When Mercy came back in, she wore the blue scrubs and had combed the tangles out of her hair. She still looked pale and very tired.
“Thanks, Lukas. I feel a lot better.”
“You don’t look any better. You need some sleep.”
“No wonder you don’t date much.” She sat down on the cot and watched Tedi’s breathing for several moments in silence.
Lukas leaned against the next bed and observed the silence with her.
“I made a fool of myself tonight,” she said at last. “I upset Tedi and I showed my weakness to Theo.”
Lukas grinned at her. “Like a mama tiger. You should have seen Claudia. If I hadn’t made her stay with Tedi, she’d have come in there and ripped into Mr. Zimmerman herself.” He chuckled at the memory.
Mercy shot him a glance and a wan smile, then patted the other end of the cot.
He sat.
“What did you overhear?” she asked.
“Everything. You know there’s no soundproofing in that E.R., and you didn’t even shut the door. Tedi was the only one in, so…” He shrugged.
“There was no noise to cover it.”
“That’s right. So if we didn’t already know what a nasty character your ex-husband is, we do now. I don’t think it came as a great shock to anyone.”
“Sometimes I hate living in a small town.”
“Why? Because everybody knows everybody else’s business? At least someone cares.”
She shook her head. “They don’t care here any more than they do in a big city. They just have less to keep them occupied, so they occupy themselves in the lives of others.” She paused, glanced toward the nurse, and lowered her voice. “I have to make sure I don’t take a vacation or medical conference break at the same time a male doc does in this town.”
Lukas knew what she meant. “Gossip.”
“You bet. I had my name linked to a very respectable, very married physician in the hospital just because I took off at the same time he did for a conference last year.”
“How frustrating. Did it cause much trouble?”
“I didn’t give it a chance. I threatened to recommend dismissal for a tech who couldn’t keep her mouth shut or her mind out of the gutter, and then I warned the wife about it.” She grimaced. “I found it extremely insulting and distasteful.”
“Yes, you would. I know the feeling.”
Mercy glanced at him. “You, too?”
“I was amazed at the rumors that circulated about women I supposedly dated or had secret affairs with, especially when it involved women I’d never even met.” He glanced at her. “Some people in KC still think I’m a father, even though blood tests proved the child was not mine. The mother was a nurse I worked with when I started my residency, and for some crazy reason she decided I was going to be the one true love of her life. She was very insistent, and unfortunately, she was the daughter of the director of internal medicine. When I didn’t see things her way, she complained to her dad and to my trainer about me. She said she thought I was manic depressive and accused me of sexual harassment.”
“You don’t seem bipolar to me.”
“I was going through the grief process at the time, but no, I’m not bipolar. This nurse insisted that I was endangering the patients in my manic state. She even charted orders I never gave and had other docs questioning my judgment. They held a meeting and decided I was to be reviewed by a psychiatrist. I made the appointment, but then my trainer scheduled me to work that day and no one would cover for me, so I missed the appointment. I was fired soon after. When this nurse then turned up pregnant, she spread the word that I was the father and that I had seduced her.”
Mercy shook her head in amazement. “You? Surely nobody believed—I mean, you’re not…you know…the seducing kind.”
“The hospital used it against me later when I took them to court. And as far as I know, there has only been one Immaculate Conception in history.”
Mercy raised a brow at him. “I hope they realized you’re no philanderer.”
“I’m a normal, healthy male, who just happens to believe in purity before marriage and monogamy after.”
“You’re a Christian.” She made it sound almost like an accusation.
“Yes.”
“My mother’s a Christian,” she said. “She has been since my father died. She’s always preaching to me about things she’s read in the Bible, great ‘spiritual truths’ she’s suddenly discovered. She doesn’t push me too much, but I can tell I frustrate her at times because of my beliefs.”
“What do you believe?”
She shot him a warning glance. “Don’t you start, too.”
“I’m not. I’m just asking what you believe.”
“I’m not sure you would call it belief. Maybe you’d call it lack of belief.” She glanced over at her sleeping daughter and shook her head. “I have trouble believing in a so-called loving God who would allow so many painful things to happen in my life and my daughter’s.”
“That’s perfectly understandable. I felt that way after I watched my mother die of cancer, and I’ve been a Christian since I was ten years old. I argued with God about why she had to suffer. She was a great lady who helped half the people in town in some way or another over the years. It’s hard to watch your loved ones hurting.”
“Who won the argument you had with God?” Mercy asked.
“Well, it turned into something besides an argument. It turned into an intense conversation that involved several kinds of communication and several people.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear my ‘great spiritual truths’ any more than you want to hear your mother’s.”
“I’ll humor you just this once. What kinds of conversation?”
“It was a gradual thing. It took place over the months of grieving after Mom’s death. As I searched the Scriptures and prayed, and continued to lay blame at God’s door, I became aware of His loving patience with me—not only in the Bible verses He led me to read, but in the fellow believers in my church who continued to love and support me emotionally, even though I wasn’t always very nice or faithful in attendance. God works through His people, and He shows His love, as well, through His people. I remember one elderly lady in my parents’ church who came to talk to me one day when I was home visiting. I came straight out and asked her why a loving God would allow so much suffering.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked if I would have preferred a dictatorship.”
