by Pat Simmons
Curious about her mother’s quick knowledge, Shari reached for the 3-D baby book she had received from Dr. Brecee Carmen, now the family’s resident board-certified pediatrician, and searched the pages. Her jaw dropped when she read about the baby’s latest developmental milestones. “Mom, you remember each week after all these years?”
Laughing, her mother swatted a hand in the air. “By the fourth pregnancy, I could recite the information back to my doctor. Of course, I had to brush up on my notes when Stacy had TJ.”
Snickers filled the room. Her mother had everyone going for a minute. Shari rubbed her stomach, hoping to make the baby move again, or just to let him know she was there.
“All I know is, I want two boys…maybe three,” she said.
“Three? You haven’t delivered one yet.” Queen lifted a brow.
“I know.” She paused when Garrett brought her a glass of milk. She looked into his eyes and saw all the love she could ever ask for. “But I want handsome sons like their daddy.” That comment earned her another kiss.
“Saul wanted two daughters,” Shari’s mother said. “He got his wish, plus two bonuses.”
“Enough about baby talk,” Moses said, halting the conversation. “Both our families are here, and so are our instruments. Seems to me we should have a friendly battle of the bands between family.”
“Challenge accepted,” Garrett said with a smirk.
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Deborah teased her brother.
“My wife’s, of course.”
When building their home, they had included a designated music room, set up with a small stage for the purpose of family get-togethers. There were twelve seats set up like a home theater. Once everyone had assembled in the room, Shae settled behind the drum set, Brecee got out her guitar, and Stacy slid onto the piano bench. Even their mother warmed up on her flute. Garrett and his grandfather strapped on their saxophones. Jamal tapped expectantly on his Congas. It seemed everyone was in place.
Unfortunately, Shari had to opt out, under the urging of her husband. The sound was like music to her ears. Even the most skilled drum line had nothing on the Carmen/Miller music duo. The baby kicked in response when Garrett played a solo on the sax. Shari smiled and caressed her stomach, wondering which instrument her son would be drawn to.
After they had covered a repertoire of classical, R&B, jazz, and gospel selections, Shari yawned. That was when Garrett stopped playing and politely informed their families that he was going to get her to bed. “You’re welcome to stay,” he told them, “but the party is officially over.”
Chapter 38
The baby books and Lamaze classes were nothing like the real thing. Garrett sympathized with his wife as she pushed, paused, and panted, as instructed, until she was exhausted. If it were possible, he would bear their child himself.
Seated at her bedside in the hospital, Garrett massaged the damp hair away from her face. “I love you, Shari. It will be over soon, and Garrison will be in our arms.”
“I know. I keep reminding myself of that with each contraction.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I love you, too, G.”
Her voice was so weak, her stomach swollen with the gift God had promised them. Shari had gained more weight than the doctor had wanted her to, and she and Garrett were preparing to welcome a big baby boy into the world. The monitors interrupted his musings, alerting Garrett that another contraction was gaining momentum. But Shari didn’t stir.
Glancing at the monitor, Garrett frowned. That had to hurt. Concern filled his mind as the door to Shari’s hospital room slammed open. A group of doctors and nurses raced inside. They took one look at Shari and adjusted the knobs on the machine.
Garrett shot up from his chair. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” But his questions were ignored as the medical personnel worked quickly.
When he heard someone say, “We’re losing her,” he lost it and roared, “No!”
“Mr. Nash, we may have to take the baby,” Dr. Johnson informed him calmly. “We can’t control Mrs. Nash’s blood pressure.”
Garrett panicked. “But my wife is going to be okay, right?” He’d never known fear like this.
The doctor didn’t answer right away, since she was busy tending to Shari. “For now,” she finally said in an offhand manner.
“And the baby? Is my baby okay?”
“We’ll do everything in our power to make sure of it. Please join your family outside.”
