by Clare Revell
“I wasn’t leaving,” she whispered.
Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter. He waved it at her. “What’s this then?” he demanded.
Her stomach twisted. No… “Where did you get that?”
“Dr. Andrews gave it to me—that’s why she wanted to see me. She said it had been left there for me.” He opened it and started reading. “Jack. This is the fourth attempt to write this. I can’t even do that properly and if I can’t even write a simple letter, what chance do I have of doing anything right ever again? That’s why it has to be this way. It is better for everyone if I go now, before things go anymore wrong or crazy than they already have. It’s not fair on the others or on Mum for things to carry on the way they are right now. It has to be this way, don’t you see? There is no other way. I can’t do this anymore. I have reached the limit of what I can cope with. It’s too dark, the arguments with myself too loud. I can’t move or breathe. It’s all encompassing, all embracing. There is no way out—except one. The decision has been made. Fear has gone. Emptiness remains. Joy defeated, life vanquished, sorrow victorious. No point in carrying on. Take care of Mum. Lou.”
Lou sighed. She should have thrown the stupid note away. Things had changed since she’d written that. “You weren’t supposed to get that. Why couldn’t she just keep out of things that don’t concern her?”
“Because it does concern her. You know, I’ve just about had it with you. Jim’s right. You’re nothing more than a spoilt brat. You’re rude and totally inconsiderate of other people’s feelings. You show no gratitude for what people do for you. The doctors here worked extremely hard to save your life, actually revived you several times, and this is how you repay them. You don’t even value your own life.”
Lou rolled her eyes. “You brought me here when I was dying—”
Jack shook his head. “You are not dying! The IV of antibiotics will deal with any residual infection. Your life isn’t over. It’s just changed. You just need time to adjust and learn to do things a little differently now, that’s all.”
“I know that now. Dr. Andrews told me, hours after I wrote that stupid letter. Then she made me go for a walk before I had a chance to throw it away.” Lou folded her arms across her chest defensively. “And I tried to tell you earlier, but you said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to hear it.’”
Jack raised an eyebrow at her poor American accent. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” She nodded. “You were too busy yelling at me and insisting that poor airman go write a report because he was in trouble for gossiping. You just assumed I was running away again.”
“Weren’t you?”
“No, actually I wasn’t. I was trying to see if I could push the wretched chair by myself. Dr. Andrews was going on and on about me being independent, so I figured I’d try it. Show her when I got back inside. But the stupid chair doesn’t have a reverse gear on it, so I was trying to find someplace to do a three-point turn. Only my hand got stuck and I tore out the IV somehow, and when I bent down to pick it up, the stupid chair overbalanced and I fell. Then you came and…” She shrugged.
“Why didn’t you ask Airman Ryder to go with you? He would have helped.”
“He was busy talking, and I didn’t want to disturb him. Bad enough I’m stuck in here without being totally dependent on everyone for everything.” She sighed. “And asking for help kind of defeats the ‘getting you independent’ bit she keeps going on about.”
“Oh, honey,” Jack said. “It’s early days yet. We’re here to help as much as we can, but you have to let us show you how to do these things before you can begin to master them. You’re not on your own, no matter how much it feels like it.”
Lou took a deep breath. Maybe he’d listen without condemning her. “It’s bad, Jack. There’s darkness everywhere. There is no way out. I can’t do this. Don’t you sit there and judge me either. You don’t know what it’s like to have everything taken away from you. To no longer be able to do things without help—simple things like going to the bathroom are impossible now. So don’t you dare sit there and tell me how I should feel, because you don’t know or understand how bad life gets. Or what it’s like to know you must have done something really bad, because God obviously hates you so much that He did this to you.”
Jack stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. “There you go again. That’s just plain rude. You want to know what bad really is? Bad is sitting on a hillside in the Gulf after being shot down, holding your best friend in your arms. Watching him bleed to death from a massive head wound, while waiting for the rescue choppers, which never came in time. It took Will two hours to die. All I could do was hold him in my arms and tell him help was coming. Wars may change, but the pain of losing a friend never does. Or family.”
Lou swallowed hard. “Family?” she asked.
Something dark shone in Jack’s eyes for an instant before he continued. “My son, Billy. He was a cute little guy with blond hair—looked like his mom. He came home from school one day complaining he didn’t feel well. He said the light hurt his eyes and that his head ached. Erin put him to bed. When I got home from work, he was still complaining his head hurt. That night, he started being sick.”
He paused and gazed out of the window. “We dialed 9-1-1 and they rushed him to hospital. He was unconscious by the time we got there. They said he had meningitis. He died in my arms a few hours later.” He whirled round and looked at her. His eyes glistened with tears. “Billy was seven when God took him. He’ll never have the chances you’ve got. He’ll never see another sunset or rainbow, never hear the birds sing or the waves crashing on the shore. He’ll never go swimming or throw snowballs. There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t miss him.”
He crossed the room and sat on the bed. He grabbed her hands. “I would give anything to have him back. Even in a wheelchair. I blamed God for taking him, the doctors for not saving him, Erin for not calling them or me sooner, me for not being there. But it was no one’s fault. Not mine, not Erin’s, not the doctors, and not God’s.”
