by Lois Richer
Oh, God, why am I here?
Chapter Eight
Jared avoided her for one full week.
But no matter where he tried to hide, Glory always found him. Even here in the lab where he’d deliberately locked himself in, she pounded on the door until he responded.
“Took you long enough.” She noticed his petri dishes. “What are you doing?”
“Working. Is there something you need?” He moved in front of her, refusing to let her see his notes. “Well, Dr. Cranbrook?”
“We’re not going back to that again, are we?” She laughed, her green eyes glinting teasing flickers. “Okay, okay.” She held up one hand, obviously receiving the ‘do not disturb’ message he was sending. “I need a judge. Or rather we do.”
She was such a contrary mix of joy and whimsy and temper and laughter. How did she manage to pack so much into such a small body?
“A judge? For what?”
“For judging, of course. Our contest. Come on.” She grabbed his arm and tugged.
Jared followed. He’d caught whispers all week, heard the giggles behind his back, endured conversations that stopped dead when he walked into the room. The staff was up to something. Which was exactly why he’d chosen to work nights and bury himself in here during the day.
“You have to put this on.” She handed him a polka-dot blindfold. “We want our judge without prejudice.”
Jared couldn’t tell if that was a dig. Glory walked him through the hospital corridors, which sounded oddly hollow, empty. He detected the smell of today’s lunch and figured they were near the cafeteria.
“Okay, you have to stand here.” Glory pushed and prodded until he was finally situated where she wanted. “Is everyone ready?”
“Who’s everyone?” A few giggles burst out. Jared identified several of the staff as they hissed admonishments. Then his blindfold was whipped away.
“Ta-da!”
Jared blinked in the harsh sunlight, gaped at the once white wall of Agapé’s north side.
It had been painted. Every square inch bore some color. To the left of the sliding cafeteria doors was an aquarium teeming with the most exotic fish he’d ever seen. Astonishing patterns decorated the backs of some while others swam through the water with mercifully plain scales. The effect was both whimsical and charming.
“Now look over here.”
Jared scanned the right of the sliding doors. Also an undersea world, but this one teemed with children, some with fins, some with breathing apparatus, and some with funny legs or feet that could have been webbed. They were aquamarine, purple, spotted, starred. But not one child had scars.
“Well?” Glory prodded, her hand tucked into Bennie’s. “Which side do you like the best, Judge?”
He blinked, stunned by what she’d created. Behind her he saw the children, eyes as big as saucers as they waited for his decision. Any child that was able to walk, limp, ride, be carried or slid on a bed was gathered behind him. Excitement didn’t begin to cover the energy that rippled through the group. Even the staff shuffled nervously.
“Say something,” Glory hissed.
He turned back to survey the work.
“Who is responsible for this?” he demanded sternly.
“Jared, please don’t spoil it.” Her fingers tightened on his arm, her face implored him.
“I want to know who did this. You?” he asked August.
“Some of it, yeah.”
Everyone was holding their breath, doubt beginning to creep into the happy expressions. They were afraid of him. Dismay filled him as one staff member met another’s glance with an ‘I told you so’ look.
“I did some of it, too.” Leilani stepped forward.
“Me, too,” admitted Bennie, but his fingers clung to Glory’s.
“Which part did you do, Bennie?” Jared hunched down when the boy pointed to a black blob that could have been a sea urchin. “I see. And August?”
“There.” August pointed to an angelfish.
“Mmm, hmm.”
“Maybe we should take the kids inside now.” Glory’s voice wobbled, on the edge of tears.
Beautiful strong Glory.
“I thought you wanted me to judge.” He smiled at her. “But I can’t judge this. Both of these are fantastic. I award both sides first place. Congratulations to all of you on a very good job. Do we have prizes?”
The tension snapped like an overtaut fishing line. Everyone began speaking at once.
“Thank you.” Glory’s glowing smile made him feel like a hero.
“I’m not an ogre, you know.”
“I do know, Jared. Now so do they.” She indicated the group, busily pointing out their part in the work.
“Potter painted something?”
“He sketched out the right side, Leilani the left. Turns out they’ve been spending some off-hours together, painting.”
“Really?”
She nodded, grinning at his disbelief. “Really.”
A cook appeared in the doorway, nodded at Glory.
“Come on, everyone. Cake and ice cream for the winners. Which all of you are.”
They hurried inside for their treat. Jared stood back and studied the murals, noting details he’d missed the first time. The art really was a wonderful addition to the rather plain building.
“Aren’t you going to have some cake?” Glory asked. She was alone now.
“In a minute. This needs something,” he told her. “Can you get me a can of black paint?”
“Jared, they worked so hard.” Fear crowded out the joy he’d glimpsed earlier. “Please don’t—”
He laid a finger over her lips to silence her. “Trust me?”
After several breathless minutes she finally nodded, disappeared. When she returned, she carried a small black paint pot and a brush.
“Here.”
“Thanks.” He pried open the pot, dipped the brush and began writing in the only open space he could find.
By the Keiki.
