Authors: Philip Gulley
S
am Gardner sat in the hospital waiting room slumped in his chair, nearly asleep. He glanced at his watch, five minutes before midnight, and was relieved to see an end to what had been his most dreadful day in ministry. It had begun innocently enough, with a quiet morning at the office following by a pleasant lunch at home with his wife. Dolores Hinshaw’s phone call had changed everything.
It had taken him five minutes to reach the Hinshaws’ home, where he’d found Dale lying on the couch, clammy, listless, and incoherent. He’d taken one look at Dale and calculated that by the time Johnny Mackey arrived with his ambulance Dale might well be dead. So he loaded the Hinshaws in his car and lit out for the hospital in Cartersburg.
Dale revived within a few hours, cheered by the doctor’s news that, even though his heart’s previous owner had been a liberal, political perspectives were not contagious and Dale could expect to live the remainder of his life as hidebound as before.
“Thank the Lord,” Dale said, his voice gaining strength by the moment.
Sam had driven them home at three o’clock, walking them to the door and promising to touch base with them the next day. He drove the three blocks to his house, pulled his car into the garage, and walked through the back door just as Barbara hung up the phone, visibly upset and near tears.
“That was Miriam. Amanda’s been in a wreck. A dump truck driver ran a stop sign. They’ve lifelined her to the hospital in the city and need you up there just as quick as you can. She and Ellis are just now getting ready to leave.”
“Call Frank and let him know,” Sam said. “Have him get the chain of prayer going. But first call Miriam back. Tell her I’ll be by to pick them up. They’ve got no business driving in their state of mind.”
Miriam and Ellis were standing by the road next to their mailbox when Sam arrived. Miriam was pacing in circles, tears streaming down her face. Ellis was trying to console her and failing miserably. Sam helped them in the car, turned around in the driveway, and sped toward the city.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“It’s all my fault,” Miriam said. She choked the words out, barely able to speak for the spasms of grief coursing through her. “Ellis didn’t want her to drive, but I told him we couldn’t keep her at home forever. Now I’ve probably killed her.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Ellis said, his voice trembling with distress. “This could have happened to anybody. The sheriff said it wasn’t even her fault. The other driver ran the stop sign. There was nothing she could have done.”
Then they fell silent, praying to themselves as the miles rolled away.
It took an hour and a half to reach the outskirts of the city, then another hour to make their way to the hospital through the rush-hour traffic. By the time they arrived, Miriam had collected herself, but Ellis had grown more distraught. Sam dropped them off at the emergency-room entrance, then went to park the car. He found a spot nearby and rushed into the hospital just as a nurse approached the Hodges.
“She’s critical. They’re still working on her. We don’t know anything yet.”
“We want to see her,” Ellis demanded.
“Sir, right now your presence would be a distraction. Let’s let the doctors do their job. Just as soon as it’s possible, we’ll let you in.”
“Tell her we love her,” Ellis said, his voice catching.
Sam steered them toward a group of empty chairs in the waiting room. “Let’s sit down and pray,” he said.
Sam Gardner had never been a proponent of public prayer, but that all changed as he sat beside Miriam and Ellis, clutching their hands. “Dear Lord, please be with Amanda. Guide the doctors and guard her life. Be with her and be with Miriam and Ellis, that they might know Your healing peace.” He grew quiet, still holding their hands, praying a prayer that went beyond words.
There was a stir of motion near the door and they glanced up to see Amanda’s parents, Ralph and Sandy, bustle into the room, their faces creased with worry.
“Where is she?” Ralph cried out. “Where’s our girl? Frank called and told us she was here.”
Miriam rose and went to them, taking their hands. “She’s being worked on. They won’t let us see her just yet.”
She directed them to a set of chairs away from Ellis. No sense waving a red flag right in front of him. Sam walked over and sat with them for a few moments, consoling them.
Across the room, a mother and her daughter were airing their discord on national television as an audience cheered them on. What a sick world this can be, Sam thought glumly. He went over to the television and poked the power button off. They thumbed through the worn magazines for the next several hours, reading the same lines over and over, distracted with worry, before the emergency-room door opened with a bang and a doctor walked into the waiting room. “Hodge,” he called out.
