by Arlene James
Asia was dead, fallen somehow from his own second-story bedroom window and killed by her arrogance and indifference. She hadn’t even known it was him until it was too late. Clearly she did not deserve the family or the life that she’d had. She could never be a real nurse again, never trust herself to make decisions about someone else’s medical care. She didn’t even have any business reviewing cases on paper. She saw that now.
She’d run all the way to Dallas, sold, given away or abandoned everything she owned, including her house and her car, taken a job about which she knew nothing and cared even less, eschewed a telephone and even the most routine contact with those she loved in an attempt to escape the punishment that she deserved. She hadn’t thought it possible to loathe herself more than she already had, but she was wrong about that as she was wrong about so much else.
She couldn’t even ask God to help her, to spare her the pain of having killed Asia. Asia wasn’t just her nephew; he was her confidant, her buddy, her friend. Mitch had said that he was coming to her because he knew she would help, but she had killed him instead, blindly, arrogantly, in the time it took to snap her fingers.
She couldn’t help wondering if there had been others. Certainly others had died in her care. Had she somehow been at fault there, too? She scoured her memory for instances when she might have been, but in the end conclusions were elusive.
What did it matter anyway? She had quite enough guilt to last her a lifetime. A long and lonely lifetime, which was nothing less than she deserved.
Mitch wasn’t really surprised when she didn’t come to the square for lunch the next day, especially since all he’d gotten whenever he’d tried to call on the phone was his own voice telling him to leave a message, none of which she’d responded to. He did expect that she’d answer her door that evening, so he wasn’t sure what to think when that didn’t happen. The lights were on inside her apartment, but it was impossible to tell if she was home or not. He suspected that she was, but if so the portents were ominous.
He tried talking to her through the door. “Piper, it’s me. I’m worried about you. Could you open up?”
She made no reply, so he tried again.
“Please, honey. We can work through this if you’ll just give us a chance. Please.”
He wasn’t in the least surprised when that got him no response, and he was hoping against hope, really, that she wasn’t there. Maybe the Ninevers would know if she’d gone out, or maybe she was even with them. Praying that he’d find her laughing at one of their off-the-wall remarks, he turned, skirted the pool and climbed the stairs.
Scott answered his knock. Without a word of greeting for Mitch, he called for his wife. A heartbeat later Melissa slid into view wearing a long, tie-dyed skirt with gores of solid colors, cowboy boots and a man’s wine-red cardigan over a white T-shirt. Scott slipped an arm around her waist as if expecting that she would need his support.
“Do you know where Piper is?” Mitch asked her urgently.
She shook her head, eyes wide and sad. “All I know is that something’s wrong, and she won’t talk to me about it.”
Mitch sighed. Not good news, not good at all. He warred briefly with the ethical implications of telling what he knew, and decided that divulging only general information was the best course.
“Not long ago someone close to Piper died in tragic circumstances, and she doesn’t seem to be coping with the loss very well. I pressed her on it when I shouldn’t have, and now she’s withdrawn. I’m worried about her, frankly.” He bracketed his temples with the thumb and little finger of one hand, muttering to himself, “I shouldn’t have left her alone. I shouldn’t have confronted her with the letter.”
“What letter?” Melissa wanted to know, but Mitch just shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I find a way to make her understand that what she’s going through is a natural part of the grieving process.”
“Good luck,” Melissa said, reaching into a pocket of her voluminous skirt. She pulled out his cell phone and handed it him. “Piper brought this up this afternoon and said you’d be by for it eventually. She said to tell you that you should forget about her.”
Mitch closed his eyes, the tiny phone heavy in his palm. “Not much chance of that,” he whispered.
Scott cleared his throat. “What’re you going to do?”
Mitch took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Pray until I find the answers.”
“Can we do anything to help?” Melissa asked.
“Talk to her, even if she won’t talk to you. Tell her that I’m not going away, that I’m not giving up on her, that God has a plan in all this.”
“That’s it?”
“Your prayers would be appreciated, too.”
Scott looked at Melissa, and as one they stepped back, leaving a clear pathway into their home for Mitch. “Maybe you’d better come in and show us how it’s done,” Scott said.
Mitch didn’t know what else to do. He’d tried everything he could think of, even sending a policeman to her door. Once she’d told the officer that she was all right, however, the authorities were powerless to do anything more. The Ninevers had proven a godsend, their burgeoning faith a real blessing in this time of fear, but Piper had forbidden Melissa to talk about him to her. That stung, but Mitch wasn’t about to back off now.
Although he’d already failed once at reaching her through her office, he really felt that he had no other choice but to try again, and this time he would not be fobbed off by a simple refusal. He was prepared to make a scene if he had to, even to threaten lawsuits, though that kind of heavy-handedness could easily rebound, since the company was entirely within its rights to deny him access to its employees.
After making that intimidating elevator ride for a second time, he stood for a moment sizing up the staff. The young man had sent him packing before, so Mitch saw no point in trying his luck there again. The older woman looked hard as nails. That just left the younger female. Mitch strode up to the imposing reception desk and slapped a card on the table in front of the young woman, ignoring the fact that she was on the telephone.
