Overcomer

by Chris Fabry

  Her dad had a gray-and-black beard and mustache. She didn’t expect that. His hair was salt-and-pepper. The only picture she had in her mind was the one of him running, with #77 on his shirt, and this man didn’t look like that at all. His arms lay at his sides and he didn’t move, except for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The light from the window showed only half of his face. He wore a hospital gown and she remembered how uncomfortable those were.

  “Well, Thomas, we’re here,” Coach Harrison said. “Um, you’ve met Amy.”

  “Hello, Amy.”

  That voice. That was her father’s voice. Deep. Rich. But also strained. He seemed to be holding back. Coach Harrison said he had a good sense of humor. Why didn’t he smile?

  “Hi, Thomas,” Mrs. Harrison said, stepping forward to squeeze the man’s hand. “It’s nice to see you again.”

  He turned his head when she touched him. “I tried to pick out a better outfit, but I couldn’t tell if anything matched.”

  Her father smiled and chuckled, but it felt forced. Was he as nervous as Hannah?

  Mrs. Harrison laughed. “Well, you look just fine.”

  “And Hannah is here,” Coach Harrison said.

  The formal introduction. The moment she’d waited for. The moment he had waited for, probably. She looked at her coach. Her mouth felt dry, her lungs tight. Coach Harrison didn’t speak again and she knew it was her turn.

  She had no words.

  She had practiced what she would say all day. She’d imagined this meeting as she went to sleep the night before. Now she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She looked at her father. He was wearing something on the index finger of his left hand that was hooked to a machine by the bed.

  “Hello, Hannah,” he said.

  Everyone in the room waited for her. All she could say was “Hello.”

  Beep, beep.

  “Coach tells me you’re his number one runner,” her father said.

  Something dripped from a plastic bag by the bed and she followed the rubber tube to her father’s arm.

  “I guess,” she said softly.

  Coach Harrison said something Hannah didn’t hear. Something encouraging, she thought, judging by his tone.

  “I hope you keep at it,” her father said.

  He wasn’t a skeleton. His arms seemed strong. And she wanted to ask why he hadn’t come back for her. Why had he stayed away all these years? But she couldn’t. Not yet. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But there was so much stirring inside.

  “Thomas, I understand you were third in the state,” Mrs. Harrison said, breaking the awkward silence.

  Her father laughed. “Yes, I was, back in the day.”

  That was a phrase her grandmother sometimes used. Back in the day. That meant a long time ago. And a long time ago her mother was alive and the two of them knew each other, and she wanted to ask him a thousand questions about her and what had really happened. Had he ever thought of finding his daughter, ever wondered how she was doing in the last fifteen years?

  Quickly the voice of her grandmother intruded. Scolding her for asking questions. Fear shot through her and Hannah wondered if any minute her grandmother would walk through the door and yell.

  “Hannah! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Her father smiled nervously. “So, Hannah, how’s Coach doing?”

  For some reason she didn’t understand, Hannah now imagined her mother, what she would look like if she were alive. She would stand by his bed, perhaps hold his hand. She would say things the Harrisons said. She and her father would look at each other with knowing glances, the secret code.

  She tried to breathe but it was hard. The walls seemed like they were getting closer as her lungs tightened.

  “He’s doing okay,” Hannah managed to say.

  “Oh, just okay,” Coach said dryly. He was trying to lighten the mood, break the ice.

  That was it. She felt underwater with ice above her and she couldn’t get to the surface to breathe.

  A nurse walked through the door with a stethoscope around her neck and a file under her arm. She smiled. “Excuse me. I need to get his vitals if I could, please.”

  “Hello, Rose,” her father said, full-voiced. “You come to join the party?” He seemed comfortable with the nurse. More than with Hannah.

  As the two bantered, Hannah turned to Mrs. Harrison and whispered, “I need to leave.”

  “Okay,” Mrs. Harrison said.

  Hannah slipped out of the room. In the hallway she felt like she could breathe. She clenched her fists, working feeling back into her hands, and she noticed a doctor and a couple of nurses down the hall. Everyone was busy, everyone had a job, everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they were supposed to do and here she was, outside the room of her dying father with no idea what to feel, how to act, or what to say.

  “Hannah, are you all right?” Mrs. Harrison said, turning her around to face her.

  Hannah nodded, expecting to be told she should say good-bye to her dad, that she couldn’t just walk away. Instead, Mrs. Harrison looked her in the eyes and said, “Let’s go sit in the car, okay? John will be down in a few minutes.”

  And just like that they turned and she felt Mrs. Harrison’s arm around her, pulling her close as they walked to the elevator.

  CHAPTER 28

  John watched Amy follow Hannah into the hallway. When the nurse left, Thomas turned his eyes toward the foot of his bed and said, “So, Hannah, you probably have a lot of questions for me . . .”

  “Thomas, Hannah stepped out,” John said gently. “I think she needed to leave.”

  “Oh.” His face fell. “Do you think I said something wrong?”

  “I think it was a lot for her to take in, you know?”

  “Yeah. I expect so.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Maybe this was a mistake, John. Maybe it was better to let her think I was gone.”

