Beneath a Southern Sky

by Deborah Raney

  Daria ran from the room, shouting for help.

  A nurse appeared seemingly from nowhere and ran toward Daria. Another nurse came close behind her.

  While the women restrained Nate and administered oxygen, a third nurse came in with a syringe.

  “Mr. Camfield,” she shouted over the commotion, “I’m going to give you something to calm you down.”

  The injection took effect almost immediately, and he stopped thrashing. Though his eyes remained open, his breathing calmed and he relaxed visibly.

  Daria stood in the doorway, trembling violently, watching what seemed to be a scene from a horror movie.

  “He’ll be okay now,” the older of the nurses told her. “The sedative will make him very drowsy. He’ll probably sleep for a long time. It would be best if you’d come back tomorrow.”

  Daria nodded numbly.

  Totally drained of energy, she slipped from the room and went back down the corridor. She drew in a tremulous breath. Her mind could hardly grasp all that had just transpired.

  Guilt poured over her—a horrible sense that she was betraying Cole—as she realized that she wanted nothing more right then than to run back into Nate’s arms, to comfort him, to hold him tightly to her and rejoice that he was safe, that they had been reunited. To rejoice over the little daughter their love had created.

  She wanted to bury her face in her husband’s chest and cry for the years they had lost. Her husband? No! Nate wasn’t her husband anymore. He couldn’t be. Could he? But he was! She had never divorced him.

  She thought of Cole, pictured the utter devastation on his face when they had learned the news that Nate was alive. It was the same expression she had seen on Nate’s face moments ago. Nathan’s face became all tangled up with Cole’s in her mind, and she felt as if she were being physically ripped in two.

  Dear God, she loved them both! Why wouldn’t she? Who could expect anything else of her? The blood rushed to her temples, and she could hear her own heart pounding in her ears.

  She had to make some sense of the nightmare she was living. She had to find someplace where she could think and pray. She was afraid she would faint, but she kept walking, faster and faster until she was almost running.

  Breaking out through the front doors of the hospital, she gulped in the fresh air. She waited for her heart to steady its pace, waited for her head to clear, but instead confusion multiplied with every labored breath she took.

  She slid into her car. Gripping the wheel, she crept through the parking lot like an automaton, and pulled onto the highway.

  Twenty-Seven

  She drove in the rain without any sense of direction, simply following the cars in front of her, stopping where they stopped, turning where the road turned. When Daria recognized the exit for the residential area where Jack and Vera Camfield lived, she decided to go see them. But it struck her now that they had more than likely been at the hospital all this time. Unsure what else to do, she entered their subdivision and wound her way through the maze of tree-lined streets until she came to their stately home. She’d only been there once since returning to the States, to drop Natalie off for one of her weekend visits with her grandparents. It still surprised her sometimes to consider that Nathan had grown up with such wealth. He had been so different from his parents. No, she corrected herself, he is so different from his parents. She had spent the first few months after Nathan’s “death” correcting herself when she thought of him in the present tense, and now she was doing the same thing with thinking of him in the past tense.

  She pulled onto the wide drive and, wiping her perspiring hands on her slacks, got out of the car. The rain was still falling lightly as she walked up the front steps. She rang the doorbell and was rather surprised when Jack Camfield opened the door.

  “I’ve just come from the hospital,” she sputtered. “How could you, Jack? How could you not tell him?” She was only vaguely aware of Vera materializing behind him.

  “Hello, Daria! Jack, what are you thinking? Invite her in,” Vera scolded, her face bright with the joy of her son’s return. “Come in, please, Daria. We were just about to leave for the hospital. You’ve seen Nate then?”

  Daria remained on the porch, turning her accusations on Vera now. “Yes, Vera. I’ve seen him. Why didn’t you tell him about Cole?”

  “Oh, honey, we just thought it best not to go into all that yet. Nathan has been through so much. Once you all get settled and he’s gotten to know Natalie a little, then we can explain everything to him.”