“Please join your family outside”? Was the doctor delirious? Garrett couldn’t leave his wife when she needed him most. His feet wouldn’t move as he tried to sneak another peek at Shari, but the doctors and nurses hid her from his view.
Garrett felt light-headed and began to hyperventilate. Someone ushered him out of the room, down the hall, and into a waiting room where a group of family members were gathered. “Something’s wrong,” he mumbled over and over.
His grandfather’s first word when he saw Garrett was “Jesus.” Then Garrett heard whispered prayers rising up from several people.
Shari’s mother reached out and hugged him. “What’s going on?” she asked softly.
Shaking his head, Garrett struggled to get his words out. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“I’m sure everything will be all right,” Stacy told him. “Ted nearly fainted when I was in labor for nineteen hours. It’ll be okay.” Her smile gave him little comfort.
His vision blurred, but he couldn’t blink—it was as if he was in a trance. He tried to keep himself composed, but in reality, he was losing it. Lord, please bless my wife and my son. You promised. Please, God.
“While we wait, let’s pray,” his grandfather spoke up.
Garrett linked hands with his grandfather and Annette. He couldn’t control the tremors in his body. Was he about to have a seizure? As Shae began to sniff, her husband, Rahn, wrapped his arms around her. Ted cleared his throat before grabbing hold of Stacy’s hand. Brecee, usually the most vocal of the Carmen sisters, was unusually quiet, her head bowed. As the medical doctor in the family, did she understand what was going on?
Before Garrett could ask her, his grandfather began the prayer. “Father God, in the mighty name of Jesus, we come boldly to Your throne of grace, where we give You thanks above all for this joyous occasion. We bless Your name for anointing the marriage of my grandson Garrett and his beautiful wife, Shari. Now, Lord, we stand before You in need of grace and mercy for Shari and little Garrison. They’re in trouble, and the doctors can do only so much. Lord, You are a God of testimonies, and we need one right now. We know that in You alone are life and healing, so we ask You to speak healing, Jesus….”
As the petitions were lifted up, the presence of the Lord descended and encamped around them. Their prayers quieted at the same moment Garrett’s soul trembled, not from fear, but from comfort and hope. He knew that God had heard them.
Know that I am God. I created the heavens, the earth, and all that dwell upon the earth…. His voice seemed to shake the room.
Garrett listened in awe until he felt another presence among them. His body tensed. “Lord, something’s not right. I feel it. What is it, God?”
God continued to speak, but Garrett was distracted. “God, protect us,” he prayed. “Whatever is in this room, I can’t see it, but I know something undesirable is here. Protect us, God.”
Be not afraid, for I am the Lord thy God.
Mixed emotions raced through Garrett. Suddenly his natural eyes were heavy to the point that he couldn’t open them. Meanwhile, in the spiritual realm, he came face-to-face with something a Star Trek fan would have labeled as eerie. He saw a long black robe draped over a figure; a hood covered its face, and the arms moved within the sleeves, but he saw no hands.
“God, what just came into this room?”
Death.
The wailing in the room crescendoed. Everyone was in the spiritual realm with Garrett.
“Why is he here?” he asked of the Lord. �
�What does he want?” Garrett continued to question the Lord.
He’s waiting on Me. I’m waiting on you.
Me? “God, please don’t take my son. Not my boy, not my firstborn.” He began to sob. “You promised me that You would bless the womb of my wife….”
I came for your wife.
All the air was sucked out of Garrett’s body. Had he heard right? “You said Shari was my season. Jesus, I can’t bear her season coming to a close so soon. Not my wife, either!”
The hooded being didn’t bulge. Garrett’s mind raced through the Scriptures. Surely, he could recall one about God’s goodness and mercy. Why was the Lord giving him this option? How could he make a decision over a life—the life of his wife? Garrett was not in the proper mind to utter anything at the moment.
Suddenly, he remembered a point from the sermon Bishop Jackson had preached during Garrett’s last trip to Boston. “Should a man tell God no? Saints shouldn’t have anything they aren’t ready to give to God if He asks.”
