When Joy Came to Stay

by Karen Kingsbury

  Maggie nodded and imagined Ben’s reaction when he got home from work later that day and found her letter. She winced, and her heart felt gripped by pain for what he would suffer when he found out. The air was beginning to feel stuffy and Maggie drew a deep breath. Their marriage was over—she had no choice in the matter. If she were going to survive, it was time for both of them to let go and move forward. I still love him, though. I’ll always love him…

  “Mrs. Stovall, you were about to tell me what’s been happening in your life…”

  Maggie snapped to attention and suddenly knew there was only one place to start, only one that made any sense at all. She would start where it all began: nine years ago at the Cleveland Community Church Annual Prayer and Picnic.

  The first time she ever laid eyes on Ben Stovall and knew she would never—as long as she lived—love anyone else. It was as true then as it was now. And even though her marriage was over, it would be true until the day she died.

  Maggie drew a steadying breath and allowed herself to remember.

  Deep in the heart of the city, Ben spent the afternoon meeting with three different judges and a host of attorneys establishing court dates for coming trials. It was the type of work that didn’t require much concentration but made the time pass quickly all the same. Ben was thankful. There was no way he could have done anything more taxing; there hadn’t been a spare moment all day that he wasn’t been thinking about Maggie.

  He’d considered staying home and talking it out, insisting that she tell him what was wrong. But the doctor had said she might sleep most of the day, and Ben wanted her to get rest.

  Of course, that wasn’t all the doctor had said. He’d confided in Ben that he suspected Maggie had suffered a nervous breakdown. There was medicine she could take for a while, pills that would stabilize her anxiety and help her cope. But there would not likely be improvement in her outlook until she got real help.

  Psychiatric help.

  Just the sound of the word—psychiatric—sent shivers of fear down Ben’s spine. Psychiatrists were for people who battled emotional problems, weren’t they? Medical doctors helped people fight illness. But psych doctors—everyone knew their role. They worked with people who were crazy, people for whom life held no hope. Non-Christians, basically.

  Ben had pondered these thoughts continuously throughout his day and now that it was finally almost time to go home, he could hardly wait to talk to Maggie. He had called her several times but she hadn’t answered. That was understandable, especially if she were tired. But tiredness was not a sign of mental breakdown. Surely the doctors were wrong. His faith-filled wife had not suffered a nervous breakdown and she was not in need of psychiatric help. He had been her covering, after all, the one who prayed for her and took his role as spiritual leader of their home as seriously as he took his need for a Savior.

  She had to be okay, didn’t she?

  What have I done to her, Lord? Wasn’t I good enough? Didn’t I pray for her as often as I should have?

  He left the office half an hour early and a feeling of peace came over him as he pulled into the driveway. He had done all those things; of course she would be okay. As hard as she worked, wasn’t it normal for her to have some kind of letdown now and then? Maybe her column was getting to her; maybe writing about children was making the fact that she didn’t have any of her own more painful than usual.

  Of course! That must be the problem. Maggie was desperate for a child. Ben allowed the relief to wash over him as he made his way into the house. He would sit down with her tonight and they would make a plan, figure out a time when they could try the in vitro fertilization again. Or if Maggie wasn’t up for that, they could discuss adoption. If she wanted a baby, then by God’s grace they would find her one. Whatever it took to bring back the smile that had all but disappeared from her face over the last two years.

  “Maggie, honey, I’m home.”

  He had decided the best way to handle her was to downplay the events of the day before. She was bound to feel terrible now that Cameron and Casey had been taken from her. There was no reason to make her feel worse. He thought about yesterday’s accident and thanked God again that no one had been seriously hurt. Maggie would have been devastated if her carelessness had caused anyone to be injured or…

  He couldn’t bring himself to think about it.

  And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

  The verse from Romans flashed in his mind, and he allowed it to bathe him in peace. Of course they did. All things, even this. The fact that Cameron and Casey were gone was sad, but perhaps that meant it was time to have a baby of their own. He would share that with Maggie and help her believe it was so.

  “Maggie?” Ben tossed his coat and briefcase on the stairs and bounded up. Those must have been some drugs. Maggie’s never slept all day long before. He rounded the corner into their bedroom and jerked to a stop. The bed was made, and Maggie was nowhere to be seen. On his pillow lay a white envelope with his name scrawled across the front.

  “Maggie, honey?” He moved quickly toward their bathroom, then glanced inside the closet. No one. He made his way to the different rooms of the house, one by one, until he was sure she wasn’t there. Panic began building deep in his gut. Where had she gone? Was it safe for her to be out on the streets if she really was having a breakdown?

  He dashed back up to their bedroom and snatched the envelope from his pillow. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he tore it open and pulled out the letter inside. His heart pounded loud and erratically as he unfolded it and began reading:

  Dear Ben,

  I’m sorry you have to learn the truth this way. But things are what they are and I can’t run from them any longer. I don’t know what’s happening to me, why I’m so confused and tired and forgetting things. Yesterday I couldn’t remember where I was or even who I was half the time. I really think I might be losing my mind.

