Say something, Maggie. It’s time you talked it through. She gritted her teeth…and suddenly the words were out before she could stop them. “I hate my husband.”
Every member in the group was suddenly focused on Maggie. Dr. Baker cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it, Maggie?”
Normally this was when the doctor would step in—especially if it was a person’s first time to share in front of the other group members. But Maggie didn’t want someone else summarizing her situation. She wanted to tell them. They had shared their hearts with her, their lives and losses. Now it was her turn. She nodded to Dr. Baker, then turned to face the group.
“I’m here because I had a…well, a breakdown, I guess. All because of something that happened nearly eight years ago.”
Maggie glanced from face to face and saw she had their undivided attention—and more than that, their empathy. They had each journeyed back in time at one point or another and found it almost unbearably painful. Now Maggie could see that they were there for her, ready to hold her up or hug her close or cry with her should her journey backwards become too difficult.
She drew a deep breath and told them about falling in love with Ben, and how young and pure and ideal her intentions had been. How Ben had—for a time—chosen Deidre over her, and how she had taken up with John McFadden. She shared with them the fact that she’d gotten pregnant and how, for a brief while, she had considered keeping the baby.
“I dreamed about her even then.” Maggie had come this far without tears, but now her eyes filled quickly. “I imagined what she’d wear, and how she’d look, and how it would feel to hold her in my arms. I was her mommy and even if everything else was falling apart I knew I’d be the best mother in the world. I l-l-loved her so much.”
Sarah fell to her knees, shuffled across the circle, and took Maggie’s hand in hers. Dear God, how could I choose Ben over my very own baby? She closed her eyes tight, clinging to Sarah’s hand, and allowed the sobs to wash over her.
After several minutes, Harold handed her a tissue and patted her back. “We’re here for you, Maggie. Whenever you’re ready.”
Maggie blew her nose again and forced herself to continue her story She told them about hiding the pregnancy from her parents while she thought about her options, how just when she was going to tell them the truth, she received the call from Ben.
“He was a perfect man, at least I thought he was.” Maggie sniffled, and Sarah squeezed her hand. “When he told me he still loved me, I knew there was only one thing to do.”
Dr. Baker had been quiet through most of the story, but she interrupted now. “Can you explain yourself, Maggie?”
She nodded. “I lied to him. Told him I was going to Israel for a semester as an exchange student. Instead I went to Woodland, Ohio, moved in with a wonderful family, and finished my pregnancy.”
More tears fell onto Maggie’s cheeks. “She had this tiny, perfect face. The most beautiful little girl I’d ever seen. And…”
Sarah leaned her head on Maggie’s knees.
“Oh, God, how could I?”
Dr. Baker waited while Maggie’s sobs subsided again. “You gave your baby up for adoption, is that right, Maggie?”
“Everyone said adoption was the best choice…”
“It’s a wonderful choice for a vast number of women, young and old.”
“But not for me! I loved her so much it killed me…handing her over to the social worker and watching her disappear from my life.” She sniffed loudly. “I gave her away for one reason only—so I could convince Ben I was the sweet, young virgin he’d always wanted to marry.”
The room had grown quiet. “Is that why you feel so strongly about him now?”
“Yes!” Maggie could hear the anger in her voice. Where’s this rage coming from, Lord? What’s happening to me? She drew a steadying breath. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”
“So you blame him for having to give up your daughter, is that right?” Dr. Baker’s voice was calm, without accusation or judgment. Still Maggie felt a piercing sense of conviction.
What? It is his fault. I would never have given her up, never have lied if it hadn’t been for him.
“Definitely. He forced me to lie and made me give up my baby girl. I hate him.” Maggie’s voice rose. “I’ll hate him till the day I die. And when I’m out of here, the first thing I’m doing is filing for divorce.”
Sarah made her way back to her seat and an uncomfortable quiet echoed through the room in the wake of Maggie’s statement.
