've been spending all that time with Gloria's friend, and I'd appreciate it if you spent more time with your actual parents. If you really cared about your family, you'd involve me in it more often." Herb spoke as if he was hurt, rejected.

"See you later," said Stephanie forcefully, walking towards the door with Scott awkwardly following behind.

Scott shut the door behind him and joined Stephanie in the car. The two were eager to return to Tiffany's home, and she already had the car in gear when he broke the uncomfortable silence.

"That must be hard, having to act against your father's wishes when he seems so down," said Scott.

"My parents got divorced six years ago. He's been like that ever since. I did do what he asked for several years until I got out of high school. I was so glad to be out of there when I was in Montana."

"So it has been like that for a while?" he asked.

Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut, looking very uncomfortable.

"Where's your mom now?" asked Scott, trying to change the subject.

"She lives in Florida. I call her sometimes. She told me to become friends with Tiffany when I got back to Alaska."

He interlocked his fingers with her right hand. "I'm glad you did."

"Me, too."

*****

Tim wanted to check up on Tiffany and the Bible study group she had started with Scott. The two decided to surprise Scott by taking him out to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant two days later, after he got back from his appointment with Chang.

As Scott pulled into his aunt's driveway, he felt his stress melt away. Seeing Tim's truck parked in the driveway of his aunt's home was encouraging, and he needed someone to talk to immediately. The psychology was useful, but Chang had gone too far. He was afraid of getting angry and forgetting why he was mad.

When Scott opened the door, he saw both his aunt and Tim in the living room. "I'm so glad that you're here, Tim. I need to talk to you."

Tim barely had time to smile before Scott ran back to his truck and grabbed his journal.

Scott had his journal in hand when Tiffany and Tim met him outside. "We were going to a restaurant for dinner. Will you join us? My treat." Tim's invitation was quickly accepted, and Scott was on his way with Tiffany.

The restaurant had little focus on decor, except for a few pictures of Mexican cowboys with sombreros. The place was mostly empty, and Tim selected a booth against the side wall below a painting of an adobe house.

"How was your psychology appointment?" asked Tiffany.

"Oh right," said Scott. "I wanted to talk to you about that too, Tim. It didn't go well at all."

"Tell me what happened," Tim said.

Scott opened the journal he had with him. "I think it would be best if I show you. It's the last page here." He flipped the journal to the last written page. "I may not remember everything as well as what is written here."

Tim put on his reading glasses, which hung from his neck on a cord. "Do you want me to read aloud?" he asked.

"On that page I think it's okay," said Scott.

*****

December 17 1993

Dear Journal,

I just got out of Chang's office. Our conversation went to evolution, which is a subject he explained to me heavily. He knows I don't believe it; I told him that I believe in the creation as explained in the Bible. He thought it was strange because Phillip believes in evolution and my father talks about evolution all the time. He asked me if I have read the Bible recently, and that if I have, he would be willing to point out the contradictions in it.

After that, I said I have been studying in a group on Sunday nights, and that I would keep looking into the Bible for answers to the questions of where I came from and what plans God has for my life. He then said that with my head injury, I couldn't hold on to truth even if the Bible had any, which he believes is only relevant regarding history.

It comes down to the subconscious mind. Chang says it cannot be changed because it would take too much conscious effort over a long time against already laid foundations from my childhood. My subconscious, however, is the part that still works at a hundred percent, so I don't want to give up on trying to work with it.

Before I left, he told me that his goal is to help me move away from denial and towards acceptance of my situation. He thinks my desire to learn from the Bible and try to change my subconscious mind is an attempt to stay in denial, so I guess for me to be at 'acceptance' by his standards, I have to stop reading the Bible and try to be happy wherever I already am.

I would rather succeed in doing great things rather than just being happy, staying where other people say I should be.

*****

Tim handed the journal back to Scott, who put it in Tiffany's purse before he could forget.

"So that's the situation I'm in," said Scott. "The psychologist my dad wants me to see isn't trying to improve my situation at all. He's trying to make me happy about not improving."

"I know what I would do, but what do you think, Tim?" said Tiffany.

Tim took off his reading glasses as the waitress approached. After ordering, the waitress left Tiffany and Scott still looking to Tim for a response.

"This psychologist wants you to stop reading the Bible?" he asked.

"He didn't say it in those words, from what I remember, but he sees my reading of the Bible as an act of denial," said Scott.

At those words Tim started to laugh. Tiffany smiled, not completely sure whether there was a joke to laugh at.

"An act of denial indeed," said Tim, now regaining his composure. "Many saints will be in heaven due to their own acts of denial, of that I am sure. In fact, I would be missing out not to join you in this denial. But first, what is it that you are denying?" he asked, looking at Scott.

"Chang says I am in denial of accepting reality."

"What reality is that?"

"That I cannot use my conscious brain as well as uninjured people can, and that my subconscious cannot be changed. He's trying to move my thought patterns in a direction of no longer challenging these things."

"Do you know what the Bible says? The third chapter of 2 Corinthians says that '... all of us who have had that veil removed can see and reflect the glory of the Lord. And the Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him as we are changed into his glorious image.'"

Tiffany looked at Tim blankly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"In that text, Paul is telling the people of Corinth that Jesus was a reflection of God and that by looking at Jesus they would get a much better view of God than they had before. Before Jesus came, God had to be veiled from their sight, like when Moses came down from Mount Sinai with his face covered, so that the glory of God wouldn't cause harm. Seeing God's reflection in Jesus was the only way to see God and become changed.

"I want to ask you, Scott, what doesn't it say? Does it say, by remembering, we are changed?"

"No," said Scott.

"Does it say, by learning a few Bible texts, we are changed?"

No," said Scott, but with greater certainty in his voice.

"What, then, does it say?"

"By beholding the life of Jesus, we are changed."

As Scott answered, Tim grinned, and his eyes widened in triumph. "Do you get it?"

"No," said Tiffany.

"Yes," said Scott.

"Explain to her, Scott. I'll be right here, too, if you have trouble."

Scott looked over at Tiffany. He turned in her direction, and gestured with his hands as he talked. "God is saying our experiences shape who we are. By experiencing the life of Jesus, or being around people who live following what He teaches, we get a better view of God; much better than even the Old Testament Hebrews had, witnessing all those miracles. Our nature is changed, and we start acting more like how Jesus would act, causing the same changing effect to occur in others. Paul was talking about the subconscious mind. According to the Bible, Doctor Chang is wrong!"
Chapter Nine

That afternoon, Scott made a choice that he knew would have a dramatic impact on his life. It was a rare moment when he, at his age, could see the crossroad before him and, knowing the consequences of either side, could choose for himself without second-guessing.

Scott wouldn't act on that choice until later. He was enjoying himself too much. Tim, Scott, and Tiffany continued talking long after they had eaten. Not often did Tim have time to spend with someone without demands made on his time, and they all, even Tim, were trying to take full advantage.

"It's not like psychology is all bad," said Scott. "I've learned a lot about thought patterns and new ways of thinking. It's just a shame that it doesn't take into account what the Bible says. If someone were to do psychology, following what the Bible says, and throwing out all the stuff that disagrees with what God says, then I would see that psychologist for the rest of my life."

"If he has the three legs of trust," said Tim.

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to work with someone who didn't care about me."

Tiffany nodded in agreement as she sipped the last of the water from her glass.

"This guy I'm seeing doesn't have my best interest in mind. It's clear now," said Scott. "He keeps talking about Darwin, how he revolutionized science."

"He did revolutionize science," said Tim. Scott sat dumbfounded, not expecting to hear his favorite pastor compliment the father of evolution. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"

"No," said Scott, skeptical.

"He came up with a theory that helped people understand the world better. Was he right all the time? No, that's why it is theory and not fact. The idea that giraffes with longer necks would reach more food on the trees and eventually outlive the smaller ones is common sense now. Now when we think of giraffes, we see them with long necks all the time."

"I don't believe we came from monkeys, but our God-given ability to think may well have allowed us to survive while other animals did not. Darwin was a church-going man for part of his life, you'll see this if you read about him. Maybe his simple framework for understanding would do better after passing the Bible test as well, like psychology would," said Tim.

*****

When Scott woke up the next morning, he felt like he had done a lot of thinking the night before. "What did I do?" he asked himself. He remembered that Tim and his aunt had had dinner with him, but couldn't remember why. In his head he felt pressure, not quite pain, but not comfortable, either.

He sat up and reached for his journal, flipping through the pages until he found the last entry.

December 17, 1993

Dear Journal,

Read the previous entry first.

Scott flipped a page back and read it, recalling the conversation he had with Chang. Upon seeing "now read the next page" freshly written in his handwriting on the bottom of the page, he flipped back to his most recent entry and continued reading.

Chang doesn't have my best interest in mind. I have decided that, since he wants me to stop reading the Bible, that I should instead stop seeing him. It sure is an act of denial, one that I'm glad to continue in.

Scott held the phone close to his ear. He was nervous, too nervous in his opinion, for just a phone call. He hoped to reach Chang's assistant and, after a short speech, hang up.

"Hello?" a masculine voice answered from across the line. Scott paused, wondering if he had dialed a wrong number. "Hey, this is Scott. Is this Chang's office?"

"Oh, hi, little brother. What can I help you with?"

Scott now recognized the voice of his brother, Phillip. "Where's your secretary? The girl."

"She's out right now. Doctor's appointment. I know she's cute and all, but she doesn't date patients. Sorry, bro."

"I'm not going to be able to make the appointment tomorrow."

Scott listened for his brother, feeling Phillip's judgment travel nonverbally back to him.

"Um," Phillip forced a small laugh, "okay, what time do you want to reschedule?"

"I... don't know. I can call back later to tell you."

"You'll call back? You won't forget?"

Scott then remembered why he was nervous. He didn't know what his dad would do if he discovered he was no longer seeing Chang.

"I can call back. I can write a note reminding me."

"Be sure you do, and do it in the next hour. I don't want to take any chances with you. If you don't, I'll take it as you blowing off your responsibility."

Scott heard the click of the other line and now he was really nervous. My dad has been more unpredictable than I've ever seen him, he thought. If I don't go to Chang's appointments, who knows what he'll do?

Looking down at the journal entry, he remembered that he didn't come to this decision alone. Tim was there, so was Tiffany, his dad's sister. He also knew that if he continued seeing Chang, he would repeat an experience that would influence his subconscious. Chang wants me to forget God, and if I do what he says, I would be in danger of abandoning Him. He picked up the phone and dialed again with determination.

"This is Phillip."

"I'm assuming responsibility. I choose not to see Chang anymore."

"What's this about? Are you not liking the lesson on evolution or something?"

"How would you know?" asked Scott.

"Chang will sometimes explain vaguely what is talked about so that I can learn to do my job better, when I have my own practice. He doesn't get into specifics, like your dream and stuff."

"Well, I don't like it," said Scott. He was very thankful that Phillip gave him an easy way out. "You'd think Chang wouldn't do that with me, due to the conflict of interest. You being my brother, my dad being his friend. You know what? Now I really know why Robert wanted me to see Chang. So you can forget it. I'm done."

This time it was Phillip who heard the phone hang up on him.

*****

"You've been living with Tiffany for several weeks now. I think you've been home less than I have," said Stephanie as she playfully pushed Scott. They were walking on the frozen grass next to Wasilla Lake, enjoying a day off.

"You're right. You've been back three times, right? I haven't even been back once. Every day I spent there, before I left, wasn't pleasant," said Scott.

"I hear you complain about some of your stuff still being there. The stuff from the islands, and other things. Leaving something that important behind is like saying you're not really moving out."

Scott heard what Stephanie was saying, and he wanted to retrieve several things from his parents' house. On the list were extra clothes, his stuff from the Marshall Islands, and maybe his hunting rifle. He knew it would be best not to go during a time that his father was there. His parents would be visiting Juneau the next week, and Chang said he would be going too. All the state lawmakers worked there, as well as the governor. Robert wasn't going to turn down an opportunity like that because his son wanted to pick up a hunting rifle and some seashells. Scott decided he would pick everything up after his parents had left.

*****

At night, two days later, Scott drove to his parents' house, taking the best parking space. The driveway was empty, much to his relief. He took the sticky note off his steering wheel. "Get hunting rifle, Marshall Island gifts, and clothes," he read to himself. He got out of the truck and approached the front door.

Scott pulled out his copy of the house key. The lock on the door looked brand new, and his key was several years old. He tried the lock. It didn't work. Something was out of place. He shook the doorknob, hoping it was already unlocked. The doorknob moved only a little before hitting the lock that stubbornly held the door shut.

"Did my dad change the lock?" he asked, not expecting an answer. In frustration, he banged on the door several times. Still nothing. It was dark outside and cold enough for Scott to see his own breath. He didn't want to have to come back, and he wasn't going to stay outside.

Anger swelled within Scott's mind. He knew that his father had changed the locks on him because he stopped seeing Chang.

He swiftly lunged at the door, planting one foot firmly in the snow while letting the other fly as fast as he could in its direction. He heard the snapping of wood and felt the door loosen. A neighbor separated by one hundred feet of birch trees turned on the upstairs light. Scott quickly repeated his efforts one final time, causing the door to swing open.

Scott entered, doing the best he could to close the door so that it would open if he needed it to, yet a small breeze wouldn't reopen it.

The first thing Scott did was go downstairs. Starting in the room opposite the boxes, he found his hunting rifle. He slung the strap around his shoulder and headed back upstairs. When he made it to his bedroom, he found it completely empty. There were fewer things in the room than there had been when he came home from the hospital.

"Where are? They moved...again." Scott was too angry to care about what he was saying. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and couldn't find them. He returned to the main floor of his house. Scott left his gun standing upright against the sofa before returning to the basement.

He didn't know which boxes had his things so he acted on feeling. As he opened the first box he felt wasn't there the last time, he breathed a sigh of relief. The woven map and seashells were inside. Lifting that box and checking the two underneath, he found the rest of his clothes. I might as well take those with me too, he thought.

Scott made several trips upstairs until four cardboard boxes were lying on the couch next to his rifle. He checked his note again to make sure he had what he came for, before he noticed the flashing red and blue lights that now blinked from the police cruiser in his driveway.

"Oh! This..." Before Scott could think of how to respond, the door swung open.

"He's got a gun!" one of them said loudly to his partner. They both drew their weapons and entered the house.

"Wait! This isn't..." Scott held his hands up and walked toward one of the officers. The other officer saw Scott moving closer to the sofa and grabbed him. The policeman pinned him against the wall near the stairs.

"Don't shoot! I have...I don't...and..."

"Cuff him, Lewis." The officer still had his gun drawn and hesitated for a moment. Shaking, he lowered his gun, secured it, and put handcuffs on Scott's wrists. "You'll have time to talk later. In the meantime, you have the right to remain silent..."
Chapter Ten

The last time Scott was involved with the police, it was to protect his aunt from a violent drunk who threatened to kill her.

Officers Casler and Lewis escorted him into the police station, where they put him in a holding cell. "You just wait here while we get someone to process you," said Lewis, as the two young officers left him alone.

Scott looked around. The fluorescent lamps just outside the cell made it easy to see. The door was made of steel, and was locked. His jaw still hurt on the right side, where one of the officers pushed him against the wall at his house and he was unable to use his arms to prevent it.

"Did I get arrested for breaking into my own house?" Scott asked himself. "My dad's going to laugh at me for this, I know it. I'll never see the end of it."

Hours passed, and Scott waited alone, hearing the sound of his two arresting officers joking and laughing from behind a closed door.

"Wasn't I supposed to get a phone call or something?" he asked himself, too nervous to say it any louder.

Suddenly the door to the room was opened, and both officers returned with a third man. They approached Scott and the third man began asking questions.

"Where do you live?"

"Where do I sleep, you mean?" Scott didn't know if he was supposed to say where he was staying or where his parents lived, since he spent little to no time there.

"Yeah, answer the question," said Lewis.

"I live...my parents...and they're gone." Scott was so nervous he had trouble explaining. He was hating his head injury.

"You'll have to speak clearer, boy," said the other officer.

"That was...my house," said Scott, thankful to have found the words he wanted.

"How old are you?" the man asked, continuing his questions.

"Don't I get a phone call?" asked Scott.

"You'll answer our questions first. We won't be asking you questions about your arrest or what you are doing, this is just identity processing. Now, how old are you?"

"Twenty-two," said Scott.

"Alright, you'll just wait in here," said the man after writing it down, leading the two others out of the room.

Alone again, Scott began to wonder. Will they press charges? Do they notify my parents at a time like this? Did they understand I live there?

