by Janette Oke
“William has such a nice little family,” Elizabeth was saying. “So well mannered. I have always appreciated good manners in a child.”
Mary beamed her pleasure at the compliment about her grandchildren.
“They get a little rambunctious at times,” Jonathan noted with a chuckle.
“They wouldn’t be healthy children if they didn’t,” Mary defended stoutly.
They talked of many things. The clock ticked on. Nine-thirty came and went. There was no longer the possibility that the journey had gone better than hoped. Ten o’clock arrived. Still no sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.
Ten-fifteen. Elizabeth’s eyes were constantly on the clock, her ears so attuned to the sound of a motor that she no doubt was missing much of the conversation.
Ten-thirty.
“Why don’t you give Maurice a call and see if Henry was held up before getting away?” Elizabeth asked Wynn.
“I don’t have his number. Besides, he may have retired by now.”
“Well—just call the office, then. Someone will be working.”
Wynn looked at the clock. “Let’s give it another half hour or so,” he suggested.
A quarter to eleven.
Christine felt herself yawn. It was getting late and she had been up early. Her mother must have seen her. “Why don’t you go to bed, dear? You’ll see them in the morning.”
Then Elizabeth turned to Jon and Mary. “Why don’t you go off to bed too? No need for us all to stay up and wait.”
“I don’t mind,” said Mary.
“But it’s getting so late. You must be worn out. You’ve had such a big day and tomorrow—”
“It’s all right, Beth,” Mary said as she stood and began to gather coffee cups on the tray. “I think I’ll just slip out to the kitchen and wash up these things while we’re waiting.”
Christine stood, too, and stretched. “I’ll help you,” she offered, glad to have something to do to help pass the time. The conversation had lagged to almost a standstill.
They were in the kitchen for twenty minutes. Christine had listened for the sound of the front door opening, followed by excited greetings, but she had heard nothing.
By the time they returned to the living room, Elizabeth’s face showed strain. It was now eleven fifteen. Without a word, Wynn rose from his chair and moved to the hall phone. It was some time before there was any sound from him.
“Laray? Oh—Officer Furbridge, sorry to bother you. This is Henry’s father. Yes—here in Calgary. No—no. No problem. I just wondered if Henry was able to get away as he had planned. He was? Good. No. No, he hasn’t arrived yet. No. I’m sure everything is fine. He may have had a bit of car trouble. Or some holdup. No—no, I didn’t mean a holdup—just a delay. Some delay. Okay. Thank you. Yes. Thanks.”
Christine was sure her mother had listened to the one-sided conversation with mixed emotions. Henry had left on time. That should be good news. But why had he not yet arrived? Her father had suggested car trouble. It was plausible. Cars were always breaking down at inconvenient times.
Maybe the roads. Just because Calgary had received only a light rainfall did not mean that other places had. It could have rained much harder in Henry’s area. Maybe even caused a washout or trouble with a bridge—
“He would have called if—”
“He wouldn’t have a phone,” said Wynn before Elizabeth could finish.
“Surely he would have been able to find one—somewhere— by now.”
“Maybe they decided to picnic on the way,” suggested Jonathan. “Make a day of it. You know how Danny loves to fish. The time can sneak by when you’re not watching.”
“That isn’t like Henry,” murmured Elizabeth, visibly troubled.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” offered Wynn. “No need for you to—”
“You know I’d never be able to sleep.”
“Well, at least you could rest.”
“No—I could not.” The words were spoken rather sharply.
“I think I’ll make us some tea,” said Mary, rising to her feet.
“My word. We’ll be waterlogged,” murmured Elizabeth distractedly, but Mary left to make the tea regardless.
Christine crossed to the fireplace. She wished they had made a fire. At least the flames would be something to watch, something to draw their attention away from the worried expressions in each other’s eyes. She squeezed at the back of her aching neck. Her eyes went again to the clock. Almost midnight. She agreed with her mother on one thing. It was not like Henry to keep them waiting without getting word to them— somehow. He would know their agitation and concern. It just wasn’t like Henry.