Garrett wished he could see the face of Jesus—the gateway to God clothed in flesh—look Him in the eye, and offer anything as a sacrifice…just not his wife or his son. He would be willing to die to save them both.
I’ve already shed My blood so that all men might be saved, God rebutted, whispering from Hebrews 9:12–14.
Every movement in the room, even the air, seemed to pause in time. Opening his eyes, Garrett wasn’t surprised to see everyone looking at him. Another phrase from Bishop Jackson’s sermon rang in his ears: “The saints shouldn’t covet anything that, if God wants it, they don’t have a heart and mind to give it to Him.” Garrett’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, Lord, You may have my precious wife. Please take care of her.”
Death turned and disappeared from the room. Almost instantly, Dr. Johnson opened the door.
“Congratulations, Mr. Nash. You have a healthy baby boy.” She paused, seeming to gather strength. “But I’m sorry to say that Mrs. Nash did not make it.” After delivering the blow, the doctor didn’t hang around to answer questions but quickly backed out of the room and closed the door.
Delirium struck the family at once, but only Brecee lashed out, lunging at Garrett and pounding his chest.
“How could you? How could you let my sister die?”
Through blurred vision and a collapsed mind, he didn’t feel a thing. Annette wrapped her arms around her youngest daughter, and together they wept until everyone else had surrounded them in a group hug.
“It was God’s will,” Annette said, trying to comfort Brecee.
“But God gave Garrett a choice. They could have had another baby!” She was inconsolable. “She was my sister!”
“But God didn’t give him that option,” Annette reasoned with her.
Uncle Bradford walked into the room, carrying flowers. He stopped in his tracks. “What’s going on?”
Garrett was too numb to speak.
“My baby didn’t make it,” Annette finally said.
Bradford pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “I’m so sorry, but Shari will have another one.”
Annette shook her head. “It was Shari.”
A nurse entered the room carrying his baby boy, but Garrett waved her off. This was no longer a joyous occasion. He was mourning, and no one could give him comfort.
“Your wife gave you a precious gift, Mr. Nash,” the nurse tried coaxing him—to no avail.
Garrett refused to embrace Garrison. He couldn’t. He folded his arms in protest. “My wife was my precious gift.”
Annette took her grandson while Garrett retreated to a corner and grieved alone. Once he composed himself, he demanded to see his wife.
Chapter 39
Standing tall, Garrett focused on the door of the waiting room and commanded his feet to take one step in front of the other. Without asking any questions of him, his kinfolk parted, making a path for him. He bypassed his son, having no desire to count fingers and toes or to see whose looks the child favored. He blinked back tears as he opened the door and crossed the hall.
Garrett bowed his head. He wasn’t ready to say good-bye to his queen. “God, why did I trust You?”
Precious in My sight is the death of My saints, God spoke from Psalm 116:15. She was washed in My blood.
“She was very precious to me, Lord, because You gave her to me,” Garrett whispered back. What he really wanted to do was to scream at Jesus. He quietly opened the door to Shari’s room, as if she were sleeping and he didn’t want to disturb her. He cast his eyes on the remains of his wife—the lifeless part that God had left him after carrying away her soul. It was so quiet, a stark contrast to the commotion in the room when he’d left it.
Even in death, Sharmaine Nash was exquisite with her long black hair spilling across the pillow. The white sheets tucked around her reminded him of their wedding day. Sleeping Beauty had nothing on his wife.
Before Garrett broke down, he approached the bed and kissed her forehead, then took the seat next to her. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He wept, then sniffed. “I love you so much, but we know God loves you better than me, right?” He smiled as his eyes roved over everything that made his wife beautiful: long, thick lashes; silky locks—he fingered a curl; full lips; dimples; and unblemished dark chocolate skin.