In addition to the onslaught of questions in his mind was frustration at not remembering his aunt's address. "I could have used it if I knew what it was. This is the last thing I need, now that I stopped seeing Chang," said Scott. He waited in his cell for several more minutes until the two officers came back.

"We're taking you to get your fingerprints," said one of them, unlocking his cell door.

Scott followed them with fear and curiosity, leaving his cell room and walking with them down the hall. Entering a nearby room, Scott was ushered up to a desk where they would use ink to copy his fingerprints.

"We can do this to see what else you've done. All across the country. Now put your finger on and don't make us have to convince you."

When Scott had done everything the officers wanted, they gave him a chance to make his phone call. He stood next to the phone, struggling to remember Tiffany's number. "Can I use a phone book? I can't remember the number."

"Well, you're just out of luck, aren't you?" said Lewis.

*****

The next day Scott found himself behind a new set of bars. The same officers who arrested him had taken him to the correctional facility. Before he left, he wondered if he would see the officer who knew him. Scott had forgotten his name, but knew that if he saw him, he could help. The man didn't show up, however, and Scott went from the police station to jail with no one speaking on his behalf. There he would stay until someone could help him, or until his court date.

"I have become really weak because of this head injury. It's so easy for me to forget things," he said to himself. He didn't know what had happened to his truck, or the journal that was inside it. He sat down on the cot that was attached to the wall. The room was empty, with white walls and a toilet next to the cot. Aside from the toilet, the bare concrete floor, and the bars separating his cell from the hallway, Scott was reminded of his room at his parents' house.

His mind drifted to the words that Casler and Lewis said in the police car on the way to the prison. When we arrest someone for a crime like yours, they stay put for a long time.

It can all come crashing down so fast, he thought. I can't be with people I can't trust, especially when my head causes me so much trouble like this. I'm not living with my parents again. If I have to choose between being a bum and going back there, I'll live on the streets if necessary.

Scott shuddered. He was alone, surrounded by nothing. "I have to build my own surroundings from now on, my own circle of people I can trust." He remembered what had happened since coming back to Alaska. "I remember the three, twelve, and seventy. I used them and I didn't forget, but now I know I need to follow Jesus's example at an even deeper level."

With no journal, no Bible, no friends, and no home, Scott built upon the one thing he still had. He went over everything he could remember from his life, reinforcing what he had learned about trust and social circles. "I can't be lax on any of these, not even with my own family. I have to find people who will work better with me, even if I have to teach the concepts I've learned to other people." He could imagine what would happen if he did that. When he married, it would be to a wife he could trust. He could be like Tim, saving people from bad relationships and creating his own world that both accepted his weaknesses and compensated for them.

He was tired, but his mind was racing too fast to sleep. Somewhere in the world, there were people that he needed with him. He lay down on the cot with his hands behind his head. "I'm sure I won't be here long. It will be humiliating if I stay here until my parents get back, but I guess there's no avoiding that. From now on, I'm going to find people to be around me, to fill my three, twelve, and seventy. I'll never be alone again because I'll teach others to do the same in their own lives."

Scott lost track of time as he lay with his face towards the gray ceiling. He continued reminding himself of the lessons he learned every time his mind would let him. I wonder how many people are in places like this, just because they don't have anyone, he thought.

"Inmate 4327."

Scott didn't hear the guard's voice as he stared at the wall. The thoughts in his head were so large that they demanded his attention. I hear about people being called by God to go into ministry. They stand in front of the church saying they've quit their jobs, forfeited their rewarding lifestyles, or moved to other countries, all in the name of following a mission. Could this be my mission? Is it just my needs and wants, or is God calling me now?

"4327!"

Not long ago, Scott had a dream where someone told him that he had a job to do; a job he couldn't do on his own. After that, his Uncle John told him that God had a plan for his life. If God does have a plan for my life, this would be it. There's nothing clearer than that. He knew that if he followed the path that he could see in front of him, he could always rise back up whenever he fell.

"432...Scott!"

Scott turned and saw an irritated guard, on the verge of giving up on getting his attention. "Get over here, someone wants to see you."

Scott made his way to the visitation room where his aunt and Officer Fisk were waiting. Scott recognized the muscular policeman. He was at least six foot four and had a large brown mustache. No cop in town seemed as experienced and tough as he was, yet he acted without feeling a need to prove it.

Tiffany ran up to Scott as soon as she could and gave him a hug. The guard began to lecture her when Fisk stopped him with a nod.

"Young man, as soon as I heard your house was broken into, I called your aunt to tell her, then she told me you hadn't come back."

"Why was I arrested?" asked Scott.

"A neighbor who just moved in a few weeks ago had seen you kicking in the front door. She called the cops, thinking you were a burglar."

"But I grew up in that house. The stuff I was taking all belonged to me."

Fisk gave a sympathetic smile. "The bottom line is that you'll be released tomorrow. No jail time, except for what you've already done. There won't even be community service or fines. I've talked to the judge and personally vouched for you, seeing as we already know each other through your help in taking down Owen."

Scott breathed a sigh of relief. The guard rolled his eyes and left the room.

"It's not all good news though," continued Fisk. "Casler and Lewis, your two arresting officers, still think you tried to assault them with a firearm."

"You mean my rifle? It wasn't even in my hand," said Scott.

"Thank your lucky stars it wasn't. It would have been a real chore getting you out of jail if it had been. Casler and Lewis are new to the force. They completed all their training six months ago and have a lot to prove. Capturing a burglar who tried to assault them with a gun would be good for their credibility, and they don't want to be humiliated for their mistake. Due to this political thing, the judge told me that if you ended up in jail for anything else for the next three years, these charges would be put against you, in addition to any other time you would serve."

"So I'm fine if I just stay out of trouble?" asked Scott.

"In theory, yes. In fact, what happened the other night was a series of misunderstandings, but those misunderstandings are just as dangerous to you now as if you were actually committing the crimes on purpose. Frankly, I would be trying to live somewhere else, other than Alaska, until those three years are over."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Scott.

"You do that, and celebrate extra careful this Christmas." said Fisk with a smile.

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that." said Scott. "I'll only be with people I can trust, and no one else."

Scott spent the last day in prison as the happiest man there. He slept in relative peace, only awakened by the screaming of an inmate who he would never meet. Scott secretly wished the man well, but the man was clearly in need of professional help.

When he was released the next morning, Tiffany was there to pick him up. "I'll take you to your truck. I've already arranged for someone to f x the front door of your parents' house. We don't want your father to come home and realize his home had been broken into."

Scott didn't remember the details, but nodded in agreement.

"You said you wanted to get your stuff from the Marshalls, some clothes, and the rifle," said Tiffany. Before Scott could say another word, she continued. "I assumed the boxes left on the couch were what you were looking for, so I took them to my house. They are in your room. As for the rifle, you'd have to get that back from the police. They confiscated it, though if I were you, I would just leave it alone. Understand?"

"Yes," said Scott. He knew better than she did that guns and misunderstandings shared a special bond, and if he allowed that bond to form again, even an attorney couldn't keep him out of jail. "I learned my lesson."

When they arrived at Scott's house, Tiffany stopped her Suburban next to his truck.

"I learned a lot, Tiff."

"Like not kicking in doors without introducing yourself to the neighbors?" asked Tiffany.

"Oh, yeah. That too. I was also realizing how vulnerable I am. I can't afford to fail, especially with people. I need a community around me who I can trust. I've got too many weaknesses, and my memory was so bad in the station I couldn't even tell them your address or use my one phone call to call you. When I get really stressed or afraid, my head injury is even more annoying than usual, you know?"

"It's like peanut butter and crackers again, but much worse. I get it."

"Was that a joke? I don't remember what you're talking about," said Scott.

Tiffany smiled. "Before our first group meeting, where we were studying the Bible, you went to the store but forgot the bread I asked you to get, so I made peanut butter and crackers."

"Oh." He smiled. "It's exactly like that."

"Well, your journal is in the truck. Keep using that, and work on that goal of building the community you're looking for. It's a good place to start. As you know, I'll be there for you."

*****

Scott got out of jail the day before Christmas Eve, and spent the next two days at Tiffany's house, celebrating. On Christmas morning, Scott, Tiffany, and Stephanie all sat on the floor, unwrapping the gifts they had bought each other.

"That's a lot. You really gave a lot, Scott," said Stephanie, who stared at the third Christmas present for Rachel, which was much like the others. It was a box almost as large as the baby, containing many different toys divided between several old newspapers.

"I appreciate what you've done for the baby, Scott. Next time, though, let's just wait until Rachel is old enough to appreciate the gifts more than the sound of the crinkling newspaper," said Tiffany as she laughed. Scott introduced each gift one by one to Rachel, most of which were small beanbag animals. By now, the pile was high enough to hide Rachel from her mother if she was lying down. Rachel stared in wonder at the soft new things that rested upon her lap.

"I didn't mind getting them at all. It was fun," said Scott. He looked back up at Stephanie, who was holding the box of earrings and the wool sweater that he had given her.

"It's fine," said Stephanie, opening the box and turning one of the earrings over onto her hand.

"I'm very thankful for the blender too, Scott. I've been wanting to learn how to use one of those for a while, and now I own one! Oh, what's that?" asked Tiffany, pointing down to another box. Scott's face grew red as he recognized the wrapping paper.

"Oh, umm, it's for Rachel," said Scott.

"Another one?" said Stephanie, no longer happy at the shower of gifts her daughter had received.

"I think what happened is that I forgot I had bought Rachel gifts at least once. I've got to remember to keep receipts with this thing I've got going on," said Scott, playfully tapping his own head.

"Don't worry, Scott. They weren't expensive, were they?" asked Tiffany.

"No, I didn't pay that much."

"Well, you should know, it looks like you're the expert on baby gifts," said Stephanie.

"I'll clean everything up, then I'll take the stuff I got to my room, if that's alright?" he asked his aunt.

*****

As Scott admired the new journal he had received from Stephanie, he heard the phone ring.

"Scott. It's Tim and he wants to talk to you," Tiffany called.

He left his room, and walked over to pick up the phone. "Hello?"

"God bless you this Christmas, Scott. How have you been?" Tim asked.

"I'm fine. It's been a while since we last talked. The big news for me is that I stopped seeing my psychologist the day after we had dinner."

"So I've heard, and I've also been told that you spent a night in jail, did I hear that right?"

"Oh yeah," said Scott, "I broke the front door of my dad's house, the one I lived in my whole life, because he switched the lock. A new neighbor saw it, and called the cops on me. The cops thought I was assaulting them with my rifle and arrested me, adding assault to the charges. It's all dropped now, but I'm nervous. The judge told Officer Fisk that if I do anything in Alaska for the next three years, I get all those charges added to me."

"That sounds dangerous," said Tim.

"It is. I mean, my arrest in the first place was a misunderstanding, and now I'm basically told that any future misunderstandings will lead to jail. I can't afford to have accidents, and now I'm more accident prone than ever before."

"I would be nervous too. What will you do to avoid getting in trouble?"

"Never carry or touch a gun in the state of Alaska, never break anything, and stay only with people who have the three legs of trust," said Scott.

"That's a great way to avoid misunderstandings," said Tim. "I think you've got the right idea."

Scott and Tim each waited for the other to speak for several seconds. At that moment, Scott had an idea. "Tim? Did Chris return from Cambodia yet? I haven't had a job since the accident, and I can't depend on the money I earned working for my aunt forever."

"He'll be back in a few weeks. Why don't you write about it in your journal, and I'll try to contact him for you when he gets back?"

"You're the best, Tim," said Scott thankfully.

"Merry Christmas to you, too."

Tiffany didn't expect everyone to be at her house the day after Christmas for the small group meeting. She figured at least half of them would be gone, yet here they all were, sharing stories and each other's company. Scott and Stephanie were there, as well as Sam, Natalie, Mark, and Amy.

"We made great progress when we talked about the first couple of chapters of John last time, so let's read on to the next one," said Tiffany.

The small group took turns reading the verses until the chapter had been read. "So." Tiffany was still adjusting to her leadership role. "What went through your minds when we read chapter three?"

After hearing no one else start, Mark began the discussion.

"What meant a lot to me was what John the Baptist said when the man asked him: why is Jesus baptizing and why are people now going to him instead? John said 'It is the bridegroom who marries the bride, and the best man is simply glad to stand with him and hear his vows. Therefore, I am filled with joy at his success. He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less.' That was in verses 29 and 30.

"Well," said Mark, "I helped Sam celebrate his marriage by organizing a party before the day of the wedding. If I organized the party and then did not come to the wedding for fear that no one would pay attention to me, I would be one really weird friend. So, not accepting Jesus, especially for the Jews back then, was like going to a bachelor party, then skipping the wedding, ignoring the very reason the party existed in the first place."

Everyone in the room nodded in agreement. Natalie squeezed Sam's hand and looked at him with affection.

"I like that," said Tiffany. "What do you think, Scott?"

"I was looking at the born again concept Jesus was talking about earlier. In psychology, I learned about something called the subconscious mind, which is the part of our brain that runs all the time without us needing to choose. Chang, I mean, my psychologist, says it's not possible for anyone to change their subconscious after their childhood has already been lived. It feels like Jesus is saying that for Nicodemus and other people to change, they would need to stop relying on what their first childhood had given them, and allow themselves to be led through a second period of childhood," said Scott. He smiled, looking at everyone there. "This probably doesn't mean much to you, but it means a lot to me."

"I liked what you said, Scott," said Mark.

Upon hearing Scott, Tiffany had something to share as well.

"Yes, Jesus also started teaching by talking about things on earth, instead of telling people first about what was in heaven. If He had done differently, He might have had even fewer people understand Him," said Tiffany. She allowed a brief time lapse for anyone else to speak.

"Let's take a look at chapter four, shall we? Unless there's still more you want to look at."

Everyone was in agreement, so they continued to the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman by the well.

As they read through the chapter, Stephanie stopped the reading. "I don't like this chapter," she said.

Scott put his arm around her. "What is it?"

"Jesus tells the woman all these things she's ashamed of, and then announces He's God. I don't like it."

"They were alone," said Amy. "She was there at the hottest part of the day, when no one else would be there."

"So? She didn't want to be humiliated by anyone."

"Maybe the woman needed someone to understand her situation. Maybe she was more willing to be led to freedom from her situation than other people who we may have thought were more worthy. My opinion is that God will help people who want to be helped, or who are trying to want to be helped," said Tiffany. "I remember when someone wanted to help me and all I did was fight with him."

She brushed her hair back. "It took years of not living the life I wanted before I started seeking help, and I began to find it even before reading the Bible."

"Your story is a lot like Nicodemus," said Mark. "He later defended Jesus against some elders, saying not to condemn a person without hearing Him first. The next time you see Nicodemus in the Bible, he's publicly burying the body of Jesus with Joseph, the man who bought His tomb. It took him a while to go from small faith to a greater faith."

"You sure know a lot, pastor's kid," said Sam teasingly.

*****

"Scott."

Scott looked up from his journal. "Yes?"

Tiffany entered his room and sat down next to him on the bed. "Your dad called and invited me, you, Stephanie, and even the baby to a new year's eve party at his house."

"Maybe he'll keep the door unlocked for me this time."

"I hope so too. There will be no misunderstandings if you kick open a door in front of twenty people. I want you to help me, though. I don't want to spend too much time with my brother, especially when he's playing politician."

"I don't know," said Scott. "When he's playing politician, I've noticed he isn't as mean to me."

"What are you writing about?" asked Tiffany, looking at the pen in Scott's hand.

"Just trying to remember what we talked about in the group Bible study last night. Can you help me?"

Tiffany told him all that she could remember.

"You're getting into this," said Scott. "You've remembered so much about what people said. I think you like this, a lot."

Tiffany's smile disappeared. Scott looked at her, wondering if he'd done something wrong. By the time Scott could begin searching for answers, she laughed. Her smile returned. "You're right. I'm sorry, I just didn't realize it myself." She got up and started to leave.

"Can I talk to you about something?" asked Scott. She turned to look back at him. "Is Stephanie mad at me? She hasn't been as nice as she was a week ago."

Tiffany gave Scott a hug. "You're one of the best guys, Scott. I just think she felt ignored when you gave Rachel all those gifts and her just two."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Did I do that?"

"Yes, I'm afraid you did."

"Well, I think I know what to do to solve that," said Scott. He flipped open his journal and began writing.
Chapter Eleven

Scott was right when he thought his father would act charming when he, Tiffany and Stephanie went over to his parents' house. He hated it, seeing his father pretend to be in a close relationship with him just after changing the locks on the door. Scott didn't know if Robert knew about the break-in, or that it was him who did the breaking.