What was everyone’s problem? Wasn’t this where they were supposed to circle her and cry with her and help her get through it? Weren’t they supposed to agree with her and empathize with her? The familiar fog of darkness began to settle once more over Maggie’s mind and soul, and she fought the urge to dart from the room.
Make them understand, God. Come on. I need Your help here.
“Maggie? Can I say something?” It was Howard, and although Maggie had always seen him as floundering and pathetic, today he was sitting straight in his chair and his eyes held a serenity that Maggie hadn’t known since before her daughter’s birth.
All eyes were on Howard, and Maggie nodded in his direction. “Sure.”
Although he’d filled out somewhat during his stay at Orchards, Howard was still painfully thin, and he shoved the sleeves of his sweater up past his elbows as he prepared to speak. “Don’t take this wrong, Maggie. But after losing my family I’ve become certain of one thing—” he glanced at the others and Maggie saw them giving him silent encouragement to continue— “God wants families to last forever. Or until He takes one of you home. Have you—you know—have you ever explained any of this to your husband?”
Suddenly as though someone had thrown up a window blind, Maggie had a glimpse of the situation from Ben’s perspective. It was the first time since coming to Orchards that she’d even considered his side. Obviously he knew by now that she wasn’t receiving his calls or visits. But otherwise he knew nothing. Not about the lies she’d told or the baby she’d given up. Not even about how she blamed him for all that had gone wrong in the past eight years.
She could picture him, see the worry on his face, in his eyes…the care and concern for her. She closed her eyes and pictured him, still loving her even as he struggled to figure out what had happened to them, to her. The image caused her burning hatred to cool some. For a moment.
Then she blinked hard, and the images of Ben disappeared.
She didn’t owe him an explanation! He didn’t love her, not really. He loved an image, someone he’d created in his mind—the perfect godly wife; the chosen virgin bride. But that wasn’t Maggie.
No, she wouldn’t feel sorry for him. All of this was Ben’s fault.
“That’s ridiculous, Howard.” The anger in Maggie’s voice was gone, but she felt the tension between her and the rest of the group.
Dr. Baker looked at her watch. “Well, Maggie, maybe you can finish tomorrow. For now we better move on. I’ve got a passage in the book of Romans I’d like us all to take a look at…”
Bile was rising in Maggie’s stomach, and she was suddenly engulfed in a closet of anxiety. I can’t breathe in here, Lord. Get me out.
Repent, My daughter. Come into the light of honesty and repentance.
No! It’s not my fault! None of this would have happened if only—
Everyone else had their Bibles open, but Maggie could no longer understand what they were saying. The darkness that had pursued her for so long was back and it was demanding something of her—something Maggie couldn’t understand. No, wait. This was different. This time it wasn’t really darkness at all, it was ominous, but not in an evil way…
It was like the hand of God.
Maggie tried to breathe but couldn’t, and in that moment she knew she had mere seconds before her entire breakfast would be on the floor. She stood quickly and grabbed her things. “I have to go now…”
Her words j
umbled together and she couldn’t decide whether to run to the nearest bathroom or down the hall and out into the courtyard for the air she so desperately craved.
As she ran out of the room she felt her stomach heave, and she barely made it to the bathroom before the first wave of vomit shot from her body. She remained there, huddled on the floor, her face hanging over the edge of the toilet, while her stomach convulsed again and again. She might have stayed there longer, but when she was finally finished, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Maggie, are you okay?” She looked up and saw Dr. Baker.
“I need air.”
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Dr. Camas wants to see you.”
Something about the doctor’s tone made Maggie feel like a naughty child. She struggled to her feet and once more felt the familiar heaviness on her shoulders and back. She should never have talked to the group. Now she’d blown it for sure. They’d probably kick her out and tell her to find help somewhere else. Anger singed the edges of her heart.
“Oh, I get it!” Maggie snatched a paper towel and wiped her face. “This is a Christian hospital, and I made the mistake of mentioning the fact that I hate my husband and can’t wait to divorce him.” She stared at herself in the mirror, then turned around slowly to face Dr. Baker. “They’re going to kick me out, right?”
