Renata and the Fall from Grace

by Becky Doughty

  "He looks better, Renata. He really does. You hang in there, too, okay?"

  The curtain drew back again and a man in black pants and a white dress shirt peered into the crowded space. "I'm Luke Simons. Clergy. I just ran into the transfer team out in the hallway. They're coming in shortly so I won't stay, lest I get in the way." He handed Renata a card. "I'll come visit you in your room in a little while, all right?" His handshake was warm and confident, and Renata noticed how he didn't seem at all disturbed by John's appearance.

  "Mr. Dixon?" He leaned close to John's face and spoke quietly. "I'm praying for you, brother. I'll be back when you're settled in your room."

  John squeezed Renata's hand in response. She could tell his pain was intensifying just by how still he was.

  At that moment, a man in a navy blue set of scrubs poked his head around the edge of the curtain. "We're here for Dixon, John. Is he ready to transfer?"

  Nate turned to Renata. "We're moving him to the Critical Care Unit. Your nurse up there will go over all the test results with you and will advise you on the treatment plan for your husband."

  He came around the end of the bed and put both hands on John's ankles, but stood so that he was turned slightly away from John. "Mrs. Dixon, your husband is a fighter," he said quietly. "He's strong and healthy, and he's much more settled now that you're here." He indicated the monitor behind him. His voice dropped a little lower. "It's going to get harder before it gets better, but don't let yourself get discouraged. He's a champion." Then he turned and faced John again.

  "You're a champ, John Dixon. Don't you forget that." He pulled the curtain open and directed Renata and Grandpa to stand aside to let the transfer nurse in.

  "I'll see you upstairs in your room, honey, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right behind you." Renata leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. "I love you. I'm right here."

  When they wheeled him out into the hall, Phoebe and Juliette were standing against the far wall. Phoebe's eyes grew wide and frightened at the sight of John's terrible injuries, but Renata kept on walking. From the corner of her eye, she saw Juliette take Phoebe in her arms, the younger woman's face pressed to her shoulder, then Renata looked away, hoping they'd follow.

  Grandpa stayed right beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder blade. She let him lead her along. When they reached the Critical Care Unit, a new medical crew took over immediately.

  The nurse spoke kindly to them. "It can be difficult for family members to watch this part. You're welcome to stay, but it might be easier on everyone if you just step out of the room until we have him comfortable."

  They worked remarkably fast. Within what seemed only moments, John was hooked up to monitors and IVs, his face washed, his lips coated in some kind of salve. He looked much better and considerably more comfortable. The nurse dimmed the lights and informed them that he was now hooked up to a good pain medication and that he would probably sleep much of the time.

  "That doesn't mean he won't know you're here. There's nothing more helpful to our patients than having loved ones around when they open their eyes, no matter how briefly. We have an Ophthalmologist coming in later today after the swelling goes down a little. He'll be checking for any damage to his eyes. The Neurosurgeon team is here right now. They're reviewing his chart at the nurse's station. They'll be in to see him soon, too. Tomorrow morning, Dr. Stanley will be in with his team to assess Mr. Dixon. He's a wonderfully gifted plastic surgeon who specializes in miracles."

  She reached over and made a few more notations on a clipboard beside a monitor, then turned back to Renata and held out her hand. "My name is Cheryl. I'll be your nurse until the shift is over, then you'll have Lisa for this evening. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

  She was brisk and business-like, but she was also very informative, keeping them clued in to everything she did to John over the next several hours.

  Renata's sisters stayed for a while before she told them to go home and fill Granny G in on things and to help out with the boys. Gia was on her way and would be there any time.

  "That's what I need most, I think," Renata sighed, relieved that they would take on the responsibility of the kids for at least the next few days. "I need to know that my little guys are taken care of so that I don't have to worry about them, too."

  "Victor will help, Ren. Maybe he can pick them up from school in his cruiser. Do you think they'd like that?" Juliette was anxious to get home to the man she loved, Renata could tell, and she couldn't blame her. The absurd notion crossed her mind of how absolutely lovely it would be to go home to find John there, waiting for her, to comfort her, to assure her that everything would be okay.

