The Gathering Place

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Then I just can’t believe that selling to Crown seems the preferable choice,” she said in a cutting tone. “I guess that makes it hurt even more.”

  Before he could say another word, she pulled away from him and rushed out. Dan stood at the back of the empty office, watching her pass in front of the windows. Though it was just past noon, the sky was so dark it looked like dusk.

  Snow had begun to fall, he noticed. The weather report predicted it would get messy later, but right now it was benign enough, feathery flakes coating everything in a soft layer of white. He hated the first weeks of January, the holidays over and a long, dull winter stretching out ahead.

  I can’t wait to get away, Dan thought glumly. Away from the paper—and everyone around here. Why is everyone so mad at me? Why is everybody yelling at me, then running away? Wyatt, Lindsay, even Emily out on the beach Saturday.

  He thought of Lindsay’s accusations and rejected them at once. He didn’t walk around with blinders on. She made him sound like . . . like an old broken-down plow horse. No, not a horse. A mule. A plodding, stubborn old mule.

  Dan sat down hard and put his head in his hands. He felt so alone in this now. Everyone seemed to have lined up against him. It just didn’t seem fair.

  CAROLYN HAD BEEN TEACHING LAUREN WILLOUGHBY A SIMPLE PIECE BY Brahms these past few lessons. Lauren was coming along well, but Carolyn suspected she hadn’t practiced very much in the last week or so, with the holidays and school recess. Carolyn watched her stumble over the last two bars on the page, then she finally interrupted her playing.

  “Wait, dear. Let’s stop just a minute right there. Those are eighth notes, remember? You want to hit the keys like this, quick and crisp.” Carolyn put her hands to the keys and demonstrated on the lower end of the piano. “And don’t forget your fingering. You’ll get yourself all muddled up—”

  Just then, she heard the phone ring. She listened intently as the machine in the kitchen picked up the message.

  “Carolyn? Are you there? It’s Jack,” the voice said.

  “My son-in-law, Jack. I need to get this,” Carolyn said to Lauren, as she rose and headed for the phone.

  “—Rachel’s ready. We’re about to go to the hospital,” he continued.

  Carolyn finally reached the phone and picked it up, feeling breathless. “Jack, are you still there?”

  “Oh, there you are,” he said, sounding relieved. “We just spoke to the doctor. He thinks she’s ready to go in. Here, I’ll put her on,” he said.

  “Hi, Mom. We’re going now,” Rachel said, sounding bright, but a bit nervous. “I don’t feel that bad, yet, honestly.”

  “Good, that’s good then,” Carolyn said in an encouraging tone. You will, though, she wanted to add. But she stopped herself. Every woman has a different experience, and nobody really remembers the worst of it afterward.

  “It won’t be long now, honey. I’ll call your father and let him know what’s going on. Are you sure you don’t want us to wait at the hospital? We’d be happy to,” she reminded her.

  “Yes, I know, Mom. But Jack will be with me, and the doctor said it might take a few hours or more. You know, first birth. I guess I’d feel better if you just waited at home. Jack will call you as soon as the baby is born.”

  “All right, dear. We’ll come right away. I understand,” Carolyn told her. She really wished she could wait at the hospital, but it was Rachel’s decision. “I love you, honey. I know everything is going to go perfectly.”

  “I love you, too, Mom,” Rachel said. “Jack will call you later and let you know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Carolyn promised. And praying for an easy time of it, she silently added. They said good-bye and Carolyn hung up, feeling a chill sweep through her body. Her hands were ice cold, she realized, rubbing them together. She was so excited now that the news had come, she actually felt light-headed.

  She dialed Ben’s office but only reached the church secretary, Irene Mills, who told her that Ben had gone to visit an elderly parishioner at a nursing home in Tewksbury.

  “Oh dear. Well, if you hear from him, let him know I called, would you? Rachel’s just left for the hospital,” she told Irene.

  Tewksbury? That had to be at least sixty miles away, Carolyn realized with distress.

  Irene promised to relay the message and wished Rachel luck. Carolyn hung up, only to see Lauren watching her from the hallway, a questioning look on her face.

