The Great Thirst Boxed Set

by Mary C. Findley

“Okay, maybe I will have to figure out how to kick his butt, anyway.” Keith groaned with the effort of trying to pull Talia back down beside him. “It’s about time he quit giving you grief. None of this is your fault. All you did was be beautiful and care about kids and open our eyes to how important it is to save the Word of God.”

  Talia relaxed again and snuggled up against him. “It feels so good to be able to touch you again. For you to touch me. Even just a little. Oh! Cherub is glad too.” She moved Keith’s hand so he could feel the rhythmic kicking.

  “Dancing up a storm, aren’t you?” Keith grinned. “Does Dan even know about Cherub?”

  “Not from me,” Talia said. “Maybe the surprise will mellow him out.”

  “Something better or I will find a way to give him a butt-kicking. That phone conversation had better be the last time he disrespects my Warrior Angel.”

  “You know what? Maybe he does know about Cherub. He had a new nickname for me. He called me Mossad Mama.”

  “My brother is going to be in such a world of hurt. I will make it happen.”

  “And then you’ll have experience with how to help me beat the Weird Sisters,” Talia said.

  “Oh, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  Emails and texts poured in as soon as Talia started contacting kids in the Bible as Literature class. Keith and Talia were both elated and stunned to hear the mixture of giddy anticipation and horror stories of ongoing “tablet activations.” In another county a student had tried to throw a can of gasoline at school security guards and set them on fire. Five school shootings had taken place across the state. The kids expressed horror over Keith’s accident and some darkly wondered if it was an accident. All of them vowed to perform any service Keith needed while they were in Veracruz.

  Talia fretted through Keith’s determination to stay sitting up for a Skype session with his father and grandmother, with various Precious Treasure denizens mugging in the background. She could see their smiles and waves freeze when they saw him.

  Talia understood everyone’s reaction to the assembly of splints, slings, and casts as complicated as the rigging of a ship. He also still had substantial bruising and swelling on every visible part of his face and body and some “external bracing” metal frames that actually sank into his flesh and were screwed temporarily into place.

  “So they’re transferring you to a rehabilitation center today?” Joshua Bradley asked.

  “Yep. That’s what the doctor said. Somebody should be here any time to get us moved. Talia’s got everything packed.”

  “We’re praying for the best possible outcome, son,” his father replied, “And looking forward to seeing you as God makes a way for your plans for us to work out. Oh, I spoke to your brother yesterday. We need to pray hard for him. You can feel his frustration. It’s so clear that he believes he’s somehow failed to protect us and all this is his fault.”

  “His fault? He made it sound like it’s all Talia’s fault. I wanted to make him hurt so bad when she told me what he said to her. Is he still drinking as much as he was when he came for Joana’s funeral?”

  “Keith, listen to me for a minute. This is not about Talia, or about that feud you two have had going on since your mother died. This is about your brother, who is living day after day, year after year, with no hope. He grew up wanting to protect people. He joined the army for that very reason. Now he’s lost his mother and his sister, and he was just faced with the very real possibility of losing both of us. Can’t you understand why he’s so angry?”

  “Are you sure you’re seeing this right, Dad? Dan has blamed somebody else every time something bad happened in our lives. For years he blamed me for not being more help to you guys when Joana got sick. He said it was my fault mom died. Then he turned on Talia when Joana died, when she was the one who was there for her at the hospital. Why are you defending him?”

  “I know. I know he’s lashing out at everyone, but he doesn’t know how else to deal with his own pain.”

  “Maybe I can help him out with that. I’m getting a real life lesson in handling pain.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Calm down. Don’t let your pride blind you to understanding Dan, and being a real brother to him.”

  “My pride?” Talia hadn’t seen Keith push the morphine button all day, but his thumb slid over it as his agitation rose.

  Talia slid onto the bed beside Keith and spoke to Joshua Bradley. “I know I haven’t been praying for Dan the way I should be. Thank you for that reminder. We need to do that, right now. We love you, Pedar shohar, my father-in-law. God bless you for your wisdom.”

