by Chris Fabry
I always close my eyes when I pray, but that time I made an exception. I kept them open and watching for the truck. I had my window down to hear and it was good to be able to see again, even with the crack in Callie’s windshield.
Then, like the sun coming up on Easter morning, I saw the flash of headlights on the trees to our right, coming back toward me on the fork I had taken. I started the car and slammed it into drive and took off on the other fork, knowing Clay couldn’t have seen me with the lights off.
“Yes! Yes!” I said. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for your deliverance and your mercy.” I was all but whooping and hollering. You cannot know relief until you are in a place where your life is literally hanging in the balance and you finally have a glimmer of hope that everything is going to be okay. Relief is a flood I don’t mind going through.
23
I only stopped once, at an all-night truck stop to get enough gas to make it to Huntington. The car was on fumes when I coasted in, and I swore if I saw that truck pull in or pass us, I was going to call the police. But I never saw it and we went on our way to the emergency room. I suppose Clay gave up or he put another plan in place, but I imagined with as serious as he was about getting rid of Callie and me, he wasn’t too happy with us.
My station had been off the air for a while, but I wasn’t worried about anything but Callie. When you’re in that kind of situation, the stuff that’s important bubbles to the surface and your priorities change. That a few hill people couldn’t wake up to gospel bluegrass and Scripture reading took a backseat to getting help for someone I cared about.
Callie was still slumped in the seat, and I prayed God would help me get her to a hospital fast. I was just praying up a storm and the tears were falling, partly because we’d gotten away and partly because I knew she had more hurt inside her than any tests would ever reveal.
I drove up to Cabell Huntington’s emergency room entrance and told the orderly inside I had a friend in the car who didn’t have clothes. They brought out a wheelchair and a blanket and loaded her in. In the dull light of the early morning she looked pale, and her face was drawn from hunger and whatever drug she’d been given. She was beginning to come around, and all I could do was watch them wheel her back to a curtained-off place and then go give what little information I knew to the lady who needed it. I told her Callie was a government employee, so she had to have insurance, but I didn’t know much more than that. And I promised I would pay for anything she couldn’t cover. It was a promise I intended to keep, though I had no idea how I would do it.
As far as I’m concerned, nurses could run the world a lot better than doctors, lawyers, or politicians. Put them in charge of just about anything and it seems to get done. And fast. The nurse helping Callie went to work hooking her up and checking this and that, and then the doctor came swaggering in, looking at papers. I told him the short version of the story, and he nodded like he’d heard it before, but I don’t have any idea how you could have heard that kind of thing. Somebody must’ve phoned the police because they came a little later and asked questions and it seemed they didn’t believe me at first. That’s when I called Sheriff Preston and he got there lickety-split. Because he vouched for me, the local police backed off.
“Why didn’t you call me, Billy?” Sheriff Preston said. “I would have helped you.”
“I know, Sheriff. I wish I had. But when you’re in the middle of it, you don’t think straight.”
“You could have both been killed out there.”
I nodded. “That’s a fact. We probably should have been.”
He said he’d call Callie’s parents, and I asked if I could do it. I dialed them from a pay phone in the hallway and Mrs. Reynolds picked up. It wouldn’t have surprised me a bit if she’d been up all night praying.
“Billy, what’s wrong? Did you know your station is off the air?”
“I know, ma’am. I’ve got some good news. I found her.”
“You did?” She said it in a gasp, and then she started crying and whimpering. “Where? What happened?”
“I’m down here at the hospital with her.”
“Hospital? Is she okay?”
“I think she’s going to be, but she’s been through a lot, Mrs. Reynolds. Some of it I don’t even know. I knew you and your husband would want to come down and be with her.”
“As soon as I can throw some clothes on, we’ll be there. What happened, Billy?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think somebody was holding her against her will. It’s a long story, but if you come down, I think it would be good. Sheriff Preston is here.”
“Sheriff Preston,” she said, like she was in a daze. “All right. You know that your station is off the air, don’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll fix that as soon as I get home.”
The locals said they would need to get in touch with the Kentucky State Police to investigate further. Sheriff Preston worked it out with them to do the tests they needed done on Callie and he would take me back to Kentucky to show them the cabin. I said I needed to get back home and put my station on the air. They kind of looked at me weird, but Sheriff Preston explained.
“I’ll run him back up to Dogwood and then we’ll meet the state police,” Sheriff Preston said.
“That fellow’s gonna be gone before you get back,” one of the locals said.
“We both know he’s probably cut loose already,” the sheriff said. “I’ll coordinate it.”
I stared out the window at the mist rising from the morning dew on the mountain as the sheriff drove me home. He waited in the living room while I changed the tapes and did a station break. I threw on the headphones and thanked people for tuning in, and I asked them to pray for me and my friend Callie Reynolds, who was in the hospital. I don’t know if anybody heard me, but I threw it out there hoping someone would. Then I started another four hours of music and kicked myself for not getting some kid from the neighborhood to come in and help me out. Surely I could have found somebody like that, but I was so intent on doing stuff myself that I guess I let pride get in my way.
