A Kingsbury Collection

by Karen Kingsbury

  Is this what joy feels like, little one?

  She nuzzled and whispered to her daughter, and sometimes for hours at a stretch she bathed her infant with tears of guilt and regret and self-hatred. How could she call herself a Christian and give away her own precious daughter? What kind of person was she to choose Ben Stovall and his expectations of purity over the bundle of love and hope and joy in her arms?

  Maggie had no answers.

  Finally, at just after nine the next morning, a pretty young woman from Social Services came to take the baby away. Maggie refused to look up as the woman entered the room. She kept her eyes on her baby’s face, memorizing every feature, every detail in her cheeks and lips and chin because there would never be another chance.

  “Mrs. Taylor?” The woman came closer and stood inches away at Maggie’s bedside. At first Maggie thought they must have the wrong patient, but then she remembered. She’d used Nancy and Dan’s last name so that no one could come back years later and find out that Maggie Johnson had given a baby away in Woodland.

  The social worker put her hand gently on Maggie’s shoulder. “The nurses said you’re … having a hard time.”

  Maggie stared deeply into her baby’s eyes and spoke without ever looking at the woman. “Please whisper … my daughter frightens easily.”

  The woman was speechless for a moment. When it seemed the room might burst from tension, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and softly stroked Maggie’s arm. “Mrs. Taylor, if this isn’t the right decision for you, we need to talk about it.”

  If only the woman had grabbed the baby and run! Then Maggie could blame someone else and not be forced to live with the fact that she alone was responsible for the decision. Maggie’s tears landed erratically on the infant’s face, and she gently lowered her head and kissed them off the silky, newborn cheek. “It’s okay, sweetheart, Mommy’s here.”

  The social worker crossed her legs and seemed to be waiting. “Mrs. Taylor, should I tell them you’ve changed your mind?” Images of Ben swept her mind. He was the only man she’d ever loved, ever dreamed of marrying. Surely God would bless them with other babies. But if she kept this child now, there would be no future with Ben, no house full of babies raised in the loving light of godly parents. She would live her life as a single mother, and the baby would grow up most likely troubled and lonely. Probably repeating the very mistakes Maggie had made.

  No, that was no life for the sweet angel in her arms, not when giving her away meant a secure future and two loving parents. Maggie snuggled the infant closer and squeezed her eyes shut. She had no choice.

  The baby began to cry, and Maggie opened her eyes, turning to the social worker. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.” The words were so strained, so filled with desperation she barely recognized her own voice.

  “Very well. I’ll take her when you’re ready. The adoption won’t be official until the baby’s adoptive parents complete the proper paperwork. But you should know, Mrs. Taylor: once you sign the papers, it’s only forty-eight hours until your rights are severed.”

  Maggie nodded and her stomach began to tighten. Not the postpartum contractions the doctor had warned her about, but a terrible ache, like something inside her had slowly begun to die. I can’t do this, little girl. I’ll remember you forever … God help me know what to do …

  She nuzzled the baby close to her face and allowed herself to think the unthinkable. There would be no dresses bought for this tiny girl, no quiet moments to braid her hair or read her bedtime stories. Not for Maggie. Maybe I’ll die from the pain … then I won’t have to spend a lifetime wondering. She knew with utter certainty that the bond she felt in that moment would stay with her until the day she died. Giving her daughter up now felt almost as if she were about to drop the child off the edge of a cliff—it went against all the surprising maternal urges that had welled up in her over the past seven months.

  Help me, God. There must be another way … But there simply were no other choices; not if she wanted to give them both a better life.

  Maggie whispered into the infant’s ear. “No matter where you go, little one … whatever you do … I will always be your mommy. And I will always—”

  Her body was suddenly racked with a landslide of sobs so great she could only clutch the child in grief-stricken desperation and speak softly over and over, “I love you, honey … I’ll always love you.”

  When it was more than she could bear, when she knew that if she waited one more minute she would change her mind and forget Ben Stovall entirely, she gave the baby a final kiss and handed her over to the social worker.

  The woman—who had watched the scene quietly—had tears in her eyes as she took the infant. For a moment she held the baby and said nothing, only stared sadly at Maggie. When finally she could bring herself to speak, she said, “It’s the right thing, Mrs. Taylor. I’ve met the couple … your daughter will have a wonderful life.”

  Maggie nodded, consumed by a feeling of longing for her baby, a feeling that was wild and desperate. What could be more wonderful than being raised by your own

  mother? How could the baby have a good life knowing that Maggie had given her away, hadn’t wanted her?

  She averted her gaze so that she wouldn’t be tempted to let her eyes fall on the blanketed bundle in the social worker’s arms. She belongs to someone else now. Let her go. Let her go. Let her go.

  “I’ll have someone bring in the paperwork.” The social worker stood, and she and the baby left the room. It was the last time Maggie had ever seen her daughter.

  Dr. Camas shifted positions. “And you never told your husband about the child?”

  Maggie shook her head. “How could I? He thought I was a virgin. Once I got back home, Ben and I started seeing each other right away. He asked me if I’d dated anyone, and I told him there’d been nothing serious. He assumed … well, that things hadn’t changed.”

