by Al Lacy
“I’ll arrange it with my employer,” said McClain. “We’ll be here at eleven o’clock on Monday.”
They stepped out of Worley’s office. The nurse took Rya down a long hall, and Dr. Worley told his receptionist to set an appointment for the Reardons to see him at eleven o’clock Monday morning. McClain took a seat in the waiting area.
In the following few days, Rya and McClain were happy to have their evenings together. But there was always the niggling awareness that time was slipping through their fingers like sand in an hourglass.
Rya rested most of the time on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, but still did little things to help Helen around the house. She also spent part of the afternoons praying and reading her Bible. She committed Psalm 121 to memory, and daily drew strength from God’s Word.
On Saturday afternoon when McClain came home from work, he found Rya and Helen sitting at the kitchen table, sipping hot tea.
McClain greeted Helen and bent down and kissed his wife’s pale cheek. “Have you been a good girl today, sweet stuff?”
“I have. I’ve rested even more than usual today so I’ll feel like going to church tomorrow morning.”
“Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I want to be in God’s house and hear His Word taught and preached.”
“Taught and preached, huh? So you think you can handle both Sunday school and the preaching service?”
“Yes.”
He bent down and kissed her cheek again. “All right, sweetheart. I’m glad you feel well enough to do both.”
On Monday morning at eleven, the receptionist led the Reardons into Dr. Worley’s office and seated them in front of the desk, telling them the doctor would be there shortly. She hurried back to her desk, leaving the office door open.
McClain took hold of Rya’s hand and squeezed it. “You look a bit peaked, honey. As soon as we’re through here, I’ll get you home so you can lie down and rest.”
She gave him a loving look and nodded.
They heard rapid footsteps in the hall, and Dr. Worley entered his office.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Reardon,” he said, rounding the desk and sitting down. He opened a drawer and took out a folder with Rya’s name on the tab. He smiled and ran his eyes from one face to the other. “I have some very good news. Mrs. Reardon, you do not have cancer. You never did.”
A lump rose in McClain’s throat.
Rya’s eyes filled with tears, and she was speechless.
“What … what does she have, Doctor?” asked McClain.
“Her problem is a stomach ulcer, which has dealt her all this misery. I’ve seen it happen just like this many times. Tests sometimes seem to show that the patient has cancer, when all the time, it’s an ulcer. Please do not blame Dr. Yarrow. We probably have more advanced testing techniques than he does, but until medical science improves a whole lot more, this same error will occur time and time again.”
“But you’re absolutely sure of your diagnosis, Doctor?” McClain said.
“Yes, sir. Absolutely. Our laboratory technicians were elated when they announced it to me. My staff of physicians all looked at the test results, and we are in agreement with the technicians. This dear young lady has an ulcer, but she does not have cancer.”
McClain jumped out of his chair, and Rya stood up. They held onto each other and wept, praising the Lord together, while the doctor looked on, excess moisture in his own eyes.
Worley told them about a new medicine that had just come from some doctors in Switzerland, which he was sure would heal the ulcer in time, if Rya took it as he would prescribe.
Rya assured him she would.
The doctor added that with plenty of rest and the proper diet, she would gain some weight, and though the ulcer would act up once in a while until it was completely healed, she would be fine.
As they drove toward home, McClain put an arm around Rya and pulled her close. “Sweetheart, I have begged God for a miracle, and here it is, sitting right next to me! He, indeed, is the Great Physician!”
Rya was weeping for joy and couldn’t speak.
She looked up through her tears into her husband’s face and suddenly his countenance changed. “Sooner or later the law will catch up to me. I’ll go back to prison for the rest of my life. We … we still have so little time.”
Rya wiped tears and sniffed. “As soon as I get better, we’ve got to pack up and go elsewhere. The Lord knows you didn’t kill Jason. Certainly He will help us elude the law, even as He helped you escape from San Quentin.”
They were drawing near the house.
“It’ll have to be God’s hand to do it, Rya. There’s no way on earth I can take care of you and hide from the law for very long. I—”
Rya frowned as McClain narrowed his eyes, looking straight toward their house. “What’s wrong?”