“I’m here to see Piper Wynne.”
The woman flitted a glance over him, held up one manicured finger and got off the phone as quickly as was decent before telling him crisply, “That won’t be possible.”
“Look, I don’t care how you make it happen, but I’m not leaving here until I see Ms. Wynne.”
Frowning, the woman pecked a lavishly long fingernail against the surface of the wood desktop. “I’m afraid you have no choice.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice,” Mitch retorted. “I can have a judge on the phone inside of ten minutes, and then we’ll see whether or not you can show me to Ms. Wynne’s desk.”
“Sir,” the receptionist said, her voice taking on an edge of shrillness, “I’ll be glad to point out what used to be her desk, but that’s the best I can do, judge or no judge.”
“Used to be?” Mitch echoed hollowly.
The young woman lowered her voice. “Ms. Wynne no longer works here.”
“No longer—?” He broke off, rubbing a hand over his chin in consternation. “Where did she go? Look, this is terribly important. You might even say it’s a matter of life and death. I have to see her.”
The woman’s manner thawed considerably, but her words were no more helpful than before. “I have no idea where she went.”
He closed his eyes, one hand fisting atop the sleekly curved wood of the desk rail. “Can you find out? It’s very important.”
The woman hunched her shoulders and leaned forward as far as the wide counter would allow, pitching her voice low. “She wouldn’t say, not even to her friends.”
Mitch bowed his head. The young receptionist obviously included herself in that category.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly.
“Hannah.”
“If she gets in touch with you, Hannah, if you should hear anything at all, even from anoth
er employer checking references, please call me at either of those numbers on the card.”
She nodded, understanding in her eyes. “All I know is that Piper was out sick for several days. Then she came in, said she couldn’t work here anymore and left again without following protocol. Didn’t even do her exit interview or collect her last paycheck. I tried to ask her what was up, but she just looked at me with tears in her eyes, shook her head and walked out again.”
Mitch sighed. “I’m afraid she’s not herself. I know she’s had a terrible shock. If you see her or hear from her again, please let me know.”
Hannah cast a look right and left before whispering, “I will.”
Mitch thanked her again and left. He was no closer to finding a solution to this problem. Indeed, the problem seemed to have grown beyond all human control. All he could think to do was to get down on his knees again.
He was halfway back to his office before he realized he had resources. He could marshal a whole army of prayer warriors with just a few phone calls.
He dialed his parents, telling them enough—it wasn’t his story to tell, really—so that they could pray intelligently. Next he activated the Grief Support Group’s prayer chain, again giving them just enough information so that they could phrase their petitions properly.
Finally he called the Wynnes in Houston. After he spoke to them, he knew what he had to do. It weighed on him like a two-ton millstone, but for Piper he would do whatever was necessary. Tutored by love and a God of wisdom and purpose, he could do no less.
Chapter Thirteen
Exhausted, Piper lay facedown across her bed, fully clothed. The dialysis clinic where she had taken employment kept her busy, but that wasn’t the problem. The place was located in McKinney, some forty miles to the north up the busy, construction-clogged Interstate 75 corridor, also known as Central Expressway. Getting back and forth without a car was proving a real challenge. She had to change buses three times, then catch a ride with another nurse who lived in Plano.
The single mom of three was all too glad for the little bit of extra income that Piper provided, but she habitually worked a shift and a half, splitting a second shift with another nurse who came in evenings. That meant that Piper spent several hours a day just waiting for a ride back to the bus stop. She’d tried to get on the same plan as her new friend, but the company gave preference to nurses with families to support, which seemed sensible, so Piper had started making use of the exercise room that the company provided. That, coupled with a lack of appetite lately, had caused her to drop weight, resulting in overall weakness.
Soon, she told herself, she would be toned and fit and strong again. But not, said a little voice inside her head, if you don’t eat properly.
Piper sighed and rolled over, telling herself that she would get up and go to the kitchen in a moment. It was tempting to just close her eyes and pretend that tomorrow would never come. Finally, however, she bullied herself up off the bed and into the kitchen to poke her nose into the refrigerator.
She hadn’t been to the grocery in over a week, and the cupboard was, quite literally, bare. She had two eggs and a slice of cheese. It would have to be an omelet, and an anemic one at that—except that as she stood staring down at the unbroken eggs, she found she wasn’t quite up to the task, after all. She felt the hot, hateful prickling of tears behind her eyes, and panic set in.
Oh, God, please, not again.
As if in answer to her thoughtless prayer, a knock sounded at her door. Grateful for any distraction, she went at once to answer it. Melissa’s friendly face greeted her with a tentative smile.
“Hey, stranger!” She took in Piper’s violet flowered scrubs and said, “Have you changed jobs?”
“Uh, yeah, actually, I have,” Piper admitted uneasily, adding, “The insurance company wasn’t for me. I need more hands-on, you know?”
Melissa shrugged. “If you say so. It’s certainly been keeping you busy, though. I’ve been missing you.”
“I’m sorry.” Piper apologized at once. “I just had to make some changes.”
“Okay,” Melissa said, eyeing her judiciously. “Have you lost weight? I thought you’d given up running.”
