Dawn of a New Day

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Jake tells a story about a man that loved his dog so much he hated to hurt him. The tail had to come off, so the first day he cut off an inch of it, the next day another inch. He cut off an inch at a time until the tail was gone.”

  “Well, that’s awful!” Prue said, and then she laughed ruefully. “I see what you mean. It would be better just to make a clean break.”

  “If you don’t love him, that’s what you should do. You’re not doing him any favors, Prue, by dragging the thing out.”

  Prue stayed until Jake came in, then went home but did not go to bed. She walked the floor thinking of Mark, of Kent, of herself, and finally said bitterly, “I’m going to write a book sometime about how to dump an unwanted lover.”

  At last she went to bed and had barely drifted off into a sleep when the phone rang.

  Groping for the phone, she picked it up and said, “Hello?”

  “Prue?”

  “Who is this? Is it you, Mother?”

  “Yes. I have bad news.”

  Instantly she thought of Mark and could not breathe or speak for a moment. Finally she controlled herself and said, “What is it?”

  “It’s Logan—he passed away to be with the Lord this afternoon at two o’clock.”

  A great emptiness spread through Prudence Deforge. She had loved her grandfather, and now the thought that she would never see him again on this earth seemed unbearable. She spoke to her mother for a while about the arrangements, then hung up the phone. Knowing she would not go back to sleep again, she went over to stand by the window and looked down on the neighborhood below. She prayed for a long time, and as she prayed a peace seemed to come to her. She had no direct word, but somehow she knew that her grandfather’s death was tied to the salvation of Mark Stevens.

  20

  PRUE TAKES OVER

  April passed, bringing with it the warm, clear, sunny skies of May. Mark spent hours walking in the warm sunshine until he learned every walkway in the vicinity of the hospital. He hated to stay inside. The television was a deadly bore—even worse because he could not see it. The comedy shows he had once thought at least mildly amusing now seemed stupid and vulgar, and the obvious laugh tracks that blasted from the set drove him from the recreation room.

  The time got even harder when Oscar Tatum said one afternoon, “I’ll be leaving you tomorrow, Mark.”

  The words jolted Mark. Although he had been surly with his fellow marine, he had grown deeply fond of him. He knew Oscar wanted to help, but since no one could give him his sight back, he had been short with him. Mark finally said, “I hate to see you go.”

  “Well, when you get back to Arkansas, I’ll be in Mississippi. They butt up against each other, you know.” Oscar came and put his huge hand on Mark’s shoulder and squeezed it almost fiercely. “I’m leavin’ my phone number with you, and you get in touch as soon as you get back home. You hear me?”

  Oscar’s departure left a vacuum in Mark’s life. The other patients seemed occupied with their own problems for the most part, and to those who did try to make conversation, Mark found he could not respond.

  Prue came daily, and Mark would walk with her, listening as she spoke. She brought him cassette tapes and a machine to play them on, which was his biggest consolation. He was sick of the Beatles, and Elvis, and the whole rock scene, and the radio either offered that or country western music, which he did not like. It reminded him of Oscar, and despite himself, when the country western music came on, he thought of the gentle giant who had offered friendship—which he had turned down.

  Doctor Pennington gave up all pretense of being able to help Mark, and at one appointment said bluntly, “There’s nothing wrong with you physically. I’ve told you that all along, Mark.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! Seeing is a physical thing, isn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, but in your case there’s no reason physically, scientifically, why you can’t see. Something’s blocking your sight all right, but it’s something in your heart.”

  The words had jolted Mark, although he had not responded to Pennington. Something in your heart. The words echoed in his mind day after day, and during the long nights when he lay awake listening to his tape player with an ear microphone so he would not disturb his new roommate—a silent man named Jack Mackenzie who did not say a dozen words a day—he thought of them again. Something in your heart—something in your heart.

  As the days passed, he did not improve in his ability to perform even the simplest functions. The physical therapist, an ex-medical student before he joined the Corps, said in disgust, “You haven’t ever accepted the fact that you can’t see, Stevens! That’s the reason you don’t learn to do things better!”