As Scott sat down at the foot of the stairs to eat a slice of pie, he looked around at the crowd of people. There were at least twenty, and Robert had brought chairs from his office to accommodate everyone. Most of the attendees were new to Scott, but Robert treated them with the same closeness and cordiality as he did his sons. Tiffany was at Robert's side, surrounded by other middle-aged people who Scott guessed were friends of his father.

He took a bite of the pie. It was very good, but store bought. Even his mother, who had her own circle of admirers, wouldn't take chances with her cooking, no matter how good it was.

"You must be Scott, aren't you?" A well-dressed couple approached the stairs, looking at him. "You are so fortunate to have a father who cares so much for you. Who knows what would have happened if you didn't have a psychologist for a father."

Scott swallowed. "Thank you," he said. The couple grinned before stepping sideways to talk with his brother, Phillip.

If only they knew, Scott thought. He couldn't help but think they had read the interview in the paper about his dad, where he used Scott's misfortune to garner sympathy from potential voters. He finished the pie, then got up to look for Stephanie. After unsuccessfully searching the living room, he went downstairs, hoping to find her hiding from the crowd in a less public place. He didn't find her, so he returned to where his dad was, still playing to the crowd in front of him.

"I can't stand that Thompson fellow, anyway. He's raised city taxes and doesn't listen to the city council on issues of recreation," said one of Robert's admirers.

"Well you needn't worry, Wilson. Your advice will be heard and acted upon as soon as I'm in a position to do so. He'll have to do more than kiss babies and shake hands to stay in office this time," said Robert.

"More like kiss babes and shake babies, with the way he works."

The raucous laughter made it easier to find Stephanie, who was standing half-hidden behind Tiffany, holding Rachel. Her smile was forced, Scott could tell, and he decided it was time to get her out of there.

"Oh, young man. You must be Robert's youngest son." A white haired gentleman next to Robert addressed him.

"Yes?"

"Scott, let me introduce you. Jack, this is Scott. Scott, Jack," said Robert. Scott shook his hand, moving to the side so that Stephanie would have her chance to escape.

"Excuse me," said Stephanie, taking that chance as soon as she saw it.

"Me too," said Tiffany, who followed close behind. Her lips mouthed a silent 'thank you' to Scott as she passed by.

Scott turned towards the kitchen to throw his paper plate away. As he made it to the trash, a woman who had been talking with Jean approached him. "You're Scott, right?" He nodded, trying to be patient with the strangers in his house. "You were in that accident, the car accident."

If the woman had not read about his head injury in the newspaper, she would not have underestimated the now playful look in his eyes. "Uhhhh?" said Scott, not sure how much he wanted to embellish.

She talked to him slowly, as if he barely spoke English. "You should be thankful for having a great family."

"Huh?" Scott asked, trying to walk a fine line between retardation and simple misunderstanding.

"You have a wonderful father," she said, this time slightly louder.

"I love Dad. You should visit Dad more. I haven't seen you all week."

The woman stared at him, confused, not wanting to be rude, but afraid of making a mistake. "You poor thing." She said, before walking away.

Scott spoke again as the woman left. "You come any time. I love you!"

Scott looked back into the living room. Very few had been paying attention, and almost no one was surprised, not even his dad. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, Stephanie was bent over, trying her best to keep from laughing at Scott's new brand of humor.

Tiffany weaved her way through the crowd to Scott. "You just made her day, you know?"

Scott hugged his aunt. "Made whose day?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face. Tiffany laughed, knowing that Scott was still playing.

"I saw what you did, and I liked it, too. Just don't do it too much if you want to be taken seriously."

"You're right," said Scott. "I couldn't help it this time, and I hoped that by acting this way it would keep people from talking to me at this party. I won't do it again, though."

Scott felt his brain making connections all over the place, and his joking was the only way he could express it at that moment. He knew now that Robert had given everyone a thought pattern about him, and that by playing with that thought pattern, he could play with everyone at the party. He also knew that his dad felt like a family man when he was running for office, and that Robert cared about appearances. He wouldn't show anger towards his children around potential voters, no matter how much discomfort it might cause him to hold it back. Scott also knew that with the newspaper calling him 'mentally handicapped,' any anger his dad would show would be directed towards someone who everyone thought was handicapped. With the knowledge of psychology he now had, Scott could act one way or the other, while Robert was trapped by the harmful words he had said about his son.

There is strength even in having weaknesses, Scott thought. At first he didn't know what to think about his dad running for mayor, and was even ashamed of Robert and what he had said to the journalist, but now he had a new opinion. Scott thought it would be best if his father's life were as public as possible.

Scott approached his father again, joining him amidst the crowd of people who rotated in and out of his circle.

"You've met my younger son, Scott. Right?"

Scott shook hands with everyone there.

"Weren't you in a car accident?" asked one of them.

"I was," said Scott. "Luckily, my dad's a psychologist, and he knew one of the best in the northwest. Since then I've been learning about fractured personalities, the subconscious, the stages of grief, and all sorts of fascinating things."

Some in the group were taken by surprise, expecting much less than what Scott was delivering.

"And how have all these lessons impacted you?" asked one of them.

"Impacted me? Chang is a good friend of my dad, and was practically a miracle worker. My father would have worked with me himself, but that would have been a conflict of interest. You can see that," said Scott.

As the crowd welcomed in the new year, most of them made their way outside the house to set off fireworks in the back yard, which had been shoveled out in several places to make room for the well dressed guests and for several of Robert's friends, who were lighting the artillery shells.

Robert put his arm around Scott, keeping him inside the house as the room started to empty. "You're doing really well, Scott. It looks like you may be healing up from the accident after all." His father released him and walked outside, leaving Scott alone in the living room with Tiffany and Stephanie.

"Happy New Year," said Stephanie.

"Happy New Year to you, too. I'm sorry I didn't get you anything today."

"You bought me flowers, remember? You wrote it down in your journal. At least that's what you told me."

"Did I? I did," said Scott. By now Scott was getting used to moving forward with conversation, even if he didn't remember all the details. He decided then that he would be 'healing up' even more if he stopped questioning himself and started asking questions of others more often.

"Your dad, he offered me a job," said Stephanie.

"You didn't take it did you?" asked Scott.

Stephanie took a deep breath. "Can you hold the baby for a while? My arm is tired."

Scott carefully took the baby from her arms, holding Rachel upright against his chest. She continued sleeping, undisturbed.

"I did."

"I thought you didn't like my dad," said Scott.

"I know, but I work part-time at a restaurant. I wait tables until the afternoon and your dad offered me a job as his secondary assistant, secretary or something. He said he'd pay ten dollars an hour, which is way more than what I make at the restaurant. I'll be working both jobs now. I'm tired of just living, Scott."

"You'll be with him all the time, though."

Stephanie shook her head. "His first secretary is going to start helping him with the campaign in the afternoons. She'll be with him most of the time. I'm just filling in at the office while they are working from about three to seven. Besides, I want to be able to afford things too. I can't remember the last time I even went shopping, without it being for baby shoes or something."

Tiffany peeked her head in from outside. "You want to leave? I know I'm ready."

Scott yawned. "Yeah, sure." He looked at Stephanie again. "We'll talk in the car," he said as he followed Tiffany to her car, with Rachel in his arms.

*****

January 1, 1994

Dear Jesus,

I've started writing 'Dear Jesus' because when I looked back, that's what my Uncle Matthew wrote on his journal entries. Besides, I need all the help I can get.

Recently I've been trying to connect the Bible with what I've learned about psychology. So far, I think the subconscious can be changed. You can even change how you've seen the past so that your entire mind will be transformed. That is certainly more promising than what Chang has been saying.

My dad had a party at his house and he invited everyone. Using thought patterns, I realized I would do better by not rebelling against him when he's running for office. Thank you, Lord, I would not have come to that decision on my own. It was bittersweet, though, because I knew that if I learned to live with my head injury, using all the notes, shortcuts, questions, and psychology, I would not be seen as someone who had accomplished something. If I got better, my dad would assume I never had the head injury to begin with. If I didn't get better, then he would be right about my mental condition and it would be humiliating.

I am confident that I will get better, and I won't let the opinions of others stop me, but it feels terrible knowing that Robert will go into denial about my condition before admitting he was wrong.

There is one more thing that is worrying me, though. My dad offered Stephanie a job. I think he's trying to use her to spy on me. I know it sounds dumb, like I have any state secrets worth hiding, but that's how I feel. I'm sure Chang was hired to do the same thing, and Robert is using Stephanie to do the job Chang can't do anymore since I stopped seeing him.

Maybe I could find out what her thought patterns are by putting her to a little test. She wouldn't appreciate it if I walked up to her and said, 'Please don't spy on me.' Besides, if she actually was, wouldn't she just lie?

That's all I can think of for right now. I'll write tomorrow.

*****

As Scott closed his journal, he left a finger on the page he was on. A thought entered his mind, causing him to re-open it and place a sticky note on the entry he had just completed. He wrote the note, then shut the book.
Chapter Twelve

January 2, 1994

Dear Jesus,

H _ere is my life as it is right now. I get up and read what I wrote in the last two journal entries. Then, I make three sticky notes of the things I need to do, placing them on the wall across from my bed, on the window of my bathroom, and on the steering wheel of my truck. These errands or tasks get done consistently, but I often forget to clean the piles of yellow squares that litter the floor of my truck._

I then go about my day, asking questions whenever I get confused. Most of the time people don't mind, as long as the questions I ask sound intelligent. Usually I end up understanding people a bit better than most, because I have to ask what people are thinking so that I understand them where uninjured people might not. The notes and the questions happen automatically now. Tiffany told me she hasn't reminded me for the past two weeks. That proves I can train the subconscious. Psychologists may not agree with my proof, but results don't lie.

My aunt said that when I first got out of the hospital I would just sit and stare at the wall, and most of the day would pass before I was aware of what I was doing. I had trouble explaining things and would often ignore people when they tried to talk to me.

Since then I've improved a lot. I've noticed when I'm sad I'll still stare at the wall, and when I'm really angry or nervous I'll have trouble talking, but these things don't happen nearly as much as they used to. Thank God for the progress I'm making.

Anyway, there is another small group today and I am looking forward to it. I'll write later tonight.

*****

Tiffany had made snacks a cornerstone of the weekly Bible study. On the table were several fresh pizzas, and those in the group chose from the juices and sodas that were set nearby.

"Let's get started," said Tiffany, upon seeing the empty boxes and hearing the conversation slow down. "Why don't you start reading, Scott?"

Scott began reading, allowing each person to take their turn with a verse.

It was Amy who began the discussion. "I remember what you said last time, Tiffany. It was about how Jesus spoke to people about things on earth before He would try to explain the things in heaven. In chapter 5, verse 19, he says that 'the Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever the Father does, the Son also does.' Families were just as important back then as they are now, and that's something that most people can understand."

"That's a great thought, Amy," said Natalie.

"After He heals the man at the pool of Bethesda, He is asking people to choose which father to model themselves after, the heavenly father through Jesus, or Moses and fathers of men," said Sam.

"Moses wouldn't even have done what the elders were doing, because Moses wrote about the coming of Jesus to earth, so it's like the denial of the elders is being made visible, and they are just getting angry rather than accepting truth," said Scott.

"Mark, What about the people who saw all these miracles, like the loaves and fishes, and they still didn't believe?" asked Stephanie.

"Well, we know that many of the people back then had a lot to gain from things staying as they were. There were tax collectors, Romans, Pharisees, and lawmakers who benefited from the system that Jesus was disrupting."

Scott added a final thought. "Denial was there, too. People lived under certain ways of thinking for generations. If they do not wish to change, it is very hard for one event, no matter how glorious, to undo generations of programming. God set up that free will in all of us, and Jesus was willing to work in that environment that God had set up. He doesn't want blind obedience, He wants belief and choice."

Everyone there agreed with Scott, and Tiffany took that opportunity to bring the Bible study to a close for the night.

*****

"So are you going to work again?" asked Stephanie.

Scott said nothing. He just sat on the couch with Rachel in his lap, who held onto the fingers of his left hand. In his right hand he clutched his green journal. Stephanie tapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh, what? What did you say?" asked Scott.

"Are you going back to work again?"

"Oh yeah. Before the accident I worked in Anchorage, making prosthetic limbs. When Chris gets back in a few weeks, I will begin again," Scott said with a smile.

"You look really happy when you talk about it. Was that the last job you had?"

Before Scott could answer, Rachel started to cry. Stephanie was about to get to her feet when Scott stopped her. "It's alright, I'll see what's wrong and take care of it."

"You're sweet, Scott."

By now Scott was more than comfortable taking care of the baby. He knew almost as much about Rachel's wants and needs as her mother. He set his journal down on the couch, then carried the baby into the next room, leaving the journal behind.

Now is my chance, thought Scott. I need to know if Stephanie is telling my dad private information about me. He changed Rachel quickly, then watched Stephanie without her knowing. After five minutes, he re-entered the room with Rachel. Stephanie had passed Scott's test, and had not peeked into his journal. Scott, however, still felt uneasy. Just because someone passed a test, that doesn't mean they can be trusted, he thought. Chang would never have failed, and if Phillip hadn't slipped up in his conversation with me about what he was being told, I wouldn't have known what they were up to for months.

Scott returned from the nursery, giving Rachel to Stephanie.

"So," said Scott, "how is work at the my dad's office?"

"It's easy," said Stephanie. "I only put up with one psycho at a time, unlike the restaurant business."

"You're dating one of those psychos, you know?" said Scott with a wide grin on his face.

Stephanie laughed. "Yeah, I know."

*****

As Scott drove into Anchorage to begin his work with Chris, several sticky notes were attached to his steering wheel. When he arrived at Chris's shop, he was surprised that he had remembered how to get there, and had only needed the note that reminded him where he was going.

Scott opened the door and walked into the waiting room, where Chris was planning his schedule.

"There you are, kid. Good to see you," said Chris. Chris was tanner than before, having just returned from a two-month trip to Cambodia for volunteer work. Scott had meant to go with him before the car accident happened. He even bought the tickets the day before he received his head injury. "I heard a car accident shook you up pretty bad. It looks like you're alright now, though."

"I was in the hospital for about a week. I still have a head injury from it, but the only big difference is that sometimes I need to remind myself of things. Just tell me what to write down as a note to remember later, and I'll do most of the reminding myself."

Chris continued writing on the calendar in front of him. "Good to know. So let's get down to business. The other prosthetist in town has been swamped with work since I left, and he has a vacation planned next week, so we have a lot of work to do. I'll try to get you started where we left off, while watching you closely. I need to see what you remember."

Scott smiled. "That sounds great."

*****

Scott returned from his first workday since the accident feeling liberated. Taking care of Rachel at Tiffany's home had helped him get used to working again, and the systems he put in place there worked at the prosthesis shop as well. He still felt uneasy talking to Stephanie about his work, however, as he wasn't sure how much he said would leak over to his father, her new boss.

"How was work at the fake limbs place?" asked Stephanie, who was curled up on the couch, reading a novel.

"It was okay. I worked the machines a bit. Nothing bad happened." Scott joined her on the opposite side of the couch, journal in hand.

"What is it like over there?"

He shrugged. "It's like an office, and then a workshop on one side and a physical therapy room on the other."

"What exactly do you do?"

Scott felt like she was prying. "I work the machines. I take measurements, shape the materials, and make molds that fit the measurements. I have a checklist system that I work with just like I do with taking care of Rachel. It works." He stood up, leaving his journal on the couch next to her. "I'm going to bed early. I'm a little tired."

From the crack in the door, where the hinge met the doorframe inside his room, Scott peered over at Stephanie. She casually flipped over several pages in her book, unaware of Scott's new spy game. After a minute of waiting crouched by the door, he started to see what he suspected. Stephanie looked up from her book and at the journal at her feet. After looking to see if anyone was watching, she picked up the journal and flipped it open to the most recent page. Scott's heart sank. He was both pleased with his intelligence at setting a trap, but disappointed that the trap had been sprung. As he watched, her eyes widened and she quickly closed the book, setting it back at her feet. She was finished even before she had time to read anything.

Scott knew it would be terrible for him to 'catch her' in the act, so he left the journal where it was and remained unseen in his room. He followed through with his idea of going to bed, but sleep did not come easily that night.

He awoke the next morning, and began looking for his journal. "Where did I put it?" he asked himself. He left the room and went to the couch, where he found it lying on the middle seat.

"There it is," he said. Since he had found his journal in the living room, he knew he hadn't had a chance to write in it the night before. "I'll try not to let that happen again."

Tiffany was in the kitchen. "You're up early," she said. "Ready for another day of work?"