Miriam and Ellis and Ralph and Sandy stood.
The doctor looked at them, confused. “Amanda’s parents can go see her,” he said. “But just her parents. We don’t want a lot of people back there. We’re still working on her.”
Ellis stepped forward, but Miriam pulled him back. “Honey, we’re not her parents. That’s Ralph and Sandy. Let them go be with her.”
Ellis began to weep, standing in the center of the room, his body limp with misery.
Ralph placed his hand on Ellis’s shoulder. “You go on ahead. You’ve been better parents to her than we ever were. Sandy and I, we can wait.”
Miriam and Sandy stood watching their husbands. Ralph hung his head, the burden of his failures weighing especially heavy in this moment of confession. As for Ellis, he’d never been so thoroughly ashamed. The events of the past year ran through his head like a fast-forwarded movie—his cold rebuff of his brother, his hard words, his rigid refusal to believe anything good about his brother. My Lord, he thought, I hit my own brother, my own flesh and blood, and all he wanted was forgiveness. Ellis was glad his parents weren’t alive to know the depths to which he had fallen.
The hateful weight that had burdened Ellis Hodge for years lifted from him and he turned to his little brother, crying, drawing Ralph toward him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sorry I hit you. Sorry I was so mean to you.”
Ralph held him, patting his back. “Don’t you worry about any of that.”
The two men stood, hugging one another, not speaking, just thumping one another on the back and healing their break.
“Why not both of you go in there and Sandy and I will wait out here,” Miriam said after a bit. “It’ll be good medicine for Amanda to see you two together.”
“Let’s go, brother. Let’s go see your little girl,” Ellis said, walking toward the door, his arm linked with Ralph’s.
Sam watched on from his chair, dazed by this grace. Being a pastor at Harmony Friends Meeting didn’t allow for many opportunities to witness reconciliation, and he stored the event away in his memory for a future sermon illustration. Of course, he’d have to change the names and wait until the Hodges died, but it bore remembering just the same.
They allowed Ralph and Ellis to stay for five minutes before shooing them out so Miriam and Sandy could see her. Amanda’s head was swaddled in bandages, her lovely hair shorn off. An IV needle was taped to her arm. A nurse stood beside her, peering at the machines blinking by her bedside. Amanda’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.
“We’ve got her pretty doped up,” the nurse explained. “She needs rest. She took a real knock to the head. We’re afraid her brain might swell, so we’re keeping a close watch on her.”
“How can you fix that?” Miriam asked.
“With drugs mostly. But if it gets bad, we might have to remove a portion of her skull,” the nurse explained, taking Miriam by the hand. “I know it sounds terrible, but it isn’t as bad as it sounds.”
Miriam felt like vomiting and had to fight back a rise of bile.
“Is she going to make it?” Sandy asked, steeling herself for the answer.
“We’re doing everything we can,” the nurse promised. “It all depends on how her brain responds and whether she’s bleeding internally. We’re going to run a CAT scan in just a little while. We’ll know a lot more after that. Now why don’t you all go get something to eat, and if we need you, we can page you at the cafeteria.”
So they went, all the Hodges and Sam, and pushed food around their plates for half an hour before trudging back upstairs to sit in the waiting room.
Around eight, Sam phoned home to hear his son’s voices, thanking God they weren’t lying in a hospital bed with holes in their heads. Barbara told him a group had gathered at the Hinshaws’ home to pray. “It was Dale’s idea. He said, and I quote, ‘With folks in the meeting dropping like flies, we need to get right with the Lord before he takes us all out.’”
“Well, bless his heart,” Sam said. “But shouldn’t he be resting? He’s had a long day too.”
“The boys and I stopped past there and he looked fine to me. He was propped up on the couch, telling everyone else what to do. I guess the doctor did tell him he needed to stay off his feet a couple weeks. Besides, you know Dale. Having a cause perks him up.”
Sam chuckled.
“Kind of makes you glad you gave him CPR, doesn’t it?
“He does have his good side,” Sam said. He paused for a moment. “You know, it feels weird saying it, but I’m actually growing fond of Dale. He’s not all that bad a guy, really.”
“He sure comes through in a pinch.”
“That he does,” Sam agreed.