  “I can’t believe he said that,” Keith fumed when they had disconnected. “Dan has been an arrogant jerk to me most of his life, and I’m the one with the pride problem?”

  “Lotfan dar eshgham,” Talia said, covering up his lips with hers and preventing any more words from coming out for a full minute.

  “I don’t even know what that means, but I love to hear you speak Persian,” Keith said. “Wow. What did I do to deserve that?”

  “It’s Farsi, and it means, ‘Please do not doubt my love for you,’” Talia said soberly. “I wanted to calm you down. You just pushed your morphine button three times, and you know you can’t even get more than one dose at a time.”

  “Got myself all worked up over Dan again, didn’t I?” Keith sighed. “How can my dad be so wrong about him?”

  “I think he’s right. People who are hurting sometimes can’t help hurting other people. Think about how long he’s gone without Christ to comfort him. He’s driven you, and probably even your father and grandmother, to react in anger or grief over his drinking and his tantrums. Go back to where you were under the ball court, buried alive, so cold and in so much pain, and so alone.”

  Keith flinched but Talia kissed him again and continued.

  “Think about how hard it was to want to keep breathing, just like Joana said. You have hope, and even she had hope, as sick as she was, that one day there would be loved ones all around and freedom to just breathe sweet pure lungfuls of air. Dan’s pain is mental and spiritual, not physical. But it’s just as bad. He’s just as cold and alone, and it’s just as hard to breathe inside his soul. God’s Spirit can’t get to him through that ton of bricks he’s piled up on top of himself, that he thought would protect him from all of God’s expectations, and yours, and your family’s.

  “Think about how Jiggly dug you out from under those bricks and breathed air into you all the way to the hospital when nobody even thought you were still alive. He’s not even your brother, and he did that for you. What are you going to do for that man who is your brother, who is in agony because he’s dead in trespasses and sins?”

  Tears slid down Keith’s face. His head dropped back against the pillow. “Gonna pray for him,” he said.

  “That’s right,” Talia said. “We both are, in just a minute. But I’m not finished yet. Before the sun goes down today, you’re going to call him. And you’re going to tell him you saw the treasure everybody’s been searching for, right there, but you couldn’t reach it, and you couldn’t even make anybody else believe it was there.”

  “What?” Keith asked.

  “We are just people, and we have no power to change anybody’s heart,” Talia said. “We know Christ is real and so is salvation, but we can’t make anybody believe it. God teaches us that the message is His, and the presentation is His, and the changing of hearts is His. But sometimes He can use us, by humbling us under His mighty hand.

  “That’s where you were, Keith. Prophets in the Scriptures said God’s hand or His Spirit was heavy on them so many times. Remember what that felt like, so you can stay humble and just tell Dan the treasure is there for him to find. You can’t even help him do it. God told us in His Word that even though we are compelled to share the message, people won’t listen, and their ears will be stopped up. If Dan’s going to get anywhere with God, he has to do
it himself.”

  Chapter Ninety-four – Rehabilitation

  “One more, Keith. Then we’ll be done for today.”

  Keith lifted his leg two inches and let it drop. Raul, the therapist, shook his head.

  “I mean one more real lift,” he said.

  Keith stared up at him from his sweat-soaked position flat on his back on the vinyl-covered table. “That was as real as it gets. Sorry.”

  “Man,” Raul said, “I heard such great things about you from the aides over at the hospital. The nurses and Dr. Ramirez said you were ready to get back on your feet.”

  “They must have been talking about some other guy who got his chest crushed,” Keith said. “Because this guy is missing his old friend the morphine button.”

  “Do I have to go show you the paraplegics again? They can do more reps than you can,” Raul insisted. He rattled a little white paper cup. “Here’s your pain medication. This is how you take it now, and the only way you’re going to get it is to give me one more real leg lift.”