  "That would be wonderful, Juliette. You know they'd love it, even if he didn't show up in the police car. Thank you." She turned to Phoebe, a pale, solemn version of her usual capricious sister. "Give me a hug, Phoebe. Rub off some of your perfume on me. I forgot to put any on."

  Phoebe's eyes were bright with tears as she put her arms around Renata, her untamed curls tickling Renata's cheeks. "Why are you comforting me?" she whispered.

  "Because you look like you're just about ready to come undone, little sister." She smiled, leaned back to look at her, but kept her arms around her as she said, "Thank you for coming to get me. I don't know what I would have done if I'd been alone when I got the news." She stretched out an arm to Juliette, who joined the hug. "I'm so glad you were there. I'm so glad you came for me."

  Just then, Gia came scurrying in, looking frightened and alone and terribly young. All three of them chuckled at the sight of her and opened their arms to her, too. After a few more comforting moments, Juliette and Phoebe headed for home an hour away.

  Gia and Grandpa stayed by John's bedside, an extra pair of eyes, hands, and ears for Renata. Gia called the secretary at Renata's church requesting prayer, and Pastor Benton surprised her by making the long drive out to visit and pray at the bedside with them. At one point, John squeezed his hand to acknowledge his presence and the man smiled like he'd been given a shot of hope.

  "You've got an army of prayer warriors holding you up, John. You remember that, all right?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The pastor from the hospital, Luke Simons, did come to them as he'd promised. He spoke in such gentle, soothing tones, praying quietly over John, his hand resting on John's head in benediction. Grandpa and Gia had both stepped out to update Granny G and the other sisters, but returned in time to speak to Pastor Simons, too.

  "Well, maybe you could remember to add me and my wife to your prayers, too. Renata's John has been a son to us, and I know my wife is heart-broken. She's a praying woman, but she's usually on her knees praying for others, and I don't know how many prayers she gets in return."

  "I'd be honored." Pastor Simons said, his kindness toward them like a warm blanket. "Why don't we do that right now. Let's gather around John again so he can join us as we pray over this whole family, shall we? Would you like to join us?" He waved a hand to include Gia.

  John had been completely unresponsive the whole time they were there, but they lined up on both sides of his bed, Renata resting a hand on his chest, and they bowed their heads in prayer. Pastor Simons boldly laid out his requests to God, asking Him to not only preserve John's life, but to restore him back to normal, to heal his wounds in miraculous ways, and to leave the doctors so amazed that they'd be unable to deny the existence and power of a loving Creator.

  "And Lord, your prayer warriors need prayers, too. So we cover Mrs. Gustafson. Keep her knees sturdy, her faith strong, and her heart whole, as she carries the burdens of her family to you."

  He wrapped his prayer up with words of encouragement and support for Renata. "In Jesus' mighty and powerful name, we ask these things. We all agree by saying, 'Amen!'"

  And they did.

  The pastor left shortly, then Scott McCain made another appearance.

  It had been
hours since she'd arrived and Renata had forgotten all about him.

  He stood tentatively in the doorway, as though waiting to be invited in. Renata had seen him coming down the hall; in the CCU, the walls were glass panels so patients could be observed at all times. Privacy was limited to a pulled curtain and bed linens. She turned away as he approached and shot a beseeching look at her grandfather.

  Grandpa stood quickly and crossed the room to the man, but he shook his hand and ushered him in, obviously misunderstanding Renata's silent plea. "He's resting peacefully right now, Scott. His nurse says he's on some pretty strong medication so we may not get much of a response out of him."

  The two men stood beside the bed near John's head. Renata sat in her chair, head down.

  "Hello, Mrs. Dixon." Scott's voice sounded gruff, broken.

  "Mr. McCain." She glanced up at him briefly, just quickly enough to be polite, then turned back to look at John's face.