  Because of that I have packed some things and moved out…

  Ben felt his insides tighten and he closed his eyes for a moment. No, God! This isn’t happening. Everything has always been perfect between us. Why? Why would she leave me?

  As though in response, another Scripture banged about inside his head: In this world you will have trouble, but be of good cheer…I have overcome the—

  No. He couldn’t handle this type of trouble, not now. Not with his wife packed and gone to who-knew-where. He opened his eyes and continued reading.

  I’m checking myself into Orchards Psychiatric Hospital but I don’t want you to come looking for me. You need to understand that no matter what help I can find for myself, things are over between us. When I am able to think more clearly, I will hire a divorce attorney who will contact you at that time.

  Until then, please pray for me. I feel like I’m suffocating in darkness and I know for certain this is my last hope. I love you, Ben. I’m sorry I lied to you about everything. I’m sorry it’s brought us to this. I hope you’ll move on and meet someone else so that one day you can have the life you always dreamed of. And I hope in time you will forgive me.

  Love, Maggie

  The shock was more than Ben could imagine. A strange tingling sensation made its way down his spine and over the tops of his arms. This can’t be happening; it’s a bad dream, a joke. He felt as though he’d fallen into some sort of strange dream world. There was no way Maggie would leave him and ask him not to follow her! She was a woman of faith, and never in a million nervous breakdowns would she hire an attorney and sue him for divorce. It wasn’t happening.

  He moved toward the telephone, working to convince himself the news wasn’t real. Then he called information. “The number for Orchards Psychiatric Hospital, please?” It felt strange hearing himself speak the words. Psychiatric Hospital. When was he going to wake up? Surely Maggie would laugh at him for having such a strange dream.

  He dialed the number and waited.


  “Orchards, may I help you?”

  With his free hand, Ben rubbed his temple and tried to concentrate. “Uh, I’m looking for a patient. Maggie Stovall…was she admitted today?”

  There was a pause. “Who’s calling, please? Our patient information is highly confidential.”

  Ben felt himself beginning to shake. “This is…I’m her husband. I’m trying to find her.”

  The nurse’s tone changed and she seemed almost apologetic when she spoke. “Your wife is a patient here, yes.”

  He took two steps backward from the blow, his mind reeling. It was true. His wife was in a psychiatric hospital. Ben paced the bedroom floor, desperately searching for a solution. “What kind of place is Orchards, anyway?” He was buying time, trying to think of a way to get Maggie home where she belonged.

  “We’re a private Christian hospital for patients suffering with mental illness.”

  Mental illness? Maggie? It wasn’t possible. “All right, when will she be released? This evening? Tomorrow morning?”

  The nurse hesitated. “Sir, the inpatient program can last up to two or even three months.”

  Ben couldn’t breathe; pain wracked his body as though someone had sucker punched him in the gut. The blow forced him to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Three months?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Can you put me through to her, please?”

  “Your wife is very ill, and I hope you understand what I’m about to say.” She paused again. “I’m afraid she’s requested no contact with you, Mr. Stovall.”

  This time the shock of her words sent him to his knees. “What?”

  “She has advised us that she will not accept your phone calls, letters, or visits.”

  Ben struggled to breathe. God…help me. “She said that?”

  “Yes. But understand that her feelings could change once she’s had time to talk with the doctor.”

  “Does she…is she in a private room?”

  The nurse seemed to consider whether this was information she should share. “Yes, but we have her in a special unit.”

  Ben’s head was pounding, and he didn’t know what to say, how to respond. “Special unit? What…what special unit?”

  “Suicide watch, Mr. Stovall. I’m sorry.”

  Ben hung up the phone and, still on the floor, hunched over his knees.

  It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t…but it was. In the last twenty-four hours his wife had caused an accident that could have killed herself and their two foster boys. She’d been hospitalized for a fall that still didn’t make sense. She had lost custody of Casey and Cameron and written him a letter stating in no uncertain terms that she was finished with him and would divorce him soon. She had admitted that somewhere along the course of their life she had lied to him about something, apparently something crucial. And then she’d checked herself into a mental hospital where she was under—of all things—a suicide watch.

  It was too much to bear.

  “No! Help me, God…please!” He screamed the words, and they ricocheted against the textured walls of his empty home. When he didn’t hear anything back from the Lord, he buried his head in his hands and did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy.

  He wept.

  What was Maggie doing? Did she intend to sever their vows, forget about him, push him aside? Why hadn’t she shared any of this with him? I’m your best friend, remember, Maggie? How could you do this? God, help me understand. He remained unmoving, pain tearing through his body until slowly, carefully, he was able to accept one part of his new reality: Whatever her motivation, Maggie was very, very sick.

  An hour later he still had no answers, no explanations. But he did have a single goal. Maggie was his partner, his confidante, his wife. He was closer to her than to anyone, anywhere. She was his Maggie girl. Whatever the problem was, he would help her. Even if he spent the rest of his life trying. Ben exhaled, pushing the pain from his lungs and realized it was the same way he’d felt back in 1991, the day he met her.