“Who’s Erin?”
“She was my wife. After Billy died, she wanted a divorce. She said there was nothing to keep us together anymore, that a fresh start would be the best thing for the both of us. We argued. She slammed out of the house and drove the car over a cliff. Deliberately, the police think, because there weren’t any skid marks, and there weren’t any other vehicles involved. If we hadn’t argued, then maybe...” His voice caught and he paused.
He rubbed his hands over his face. “So I do know what it’s like to be stuck in the darkness, Lou. I’ve been there for a long time. I spent hours going over that final conversation with Erin, before she killed herself. Were there any warning signs? Did I miss something? Could I have stopped her? It’s the people left behind that pay the price. Trust me on that. I thought my life ended when Billy and Erin died. I had to bury my wife and son within two weeks of each other. I live with the regrets every day. And your mom knows what it’s like as well. She was a mess after you and the others left.”
Lou pointed to her legs. “What about this?”
“What about it? Seems to me you’re more scared of what could happen now, rather than the actual injury itself.”
She caught her breath. He was spot on there. “A little,” she said, downplaying it.
“Only a little? What are you scared of? Being laughed at? Ignored? Teased? What?”
Lou shrugged. “Not being me. I’m not normal anymore. I want to be able to run and walk and do things for myself. When I want to do them, not when someone has a spare five minutes to fit me in. And I’d got my life mapped out. I can’t exactly be the next great archaeologist now, can I?”
Jack rolled his eyes at her bad pun, then took her hand. “Lou, honey. Like I said earlier, it’s early days yet. You gotta give yourself time to adjust, just like anyone does after losing a limb. This chair will make a huge difference. We can teach you easily how to get in an
d out of it. How to get into the bathroom and so on.”
Lou picked at a nail. “I know being in a military hospital, they’re used to this kind of injury, but…”
“Everyone feels like you do at first. Happy to be alive, but mourning the loss of part of them. It’s a normal, healthy reaction.”
“Are you sure?” she whispered.
“Yes. But this isn’t the end of the road. It’s just the start. There are other options once you’re a little stronger. Doc Andrews said you could walk again.”
“You mean crutches again? Or they’ll give me a wooden leg?”
“Oh man, you missed your chance. We were going to have you fitted with a peg leg, eye patch, and stuffed parrot and turn you into a pirate.” He grinned as she pulled a face at him. “Seriously, prosthetic limbs are slightly more sophisticated these days.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” Jack lifted the leg of his uniform.
Her eyes widened at Jack’s leg. Wow, he could run and everything. She’d never have guessed in a million years that he only had one leg. “How did you lose it? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Chopper crash soon after basic training. Once I was out of rehab, I was back at work, determined to learn how to fly choppers so no one could ever crash one on me again.” Jack smiled. “You’ll be able to be that famous archaeologist or win your Olympic medal yet. You’ll see the sun rise and build snowmen. You can do all that in a wheelchair, never mind with a new leg. Don’t give up.”
“May as well. I’ve hurt too many people and now God is punishing me for it.”
Jack sighed. “No, He’s not. God doesn’t do that. He loves us too much for that. Lou, you can’t just give up. You have to fight.”
“Already lost that fight.”
“No, you haven’t. You just need a little help. It’s not failure to admit you can’t cope. All you have to do is ask.” He glanced at his watch, stood up, and went behind the chair.
“Jim told me that once.”
“Then take it from the both of us.”
“Where are we going?” Lou asked as he pulled her backward into the corridor. He locked the door and swung her round.
“Back to the infirmary because it’s almost 1530,” he answered. “I want you to do some serious thinking when we get there. I’ll come by and see you later. You can’t decide to do this for me or for your mom. You have to do it for yourself.”
They crossed the car park. It was overcast and getting dark. It was also trying to rain. Almost as if the weather were mimicking the storm inside her. Lou glanced over her shoulder. “What do I do, Jack?”
“I can’t tell you that. You either fight or you give in. Giving in means a feeding tube or the psych ward…or both, depending on Doc Andrews. Though she may relent when you explain to her that you weren’t doing a runner or trying to kill yourself. However, either way, it’s your choice. There are people here who love you very much and would miss you terribly if you weren’t here. They may not show it as much or as often as you need, but they care very much about what happens to you.”
The guard on the main door opened it for them. Jack pushed her to the lifts. He pressed the call button. “And I’ll tell you something else. You’re not alone.” The lift came and he pushed her inside. He hit the floor button. “It may feel like you’re the only person for miles, but I can assure you that you’re not. If you want help, or just someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on, I’m here. All you have to do is ask. It’s not a crime to admit you need someone now and again. And another thing. God doesn’t hate you.”
The lift doors opened and they went down the corridor in silence. Jack backed through the infirmary doors and pushed her across to her bed. He lifted her onto the bed and pulled up the covers. “Want to sit up or lie down?”
“Lying down sounds good. Been sat up for hours and I’m not used to it.”