  "If there's anything I can do…." McCain's voice trailed off.

  "No. But thank you. And thank you for staying with my husband today. I appreciate that. I know he does, too." Why was he here? What had prompted the pompous idiot to come back? Why did she have to be kind to him? He hadn't spared John a day of peace since starting the job with him, and now he wanted to share in her dark hour?

  "Scott, could I ask you a huge favor?" Grandpa spoke up.

  "Of course! Please. If there's anything I can do. I meant what I said." McCain was clearly anxious to help.

  "I haven't had my afternoon coffee today, thanks to John here, and I know the girls haven't either. Would you and Gia go down to the cafeteria and pick us up a couple?" Grandpa took out his wallet and started to pull out some cash.

  "Coffee's on me, sir," McCain stated, then turned to the curious Gia and waited while she slipped her feet into a pair of knock-off Ugg boots.

  When they'd left, Grandpa spoke softly, but firmly. "Renata, that man is braver than I would be in his shoes. He's here, isn't he?"

  "Of course he's here, Grandpa. Because he's riddled with guilt! My husband is here because of that man." She didn't raise her voice either, but her finger jabbing the air in McCain's direction was just as effective as a yell. "Is there anything he can do for us? Yes. Leave, and never come back. Hasn't he done enough?"

  "He didn't push John off the ladder." Grandpa's voice remained calm.

  "Maybe not, but he sure pushed him in every other way. McCain has been nothing but a thorn in John's side from the very first day they started this project. John's safety was jeopardized on a regular basis on that job site because McCain doesn't know jack about electrical stuff. McCain, himself, said John was up rewiring something that had been done badly. You can bet he was fixing McCain's mistakes, not his own. If John hadn't fallen off a ladder, it would have been something else. Or someone else."

  "Renata, sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes there's no one to blame, no matter how badly you may want to point fingers. Sometimes, you have to look a man in the eye and respect him—and yourself—enough to give him grace, because he doesn't deserve it." He came around the bed and sat on the edge of it, a few feet from her chair. "You harbor resentment too easily, little Ren."

  He sighed, straightened his spine, and cleared his throat before continuing, his voice firm. "Scott McCain will be returning shortly, and he will probably be carrying your coffee. You will do the right thing, do you hear me? You will thank him, not just for the coffee, but for thinking on his feet when John fell. Your husband is alive because of that man, no matter what you believe his motivation was. He called emergency services. He stayed with him, talking to him, making phone calls for him. He was the first person to give me any information about John. He stayed at his bedside until I arrived, then he insisted on staying close until you arrived so he could tell us exactly what happened in case the story got muddled along the way. He stayed to make sure you were going to be able to keep it together." He rested his palms on the bed on either side of him and crossed his ankles. "You come from good stock, Renata Gustafson Dixon. Don't embarrass yourself."

  Renata sat in stunned silence. She hadn't thought it through that way until now, McCain's part in the whole ordeal, what his decision to stay said about the man. But even more shocking was the number of words and sentences her grandfather had just strung together to put her in her place. Oh, he loved to talk. He loved to tell stories. But he didn't do long lectures, especially when it came to discipline. Usually he just dealt swiftly and justly and it was over.

  And that's exactly what he was doing. Disciplining her. He was right. McCain, as blustering a buffoon as he was, had stayed the course today. He had to have sensed her animosity, yet he came back anyway. She owed him much more than a cold shoulder.

  "What's wrong with me, Grandpa? Why am I so awful to people? It's like my automatic response these days." She voiced the question quietly, but she knew he wouldn't judge her for admitting it.

  "These days? Honey, you've always been quick to judge. But," he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to deny it. "But it's because you've always been a black and white kind of girl. Just like your Simon. There's nothing between the extremes with you, and in most cases, that's fine. But it doesn't leave you with much room for human error, does it?"

  Renata shook her head and finished his thought for him. "And it doesn't leave anyone else with much room for error, either."