"Thanks for reminding me, Tiff. I didn't write in my journal last night, so I might have forgotten if you didn't remind me," said Scott.

Tiffany smirked at him. "Yeah, I heard."

"What?" Scott wondered what Tiffany was thinking. "Are you alright? It sounds like you're mad."

"Don't worry about it, Scott. Just enjoy your workday." She sounded much nicer this time, but not enough to convince Scott. He picked up his journal and started reading his last entries.

"It's lovely that we have fresh flowers on the dining table everyday."

Scott looked back at Tiffany and saw the vase which sat on the table. Fresh cut roses had been placed inside. His aunt was changing the subject, Scott knew that. Still, he couldn't help but be surprised at how long they had lasted. "I thought they would have wilted a long time ago," he said.

I wonder what thought pattern she was in, he thought. He wished he had written more in his journal, then he would have known more about what happened the day before. He quickly wrote on the first blank page he came to: 'get Tiffany a gift and take care of Rachel for her when I get back.'

He then went to the mirror in his bathroom and examined the notes he had posted for himself the night before. "Buy bread, go to work with Chris, buy Stephanie a dozen roses," he read silently. He flipped open his journal and stuck those notes in front, as well as adding a gift for his aunt into his to-do list.

Now that he had his routine down, and had not suffered much from last night's forgetfulness, he was ready to start work again.

On Scott's second day back in the working world, Chris was helping a man who needed a replacement ear. Scott sat in the office with Chris, trying to stay involved in the conversation.

"So, how did you lose your ear?" asked Chris.

"Burn injury," said the man, who appeared to be in his early thirties.

"I know that. I meant how did you lose your ear this time?"

"I lost it surfing." The man laughed, pushing back one side of his bleached hair. "I wore it when I was surfing in Hawaii last week and forgot to take it off before going in the water."

"You've got to stop that. I know you can afford another ear, but it takes time to get ears made."

"I was thinking the same thing, guy. I should just get several ears in case I lose one. That way, I won't have to keep coming back so often."

Chris laughed. "I'll do it, but you're one crazy guy, and I'm only doing it so you'll leave me alone," he said jokingly.

"That's great. Thanks. Can you make them in different colors too? I just got a tan and it looks really weird having a white ear and a tan face at the same time."

"You don't seem to care much about being seen without an ear, yet now you complain about the skin tone? It'll take a bit more time, so you'll just have to come back later, Mr. Potatohead."

Scott loved Chris's way of joking. He was a Vietnam vet who connected with people in such a way that he could sound downright mean, but still be seen as a caring guy. At the same time, Chris seemed to have a gut instinct for who would take jokes well and who would be offended by his special kind of humor, never telling a joke to the wrong person.

"How did you lose your ear in the first place?" asked Scott.

Chris looked at Scott, and Scott instantly knew from Chris's controlled reaction that he had repeated a question that had already been answered. The man spoke. "Burn. A fire burned it."

*****

When Scott and Chris resumed their work in the afternoon, they had another appointment for fitting an amputee.

"Try this out by taking a step. Both of us will be here to support you," said Chris.

The middle-aged woman took a careful step with the prosthesis now attached to her leg. As soon as she did, she winced and put her weight on her other leg. "That hurt," she said.

When the woman had sat down again, Chris handed the mold to Scott to adjust the socket. By changing the dimensions of the socket, they would be able to make the leg more comfortable.

Scott walked back into the workshop and set the leg on a table. "What change needed to be made again?" he asked himself. He walked back to the physical therapy room, unable to remember what he needed to do. "Chris, what measurement change was needed?"

The woman looked up at him with a worried look. "Does it hurt more if it's measured wrong?" she asked.

Chris got up and walked into the other room with Scott. After closing the door, Chris addressed him. "Don't do that," he said. "If you are forgetful about things which could cause pain to a patient, it will make their time here much more difficult. Take her for example. She's lost a leg. Her life is hard enough already."

Scott nodded. Chris ran his fingers through his short, black hair. "I'm sorry, Chris. Would things work out better if I write a note saying what the measurement is? I never want to make that mistake again."

Chris agreed. "You do that. This is the measurement."

Scott completed the adjustment and the rest of the appointment went well. The woman learned how to bandage her foot at the point of amputation and within weeks would return for her new leg.

As she left, Scott still felt like he hadn't been very useful that day. He hoped to impress Chris by appearing normal. Instead, he had made Chris look unprofessional in front of clients. Chris looked over from his desk at Scott, who sat in a nearby chair with his head down.

"I don't think you did so bad. It was only one mistake."

Scott looked up at Chris, who would never know the full extent of the head injury and what it had done to his life. "Thank you," said Scott.

"I work with people who have gone through some of the most unfair, ridiculous freak accidents anyone could imagine. These accidents are enough to crush a person's will to fight. I don't believe anyone should stop trying to move forward. Ever. For a long time, I've blamed God for the things that have happened, with my friend in the army, with the people in Cambodia with no one to help them, and with the people who come into my office every day. Now, I just think that if someone loses a leg, or an arm, God has faith that we can keep fighting and win, even after bad things happen."

Chris continued. "I don't know what you went through during that accident. I don't know whether it was unavoidable, some act of stupidity, or whatever. But it's done. Don't take the accident with you. If you can forget anything, forget the part of you that makes you feel bad for screwing up."

*****

The next couple of weeks continued in much the same way. Scott had learned from his mistakes and took notes on everything, but found new surprises around almost every corner. At the prosthetic shop, every case was unique in its own way, in the clients, their lifestyle, their injury, and in their measurements. Most of the mistakes were trivial, like needing to look at the measurements several times before cutting and shaping. Other mistakes caused more trouble, like forgetting what a client wanted, not doing the math right and having to remake a leg, or worse, making someone test something repeatedly that caused pain or discomfort, forgetting that they had already tried it.

Scott could tell that Chris was frustrated. He didn't know how many more chances he could risk taking, so Scott suggested that he work only in the shop, doing the things he was told to do, while Chris would take care of interacting with the customer. Chris agreed, and Scott quickly regretted the idea. The interaction with the customers, Scott soon learned, was the part of the job he had loved the most. Now he was stuck in a back room, not seeing the results of his work; not seeing people walk out of the office on their feet for the first time since their own accidents.

*****

January 15, 1994

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for letting me have a job. I am not doing well in it, but I survived two weeks and I'll at least get a paycheck for that. In a way, I proved I could do it, but I think I'm slowing Chris down. He probably could do just as well without me.

I noticed something the other day. I noticed that I had bought flowers every day for the past several days. Every time I see the note, I take it off my bathroom mirror and throw it away, at least I think I do. The strange thing is that for all the gifts I've been giving Stephanie, she still seems kind of cold. I did test her to see if she was spying on me, but I had to read a few pages of my journal to remember. I wrote a sticky note that said "Stephanie, don't look at other people's stuff" and I hid it in my journal so that she would see it if she ever opened it up to a recent page.

I've spent some time trying to figure out why she's still feeling down. I think it is because she wants people to buy stuff for her, but the men in her life who started relationships with her by buying stuff weren't trustworthy. I keep forgetting that the next morning when I see the note on my mirror, though.

That would make sense. Her thought patterns must be something like: 'Someone who loves me will spend money on me,' 'men who spend money on me are untrustworthy,' and 'I want someone to love me.'

If she was talking to Doctor Chang, he would try to get her to accept that she will always have trouble with relationships. People should be able to get over their thought patterns rather than just accept them. I'd like to see what the Bible has to say about that.

*****

"I'm noticing a pattern here," said Amy, adding her thoughts to that night's small group discussion. "Jesus does something miraculous, the politicians and religious leaders get mad, and Jesus then explains everything in the simplest way possible and the leaders still won't understand."

"Maybe that's one of the main points of the book of John. The people who kept persecuting Jesus were trying to mislead people, even to the point of trying to trap Jesus with the question of stoning the prostitute in Chapter 8. They were willing to have a woman killed just for the opportunity to persecute God's Son. It just shows how deceived they were."

"It's terrible how some of the people who needed Jesus the most still refused to listen to Him," said Tiffany.

Scott looked at Stephanie, who sat next to him with crossed arms. She seemed deep in thought.

"They weren't really free." said Scott. "The politicians and religious leaders used their interpretations of the law to maintain control. Jesus didn't do that. He used the truth to give others control of their own lives. Everyone who persecuted Him was afraid of what they would lose by accepting Christ."

Mark leaned forward on the couch and shared his thoughts. "There's a quote my dad talked about. It's in John 12:25," he turned several pages further to read. "Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity.' So, the people afraid of losing what they had wouldn't have lost much of anything. They just were deceived by the appearance of losing. I mean, everything belongs to God anyways, doesn't it?"

Scott raised his hand to speak again. "Exactly. It says in Chapter 8: 31-32 that 'You are truly my disciples if you remain faithful to my teachings. And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.' The truth will set you free." Scott felt shaken to his core by those words. He had not felt such an epiphany since he was in prison, where he relearned all his previous lessons at a deeper level.

The truth will set you free.

*****

The next day at work, Scott was shaping a limb for one of Chris's patients. Scott had never seen this patient because he had volunteered to stay behind the scenes due to head injury-related mistakes he made with customers. All he could hear throughout the day was the low whirring of the heater, and the sounds of the tools as he used them. He was now on his second week working in this empty world, and to fill the void he felt, he started talking out loud.

"Alright, I still need to finish this one for the lady Chris is meeting with now, then the other two. Now, where were those measurements again?" He scanned the floor until he found the paper he was looking for. It was lying next to the desk where he kept all the measurements. "My system for working here still has some defects I need to fix."

Scott picked up the paper and returned to the band saw, turning it on. "I need to shorten this one by an inch before sanding it."

The alarm on his watch went off, surprising him by its loud beeping. He checked the time on his right hand. 3:30 p.m. "What was that about? Oh that's right, I didn't turn it off yesterday when I got groceries for Tiffany."

He checked the paper in his left hand again for measurements, unaware of how close his right hand was to the still running saw. Mentally, he was halfway between cutting the leg and remembering the previous day when his thumb connected with the saw blade. He reacted swiftly to the sharp pain, moving his now-bleeding hand close to his chest.

Scott looked down to assess the damage, while tears welled up in his eyes. He still had all his fingers. There was a gash where the saw cut halfway into his thumb. He didn't know whether the bone had been affected, but the flesh had been cut deeply. Blood ran down the front of his shirt.

"Chris would know what to do," Scott said, trembling. He kept his right hand close to his body as he dashed out the door of the workshop. Chris was still trying to make his patient comfortable when the door opened. Chris glanced to his right and his eyes widened. Scott approached him, with half the front of his shirt stained in blood.

"Scott! What happened?"

*****

Scott had a large bandage on his thumb from the accident, which the doctor ordered him to wear for two weeks, staying away from work for at least one week. Doing normal activities proved difficult though, and as Scott dialed Tim's number on the telephone, he had to hold the phone with his shoulder and head while pushing in the numbers with his left hand, his bad hand.

"This is Tim."

"Hello Tim, this is Scott." This was Scott's third attempt to call Pastor Tim, as the line had been busy before.

"What is going on with you?" asked Tim.

"I'm home from work. I got my thumb cut yesterday. Now I'm home for this whole week while I recover."

"Let me guess. You wouldn't have taken the week off if you could have avoided it," said Tim.

Scott sat down on the couch and held the phone with his now free hand. "That's right. I probably would have had to take the week off anyway, but I hated how I acted after I got cut. I ran into Chris's office while he was talking to a nervous client. My hand was bleeding all over the place and I walked in on them like that. For all I know I could have traumatized the patient. She had just been out of the hospital for a few days."

"That sounds like an embarrassing situation."

"Chris then recommended I go to the doctor and get patched up, and to take time off for it to recover. I just keep making mistakes, and those mistakes make it hard for Chris to keep his environment friendly and comfortable for his clients."

"Are you worried you might lose your job?" asked Tim.

"That's the thing. I feel like he would have fired me already if he was going to do that. He has a thought pattern of wanting to see me succeed like he has with his clients, but my head injury is a different kind of injury. I'm also different from his clients because they leave after a few hours and I don't. I was thinking about just not working anymore, but I don't want to be useless at work for the rest of my life. What should I do?"

"Firing someone is a stressful experience," said Tim. "Especially if the person being fired is a good person and it is not their fault. If you feel unable to do the job, and only you would know that, then you've got to decide whether or not to quit."

Tim continued. "Whatever you decide to do, Scott, don't let this experience negatively affect your view of work. If that means you have to take a less complicated job in order to keep yourself from being afraid of work, then do that. When you feel ready to try again, look for opportunities, and you will find them."

"You mean make sure your work has the three legs of trust for you?" Scott asked.

There was silence on the other line. It was soon broken by Tim's voice. "I've never thought of it that way. Using the three legs of trust for activities as well as people. Maybe I should start calling you for advice."

"Well, I guess that's what I'll do. I'll find an easier job for now. I'll quit so he doesn't have to fire me. I'll do it for Chris."

*****

Upstairs in the cramped HR office of the town supermarket, Scott sat waiting for his employer to return. Papers littered every corner of the room. Behind him, a large fan blasted warm air, trying to keep the storage area from being as cold as the air outside. Scott had the feeling that the office he was in used to be a home for boxes of cereal, or some other type of dry goods. He had just finished watching three hours of training videos, and he could only remember about three minutes of them. Luckily, he was tested with a paper that asked him to answer questions after each of the many sessions in the videos. This helped him, because he only needed to give one or two answers at a time. What didn't help was the bandage still on his thumb, which he had to wear for another week, and made his writing almost unreadable.

His back hurt from sitting in the uncomfortable chair and he felt sick from helping himself to the bowl of candy next to the small 10-inch television screen. He had forgotten how much candy he had eaten, but he now felt the results of his forgetfulness.

Scott chose to ignore his queasiness as his new boss tapped on the wall behind him. Hearing it, Scott turned and saw the HR manager. "You're all done, I take it?" he asked with an animated liveliness in his voice.

"I am," said Scott.

"Well, you've signed your employment contract and you've seen the videos. What do you say about putting an orange vest on and going into the front lines with your coworkers for the last few hours?"

"Fine, I guess."

He followed the HR man downstairs and through the back alleys of the grocery store, passing through the double doors leading onto the sales floor.

Scott had taken the job he had tried to avoid, and he did it so he wouldn't be scared of work for the rest of his life. At that moment, he was unsure whether he'd made the right choice. He walked up to the ends of the check stands, joining his coworkers who were in various stages of depression, decay, or puberty. Judging by his current state, it looked like his father was right about him. As he built short-lived fortresses out of paper bags, boxes of cornmeal and cans of green beans, he could feel the judgmental negativity of his father hovering over him.
Chapter Thirteen

I _t feels good to go outside every few minutes,_ Scott thought. It was now late March, and he had been working at the grocery store for several months. The pay was low, but he didn't need to worry about getting fi red. He could help his coworkers on the front end of the store, and they were easy to please. When he got tired of doing that, he could always go to the busiest cashier's stand and take the customers' groceries to their cars.

The whole process was simple: build walls in the paper bags with the larger boxes, fill the inside with cans, then put the smaller, crushable items on the top. He only needed to follow this rule, and one other: keep the cleaning products in a bag separate from the food. It was so simple that he spent most of his day on autopilot, and whenever his head injury caused him to forget anything, his surroundings reminded him what step of the process he was on and what he was to do next.

However, Scott's thought process were frequently interrupted every day at work. The most common interruptions were when he would run into former classmates who had gone to college outside of Alaska, and when he saw others he knew from his childhood who he knew held higher paying jobs. His deepest desire at the moment was to have a higher paying job, so Stephanie wouldn't need to work for his dad anymore. He felt a deep tug at his gut when he saw these people, which only grew worse when they recognized him.

If only they had seen me when I was managing a construction company, he thought.

Often his mom would come in. He always helped her before he helped anyone else, but hated having his family see him like this. On several occasions his father came in as well, but Robert was usually received with several whoops of approval upon his entry into the store, which signaled Scott to make himself scarce.

This time, Robert was already waiting for Scott. The supervisor called him by name over the intercom. He saw Robert before he reached the desk, and loathed his choice to work at a grocery store; the one place his father said he would end up.

"On Friday of next week, there will be a dinner at city hall. It is going to be followed by a debate on local issues between me and Mayor Thompson.. Phillip will be there, and I'm expecting you too. My sister is invited, and so is my secretary, your friend. It is a semi-formal event and many important people will be there, so dress nicely. If you don't have nice clothes or cannot afford any, just let your dad know."

"I have some clothes, and I'll be there," said Scott.