Then he replaced the lid, wrapped the brush in one of the napkins that had fluttered through the door.
“You didn’t think I wasn’t going to be part of it, did you?” he asked, delighted by the grin that lit up her face, surprised to realize how much her quiet thank-you meant.
Glory crept through the predawn shadows, careful to avoid the pebbled path as she skirted Jared’s house. The dew soaking her toes was worth it if it kept her secret a little longer. He still didn’t know she was sitting with Sister Phil so often and she had no intention of telling him. Not yet. Not until she’d found some of the answers her heart needed to know about Jared and God’s will for her life. Jared didn’t need to know her inner doubts.
If only I could figure out how to get extra nurses.
But though she’d prayed nonstop for the past few weeks, no answer had materialized. Kahlia found helpers and when they couldn’t come, she devoted herself to the frail nun, precious hours Glory needed to rest. But even Kahlia was running low. This couldn’t go on for much longer.
“Good morning, Sister.” She’d known the old woman wouldn’t be sleeping, even though the sun hadn’t yet risen. “You look pretty in that gown.”
Kahlia rose from the chair, hugged Glory then bent to kiss her patient.
“I’ll see you later,” she assured her before beckoning Glory outside the room. “She’s been quiet but I can tell she’s suffering. The medications don’t seem to be working that well.”
“It sometimes happens. I’ll speak to Jared.”
“I’ve arranged for several visitors today—old friends who are making a special trip. They haven’t seen Sister Phil in a long time. They want to repay her kindness.” Kahlia held out a sheet. “I hope it won’t be too much for her.”
“I think she’ll rally,” Glory assured her. “You are a true blessing.”
Kahlia drove away, promising to return to Agapé in time for an afternoon session of Valentine-making. She’d made a fresh pot of coffee and Gl
ory poured herself a cup before taking her place beside Sister’s bed.
“What shall I read this morning?” she asked, leafing through the worn Bible that always sat on the nightstand. “Continue in Psalms?”
A slight nod confirmed her choice and she read from the hundred and fifth one, marveling as the woman’s lips moved, reciting the words from memory.
“I love those words.” The precious rasping voice whispered the words with awe. “A testament to God keeping his promises to His children. We doubt so often and yet He is always faithful. How is your relationship with Jared?”
The question came out of nowhere. Glory described the murals and his response.
“It was amazing.” And it had left a warm afterglow around her heart.
“God is working His way through Jared’s shell.” Frail fingers reached out to grasp her own. “And you, have you found the answers you seek?”
Glory shook her head. She felt so guilty for unloading on a woman who was fighting for her life, but Sister made it easy.
“I love it here. I love the kids, I love the work, I love the ocean and the sun—”
“And Jared?” the old woman probed.
“I—I’m not sure.”
“You are troubled by your promise.”
She nodded.
“I have to go back. Only yesterday I received another note from my friends. The interim doctor has not stayed as long as they hoped. Now they’re looking for someone to fill the spot until I can return. I feel guilty about coming here and I still don’t know why I’m here.”
“Our Lord understood you would be torn by your decision to help Elizabeth, so stop tormenting yourself. Do the best you can, enjoy your relationships and wait for God to show you His way. But—” She had to stop to catch her breath.
When the spasm passed, Glory eased her back against the pillows.
“Don’t talk anymore,” she begged. “Rest.”
Sister dragged another breath into her fragile lungs. “Glory, don’t confuse your devotion to your mother with God’s way.”
“You don’t think God is telling me to go home?” she asked in confusion.
“I didn’t say that.” Sister closed her eyes for a minute to rebuild her strength. “We think we know God’s will. We read our Bible, pick out a particular passage and think this is what God is trying to tell us. But we’re afraid to wait for the assurance in our hearts that we are acting as He wishes.”
“What if that assurance never comes?”
“He will lead us, Glory. Never doubt He will lead us.”
A light tap on the outside door broke through the hush that filled the room. A moment later Jared stepped inside. He didn’t seem surprised to see her there.
“Good morning, ladies. You two rise early.”
“We’re after the worm,” Sister Phil joked, tilted her head for him to kiss her cheek. “How are you this morning, Jared?”
“Well. I brought you some breakfast.” He turned, lifted a tray onto the bedside table. “Fresh croissants and some fruit. Do you feel up to eating?”
“Perhaps I will wait awhile.” She gazed at him. “Glory tells me Bennie is slow at recovery.”
“He’s as well as can be expected.” Jared shot her a glare that accused her of asking Sister to intervene for the little boy who tugged at her heartstrings.
“I have seen a picture. He is darling.”
“He is a heartbreaker.”
That noncommittal response irritated Glory into speech.
“He’s a damaged child who needs treatment to allow him to return to normal life. Jared’s procedure could give him that but he refuses to do it.”
“Sister Phil doesn’t need to witness our disagreements, Dr. Cranbrook.”
“I am happy to mediate.” But Sister’s gaze held Jared’s. “Your technique was so successful before. Why not give Bennie a chance?”
