Rebecca's Return (The Adams County Trilogy 2)

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “I’m a cripple,” he whispered to himself, as he wept silently.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  As she approached the edge of West Union, Miriam let her horse take its time. The horse was fresh this morning, but there was no sense in tiring it needlessly. Plus no real sense of urgency gripped her. Yesterday’s rushed drive to the hospital with Rebecca, in response to the false news of John’s recovery, had left her feeling numb. She and Isaac had spent a quiet evening together, and she could only imagine what Rebecca had gone through.

  John had been unconscious and unresponsive now for what seemed like ages. Today was just another day, and this was just another trip to see her son. Not that she feared John would pass on, but rather she harbored a sense of foreboding about what life held for him.

  From what she knew of the doctor’s opinion, he seemed to feel there was hope ahead. Dr. Wine had cautioned them to wait and not draw conclusions until after John regained consciousness. They could then tell exactly how extensive the damage was.

  How that could be was a little mysterious to her. The doctor talked of possibilities and chances in medical terms, which were foreign to her. Broken bones and stitches could be easily understood, but how did one really know about damage to the brain? That the doctor, by his own admission, wasn’t sure, made his hopeful attitude seem like medical training.

  Isaac was trying to keep his spirits up. Miriam had seen him looking out of the living room window last night after the sun had set. His gaze wandered over their farm, over to Wheat Ridge Road, and to John’s eight acres just down the hill.

  Isaac must be thinking of all that could be lost if John’s condition was as bad as they feared. What if John was a cripple for life? What would happen to his plans, and what about Rebecca? Would she still love a cripple?

  Miriam had gone to Isaac’s side, while he was standing by the window, the last of the daylight fading away, the little snow drifts still piled up by the barn. “Are you thinking bad thoughts?” she asked tenderly. “You thinking the way will be dark ahead of us?”

  “He’s our only son,” Isaac had said. “He’s a good boy. Always has been.”

  “Are you thinking the Lord will take John?”

  “I would not tell the Almighty what to do,” he had said softly. “He knows what is best.”

  “What if John’s a cripple,” she said, hearing the sound of the words grow even larger till they filled the room, gripping both of them with their icy meaning.

  Isaac had said nothing for a long time. Miriam had thought he wasn’t going to answer. She felt the dread of her words grow even stronger until Isaac’s arm came around her shoulders.

  “We must not fear,” he said. “Where the Lord goes, we can follow.”

  “Is He with us?” she asked.

  “With those that obey Him,” he said firmly. “We must not doubt. Even after this morning, He knows the way.”

  She had let the tears fall against the solidness of his shoulder, his arm tightly around her. Miriam turned in the direction Isaac was looking, feeling comforted for the moment. Yet now she was wondering again what lay ahead and what John would be like when he regained consciousness.

  Slapping the horse’s reins, she suddenly felt an urge to hurry. Why she didn’t know, but she wanted to see John. He might still be lying in bed as unmoving as he had been for days, but he was her son, and she wanted to see him.

  In the hospital parking lot, she tied up at the now familiar light post. At the front desk, Mrs. Madison was rifling though a file folder.

  “Good morning,” Miriam said, intending to walk on toward John’s room.

  “Oh, Mrs. Miller!” Mrs. Madison said, glancing up. “Dr. Wine wants to see you.”

  Miriam paused, fear moving through her.

  “Something wrong?” she asked. “Is John worse?”

  Mrs. Madison seemed reluctant to say anything. “I think the doctor would rather tell you.”

  “Oh…dear…but I thought he was out of danger.”

  “No,” Mrs. Madison said. “I didn’t mean that.” She took a long look at Miriam’s face and then said quickly, “Your son is awake, but the doctor wants to tell you.”

  “He’s awake?” Miriam’s joy evident. “He’s really awake?”

  “Yes, but you’d better talk to the doctor before going in.”

  “I’m going to see him,” she announced, already on the way. She didn’t care at the moment what doctors or nurses told her, she was going to see her son.

  Mrs. Madison watched her go, shrugging her shoulders. “Can’t say I blame her,” she said to no one in particular.

  Miriam opened the door to John’s room without pausing. John’s head turned in her direction, his eyes searching her face. She saw fear in them.

  “John,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, “you’ve come back to us. This is so good.”

  He said nothing, his eyes moist.

  She wanted to take him in her arms as she had when he was a baby. Wanted to brush his forehead with her hand, to tell him the hurt would go away, but the years stood between them. She knew with great clarity that even in John’s present condition he was no longer a child. Acting otherwise wouldn’t help matters.

  “Where’s Rebecca?” John asked, so low she had to lean over to catch the words.

  “She’s at home,” she said. “We didn’t know when you would regain consciousness. She will be real glad to hear this news.”

  “Will she be back?” he asked, still in a whisper.

  “Of course. When I let her know you’re awake. You don’t have to worry.”

  He said nothing, turning his face away from her, his eyes searching the ceiling.

  “She’s gone,” he half-whispered.

  Watching him, the thought occurred to her, Maybe John’s brain has been affected. Was brain damage not on the list of things the doctor was concerned about?