  “Get settled?”

  “Jack and I thought you could all stay here until Nathan gets back on his feet,” Vera said.

  “What are you talking about, Vera? I’m married to Cole!”

  “Well, yes, technically. But Jack has consulted with his colleagues, and it sounds like the divorce will be a simple matter. Unless Cole would contest it, of course.”

  Daria stood with her mouth agape. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! How dare you think you could make this decision for me!”

  “Now, Daria, surely you can’t be considering anything but going back to the father of your child!” Vera’s tone had been condescending, but now her words held a threat. “After all you’ve put Nathan through, you owe it to him. And besides, Nate will fight to his dying breath for custody of his daughter. You know the courts would crucify you if you tried to fight him on this.”

  Jack stepped in with his futile mantra: “Now, Vera.” He turned to Daria. “Please, honey, we’ll iron all this out eventually, but for now, please don’t tell Nathan about Cole. The doctors say that he needs to remain as calm as possible. It’s going to take some time for him to acclimate to all the changes, to recover from everything he’s been through. He needs—”

  “Jack,” she shouted, “I’ve already told him! I had no idea you had kept it from him! I thought he knew!”

  Vera paled. “You didn’t tell him about the baby, did you?”

  Daria was incredulous. “No, Vera. I didn’t. It was hard enough telling him that I’m married to someone else.”

  “How could you, Daria?” This from Vera.

  Anger took over, and Daria began to tremble. “How could I? He wanted to kiss me, Vera! He was…treating me like any husband would treat a long-lost wife. I had to tell him. I had no choice!”

  Daria held her hands in front of her, palms out, a shield against her own fury. “I’m sorry. But I can’t believe you didn’t tell him! At least you should have told me that he didn’t know.”

  “How did he take it?” Vera asked, appearing somewhat chastened.

  “He took it very hard—understandably. They had to give him a sedative to calm him down.”

  Vera gasped. “Jack, we’ve got to get to the hospital! Our son needs us.” She disappeared into the house, and Jack followed, telling Daria over his shoulder, “We’ll work this out, Daria. Don’t worry. We’ll see you there?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he closed the front door in her face. She stood there in shock.

  She thought about what Jack had said about divorcing Cole. She wondered, Who is my husband in God’s eyes? What about the Scripture that said, “What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder”? She certainly believed that God had blessed—even ordained—her marriage to Nathan. Yet, if she were to go back to him, she would have to divorce Cole, and the Scriptures were clear on that topic, too. And didn’t she believe God had equally blessed her marriage to Cole? He had been an answer to prayer during the most difficult time in her life.

  Where was God in all this? He had known all along that Nathan was alive. Why had he allowed her to fall in love with Cole? Why had he allowed their marriage plans to proceed, knowing it would end this way? Dear God, how did this all get so complicated?

  And then it hit her like a punch in the stomach, leaving her breathless.

  She hadn’t asked for God’s direction when she married Cole. She hadn’t prayed for guidance. She had assumed that Cole was the answe
r to her sorrows, to her unspoken prayers for a father for Natalie, her prayers for someone to love. But she knew now that she had been wrong. Tragically wrong.

  Now broken, she stood under the portico of the Camfields’ house as the signposts of the past paraded through her mind. The letter from Evangeline Magrit that had convicted her so deeply. The trepidation she’d felt about dating Cole from the beginning. Even the dreams she’d had—dreams in which Nathan was alive and real. How many times had she ignored God’s portents? Finally she had simply turned her back on him and gone her own way, pretending all the while that the things that seemed good in her life were from God.

  She had become so wrapped up in her relationship with Cole, had been so relieved to find happiness with him, that she had not wanted to face the possibility that Cole might not be in God’s plan for her.

  And until now, it had worked. She and Cole had been happy. Cole was a wonderful man and a loving father to Natalie. And she did love him with a true, unselfish love. But theirs was a marriage God had not intended. She knew that now—now that it was too late.