“I will not do the procedure again. Ever.” He shot Glory a glower that promised later discussion. “I will not bring disrepute to this mission and I will not endanger another child needlessly.”
“It’s not needlessly,” Glory burst out, but Sister waved a hand to silence her.
“We are a place of help,” she reminded. “By clinging to your guilt you only hurt yourself.”
The clench of Jared’s jaw proved he was fighting his impulse to argue. Glory wished she’d never begun the discussion. Sister Phil looked paler, weaker. A soft moan escaped her and she closed her eyes against the pain.
Jared snatched a syringe with morphine and injected it. “Relax,” he murmured. “It will kick in soon.”
“You both have work to do,” Sister murmured. “Go now. We’ll discuss Bennie later.”
Glory would have protested, but at that moment a woman walked into the room.
“Kahlia sent me,” she whispered after a quick glance at the bed. “To watch over Sister Phil. I’m a retired nurse.”
While Jared explained his orders, Glory left as quickly as she could. But she’d trod only a few steps away from the pretty little cottage before his fingers closed around her arm.
“What did you think you were doing, drawing her into our argument?” The gentle tones for Sister Phil were replaced by indignation. “She’s a sick old woman. She doesn’t need to arbitrate our differences.”
“Bennie is an innocent child who doesn’t deserve to pay for someone else’s mistake.” She turned on him angrily. “Have you even noticed the changes in his shoulder?”
She didn’t need to wait for his answer; she saw it in his eyes.
“A few more months and it will be too late to help him, Jared. He’ll be left with a massive scar that will begin restricting the movement he has.”
“Don’t lecture me,” he snapped. “He’s another child, one of many who come to Agapé. I’m not God. I can’t make everything better for all of them.”
“But you can for him. Bennie is one child, true. All we can do is help one child at a time.” She lowered her voice. “You could maximize his opportunities, change the way his future will unfold. That’s within your power. I don’t understand why you refuse to help.”
“I don’t understand why he’s become so important to you.” His eyes probed beyond her shrug. “Why Bennie, Glory?”
“Why not? Bennie could be my child. And if he were—if that little boy was mine, I would fight you every step of the way until you gave your very best to him. Until you did everything you were capable of doing to help.”
“Why?”
“Because I love him. Because that’s my job,” she sputtered. “Because that’s what people, adults, civilized human beings must do to remain humane.”
“Now I’m not humane?” He opened his mouth to say something, closed it just as quickly. Then he turned and stormed away.
Too late, Glory realized her implication had hurt him. Shame suffused her heart. She scooted forward, jogging to keep up.
“I didn’t mean that, Jared. I wasn’t trying to say you hadn’t already done a lot. It’s just that Bennie is—”
“What? Special?” He stopped so quickly she bumped into him. “They’re all special, Glory. Beautiful perfect children who had their whole lives stretching out before them until God let them get hurt.”
“You blame God for their injuries?”
“Of course I blame Him. Why not? Who else has the power to stop it?” He froze.
They both glanced up at the sound of an approaching helicopter. Another flight. More injured kids.
“I do the best I can for each one, Glory, whether you think that or not.”
“I know you do,” she admitted.
“Even if Bennie had the procedure, there’s no guarantee it would make him whole again. And there is the risk that he would be worse off than he is now. Remember the oath—first do no harm. I will not endanger his life on a chance. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
He reached out, brushed a strand of hair from her eyes then hurried away, to Agapé to treat the new cases.
A week later Jared listened to the phone just long enough to ensure he would get the answer he wanted.
“It will be expensive,” the voice assured him.
“I don’t care what it costs. I’ll pay. Get them here as soon as you can.”
He hung up with relief. Kahlia had done her best, but now Sister Phil needed more than someone to sit with her. She needed round-the-clock nursing care and she refused to go to the hospital, away from the place she’d called home for so long. Daily her lungs weakened—which reminded him.
He typed an e-mail and sent it immediately to Elizabeth. He wasn’t going to downplay the urgency of Sister Phil’s condition.
He checked his messages, caught his breath at the first one.
Preliminary hearing on February 14.
Tomorrow. Nicholas’s birthday.
The screen saver came on. His son’s laughing face framed by a red heart fluttered into view. A familiar pain knifed its way through Jared’s insides.
He should have replaced the image long ago, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to erase the picture, take the final irrevocable step of removing this last secret reminder of what he’d lost. He’d come to terms with the fact that he’d never watch his son grow up, drive a car, date a girl. He’d accepted that Diana was gone, that he was alone.
What he couldn’t accept was the reason behind their deaths.
Why? That’s all I want to know—why did they have to die like that?
From days long ago in a Sunday-school class he couldn’t even remember, a memory verse flashed to mind. “My ways are not your ways.”
“No kidding.”
“Talking to yourself?” Glory’s head appeared.
“Yes, I am.” He sloughed off the misery, forced himself out of his funk. “And no, I don’t like my own answers.”
“Okay, then.” Glory leaned against the jamb. “You look like you could use a hug.”
He found the prospect especially attractive.