“Yes, yes, I’ve heard all about that from Mom,” Mercy said. “Adam and Eve were given a free will and chose to sin. And now we’re paying for their sin.”
“No, we’re paying for our own sin and just plain sin in general. Everyone but Christ has chosen sin from the beginning of time.”
“So tell me, what do you call sin?”
“Do you want my own personal interpretation?”
“Yes.”
“It’s anything that shows lack of love for God or for my fellow man.”
She raised a brow. “That’s it?”
“To me, it’s reasonable. All the laws are based on two rules, which are to love God with all your heart, soul, strength and mind, and to love your neighbor as yourself. If you do these two things, you’ll never break any other of God’s laws.”
“So since we’ve broken these laws,” Mercy said, “God’s going to make us pay. He punishes us. We either love God or else.” Bitterness laced her voice.
“I’ve felt that way before, too, especially when I thought I was being punished by Him for some reason. I’ve gradually come to the conclusion that love is an active thing, much the same as faith. You act on the basis of love and faith and don’t worry about forcing the emotions to follow. God handles that part. And God doesn’t punish for the sake of wreaking harm on us, but instead, He disciplines us for the sake of lovingly guiding us in His direction. He will do whatever it takes to teach us what He wants us to know.”
“Even when it means
suffering at the hands of an evil man?”
“I have to remind myself often that suffering was not in God’s original plan,” Lukas said. “Human beings were the ones who allowed sin into the world, and that is the cause of suffering. It doesn’t seem fair, but as my father pointed out to me not long after Mom’s death, we should look for God in the one who’s hurting, not in the cause of pain itself. Because of our choices we separate ourselves from God’s protection. I know God was there with Mom during her pain, even though she got cranky at times. During her lucid moments, near the end, I saw her become more and more eager for heaven. I think Mom learned something through her pain on earth that is now serving her in heaven.”
Mercy watched his expression carefully. “You really believe that?”
“Yes, I do. Do you think I’m crazy?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I think I’d like to believe it myself. But what about my grandmother? Mom believed she wasn’t a Christian. If you don’t believe she went to heaven, do you think she’s in hell?”
“Do you know for sure she was not a Christian?”
“Mom’s pretty sure. That’s why she didn’t want Grandma’s heart to stop. She wanted her to have another chance.”
Lukas leaned forward. “Mercy, before your grandmother died, she spoke to me and told me to let her go, that she was ready. Only God can know for sure, but I had the impression she was at peace, just like Mom was when she died.”
Mercy’s eyes filled again with tears. “But you can’t know for sure.”
“As I said, only God can know for sure. I’m still learning to trust God during the times I have doubts, and I still fail, but God has proven that He has our ultimate good as a goal. Otherwise, there would have been no Christ, no death, no Resurrection.”
Mercy glanced at Lukas. “You know, you seem to be a very honest person, especially with yourself. It’s an admirable quality.” She shook her head. “Thanks for telling me about your experience in Kansas City. I hate what they did to you. I hate politics.” She sat in silence for a while, then looked back at Lukas. “Do you know why Theodore has custody of Tedi?”
“You were hospitalized for depression, and he used it against you in court.”
Her eyes widened. “See what I mean about small towns?”
“Where were you hospitalized?”
“Lakeland in Springfield. My father had just died of alcoholic cirrhosis, and Theodore and I were going through a nasty divorce at the time.” Mercy leaned forward to check Tedi, then sat back. “Another woman.” She glanced at Lukas to judge his reaction, hesitated, then continued. “I wasn’t just hospitalized for depression, I was forcibly committed for attempted suicide—which was a setup.” She kept watching Lukas.
He held her gaze. He’d heard most of this—after all, as she’d said, the gossip mill was alive and well in Knolls. He’d like to hear the truth from her.
“I was depressed,” she said.
“Who wouldn’t be? You were going through a horrible experience.”
“I suppose you overheard Theo’s announcement about one of the beatings I received from my father. I had never come to terms with that. Also, Theo had run up some whopping bills during our marriage, and I was working all the shifts I could in E.R. so I could pay them off. When I caught Theo with the other woman—she dumped him after the divorce—I guess you could say I got a little depressed.”
“Amazing that you would have such a reaction,” Lukas said drily.
“But I didn’t attempt suicide. What I did do was take a couple of extra Valium just to kill some of the pain. Unfortunately, in my drugged state I decided I needed help for depression and went to see the wrong doctor at the wrong time. He was a friend of Theo’s.” She spread her hands, as if the rest was obvious. “It was a divorce-court tactic. That doctor is out of practice now—he lost his license two years later for unprofessional conduct with a female patient. That’s the kind of people Theo makes friends with. Unfortunately, there are a lot of corrupt people like that in the world, and they haven’t all had their hands slapped yet for their corruption.” She looked down at the comb in her hand, then raised her eyes to meet Lukas’s gaze. “Thanks for getting all this stuff together for me. The comb, the bed, the scrubs—I appreciate it.”