“Not at all.” Dr. Baker’s face broke into the most genuine smile Maggie had ever seen. “Dr. Camas heard about our session. He thinks you’ve reached a breakthrough.”
Twenty-three
AFTER WRESTLING WITH HIS DECISION MOST OF THE NIGHT, BEN chose to sleep in. Whoever Kathy Garrett was and whatever information she might hold, it would simply have to wait. By the time he showered and made his way across the street to Hap’s Diner for the Wednesday morning omelette special, Ben began doubting his decision to visit the Cincinnati courthouse at all.
Ben set down his fork and from his seat along the counter he stared out the window through a layer of greasy residue, the same residue that seemed to cover nearly everything in the diner.
So this was where Maggie went? Not Israel, but Woodland, Ohio.
He let his eyes fall on a horse and rider making their way down Main Street. Woodland was little more than a glorified farm town, too close to Cincinnati to warrant any industry of its own and too far away for most commuters.
Still, there was a sort of old-fashioned charm about it. Ben sighed, picked up his fork, and poked around the omelette again. The melted cheese had grown cold, and grease had begun to harden along the edges of the egg, turning Ben’s stomach. Was it possible that somewhere between this sleepy little place and downtown Cincinnati there lived a seven-year-old child who was Maggie’s very own daughter?
He shoved his plate back and clenched his jaw. What did it matter? Even if the girl did live here, she was probably part of some wonderful family, happily getting on with her life. Possibly even unaware that she had been adopted. What good could come from digging up a situation that had been sealed and buried so long ago?
A grisly old man sat down on the stool beside Ben and took off a threadbare baseball cap. The man’s plaid lumber jacket smelled faintly of old motor oil and cow manure and as he leaned onto the counter, Ben caught an offensive stench of body odor. Wringing his hands together nervously, the old guy turned to slap Ben on the back so hard Ben had to use his feet to stop from falling off the stool.
“Mornin’! Y’must be new around here.”
For a moment, Ben wondered if he was the brunt of some kind of practical joke. He glanced over his shoulder but throughout the diner people were minding their own business. Looking back at the man, Ben snorted softly. Just my luck…
“See ya ate the special.” He laughed out loud, and Ben felt suddenly self-conscious. The guy was probably homeless—a bum or something—and now he was going to attract the attention of everyone in the diner. He tossed the old man a sideways glance and figured him to be in his late eighties. At least. Probably half deaf, too.
“Uh—” Ben looked down at his plate—“Yeah. The special. Sure.” He signaled the girl behind the counter and asked for his bill. Quaint or not, he’d had enough of Woodland. It was time to go home and face Maggie, time to hire a divorce attorney so both of them could get past this nightmare and go on with their lives. A flash of gnawing emptiness filled his heart at the thought of losing Maggie. She was his best friend, his…well, his everything. Wasn’t she the one—other than God—who made his life complete? Or had he never really known her? Had the woman he’d loved only existed in his imagination?
Either way, this was no time to be sentimental. After all, Maggie was the one who wanted the div—
“You remind me of me at your age.”
Ben faced the old man, trying to find a balance between being polite and discouraging the conversation. He’d spent enough time in Woodland; it was time to get home. “Do I know you?”
“Nope.” The man stroked his whiskered face. “But I’ve seen your type. All sure ’o yourself, thinking you’re better ’n everyone else.”
Ben clenched his jaw. Where was the old man going with this? If only he’d skipped breakfast; he’d be halfway back to Cleveland by now. “Listen, I have to get—”
“Just finished up a mighty fine Bible study, I did.” The man’s interruption forced Ben back into his seat. Maybe he needed a handout. In that case Ben was more than willing to pick up the old guy’s breakfast tab or help him out some. As long as Ben could get back to his car in the next five minutes.