“Miss you, honey.”
“I miss you too,” Sam said wistfully.
“When will you be home?”
“Just as soon as we know she’ll be all right. But don’t count on me tonight. Probably tomorrow morning some time. Can you call Frank and tell him I won’t be at the office?”
“Will do. Be sure to tell the Hodges we’re thinking of them.”
He hung up, glad he could be present for the Hodges, but wishing he were home with his boys, ending the day with a game of checkers at their kitchen table. Wishing Amanda Hodge had driven through the intersection ten seconds later. Wishing, wishing, wishing.
The nurses brought them blankets, and they fashioned pallets across the chairs and settled in for a night of fitful sleep. They stirred around five the next morning and went immediately to Amanda’s room, where the night nurse greeted them with mixed news. “She doesn’t appear to be bleeding internally, but there’s still swelling in her brain. We’re trying a new drug to see if it helps.”
They retreated to the cafeteria for breakfast, where Ellis and Ralph sat side by side revisiting the misdeeds of their youth in an effort to distract themselves.
“Say, Ralph, remember that time Dad went out of town on that big fishing trip with Abraham Peacock and told us to paint the barn?” Ellis mimicked their father’s deep voice. “Now boys, I want you to paint the whole barn, from top to bottom, and I want it done by the time I get home.”
“So we painted the windows too,” Ralph said with a snort.
Miriam and Sandy had heard this story a hundred times, but laughed again, enjoying their husbands’ camaraderie.
“How about that trip you and Dad and me took to Colorado?” Ellis said. “Remember that?”
“I never went on that one,” Ralph corrected him. “That was just you and Dad. I asked to go, but Dad said no. Said someone had to stay home to finish the haying.”
Ellis felt a pang of guilt.
“Can’t tell you how many times I wished he’d have let me go. I started drinking that week. Oh well, water under the bridge.”
“I’m sorry,” Ellis said, reaching over to place his hand on Ralph’s knee. The brothers sat quietly, each of them wishing they could undo certain decisions.
Sandy interrupted their musings. “Why not let’s get some breakfast? I’m a little hungry.”
“You do that,” Sam said. “But I need to go home.” He promised to return the next day. Then he remembered Ellis and Miriam were without a car. “How will you get home?”
“They can ride with us,” Sandy said.
“Thank you, honey,” Miriam said, reaching over to hug her sister-in-law.
“Well, then, I guess I’ll be going. You all take care and I’ll be in touch.”
With most of the traffic heading into the city and Sam heading out, he reached the outskirts quickly, then turned onto the highway to Harmony. For a February day, it was pleasant, and feeling the sun on his face lifted his spirits. He found himself praying for Amanda one moment and the next moment thanking God for Ellis and Ralph’s cease-fire. Who would have thought it?
Growing up in a small town, Sam could name family after family riven by discord. Brothers and sisters who went to the grave carrying their bitter animosities. People who went to church faithfully and taught Sunday school lessons about mercy and pardon and then would boycott the family Thanksgiving. So to see Ellis and Ralph make their peace was a balm to him.
He stopped past the meetinghouse before going home and told Frank all that had happened, then went home and kissed his wife, who made him shower and go to bed, where she lay down too, snuggling alongside him.
“Glad you’re home.”
“It’s nice to be home,” Sam said, staring at the ceiling. They talked about Ellis’s change of heart, then about Amanda, and Barbara began to weep quietly, thinking of her.
Sam drew her closer and kissed her forehead. “She’s gonna be all right. She’s a fighter.”
“Our sons are never driving,” Barbara declared.
“It does make a person regret the invention of the automobile,” Sam agreed. “We were probably better off riding horses.”
Then Sam fell asleep, while Barbara watched him, feeling his breath rise and fall against her. She loved the smell of him. Soap, shaving cream, and the cheap shampoo they bought by the gallon from Kivett’s Five and Dime that had a fruity smell and caused flies to dive-bomb their heads in the summertime.
After a half hour, she slipped out of bed to make lunch—grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Sam’s favorite. Lunch for the conquering hero, her pastor, who moaned incessantly about his job, but deep down loved what he did. He would never admit to it, but after fifteen years of marriage, she knew. Could read him like a book.