Though None Go with Me

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  They lay there, gasping, Bruce asking over and over what had happened and how he had gotten into the water. By the time neighbors got to them with blankets and towels and walked them back toward the house, everything was coming back to him.

  “God must have something special in mind for you, young man,” an elderly man intoned.

  “Why?” Bruce said. “What do you mean? What does he mean, Mama?”

  “You should have drowned, little one,” the man said. “God saves people for a reason. He put your mama there because it wasn’t your time.”

  “That’s right,” Elisabeth told him. “God saved you.”

  “You saved me, Mama!”

  She eyed the river’s rapid current with respect. “He let me help, that’s all,” she said. “I could not have saved you by myself.”

  The experience galvanized the family. Even Benjy settled down when the story was rehashed. Betty said over and over, “I could never stay above the water. I’m not playin’ on that rickety bridge ever again.”

  “None of you are,” Elisabeth said.

  “I am,” Benjy said.

  “No, you’re not,” she said.

  “Am too.”

  It was days before Elisabeth could sleep without the incident haunting her. Will prayed with her, and she pleaded with God for relief from the trauma. She also believed what her neighbor had said. Bruce was something special. God had huge things in store for him.

  Will, like the rest of the men in town, still reeled from the lessons of poverty. But he seemed energized by being back to work full-time. He even added to his overloaded schedule a passel of additional civic responsibilities. “Why?” Elisabeth asked. “You already do more than enough.”

  “It’s about being a good citizen,” he said. “I can’t stand people who enjoy the benefits of society without sharing in the responsibilities.”

  Will became director of the Three Rivers Tax Payers League, was elected to the school board, presided over the Rotary Club, and even spent a year as director of the Family Service Organization. Elisabeth hoped he wouldn’t regret filling his days so full that he seldom got a chance to relax.

  She watched him for signs of overdoing it, but his pace had been top-speed for so long, she hardly knew what to look for. One morning in the fall of 1933 he came to breakfast, read a portion of Scripture aloud as usual, encouraged the children, complimented Elisabeth on the meal, and headed for the door.

  As was their custom, Elisabeth angled her way from her place at the table, and they embraced and gave each other a good-by kiss. Sometimes the children hooted. When they were younger they had often tried to squeeze between their parents. But by now Benjy was an angry, twelve-year-old fifth grader. Betty, nine, had been held back too and was struggling through third grade at a special school. Bruce, eight, was breezing through third grade.

  As the kids watched them embrace at the door, Elisabeth slipped a hand around Will’s waist and teased him. “Forget something today, Mr. Executive?”

  He felt his waistband and blushed. “No belt,” he said, clearly troubled. Will was the most buttoned-down person Elisabeth had ever known. He hurried upstairs and came down with his belt. As he rushed out the door, he said, “Good-by, Elisabeth.”

  She sang after him, “What did you call me?”

  “I said good-by!” he said, still clearly embarrassed and, it seemed, disgusted with himself.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Elisabeth felt conspicuous: she and Will had the smallest family in their age group at Christ Church, other than Art and Frances Childs, who were preparing to adopt. The Childses were pitied, and of course rumors abounded about whose “fault” it was. But Elisabeth would rather have traded places with Frances than hear comments about her own situation. One woman, not realizing Elisabeth was behind her, went so far as to say, “When one’s home in the first ward becomes more important than one’s obligation to replenish the earth, well …”

  Elisabeth wasn’t about to have more children just to fulfill some unwritten rule. She and Will had always assumed they would have a large family, and she had not yet ruled out more children. But she was glad God had not given them more just yet. On the other hand, she thanked him every day that she had not stopped at two.

  Bruce carried to church the same wonder Elisabeth had had at his age. At eight he became the junior pastor in his department, which included children up to twelve. In the adult services he sang lustily and told his mother that when he grew up he wanted to be a pastor, a missionary, or a choir director. She assured him she would be proud of him regardless.

  Will was wonderful with the kids, as he had been with his nieces and nephews years before. Although he had no more success with Benjy than Elisabeth had, his attention was the only thing that seemed to cheer Betty. Bruce was easy, of course. He was curious about adult things. One night Elisabeth heard him quizzing Will about Fairbanks-Morse. Will came to bed two hours later marveling that “Bruce seems to understand more about the organization than some of our managers.”

  Elisabeth became convinced that Will was near exhaustion in December of 1933. Twice he had to return to the office after pulling into the driveway at the end of the day, having forgotten his briefcase. One morning he prepared to leave the house without his overcoat. It was seven degrees below zero.

  At first Elisabeth teased him about it, calling him an absentminded professor. When she tried to speak seriously to him about it, he dismissed it, then seemed touchy. She suggested he think about trimming his schedule. He did not respond, but she was troubled by his look. She told herself it only made sense that a high-achieving man would be sensitive about any deterioration of his skills. And organization was certainly one of his.

  Drawing attention to his memory lapses seemed only to make them worse. Elisabeth became more alarmed as the holidays approached. One morning Will arrived at the breakfast table barefoot, though otherwise dressed for work. The kids giggled and pointed, but he was oblivious.