  “I’m sorry, Lauren. I didn’t mean to forget you in there.”

  “That’s okay. Did Rachel have her baby?”

  “No, not yet. She’s just on her way to the hospital. But it won’t be long now.” Carolyn checked her watch. Ten more minutes at least before Lauren’s mother came to pick her up.

  “Let’s go inside and see if we can make any more headway today with Mr. Brahms,” she said, touching Lauren’s shoulder, though Carolyn sincerely doubted she could focus on Lauren’s efforts for three notes in a row.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CAROLYN FELT AS IF SHE HAD BEEN SITTING BY THE PHONE FOREVER. It had been almost two hours since Rachel and Jack had called. She hadn’t heard from Jack, yet, or even Ben. She’d been after him to get a cell phone, but he couldn’t stand them. He would joke that if there was ever anything really important he needed to know, God would get a message to him.

  Carolyn wondered if the heavenly switchboard was in operation this afternoon. It was hard to just sit and wait. She’d been outside twice, cleaning the snow off her car and shoveling the driveway, so she could get the car out easily when Jack called. She’d felt a bit light-headed and breathless after both trips but hadn’t really minded the exercise. At least it gave her something to do.

  She sat with her boots and hat on, her coat and bag by her side. She didn’t know if she could stand it much longer.

  With her cold hands wrapped around a mug of tea, she stared out the window. The snow was falling heavily now. She hoped Jack and Rachel had reached the hospital without any problem. Again, she told herself not to worry. Jack knew how to drive in snow. He’d lived here his whole life.

  The phone rang, and Carolyn snatched it up.

  “Hello, Carolyn? It’s me,” Jack said. “I thought I should call you—”

  She could tell from his voice it wasn’t good news. “What is it, Jack? What’s happened?”

  “Well, there are some complications. The baby must have turned since Rachel’s last sonogram. He’s not facing the right way, so he’s sort of stuck.”

  “Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound good. . . .” Carolyn felt dizzy and sick to her stomach, as if she might black out. She forced herself to focus and took a deep breath. “How is Rachel?”

  “Rachel’s holding up okay. She’s a trooper. But she thinks you ought to come now. She wants you to.”

  “Yes, right away. I’ll be there in no time. What are they going to do, a C-section?”

  “The doctor said it’s too late for that. The baby is too far down the birth canal. They have to do something quickly, though. The baby is under stress. His heartbeat is erratic—”

  Carolyn didn’t want to hear another word. “I’m coming right away. Tell Rachel I’m on my way.”

  Jack thanked her and hung up. Carolyn stared around the silent kitchen a moment, wondering what to do first. She pulled on her coat and grabbed her car keys. Then she remembered Ben hadn’t called yet. He might not even know. She grabbed a pad from the counter and started writing him a note.

  Just then the phone rang. She grabbed at it and said hello, praying it wasn’t Jack with more bad news.

  “Carolyn? I just called Rachel’s house,” Ben said. “There’s no one home. . . . Is it happening?”

  “Oh, Ben, thank goodness it’s you.” Carolyn sagged with relief. “Yes, she’s at the hospital, but it’s not going well, Ben. There are complications. The baby is stuck in the birth canal.”

  She tried to deliver the message calmly, but she knew her voice
sounded on the edge of panic.

  “Oh, no! That is bad news. How is she doing?”

  “Jack said she’s doing well, under the circumstances. But she wants us to be there with them now. I was just on my way out the door. Where are you? Can you meet me?”

  “I’m not far, up in Tewksbury,” he said, and Carolyn’s heart sank. He was still there. He’d have a slow trip back with the snow. “The roads are bad. I don’t want you out driving alone in this, Carolyn, especially under the circumstances. Wait for me to get home. We’ll go together.”

  “I’m sorry, Ben. I just can’t wait. Rachel needs me. I have a bad feeling about this,” she confided, feeling ready to weep.

  “Dear, please. It’s going to be okay. Doctors can do the most amazing things now delivering babies—”

  “I know, but it doesn’t sound good, Ben. I promised Rachel I’d be there as fast as possible. She’s counting on me. I can’t wait. You’ll have to meet me there.”