I tested my sugar levels and I was pretty much in range, give or take. There wasn’t much to eat in the house, so Sheriff Preston drove by McDonald’s and got me a couple of sausage biscuits, and that perked up my system. He even let me listen to the station as long as we could. I didn’t know it, but I fell asleep as we drove back toward Kentucky. The sheriff woke me as we met up with some officers from there. They followed as I showed the way to Clay’s cabin.
The road looked different in the morning light. My truck was still there where I had left it, and I pointed out the shot-up windshield. I waited in the cruiser a tense few minutes while Sheriff Preston and the others surrounded the cabin. Over near the marsh there were tire tracks dug deep into the mud and I shook my head when I thought of how close Callie and I came to dying here. Sheriff Preston and the others said the cabin was empty. I showed them where I’d found Callie, the syringes, where the shots were fired, and the bathtub in the backyard. In the light of day it became clear that the horror in the tub wasn’t a deer. A couple of the Kentucky police fellows strung the whole area with yellow tape and another fellow put the syringes in a plastic bag.
When I’d told them all I could, Sheriff Preston took me back to the hospital and we found Callie’s room. Her parents were outside the door and Mrs. Reynolds hugged me.
“How is she?” I said.
Mrs. Reynolds’s face was a mix of sadness and hope, which is the way things ought to be in a weary world. “She’s awake. The doctor’s in there. She asked about you. I don’t think she remembers much of what happened last night.”
“She slept through most of it,” I said. “Doesn’t surprise me. Can I see her?”
The doctor came out and talked with her parents, so I walked in. Callie was sitting up in bed. The nurse was doing something, but when she saw me, she pulled the curtain and left us alone. I sat down next to Callie and she reached for my
hand.
“I guess we had an interesting night,” she said.
“An interesting few days,” I said.
“How did you find me?”
I smiled. “I’m a bloodhound at heart, darlin’. Get my nose to the trail and it’s hard to kick me off.”
“Or the woman who lost the coin.”
I squeezed her hand. “Just like that. She didn’t know what she had until she lost it.”
She turned her head a little. “How are you, Billy? I’ve been worried about you.”
I shook my head. “Here you are in the hospital hooked up to tubes and you’re worried about me. If that don’t beat all, I don’t know what does.”
“He could have killed us both. The police said we were lucky to be alive.”
“Luck didn’t have a thing to do with it, Callie. It was like I was being drawn to that cabin. I can’t explain it. All along the way the Lord ordered my steps and I don’t have any doubt he guided me.” I leaned closer. “There’s something I’ve never told anybody. Back in Buffalo Creek when I was little, the flood . . .”
She leaned closer when I couldn’t talk. “What is it, Billy?”
“I’ve just felt like the Lord has had his hand on me to do something, and maybe this was it. Maybe this is why he kept me alive all this time. To get you out of that place.”
A tear leaked out of her eye and ran down her face. I reached over with a finger and wiped it away, and she held my hand there.
“I think there’s more for you to do than this, Billy Allman. And I think you’ve been doing it all your life.”
I shook my head. “This is not about me.”
“It’s true. You’ve been a good friend. The very best. And I’ve put too many expectations on you. I’m going to start cooking for you again as soon as I can get out of here.”
“I think there are going to be a lot of changes for us,” I said. “But you take your time. We all need you back on the route. I keep getting mail from across town.”
She laughed and it was like the sound of the doves flying in the morning light. Just soft and warm and good. I asked what the doctor had said about her condition, and that led her down a path I could tell she didn’t want to go.
“Stuff happened out there, Billy. Some really bad stuff.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I mean, I could tell it was bad from what I saw.”
“You don’t know how bad.” She put a hand to her head and squeezed her temples. “I don’t remember much, but what keeps coming back makes me cold inside. It was awful. Evil.”
Her eyes filled with tears. I hate it when a woman cries. I really do. I remember it happening with my mother and how I needed to just go away when she would have a crying jag. But something told me to stay with Callie and not turn. And what sprang to my mind came out in fits and spurts, but it came out just the same.
“Callie, God didn’t turn his back on you the past few days. I hope you don’t think he abandoned you.”
“It didn’t feel like he was there,” she said.
“He was. Right through the worst of it.”
“Then why didn’t he stop it? He could have.”
“True. And in the end, he did.”
“But it’s too late. I can’t change what happened to me. That man took something from me and I’ll never get it back.”
I took her hands in both of mine. “Darlin’, what happened in those woods does not define the rest of your life. People might look at you and say, ‘There’s that woman that was taken to the cabin in Kentucky.’ But God doesn’t look at you that way. He says, ‘There’s my daughter. There’s my spotless bride that my Son died for.’ What happened out there does not have to follow you. You don’t have to live in its shadow.”