He winked. “Getting soft spending far too much time in bed. We’ll have to change that. I’ll come back and see you after dinner.”
She nodded, glad to be lying down again. “Will you be on your own?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Yes, it is.” Lou caught his arm and looked at him. “Jack.”
“Yes?”
“Help me please. I can’t do it on my own.”
“I’ll help. You do some thinking while I’m gone. And eat something.”
“Aye, sir.”
No sooner had Jack left, than General Merrick came over and sat beside her. “I heard about your escape attempt,” she began firmly.
“I wasn’t…” Lou began, but at the look in the general’s eye, she was tempted to shut up. Sometimes not saying anything was the best option. But let’s face it, she’d gotten Airman Ryder into hot water and it wasn’t fair he should be in trouble because of her. She explained her side of things quietly.
General Merrick listened and then began speaking just as quietly.
Usually Lou would have switched off, but Jack’s words had woken something within her. So for one of the few times in her life, she really listened. Her face burned and her stomach churned.
“You now have an escort—Sergeant Whitlock,” the general finished. “She will not let you out of her sight.”
After General Merrick left and Sergeant Whitlock took up post by the door, Lou lay back on her pillows deep in thought. I made a mistake and I’m paying the price for it now. If I leave, then other people will pay the price. She finally understood what Jack had told her all those weeks ago. Grief is the price you pay for love. So many things had happened because of the decisions she had made. So many people hurt, so many lives altered because of her. Once more, the cloud descended, but this time, she knew that help was only a shout away.
14
An hour later, Dr. Andrews crossed the infirmary to Lou. “How are you doing?” she asked.
“I could do with a couple of codeine tablets,” Lou said. “Please,” she added.
“I think I can go stronger than codeine. Would you like some dinner?”
“Jack already made me eat lunch.”
“Lunch was hours ago. Wanna try that one again? I have a nice feeding tube with your name on it otherwise. It doesn’t have to be much, just a little.”
Lou sucked in a deep breath. “Chips, if they have them—or fries or whatever you call them. And I’d love a cup of tea. That one earlier was nice.”
Dr. Andrews smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. Let’s sit you up a bit.”
“Thank you.” She leaned against the pillows as the head of the bed raised her upwards.
“I won’t be long.”
Lou watched her go. She glanced down at her legs—well, leg and a half. It was weird. She could still feel it. Half the pain she felt was from the limb that wasn’t there. And her toes still itched. The pain was real enough; just there was no reason for it. She turned her thoughts to what Jack had said. He made a lot of sense for a grown-up, she decided.
Dr. Andrews came back with a tray of food and a syringe. “One mug of tea, along with sausages, peas, and fries.”
“Peas are evil,” Lou told her. “Little green balls of pure nastiness.”
“So don’t eat the peas.” She put the tray on the table and injected the morphine into the cannula. “It should start to work soon,” she said, pulling the table across the bed. “I’ll set the morphine pump up again in a while. Jim’s here to see you if you feel up to it.”
Lou nodded, not minding the fact there was more on the plate than she’d asked for. “Sure. So long as I can eat at the same time.”
Dr. Andrews said, “Don’t see why not.” She left Lou and beckoned Jim over.
Jim came across and sat by the bed. “Those chips smell good,” he said. “Can I have one?”
“Are you here for the chips or me?” Lou asked.
He thought for a minute. “Lou or chips? Lou. Chips. Difficult one. Um...the chips.”
“That’s what I thought. Help yourself. A
nd you can have all the peas.”
Jim took one of the chips and ate it slowly.
“How was the beach?” Lou asked. She stabbed one of the sausages with the fork and bit into it.
Jim smiled. “Your mum is brilliant at beach volleyball. We beat the pants off the other team, thanks to her. How was your day?”
Lou shrugged. “It went. Jim, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he replied, taking another chip.
“Am I a particularly bad person? I mean, is God punishing me for running away?”
Jim looked at her curiously. “Because you lost your leg?”
“Amongst other things. Have the other sausage, because I won’t eat it.”
“OK, thanks.” He took the sausage. “And to answer your question, no,” Jim replied emphatically, shaking his head. “God doesn’t work like that. He loves you. He wouldn’t take away your leg to punish you. Any more than my parents being caught in the tsunami or your dad being killed or Deefer dying was a punishment either. God may have allowed the injury to get your attention, but He certainly isn’t punishing you.”
Lou finished the chips. “But how do I know He loves me?”
“Because He sent His only Son, Jesus, to die for you.”
Lou looked at Jim. “If He loves me that much, then why did this happen? How can a God who loves me, this great, loving, and good God, do this? Was He asleep? Busy elsewhere?”
“Lou, God never sleeps. He is always watching over you. Psalm 139:2–4 says so. He always does what is best for you. He knows what is good for you and that is what He does. Even though it may not seem like it at the time.”
Lou snorted. “Hah. You got that right.”
Jim looked at her. “Lou. God does love you. He knows how you feel.”
“Prove it. Prove that He loves me. Prove to me He knows what I’m feeling.” She broke off and looked up as Jack came across.
“Hi,” he said. “Am I interrupting?”