Andy shook her head. “He can’t die. Martin is the healthiest man I know. This is just crazy.” She clenched her fists. “He’s too young to die.”
He guided her to the desk, where a woman smiled up at them.
“Hey there, Roger, what’s up?” the woman said.
“They brought Martin Taylor in by ambulance. This is his wife, Andy. Can she go see him?”
“Let me check.” She punched a number on the phone and smiled at Andy. “Hang in there, hon.” After a minute of questions and pauses, she shook her head. “Sorry, the doctors are working with him now. You would only be in the way.”
“Can you give us any information?” Roger put an arm around Andy’s shoulders. “Anything would help.”
The woman paused. “Let me go see.” She reached over and patted Andy’s hand on the counter. “Be right back.”
“You want to sit down?”
Andy shook her head, as if standing would help Martin. She felt as though she was having one of those out-of-body experiences and looking down on all this. Another ambulance wailed and came to a stop just outside the automatic doors. Someone coughed from the rows of chairs in the waiting area. A white-jacketed doctor breezed past her, his eyes intent on the chart he was holding. On the fringe of the long hall leading to the examination rooms, another group of people waited—a teenage boy sat holding an ice pack on his face. From where Andy stood, it looked like it was the other side that needed it. His face looked as though it had been sprinkled with meat tenderizer and beaten with a wooden mallet. A young mother rocked back and forth. In her arms a baby coughed to the point of gagging. A gurney whizzed by, and the medical team pushing it looked on edge.
The receptionist returned. “The nurse says Mr. Taylor is responding to treatment, but he’s still not stable. If you’ll have a seat—I know how hard it is to wait, but right now there is nothing anyone else can do for him.”
“Sure we can,” a familiar voice said from behind. “We can pray for him.”
Andy whipped around and flew into Julia’s arms.
While Julia consoled Andy, Roger took a pen and a clipboard from the receptionist. “Let’s sit down over there,” he said, looking pointedly at Julia. “She needs to fill this out.”
With Julia’s help, Andy filled out the papers and put Martin’s insurance card under the clip. She knew the drill, because she’d volunteered at their local hospital in Medford. But this time it was different. She was on the other side of the counter, and it was Martin.
While Roger took the clipboard and pen back up to the counter, Julia asked what had happened.
“I had a cab bring me to the house from the airport—” Andy cut herself off, realizing she didn’t have to go through every step. “He … he was on the floor when I got home.”
“Heart?”
“They think so.”
“Martin looked like the last one who’d suffer from a heart attack.”
“Type A personality all the way.”
Julia nodded. “I thought so, but still.
“He’s so young.”
“Which is in his favor,” Roger said.
“This wouldn’t have happened if.
“No ‘if’s,’ remember?” Roger asked. “There was nothing you could have done to prevent this. No matter how strong and capable you are, some things are beyond your control.”
“Yeah, like Martin.” Andy rolled her eyes.
Roger chuckled. “Spoken like a true wife.”
A wailing baby came through the door, its parent trying to shush the noise.
The sound grated on Andy’s nerves like the drip of a faucet. Shut that baby up. What’s the matter with me? Lord, I’m going loony.
She watched the clock hands stutter around its face. She tried to pay attention to the conversation between Roger and Julia, but they might as well have been talking Swahili. She’d shredded every tissue Julia pressed into her hands, her cheeks feeling chapped and raw from the constant dabbing. Who’d have ever thought she had this many tears in her? They kept leaking out in spite of her stern orders to stop.
Most of the room had been cleared out, immediately replaced by new sufferers. Suddenly the woman who had been behind the desk was standing in front of them. “Mrs. Taylor, Doctor says you can see your husband, but you have to be quick because they’re taking him up to surgery.”
“Surgery?” Fear clamped off her air. She coughed. And coughed again. Brace up, Andrea. Answer the woman. “For what?”
The woman glanced at her clipboard. “Bypass. That’s all we know for now. Come with me. Roger, you can come too.”