  Mark could not argue, for deep down he knew that the therapist was right. He could not bring himself to face up to the fact that he would never be able to see again. Somehow, despite the hardness that had come upon him, he nurtured a hope that one day his sight would return. He clung to this hope as a man in a lifeboat out on an endless sea hopes for the sight of a ship, or an airplane, anything to bring relief.

  And so the days and nights passed. Sometimes he thought that all was hopeless and he wanted to end it all, but that was no answer. When his family came, or Prue, he sat silently as they talked. Once his father urged him to come home, and he had said bitterly, “What am I good for?”

  “Hey, man! It’s me, Bobby!”

  Mark pulled the earphone from his ear and had to smile. “It couldn’t be anybody else. Come in and sit down.”

  Bobby Stuart shut the door and slumped across the room, dropping down on the bed where Mark was sitting up listening to his tape player. “How you doin’?”

  “Great.”

  “Yea,” Bobby said. “Yea, I bet. I should have been here before, but you know me. I never do what I’m supposed to do.”

  “You’re not in jail. That’s good news.”

  “I will be if that judge has her way,” Bobby said. “You know what they done to me, don’t you?”

  “Prue gave me a blow-by-blow description. If you make a single misstep, you’re in jail.”

  Bobby snorted and moved his hand across his face. There was a nervousness to his manner that Mark could sense although he could not see. “That’s right, man. That’s right,” Bobby said, his voice in a shrill staccato. “Man, I’m afraid to spit in the street anymore! You know what she’s got me doin’ for community service?”

  “What, Bobby?”

  “Pickin’ up trash down on the east side. Can you dig that? Bobby Stuart pickin’ up trash!” He got up and walked nervously around the room, speaking rapidly. “They got somebody watchin’ me all the time. You know what it’s like down there. There’s dope everywhere. Why, I’ve been offered everything from a joint to heroin, and I think some of the Feds may have put somebody up to it. They want to put me behind bars. Make an example of me, you know?”

  “Stop pacing around. Sit down and take a load off your feet.” Mark waited until he heard Bobby collapse into the chair next to the wall, and said, “It’s pretty bad. Worse for you because you had more to lose.”

  Bobby blinked and said, “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean you had it all, Bobby. Money, cars, fame. Everybody wanting to meet you. Pretty hard to lose all that.”

  Bobby again moved his hand across his face. It was as if he was trying to brush cobwebs away, and he leaned forward and said, “I’m off dope, and it’s about to kill me! I don’t even smoke cigarettes anymore. They’d find out, and when they did they’d put me in jail. I couldn’t stand that, Mark.”

  Mark sensed the tension in Bobby and asked, “Do you perform any?”

  “Perform? Man, I can’t even whistle in the shower! It’s all gone!”

  “I can’t believe that.”

  “You better believe it, man. I don’t know whether it’s because I quit cold turkey and I got the shakes all the time, or because that female judge wants to see me back in jail. I don’t know what
it is. I know I’m losin’ my mind. Sometimes I wake up and don’t care what happens to me.”

  “I know what that’s like.”

  Instantly Bobby shot a glance toward Mark, who was sitting quietly on the bed dressed in fatigues. “Hey,” Bobby said, as he reached over and tapped Mark’s shoulder. “Here I come with all my troubles, and you got the real problems. I can’t believe it. You can’t see nothin’?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Aw, they got ways of helpin’ people in hospitals. Why, I’d give a million dollars, I guess, to hospitals. It looks like they could do something!”

  “I don’t think they can. They’d like it if they could, but so far zero.” Mark swung his feet over the bed and said, “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” He picked up his cane and the two men left the hospital.

  They walked for over two hours, Bobby talking in a spasmodic fashion. Once they sat down on a bench, but after ten minutes he said, “Come on. Let’s walk. I’m losin’ my mind.”

  “Sit down, Bobby. You have to learn to live with this. Just like I have to learn to live with what I’ve got.”