“My new company offers an exercise room, so I’ve been working out there,” Piper admitted with a forced smile.
“Ah. Well, listen, I’ve got an extra large pepperoni pizza upstairs that I could use your help with if you haven’t had dinner yet. What d’you say? Scott’s even promised not to rattle the glass in the windows with his music.”
Piper laughed, suddenly feeling a tad better. She sensed something different about Melissa, though. Her friend seemed to have a mature new gleam in her eye—or was that concern that she saw? Either way, pepperoni pizza sounded more appetizing than eggs at the moment, especially if the eggs came with a side order of fresh tears.
“Do I have time to change?”
“Sure, if you want,” Melissa said. “I’ll wait.”
Piper started to tell her to go on ahead, but she was suddenly ravenous. “Why not. If you don’t mind the scrubs, I don’t.”
“Are you kidding? Every minute we’re down here is another minute Scott’s alone with our pie.”
Laughing again, Piper promised to hurry. She felt a moment’s misgiving as she grabbed her keys and walked out into the courtyard at Melissa’s side. What if she suddenly burst into tears in front of her hosts? How would she ever explain it? On the other hand, she just couldn’t face another lonely evening dwelling on her mistakes and losses. No, what she needed more than anything else right now was a little distraction, a little entertainment, a little fun. If fun no longer came as easily as it once had, well, what did, other than sorrow?
They climbed the stairs shoulder to shoulder, and when they reached Melissa’s door, Melissa reached out and gave it a sharp rap before reaching for the knob. That seemed a bit odd to Piper, but the next instant Melissa swung the door open and stepped back, signaling for Piper to go in first. Piper decided that rap had been a polite way of informing Scott that they had company. Perhaps he hadn’t expected Piper to actually join them. She could hardly blame him for that.
The aroma of freshly baked pizza greeted her first, and then there was Scott standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor, his hands in the back pockets of his baggy jeans.
“Hey, Piper!” he exclaimed, abruptly coming forward to hug her.
“Scott!” She didn’t know whether to laugh or be alarmed by such an exuberant welcome, and then she realized that he was not the only other person in the room.
Every defense mechanism she possessed snapped to alert, but Melissa had already closed the door, and Scott’s arms were still about her. Realizing with horror that she was well and truly trapped, she jerked back, a hand going to her mouth.
“Oh!”
“Hello, sis.”
For one thunderstruck moment Piper could do nothing but stare at the brassy-haired man standing beside the coffee table. He looked…much the same. That seemed wrong somehow, but welcome, too. Until she looked into his warm, reddish-brown eyes and saw reflected there the same sorrow that again threatened to tear her apart.
“I can’t do this!” she wailed, but then another presence materialized at her elbow.
“Yes, you can,” Mitch whispered, his strong arm coming around her shoulders.
She was desperate to believe it, and yet everything she knew about herself said it wasn’t so. She wasn’t strong enough to face what she’d done, what she’d lost, what she’d cost her brother and the rest of her family. She just wasn’t good enough, not as good as the daughter of Ransome and Charlotte Wynne should be. And now everyone would know.
Desperately she looked to the Ninevers. “What have they told you?”
Melissa appeared on the verge of tears. “Only that your nephew died.”
“In my emergency room!” Piper cried. She couldn’t say, “By my hand!” But surely everyone else was thinking it, too.
“Is tha
t why you ran from us, Pip?” Gordon asked, using her old childhood nickname. Of course he had to know that it was.
Trembling, she stood and watched Gordon approach. Only when he stopped did she realize that he carried something in his hand. Then he turned out his palm, and she was looking down into the smiling face of her nephew Asia. It was too much. She tried to twist away—to run, even—but Mitch’s long, strong arm wouldn’t let her.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Listen.”
“He was so much like you,” Gordon said, and Piper looked up sharply, hearing the note of pride in his voice. “Sunny-natured, caring, quick to take responsibility for everyone else’s happiness.”
“No,” she said, even as her gaze fell once more on that beloved face. “No.” The tears started to run again, but not so heavily that she couldn’t see Asia’s impish smile. “He was so good. He never complained.”
“Neither do you,” Gordon said, lifting his free hand to her shoulder.
“Inside,” she confessed brokenly. “You don’t know how many complaints I’ve kept inside.”
“Yes, I do,” he insisted gently, “I always knew, and I’ve always admired you for your restraint. I’ve struggled so hard to be more like you, Pip, always thinking of others, putting yourself last. Don’t you know that?”
That made so little sense that she shook her head. “No.”
“Can’t imagine why I’d want to be like you?” Gordon smiled, gazing down at the photo in his hand. “Just think of Asia and you’ll know. As I said, he was like you.”
Piper shook her head again. “If only you knew,” she choked out.
“But I do, sis,” Gordon went on. “Now, Thai…Thai is like me. He has to learn everything the hard way, always sure he’s doing the right thing no matter what anyone else says. Quick to complain, to lash out.”
“You’re not like that,” Piper scoffed, dashing away tears. He was a wonderful brother, father, husband, a wonderful pastor. He didn’t deserve to lose his firstborn son.