  Now where did all this leave Natalie? Would this put her daughter in the middle of a huge custody battle? And what about the baby in her womb? It still galled her to think of the Camfields’ assumption that she would leave Cole as easily as she might toss out a pair of too-tight shoes. The Camfields knew that she was carrying Cole’s child. Why did they think that she would choose the father of one of her children over another?

  In anguish Daria realized how many people she had dragged into this devastating maelstrom by refusing to heed God’s gentle leading so many months ago. Would any of them survive the turbulence now?

  The garage door opened, and the Camfields’ car rolled down the drive and into the street, Jack and Vera’s eyes straight ahead. Daria forced herself to get in her own car. But she couldn’t follow them. She couldn’t face Nate just yet. Instead she sat numbly, bowed over the steering wheel. “Father, this is all my fault.”

  Those five simple words opened a floodgate, and Daria stood face to face with the truth of her own guilt. Sick at heart, she slumped in the seat and put her face in her hands. “Oh, Father,” she groaned, “what have I done? I’ve caused such sorrow for all the people I love the most. I didn’t mean to, Lord. But I-I should have listened to you. I went my own way and now—I’m so sorry. Please don’t let Nattie suffer for my stubbornness. Please, God, don’t let this cause any bitterness to grow in Cole’s heart or in Nate’s.”

  The tears came then. Great racking sobs that shook her body and drained her spirit. Finally she choked out the words, speaking them aloud in confession, “Forgive me, Father. And please show me where I belong now.”

  She poured her heart out to God and found solace in the release of tears. It was such a comfort to finally have the freedom to be honest before God. She felt cradled in his arms, wrapped in his mysterious peace, and enveloped in a love that was eager to forgive. Her task now was to put the past behind her and to simply follow God’s leading, day by day.

  She sat in the driveway crying out to God, mourning Nate, mourning Cole, as though she had lost them both to death. Finally she lay across the front seat of the car, spent, prostrate in her grief. When the murky haze of rain lifted and the afternoon sun peeked out only to sink quickly to the horizon, she sat up, straightened her clothes, and craned her neck to check her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she tried in vain to blot away the dark circles that ringed them. Then she fastened her seat belt and turned the key in the ignition. The engine came to life, and Daria carefully maneuvered the car onto the street and turned toward the hospital.

  Nathan stirred at the sound of his parents’ voices. His head felt swollen and heavy, and he struggled to open his eyes against the bright light that came from above him.

  “Nathan? Wake up, son.”

  “Dad?”

  “It’s me, Nate. Your mom’s here too.”

  “Hi, honey,” Vera said.

  “Mom? Where’s Daria?” Daria had been here earlier today, he was sure of it. Or was it days ago? The drugs had dulled his senses. But a heavy sorrow lingered, and it took him a minute to remember why he felt so sad. And then it all came back to him.

  “Where is Daria?” he demanded.

  “She’ll be here later, Nate.” His mother’s face came into focus.

  “Is she okay? Have you seen her?”

  “She’s fine. Everything is fine, Nate. Daria was at our house just awhile ago. She’s probably on her way to the hospital right now. And she’s going to bring Natalie to see you in a day or two, and you can get acquainted. The doctor says you can come home soon, maybe as early as tomorrow. Are you hungry?” Vera looked at him as she spoke.

  Nate shook his head. As much as he loved his mother, her voice grated on him now. He just wanted her to be quiet. If he wasn’t so lightheaded, and if he wasn’t tethered to the bed by all these poles and tubes, he’d get up and walk down the hall, get some fresh air. He wondered if he was sicker than he realized. Why did they have him on an IV and hooked up to this catheter? He would ask the doctor, first chance he got. He would ask them to get rid of all this unnecessary equipment and to stop sedating him. After all, he was a physician himself. He ought to have some say in his own treatment.