  “You took this job because all the torture chamber positions were filled, right?” Keith lifted his leg until it touched Raul’s outstretched hand and slowly lowered it.

  “Perfect,” Raul said. “And you didn’t just let it drop, so it didn’t hurt near as bad as that little one, right? Admit it. It felt as good as it did bad.”

  “Yeah,” Keith said as Raul helped him sit up. “I need another shower.”

  “Nah. The ladies love to see their men sweat.” Raul nodded toward the door as Talia hesitantly entered. “And there she is, right on cue.” He handed Keith the medication cup. Keith watched Talia walk across the room with the pill cup still in his hand. Raul jiggled his elbow and pointed to the water on the tray stand beside him.

  “They don’t, however, like to see their men feeling what you’re going to feel if you don’t take those,” Raul said softly. “The time to be tough is when you have to feel the body parts working to get stronger. After that, you take the meds before the pain gets so bad you can’t breathe again.”

  “What if I can’t stop taking them?” Keith asked.

  Talia paused when an elderly patient said something to her in Spanish. She smiled and stopped to reply.

  “I’m not going to pretend people don’t get addicted,” Raul said. “But you got your faith, your family you been telling me about, and that beautiful woman and soon-to-be baby over there. It’s the people who have nobody and nothing who have the most problems saying good-bye to Señor Opiate. Pray, love that family and remember God has His eye on you.” Raul snapped open a walker and dropped it down in front of Keith.

  “Wait … you said we were done …?” Keith faltered.

  “Except for getting to your wheelchair, which is over by the door.” Raul grinned. “How soon did you say that bunch of kids from your class will be here? You really want them to have to push you around in that thing? You want your wife to keep doing it now?”

  Talia approached, hesitating again because of the expression on Keith’s face. He saw Raul glance again at her, and the walker snapped shut.

  “We can give her a break today, I guess,” the therapist said. “Sit still. I’ll go grab the chair.”

  “Give her a break?” Keith echoed.

  “Yeah. The support group bears the real load of rehab,” Raul said. “You think the weight of the world is on you? Guess again. What hurts worse, your own pain or watching it on the face of the person you love?”

  “Wait,” Keith said. “Gimme that walker.”

  “Now you’re talking. Buenos Tardes Señora Bradley,” Raul didn’t miss a beat, setting the walker back in place and helping Keith stand.

  Keith leaned over it and kissed Talia. “See my face? I’m smiling. I’ll be smiling all the way over to that door. Try to keep up, you two.”

  “When is the baby due?” another therapist, a middle-aged blonde, asked as they passed slowly by.

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Talia said with a shy smile. “The doctor thought July.”

  “You don’t know for sure?” the woman asked, skeptical. “Well, is it a boy or a girl?”

  “We wanted to be surprised,” Talia replied, but Keith saw that she had started to shrink into herself.

  “Who doesn’t want to know what the baby will be?” the therapist demanded. “And when it’s coming? Do you have everything ready? Not like your husband will be building a crib or painting the nursery. It’s going to be July in six weeks. This is on you, girlfriend.”

  Keith stopped and stared at the woman. “We can’t even go home,” he said, breathing hard, once again drenched in sweat from the short walk he had accomplished. “There isn’t any nursery to paint, or crib to put together. My wife has worn herself out trying to take care of me. Don’t you dare make her feel like she isn’t doing enough.”

  The therapist flushed scarlet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think –”

  “No need to say that,” Keith spat. “It was obvious.”

  He struggled on toward the door in the thick silence. “Can I walk to my room?” he asked Raul when Talia started to pull the wheelchair over.

  “Keith, you don’t have to prove your manhood to people who should learn to keep their mouths shut,” Raul cautioned. “I’d advise you to take a rest. Maybe tomorrow you can take that walk. It’ll go better when your ego’s not in it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Keith said. “I shouldn’t have blown up at her. But the sooner I can get going under my own power, the better for the support system, right? Both of them?” He awkwardly patted Talia’s midsection and grinned at the flurry of kicking in response.