  “Look,” Bobby said, “I know it’s bad for you. A thousand times worse than it is for me. You got yours in an honorable way. All I’ve ever done—” He halted and slumped on the bench. He said nothing for a long time, and Mark simply waited.

  Finally Bobby said, “Well, some visitor I make. I come out to cheer you up and don’t do anything but cry in my beer—wait a minute. Not real beer in case I’m bein’ bugged. That’s how bad off I am, but I don’t want to bother you anymore.”

  “Come on back to my room. We’ll talk some more. Maybe play some tapes. Do you have to be anywhere?”

  “Not today. Tomorrow I’ve got to be pickin’ up gum wrappers.”

  The two men went back to Mark’s room. Word got out that Bobby Stuart was in the hospital, and soon men started finding excuses to come by and visit.

  Bobby whispered, “Get ’em out of here, Mark. I just don’t feel like talkin’ to anybody.”

  Mark said, “All right, fellas. A little privacy, if you don’t mind.” He waited until the room was cleared, and then went to sit down, but had no more got there when he heard a knock on the door and Prue’s voice saying, “Mark?”

  “Come in, Prue.”

  As Prue stepped inside, Bobby rose up and tried to grin at her. “Hi, Miss Prudence,” he said. “Good to see you. You’re lookin’ great.”

  Prue came over and looked at Bobby, whose eyes had dark circles under them. “You look terrible, Bobby,” she said.

  “This is my good day. You ought to see me when I really look bad.”

  Prue shook her head, reached up, and laid her hand on Bobby’s cheek in a maternal gesture. She seemed cool and collected, but there was an excitement in her that both men sensed.

  “What’s going on, Prue?” Mark said. He was still standing and had turned to face her, turning his head slightly to one side to catch her words.

  “I came over to talk to you.”

  “I’ll just fade on out,” Bobby said, but as he turned to go Prue’s voice stopped him.

  “No, Bobby. Now that you’re here, I think it might be good for you to stay too.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Bobby asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  “I’m sure,” Prue said. “Sit down. I’ve got something to say that may take me a while.”

  Bobby grinned suddenly. He was thirty-five now, but he still had his boyish grin. “Don’t tell me you have bad news,” he mocked. “Why, I haven’t had anything but good news for so long I don’t know how I’d take it.” Nevertheless, he went over, plopped himself down in a chair, and waited. Mark sat down on the bed, saying nothing.

  “I’ve just come back from Logan’s funeral,” she said gently.

  Mark dropped his head. “I guess I should have gone with you to give you some support. But I couldn’t, Prue. I just couldn’t.”

  “I should have gone too,” Bobby said. “After all, he was my relation.” He stared at her, his mouth pulled down into a mournful expression. “I don’t very often do the things I’m supposed to do. How was the funeral?”

  Prue stood before the two men and related the circumstances of her grandfather’s funeral. It had been, she told them, the biggest funeral they had had in Strong County in years. “I never knew Logan had so many friends. The church was packed, and it could have been filled three times, I think. Finally the pastor simply went outside and held the funeral in the open from the church steps. It was a wonderful sermon he preached, about how much Logan served the Lord Jesus Christ all of his life.”

  “Were all the family there?” Bobby asked quietly.

  “Most of them. Lenora couldn’t come. She had the flu, and Lylah really shouldn’t have. She’s not well these days, but she came anyway. Your folks were there, of course.”

  She hesitated, then said, “I think of Logan so often. He was such a good man.”

  Bobby listened as she spoke for a while about the family, then he said again, “I should have gone.”

  Prue hesitated only for a moment, then said, “I talked a lot to Richard. He was there when Logan died, and you know he talked about you two a lot.”

  “About me?” Bobby said, opening his eyes wide with astonishment.

  “Yes, about you. He thought a lot of you, Bobby, and of course, Mark, you were just like a grandson to him.”

  “What did he say?” Mark demanded.

  “He was afraid for you. Both of you.”

  “Well, I guess he had reason to be,” Bobby said. “Is that all he said about us?”