And he would know that the latchkey would not be out. That they would all be sitting, waiting for their arrival.
She crossed to her mother. “Would you like me to rub your neck?” she asked, knowing how her own felt and that Elizabeth loved to have her neck massaged.
Her mother didn’t even look up. “No,” she said tersely, then seemed to catch herself, giving Christine a forced smile with an added, “Not now, thanks.”
Christine withdrew.
Mary came with the tea. Everyone in the room accepted a cup, though no one seemed to pay any attention to its contents. They just sat holding it, absentmindedly watching the steam rise upward.
The phone rang and everyone in the room jumped. Jonathan was there in a few strides. “Yes. Yes. No—no, I’m afraid not. No. Very well.”
“A wrong number,” he said with a weary shrug. “Some guy’s spent too long at the tavern.”
Shoulders slumped with more fatigue.
Elizabeth set aside her cup and began to pace. “It’s just not—something’s not right,” she said, blinking back nervous tears. “Henry wouldn’t do this.”
Wynn rose and pulled her close. He held her for a long moment before saying, “I think you’re right, Elizabeth. Something must have happened that wasn’t planned. It isn’t like our son. I think we need to pray.”
Gently he eased her to the couch and sat down beside her. She was freely weeping now. He handed her his pocket handkerchief and let her wipe her tears. Then he took her hand and started to pray. The other family members in the room drew near and reached out hands to join in a circle, heads bowed, and tear-filled eyes closed.
“Lord, you know our concern. You know the circumstances of our son and his family. Whatever those circumstances, we ask for your divine intervention on their behalf. Be with them, Lord, wherever they are. Meet any needs that they might have at this hour. Bring them to us—safely—quickly. Quiet our hearts and minds as we wait. We admit our dependence on you, God, our need for your presence and peace. We thank you that we can trust you with all things. In the name of Jesus, your Son, amen.”
They looked up, drew gently apart, wiping tears from cheeks, blowing noses. Seeking to once again gain control of frayed emotions.
Christine saw the hands on the clock steadily ticking toward one in the morning.
“I think I’ll take that shoulder rub now,” her mother said with resolve. Christine moved forward to comply but was stopped by the sound of the doorbell. The entire room came alive.
“Thank you, Lord,” Christine heard her mother murmur as she sprang from the couch and moved toward the hall. Wynn followed closely behind her, Christine a few steps back.
Her mother flung open the door, words of relieved greeting already beginning. “Henry—”
A uniformed police officer stood in the arc of porch light— but not their Henry. He reached up and awkwardly pulled off his billed cap.
“Mrs. Delaney?” he asked hesitantly, shifting from one foot to the other.
Wynn reached for Elizabeth and nodded at the man.
“I’m sorry to inform you . . . your son and family have been in a motor vehicle accident.”
Christine saw her mother go limp in her father’s arms.
CHAPTER
Fourteen
Looking back on that ni
ght, it was hard to untangle the rest of the events. Somehow Christine and her folks got to the local hospital. Somehow they sorted through the scant details. Somehow they found themselves in Henry’s room, looking down on the swollen, bandaged face of the man who was their son and brother. The doctor hovering nearby informed them in a low but professional voice that Henry “sustained a blow to the head that has resulted in a concussion. The prognosis is good. The X-rays indicate that he can be expected to regain consciousness without much delay and should have no significant future problem.”
Sick with fear, Christine wondered just what that meant.
Elizabeth stood silently weeping beside Henry’s bed, one hand lovingly stroking his exposed arm where the IV needle fed something into his bloodstream.
“How are the others?” Christine heard her father ask, his voice husky with emotion.
“His wife is resting comfortably. We’ve given the boy a sedative to quiet him. He was understandably quite emotional.”