“I’ll wait here.” Julia squeezed Andy’s hand.
Andy stood, and Roger took her elbow. Comfort and strength flowed into her through that bit of contact. Bless the man. They followed the woman through a pair of doors and down a hall—a hall that seemed to stretch three city blocks.
Green-garbed staff were wheeling a gurney out into the hall.
“Here’s his wife.” The woman motioned her forward.
They paused, obviously impatient to be on their way.
Andy stepped up to the side, reached over the bars, and took Martin’s free hand. She stroked his face. “I love you, Martin. You’re safe in God’s hands.” A slight squeeze let her know he heard her. She stepped back, fighting the tears that refused to be fought. Standing in the hall, she watched them wheel him through another pair of doors, these reading No Admittance.
Bye, Martin. I love you. God be with you. If it hadn’t been for Roger and the wall she stumbled to, she’d have collapsed right there in the hall. Please, God, let him live.
“So I hear you want off the couch.” Dr. Cheong put her stethoscope back in her pocket and helped her patient sit up.
“Yes. How’s the linebacker in here?” Hope laid a hand on her middle.
“Doing fine. Next month we’ll do another sonogram. There’s been no more spotting?”
Hope shook her head.
“Cramping?”
“Nope.”
Dr. Cheong checked Hope’s ankles. “No edema?”
“No, I run—er, walk—to the bathroom enough to get in a mile a day.” She raised a hand. “I know … I’ve been staying down, but you make me drink gallons, even eliciting cooperation from my staff. Everyone’s been against me, and I can’t live in the bathroom.”
“We could get you a potty chair.”
Hope stared toward the ceiling. “Please, Lord, no.”
Dr. Cheong half snorted, half chuckled. “If you can restrain yourself, I’d say you can be up and more mobile. But taking it easy is still the order of the day. Getting too tired, catching something, on your feet too long, all could lead to trouble.”
“How do I know what is too much?”
“If you are tired, lie down, take a nap. Listen to your body. Don’t push yourself to make commitments. In fact, don’t make commitments, other than what is best for this baby. We all want you to carry this baby to term.”
“I know. Me too.” Hope thought a moment. “I have a question.”
“All right.”
“Are really oppressive nightmares typical for pregnant women?”
“No. You’re having a bad time?”
“Yes.”
“You might want to talk with someone about them.”
“I’ll see.” Hope blew out a breath. “Can I walk outside?”
“Not power walk.”
“Stroll?”
“Up to the corner and back. That is all—for now. You will find your stamina is greatly reduced.”
“But other than tired at times, I feel really good again.” Hope stared at her doctor, who was slowly shaking her head. “All right. And I see you again when?”
“Three weeks, unless there is a problem, and that I want to know immediately.”
“Thank you. I’m sure you’ve already given the news to Roger.”
“Not yet, but he is a persuasive man.”
“That’s one word for hi
m. He could have just as well come in here.”
When she finished dressing and met Roger in the waiting room, the smile that showered her with love also said he knew the good news. “I’ll take it easy.”
“I know.”
They said their good-byes to the receptionist and headed out the door.
“I could even go out for lunch.”
“I have meetings this afternoon—sorry.”
“I know, but I could go out for lunch. And tomorrow I get to walk up to the corner and back. Outside. I will never take being outside for granted again.”
“We have to have a meeting of all of us,” Hope told Clarice.
Clarice shrugged. “How, when Andy is at the hospital all day, every day?”
“Her daughter’s with her. Maybe she can stay with her father so that Andy can meet with us. Time is running out. I cannot believe how fast.”
“Have you told Julia yet?”
“No. Do you have Andy’s cell phone number? I want to leave a message. I’m thinking tomorrow afternoon might work. Let’s see … ” Hope studied the calendar pad on the desk. “The surgery was last Tuesday, he’s been out of the ICU since Thursday, and this is Monday. He should be going home tomorrow, I think she said.” Hope took the paper with the phone number that Clarice handed her and dialed. After leaving the message, she sat down in her office chair. “Okay, let’s get on with whatever you have for me to do. I can guess the pile is three feet high.”