Scott finished off his day at work with that last interruption pouring gasoline on the fi re of motivation within him. Not only did his father gloat over the fact that he worked at a grocery store, he now acted like he couldn't afford clothes, too. Since when was being right not enough for my dad? thought Scott.

"One day," Scott muttered as he passed through the sliding doors, "One day I'll say goodbye to this job and I won't be coming back, no matter what."

*****

"This seems stupid to me. Why wouldn't the Jews believe?" asked Stephanie. "It feels like this book just keeps repeating, and it gets worse as it goes along."

The small group was now halfway through the book of John. Sam looked at the text. "It says that scriptures were being fulfilled, things from the Old Testament that talked about Jesus were coming true. I think the chapters are written as they are so that people can look at the scriptures and see all the prophesies about Jesus lining up."

"Okay. Still, why wouldn't they believe? He just raised someone from the dead in the last chapter. If I were there, I would be like, 'Jesus for president!'"

"Stephanie, you're not the only one who was thinking that. Jesus had to get away from several crowds of people to prevent that from happening. Jesus knew they weren't going to believe, and He didn't want to be king on earth, because then He couldn't retake possession of the earth," said Tiffany.

"It says in Chapter 12:43 that they loved the praise of other men more than they loved God," said Natalie.

That sounds like someone in my family, thought Scott.

"It's just like before I started believing in God again," said Tiffany. "I heard what my husband Matthew was saying, but I wanted something else more. Even though Matthew was a great person and kept getting better, I was telling myself a negative story about both him and God, just so I could hang on to my own beliefs and wants."

"You think they were doing the same thing?" asked Scott.

"I do," said Tiffany.

*****

April 3, 1994

Dear Jesus,

I learned a lot in the small group meetings we've been having. We're starting to take our time reading the book, and have even spent one Sunday helping a homeless shelter. I'm glad Tim and Tiffany started these studies, because they are helping me a lot.

Today I connected several ideas. I want to write about them here.

The first was the idea of the truth. John 8:32 says the truth will set you free. I've been doing a lot of thinking about what Chang said. He told me that happiness was the goal of psychology; acceptance of our current situation is the goal of his practice. It seems like the difference in thought patterns between Jesus and Dr. Chang is right here.

Chang is trying to get his patients to reach acceptance and happiness with science's current understanding of their situation, but that current understanding may not be truth. That is one of the reasons I wasn't feeling very free when I was going to the psychology sessions. Chang also seems to like talking about science as if he himself were science personified.

In the last Bible study, we were talking about the Jews and how they often didn't believe in Jesus. The Bible says that they valued other things higher than they valued truth, and often those things were money, praise, themselves, and their positions. They could read the Old Testament over and over and only see what they wanted to see because of what their minds were repeating inside themselves.

That's the second thing: the stories we tell ourselves.

I'm getting better at working with my head injury, and I think I understand why my dad would never believe I could get better. The story he keeps telling himself is that I won't succeed until I go to college and live as he wants me to. Obedience is what he cares about most, and he will tell himself stories that both explain what is happening around him, and filter it so that he can continue functioning with his own belief system.

Tiffany talked about how her belief system continued for years, and I saw that system run its full course all the way to a crash landing.

With these two realizations, I am going to choose to act differently. First, I will seek the truth, because I believe that is the goal psychology should have. It should be the goal of every human being to look for the truth. As for me, I'm going to do that by looking to what God has to say, and not by what I know on my own. If I only relied on what I knew, I would be making the same type of mistake Chang is making.

It must be harder for Chang, because he's getting paid to make the mistake over and over again.

Anyway, the last thing is that my own understanding may get in the way of listening to what God says. Because of this, I need to find out what I care about the most, then apply the truth I have already learned to retell the story I have already going through my mind in a different way. It is like the reflection of God's character in 2 Corinthians that Tim told me about, but I am using my conscious mind to give the transformation an extra push. By doing this, I hope to shape my subconscious to form better belief systems and receive more truth.

*****

Scott returned from a late shift at work to find Stephanie curled up on the couch reading a novel. Scott walked past her and placed his journal on the bed in his room before coming back out.

"Stephanie?" he asked.

"What?" She looked up from her book towards Scott. He took out a handful of yellow sticky notes from his pocket and dropped them on Stephanie's lap.

Stephanie looked down at them. All of them had the same message written on them. "What is all this?" she asked.

Scott sat down on the couch and faced her. "You don't need to lie, Stephanie." She stared at him in surprise as he continued. "I'm not the same as the other men you've dated."

Her eyes moved down to face the floor.

"I felt unsure about whether I was repeating tasks I had already done, so I took the outdated sticky notes off my bathroom mirror and kept them in my room instead of in the nearby wastebasket. I then rewrote the notes I thought I was repeating and placed those in the trash."

"What are you going at?" asked Stephanie. Her face was red and she was breathing heavily.

"Every day, I read my journal, check the notes I have already collected, and then check my mirror. Apparently some notes reincarnate and show up on my mirror over and over again. I must have bought you flowers at least twelve times in the past two months. That of course doesn't include any other things I have been 'reminded' to get you." Scott stared at her, expecting an explanation. He received none except a lone tear that slid down the side of her right cheek. "There are several problems here, neither of which are okay.

"The first problem is that when I buy things for you, you get anti-social and not very nice around me. I think that is because the last few relationships you've had were based upon guys buying you things, but those relationships didn't work out very well."

The stream on Stephanie's face became a river as she began to sob.

"The second problem is that now I can't separate what I did for you out of my own choosing, and what you've made me do for you. How many times have you done this?"

Tiffany arrived and opened the door to see them both on the couch. "What happened?" she asked.

Stephanie looked up at Scott, over to Tiffany, and back to Scott again. "Scott and I are talking." She barely finished the sentence as she tried to swallow the guilt she had been holding back. At hearing this, Tiffany left the room and went into Rachel's nursery.

"Around..." Stephanie sniffed and Scott went to the kitchen to grab a box of tissues. He sat down again and handed one to her. "Around 20 times with the flowers."

Scott handed her another tissue. "And," she wiped her eyes, "five gifts. All the others, you did on your own. I kept throwing away the flowers so that you wouldn't know."

"Stephanie, this really hurts. It's harder to trust you after something like this." Scott waited patiently for her to regain her composure., She hid behind her closed arms, wiping the tears from her face with her sleeves.

The silent moment seemed unbearable to her, and Scott knew what it felt like to have such deep regret, and no other way to express it. He leaned forward. "Come here," he said. She looked up at him, confused. "Come here," he said again. She leaned forward and he wrapped his arms around her. "I want to do nice things for you, Stephanie. I can't keep doing that, though, if you're going to be cold with me later. Maybe it's time you judge how much someone loves you by how they treat you, not just on whether or not they buy you things."

He had also planned to confront her about the romance novels she had been reading, as Scott felt that they were strengthening the story she was telling herself about love; a story about love that wasn't true. However, he felt that Stephanie was already pushed to her limit and that helping her be honest with him was more important.

*****

City Hall was half hidden by other older buildings, pushed behind a thin row of trees. As Scott descended the steps inside, arm in arm with Stephanie, he saw many of the familiar faces he had seen at the New Years' party. Since the party I've seen half of these people at the store, he thought. So that's why they said 'hi' when I was at work.

They entered the largest room, where some tables were set up along with two lecterns on one side of the room. To the left of the lecterns, Scott saw a table with mixing boards and microphones.

"There's the local radio station. They're here to cover the debates," said Scott.

Stephanie nodded and pointed across from the entrance, where several tables of food were set up. "I'm going to take Rachel from Tiffany so she can get some food, okay?"

"Okay."

Scott didn't know when the debate would start. Everyone there already had their first helpings of food and conversation. He made his way toward the front, stopping at the second row of seats.

"Maybe I'll sit here to support my dad. At least he'll know I came," he said to himself.

Before Scott had a chance to take his seat, he felt a hard slap on his back.

He flinched and turned around, seeing his older brother. "I told you not to do that, Phillip," said Scott, barely remembering not to yell in public.

Phillip laughed at Scott. "It's good that you're here, little brother."

"When does the debate start?" asked Scott, hoping to leave the room until he absolutely had to be there.

"Twenty-two minutes," said Phillip, who then leaned closer to Scott and spoke more quietly. "And between you and me, Thompson has no chance."

Near Scott, a radio DJ took a seat at his desk and began talking into the microphone.

"Why don't you get some food before it's all gone? They got everything you could want," said Phillip. "You've probably bagged it yourself."

Scott knew his brother took low shots at his expense, and that reacting would just evoke a fake apology that was as awkward for him to receive as it was for his brother to give. He started to walk away when he heard a voice address him. "Hey, are you Scott and Phillip Calloway?"

The two turned to face the DJ, who approached them with a pair of microphones. Scott and Phillip both nodded, and the man spoke again. "Before the debate, we'd like to hear the sons of the mayoral candidate answer a few questions, just for fun."

Scott had wanted to just walk away, but before he had a chance to answer, both he and his brother were wired for sound and seated in front of the radio desk.

"AM RADIO 420 is proud to present the mayoral debate of Wasilla, Alaska. The main debate will commence in a few minutes, but first I would like to ask several questions of the sons of one of the candidates, Robert Calloway. I am here with his two sons, Phillip and Scott."

Scott looked over and saw his father on the other side of the room. Robert was looking back with a nervousness that would be imperceptible to all but those who had known him all their lives.

"Did you both go to school here in the Mat-Su Valley?" asked the DJ.

"I graduated here six years ago from the Wasilla High School, my younger brother graduated two years later," said Phillip.

"What do you think about your father running for mayor?"

"My father knows what he's doing and he's going to win. We both feel the same way," said Phillip. Scott didn't care if his brother answered for him. The DJ, however, glanced between Phillip and Scott, wanting to send a question in Scott's direction.

"Okay, I have a question just for fun about a political issue. On this question, both state your answers regarding your opinions. The issue is: student-led prayer in school. Should it be allowed to continue or not?"

Phillip answered without hesitation. "Prayer in school is a distraction from learning. I oppose it for three reasons. First, there is no empirical evidence suggesting that God exists. Second, student-led prayer could create a hostile environment for those who are not religious. Third, there are much better things to encourage in schools like volunteer work and after-school learning programs. Next ques—"

"My brother Phillip makes a good point." Scott interjected. "I would argue that same point the other way: that student-led prayer should be acceptable as long as it happens on the student's time. Yes, God cannot be proven, so that also means there is no proof denying the existence of God. Second, atheism is a belief system, too. As Americans, don't we all have the right to all practice our own belief systems? Student-led prayer creates a more equal environment. Third, people want more knowledge than what is just handed to them. I believe that the desire to see beyond our current understanding is what makes progress happen."

Phillip looked at Scott with a smirk. "Yes, but prayer eliminates people's sense of responsibility to themselves to improve."

The DJ was about to go to the next question but stopped, listening to the two brothers with great interest.

"I grew up going to public schools, and I felt that the belief-discouraging culture causes people to not take responsibility for how their actions affect themselves and others. Denying the desire for spiritual connection can cause people to feel like no one cares about them. This leads to a self-destructive thought pattern."

By now Phillip looked astonished at the insightful answers that Scott had given. "Well," he said, "people can do that outside school. School is for responsibility, duty, and being productive citizens. Prayer in that environment is a distraction from these purposes."

Scott wasn't finished yet. "Let me ask the DJ and you to think on these questions. Who would you trust more? Who would you rather hire in your own business? Who would you rather have patrolling the streets or proposing to your daughter? An atheist who believes that survival of the fittest is the most important thing, or a Christian who believes in charity and helping people rise to their full potential? It all comes down to those who act with love, are fully responsible for their actions, and desire the happiness and success of others just as much as they do for themselves. That is the kind of person I would want around me, and that's the kind of world in which I want to live, wouldn't you?"

"Very well debated. Listeners, you're listening to AM RADIO 420. The mayoral debates will start in two minutes, stay tuned."

When the microphones were turned off, the DJ spoke to Scott and Phillip, shaking both their hands. "Very, very well done. I think I know who I'll vote for!" He walked over to the food table, laughing as he went.

"So, I'll see you later, Phillip?"

Phillip leaned back slightly while Scott witnessed the wheels turning in his brother's head. "Not bad, little brother. Not bad."

*****

Stephanie had dreamed of being an ice skater since she was three. Scott wasn't very good at it, but he loved sharing the experience with her on Valentine's Day. A professional photographer couldn't have captured a better picture of happiness than what he saw in Stephanie as she glided around on the ice. He wanted her to have the same warm, happy feelings on Mother's Day, so he took her again.

Scott took his time admiring Stephanie, who glided around the indoor rink. While he awkwardly traveled from wall to wall, she gracefully drew loops upon the glassy ice, etching bright stars onto the floor with her fast spins.

"I'm glad you told me I should go skating more often. I might not have done it if you hadn't insisted." She slowed down and skated next to him.

"You still like it, then?" he asked.

Stephanie laughed as they both skated to the door leading off of the ice. "I've never stopped liking it. Ever since I was little, I would watch the professional skaters on TV with my mom. There was a grace and beauty that all the skaters had that I wanted to feel, but they were skating at such a difficult level that it looked like only they could experience it. I stopped skating when Mom left."

Scott offered his arm to help her walk across the floor to the nearest bench, but found himself needing more help than she did. He held on to the edge of the rink wall with his right hand to steady himself.

"I doubt I'll ever get to the Olympics, even if I tried hard, but I really don't care anymore. I know now what those skaters felt, because I can feel it, too."

They sat down on the bench. Scott unlaced his skates, watching Stephanie, not wanting to miss an instant of the happiness she was experiencing. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with her bangs covering part of her forehead. She tilted her head sideways as she switched legs to remove her other skate, brown eyes bright with the glow of life. Even her chin, which hadn't factored into Scott's first admiration of her, had a cuteness when she smiled.

"I know that feeling," said Stephanie, "because I feel it when I'm with you." She got her shoes on first and quickly gave Scott a kiss. "Thank you, Scott."

"For what?" he asked.

Stephanie giggled at him. "For taking me skating, for buying me a Mother's Day present, for helping me with the thought pattern you were telling me about, so I wouldn't be mean when anyone gave me presents."

"What do you look for when someone says they love you now?" asked Scott teasingly.

"I look for someone who I can trust, who cares about me and not just about gift giving."

Scott laughed, putting on his tennis shoes.

"What?" asked Stephanie, smiling at him.

"Well, I wouldn't avoid gifts completely," said Scott. He got to his feet and pulled Stephanie forward into a hug.

Scott held her close. He lowered his arms, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a square, velvet box. Her eyes widened as he began to slide the ring that rested inside it onto the ring finger of her left hand. When the ring had slowed to a stop, he laced his fingers in between hers.

"I think I'd like to marry you, Stephanie."

Scott didn't feel nervous. He hadn't even planned most of the logistics. Everything came together in the most effortless way.

"I'll marry you, Scott." Stephanie threw her arms around him, almost hanging off of the ground. "I'll marry you."
Chapter Fourteen

Scott clocked in at the grocery store for his next shift. As he made his way to the busiest check stand he could find, he passed one of his younger coworkers.

"Hey, mayor's kid," said his coworker, following a customer outside with a cart of groceries.

Scott heard at least four similar comments before his shift was over. He was glad that his dad would be more involved in the public eye, because he knew Robert wouldn't be so hard on him anymore. At the same time, he remembered when his father had locked him out of the house because he stopped seeing Chang. As his mind wandered, a question surfaced.

What will Robert do now that he doesn't need my cooperation anymore? Scott couldn't imagine what would happen next.

Whatever happens, he thought, I'm not going back to Chang.

Scott pulled several carts out of the parking lot and pushed them towards the entrance, where the doors automatically swung open for him. "I may still have more to learn about psychology, but I'm going to learn it from a Biblical perspective, so I'll avoid studying with anyone who wants me to stop searching for truth."

*****

May 15, 1994

Dear Jesus,

In the small group Bible studies, we're nearing the end of our study on the book of John. Over the past few weeks, I feel each of us have gotten closer to one another and more comfortable sharing things.

This week, the group teased me about my dad's victory. He's mayor now, beating Thompson by several hundred votes. The teasing was much less than what I experienced at work, however, and things became normal again very quickly.

My dad has invited me, Tiffany, and Stephanie to a dinner celebration at a high-class restaurant in Anchorage. We're going to be there to celebrate my dad's election and Phillip's birthday. That will be Friday of this week.

Lord, I have been worried about how my dad is going to act now that he isn't trying to get elected anymore. He may use his increased authority as an excuse to push me around more. I hope Stephanie stops working for him.

Maybe all these things aren't worth being worried about. Am I overreacting?