“We need to see them,” said Elizabeth, wiping her eyes. Christine was surprised at how brave and in control her mother had become.
“This way,” said the doctor.
Amber’s room was just down the hall. She, too, was swathed in bandages for the facial cuts the doctor told them about. She also had suffered a broken pelvis along with the cuts from flying glass. What they could see of Amber’s face was pale, but she was conscious. She reached out a hand to them, and tears began to fill her eyes. Elizabeth leaned over and held her, and they wept together.
“How . . . how are they?” she asked, brokenly.
“Danny is . . . is resting. They’ve given him something to help him sleep. Henry . . . will be fine. He got a bump on the head and he was cut up a bit—but he’ll be fine,” Elizabeth tried to reassure her daughter-in-law.
“It happened so quickly,” said Amber, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
“Just what happened?”
She shook her head. “I’m . . . I’m not really sure. We had just come into town—”
“You were in town—here?” Elizabeth sounded incredulous.
Amber nodded.
“We had arrived—shortly before ten, I think. Henry had . . . had just remarked that we’d made good time. We approached this intersection. Then I heard Henry say, ‘Oh no,’ or something like that, and when I looked up this car came smashing into us. I don’t . . . I don’t think I ever lost consciousness. I heard Danny screaming, but I couldn’t see him. I reached for Henry, but he was . . . he was limp. Draped over the steering wheel. I was so frightened. I thought he was dead.” Amber broke into sobs again while Elizabeth patted her shoulder. She finally was able to continue. “And then people started to come, and everyone was yelling and running, and soon I heard sirens. I knew help was on the way.
“I was so thankful when I saw a man checking Henry and heard him say, ‘He’s still breathing,’ but I was afraid he’d never make it to the hospital. There was blood all over and—”
“Shh,” whispered Elizabeth, holding the girl again. “Don’t talk about it. Try not to think about the accident. You’re all safe now. It’s going to be okay. Shh.”
Wynn moved close to take Amber’s hand while Christine stood back. Still. Mute. What was intended to be a great family celebration had turned into a tragic nightmare.
“I’m so worried,” whispered Amber. “We thought we were bringing you good news—now I’m so frightened—”
“What do you mean?” Christine saw her mother’s eyes wide with concern.
“We . . . wanted to tell you this together. We . . . we are going to have a baby.”
Elizabeth gave a little gasp, then hugged Amber as close as she dared.
“We . . . we were so excited. Henry wanted to tell you himself. That was one reason we came now. But after . . . after this I’m afraid I might lose it.” She was weeping again.
“Is the doctor aware—?” began Wynn, moving closer to the bed.
“Yes. Yes—I told him right away. He says they will do all they can, but the pelvis . . .” Amber blinked back tears.
Her injury suddenly had more significance.
“I was only eight weeks along. It’s so early. I . . . I really am afraid that—”
“You try to rest,” Elizabeth comforted, patting her daughter-in-law’s arm. “We are going to see Danny—then we’ll pop back in and sit with you.”
Danny was sound asleep with the help of the sedative. His face had two cuts. Other than that, he looked whole. They each whispered prayers of thanks. He was being held for observation, the doctor had said. If all was as expected, he could be released sometime in the afternoon.
They went back to Amber’s room. She seemed to have gotten herself well under control. Wynn left the women seated by her bed, telling them he would go out to the lobby to inform Jonathan and Mary of the situation. He soon was back with the two, and they made a brief tour to the three rooms and then were sent on their way home. There was nothing to be gained by them sitting out the night in the waiting room.
Then Wynn was gone again. At Elizabeth’s questioning look, he had said something about looking into the police report. Christine was sure her father wanted to find out exactly what had happened. And why had it taken so long for the family to be notified.
By the time he returned, Amber had finally managed to fall asleep and seemed to be resting comfortably. Elizabeth looked about to fall asleep in her chair.