  “I’ve always heard the truth will set you free.”

  “I’ve heard that too. But at the same time, the truth can hurt people you care about. You have to factor that into the equation.”

  John looked at his watch—that wasn’t there. He couldn’t believe how many times he looked for that thing. “I think I’d better go find them and take Hannah home.”

  “Sure. Go ahead. I understand. And tell Hannah that . . .”

  John watched Thomas’s eyes. There was a mist in them.

  “Tell her I understand. Tell her she doesn’t need to come back if she doesn’t want to. And . . .”

  “I’ll tell her, Thomas.”

  “Just take care of her. That’s all I need to know. That she’s cared for. I appreciate what you tried to do.”

  John put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “Keep praying.”

  They drove in silence toward Hannah’s little house by the river. Every time he looked in the rearview, he saw her staring out the window. John told Hannah what Thomas had said, but he wanted to say more, to ask what Hannah was thinking. He glanced at Amy and she seemed to be in a similar place—unsure whether to speak or stay quiet.

  When they pulled up to the curb outside Hannah’s house, the girl opened the side door and was to the front steps before he and Amy could get out.

  “Hannah, would you like me to stay with you until your grandma gets home?” Amy said.

  Hannah looked back and shook her head. “It’s okay.” Then, with eyes focused on Amy, lasered in and mature beyond their years, she said, “I need some time to think.”

  “Okay, you have our number,” Amy said. “Please call us if you need anything.”

  Hannah thanked her and walked inside. John wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask Hannah to give Thomas another chance.

  Amy paused by the car. “Please tell me we did the right thing.”

  He wanted to respond immediately, to say they had, but he wasn’t sure. He got in the car and sat, his hands on the steering wheel. “Here’s what I know. There’s no part of me that w
ants to do the wrong thing. We only wanted to help. That’s what I’m hoping God will honor.”

  That night, while he was in bed and the house was quiet and all he could hear was the soft breathing of his wife, John stared into the darkness of the room and wondered about Thomas. He closed his eyes. Was this what his friend saw? Was blindness pitch-darkness? Was it a shade of gray or blue or crimson?

  He got out of bed and quietly walked downstairs and sat on the couch in the dark. What do you do when your life doesn’t match your expectations? How do you respond when events take you in a direction you hadn’t planned? What happens when your efforts lead to doubt and more questions than answers?

  John had written the script he wanted to see unfold before him in that hospital room. He wanted to introduce Hannah to her father, then see them embrace and laugh and connect. He wanted a greeting card moment, a picture or video he could take that would go viral because it plucked all the heartstrings. He and Amy would steal away to the cafeteria, and hours later they would retrieve Hannah from her father’s bedside. When Barbara realized the bond between father and daughter, she would be on board and they would smile and celebrate the reunion. Everything roses and daffodils.

  John heard a creak in the house. Some unexplainable noise. Had he done this for Thomas and Hannah, or had he done it for himself? Had he acted in a way that made sense to him without taking into account the hurt that might come?

  John was a born fixer. Something breaks in the house or the car, you fix it. If your team’s defense breaks, you shore it up in practice. If the lawn mower quits, you put on a new head gasket or take it to somebody who can.

  But this wasn’t a lawn mower or a loose defense. These were hearts and souls, and sitting in the dark, he realized he had as little control over what happened with Hannah and Thomas as he did over the team, his son’s future, the town, and everything that hadn’t gone as planned.

  Pastor Mark had said something in one of his recent sermons. He was in a series in 1 Corinthians and he said in any relationship struggle you could ask a single question: “What does love look like here?”

  “Many throw that word around like it’s simple,” Pastor Mark said. “Loving others can be soft and tender. But it can also be bold with hard truth. Taking the risk to love means you might miss the mark. You might have to apologize. If you go there, you’re in what I call ‘God territory.’ It’s a place where He’s working in others and in you as well.”

  What did love look like with Hannah and Thomas? And what about Barbara? And what could he learn from the painful process they were going through? He opened his hands in front of him and prayed. There was a peace in the middle of this storm. When he returned to bed, Amy’s soft breathing was the sound that lulled him to surrender to both God and sleep.

  CHAPTER 29

  Hannah felt in a daze after meeting her father. She found the photo of him running and returned it to the box in her grandmother’s closet. Then she sat on her bed holding the magazine ad she’d nearly worn out. She wanted her dad to be like the guy in the picture, smiling and holding her on his shoulders. She wanted to “create lifelong memories,” just like the ad said. Tears came and she ripped the picture in half and then tore it again. How could someone trapped in a hospital bed give her anything?

  She hadn’t asked any of the questions she had planned. He hadn’t apologized. There was no pleading for her to forgive him. But she hadn’t really given him a chance. She felt bad about leaving so abruptly, but she’d been so confused in his room, by his bed. So many expectations from everyone there.

  When her grandmother arrived, Hannah pretended to study and said she wasn’t hungry. Finally she dried her eyes and asked how her grandmother’s day had gone.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What’s gotten into you? Asking about work? You never do that.”

  “I just wondered, that’s all.”