“Not anymore, but the front of this file drawer has to be gone through, and only you can do it. The most important things are in the front. When you get to the middle, stop and take a nap.”
“Who made you my keeper?”
“The man.”
“Roger? Celia calls him the same thing. You’re all against me.”
The next afternoon, the four women met at one o’clock in the back corner of the hospital cafeteria. Andy had set the time, saying that Martin usually slept right after lunch, and Bria could stay with him by herself for an hour or so.
“Okay, so what is going on that I don’t know about?” Andy pushed her plate away, her salad only half eaten.
“First things first,” Hope said. “How are you holding up?”
“Better with Bria. She’s been a big help and a good listening post.”
“And what’s the latest on Martin’s condition?”
“The doctor says he’s right where he needs to be after the surgery, so that’s a relief. He’s scheduled to go home on Tuesday. Good thing he is going down the stairs to get to the house and not up.”
“Roger will help,” Hope said, knowing that indeed he would.
“I can’t begin to thank you all for the visits and the prayers. You have truly become my family. Hope, are you sure you should be going to the hospital yet? You haven’t been out of bed that long.”
“Two days, and I’m being careful. Doc said I could walk every day, and my walk today is here at the hospital.”
“The Girl Squad in action.” Julia reached across the table and patted Andy’s hand. “How are your kids doing?”
“Bria is doing fine. Of the three, she’s the strong one. Morgan was upset that I sent her back to school, but I told her that there wasn’t anything she could do and that she couldn’t afford to be away from school too long or her grades would suffer. As for Camden, he was okay with going back to Montana once he knew his dad was going to be all right. He’s working as a TA as part of his master’s program.”
Hope glanced at her watch. “We better get to business. Last week I met with Peter Kent, our attorney, and he reminded me that we only have until the end of the year to come up with the money for retrofitting, less than two months away. So unless God sends a miracle, J House will have to be sold.” Her voice broke on the last words, and she cleared her throat.
“Well, then,” Andy said, “let’s ask Him for one—a miracle, I mean After all, He has done them before.” Andy laughed, and it felt so good, she laughed harder.
Hope laughed at Andy’s laugh, and then they were all laughing. “Okay, okay.” Hope put up her hand. “That’s basically what I was going to say. We need to get together and pray for Martin, for J House, for all of our needs, every week, and each of us needs to commit to praying every day. We have a prayer chain that I will put out the request on too.”
“That’s a great idea,” Julia said, her expression eager. “I don’t know why nobody thought of this before.”
Hope blew out a sigh. “I’ll be real honest with you. I’m at the end of my spiritual rope. Good thing I know Big Dad is hanging on to the other end, or I’d freak.”
“You mean pray right here, out loud?” Clarice glanced around the room. The diners had thinned out, and no one was sitting near them.
Hope understood her discomfort. “No one will hear us. They’re all busy doing their own thing.” She smiled at Clarice. “Jesus said, ‘Where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them. And whatever they agree on, I will answer.’ So let’s just hold hands and close our eyes, and anyone can pray as the Spirit leads. Okay?” She glanced around at the others and saw them nod. She took Clarice’s hand and squeezed gently to stop the shaking. “It’ll be all right. Relax.”
“Easy for you to say. The only prayer I ever said out loud was ‘Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord … ’” She yawned. “I do that every time, right in the same place. Isn’t that funny? Oh, and the Lord’s Prayer—and grace.”
They all released the breaths they’d been holding and grew silent.
Hope could hear the kitchen workers and two people talking a few tables over. Please, Lord, quiet my mind. Let someone begin.