*****

"Scott, can you call your mom and see what time the reservation is for the dinner on Friday?" Scott heard Tiffany's voice from the nursery and went to the telephone. He didn't expect anyone to be at home in mid-afternoon, but he heard his mom's voice answer.

"Hello?"

"This is Scott. How are you?"

"I'm glad you called. I'm fine."

"Tiffany and I want to know what time the reservation is for the restaurant on Friday."

"Let me see." Scott waited for her to check her calendar. "Yes, it's at 8:00 p.m. We would have made it an hour earlier, but your father wanted Chang to be there as well."

"Chang is showing up?" Scott asked.

"He's one of your father's friends. Ever since his other... you know, Owen died, he's been spending a lot more time with Chang."

"Okay. I also wanted to call to tell you I got engaged. You've already met Stephanie a few times."

"Oh, that's wonderful. I like her. She has a daughter too, right?"

"Yes, and I love her just as much," said Scott.

"Good. She seems like the kind of person who knows how to listen, and your father says she's a hard worker. By the way," Jean continued, "the settlement check from your car accident came in. Thank God that Tim had good insurance on the vehicle or else your father would be really angry. You know how he is about medical bills. If you want, I can put the money in your bank account."

"Okay, that sounds good," said Scott. "By the way, how much was it?"

"After the bills, it came to fifteen thousand dollars and change. I'll go to the bank as soon as we're done talking."

"Thanks, Mom. Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"There is one more thing. It's about your brother. He's been accepted into Stanford for his master's program in psychology. We'll have to celebrate that along with your dad's success at the dinner."

"Good for him," said Scott.

"Well, I want to get that check in the bank for you before they close, so I'll see you in a few days."

"Thanks, Mom. I'll be there. I'll be sure to congratulate Phillip, too."

*****

Several tables were joined together, with white tablecloths covering them. This was the kind of restaurant where the food only took up half the plate. Several forks were lined up next to the plate, and Scott could never remember which ones to use. He had been to restaurants like this before. The last time was when his brother graduated college.

"Tiffany, you couldn't get a baby sitter? I could have hired someone if you had just told me," said Robert, eyeing Rachel.

"It's alright," said Stephanie. "If she starts to make a fuss, I can take her where she won't bother anyone until she calms down."

"Alright then." Robert tapped his glass to get everyone's attention. "As you all know, I won." Scott clapped along with everyone at the table, happy for his dad despite all that had happened. "And I'm not the only one with reason to celebrate. Phillip here is turning twenty-five today and is going this fall to Stanford for his master's degree."

Scott continued clapping. He knew Stanford wasn't a school that would let in just anybody.

"I would like to thank Chang for his assistance in getting him in, and I will do my best to support Chang when he runs for senator in the next election."

"Go, Doctor Chang," said Phillip adamantly.

"That's it, then," said Robert, leaning back in his chair and lifting his glass as a small salute to Chang.

"Not all," said Tiffany, getting the attention of her brother. "I'd like to announce that Scott and Stephanie are engaged."

"Oh, yes, that too," said Robert.

"How do you feel about your injury when it comes to marriage? My experience is that people with head injuries end up losing relationships within a year or two of the accident. Are you sure you want to jump into this?" asked Chang. All eyes were on Scott.

As Scott thought about it, Chang continued talking. "I wouldn't bring up a question like that usually, but Scott and I have worked together for a while now, and I just want to hear his thoughts."

"It's alright," said Scott. "I'll probably get that question a lot in the next few months. We've decided to make the engagement a year long. This will give both of us time to adjust. We also want to be in a better financial situation."

"I always saw Phillip getting engaged first, so this really surprised me," said Robert.

"How do you adjust, though?" asked Phillip.

"Well, I train myself. One example is when I write in my journal. I used to have to remind myself every day with notes to do that. Now, however, I'll write in my journal even if I didn't remind myself with a note. I'm going to use that same process with everything."

"I suppose that could work for simple things, but what about problem solving, and high stress situations that don't repeat themselves every day?" asked Chang.

"This is where I would go on a different path than what I've experienced in our sessions together. I will analyze my thought patterns and change them to others that are better suited to dealing with situations like that."

"How does that work?" asked Phillip.

"It doesn't," said Robert, interjecting. "Well, if it did, then you probably didn't sustain any permanent damage to begin with. Even then, I would question anyone's claim that they can change the subconscious like that after they've already grown."

"Do you agree, Dr. Chang?" asked Phillip.

"One hundred percent," said Chang. "You're talking about the subconscious, and to even try to change the subconscious would require too much focused effort of the conscious mind over a long period of time. Nobody with a head injury would be able to do that."

"So you're saying I never had an injury in the first place?" asked Scott.

"That is the only answer. You were just a little shaken up after the accident, but that was all and it ended fast."

"Let's not discount the effort Scott put in," said Tiffany. "Wasn't it you, Robert, who looked at the brain scans and said he was too damaged to do anything? Since then, he's not only kept his relationships, but he's actually gained some that are closer than he's ever had before."

"Well, I was giving everyone my honest opinion, which I stand by even now. He quit his job working in Anchorage and now he's bagging groceries next to the mentally handicapped. Where was I wrong there?" said Robert, raising his eyebrows at Tiffany.

"Robert, I saw Scott's condition when we took him home from the hospital and when he lived with me, and he had what you said were all the symptoms of a temporal lobe injury," said Tiffany.

"I still forget things all the time," said Scott. "I bought my fiancé flowers around 20 times in a row." He smiled at Stephanie, who blushed.

Even after the food arrived, Robert wouldn't let the subject change. "You must have been like that anyway, and if you want to get your finances under control you can start by stopping that getting married nonsense right there. If you screw this up, I am not paying for your divorce."

"I don't want you to pay for anything," said Scott. "What are you trying to get at? Do you want me to say you're always right? Do you want me to ask you for financial help so you can turn me down?"

"I've been around much longer than you, so you better not get cheeky with me," said Robert. "The subconscious cannot be changed, you weren't really injured, and for all I know, you could have been faking your injury. Was Tim in on this too?"

"Yeah, Dad. Tim and I are involved in a conspiracy to make you pay for psychology sessions with Chang. While we're at it, we decided to get his son in a car wreck." Scott knew his dad was being very irrational, and he figured the best way to deal with the situation was to go with it, even if he couldn't help but sound a little sarcastic.

"Robert, let me handle this," said Chang. "You still have a ways to go before you are ready to live the rest of your life. I recommend you finish the process we started, all the way to completion, to acceptance. That is what your father was really talking about."

"So I can be happy, right?" said Scott. Robert crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Chang nodded. "That's right, Scott."

"I would have kept going if you didn't want me to stop reading the Bible," said Scott.

"Ooh! Scott and religion? Don't even open that box," said Phillip, who glanced back and forth between his mentor and Scott.

"The Bible is a sticky issue for a lot of people, Scott. I find that those who read the Bible don't follow my recommendations and chase after, well, snake oil. There is nothing in the Bible about psychology, and even if there was, none of it would be backed up by science, by facts."

"I'm not going to talk about or prove what is in the Bible to people who don't want to hear it. People would have the same trouble proving evolution. None of us have lived long enough to really tell. All that's left is how we live as human beings, what we choose to believe, and the results that come from our choices," said Scott.

"Exactly. People do as I say, I'm happy, and I also get paid a lot of money. Those are good results. Your dad has the same results, and Phillip is on his way to having more of all of these things than we have. Look at your results, Scott," Chang challenged him.

Scott felt that he had lost. All the things that his father valued came naturally to him and Chang. Meanwhile, he had been suffering at work, and making very little headway with finances. Tim did all right, but he didn't know of anyone else who followed God and was rich. He made a mental note to research books on success; to find people who had both biblical principles and wealth.

"I like how Scott has been doing," said Jean. Robert and everyone else at the table stared at her, surprised. "He's done very well socially, with his relationship with Stephanie, and from what Tiffany tells me, he would make a great father."

"Don't interrupt, Jean," grunted Robert.

"No, Robert. What do you have against Scott? I can't think of a single time where I disliked him because of anything he's done. He has every right to be angry at you right now, and he isn't."

"He's rebellious, proud, and hides in his beliefs."

"He takes it all head on. I don't think Scott would dodge any issue with anyone, like you did with Owen, with announcing your run for mayor after I thought we had agreed not to do it this time, or like you did with Gloria."

Robert opened his mouth as if he were to issue a comeback, but said nothing. Tiffany's gaze darted from Jean to Robert, then back to Stephanie. Stephanie heard the name of her mother and turned her face towards Robert, her expression slowly changing from frustration to anger.

"I think I'm going to leave a little early tonight," said Scott, who rose from his seat and opened his wallet. "Here's my contribution." He handed several ten-dollar bills to his mother. As he turned to leave, Stephanie stood up quickly, not taking her eyes off Robert. Chang watched Robert and Stephanie with a look of amusement on his face.

"You came with me, remember Scott?" said Tiffany.

"You're not planning on staying, are you?" asked Scott.

Tiffany answered him by picking up her purse and standing up.

Robert noticed that half his family was leaving, which gained the attention of diners at the nearby table, who were now watching them intently.

"So disrespectful. I apologize for them," he said to Chang. Before Robert could take another breath, Stephanie slapped him hard on the side of his face.

The slap was louder than the pain it caused, but that was what made it worse for Robert. He kept his head slightly facing right, where the slap took him, but made no effort to look surprised or make any other kind of outburst. Stephanie walked away as Rachel started to cry. Tiffany picked up the baby and tried to soothe her as she followed Scott and Stephanie outside.

"Stephanie! Don't bother coming in on Monday," Scott heard his dad say through clenched teeth. Scott knew she wouldn't.

*****

Stephanie sat in the back of Tiffany's Suburban, with Rachel in the car seat next to her. In front, Scott sat next to Tiffany, who was now driving out of Anchorage and back towards her home.

"I've felt like hitting him so many times, you know," said Scott. "I did once when I was twelve. Boy, did I regret that day."

"You were provoked, I'm sure of it. Look at how he was

just this evening," said Tiffany.

Stephanie had both her fists clenched and in her lap. "I was getting tired of him. He was nice until he got elected, then he started being bossy when I wouldn't tell him what you were up to, Scott."

Scott looked back at her. "So he was trying to use you after all?"

"Yeah," said Stephanie. "Now I don't blame you for using your journal to test me."

Scott leaned against the headrest and took a deep breath. Stephanie had fallen victim to another man. This time it was a work relationship and not a love relationship. Both had happened for the same reasons, though, and he knew that the issues she had with past relationships still existed in the corners of her mind. She might get cold with me again, he thought. "What made you slap him, though?" Scott asked.

"He was mean to you. I didn't like it," she said.

"Are you going to look for another job?" asked Tiffany.

"I don't know," said Stephanie. "I still have a job as a waitress. I want to talk to my mother, first."
Chapter Fifteen

Scott waited patiently in his room. _Tiffany must be doing the same,_ he thought. Stephanie was in the living room, talking on the phone with her mother. Over half an hour had passed and she continued her tense, tearful interrogation. Scott had left his journal on the living room couch by accident, but wasn't about to interrupt her to get it.

He looked around in his room. It wasn't spotless, but it was reasonably clean. He knew where everything was. Most of his stuff was still in suitcases after all this time. "I can't imagine living like this forever. It will be a major challenge trying to get a place to live on Stephanie's income and my income," he said to himself.

"I don't know what happened there with Stephanie and Robert, but if something happened between her mom and my dad, she might not want to spend so much time with me until she gets over it."

Scott could still hear her crying, with her voice incomprehensible behind the closed door. He heard someone knock on the door to his room. "Come in," he said.

Tiffany opened the door and joined him. "Is it rough in there?" asked Scott.

"I'm afraid so," said Tiffany, sitting next to him on the bed. "Gloria was my friend for years. One day, I stopped hearing from her. When I looked into it, I found out she had left town. She called me a few times since her divorce, but she never talked to me about why she left, no matter how many times I asked. Of course, when her daughter called me on the phone, I couldn't ignore the chance to reconnect with her."

"I only met her dad a few months ago. He's a mess," said Scott.

"I visited him a few times just after Gloria had left, but I didn't stay in touch. He wasn't always like that."

Scott continued to hear Stephanie's voice from the other room. "She couldn't wait until tomorrow. It must be terrible," he said.

"Let her bring it up if she wants to, but try not to press her for information."

Scott nodded in agreement. "I know."

*****

Scott woke up the next day still feeling tired. Luckily, he had Saturday off that week. It wasn't tourist season yet and there were no holidays, leaving his schedule open.

He made his way into the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal. He found that Tiffany had beaten him to the kitchen and had decided to make breakfast for everyone.

"I figured Stephanie would like something homemade after what happened last night, then I decided I might as well make something nice for everyone," she said.

"Oh yeah," said Scott. "Last night I sure paid a lot of money to not eat, so thank you for breakfast."

Tiffany pointed to the answering machine on the lamp table next to the couch. "There are two messages for you. Do you remember Stanley?"

"Uh, I don't think so," said Scott. He walked over to the machine and hit play.

The first voice Scott heard was the familiar voice of Tim's son, Mark. "Hi Scott. I'm looking forward to the next group meeting. I'll bring food this time. Anyway, I received a call from two people named Stanley and Janette. They are the married couple who met us when we went hunting; the ones that got pulled over by the Coast Guard. They called me at work and said they were looking for you, so I gave them Tiffany's phone number. Expect a call from them. Okay? Bye."

The message jogged Scott's memory. He had met the two after a bad hunting experience. They sailed boats around the world, and made the money to do so by transporting other boats from place to place. After unknowingly hiring a fugitive, they were stopped by the Coast Guard and had to return to port. Scott helped the family get back to Anchorage airport. Even now, he could picture the two happy people with their children as he listened to Stanley's voice on the second message.

"Hello? This is where you live, Scott? We have just been doing transport jobs since we last talked. We wanted to upgrade our boat to make it better for traveling full time in Asia, so we're docked back in Washington. We took another job in Alaska, and we would like to meet you again, so give us a call. Here's our number —"

Scott paused the tape and walked back to his room, grabbing his journal and pen. He then came back out and wrote the number they gave him.

"...Maybe you'd like a free boat trip to Washington on us. What do you say?"

The message ended, and Scott sat down at the dining table.

"I appreciate their call, but traveling to Washington with them? That seems a little crazy, don't you think?" Tiffany asked.

"I think I'll call them back," said Scott.

"I have my doubts about you going off to Washington like that. You do have a head injury, don't you remember?"

"I want to try because I have a head injury. I'll have to get used to living on my own sometime, and spending a few months in Washington would allow me to test myself for a short time. Ever since Fisk told me another misunderstanding could put me in jail, I've been wanting to go somewhere else to avoid taking that risk every day," said Scott.

Tiffany set a plate of waffles on the table. "Stephanie left for the restaurant earlier, you know. This plate is yours."

Scott took a seat at the table and starting pouring syrup on the warm squares. Tiffany came over to Scott and put her arm around him. "What will you do for money?" she asked.

"I'm sure I can find work. I did construction for several years with Matthew, and I managed your company. I'll look for something a bit easier than managing, though. I'm tired of bagging groceries and want a change of scenery. If I can't find a job, I still have money from the accident settlement, as well as the rest of what I made working for you. That's more than what I need for just a few months."

"Go ahead and call them back, Scott. Let's plan this out so it will work out for you."

*****

That afternoon, Scott waited for Stephanie to get off of work. He took care of Rachel, who was restless and not taking her usual nap. Scott cradled her in his arms as he thought about how he would talk to Stephanie about moving. If she's for it, he thought, then I have no problem and will talk about the details of going down. If she isn't into the idea at all, then I'll tell her it is for personal development and make sure she knows it's just a temporary trip. I could always come back sooner if needed. I'll also make sure there's always a way she can reach me by mail or by phone.

Stephanie arrived home soon after Scott had finished preparing for the conversation. She opened the door and saw Scott at his usual place on the couch, bouncing Rachel on his lap. "Stephanie, welcome back," said Scott.

Stephanie picked up Rachel and held her upright. She gave a mild chuckle as she felt Rachel in her arms. "She's gotten much bigger," she said.

"It's crazy how fast she's grown, isn't it?" said Scott. He looked over at Stephanie, admiring her eyes. "What do you think about moving? You know, out of Alaska?"

"You're crazy," said Stephanie, smiling.

He shrugged. "Yeah, so what? I'd be just as crazy here as anywhere else." He took a deep breath. "I'd like to take a trip to Washington. I thought that we could start looking for places to live, and Washington would be a great place to look."

"Scott, I'd like to go, but not right now."