  After getting everything on the table, Elisabeth went upstairs and brought down his socks and shoes, setting them next to him without a word. After breakfast he stumbled over them and complained about things being in the way. Then he sat quickly and put on his socks and shoes. He left the house without kissing Elisabeth or saying a word. He had forgotten their good-by, the one she had enjoyed every weekday for more than a decade.

  Midmorning he called her. “Elisabeth,” he said—she chose not to correct him, “I feel as if I forgot something this morning. Did you say something as I was on my way out? Was I to pick up something for you?”

  She bit her lip. “I just told you that I loved you with all my heart and couldn’t wait to see you at the end of the day.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Nothing I need to do then. No errand.”

  “No.”

  “Okay. I love you too, sweetheart.”

  That last sounded so normal that it thrilled her, but she feared she was fooling herself to hope this new phase would pass. The next morning Will arrived at breakfast wearing no tie and with his hair still wet. She pressed a finger to her lips when the kids looked at him and then at her.

  “I’d like to read the Scripture this morning,” she said, hurrying so he would have time to finish dressing. As soon as he finished eating she rose and went to him. “All right,” she said, “you’ve got just enough time to dry and comb your hair and you’ll be set to go.” He grabbed his head, his face flushed, and he hurried upstairs.

  Late that afternoon he phoned from the office. “Say hello to the new executive vice president,” he said.

  “Darling!” she said. “Really?”

  “But it’s a secret until tomorrow. Jake is going to announce it at the employee Christmas party.”

  “I’d love to be there.”

  “That would give it away, dear. And other wives are not invited. Better not.”

  “I’ll want every detail.”

  That evening a phone call reminded Will of an important Tax P
ayers League meeting, already almost over. In the morning he wore mismatched shoes and Elisabeth had to remind him to shave. “And why don’t you find another right shoe,” she said. “I need to have that one repaired.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s wearing unevenly. Wear the black one.”

  If he noticed she had steered him toward matching shoes, he didn’t mention it. “Wish me luck,” he said. “Big day.”

  “Luck?” she said. “It’s all over but the announcement, isn’t it?” He looked at her blankly. “Your promotion,” she added.

  “Right! Beloit.”

  “Beloit?” she said.

  “That’s where it is.”

  She stepped in front of him and put her hands on his shoulders as he picked up his briefcase. “I’m still sleepy this morning, hon,” she said. “What is in Beloit?”

  “Wisconsin,” he said.

  “I know. Beloit, Wisconsin. What about it?” He looked angry and tried to pull away. “Will,” she said calmly. “You don’t need to rush. You’re ahead of schedule. Remind me what’s in Beloit, Wisconsin.”

  “You know,” he said abruptly. “Our other plant.”

  “Of course. What does it have to do with your promotion?”

  “I’m not being transferred, am I, Elisabeth? I don’t want to move to Beloit.”

  The room spun and Elisabeth held tight to Will. If he wasn’t losing his mind, she was losing hers. “Sit down a minute, Will. Would you like me to call Jake and ask him what’s going on?”

  “Jake?” he said, as if he had never heard the name before.

  “Your boss. Jack Jacobson.”

  “Jake!” he said. “He called?”

  Elisabeth realized the kids were taking this all in. “Benjy! Make sure Betty is ready for the bus. Now!”

  “I’m not doin’ it,” he said. “That’s your job. Whatsa matter with Dad anyway?”

  She glared at him so fiercely that he grabbed Betty’s hand and ran upstairs. Bruce looked at her like a scared animal. “I’m getting ready, Mom,” he said, and he took off too.

  “Will,” she said, trying to keep control, “you’re frightening me. Now concentrate. You told me you had been promoted to executive vice president and that it would be announced today.”

  “At the Christmas party.”

  “Yes!” she said.

  “Are you coming?”

  “I asked you that, hon, and you said no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because no other wives are invited and it was supposed to be a secret.”

  He squinted at her and rubbed his forehead. “Now you’re scaring me,” he said. “Everybody knows.”

  “They do?”

  “They’re not supposed to bring their lunches, because Jake’s treating everybody in the cafeteria.”

  “They know about the Christmas party, you mean.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

  “And then Jake’s going to announce your promotion.”

  “First he has to tell them about Donald going to Beloit.”

  Elisabeth feared she would hyperventilate if she didn’t sit too. She pulled a chair alongside Will’s. “So Don is going to Beloit. Is he being transferred?”

  Will suddenly looked like his old self. He sighed, appearing frustrated that Elisabeth just wasn’t getting it. “Don goes to Beloit, Franklin and Earl become vice presidents, I become executive VP, okay?”

  She blinked. It made perfect sense.

  “You got it now?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “Do you?”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head as if he could hardly believe how difficult it was for her to grasp office politics. “Don’t worry your little head about it, Elspeth.”

  So he was back to Elspeth. That so warmed her that she was almost ready to pass the whole episode off to his excitement over the announcement. Until he said, “Are the kids home yet?”

  “You know what I think?” she said. “I think you need some rest. Would you like to lie down a while?”