  He didn’t answer, and she almost thought they’d been disconnected. Then finally he said, “I can tell you’ll probably leave anyway, even if you try to wait. I’ll meet you. I’m on my way. And Carolyn, drive safely, please.”

  “Yes, I will, Ben. I promise. You, too,” she said. Then, before hanging up the phone, she added, “I think we should call Mark. I think he needs to know what’s happening.”

  Again, she waited for his reply. “Yes, he needs to know. But don’t worry about that now. You get on the road. I’ll call him when I get to the hospital,” he promised.

  They said good-bye, and Carolyn rushed out the door. She jumped in her car and started the engine. While it warmed up a moment and the wipers went to work, she closed her eyes and said a short prayer out loud. “Please God, let everything work out all right with the baby, and let Rachel and the child come through this unharmed.”

  She clipped on her seat belt and slowly backed out of the driveway. Her tires crunched in the deep layer of fresh snow, and the car fishtailed a little as she turned it to head down the street. But once outside of the village and on the main road, the driving was easier, and she relaxed a bit.

  Carolyn had been on the road for about fifteen minutes, feeling frustrated that she had to drive so much slower than usual, when she felt a strange tingling in her arm. She took her hand off the steering wheel and shook her arm, flexing her fingers. I must have strained a muscle shoveling the snow, she thought. I’m so out of shape. She knew she hadn’t felt anything odd at the time, but these things could creep up on you afterward.

  Then, suddenly, she felt as if she couldn’t get a deep breath. She opened her jacket and even opened the window, mindless of the snow and cold air rushing in at her. The air didn’t help. She felt a hot wave of dizziness and then a piercing pain in her head, like something popping inside. The sight in one eye went black. She blinked but couldn’t bring it back.

  “Dear God! What’s happening to me?” she cried out loud. She hit the emergency warning flashers and struggled to slow the car down and steer it over to the shoulder of the road.

  As the car coasted, Carolyn blacked out, her head dropping to the steering wheel. The horn blared under her body weight, a deafening sound, but she didn’t stir.

  The car bumped along unguided for a few yards, then, as if in slow motion, it plowed into a chain-link fence.

  WHEN BEN REACHED THE HOSPITAL IN SOUTHPORT, HE WENT STRAIGHT to the maternity ward. He knew every wing of the hospital from the many times he had gone there to visit members of his congregation.

  He walked up to the nursing station just outside the labor area. “I’m Reverend Ben Lewis. My daughter, Rachel, came in this afternoon,” he said. “I think my wife must be here by now,” he added.

  “Oh, Reverend Lewis . . .” The nurse looked down at some papers on her desk. Her grim expression set off instant alarm bells. Something awful had happened to Rachel and the baby, he just knew it.

  But before he could ask, the nurse said, “You need to go down to the emergency room. I’m sorry, sir. Your wife was just brought in.”

  “My wife? No, you don’t understand. I’m here for my daughter, Rachel Anderson. She’s having a baby. There were complications—”

  Just then Jack came through a door that read, “Labor Area—No Admittance.”

  He walked toward Ben with a grave expression on his face. “Ben.” Ben felt his son-in-law grip his shoulders. “I have some bad news. It’s Carolyn. It looks like she’s had a stroke. She’s downstairs in the surgical unit. We’ve all been waiting for you. They need to operate.”

  “Carolyn? No!” he shouted, as if his adamant refusal could change this bleak reality.

  Ben felt as if the room were spinning in circles. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t see straight. He realized he must have sat down—or collapsed—in a chair because suddenly Jack was crouched down next to him.

  “Are you all right? Do you need a doctor?” he asked quietly.

  “No, I’m fine,” Ben insisted, though he was anything but. He came to his feet, trying to orient himself. “Where do I go?” he asked Jack abruptly.

  “To the third floor. I’ll go with you,” Jack said, taking his arm.

  “But what about Rachel? How is Rachel? And the baby?” he asked, suddenly remembering his daughter.

  “She’s fine. She’s resting now,” Jack reported, as he led Ben to the elevators. “The baby was born about fifteen minutes ago. I haven’t told her about Carolyn. I’ll tell her as soon as she wakes up again,” Jack added. “They had to take him out with instruments. It was frightening for a while,” he admitted. “But he’s all right.”

