The Road to Mercy (6 page)

“Beth—”

“No! I don’t want to talk about it.”

She punched the remote button on the door to open the passenger side window and closed the subject. For good.

They rode in silence, while Beth stared out the window. A lot had changed since she last passed through these streets on the outskirts of downtown Nashville. In one week’s time, summer had surrendered completely to fall. The trees, which had once been dressed in red and gold, now stood with their branches almost completely exposed. Fall pumpkins and corn stalks still decorated the front porches and lawns of the
beautiful, older homes in their community, but frost had muted the green foliage surrounding them.

East Nashville was a picturesque, peaceful, and convenient place to live. A handful of nearby markets and restaurants made shopping easy. It was also close to the center of Nashville and three interstate highways that connected the city to outlying suburbs and shopping malls. Titans’ football stadium and the Bridgestone Arena were just across the river. The accounting office, where she worked, was less than half a mile beyond.

As Josh drove through the streets of their neighborhood, the cool morning air whipped across Beth’s face, helping to ease her queasiness. She breathed in the fresh early winter air, remembering she had almost died last week. Yet, today, she overflowed with life.

The glimpse of heaven God had allowed her to see last Sunday would stay with her forever. It had changed her life and was enough to get her through this ordeal. No matter how difficult.

With that thought, the guilt settled in on her again. What would Josh say when he knew everything? When would she tell him about her past sins and the real meaning of this child to her? She feared the truth might send him out of her life forever. A tear slipped stealthily down her right cheek as Josh turned onto their home street.

“We’re here,” he said, breaking into the silence between them and then stopped the Jeep in front of their small blue cottage, a place she had loved since the first time she saw it. The place they had called home for almost a year, since shortly after they married.

Beth wiped the streaks of moisture from her cheek and returned her husband’s smile. “It’s good to be here.”

Almost immediately, Beth saw Alex step off her front porch and wave. Her neighbor’s broad smile was contagious from
thirty feet away. She rushed to the curb, as Josh helped Beth out of the Jeep. “Good to see you, girl! How do you feel?”

“Like a bulldozer hit me.”

“Are you hungry?” Alex looked from Beth to Josh. “I made chicken salad.”

Just the thought made Beth’s mouth water. While she didn’t care for most of Alex’s ultra-healthy cooking, her chicken salad was exceptional. “You know I love your chicken salad.”

“Sounds great.” Josh slammed the car door after removing Beth’s bag from the backseat.

“Okay! I’ll bring it over. I made fresh bread, too. See you in a minute.”

The perky redhead hurried back to her white clapboard house, one of the most unusual houses on the street. The modified Cape Cod had a deck built over the front porch, a place where Alex often set up her art supplies.

Beth’s stomach growled. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. Not only for home cooking but also for home. And time alone to think about how her life was changing.

Thank you, God, for giving me a second chance
.

“Lunch was great,” Josh said, before taking a long drink of sweet iced tea. “The best meal I’ve eaten in six weeks.”

“Thanks. But I’m sure anything would taste good, just because Beth is home.” Alex smiled and then turned to Beth. “Your release from the hospital is an answer to prayers. Everyone at church has been praying.”

“We’re humbled by that,” Josh said. “It has been too long since I was in town on a Sunday morning. I’ve missed being able to attend services.” He looked at Beth, who was nodding
off at the table. “Why don’t we move to the living room and talk for a few minutes?”

While Alex cleared the dishes, Josh dug into the bag of prescriptions they had purchased on the way home. He compared the label instructions to the doctor’s orders, and then extracted Beth’s midday medication. The amount of pills she was supposed to take boggled his mind. He handed his wife a glass of water and two tablets. “You need to take these,” he said.

Beth frowned and then swallowed the pills.

When they adjourned into the next room. Josh took a seat in his favorite chair beside the fireplace. Alex sat cross-legged on top of the ottoman near the window. And Beth snuggled into the nearby sofa.

“I’m thankful you’re home,” Josh said to Beth before turning to Alex. “And I’m thankful you can help her while I’m gone. I’m committed to touring almost until Christmas.” He shook his head and stared into the fireplace. “Not great timing, but it will help pay the medical bills.”

The expression on Beth’s face dropped when he mentioned their extra expenses. Perhaps for the first time she fully understood the impact her illness would have on their finances.

“I guess I can’t work for a while, huh?” She studied her hands, which were clasped together in her lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to worry about it, honey,” Josh assured her. “I want you to stay home. To get well. I’ve already called Bob Bradford.”

Beth’s boss, and Josh’s accountant, had promised that Beth could return to her job when she was ready. But in the meantime, everything would rest on Josh’s shoulders.

“I’m here to help,” Alex said.

“You have no idea how much we appreciate it. You’ve already done a lot,” he told her. “But we don’t expect you to do it for nothing.”

Alex shook her head. “Please don’t worry about that.”

“We won’t accept your help any other way.” Josh hoped he wouldn’t offend his neighbor, because she represented the best option they had for Beth’s caregiver.

He glanced toward Beth, who was now preoccupied with Buster. The little dog had crawled beside her on the sofa and laid his head on her lap. Josh turned back to Alex. “It’s worth a lot of money to me to leave with the knowledge that we have someone capable to watch over her.”