  “He said,” Prue spoke very quietly, “that you ought to get away from here. That’s what Richard told me. Just before he died he said Logan had prayed for both of you, and he was afraid that the life would get you here.”

  “He’s right about me. It’s got me pretty fair already,” Bobby muttered. “But where would I go?”

  Prue took a deep breath and said, “To the Ozarks. Both of you.”

  Mark lifted his head with shock. “Back to the Ozarks? No, I won’t do it.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bobby said. “What would we do there?”

  “Get away from everything that’s here,” Prue said. “You don’t know, Bobby, but you remember, Mark, how quiet it is there.”

  “It’s quiet in this hospital,” Mark said stubbornly.

  “That’s not the same thing.” Her voice grew suddenly tense, and she said, “You’ve sat here feeling sorry for yourself long enough. Richard said Logan prayed for you and told him that God had given him a promise. That he was going to work on your life, and you too, Bobby. And he told Richard that the two of you ought to come to the hills, for a while anyway.”

  “Well, that lets me out. I couldn’t go anyway,” Bobby muttered. “That judge wouldn’t let me go for a million dollars.”

  “I’ll see the judge, and I’ll have Jake Taylor go see her. They’re pretty good friends, you know. You’ll have to do some sort of community work there, but I think you ought to go.”

  Mark sat still on the bed, thinking over what Prue had said. “How would we get there, and where would we stay?” he asked finally.

  “I’ve got it all planned,” Prue said eagerly. She had expected Mark to lash out at her, but now she saw that he was bending. “I’ll get three one-way tickets to Fort Smith. We’ll get on a bus there, or rent a car, and we’ll go to Logan’s house. It’s empty now. We’ll stay there, and we’ll wait until the Lord does something.”

  For a moment bitterness rose up in Mark, and he wanted to lash out at Prue, asking why God had let him go blind, but the silence grew in the room and he was aware that the other two were looking at him.

  Finally Bobby said rather timidly, “I’ll go if you will, Mark.”

  Prue went over and put her hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Please come, Mark. Just try it. You remember how quiet it is there. We can go walking down by the river, and you’ll have time to think.”
>
  The silence seemed to swell in the room. Bobby’s eyes met Prue’s, and both knew that Mark was engaged in some deep inner struggle.

  Oh, God, Prue prayed silently, don’t let him turn me down! This is his last chance!

  Abruptly Mark stood, took a deep breath, and shook his head as if he were coming out of deep water. “All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll go. I don’t think it will do any good, but I’ll go.”

  Prue kissed him, then twirled and ran to Bobby, throwing her arms around him. “You stay right here. I’ll go get Jake, and we’ll go to the judge, and I’ll get three tickets. We’re on our way home!”

  21

  BACK HOME

  As the airplane landed, Mark found himself tensed up and turned to whisper to Prue, “Let’s wait until everybody else gets off.”

  “Of course, Mark,” Prue answered. She knew at once that he hated going through anything unusual and different, and she squeezed his arm as they waited for the passengers to disembark.

  “All right. I think we can go now,” she said. She rose and waited until Mark, who had been sitting by the window, moved out, and nodded toward Bobby, who fell in behind Mark as Prue led the way.

  “Thank you for flying Delta,” the stewardess said with a smile as they left.

  The steps leading down from the plane were steep, and Prue wanted to say, “Be careful,” but she knew that Mark would resent it. She slowed down so that he bumped into her, and she said, “I’m always afraid of these steps. They’re so high.” She moved slowly, glancing back to see Bobby following Mark, ready to lend a hand if necessary.

  As the three arrived on the ground, Bobby said, “Come on. Let’s get us a van.”

  “You don’t want a car?” Prue asked with surprise.

  “No. Let’s get a van. More room to move around in. Besides, I’m a little bit tired of cars.”

  Mark found himself wedged in between the two, and it was Prue who said, “You two wait here. I’ll go rent the van.” The two of them waited in the small waiting room of the Fort Smith Airport, and she came back soon. “They’ve got a Ford Econoline. Is that all right, Bobby?”