“I think it best we go home and try to get some rest,” he advised. “We’ll need to be back later. Danny will be waking, and perhaps Henry—”
“I want to look in on Henry before we leave,” Elizabeth said quickly.
Wynn nodded.
With one last pat of Amber’s hand, Elizabeth rose from her chair. They walked to Henry’s room without conversation. He was just as they had left him. Christine noticed with thankfulness that his breathing sounded even. Elizabeth seemed to find it hard to leave the room. “Please be sure to call us the minute he awakens,” she informed the nurse at the station desk. The woman simply nodded.
Christine wondered if anyone would be able to get any sleep.
Word traveled quickly, and the family responded with shock and sorrow. The gathering became more like a somber funeral wake than the expected joyous reunion. Elizabeth grate- fully accepted all their expressions of sympathy.
“Oh, Aunt Beth,” said Kathleen, throwing her arms around her favorite aunt, tears on her cheeks. “I am so sorry.”
Elizabeth returned the warm hug, holding Kathleen close for a long time. When she finally pushed back, she brushed at tears. But her countenance was remarkably controlled. “It could have been much worse,” she said resolutely. “I feel our prayers were answered. God did protect them.”
“Exactly what happened?” queried William.
“Some fellow ran a stop sign, Wynn found out from the police report. He’d had a bit too much to drink and said he didn’t see it.”
“And I suppose he walked away intact?”
“Not even a cut.”
William shook his head.
“Hit them broadside on the passenger side,” Wynn explained. “Amber got the worst of it. Henry struck his head. They’re not sure on what. Danny was thrown around. He will be sore for a while, but nothing is broken.” Wynn ran a hand over the back of his neck. He had told Christine privately that he would not relax until Henry was out of the coma—but he dared not let Elizabeth sense his agitation.
Elizabeth now forced a smile around the group. “We are going over to General Hospital, but why don’t you just . . . just try to have your party? It’s not going to help for you all to be missing out on the fun of being together. Everyone is going to be okay. It will take a little time . . . but they’ll make it. We have so much to be thankful for. So . . . go ahead. Enjoy your time together. That’s the way Henry and Amber would want it.”
It was a brave speech. Christine admired her mother and hoped the family members would be able to fo
llow through with their plans.
The three headed back to the hospital as soon as they had downed some coffee. They didn’t feel much like eating anything.
Just as they neared the desk a nurse looked up. “I was about to call you,” she said. “I think your son is trying to wake up.”
They hurried to Henry’s room. The only indication that he was no longer in a deep sleep was an occasional groan and a movement of his head or hand. Wynn was the first to his side.
“Son. Son—can you hear me? We’re here. Your mother and I and Christine. Can you open your eyes, Henry? Do you hear me, son?”
Elizabeth crowded in close and began entreaties of her own. “Henry? Dear? Can you hear us? We’re here with you. Amber is okay. So is Danny. They are concerned about you. Are you awake?”
But Henry did not respond.
“I’m going to check on Amber and Danny,” Christine whispered, partly because she could not stand to watch their seemingly futile attempts.
She found Amber still sleeping. The nurse leaving her room cautioned, “She needs to rest. That’s the best thing for her right now.”
Christine nodded. She would not awaken her sister-in-law.
She moved on to Danny’s room. The little boy was just stirring. When he opened his eyes, he seemed totally confused. He looked about the strange room, then appeared greatly relieved when Christine came into his view.
“Where’s my mom?” he asked immediately.
“She is here. She is still sleeping.”
He looked puzzled. “Where is this? Is this Aunt Mary’s house?”
“No. This . . . this is a hospital.”
He pushed up from his pillow and grimaced. “Why did we come here?”
“Your mama and daddy are both here with you. There’re just . . . just in another bedroom,” said Christine, hoping to divert panic. She wasn’t sure what to say to the child.
“Why?” he asked. “Why didn’t we go to Aunt Mary’s house?” There was fear in his eyes.