  “And physically he never doubted you?” Dr. Camas’s voice held no accusation, only a desire to understand.

  “Ben was a virgin. If there would have been a sign or something that might have told him I hadn’t been sexually pure, he wouldn’t have known it.” She thought for a moment. “If he’d doubted me, I’m sure he would have said something.”

  Dr. Camas leaned back in his chair and looked at Maggie for a long moment. “So then, you’ve kept this a secret for eight years?”

  Tears stung at Maggie’s eyes, and the cloak of darkness was as heavy and threatening as if it had never lifted. “Yes.”

  Christ is light, and in Him is no darkness …

  The Scripture came from nowhere and for several seconds the darkness eased. Come back, God! Don’t leave me now.

  Christ is light, and in Him—

  “How do you feel about that?”

  The holy whispers faded. Caught off guard, Maggie blinked and tried to remember what the conversation had been. “About what?”

  There was not even a flicker of impatience on Dr. Camas’s face. “Having lied about the baby for the past eight years. How do you feel?”

  For an instant, Maggie wanted to scream at the doctor. How did she feel about it? Couldn’t he see for himself? It had driven a wedge between her and Ben almost from the beginning of their marriage. Not a day passed when she didn’t think about the daughter she had given away. And when they had been unable to have children, she was certain God was punishing her for trading a precious baby for a life of lies.

  Adoption in and of itself was a good thing, Maggie knew. For many women it was a beautiful choice indeed. But not for her. Her reasons had been entirely self-centered, rooted in the soil of desire for a man who would not have wanted to share his life with her if he’d known the truth. So she lied and lost her daughter in the process.

  All for selfish reasons.

  How did she feel about it? “It’s making me crazy. I hate Ben. I hate myself. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

  Dr. Camas jotted something down on the clipboard
in front of him and smiled softly at Maggie. “I think you’re ready for the next step.”

  “Next step?” Maggie didn’t want a next step. She wanted to keep meeting with Dr. Camas and going over her life. Searching for some reasonable explanation that would shed light on the choices she’d made and the desperate darkness attempting to consume her.

  “Yes. Starting tomorrow we’ll be adding group therapy to your daily program. You’ll still meet with me; this will be in addition. Group therapy generally is where the most healing takes place. You’ll be meeting with a group of people who have situations similar to yours.”

  Maggie’s heart rate doubled. “Meaning what?”

  Dr. Camas rested his forearms on his desk and angled his head in a gesture that reminded Maggie of her father. “Everyone in your group is here because of anger issues and severe depression.”

  He had to be kidding. “I’m not ready for that. I can’t sit in a group and—”

  “Maggie … ” His voice was quiet, calm. He reached out and clasped his hand around hers, and although a great deal of fear and darkness remained, she felt the fight leave her. “Maggie, you’re ready.”

  Her shoulders slumped forward, and she let her head fall as tears formed and spilled onto her lap. She didn’t want to share her life with anyone else, especially with people who had troubles of their own. What if they recognized her? What if she forgot who she was or what she was saying and what if everyone in the group suddenly became blond, blue-eyed little girls looking for their mamas? “I can’t.”

  Dr. Camas waited until Maggie dried her eyes and met his gaze. “You can. Here’s what will happen … ”

  They spoke several more minutes, Maggie asking questions about the group while she tried to calm her pounding heart. What if it wasn’t time yet? There would be nowhere for her to run in a group setting. If he forced her to attend, she would refuse to speak, acting only as a silent observer. Nothing more.

  By the time she stood to leave, she was so filled with panic her knees were knocking. She made her way to the door and as she set off down the hallway for her bedroom, she was filled with an overwhelming sense of doom.

  Dr. Camas was wrong.

  She would never be ready to bare her soul to a group of strangers. Much less tell them the truth. Even if her fight against the demons of depression or darkness or whatever it was lasted a lifetime.

  THE DEPTHS

  Trust in the LORD with all your heart

  and lean not on your own understanding;

  in all your ways acknowledge him,

  and he will make your paths straight.

  PROVERBS 3:5

  15

  When Ben Stovall regained consciousness in a hospital bed at Cleveland General, his head swathed in gauze wrap, his entire body pulsating with a pain already dulled by medication, he was overwhelmed by two realizations—both of which rocked the foundations of his world.

  First, he was alive. He was breathing; he could move each of his limbs; and he was thinking clearly enough to recognize both facts. Without a doubt he had been spared by God Almighty Himself.

  The second realization was even stronger.

  The events that had put Maggie in a psychiatric hospital and landed him near death in this one had come together in his head to form an undeniable sense, a deep and unfathomable longing that defied description. He was swept up in a protective feeling, one that made him want to swim oceans or leap mountains, whatever it took to get to Maggie.

  He was in love.

  Back when everything about his marriage came easily he had expected her devotion as absolutely as he expected morning. Now, with Maggie refusing his visits and phone calls—with their marriage hanging in the balance—he was madly, undeniably, head-over-heels in love with his wife. And determined to find a way to reach her.

