Express Duet

by Jody Day

  “Queen o’ Sheba.” Peeps said—and only once.

  “Dad?” Scott stood at his father’s side, leaning close.

  “I…I think so…so. Yep, it’s me…me.” His voice sounded weak, but coherent and not exactly in threes.

  Mother pushed the alert button. The nurse on the intercom answered immediately.

  “Mr. West has awakened. Please get his doctor,” she said as she headed for the door.

  “How do you feel?” Scott grinned from ear to ear.

  “Good, I g…guess.” He struggled a bit, but definitely an improvement. “What was all…all…”

  “What was all the ruckus about? I thought Bailey here was going to deck that guy.” Scott smiled at me, reached for my hand, and pulled me closer. “Kind of wish she had.”

  I couldn’t speak. A miracle happened in our midst. Peeps appeared recovered, not only from whatever episode had befallen him the night before, but also showed some improvement in his speech. This miracle, and Scott’s relief and happiness, thrilled me to my toes.

  The doctor and two nurses arrived. I decided to slip out and give them room. Tiredness washed over me, so I headed for Mom’s office.

  I thought about Darryl in the critical care unit. He needed someone to care about him, but I didn’t think it could be me. Help him, Father. Help me to forgive him.

  The pillow on the sofa bed called my name. My head sank into the spot where Scott’s had been. His scent still lingered there. The comfort of the cologne scent relaxed me. With the blanket tucked under my chin, I closed my eyes, but sleep did not answer my exhaustion and spinning mind.

  Pinewood Manor had to be dealt with. Not just the legal and logistical matters. The place had to be cleaned up and decisions made about what to do with what remained. But I knew I’d have to grieve over the loss, like losing Gran again. The dream I’d held in front of me nearly all my life vanished like the smoke that rose from the rubble and disappeared into the air.

  All the traditional, reasonable thinking didn’t ease the pain and sense of loss. Yes, no lives were lost, but how do you reason away a lost dream, a lost legacy?

  “I’ve given you the best that I have, Bailey. I pray that you’ll treasure and honor my legacy always.” Weak and near death, Gran had spoken those words to me.

  I turned my face to the pillow and cried. She’d never wanted the place trampled, or admission paid to roam the house. I’d let that happen. My foolishness had dishonored and spoiled her legacy. Ruining things seemed to be my lot in life. I would probably somehow ruin my new life on Exit 477.

  The thought of disappointing Scott and my new friends seemed inevitable. My old thought patterns flooded me in a familiar litany of doubt, criticism, and self-hate. Familiar thoughts, like bad habits, came back with a vengeance.

  Why couldn’t I hold on to the affirmation of the Lord? Why did I find it so hard to change my thinking?

  My mother slipped into the room. She sat beside me and pulled me to her arms.

  “It’s all my fault, Mom. If I hadn’t been so stupid, Gran’s house would still be standing. It’s all dust and ashes, dust and ashes…”

  She cradled me in her arms and rocked me back and forth. “Nonsense. It’s not your fault. Yes, it’s sad, very sad, but not the end of the world. Sure, Gran would have spent a little time grieving. Then she would have declared, ‘Onward!’ That’s what we’ve got to do. She instilled that in both of us. The only thing Gran would have been disappointed in was that you seemed to turn your back on your faith because of Darryl Graham. But that’s over now.”

  As my mother gently rocked me, I thought of the times that Gran had rocked me in her bentwood rocker, telling me Bible stories and how much I was dearly loved by Jesus. She was the one who told me about His sacrifice on the cross to save me from my sins, to reconcile me with God so that I could be with Him forever in heaven. She led me to Christ and modeled His love to my mother and me all those years.

  Love and faith. They would heal me, restore me fully, and set me on the right path. The Father wanted my heart, not my perfection. Love and faith. I began to see these as the tools of war I needed to battle the crushing self-degradation that I was so apt to fall back on. Love and faith. How amazing that the same tools were needed to help me rest in His grace and forgiveness. My tears took on a new meaning.

  How tired the Father must get of my constant vacillation. That negative thoughts, all of them, must be covered with His grace, replaced with what He says about me, not what I keep telling myself. I must dig deep to find those Scriptures to renew my mind, the ones I memorized long ago. With those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.

  15

  Mother was still sitting beside me when I woke an hour later.

  “Feeling better?” She smoothed some pillows against the back of the sofa so I could sit up. She moved to her desk and pulled a granola bar from the drawer and brought it to me with a cup of water from the cooler in her office.

  “Much better, thanks. You must have work to do, and I’ve kept you from it.”

  Mom’s eyes drooped. “I’m off duty but decided to stick around. Mr. West is doing well. His speech has improved, although he sometimes takes long pauses to think of what he wants to say. He does appear to have some weakening in his leg muscles. We got him up a little while ago, and he’s not walking as well as before. The doctor thinks that he can improve with rehabilitation.”