She nodded like she understood, but I don’t think it sank into her soul. I wanted to find out more about her condition and how long she’d be in the hospital, but the doctor and her parents came in and I had to leave.
Sheriff Preston took me home. He said we were both lucky to be alive and I told him the same thing I’d told Callie. He smiled as if he knew I was going to say something like that.
Of course the station had gone off the air again, but it didn’t bother me. It was time for the preaching programs and I put one on and took a shower. I figured I would let people know more about Callie the next morning. As soon as my head hit the pillow for my nap, I was out and I didn’t wake up until the whistling of the off-the-air alert.
I slept through most of the evening, waking up every four hours or so to keep the music going. Mr. Reynolds called and asked if I wanted him to bring me something to eat. “The missus is staying with Callie, but I can drop you by something if you want.”
I thanked him and said I was okay. Then he told me what the doctors said. I could tell he was holding some stuff back because it was feminine and private, but reading between the lines, I knew that though she’d been through a lot, she was going to be okay. At least physically.
As I was drifting off to sleep in the wee hours of the next morning, I couldn’t help but replay some of the things I’d said to Callie. The stuff about not having the past follow you. Not being defined by the things that happen to you. I realized those words were for her, but I didn’t know then that they were every bit as much for me.
* * *
Dating is not something I had ever done seriously. I have been in the company of women before, but to be honest, the pretty ones made me more nervous than anything, and it was just easier to go about my business and not deal with the heartache and letdown. When I think about all the money I’ve saved over the years on flowers and dinners and haircuts, it’s a fair amount. Of course, I spent a lot on Heather and maybe that jaded me about romantic pursuits.
Callie and I sat together in church on Sundays, and some of the older ladies began to whisper. We decided not to let that deter us, but it was a powerful detriment to my worship, especially when Callie sat close and my neck turned red.
I’m not much one to go to the movies because I can’t see spending so much money on something you could watch on video for a couple of dollars. If Callie had wanted to, I suppose I would have taken her, but I figured she’d agree with me. For our first “official” date, I took her to the most familiar eatery in Huntington—Stewarts. We ordered two mugs of root beer and six hot dogs and sat in the parking lot and ate off the tray they put in the window. We talked awhile about the radio station and her work and people at church. I felt like I could talk with her about anything, which is a good way to begin a relationship. Not that I had ever had one, but I’m just assuming that’s true. If you can talk with somebody about anything, it means you’ll probably do all right down the road.
There was a lull in the conversation and my thoughts turned toward more serious matters. Without much warning I just kind of blurted it out.
“I don’t know what you’re looking for in a man as far as financial stability.” I unwrapped one of the napkins from around a hot dog.
She licked some chili sauce off her finger. “What do you think I’m looking for?”
“I suppose you deserve somebody who will put food on the table and pay the mortgage.”
“That’d be a start,” she said. “But that’s not all I’m looking for.”
“I can’t buy you fancy clothes and a new car every other year.”
She turned and looked in the back of the truck. “I didn’t know there was anybody around here asking for that.” Then she got quiet. “You think that’s what I’m looking for?”
I shrugged and took another bite. I swear there is nothing as good as that sauce with the onions and the steamed bun.
Some sauce dribbled down on her blouse and she tried to wipe it off. It was a stain that would last, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Why don’t we talk about you?” she said. “You’re acting like I’m this hard-to-please woman. I’m not.”
“I can tell by the company you ke
ep.”
She looked hurt.
“I meant me. I just think you deserve more, that’s all. More than I can give.”
“Why do you sell yourself so short, Billy? You’ve got a lot more to give than most men combined.”
“You think so?”
“First off, you’re handsome as the devil.”
I took a pen from my shirt pocket and put a napkin on my knee. “Let me write this down. Sounds like it’s gonna be good.”
“You only have a few fears, going out in public being one. You love the Lord. You have integrity. You pay your bills on time, as far as I can tell. You loved your mother. And you know how to treat a girl. How did you know I liked these hot dogs so much?”
“I didn’t; I just hoped you did.”
“Now, you don’t take such good care of yourself as far as the diabetes goes, and that could prove costly down the road. That would be the only thing I’d change right off.”
“Now you’re sounding like my mother.” I took a swig of diet root beer and it stung my throat. My blood sugar was rising from the carbs in the bun, but I didn’t care. “Would you like spending more time with me?”
“What does that mean?” Callie said.
“You know, going out and doing things together from time to time.”
“Oh. I thought you meant something else. Sure. We should spend time getting to know each other better, but the jury is in as far as I’m concerned.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“And what’s the verdict?”
She just stared at me and smiled, and I focused on her left eye. There was something there that warmed me deep down, and I knew things were going to move fast from there.
I drove us through downtown and along the riverfront. We stopped at a Dairy Queen and sat on a bench and ate a banana split together.
“Aren’t you going to dose for that?” she said.