  “Thank God for that,” Ben said, breathing heavily.

  “Yes, thank God,” Jack repeated. The elevator doors slid open, and the two men entered. They were the only ones inside, and Ben prayed silently, passionately, for his wife’s well-being. Please don’t take her from me, Lord. Please let her live. Please have mercy on us. A silent cry to heaven rose up from his heart.

  Down on the third floor, Ben was brought together with the attending physician and surgeon on call. They quickly explained Carolyn’s condition, which they diagnosed as a cerebral hemorrhage. They took him into a darkened room and showed him some X rays of Carolyn’s skull.

  “This is the clot right here,” Dr. Whittaker, the surgeon, pointed out. “Not stupendous in size, but it’s doing some damage. We’ve got to get it out before it does any more.” He turned to Ben. “She was lucky, actually. She must have felt the stroke coming on and was able to pull her car over in time.”

  “The car rolled into a fence,” the other physician, Dr. Lin, said. “There were no injuries from the collision. We’ve run all the tests. We know what we need to know. She needs surgery, Reverend. Immediately.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Whatever you think has to be done, do it,” Ben said, feeling overwhelmed. “What . . . what are her chances? Will she live?” he forced himself to ask.

  “The chances of her surviving the surgery are good,” Dr. Whittaker answered. “But we have no idea what state she’ll be in if she makes it through. She may never come out of the coma. And if she does, there may be complications. Her speech, vision, mobility, and even mental faculties may be impaired. At this point, we have no way of guessing the extent of the damage—or if it’s reversible.”

  “Yes . . . I understand.” Ben nodded, feeling numb. He felt Jack’s hand, heavy on his shoulder, but he didn’t even glance at his son-in-law. “Can I see her?”

  “Yes, of course. We’re prepping her for surgery. But you can go in for a moment.”

  Ben followed the two doctors and soon found himself behind a curtained area. Carolyn was lying in a hospital bed, attached to an array of frightening-looking tubes and machines. Her head had been shaved and her scalp painted with some reddish-brown disinfectant.

  Ben walked toward her, feeling as if he were in a dream. Her face looked strangely peaceful, he thought, as if she were in the midst of a dream. A very pleasant one,
from the looks of it, the opposite of his.

  He sighed and took her hand, then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “My darling,” he whispered. “I love you so very much. I don’t know what I’d do without you. . . . Please don’t leave us,” he begged.

  He heard someone behind him and turned to see two nurses in blue scrubs. “I’m sorry, Reverend. You have to go now,” one of them said in a soft tone. “There’s a special waiting room for surgery. The nurse outside will show you,” she said kindly.

  “Thank you.” He nodded and took one more lingering look at Carolyn before he left. “God bless you, my love,” he whispered to her.

  Ben turned to Jack as they reached the special waiting room for family members of surgery patients.

  “Rachel,” Ben said sadly. “She might be awake again by now. You’ll need to tell her what’s happening.” In his heart he wished there were some way to spare his daughter this news.

  Jack agreed and left him, promising he’d be back soon. Ben took a seat in the waiting room. It was practically empty. There were clusters of empty blue chairs, a table of magazines and newspapers. A coffeemaker with Styrofoam cups piled next to it stood nearby. Ben looked up at the TV that hung from the upper corner of one wall. He recognized the face of a famous newscaster, but he turned away, unable to watch.

  He got up and went out into the hall, glancing around to get his bearings. Then he took the elevator to the first floor, and when he got out, he walked down the nearest hallway and found the hospital’s small chapel.

  It was dark and shadowy inside, except for a few small lights behind the stark, modern-looking altar. There were three rows of pews, and he sat in the last one at the back. There he knelt down and closed his eyes to pray.

  Dear God, please hear my prayers. Please help me through this ordeal. This has to be the worst night of my life. Please let me feel your presence in my heart. . . . The voice inside his head trailed off. He bit down on his lip, feeling empty, frustrated, and scared. He didn’t feel in touch with God tonight. He felt himself reaching out, grasping, into emptiness.