"I know Stephanie. I meant alone," said Scott. He watched her reaction carefully as her eyes narrowed. "Two friends of mine called. They do boating for a living, and they asked me to go next week. I told them I'm interested, but I want to make sure you're okay with it before I commit. From what I can see, it looks like your family and my family have a complicated history. I don't know all the details, but I think it would be good for you to have time to yourself. If we're going to get married, I want it to be a choice you can make without hesitation."

Stephanie rubbed Rachel's back with one hand. The baby began to breathe deeply, easing into her afternoon nap. Stephanie blinked several times before nodding. "Okay. Yes. Good."

"Are you sure?" asked Scott.

"Yes. I mean I'm completely, one hundred percent sure. I'm sorry I haven't been open with you about what's been happening. You see, my mom had an affair with your dad. That's why she left Alaska, leaving me behind. That's the reason behind my father's depression. He knew she had cheated, but didn't know who it was. It came as such a surprise to him, coming home from work to see everything she owned gone and not even a note saying goodbye. She apologized to me last night, but it feels like too little, too late. You see?"

Scott nodded.

"You're a great guy, Scott. You see what I need before I say anything. You know how many people I know, including my family, who would have been so much better off if they were so intuitive?"

Stephanie got up from the couch and walked over to the nursery, laying her daughter into her crib. Scott got up and followed her. "Scott, I need some time to separate everything out. I feel like I'm finally directing the anger I feel towards the person who truly escalated the problems my family had, and I'm not sure I want that man to be my father-in-law."

"It's bittersweet, isn't it?" said Scott, forcing a small laugh. "All this time you were working for my dad, while I was wishing you'd dislike him enough to quit. Now, you dislike him more than I do, but it doesn't make anything easier." Scott opened his arms, inviting his fiancé to a warm embrace. As she took his invitation, he patted her on the back. "I'll make sure to be just a phone call away. We'll talk as much as you want, and I'll shorten the trip from three months to two if you change your mind, and become desperate to marry me."

Stephanie laughed.

"Or if you just miss me and need me to come back, okay?"

"Sure, Scott. Thanks."

*****

"I'm going down south, so I'm handing in my notice now," said Scott, placing the note on his boss's desk.

As he replayed the scene in his mind later that day, he really wanted to say something more dramatic and closer to the point. "I quit," or "I'm not going to do this kind of work ever again." Regardless of what he said before, he was in his truck headed back to Tiffany's home, after achieving the end result he wanted. He had quit his job at the grocery store.

It was late afternoon, and the sun had broken its winter curfew, staying up as late as it could. Soon, people would come up from all over the country to do the same. It's a good month to leave Alaska, Scott thought. Especially if I'm leaving by boat.

He pulled into his aunt's driveway. There were five other vehicles parked there. "Oh, right. There's a small group meeting. I forgot about that," said Scott, who parked as far to the left as he could. He knocked the mud off his boots and opened the door.

"Surprise!"

Scott heard the elated voices of his friends from the small group meetings as they welcomed him in. My birthday is at the end of the month, thought Scott. What are they doing?

Tiffany came out of the kitchen and gave Scott a hug. "This is a thank you for helping me with the small groups, and to give you a friendly send off before you go down south."

"It's all of you I'd like to thank," said Scott, as Mark handed him a glass of soda. He admired the fact that all his friends were there, along with his undecided fianc_é, Stephanie, his aunt Tiffany, and his mother.

"Mom?" said Scott, surprised to find her with his small group. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Your aunt told me you were leaving," said Jean.

"Does my dad know?" asked Scott.

"Yes. I would go, if I were you. I know how much you'd like to see the world, and I'm proud of you for how far you've passed everyone's expectations."

The dining table had become a potluck. Everyone contributed to what was an unforgettable party. Before long, the party fragmented into several groups, leaving Scott alone with his mother again.

"What about you, Mom? I heard about what happened between Dad and you know who..."

"I don't know yet. I don't really feel the need for a divorce. Your father had acted inappropriately years ago, and he's promised me that he hadn't acted that way with anyone else since then. Your aunt invited me to attend the small groups here at the house, and I'd like to know this Pastor Tim I've heard so much about, so I think I'll visit his church this week. Can you introduce me before you leave?"

"Sure thing, Mom."

*****

If Scott could think of one person he'd like to talk to before he left Alaska, it would be Tim. Tiffany insisted that he stay in touch with Tim while living in Washington for what they decided would be three months, and Scott couldn't agree more. After the party ended, he picked up the phone and gave him a call.

The phone rang several times before Tim answered. "Hello, this is Tim."

"Tim, this is Scott."

"Scott. What's going on? I was just wondering what you were up to."

"A lot has happened. You know my dad is mayor now?"

"I did, I voted for the other guy," said Tim.

"That's funny, I voted for my dad."

"That comes as a surprise to me. For most of your teenage years you were such a rebel, and it was logical for you to be that way. What caused the change?"

Scott sat down on the couch. "My dad is nicer when he has to be in public. I thought that electing him would keep him in a better mood. It hasn't made much difference after the election, though."

"How does that make you feel?" asked Tim.

"Surprisingly, not that bad. Stephanie saw both his good and bad sides and quit working with him. She still needs some space after some big family revelations between her and my Dad. I won't go into details, but it wasn't good. So, I decided I would take a boat trip with two friends of mine to Washington, staying there for a few months."

"That sounds like something that would worry your aunt. Did you tell her?"

"I did. She was worried, but now she's on board with the idea. I just told her that I wanted to test living on my own for a few months. If it doesn't go well, I can always come back. Plus, if I get married to Stephanie, if she still isn't mad about what happened with my dad, we would be looking for a place to live. Washington is a good place to explore for that. I know that Stephanie came back to Alaska because she felt she had to, so being able to help her move out would mean a lot."

"It sounds like you've thought it out pretty well. I know people without head injuries who plan things out way less than you do."

Scott took it as a compliment, as Tim knew many people and always had good intentions with him. "Thanks. I learned a lot from you, the Bible studies, and even from Chang."

"You're doing it, then? You've started connecting psychology and the Bible together?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"What did you discover? Can you explain it to me?"

"I can," said Scott. "The first thing is that we all have thought patterns. There are hundreds of thought patterns about many different things in our lives, but usually you can figure out the one or two thought patterns that a person uses the most by looking at what they do and why they are doing it. Chang said we must accept our thought patterns and that they are hard if not impossible to change, because everything was programmed in childhood. The Bible says in 2 Corinthians that 'by beholding, we become changed.' I'm paraphrasing, of course, but it says that we can be transformed by new experiences."

Scott waited to see if Tim was still listening. "I understand, go on," said Tim.

"In John, when Jesus is talking to Nicodemus, he says we must be born again. It is almost like Jesus is saying you must experience childhood again. If that is a requirement for receiving salvation, then it must be possible to work with your mind as if you were a child, as an adult."

"Scott, I like what you've said. I just wanted to give you another verse that's not in John. It is one of my favorite verses in the Bible. Romans 12:2 says, 'Don't copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God's will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.' Have I ever read that to you?"

Scott leaned forward. "You have, but I completely forgot! Can you give me a minute to write that down in my journal?" He set the phone down on the couch and went into his room, grabbing his journal. After writing the verse down as simply 'read Romans 12:2 before bed,' he picked up the phone.

"I'm back," said Scott. "That is helpful because it agrees with what I've studied and it fills in another gap I had."

"What was the gap?" asked Tim.

"Well, I read in John that the truth will set you free, so I knew that instead of pursuing 'happiness' by itself, which really isn't happiness, the goal of psychology should be to pursue truth. As Pilate says in John 18, 'What is truth?' I've been trying to figure out how to write out my thought patterns in a way that lines up with truth. Truth, from what you've told me, is what pleases God, the only being who has the three legs of trust perfectly for me."

"You've connected a lot of dots, Scott. Now you start to see a bigger picture, don't you? It's almost like you're Darwin, discovering a connection that gives people an explainable, larger picture of the world."

"Yeah," said Scott. "While I don't agree with Darwin's teachings, I appreciate what he did. I'd love to do for psychology what he did for science."

*****

Tiffany had helped Stanley and Janette Martin the year before, when Scott first met them. She had given them a ride in her Suburban to the airport. Both she and Scott were excited to see them again after so long.

They arrived at the train station, where Stanley and Janette were waiting. Scott opened the Suburban door and strolled up to them carrying a suitcase and a duffel bag. He reintroduced himself to both of them before doing the same with his aunt, who followed close behind.

"Scott. Good to see you. Looks like you haven't changed much," said Stanley, shaking Scott's hand.

"I've actually changed a lot, mentally speaking."

"That's the most interesting type of change," said Janette. "We half-expected you to be in the jungle, building people new arms and legs."

"We have a lot to catch up on, then. Where are your kids?" asked Scott, searching to the left and right for their children.

"They are in Washington, spending a week with some friends, and finishing up a round of homeschooling before we make any major plans. Right now, we're here with the Nelsons, our clients. They should be back from getting a rental car very soon," said Stanley.

Tiffany told them about how she sold her business, while Scott filled them in about his car accident, and the head injury that followed. By the time Scott began to explain about thought patterns, a middle-aged couple approached them.

"Let me introduce you both to Charles and Ana Nelson."

Scott shook hands with both of them, along with Tiffany. "So, are you going to be alright here?" asked Stanley.

"The car won't be ready for about two hours. I made sure of that because I thought you two might be hungry. Come eat with us. Your train doesn't leave immediately, and you can always catch the next one," said Charles, who seemed like a difficult person to turn down. "You're welcome to come with us too, if you'd like," he continued, turning his gaze toward Scott and Tiffany.

They took a taxi to the nearest restaurant, where Ana told them all of their travel plans. "We had already been on the ocean for several weeks on the way to Alaska, so we thought we'd go tour Denali National Park and then fly back. Stanley and Janette were introduced to us by a friend of ours, with glowing recommendations. So, that's how we got to know them, and, God willing, we will be back in Seattle with our boat in easy access."

Scott thought about how he had met Stanley and his wife, then decided it was best he say nothing about the details of that chance meeting. "What do you do when you're not sailing?" he asked.

Charles smiled and took a sip of water before speaking. "Real estate development. Both commercial and residential, but mostly commercial. We have offices both in Seattle and the San Francisco Bay area."

"Sounds like you've gone a bit further than I have," said Tiffany, who then retold her story about the construction company, and how Scott managed it until it was successfully sold.

"How long will you be staying in Washington?" asked Janette.

"Just two or three months, unless I see some really good prospects for staying," he said.

"Here's my card. Drop me a line whenever you get to Washington and if you want a job, I can at least give you an interview for working on one of my projects," said Charles. Charles reached into his vest jacket to pull out a business card. "I'll take one too," said Tiffany, squeezing Scott's hand beneath the table.

It really feels like the Lord wants me to go down there, Scott thought.

"He has leadership skills, too, leading both my company and helping organize a study group made out of members of our church," said Tiffany.

"We go to church, too. What have you been studying in your group?" asked Ana.

"Right now we've been going through the book of John." Scott replied. "The studies have really impacted my life because they helped me line up what psychology says with what the Bible says, so now I'm able to find freedom from a lot of negative thoughts that were created earlier in life. I'd love to start a similar group down there and continue what I've learned, giving people a simple model through which to view the world. Darwin did that with evolution, and while I disagree with what he taught, I would love to do for Christian people what Darwin did for science."

"That is a really interesting thought. I'm sure there are many people looking for something that would make sense in their lives, and if that something came from the Bible, it could happen," said Charles.

*****

Hours later, Scott was above deck on a forty-foot yacht. He helped Stanley prepare it for sailing as best he could, but he clearly had much to learn. Both Stanley and his wife were unfazed, and confident that he would get the hang of it. Now the Nelsons' yacht, The Horizon, was cutting through the waves towards its destination, and towards Scott's new home.

Scott looked back on everything that had happened since the day he left the Marshall Islands. He felt an inner peace that he had not ever felt before, and this feeling was something Scott had no trouble putting into words: God has the three legs of trust for me better than anyone ever could. As the boat sailed southeast, the scenery glided by him. The birch trees and flowers were out in full bloom, showing off their summer colors. This was an end to a chapter in his life, and the beginning of a brand new one.

He excused himself and went below deck to write in his journal. His entry became more and more like a list of things to be thankful for. Despite all the challenges he faced, and the disadvantage his head injury would continue to be, his heart was overflowing with happiness. This was a happiness that Chang couldn't have found, and neither could his father. It was a happiness that his Father in heaven gave him. He could change the subconscious, experience a second childhood, and tell stories with his life that gave that same happiness to others. Scott finished his entry, filling up the last page of Uncle Matthew's green journal. He placed the journal respectfully in his suitcase and joined his new friends above deck.
Epilogue

You've reached the end of this story. As the main character, I would like to thank you for reading. In Book 1, you were able to learn about trust. In the last sixteen years of my life, coaching and helping people deal with trauma, I have found that trust is the foundation of all relationships. In Book 2, we talked about the model that Christ demonstrated for us in having three close friends (Peter, James, and John), twelve good friends, and seventy acquaintances. In this book, we talked about the subconscious mind and how patterns of thinking can be changed. These are the most important lessons of my life. If you've been following those lessons, then you've learned some valuable tools that can change your life and the lives of those around you. There may be other stories you can read that involve me, but from now on I'll try to do the same job for those stories that Pastor Tim did in my own.

You don't have to be a pastor to do for others what Tim did for me. You do, however, need a knowledge of what patterns of thinking people are using in order to work well with them. This knowledge will help whether you are a student, team member, leader, teacher, or pastor.

In this book, my weakness led to discovering this great tool. If I had not had a head injury, I would not have learned how to train my subconscious mind or use thought patterns. Luckily, you don't need to bump your head to use this tool.

I couldn't wait until this book was completed so that worksheets could be made for it and given to you. They are at the end of this section of the book.

Now what?

Before understanding thought patterns, I found that there were still quite a few gaps in my knowledge. I would get angry very suddenly, or sad, or depressed, and I wouldn't know why. Emotionally, my armor had some serious chinks in it. I had a healthy three, twelve, and seventy, but I needed a system for working with them better, a system I could customize to their own unique situations. What I found was thought patterns.

Thought patterns are the core of this book. Everyone has them about everything. Finding and understanding thought patterns in your life, and in those around you, can help you have a better life.

Why You Need to Know About Thought Patterns

By studying thought patterns, you can understand what is going on in your own head. Whenever you find yourself fighting a sudden change of emotion, you can look at what motivates you to find out which thought pattern is being challenged. After you identify the pattern, you can decide to strengthen it, weaken it, or replace it with a better one. If you find that you suddenly change your mind or your mood drastically changes, you can find out why as well.

In the next few pages, I will explain more about thought patterns and how to use them, then you will have several worksheets that you can make copies of and fill out.

What are Thought Patterns?

Before you know about patterns of thinking, you must first know about triggers, and how they cause us to switch between different patterns of thinking.

Patterns of thinking are like a small chain that go in a circle, with each link connected to the link in front and behind. That chain is a pattern, the paradigm through which we view the world.

To put everything in perspective, let me give you an example of two patterns in my mind from back then.

The first pattern could be: Since the head injury, I can't work a good job, and that means I'm worthless.

The second could be: I'm priceless because I love people and have insights into relationships that few others have.

Depending on my situation, I will change from one pattern of thinking to the other. These two are linked together to form a paradigm about how I value myself.

Triggers are the experiences we have on a daily basis that change which paradigm we are in. In the two different patterns I showed you earlier about my self-worth, the choices I make when I feel worthless will be different from the ones I would make when I value myself. Take either pattern and imagine where I would be in five years if I believed only one or the other.

Triggers can make me go from the 'worthless' pattern to the 'valuable' pattern. I could receive a compliment from Stephanie about my relationship skills, or make new friends. To become triggered in the opposite way, I could receive a negative comment about my future from my dad, forget an errand Tiffany wanted me to do, or cut my thumb on a band saw. If you haven't already, you will soon see many examples in your own life that reveal how a trigger can cause you to change thought patterns.

How to Use Thought Patterns

One of the biggest differences between people who fail and people who succeed again and again is their sense of personal responsibility. Thought patterns can be a tool for taking responsibility for your feelings and using the influence you have with others more wisely. It will also help you have the three legs of trust at a higher level. I will now lay out a simple step-by-step process for identifying thought patterns and changing them.