“Father, we’re here because we need You. We’ve hit walls that we cannot knock down.” Andy paused and sighed. “We ask that You take care of J House and all those who live there, that You provide housing and food, that You pay the bills. Lord, You said You have a plan for us, for good and not for evil, and we ask that we can see that plan in action.”
“Thank You, Jesus.” Hope waited again.
This time it was Julia who spoke. “Jesus, You said You are here, and You must be, because otherwise I would not be doing this.” Julia sniffed. “Please bring healing to Martin’s heart and the incisions. Make him well in all ways. Let him know that You are in control and that all he needs to do is let You do the work. And please bring Cyndy back to me.”
Hope felt Clarice nodding clear through to her hands. Oh, Lord, You are so gracious to bring us all together. Thank You. She waited longer. The noises around them faded away, and it felt as though they were even breathing all together, in the same rhythm. “Big Dad, I know that You are listening and that You never go back on Your word. I am so scared for J House, or at least I was when we started. Thank you for reminding me that You will do what You will do.” She dropped Clarice’s hand so she could dig out a tissue and mop her nose. “We ask also that You take care of Clarice and her problem. Give her money back to live on, and You say that You are to do the revenge. Go for it, please.” She paused again. The silence felt comfortable now, and Clarice’s hands had quit shaking. Someone else was sniffing too. They should have brought a box of tissue. “Amen,” she said, and everyone else echoed.
The others joined her, all of them blowing out sighs like wind. They mopped and sniffed and blinked a few times.
“You just talked like He was right there.” Clarice looked around at each of the others. “No fancy words like Thee and Thou. That’s all right? I mean—God doesn’t mind?”
Hope patted the older woman’s hand. “The best prayer of all is Help!”
“No, there’s one better.” Andy grinned. “Thank You. The words I never say enough.”
“I could always talk better with the saints, because I could use regular language, not Thee and Thou or in Latin. This was so easy.” Clarice dabbed at her eyes again. “So now what?”
“Well, I don’t know about all of you, but I’m going back up t
o Martin.”
“And we go back to J House.”
“And we all expect a miracle.” Hope did a thumbs-up. “Or four.”
“Yahoo! I got him!” Julia came stomping into the office, sporting a Cheshire cat grin.
“Got who?”
“That … ” Julia reined in her language. “The gigolo of all gigolos.” She smiled down at Clarice. “Gregor, or whatever he’s calling himself—this time.”
Clarice leaned back in the chair and stared at Julia. “How—What—Will I get my money back?”
“If he hasn’t spent it all, yes. But if he has, you might have to be content with knowing that he’ll never defraud anyone else. So far, it looks like you are wealthy widow number four. But now, thanks to certain friends in high places, his duping days are over! They picked him up and charged him last night for fraud and bigamy—no, it has to be polygamy. Seems he neglected to divorce the women he married, then divested of their money. Of course, he couldn’t divorce any of them, or they would have come after him.” Julia paused midrant. “He did tell you he’d been divorced, right?”
“He said once, when he was younger.”
“I wonder what name he was going by then?” Julia’s grin broadened. “Since he’s likely a flight risk, the judge didn’t set bail.”
Clarice stared at the excellent fakes glinting on her fingers. “I’d like my real wedding ring back most of all.” She stared at Julia. “This is so hard to comprehend. He seemed to have plenty of money.”
“Sure he did. He used the money from the former wife … ” She paused to think a moment. “I wonder if all the marriages were legal. Hmm, I’ll follow up on that.” She wrote herself a note. “Back to your question. He used the money from wife three to court you—soon-to-be wife four. I’m thinking he hasn’t had time yet to find wife five. One of the women is from Texas, another California, then Oregon, and you lived in Florida. He moved around, so you’d never find out about each other. What a crafty … ”
Julia sat down on the sofa across from the desk and ran her fingers through her hair, setting the caramel wavy strands to flying every which way before dropping back into place. “I’d like to have a crack at him personally before I sic the IRS on his tail. You can bet he didn’t pay any taxes on all that he’s stolen.”
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