“I’m here for you. I’m here for Beth,” Alex said.

“It may not be an easy job.”

“I understand.” She looked from him to the sofa and smiled.

Beth had dozed off.

That night Josh fully understood the implications of his words. His wife slept fitfully, so sleep tread lightly across his consciousness. He roused at one a.m. to discover Beth’s side of the bed empty. Straining to listen through the darkness, he recognized the sound of running water in the bathroom.

Before he could climb out of bed to check on her, Beth’s silhouette staggered through the door. He watched her pick her way across the room, as if navigating a minefield. When she reached the foot of the bed, she collapsed onto the floor. Almost like a building imploding into itself, her legs gave way and her body folded.

Josh threw back the covers and rushed to his wife, gently lifting her upright. Beth’s limp body gave in to him without effort. He braced her sturdy frame against his shoulders, holding her with a firm grip.

Without warning, she began to laugh hysterically.

The spark of fear and concern that had been lit in his gut a moment ago ignited into anger. How could she do this to him? To their child?

“Stop . . . Beth. Stop it!” His reprimand crescendoed with each word. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see her staring at him, as if in shock. Then, she started to sob. She embraced him with shaky arms and buried her head in his chest. Josh rocked her in his arms, holding and comforting her for several minutes until she had settled down enough for him to lead her back to bed.

For the remainder of the night, he lay awake considering what their life had come to and where they were going. Beth slept without incident for the next few hours. She rested so peacefully he found himself straining to watch her diaphragm rise and fall, assuring himself she continued to breathe. Twice she had nightmares, or presumably so. She muttered irrelevant bits of conversation aloud, and her muscles jerked and flailed against themselves.

Josh considered reaching out to awaken her and soothe the pain of her tortured dreams. But he feared that would only burn the images of the hallucinations into her conscious mind. So, instead, he prayed. He asked God to have mercy on his wife and on their child.

And to help him get through the next eight months.

Ka-plop. Ka-plop. Ka-plop.

Isaac rolled his bicycle beside him as he walked home from the flower shop. The front tire had gone flat. It was ruined this time, and he knew he had to find a way to replace it. His bicycle represented the only freedom he had.

Grandfather had sent him home early today to help Mama Ruth prepare for Shavuot, the Jewish Festival of the First Fruits. His handlebar basket was piled high with flowers and greenery to decorate the house. Uncle David, Aunt Rachel, and his cousins, Adina and Eli, would be coming over soon for the all-night celebration, a time for reflection on God’s gift of the Torah. Shavuot represented both ending and beginning to the Jewish people. It was the time when they had been freed from enslavement, before the giving of the law to Moses on Mount Sinai.

Mama Ruth would serve her usual Shavuot evening meal of roast chicken, noodle kugel, fresh vegetables, cheese blintzes, and fruit. Afterward, they would read the harvest story in the book of Ruth. Then they would play games and spend the night discussing the Torah.

Grandfather would be home before sunset, which meant Isaac had a full hour to convince Mama Ruth to help him buy a new bicycle. For months, he had saved his allowance and the small amount of money he had earned working in the school cafeteria. Yet his savings fell short of the $89.95 necessary to buy the silver Schwinn Manta Ray he had already picked out at Frankie’s Hardware.

Isaac had spent hours staring through the front window of the store, two doors down from his grandfather’s shop. The five-speed, muscle bike had a Stik-Shifter and medium rise handlebars. All he needed to buy it was eleven more dollars, plus change. He should be able to sweet-talk that amount from his grandmother, given enough time.

He opened the door to their brownstone, the only home he could remember, and rolled his old bicycle into the entryway.

“Isaac, you’re here!” Mama Ruth looked up from the hall table where she was arranging a bowl of fresh fruit. She stepped to him, brushed the curls from his face, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled. His grandmother must now stand on her tiptoes to embrace him.

She held him at arm’s length. “You look so much like your mother. I miss her.” Moisture filled her eyes. “Ah! Enough sentiment, old woman,” she muttered to herself. “Quickly, son, gather the silver candlesticks and cheese platter from the breakfront. We must finish the preparations.” She nudged him in the direction of the dining room and resumed her work.

“Yes, Mama Ruth,” he said, securing his bike in the far corner of the entry before he set out to do his chores.

Isaac knew in his heart it was his grandmother’s love that had kept him here for almost twelve years. Without her, he would have run away when he had been old enough to take care of himself. Grandfather’s old-fashioned ways and chilly
self-absorption would have driven him out, just as it likely did his mother many years before.

Or, perhaps, the strange religion had drawn her away. Isaac knew very little about his real parents. His father, Michael, his mother, Rebekah, and his brother and sister had been killed soon after he was born. There were times Isaac wished the accident had taken him too. He often wondered what life would have been like with his family.

Mama Ruth still grieved for her daughter. But Grandfather refused to even speak of her. “
Cherem
. She is dead to me. I do not want to hear her name,” he would say.

The words hurt Isaac. He never understood how someone could deny flesh and blood. To throw them away like a faded flower on a broken stem.

On a few occasions, when Grandfather wasn’t home, Mama Ruth had shown Isaac photos of his family. His mother’s beauty took his breath away. He would always do his best to commit to memory the details of her eyes, her nose, and her hair. He tried to imagine her smell, the softness of her voice.