  “John, are you okay?” she asked, not certain what else to say, and yet realizing he was still far from okay.

  John still said nothing, his eyes silently on the ceiling.

  Certain now she was right, great waves of horror swept over her. She wished now she had listened to the nurse and talked to the doctor first. He would, no doubt, have prepared her for this, making the blow much easier than simply walking in and finding out on her own.

  Watching another silent tear run down John’s face, the situation could not have been any clearer. She and Isaac had prepared for the wrong thing. They had seen the possibility of a cripple in their home, sitting in a wheelchair, helpless and in need. What they had not prepared for was a mental disability—the wasted stare, the unreasoning demands, the wants that never seemed to be defined or satisfied.

  Surely it could not be, yet there it was, right in front of her eyes as plain as day. John was back, but what was back might well not be John but some shadow of himself. A shadow who was unresponsive and asking strange and gloomy questions.

  John now whispered something else, and she drew back, uncertain, resisting coming closer to be certain. And yet she must listen. This was still her son. Her hand went out to him, brushing his brow, the wetness of his perspiration moistening her hand.

  “You’ll be okay,” she told him. “We’ll take you home. You’ll be getting better now.”

  He whispered again, and she bent low this time. The words were formed even slower now. “She’s not coming back.”

  John’s brain was affected. It was now obvious to her. This was the blow the doctor and the nurse wished to soften. Isaac would be broken when she told him, and she dreaded the task. Yet Isaac would carry on, just as she must carry on, with courage and faith that God was able to help. This was the path He had chosen for them.

  “She’s gone,” John said, his lips moving.

  She laid her hand on his forehead again. There was no answer to such madness of the brain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Miriam told him. “Rebecca will be very glad to see you. You’d better rest now tho
ugh.”

  “I want to,” he managed, his voice a little stronger. “My head hurts.”

  “The doctor will be in to see you soon.”

  “I don’t want a doctor,” he insisted.

  “God help us,” Miriam prayed aloud. “You are a good God, even when the valley is deep. Help John now and help us too. Please.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Miriam was still praying when the door opened, admitting Dr. Wine.

  “I see you’re here already,” he said, his voice professional and to the point.

  As she turned from John to face the doctor, she registered the dull look in John’s eyes and felt a stab of pain, understanding what this meant. His mind had been lost. But she knew she must be strong until Isaac was here, and then she could find comfort in his arms.

  “I had wanted to talk to you first,” Dr. Wine said. “I guess the nurse didn’t mention that.”

  “She did,” Miriam said quickly. “I couldn’t wait. I’m his mother.”

  Dr. Wine seemed to relax his attitude at those words and turned to John. “So how are you feeling?”

  Miriam was astonished that the doctor would ask John to speak of his obviously brain-damaged condition.

  “Can’t move the right side,” he mouthed slowly. “This arm comes up a bit,” he added, lifting his left arm slightly.

  Miriam was at a loss to understand John’s present coherence, considering his condition moments earlier. Now Dr. Wine’s hands were testing points on John’s legs, pressing in as he waited for a response from John. A facial twitch seemed to communicate John’s response in most cases, she noticed, yet this made no sense at all to her.

  “What is wrong with him?” she finally asked, assuming that discussing the matter in front of John would be okay.

  “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I think John already knows,” he said, turning in her direction. “He has paralysis on one side, even though the subdural hematoma was declining in yesterday’s CT. We’ll check it today again, and if the swelling is decreasing even more—which I would guess it is—we might have more improvement soon.”

  Miriam glanced at John, then ventured the question, “His mind. Is it affected?”

  Dr. Wine seemed to ponder the question. “A little hazy I suppose. A little amnesia is even possible but no permanent damage.” He looked at John and grinned. “You gave your mother that idea?”

  “I don’t know,” John said, bringing his eyes over to his mother as if the effort cost him a lot.

  “He’s fine in that department,” Dr. Wine nodded. “Responds well.”

  “I just want to see Rebecca,” John said. “Can you tell her I’m awake?”

  “That’s a perfectly normal reaction, considering,” Dr. Wine said. “That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t expect the paralysis to be permanent, but we just don’t know. Under those circumstances, anything can happen to even established relationships. His girlfriend hasn’t been around to see him for a while.”

  “She was here last night with me,” Miriam said. “When we got the call—the false one. She’s very concerned about John.”

  “We should hope so,” Dr. Wine said briskly. “Yes…and about the call. Sorry about that. I guess the new receptionist didn’t check things well enough.”

  “Rebecca’s not coming back…is she?” John’s eyes were still on his mother’s face, his voice a little stronger.

  “Of course she is,” Miriam told him firmly.

  “I will have the nurse come in,” Dr. Wine’s voice broke in. “She can also tell you about any preparations you need to make once your son can go home.”

  Miriam nodded as Dr. Wine left the room. Relief that John was of sound mind was tempered by the knowledge that their original fears might still come true. That John doubted her opinion about Rebecca was not a surprise, considering his obvious distress, but he would get over it. It might be good, though, to have Rebecca come down as soon as possible, even before she took John home.