  And just as he’d decided then, he would win Maggie over and prove his love, whatever it took.

  Ben pulled himself to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. He forced himself to think. Who would know Maggie well enough to shed light on the situation at hand? She had no siblings, no close friends since Tammy left the neighborhood the year before. Her father had died of a heart attack five years earlier, and that left…

  A thought dawned on him.

  Maybe his mother-in-law would be able to explain Maggie’s behavior. Ben leaned back against the headboard. No, it wasn’t possible. The old woman wouldn’t know anything. Maggie and her mother had never been close, not really. Too different, Maggie always said. Her mother lived in Santa Maria, California, and was an upstanding, private person who wore her faith like a medal of honor.

  Once every few years Ben and Maggie flew to the West Coast for a visit, and Ben would inevitably wonder how this woman could possibly be related to his wife. The older woman was wiry thin, with a rope of gray hair that she kept tightly knotted near the nape of her neck. Proud, private, and pinched. That was the feeling one got after spending ten minutes with Madeline Johnson. She was not a woman who hugged or cried easily, and from all Ben could tell she had struggled to understand her only child since Maggie was old enough to talk.

  She said little and cared less, by Maggie’s assessment, and Ben doubted she’d be any help.

  Still, if this breakdown were somehow tied to something in Maggie’s past, her mother was the only link Ben had, the only person who might help him understand whatever mistruth Maggie was talking about.

  Lead me, Lord, that I might understand her. His vision grew blurred by tears again. I can’t live without her, God.

  The next morning Ben called his office and requested a two-week emergency leave. He’d rarely taken a sick day and he’d built up three months’ time if he needed it. Four hours later, he was on a plane headed for Southern California.

  The entire flight he prayed for one thing—that Maggie’s mother could somehow provide Ben with what he desperately needed: A key to unlock the secrets of Maggie Johnson’s past.

  Nine

  THE FIRST SESSION WITH DR. CAMAS WENT BETTER THAN MAGGIE had expected. She stumbled over her words and hadn’t gotten far in her story. She had the uncomfortable feeling that the things she said rarely made sense. But at least she’d kept her focus. And though the blanket of dark desperation still lay draped around her shoulders, she could somehow sense an occasional ray of light as she spoke. More than once during that initial conversation, Maggie was sure the light was coming from Dr. Camas’s eyes.

  If her life were an oversized ball of secret tangled knots, Maggie believed after one meeting that Dr. Camas was someone who had the patience to untie them. At the end of the session, Maggie felt more hope than she’d known in years. And though she battled unseen demons long into the night, she had a sense of urgency and excitement about meeting the doctor again.

  Maggie spent her second day at Orchards, in the hours before her appointment with Dr. Camas, getting familiar with hospital layout and studying other patients as though she were going to write a column on the place. She had expected to see people with catatonic expressions head-butting walls or chanting single-syllable words for hours at a time. Instead, Orchards was filled with quiet people.

  Quietly desperate people. People just like her.

  Maggie wondered about their lives and what secrets they’d kept that caused them to break down and wind up in a psychiatric hospital. Was she the only one whose crisis was brought about by telling lies?

  I haven’t only told lies, I’ve lived them.

  Breakfast and lunch could be eaten in the cafeteria, but the strange sense of not knowing what she was doing or who she was still hovered nearby, so Maggie thought she’d be safer eating in the chair near her bed. There was a sign on the wall of her room just above the desk that said Orchards Psychiatric Hospital. Maggie fig
ured it was there for people like her. People who were inclined to forget even the most basic, information.

  When her mind was tempted to imagine Ben and the warmth of his smile, the security of his embrace, the pain he might be feeling, she forced herself to think of something else. Ben would get over it; after all, he had never really known her. If he had, he never would have married her. He deserved someone real, someone better. Someone holier. He would be better off without her.

  The concentration it required to think correctly and only about certain things left Maggie exhausted by noon. She slept without ever touching her lunch tray.

  The wake-up call came at five minutes before two, and Maggie jumped to her feet. She wasn’t sure where she was or why she was there or what had caused her to sleep, but one thought was clear: Dr. Camas was waiting for her.

  Moving through what felt like a fog, she ran a wet cloth over her face and tried to remember how she had gotten to the hospital. What had happened to her foster boys? Who was caring for them while she was here? The trip through the halls to Dr. Camas’s office felt like it took an hour. When she took her seat across from him, her hands were sweaty and she was breathless, desperate for even a moment of fresh air.

  “You feeling okay, Maggie?”

  The calm in Dr. Camas’s voice worked warmth through her and she settled back into the cushioned chair. “Not really.”

  Silence.

  He must think I’m crazy. I am crazy…why am I here? Where are the boys? Where’s Ben? She started to get up. “I think I better go since I’m supposed to—”

  “Maggie.” The doctor’s voice halted her, and she fell back into the chair, her eyes locked on his.

  “Yes?”

  “This is our time. Remember?”