Regaining control of your thought patterns

\- Identify the thought patterns

\- Identify the triggers between the thought patterns

\- Consult the truth

\- Apply the truth to alter the thought patterns

\- Strengthen the true thought patterns and weaken the false ones

Assisting others in thought patterns

\- Identify thought patterns

\- Identify any possible triggers

\- Stay humble

\- Apply: strengthen and weaken thought patterns and use triggers to keep thoughts focused on best possible thought pattern

The Truth

Seek to alter all your thought patterns in a direction of truth, or you'll just have to do the work over again. In my life, I chose the Bible because of its familiarity, my religious belief in God, and because the book had survived for thousands of years. Usually, religious texts that survive so long contain thought patterns that enable their believers to live from generation to generation. The Bible's longevity gives its pages credibility. I found that the Bible was a better source of truth than my humble, 22-year-old existence. I'm not telling anyone to become Christians or abandon their current belief system, but I will always advise clients that the beginning of wisdom is to understand that you need greater understanding, and that the Bible is a great place to find it.

In the book, Chang wanted to alter thought patterns towards happiness, not towards truth. I almost felt sorry for him because he was so smart, but he did not want to look for wisdom beyond his peer-reviewed journals. In short, his usefulness was caged in by research done by a few people in laboratories. It would only expand when those few people published something. The Bible says, 'The truth shall set you free.' Chang had a large cage full of rewards, but just because you have a big cage, it doesn't make you free.

Here's another example of that same thought pattern in action: About seven years after my story, a film came out called The Matrix, which is one of my favorite science fiction films. In it, a character named Cipher betrays the heroes of the film because he valued happiness over the truth. As a result, he sided with characters who didn't have his best interests in mind and died at the hands of those he betrayed. The film portrayed very accurately the negative consequences that come from ignoring the biblical principle that 'the truth shall set you free.'

No matter how much truth you believe you have, always look for more. If you look for it, you will find it.

Denial

Denial is a God-given tool that your brain has. When we encounter a situation that is too painful, we oftentimes will block the memory. Healthy people will come to the reality of their situation and process through the painful experience one small piece at a time. With my coaching practice, I have helped many people who have been through major trauma. As I am talking to them, they will tell me about an experience as it was related to them, but not have any memories of it. Oftentimes, they will have nightmares or be afraid of certain things that were associated with the traumatic experience. As they process through the pain and then come out of denial, they come to understand why they've made the decisions they have made. Then, they are able to let go of the pain that was associated with that experience.

The best way to deal with denial is to have a strong three, twelve, and seventy. If your brain is blocking something out, someone in your three would never allow denial to hold you back from making the changes you want to make. An even better option is to study these concepts with people close to you, so that they will be more aware of when something is holding you back. Doing this will also increase your knowledge, and that can sometimes be what you need to come out of denial.

Using Thought Patterns to Work With the Injustices of Life

Following biblical principles is always the best long-term strategy. Unfortunately, we are sometimes punished for doing the right things, and worse yet, rewarded for doing the wrong things. The first time someone notices this, it is usually during childhood. When a child mentions this observation, a well-meaning teacher or parent will often respond by saying, "Life's not fair." This phrase is said occasionally with bitterness.

Looking at my story, life was unfair. When I was in the Marshall Islands, I was forced to leave because a nurse gave me undiluted antibiotics. In Alaska, I got kicked out of my parents' house for asking about my uncle's boat. Months later, I got into a car accident that resulted in a head injury. Every person's situation is different, and that means there will be so many unfair situations that I cannot address them all.

Here's what I can do for you: I can give you the tools to work through your thought patterns and suggest that you use these tools to manage the injustices in your own life. Several examples are listed here:

1. You do not get to choose who your birth family is.

You get no say in who your siblings, parents, or grandparents are. For the first eighteen years of your life, their personality and life situations have an almost unbreakable grasp on your potential and your environment. If they do not have the three legs of trust, and you cannot leave, then you cannot simply let go of your family. Use your knowledge of thought patterns to understand their motivations, and help them stay in the best thought patterns that you can. When you are in a situation where you can change who is in your three or twelve, then you can, and you will, have the skills to succeed if you have developed them with the people who are now in your life.

2. You don't get to choose what your natural strengths are.

This can be troublesome, because what you are called upon to do isn't always what you're good at. By understanding thought patterns, you can help each other improve in those areas of weakness.

3. You don't get to choose when your brain uses denial.

The very idea of denial is that your brain is unaware of it. The only way to stay in denial out of choice is to avoid truth on purpose. If you are seeking the truth, your chances of getting out of denial are much better, because when you line up two thought patterns side by side, the part your brain is hiding is easier to locate. Studying thought patterns in a group will help you fight denial.

Helpful Tips for Using Thought Patterns

I am proud of you. You are well on your way to breaking free of all the lies and negativity that have held you back for so many years, and eliminating them at their root. Before I say goodbye, let me leave you some parting advice.

1. Don't be scared of what you see. When you look deeper into your thinking, I expect you to find some positive and supportive thought patterns. What I also expect is that you will see some ugly, negative, even evil thought patterns. Keep in mind, when you become aware of your thinking, that you are not evil, stupid, or ugly. Every thought pattern that you have exists because you perceived that life has rewarded you for thinking in that way. The truth is that some patterns may have helped you survive but not thrive. It is now time to replace the outdated, obsolete patterns with high-quality, relevant patterns.

2. Always work on your own thought patterns first. This will not only help you understand thought patterns better, but it will make you more effective in working with others. If you start with others and do not work on yourself, you will not have the respect you need to get others to listen to you.

3. Don't worry about the length of the thought patterns. So far, I have used simple examples, but our lives are filled with so many rich experiences, and just as many ways to interpret them, that our thought patterns can be complex! Dig as deep as you can into the truth and into your thought patterns, and as long as you take action with the best knowledge you can get, life will improve. Don't let uncertainty about the length of a thought pattern hold you back from taking action.

4. You won't catch everything the first time around. Even a strong knowledge of thought patterns won't make you infallible. Remember, just like a bulletproof vest, I cannot promise that you won't get hurt, but being prepared with good armor can minimize the damage. I can't promise a life free of depression, sadness, anger, or emotionally toxic fights, but I can help you reduce the instances, damage, downtime, and chances of getting hit.

May God bless you on your journey to becoming Emotionally Bulletproof!

\- Scott Calloway
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The Three Legs of Trust - Worksheet #1

The three key aspects of trust are having integrity, getting the job done, and having other people's best interests in mind. A person cannot have a high amount of trust without possessing all three. Rate yourself on a scale of 1 to 10 on each, then add up the total and divide by three to find your overall level of trust. This is a good starting point to figuring out where you stand. A more detailed explanation of each of these aspects is in the end of Book 1 of Scott's Story, as well as worksheets to help you increase each of these. Feel free to make copies and use this as much as you want.

Integrity

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Getting the Job Done

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Having Others' Best Interests In Mind

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Total = __ /30

Average (total/3) =___

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Who are Your Three, Twelve, and Seventy? Worksheet #2

Your three, twelve and seventy are those you know around you. Your three are your closest friends, your twelve are your other friends, and the seventy in your life are your acquaintances. In Book 2 of Scott's story, you'll find more on how to use this tool.

People usually start in your seventy and then move into your three or twelve as you get to know them better. The exceptions, who end up in your three before being in your twelve or seventy, are people you should watch closely, especially when it comes to trust.

How did you score on the three legs of trust? Now it's time to assess your friends. Maybe you noticed that there were some similarities in your score and in theirs. Usually, we don't pick friends who score higher than we do; we're often equal with our peers.

When you work on changing your ability to be trusted, you'll find friends who match you—the more trust there is, the more meaningful the relationship will be.

In private, write the first name of each person in your three and twelve, and write down their level of integrity, having others' best interests in mind, and getting the job done. Remember, this is only based upon your experience as you have seen them deal with you and others around them. From there, you can choose to place higher trust people closer to you.

Your Three

1.___________ 2. ___________ 3.___________

Your Twelve

1.___________ 2.___________ 3.___________

4.___________ 5.___________ 6.___________

7.___________ 8.___________ 9.___________

10.___________ 11.___________ 12.___________

Your Seventy = Everybody Else

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Understanding Thought Patterns - Worksheet #3

Thought patterns are repeated mental experiences. They determine which actions we take in any situation, and changing them will change our actions. Remember, our current thought patterns do not make us bad people, they are only made up of obsolete paradigms that we will replace with truthful ones. This can be done by yourself or with a coach.

Example: A young single woman is looking for Mr. Right, and things aren't going as smoothly as she would like. She needs to identify her thought pattern and the truth behind each paradigm to write a new truth-aligned thought pattern.

1. I am lonely and want a boyfriend —> 2. Having a boyfriend is fun —> 3. All men are immature jerks —> 4. I'm better off alone —> 1. I am lonely and want a boyfriend —> 2. —> 3. —> 4. —> 1, etc.

The truth about all thought patterns:

1. I will be lonely until I can develop a healthy three, twelve, and seventy.

2. When a man is in my life, I feel more important to both him and my friends.

3. When someone breaks my trust, I don't want to spend time with them.

4. I would rather be alone than surrounded by people I cannot trust.

The goal with changing thought patterns is to break out of a cycle that isn't getting you where you need to be. The first example can be repeated for a lifetime, with the poor young woman not getting anywhere in her quest for a relationship. The truth-aligned pattern, however, will cause her mind to find the right solutions without wasting time in unsuccessful paradigms.

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Understanding Thought Patterns - Worksheet #3 (page 2)

Write out each thought pattern, then directly beneath, write out the truth behind each of them. If you have a hard time knowing which thought patterns to write, you can use negative comments you say about yourself as thought patterns in the exercise. These truths will help you develop a better pattern for your mind to follow.

Thought Pattern 1: _______________________________________________________

Thought Pattern 2: _______________________________________________________

Thought Pattern 3: _______________________________________________________

Thought Pattern 4: _______________________________________________________

Truth behind each thought pattern:

1._____________________________________________________

2._____________________________________________________

3._____________________________________________________

4._____________________________________________________

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Isolating Paradigms - Worksheet #4

When scientists in a lab are trying to make a discovery, they isolate what they are trying to measure so that they only see the things that matter in their experiment. Now, we are going to do that with your paradigms. If you had trouble with the last sheet and didn't fill it all out yet, don't worry. Fill out as much as you can, then come here to isolate those few paradigms. This sheet will help you ask yourself the important questions about your current paradigms and help you find a more truthful alternative. I have provided an example for you from Chapter 13, with a thought pattern Stephanie was struggling with.

1. Establish the thought pattern.

People who buy me gifts just want to use me.

2. Identify the situation that created it.

My mom would buy me things as a child then use them as leverage to make me do unpleasant things.

3. List the triggers that cause you to return to this paradigm (from the previous one in your thought pattern)

Whenever someone who loves me buys me a gift, I return to this thought pattern.

4. What feelings do you have when you are in this paradigm?

When in this paradigm, I feel like the gift giver is holding their love for me on a string over my head, forcing me to jump.

5. Sort out the truth and lies about this paradigm. If you stayed with this paradigm for five years, where would you be? What about the new paradigm you're considering replacing it with? Would your life improve if you adopted that one?

If I do not change this paradigm I'll either continue to date people who use me, or I'll never be able to receive gifts thankfully.

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Isolating Thought Patterns - Worksheet #4 (page 2)

Now it's your turn. Fill out the answers to the five questions below and write them in the spaces provided.

1. Establish the thought pattern.

2. Identify the situation that created it.

3. List the triggers that cause you to return to this paradigm (from the previous one in your thought pattern).

4. What feelings do you have when you are in this paradigm?

5. Sort out the truth and lies about this paradigm. If you stayed with this paradigm for five years, where would you be? What about the new paradigm you're considering replacing it with? Would your life improve if you adopted that one?

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Understanding Triggers - Worksheet #5

Triggers are the life experiences that cause you to move from one paradigm to the next. Most of these are automatic because we've been through the same patterns so many times. The moment they stop being automatic is when you look at them and change them. Once they are changed, they can become automatic again, and you can focus on other things while your mind automatically makes the better choice.

In this example, Scott is deciding whether or not to support his dad in his campaign to be mayor of the town. Notice how by choosing to think different thoughts, Scott is able to act more intelligently in how he interacts with his father and others around him.

Thought Pattern

"I'm learning a lot from Chang"—> (+ Trigger) Phillip Mentions things that should have been confidential —> Chang does not have the three legs of trust for me

Result: Scott Establishes healthy boundaries — continuing his education with Chang

"I'm learning a lot from Chang" —> ( - Trigger) Phillip mentions things that should have been confidential —> I'm going to 'get even' for this betrayal

Result: Scott becomes angry and vindictive — creating further chaos in his life

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Understanding Triggers Worksheet #5 (page 2)

Now it's your turn to think about a time in your life where deciding upon a different trigger will cause different results. You can think about a current situation, a past experience, or imagine some event in the future.

Choose a trigger that will move you towards a paradigm aligned with truth. If you are working on the thought patterns of other people, you can choose the trigger for them through actions as well as thoughts. Fill out the sheet and write at the bottom how you feel the positive trigger will yield better results than the negative trigger.

Thought Pattern

_Thought Pattern _______________ __ —> _(+ Trigger)_

—> _______________________________________________

—> _(Next Paradigm) ______________________________________

Result: _______________________________________________________

_Thought Pattern ________________ —> _( - Trigger) ______________________________________________

—> (Next Paradigm) _______________________________________

Results: _______________________________________________________

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Ability to be Trusted in Different Thought Patterns - Worksheet #6

In order to see whether or not you can be trusted, you need to see the truth about your thought patterns. Once you understand and know yourself, you can become so much more. Take a look back on Worksheet 3 or 5, and pick two of your opposing thought patterns. Write them down here, along with your trust score for each one. Then reinforce the truth about both of your thought patterns. Since you're writing down the truth about each thought pattern, your score should be about 95% for each leg of trust.

Thought Pattern 1: _______________________________

3 legs of trust: __________________________________

Integrity: ______________________________________

Getting the Job Done: ___________________________

Having Other People's Best Interests in Mind: ______________________________________

Thought Pattern 2: _______________________________

3 legs of trust: __________________________________

Integrity: ______________________________________

Getting the Job Done: ___________________________

Having Other People's Best Interests in Mind: ______________________________________

The Truth About Both Thought Patterns

1. ______________________________________

2. ______________________________________

3. ______________________________________

4. ______________________________________

Integrity: _____ Getting the Job Done: ______ Having Other People's Best Interests in Mind: _____

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
Changing Thought Patterns - Worksheet #7

Changing thought patterns can be an easy process or it can be hard. It all depends on you. Are you willing to change some of your thought patterns? First, take two opposing thought patterns. Write them down in this worksheet, along with thoughts that support each thought pattern. Then choose more positive ones. You will find this takes time. Thought patterns don't change in an instant. It's a matter of building them up and tearing them down. This worksheet and the next are designed to help you through this process.

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Thought Pattern: _________________________

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Reinforcing Thought: [_________________]

Opposing Thought Pattern: ___________________________

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"

Changing Thought Patterns - Worksheet #8

Positive Thought Pattern

1. Foundation for this thought pattern:

OR - The first thing you remember that reinforced this thought pattern:

2. More positive reinforcement:

3. More positive reinforcement:

4. More positive reinforcement:

Negative Thought Pattern

1. Foundation for this thought pattern:

OR - The first thing you remember that reinforced this thought pattern:

2. More discrediting:

3. More discrediting:

4. More discrediting:

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
The Truth About Denial - Worksheet #9

Denial is a defense mechanism the brain uses to protect itself from trauma that it may not be able to deal with at that moment in time. Instead of acknowledging the truth, you might consciously or unconsciously store the information in the back of your mind, so as to forget about the trauma because of how your brain handles it. Why, then, bring up such terrible things to memory? So the problem can be dealt with and you can become a healthier person.

It's not always the big things that cause you to go into denial. Often, small things are shoved into denial as well. You'll need a friend for this one, unless you have just come out of denial for something and are now ready to process through that. Most likely, though, a friend will be necessary because you can't tell yourself what you're in denial of! Write on this worksheet what you can remember about something in the top two tuna cans, then have your friend help you with what you're in denial about. You'll see that this may not be a fun process right now, but surely you'll see the benefits in time.

CHANGEABLE THOUGHT PATTERNS

[Reinforcing Experience/Thought]

[Reinforcing Experience/Thought]

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX <— Wall of Denial

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX <— Wall of Denial

UNCHANGEABLE THOUGHT PATTERNS

[Reinforcing Experience/Thought]

[Reinforcing Experience/Thought]

[Reinforcing Experience/Thought]

Thought Pattern

___________________________

If you have questions or want to email a story about your experience using this worksheet, send an email to "dgallen@authordavid.com"