“Hey, it was my pleasure.”
Mercy smiled. “Sorry if I sound as if I’m wallowing in self-pity. I guess I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“I already know the truth. You’re the kind of physician who was willing to answer a disaster code when no one else cared, and you spent your own money—which you probably couldn’t afford—to help people in need.”
She leaned back, as if to get a better look at him in the dim light. “Wow. Do you speak at motivational seminars?”
“I just tell it like I see it.”
“I’ve been called a man-hater.”
He reached up and felt the stubby growth of hair on his face. “I’ve always considered myself a man. You’ve never been hateful with me.”
“You’re…different.”
“Would you have gone to so much trouble to treat Clarence Knight if you truly hated men?”
She seemed to think about it a moment. “I like Darlene. I admire them both because they want so badly not to be a burden on society.”
“I don’t think anyone likes the injustice you’ve experienced at the hands of Theodore Zimmerman. Anyone would be distrustful of men if he were a typical example. I hope he isn’t.”
“Would you think I was horrible if I told you I enjoyed socking him in the mouth tonight?”
“Only if you would blame me for wanting to do the same.”
She grimaced. “I’ll pay for that moment of glory, though.”
“Do you think he’ll file charges?”
“And cut off his gravy train? No way. Why else do you think he’s keeping Tedi?”
“Maybe that’s why he treats you so badly.”
Mercy frowned, and Lukas continued. “Male pride. Have you always been the main provider?”
Her frown deepened. “All except for the first couple of years of the marriage.”
“I realize this sounds archaic, but I believe most men still feel as if they should be able to support their families.”
He cleared his throat. “The remark you made to him about your insurance covering Tedi’s expenses made him angry, I could tell. If he feels dependent on you, he’ll take it out on you, and maybe even Tedi.”
Tedi stirred, as if in response to the sound of her name. Mercy stood and leaned over her daughter. “Okay, honey?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Tedi said hoarsely. She raised her head and looked around the room, her dark eyes apprehensive. “Is Dad here?”
“No.”
Tedi relaxed and lay back.
Mercy reached down and brushed a tendril of long, dark hair back from her daughter’s face. Lukas marveled at how much alike the two looked. Tedi’s eyes even held the same wary sadness in them as Mercy’s did.
“Tedi,” Mercy said softly. “Do you want to talk about why you were in that barn?”
Tedi lay there for a moment without replying, almost as if she hadn’t heard the question. Then she said, “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Mercy touched her daughter’s face. “You mean you’re afraid to?”
Tedi didn’t reply.
Mercy’s face tightened. She glanced at Lukas, then back at Tedi. “Are you afraid of your father?”
Tedi’s eyes filled with tears. She nodded slowly. “You can’t say anything to him, Mom. Please. I don’t want you to go back to the hospital, and I don’t want to have to stop seeing you.”
“Is that why you didn’t want me to try to get custody?”
Again Tedi hesitated, then nodded.
Mercy touched Tedi’s shoulder. “The bruises, honey. Did your dad do that?”
Tedi’s face contorted with more tears. “Please don’t ask me, Mom.”
Lukas saw Mercy’s fist cl
ench, but her voice remained gentle as she spoke to her daughter. “Are you afraid he’ll do something like this again?”
No answer.
“I can’t let that happen, honey.”
“Don’t say anything, Mom. Please. He only gets mean when he’s drinking and…sometimes I get mad and sass him. Then I’m scared.”
“Did you sass him tonight?”
“No, but Julie…she told him something I said.”
“Which was…?”
“That you supported us.”
Mercy closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then glanced meaningfully at Lukas. “That’s my fault, Tedi. You’ve heard that from me. I’m sorry.” Her face puckered again, as if she might cry.
“It’s not your fault, Mom.” Tedi’s voice was indignant. “They fought about it, and I knew I had to leave until Dad got sobered up. I fell asleep in the barn, and then I woke up in the dark, and the bee stung me, and I got really scared and started to cry, and I swelled up and—”
“Shh.” Mercy’s hand shook as she stroked her daughter’s hair. “You’re okay now. You’re here with me, safe in the hospital.” Her voice had lost some of its calmness.
“Mom, please don’t tell Dad I told you. He got mad when that counselor guy, Nick, told him I wanted to live with you.”
Mercy grew still. “The counselor told him?”
“Yes. That was why I called you and told you not to take Dad to court.”
Mercy was quiet for a moment. “Do you still want to come and live with me?”
“Mom, I can’t. Dad will ruin your practice and send you back to the hospital, and he won’t have anything to lose, because if I live with you—”
“He can’t ruin my practice, and he can’t send me back to the hospital.” Mercy’s voice shook now as badly as her hands.
Lukas reached out and touched her shoulder gently. She stiffened and glanced at him, then took a deep breath and let it out.
“Tedi, all that happened five years ago, and it was because an evil man lied about me. He can’t do that now. And your father can’t get my license revoked.”
Sacred Trust Page 27