  "Good girl." He grinned at her a little shyly. "I'm not claiming to be God, but I have a feeling you're almost as surprised as I am about how much I've just said. I had planned to just tell you to grow up." He chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair. "I like your haircut, Little Ren. It reminds me of you when you were a little thing. Your hair stuck up all over your head. Just like Simon's does now."

  "Thanks, Grandpa." She reached up and grabbed the hand that rested on her head. She held it between her own, her thumbs tracing the prominent veins and ridged knuckles. "I love you. I'm glad you're here."

  When McCain and Gia returned bearing coffee, cake pops, and several bagels with packets of cream cheese, Renata graciously thanked him for the refreshments.

  Then she pulled him aside and quietly and sincerely thanked him for saving John's life.

  Scott McCain rubbed his already reddened eyes, told her again how terrible he felt, how if there was anything at all he could do, just to call him. He gave her his home number, his cell number, and his email address, then hurried from the room, looking like he was ready to cry again, but obviously greatly relieved.

  Awash in the glow of grace, Renata thought. That's how he looked to her.

  And that's how she felt.

  That evening, she called and spoke to each one of the boys for several minutes, assuring them that their daddy was okay, that he was sleeping, and to make sure and pray for him with Granny G.

  "I'm glad you came home, Mom." Reuben didn't say it with any condemnation, but Renata felt the weight of guilt settle back on her shoulders.

  "Oh, honey. I came straight away. Of course I came home."

  "I know. I didn't mean that I was afraid you wouldn't. I just meant that I'm glad you're home. I like Aunt Gia, but I missed you."

  "I missed you, too, son. I'm glad I'm home, too."

  Simon wasn't so sweet. "See what happens when you take a vacation from us?"

  Renata could think of nothing to say back to him.

  "Don't go away anymore, Mommy." Suddenly his tough little shell cracked, and his voice squeaked as he began to sniffle. "I didn't like not knowing where you were."

  "Simon, my precious boy. I love you. I'm home. I'm going to stay here at the hospital with Daddy, but I'm home."

  "Can we come see you guys?"

  "Not right away. Not until we know better how he's doing. We're in a part of the hospital where kids aren't allowed to visit, probably because kids carry gross germs with them." She wanted him to feel better.

  "Not me. I wash my hands."


  "I know. You're about as germ-free as they come. But the rules are the rules. As soon as they move Daddy, I'll be sure and ask if you and your brothers can come visit, okay? In the meantime, I'll call every morning and every night."

  "What about after school?" Her heart strings tightened at the vulnerability in his usually churlish tone.

  "You call me after school, okay? You call me on Daddy's phone. Mine broke."

  "Is that why you didn't call us last night? Because your phone broke?"

  Renata sighed. "Yes," she said, wishing that everything was different, that the last few days hadn't happened.

  "Okay. I'll talk to you in the morning. Granny G said we get to sleep on your old bed tonight."

  "All four of you?"

  "Yeah. I don't know how that's going to work. I'll probably end up on the floor."

  Levi was his normal sweet self, telling her how much he loved her and to be sure and tell Daddy he loved him, too.

  Judah got distracted by something his brothers were doing, and forgetting that he was talking to her, he set the handset down. She finally hung up, hoping Granny G would find it before morning. She'd try calling her back in an hour or so, after the kids were in bed.

  It was eight o'clock and the room was still except for the ticking and beeping of the machines surrounding the patient, the lights dimmed. Renata sat in a chair beside John's sleeping form, his hand in hers, her head resting on the mattress near his thigh. To her surprise, Phoebe had returned to stay with her through the night. She and Gia and Grandpa took off to find the cafeteria and something to eat before Grandpa and Gia headed home. Renata didn't want anything; she was curiously not hungry at all, even though she'd eaten only a half a bagel all day, and she was glad for the sudden reprieve from visitors.

  "Renata?" A hushed male voice called her name, and she lifted her head to see the shadowy large form in the doorway. Tim Larsen. He'd finally come. She stood up and he quickly crossed the room to her side, enveloping her in a solid embrace.