“Look, do you need something. Money for breakfast, a few—”
He waved a gnarled hand in Ben’s direction. “Got everything I need in the Good Book. Yes, siree.”
The man rubbed his eyebrows and his smile disappeared. “I was young once, too. Had me a pretty wife, children.” He gazed straight ahead and Ben saw that there were tears in the man’s eyes. “They wouldn’t recognize me now.”
Ben glanced at his watch. What would Maggie’s little girl look like? How was life in her adoptive home?
Ridiculous, he silently chided himself. Forget about her. Better to listen to the old man’s story and be on his way. It was getting too late to see the social worker anyway. He angled his head at the old man. “Did they move away; your family, I mean?”
The man stared down at his weathered hands and shook his head. “Nope. Died in a car wreck back in the fifties. Started drinking a week later and, well…here I am.” He locked his hands together. “Know something?” He brought his gaze up again and this time his tears were unmistakable. “I miss ‘em like it was yesterday.” He kept his eyes on Ben’s. “You got a family, young man?”
Ben thought of Maggie locked in a psychiatric hospital across the state, and of her little girl…whatever her name was…
He swallowed hard. “I…uh…yeah. I have a family.”
The man took a swig of coffee and put a hand on Ben’s shoulders. “Do something for me, will you?”
In light of the old guy’s sad story Ben no longer cared about the other customers in the diner or how it might look if he was fraternizing with a homeless man. He resisted the urge to pull away. “Sure you don’t need some money or a meal or something?”
The man shook his head. “Nah, I get by.” He aimed his gaze at Ben, and a single tear navigated its way down the creases and crevices of his worn face. “I want you to love that family of yours, you hear?” The man brushed at the tear and tightened his grip on Ben. “Don’t let even a minute go by without loving ’em and telling ’em so. Not a minute, understand?”
A strange sense of knowing came across Ben’s entire being, as though God Himself had sent the man. Don’t let a minute go by…a minute go by…a minute go by. The old man’s wisdom rattled around in Ben’s broken heart, and suddenly his throat was thick with sorrow and longing for the only woman he’d ever loved. He stared hard at the old guy and nodded. Maggie girl, where are you? I love you, I do…if only I could tell you. He pictured the child,
Maggie’s little daughter, and felt an overwhelming desire to see the social worker. Wherever it might lead, he would do at least that.
The man dropped his hand and his expression softened. “You won’t be young forever…and take it from me, you can’t go back. Not ever.”
With that, the man finished his coffee, took two quarters from his pocket and laid them on the counter, then stood to leave. Before heading for the door he cast a final glance at Ben. “Do it now, you hear? Make every minute count.”
Ben tipped his head at the man. They were the exact words he’d needed to hear. God, did You send him to talk to me? The question hung in the rafters of his mind. “Thanks.” Then the man took off down the street before Ben could give more thought as to how he might help the man or how grateful he was for the unexpected insight.
As Ben climbed into his car he had no idea what the future held, but one thing seemed clear. Whatever else he didn’t understand about his meeting with the old man, however dismal the situation between he and Maggie, the old guy was right. Time really was fleeting; every moment did matter. Because of that he would not leave town without doing a very important task, one that was quite possibly an errand sent from heaven.
Looking up Kathy Garrett.
Twenty-four
IT WAS ONE OF THOSE DAYS AT THE DEPARTMENT OF SOCIAL Services, a time when it was difficult even for someone like Kathy Garrett to see the good in what she was doing. There were children needing foster homes, foster parents needing relief, and an hour ago a judge had ordered a two-year-old crack baby—born addicted to heroin—back into her mother’s house because the woman was finally out of prison.
Kathy huffed out loud as she sifted through a mountain of case folders, all of which needed her attention in one way or another. If only she weren’t so tired. Poor Amanda, up half the night wondering if maybe by some God-ordained miracle Kathy might actually be her real mother. Tears welled up in Kathy’s eyes again and she dabbed at them angrily. Why God? Why isn’t there someone for her?
When Joy Came to Stay Page 23