  I got up and smoothed the covers and fluffed the pillow for her. “I thought about checking on Darryl earlier.” Where was my hairbrush? I tried to put my face back in order with powder and lipstick from my purse.

  “I could go with you.” She headed for the door.

  “I don’t want to, but he doesn’t have any family. At least he always said his parents were dead and he had no siblings. Who knows what the truth is?” I stepped out the door behind my mother. I kissed her on the cheek. “Go get some rest, Mom. I can do this by myself.”

  Darryl slept fitfully as I entered the room. Bandages circled his arms and some kind of salve shone on his face and chest. I wondered if he knew just how blessed he was to have these superficial burns, cuts, and scrapes that would heal. I sat in the chair next to his bed to pray for him. But what to pray? My two new words came to mind, faith and love.

  “Father, help me to forgive Him. And please forgive me for entering into this relationship with a non-believer, for seeking approval and validation from this man who doesn’t even know You. Forgive me for not telling Him about Your love. Please heal his wounds and his heart. I don’t know the full extent of all his problems, but You do. Give him direction, faith, and love.”

  I opened my eyes to find Darryl looking at me.

  “I can imagine you’d need a lot of help to forgive me, that’s for sure.” He turned away from me.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” I waited for a response, and when he didn’t answer, I started to leave.

  “Bailey, wait.” He motioned with his bandaged arm for me to sit down again. “I want you to know that it was my fault that Pinewood caught on fire, but it was an accident.”

  “You expect me to believe that? Your fraud was about to come crashing down around you. You wouldn’t benefit from the insurance, but then again I wouldn’t have my home. That was it, wasn’t it?” Addressing Darryl this way strengthened me. I would no longer be a victim of my own self-esteem and his damaging words.

  “I won’t deny that I thought all those things, that if I couldn’t have it, no one could. I’m in terrible debt to some unsavory characters. You have to believe me. I didn’t do it on purpose. I tried to burn the documents. I’d started drinking before our meeting and continued after I left. In my anger and frustration I just kept lighting matches. That’s what started it; you’ve got to believe me.” He reached for me with his pitiful, damaged arms.

  I took a step back. Could this really be the man that I thought of as the pinnacle of success? The calm, arrogant self-assurance drained from his eyes while fear took residence
. Everything he’d ever told me was a lie. Could I believe that he never meant to burn down the house? It didn’t really matter now.

  “Darryl, I don’t know if I believe you, but I do forgive you. I forgive you for the loss of Pinewood Manor, for all the lies you told me, the façade of our relationship, the way I let you make me feel. I want you to forgive me, too.”

  Faith and love, love and faith…Father, help me.

  “Forgive you? I…” His entire face wrinkled in confusion.

  “Forgive me for not telling you about my faith. Darryl, this situation is bad, really bad, but I want you to know that God loves you. He loves you so much that He sent His only Son, Jesus Christ to die on the cross for you. He was thinking of you that day on the cross, Darryl, about how much He loves you and wants to be with you forever. He extends His hand to you now. You only have to repent, turn from your sins, and ask Him into your heart.”

  “And that will fix everything?”

  “You won’t get out of this situation you’ve created unscathed, I’m afraid, but Jesus will be with you all the way. He will get you through it.” I took a deep breath to let that sink in.

  “Yeah, right. Sure.” He turned away from me. I would have to trust that he’d think about it.

  What an amazing God. I knew that I’d never have been able to forgive Darryl, to actually witness to him and forgive him if it were not for the Holy Spirit within me.

  “You only have to call on Him, Darryl.” I patted his forehead and left the room, a burden lifted from my heart. I committed to continue praying for him. I gently opened the door to my mom’s office but found her wide awake.

  “Come on, Mom. Let me drive you home. Everything’s fine here for now.” We put the sofa bed back together and prepared to leave.

  “I need to stop by the nurses’ station and check the schedule, see how things are going before we leave,” Mom said. She padded on down the hall so I stopped in at Peeps’s room.

  I stuck my head in the door. “How’s it going in here?” Scott was asleep in the chair. Peeps was staring at him.

  “We…we’re…fine.” He still struggled a bit, but at least he wasn’t talking in threes.

  I sat in the empty chair beside Scott, trying not to wake him.

  No luck. He woke up and grabbed my hand. “Did you get any rest?” He scooted to the edge of his chair and leaned in to look at my face.

  “I did sleep and got a rest of sorts. Rest and peace of heart and mind, more like it.” I scooted my chair closer to Peeps’s bed. I reached for both men’s hands and silently thanked God for them.

  Peeps looked at Scott and then at me. A big smile spanned his lips. “Beautiful.” He took a breath that struck me as a big sigh of relief.

  Love and faith.