  Her grandmother told a funny story about what a customer had said at the restaurant and Hannah chuckled. But it was short-lived. All she could think about was her father. She wanted to tell her grandmother what he looked like and how sick he was. She wanted to ask why she’d said he had died when he hadn’t. But she couldn’t say that. She had to keep all those thoughts locked up. And that made her feel more alone than if her grandmother left for a year.

  In her sleep, she heard the beep, beep of the heart monitor and dreamed she was running down a hospital corridor that never ended. Fluorescent lights flashed and flickered above her and each room she passed housed a stranger. She couldn’t find her father.

  The next day, she had a science test in first period. She stared at the words and the multiple choices, but all she could see was her father’s face against that blue pillowcase. She looked up at Mrs. Harrison during the test and saw her teacher staring back at her. Tests were super important. But there was something bigger looming over her life.

  She spotted Robert in the hallway after school and managed to avoid him by darting into the girls’ locker room. She dressed for cross-country and went out a side door to the field and sat on the bleachers. Coach Harrison walked down the hill and she wondered if he’d had second thoughts about introducing her to her father.

  “How we doing today?” he said.

  “I don’t really feel like running.”

  He stared at her and she noticed the light spot on his arm where his watch used to be. Guilt washed over her.

  “So maybe we take the day off,” he said.

  He sat on the bleachers a few feet from her and studied his stopwatch. After a while he lifted his hat and turned slightly toward her. “Hannah, I’m sorry that taking you to the hospital caused you pain. I know that must have been difficult.”

  It was the silence between them and Coach Harrison’s ability to sit and not say anything that prodded her to respond. Finally she let go of something inside. “I want to go see him again.”

  Coach Harrison looked at her, clearly surprised. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “But this time, could we talk alone?”

  “Of course.”

  “I didn’t say anything I wanted to say.”

  Coach Harrison gave a quiet laugh. “Neither did he.”

  “Could we go now?” Hannah said.

  “Let me get Amy. We’ll take you up to his room and leave the two of you to talk.”

  Thirty minutes later, Hannah sat in her father’s hospital room. Her dad’s face lit up when he heard footsteps. When the Harrisons mentioned they had brought Hannah for another visit, he smiled broadly.

  Once they were alone, her father’s face grew serious and with a halting voice he said, “Thank you for coming back. I was worried I said the wrong thing.”

  Hannah shook her head. “No, you didn’t.”

  “I know you must have a lot of questions. You can say anything, ask anything you want. I promise to be honest.”

  Tears came to her eyes and she could only think of two words. “What happened?”

  There it was. Two words held the weight of the past. Hannah studied her father’s face as he thought.

  “You know how people like to think that they’re a good person? I thought I was. But I wasn’t, Hannah.”

  Just the sound of her name touched something inside, resonated in her heart. The look on his face was sincere—like he wasn’t putting on any mask or trying to say something she wanted to hear.

  “I lived selfish all my life,” he continued. “I lived it for me. I hurt so many people. Your mother. Your grandmother. You. And so many others.”

  Each word was like a weight her father lifted with his breath. She watched his face through the blur of tears. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to because he was pouring out all his life, all his regret before her.

  “I left because I was a fool. And I wouldn’t listen to anyone. Especially God. I ran from everything that mattered. But because God loves me, He let me be broken. And I needed to be broken.” Her father leaned forward slightly in his bed as he talked abo
ut God, and big tears formed in his eyes. “He finally got my attention and I gave Him my heart because that’s the only thing I got left.”

  Hannah had wondered if a blind man could cry. When the first tear ran down her father’s cheek, something broke inside her own heart. He struggled for the next words and she watched, feeling as if there was something trapped that was rising to the surface at last.

  “So I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. If I could take it all back, I would. I know I don’t deserve it, but I pray that one day you will forgive me.”

  His eyes wandered. She was so quiet he probably didn’t even know if she was still there. Finally she managed to say two more words that were stuck in her own heart.

  “It’s hard.”

  He lay back on his pillow. Just those two words were enough for him. “I understand,” he whispered. “I understand.”

  She felt as if she had received a gift she desperately wanted. She had heard her father ask for her forgiveness. He had owned his actions and was sorry about the pain he caused. And something else he said touched a nerve. He said all of this was motivated by God’s love. It was the same thing she heard from Mrs. Brooks, Mrs. Harrison, and Coach. The same thing she heard in Bible class. The teacher had said the Bible was one long story of God’s love reaching out to those who don’t deserve it but who desperately need it.

  “I don’t know if I can forgive,” Hannah said before she left. “I want to. But I’m not sure how. Or what that means.”

  “You don’t know how much it means to me that you would even think about these things, Hannah. I’m so grateful you came today.”

  She touched his shoulder before she left and he placed his hand over hers.

  “Thank you for coming back.”

  On the ride home, the Harrisons didn’t ask what had happened. They let her ride in silence, and as she stared out the window, somehow things looked different. The greens of the landscape appeared deeper and the reds darker. She could not have explained it if someone had asked, but if they had, she would have described the advertisement she had ripped apart. She felt like that little girl on her father’s shoulders.