  The memory of Rebecca’s action yesterday strengthened her resolve.

  “She’s a good girl,” she said to John, as the door shut behind Dr. Wine. “You don’t have to worry.”

  John failed to answer, his left hand twitching.

  Letting her eyes move up and down John’s body, Miriam still wondered, Should John even continue with his plans to marry? How might he support his family? Will it be fair to his wife? What if they can never have children? Is it right to deprive a girl of even the possibility of little ones? It was all a little too much for her, but maybe Isaac would know the answers.

  “Can you tell Rebecca? Tell her to come right away?” John asked.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t push things,” she said, wishing Isaac were here. “I’m sure you still need rest. She’ll come.”

  “Would you have stayed on with Dad?” John asked. “If he had been…like this?” He still mouthed the words slowly but stronger than before. “In my condition?” he asked, his eyes on her face.

  “Yes,” she said because it was true.

  “Is Rebecca like you?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

  “We’re all different,” she said truthfully.

  “Then she doesn’t love me?” The fear in his eyes was increasing.

  “Do you love her?” she asked him, searching desperately for the right words.

  “Of course,” he said, his lips dry again.

  She reached for the glass of water beside the bed, but he refused to drink.

  “Then you’ll be just fine,” she said, holding the glass in her hand. “Da Hah will help us all.”

  “I can’t lose her,” he whispered now, still refusing the water she held out to him. “I love her too much. Do you think it’s possible she’ll stick with me?” he asked, not looking at her.

  “I think she will.” She brought the glass closer to him, forcing him to notice.

  “You will tell her to come to me?” He ignored the water.

  “Take a sip,” she finally said.

  He complied but was waiting for her answer.

  “I will,” she told him. “I’ll go to her house on my way home and tell her.”

  “You can talk to her…prepare her?”

  “I think you should talk these things over with her,” she said. “But for now we need to concentrate on getting you home and getting you well again.”

  “I’ll never be well. I’m broken. I can’t feel all of myself,” John said, his eyes on the ceiling again. “The sunbeams are gone,” he spoke his sudden observation.

  “Sunbeams?”

  “There were sunbeams up there this morning.” His left hand came up slightly, motioning toward the ceiling. “They’re gone now.”

  Considering there might have been, she agreed with a nod.

  “They’re gone,” he said.

  “We need to get you home,” she repeated, wanting him out of here. Home was where her son needed to be, not in this hospital room with its drab walls and sunbeams playing on the ceiling. If she didn’t get him home soon, he might truly get touched on the brain.

  What he needed was an open window and the walls of his own room. He needed to be surrounded by the sounds of life on the farm, the smell of winter outside, the beat of horses’ hooves on pavement, and the love of his own family.

  “The nurse is coming now,” she said, hearing the click of the door behind her. “I’ll wait and see what the test results are. If they give the okay, I can be back this afternoon with a driver.”

  “Sounds like you’re making plans already,” Mrs. Madison said, her cheerful voice filling the room. “There are some papers at the front desk for you.”

  “Can he go home for sure then?” Miriam asked.

  “He needs to have another test. We’ll know more after the doctor looks at the results. I’m here to take him to the imaging room now.”

  “I’ll be here when you come back,” Miriam told John, as Mrs. Madison began to wheel his bed out of the room.
/>   He nodded as they left, his eyes still dull, searching the ceiling as he went.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Nearly an hour later, Miriam, sitting in the waiting room, glanced up from her magazine and noticed Mrs. Madison pushing John’s bed down the hall to his room. Rather than go to his room, she wanted to find Dr. Wine first to hear the test results and then discuss plans to move John home.

  When she didn’t see Dr. Wine anywhere, Miriam went to the familiar front desk. She ruled out following Mrs. Madison, who was still in John’s room. It would be better to speak with the doctor without John’s presence.

  “Can you locate Dr. Wine for me?” she asked the woman at the front desk. “My son just underwent a scan, and I was told he might be able to come home today, depending on the results of that scan.”

  “Dr. Wine said he would see you?”

  “Yes, after the scan.”

  “I’ll page him then,” the nurse said. “Would you like to wait in the waiting room?”

  Miriam took her seat and picked up the magazine, as she heard the nurse page Dr. Wine. When the minutes passed and no doctor appeared, she began to consider making another trip out to the front desk. Just then Dr. Wine stepped briskly into the room.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dr. Wine said. “Hectic morning.”

  Miriam nodded, then asked, “How is my son? Can I take him home?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “There is some change, but you must understand your son was very seriously injured. Although he’s making progress, he’s not ready to go home yet.”

  Miriam waited, expecting more.

  The doctor continued. “I’m comfortable with the difference between yesterday’s and today’s CT scan. I would have liked to see more, but it just wasn’t there. Perhaps he can go home tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” Miriam managed. “If you say so. I will speak with John and then return tomorrow.”

  “That would be best,” he agreed. Then he turned and walked briskly down the hall. Miriam turned in the direction of John’s room.