It wasn’t fair that Brittani had delivered two boys and lived, yet his wife’s life hadn’t been spared while giving birth to one. Garrett quickly repented for his wayward thoughts. “I know…” he choked. “I know that Second Corinthians five, verse eight, says that to be absent from this body means you’re in the presence of the Lord, waiting for that trumpet sound, when the dead in Christ shall rise first.”
More tears fell as he rattled off every Scripture he could recall about the benefits of death for those who were saved, concluding with 1 Thessalonians 4:17–18: “‘We which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.’”
Squeezing her soft hands, Garrett rested his head on her chest—no heartbeat, no movement, no life. He continued to sob. “God didn’t give us much time together, but I couldn’t appreciate more the time He gave us….”
Before long, his family and Shari’s entered the room, singing praise and worshipping God for the life she had lived. All of them had tears streaming down their faces as they looked at the bed. How they had the energy and presence of mind to lift up their voices in praise, Garrett didn’t know.
When his son cried, Garrett looked at him for the first time. Annette still held him, but she motioned for Garrett to take him. He hesitated, then reached for the baby. Cuddling Garrison in his arms, he studied his son’s features. A smile tugged at Garrett’s lips. Garrison Moses Nash looked like the mother he would never know.
Chapter 40
Three months later
Garrett sat in the congregation of Souls Deliverance Church in Nashville, Tennessee, at the invitation of the pastor. It was the third invite he’d accepted within two months. He’d already turned down four.
“Psalm nineteen, verse seven, tells us that God’s law is perfect,” Pastor Jacobs told his congregation. “I am a witness. In sickness, God’s grace is perfect. In trials, His grace is still perfect. In victories, we proclaim that God’s grace is perfect. The Lord is consistent. He never changes. He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.” He continued to extort the congregation for another twenty minutes or so.
At the conclusion of his message, Pastor Jacobs closed his Bible and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He took a deep breath, then extended his hands. “Is there anybody here who wants to be saved? Playtime is over. Stop faking church. Repent for the sins you’ve committed, then walk down to the altar, where the ministers are waiting to pray for you to receive the real thing.”
Several people, mostly teenagers, took the lead. Some even requested baptism in the name of Jesus.
“Before we dismiss today, we have some sp
ecial visitors,” he announced. “I’d like to ask Brother Garrett Nash to come to the podium and share his testimony.”
With his saxophone in his hand, Garrett walked up to the pulpit and shook the pastor’s hand. First he played “How Great Is Our God,” worshipping Jesus with his instrument, until most of the congregants were on their feet. When he finished, they released an exhilarating ovation of applause.
“Praise the Lord, church,” Garrett said, adjusting the microphone. “Truly, that song is my testimony. Even when I don’t understand God, He’s still great and perfect, as the pastor preached.” He closed his eyes to gather his thoughts. “Three months and two days ago, I became a widower. I lost my soul mate—the woman I truly loved, the woman I had prayed for, the woman God gave me.”
A hush swept through the sanctuary. “Hours before Shari died, she gave me my son, Garrison—seven pounds, five ounces, and nineteen inches long.” Garrett paused, dropped his head, and swallowed. “It’s still hard talking about the darkest day of my life.” A tear slid down his check.
“Bless him, Lord,” people shouted from their pews.
Garrett wiped his face with a handkerchief before continuing. “I stand here today with restored faith in God. His ways aren’t our ways. You see, the Lord visited me in that hospital room and asked me if I would give up my wife. The angel of death was standing by, waiting to do the Lord’s bidding. “If He had been a mere man, I would have asked him if he were crazy.”
Frowning, Garrett gnawed on his lip as he gripped the podium. “Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if I had told God no. Would He have taken my wife, anyway? What would have been His ‘plan B’?”
He looked out over the congregation and found the face he was searching for. He smiled, and she responded with an even brighter grin. “I’m a witness that God never takes away from us without relinquishing to us.” Stretching out his arm, he summoned the woman. “I would like to introduce my wife. Bring Garrison with you, baby.”