Her own eyes fell on the man and woman standing in the front yard as McClain said, “That’s a lawman with Mrs. Jeffries, who lives next door. See his badge? That’s his horse there in the driveway.”
The neighbor woman pointed at the oncoming buggy and the lawman looked straight at McClain.
“What are you going to do?” Rya asked in a fearful voice.
“There’s nothing I can do,” McClain said, pulling back on the reins. “We can’t outrun him in this buggy. I’m going back to prison. I’ll have to send you home to your parents.”
Rya’s heart sank.
The lawman started toward the buggy, and the neighbor woman hurried into her house.
Rya bit her lower lip. Please, oh, please, Lord. Not after what we just learned from Dr. Worley! Don’t let them take McClain back to prison. This has been such a glorious day with the wonderful news that I’m not dying with cancer.
McClain felt nauseous as he drew the buggy to a halt in front of the house. They both saw by the lawman’s badge that he was a deputy United States marshal.
“Mr. and Mrs. Reardon, I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Clint Forbes,” the lawman said. “Mr. Reardon, I’ve been on your trail for a week, and I’m sure glad I found you. It’s my happy privilege to tell you that you are a free man! Jason Lynch’s killer was a man named Jack Bowles.”
Rya looked at McClain then at the deputy U.S. marshal in stunned surprise.
“They caught him?” said McClain, his voice strained.
“Yes, sir. Bowles was in a work accident several days ago, and the doctors told him he was dying. Not wanting to die with the murder on his conscience, Bowles asked for the sheriff and confessed that it was him who put the knife in Lynch’s chest after they had been arguing in the saloon.”
“The miracle I prayed for has happened!” Rya cried. “Oh, praise the Lord!”
McClain jumped out of the buggy. “Deputy Forbes, let’s go in the house so we can talk further.”
Rya had the men sit at the kitchen table and put a coffeepot on the stove. She sat next to her husband, and while they held hands, Forbes explained that after McClain’s escape from San Quentin and word came from Sheriff Drew that McClain had been cleared, his office commissioned him to find the innocent man and let him know he had been cleared.
Forbes reached into his coat pocket and handed McClain an envelope. “There’s a letter in here from the governor of California, Mr. Reardon. It’s an apology for the wrongful verdict of the jury, and it also declares you innocent of the murder charge and a free man.”
Rya shed tears as she hugged her husband’s neck. “Oh, glory to God! He is truly the God of miracles!”
Forbes smiled. “Mr. Reardon, everybody in Sacramento knows that you are innocent and a free man. I talked to Ward Lamont. He is eager for you to return to Sacramento so the two of you can follow up on his plan.”
Rya went to the stove and poured coffee around. After Deputy Forbes had downed two cups of coffee, he thanked the Reardons for their hospitality and rode away.
Standing on the front porch as Forbes disappeared at the corner of the block, M
cClain turned to Rya and said, “Now I know why the Lord let me be convicted and go to San Quentin. I told you about the four convicts who helped me escape.”
“Yes. Because you had led them to the Lord.”
“And that’s just it, honey. There were actually more men I was able to lead to the Lord, too. If I hadn’t been there, the nine men I had the joy of leading to Jesus might have gone on through life and died lost.”
Rya laughed happily. “All things really do work together for good to them that love God!”
They stepped back into the parlor, and neither said a word, but both fell to their knees at the couch, holding hands.
“Thank You, dear Lord, for the valley,” said McClain. “In the valley, You allowed me to win those lost men to You. I can see that Your plan was perfect. Help us to remember always, as Your Word says, ‘As for God, his way is perfect!’ ”
“Amen,” Rya said in a whisper. “May we always praise, honor, and glorify You, dear Lord.”
They prayed for the new Christians in San Quentin Prison, asking the Lord to help them to grow in grace and to lead other men to Jesus.
They stood up and wrapped their arms around each other, tears flowing.
“Praise the Lord!” Rya said. “Now we can have our life together!”
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