  What John McFadden had said wasn’t true; it couldn’t be. Maggie never would have slept with that … that man. She’d never gotten pregnant. And if she had been pregnant—if McFadden had raped her or forced her in some way—Maggie would have kept the baby. Ben was sure of that. Children were priceless by Maggie’s standards. Certainly she would have felt comfortable enough at that age—what, twenty-two, twenty-three?—to tell Ben the truth. Rape was an awful thing, but it wouldn’t have been Maggie’s fault. Why would she have lied about such a thing?

  The whole notion was ridiculous. She was a virgin when they were married; she had to be. Maggie was one of the most fine, upstanding women he knew. True, she was suffering from something terrible, something bigger than angry fan mail or failed attempts at pregnancy, something larger than anything she’d come up against before. But Maggie would never have given herself to a man like McFadden.

  Still, in those first waking moments he realized that whatever was bothering Maggie it had to be worse than anything he’d previously guessed. He pictured her lifeless eyes and empty voice that last day, the day before she went to Orchards.

  Whatever it is, honey, we’ll work it out. I’ll take some time off work, spend more time letting you talk, hearing you.

  He sighed.

  Why had it taken all of this for him to realize the depth of feelings he held for Maggie? His love for her was greater than life itself; he needed her more than the air he breathed. Without a doubt, if he hadn’t been in the hospital—if somehow he could have walked out on his own volition, hailed a cab, and made his way to Orchards Psychiatric Hospital—he would have done so. He would have sought Maggie out, found her, and held her close so she would never again feel the need to lie to him about anything. So she would know exactly how he felt about her.

  He gritted his teeth and tried to lift his arm over his head, but after a moment he let it drop again. Pain worked its way through every muscle in his body, seizing him in a vise grip. On his second try he found the strength to reach the telephone receiver. After getting the number from the operator again, he dialed the psychiatric hospital.

  “Orchards, may I help you?”

  This isn’t going to work. Hope leaked from Ben like air from a damaged tire. How can I get her to talk to me? “Uh, yes, Maggie Stovall please.”

  The receptionist paused. “Who may I say is calling?”

  Ben forced himself to think quickly. “Jay. From the Gazette.” Seconds passed, and a phone began to ring. “Nurse’s desk, just a moment. Maggie will be here in a minute.”

  Be here in a minute? She didn’t even have a phone in her room? How bad are you, Maggie? What happened to make you like this?

  “Hello?”

  Maggie’s voice took him by surprise. It had been over a week since he’d heard it. He basked in the sound.

  “Maggie … it’s me.”

  In the seconds that followed, Ben prayed she wouldn’t hang up. Her anger was the first thing he heard. “That’s a lousy thing to do, Ben.”

  He hesitated. “Maggie, we need to talk.”

  She drew several quick breaths, and Ben was struck by the nervousness in her voice. “No! There’s nothing to say. We’re finished. I told you in the note. I’ll call you when I’m out of here.” More quick breaths. “Now don’t call back. Please. I … I can’t take it, Ben.”

  She hung up before he could respond.

  Stunned, Ben remained motionless, the receiver still in his hand. The woman he had just spoken to sounded like a stranger. What’s happened to you, Maggie? He fought the urge to bolt from the room, the desperation to find a way to reach her and convince her she was wrong. Again only the intravenous tubing sewn into his arms held him in place.

  Ben held his breath. The reality of the situation was becoming clear.

  Whatever had happened in Maggie’s past, whatever parts of McFadden’s story were true or false, one thing was certain: Maggie wanted nothing to do with Ben. She wanted to be left alone. And in the coming months she planned—unbelievably—to divorce him and move on with her life. Alone.

  Ben felt tears stinging at his eyes, and he blinked them back. Help me, Lord, there’s got to
be a way to reach her.

  You were saved for a purpose, My son. Follow Me.

  Ben struggled to sit higher up in bed and allowed the reassuring holy whispers to wash over him. Somehow, even though his entire life had fallen apart in the past few weeks, God had a plan. God always had a plan for those who loved Him.

  Ben tried to assess his injuries, but it wasn’t until the doctor came in an hour later that he understood how grave his condition had been.

  The emergency team had infused him with two units of blood and by the time they got him on an operating table his heart had all but given up. In addition, his skull had been fractured, and they were even now watching for signs of a blood clot in his brain.

  “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Stovall.” The doctor was wrapping a fresh piece of gauze around his head injury. “A few minutes later, and you wouldn’t have survived.”

  Ben was barely listening. He had the overpowering sense that God wanted him to continue searching. That somewhere—even if it had nothing to do with the lies McFadden told—there was truth where Maggie was concerned.

  Love in wisdom and truth … love covers a multitude of sins.

  The thoughts were enough to make Ben jump out of bed. His doctor was rambling on about resting and taking it easy, but when the man got to the part about filing police charges, Ben began to listen again.

  “Police charges?”

  “Yes. Do you know for certain who beat you up?”

  He nodded. He could see as clearly as if he were watching it again the strange activity taking place near the van, the dozens of boxes being loaded from it into the bar storeroom. “I know everything. His name, where he works. All of it.”