  He seemed to look through her. “How about let’s get you up to bed, hm? I need to get the kids off to school and I need to make a phone call. So, come on. A nap sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  Will did not respond, but he let her lead him by the hand up to their bedroom. She sat him on the bed, knelt, and removed his shoes. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. She reached to loosen his tie but he pushed her hands away and did it himself. He covered his eyes with his elbow and his breathing immediately sounded deep and rhythmic. Tears rolled down Elisabeth’s face as she draped a blanket over him. “Lord, let him sleep,” she prayed silently.

  As she went to round up the kids Elisabeth heard Betty’s school bus. “Betty!” she called. “Are you ready?”

  “No! Benjy locked me out of the bathroom!”

  “Benjamin!” she hollered. “I told you to get her ready!”

  “She takes too long!” he called out.

  Elisabeth decided Betty looked ready enough and hustled her down the stairs and out the door, just as the bus was about to pull away. Elisabeth ran back upstairs and demanded that Benjy open the bathroom door. “Only if you promise not to kill me,” he hollered.

  “I promise I will if you don’t open up,” she said.

  He burst out and rushed past her. “That’ll be the day,” he said.

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “Digging in the back last time I saw him.”

  “If you’re ready, get going to school. Bruce will be along.”

  She found Bruce in the backyard, having dug through the snow to the grass and soil. “Bruce!” she shouted.

  “Mom,” he said, “c’mere a minute.”

  “You don’t have a minute. You’ve got to go.”

  “Mom, I’ve never been late in my life.” It was true. “C’mere just for a minute.” She hurried to him.

  “Look at this,” he said, lifting a shovel full of steaming earth.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Those tulips that come up here every spring? This is why. Those roots look frozen and dead, but they’re not.”

  “From death comes life,” she said.

  “Uh-huh. I knew it was the same flowers, or from the same seeds. I just had to see what they were doing down there when they should have been freezing to death. After they bloom, they look dead, they shrivel up, the sun bakes ’em, they get snowed under, and they freeze. But in the spring they come back.”

  “May it ever be so,” Elisabeth prayed silently as she wrapped Bruce in a tight embrace. “Now get going, young man. I’ll put this back the way it was.”

  “Thanks, Mom!” he said, running off.

  Elisabeth knew she should have a coat on, but shoveling the dirt back would take only a minute. She heard Bruce go in to get his stuff, then let the door slam when he ran out. “Bye, Dad!” he said. “Better get some shoes on!”

  Elisabeth dropped the shovel and ran to the other side of the house. Bruce was running one direction to catch up with Benjy. Will was driving the other way in the dead of winter in his shirtsleeves and stocking feet, on his way, or so he thought, to being named the new executive vice president of the Fairbanks-Morse Company.

  Elisabeth ran to the phone.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Jacobson is not taking calls this morning,” she was told.

  “This is an emergency,” Elisabeth said. “Interrupt whatever he’s doing, please.”

  Jacobson was on the line a few seconds later. “Elisabeth, my dear …”

  “Jake, I’m sorry, but it’s Will.” She quickly spilled the story.

  “Don’t you worry, Elisabeth, we’ll watch for him. And if he doesn’t arrive here, we’ll have the police find him.”

  “This must come as a great shock to you, Jake.”

  “I’m afraid not, dear. I had been meaning to call you, but we didn’t want to upset you. I was meeting with his colleagues when you called. We were dis
cussing how to break the news to him about postponing today’s announcement.”

  “He was right about that then?”

  “Oh, yes. Not that long ago I would not have been able to think of a better candidate. Elisabeth, it’s clear he needs immediate attention. As soon as we locate him, we’ll get him to the new hospital. Can you get there?”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  “I’ll send a car for you.”

  “Oh, Jake, that’s not nec—”

  “Nonsense. Be ready, dear.”

  Less than thirty minutes later a large, black F-M sedan pulled into the driveway. Jacobson himself alighted from the backseat to usher Elisabeth in. “Will pulled into the lot pretty as you please,” he explained. “One of the security boys asked him to slide over and let him drive. Told him he had an important meeting with me off-site. He’s in with the doctor already.”

  “What’s wrong with him, Jake?”

  “We’ll know soon enough.”

  As they waited in the hospital, Jake said, “I was impressed that Will was willing to move, at least temporarily. You too.”

  “Move?”

  “To Beloit.”

  “Beloit? Jake—”

  A nurse interrupted. “Mrs. Bishop? Doctor Fitzgerald would like you to join them, please.”

  As Elisabeth entered, the doctor watched impassively as Will rushed to her and whispered. “What’s the older boy’s name?”

  “What?”

  “The older boy.”

  “What older boy, Will?”

  “Our son! Our son! Betsy and Bruce and, come on, what’s his name?”

  She looked to the doctor who closed his eyes and nodded. “Benjamin,” she said.

  Will looked shocked. “Benjamin?”

  “Benjy.”

  “Yes!” he shouted, whirling to face the doctor. “Benjy, then Bruce, no, then the girl, Bess, and then Bruce. See? I knew.”

  “Sit back down, Mr. Bishop, please.” The doctor introduced himself to Elisabeth and pointed to a chair. She sat. The doctor continued. “Now, Mr. Bishop, if you will, please tell your daughter and I—”