  “The support system is holding up okay, and Raoul is right,” Talia said with a smile. “Besides, you’ll want to be sitting down when you see the surprise in your room.”

  “Hey, David,” Keith said when he rolled himself through the doorway of his tiny quarters at the rehabilitation center. “How’s the tablet collection going? Man, I feel so out of it.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Keith saw Talia shut the door behind him and sit down on the fold-out chair by his bed, which became her bed at night. He wondered why she kept twisting her hands together.

  “Should be done today,” David Sharon said cheerfully, “but I’d have to check to be sure. I had to take some personal time and I haven’t been to the site in a couple of days. I brought a friend along. I hope you don’t mind.”

  David stepped aside and Dan rose from the folding chair behind him. “Hey, baby brother. You look like crap.”

  “You don’t look so good yourself,” Keith said, noting Dan’s stubble and red-rimmed eyes. His camouflage uniform gave a whole new meaning to the term “fatigues.” “I been trying to call you, but I could never get through.”

  “I had an assignment in Afghanistan – they activated us right after I talked to dad, before you were supposed to start rehab,” Dan answered. “We weren’t allowed to communicate with anybody. It was … it went bad, really bad. Only three of us got out. The other two are still in the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry,” Keith said. “We been trying to pray for you more.”

  Dan shrugged. “Guess God didn’t get the memo,” he said.

  “That’s not what I bought you here to say, Dan,” David said, keeping his voice gentle. “This is what accountability is all about. You don’t change the subject and you don’t deflect the responsibility.”

  Keith and Dan both shot David looks – Keith’s bewildered, Dan’s unfathomable.

  “Okay.” Dan took a long, unsteady breath. “I volunteered for that assignment, after I promised to come see you, because I wasn’t man enough to see you all smashed up. I also took it because I knew I could likely get killed, and I wanted to. But God picked most all the other guys, and I still don’t get why. None of us who lived through it do. So when I got back to base in California, I checked out my sidearm and ammo, went to the firing range, sat down where nobody would see me, and tried to put a bullet up through the bo
ttom of my jaw into my brain.”

  “And that is when God told me to call him,” David said. “You probably don’t know that Dan and I made a pact at the time your mother died, Keith – a suicide pact – only it was with the hope of keeping each other from doing the deed. I think Naddy has told you about my history, and this is not about me, but Dan’s phone was on, and he answered it, and we talked for about four hours.”

  “I got that big long text you sent, telling me all the stuff that happened to you,” Dan said to Keith, “and I had just talked to dad before I went on the mission. He was still wearin’ an ankle monitor and looking at the possibility of going to court and maybe back to prison. I remembered every word I said to your wife, and all the things I’d said to everybody ever since mom died started pourin’ in, and I –” he breathed again and scrubbed hard at the tears “– I didn’t know how to fix anything I’d done wrong, ever, except by not giving anybody else any more pain.”

  “And what did I tell you about that?” David asked while Dan paused to try to get himself under control.

  “‘Suicide don’t take the pain away. It just gives it to somebody else.’” Dan rubbed his eyes ferociously. “They make us take classes on that in training. They make us spit it back to them. But it don’t – it don’t come to mind when I’m so filled up with all them times when I made everybody sad, or mad, or made ’em have to hang up on me – cuz as much as I tried to put it on you, Keith, it was always me that wasn’t there when I should have been. Always.”

  “You’re here now,” Keith said.

  “Don’t look like you need me now,” Dan said.

  “You made it to my wedding, too,” Keith said. “I don’t even know how you did that.”

  “Sharon got me there,” Dan said. “Still not exactly sure where there was, even.”

  “You wanted to go,” David said. “I just made it happen.”

  “Dan, can you go back and fix all the stuff you wish you hadn’t done, or didn’t do, or did wrong?” Keith asked.

  “No,” Dan grumbled.