  In a remote part of his mind, he knew that he was fretting about these things to block out the news Daria had delivered. He could not face it yet. It was all he could do to grasp the fact that he had truly been rescued from the prison he’d been locked in for over two and a half years, that he had come home to discover he had a daughter. In all the fantasizing he’d done from his bamboo cell, he had never imagined that.

  But neither had he dreamed that Daria would find someone else.

  It was too much to fathom. Yet against his own will, he found himself wondering. How long had she been married? Did she love this man? Was he a good father? Jealousy threatened to consume him, but he forced himself to remember that Daria had believed him to be dead for years. Why wouldn’t she go on with her life? Especially when she had a baby to provide for.

  “Dad, I need to talk to Daria. Can you find her for me? Please? She told me that she’s… remarried. She was very upset—”

  “You are the one who should have been upset,” Vera interjected.

  “Mom, please—”

  “I’m sorry, Nathan, but this is so unfair.” She dissolved in tears.

  Nate turned to his father again. “Will you find her, Dad?”

  Jack glanced at his watch. “She was planning to follow us when we left the house about an hour ago. She should be here by now. Maybe she’s out in the hall.”

  He left, and Nate leaned back against the stiff pillow and closed his eyes. His mother’s manicured nails dug painfully into the tender, scarred flesh of his forearm. He didn’t have the heart to tell her she was hurting him.

  Daria entered the hospital for the second time that day. She knew she had to face Nate. She wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront the truth, to discuss the decisions that needed to be made, but she knew they had to talk.

  Starting down the corridor, her heart stopped when she saw a crowd gathered in the hallway and realized that the commotion was right outside Nathan’s room. Had something happened to him? She ran toward his room, her heart in her throat.

  The attention seemed to be focused on what was happening inside Nate’s room. Several nurses were shouting at the crowd, impotently waving their hands. Then a carefully coifed brunette in a tailored navy suit rushed to meet Daria.

  “Are you Daria Camfield?”

  “I-I’m Daria Hunter,” Daria began uncertainly. “How do you know my name? What’s happening? Is Nathan all right?”

  The knot of people all turned toward her, and only then did she see the cameras and microphones they wielded.

  “Mrs. Hunter, Mrs. Hunter,” they all shouted at once.

  She was confused at their presence and still wondering if something
terrible had happened to Nathan. “Let me through! Please,” she pleaded.

  “Mrs. Hunter, can you tell us what you plan to do now that your husband has been found alive?”

  “Will you go back to your first husband, Mrs. Hunter?”

  “Where is Mr. Hunter? Has he met Dr. Camfield?”

  They lobbed questions at her one after another, and suddenly she understood. The media had somehow gotten wind of their story and, if these people had their way, her face would be seen on every television in the state.

  Ignoring them, she ducked her head and plowed through the gauntlet of reporters and photographers and somehow got inside Nathan’s room.

  Twenty-Eight

  Cole rubbed the stubble of his unshaven cheeks with trembling hands. The two-day growth of whiskers made his own face feel foreign to him. He raked his hands through a head of grimy, disheveled hair and carried a bowl of corn flakes and a cup of coffee into the living room of Travis’s apartment.

  He plopped down at the cluttered desk that overlooked the driveway. In the distance a field of tender young wheat rippled in the April sun. The elm trees that lined the drive burgeoned with pale leaf buds, and the lawn was turning green with the recent rains.

  He wondered what Daria was doing at this moment. It was Monday, barely three days since their world had been turned upside down.

  Daria had left for Kansas City yesterday to see Nathan. Natalie was at the Haydons’, although yesterday Daria had offered to bring her to Travis’s to stay the night with Cole. He had declined, telling her that he’d just have to take her back to the Haydons when he went to work. It was an excuse. In truth, he didn’t know if he could bear seeing the little girl again if he was just going to lose her in the end. He had told Daria that he would never give Natalie up and yet, in reality, he was already withdrawing from her. He knew subconsciously that he was preparing himself for the possibility that he might lose her altogether.