  16

  The next day I spent my time going back and forth between the hospital and Shelley’s Heart Bed and Breakfast. I had those guests booked, after all, and needed to prepare for their arrival on the weekend.

  Peeps didn’t take his transfer to a Dallas rehabilitation center without a fight. He argued with his doctor, but with the help of Dr. Barnes, Scott nudged his father toward acceptance while I stood by silently praying.

  “Come on, Dad. I’ll go with you. It’s only for a week. I’ll be learning how to do the exercises with you so we can come home and continue your rehab here. A whole week away from work—it’s what you’ve been after me to do all along—but now we’ll be together.” Scott rubbed his father’s legs as he spoke, an exercise the doctor had suggested.

  “All…all right, if it’s only…only a week.” Peeps gave in with a sigh. He looked as though he might doze off.

  “Well, then, it’s a deal. Why don’t you take a nap, and I’ll go home and pack for us. We can leave in the morning.”

  Peeps closed his eyes in the middle of Scott’s sentences.

  Scott shot a concerned look at Dr. Barnes.

  “It’s OK,” Dr. Barnes said. “He’s tired from all the tests and the walking session earlier. I’m really quite pleased, but I still think it’s best to have him in rehab so that his progress can be carefully monitored for a time before we send him home. Call and schedule a follow-up appointment when you get back home.”

  “Will do, and thanks for everything, Doctor.” Scott shook his hand.

  “Don’t worry, Scott. Your father is stronger now. I was more worried after his first stroke”—the doctor lowered his voice and cast a quick glance at Peeps, the old man’s eyes still closed—“that he might lose the will to live with Shelley gone, but he seems to have some new motivation in his spirit. That’s a good sign.”

  “Grandchildren,” Peeps whispered, without opening his eyes. Dr. Barnes chuckled as he left the room

  Scott blushed but laughed as well. “I thought you were asleep.” He leaned over and kissed his dad on the forehead. Peeps’s rhythmic breathing indicated that he had finally dozed off.

  Scott took my hand. “You’re awfully quiet. Everything OK?” he whispered and then pulled me out of the room. I’d driven him to the hospital that morning, so we headed to my car.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Praying for you both and just relieved he’s so much better. We may get him back whole and healthy before too long.” We reached the car in the parking lot.

  Scott’s sheepish grin poked a dimple in his right cheek. He opened the driver’s side door for me.

  “What are you grinning about?” I slipped into the seat.

  Scott bounded around the car and popped in on the passenger side. “I love the way you say ‘We will get him back.’” He looked sideways at me, then pulled his cap down over his eyes and slumped into the seat as though he might take a nap, a contented sort of smile curving his lips.

  Scott slept on the thirty-minute drive back to Exit 477. His snoring tickled me somehow, and I had to stifle a giggle. This lighthearted drive helped relieve my nerves. The responsibility of dealing with the aftermath of the fire made me uneasy.

  I pulled up to West House and turned off the engine. Scott was really sawing logs now and didn’t even budge. A gentle shake on the arm did not rouse him. Exhausted, poor man.

  “Scott, wake up. We’re here.” I scooted closer to him on the seat and shook him a little harder. “Scott?” His unresponsiveness alarmed me.

  “Scott!” Both my hands were on his face now, patting his cheeks.

  He reached for my hands and kissed them both. “Gotcha!” He laughed as he opened the car door and exited as if to run from me. He jogged toward the front door of the diner. I chased him inside, but he made it to the kitchen door and barred me from entering. With my nose pressed against the glass window on the door, I made a pretend mad face.

  Toppy pulled Scott away from the door and opened it for me. “You two need supervision.”

  “What I want to know is what would you have done if you’d caught me?” Scott grabbed a dishtowel and flicked it toward me.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased back. “Now, give me the keys to your old truck.”

  “What? What do you need the truck for? I can haul something for you if you need help.”

  “I don’t need the truck, but you need my car. You aren’t taking your dad for a two-hour ride to Dallas in that beat up vehicle of yours, especially in his condition. Hand over the keys.” I put one hand out in front of him to further request his keys and offered him the keys to my car with the other hand.

  “You sure?” He handed me his truck keys and accepted mine.

  “Where’s the truck parked? I need to get to Shelley’s. We have guests arriving Saturday morning, and I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Out back. Listen, it has some quirks. Let me go with you and show you. She won’t start for just anyone.” He opened the back door, and we went to the truck.

  “Hop in and put in the keys. Push in hard before turning. She locks up sometimes. Been meaning to get the boys to look at it. The Pearson brothers can fix anything.” He didn’t close the truck door,
but stood close to me, his head peering at the keys.

  Sure enough, the key wouldn’t turn. I took it out, replaced it and jiggled. No luck.

  “No jiggling. Just a hard press and turn. Oh, and pull the steering wheel to the left,” he said.

  Hard press in, then turn…voila! It started. I laughed at my success and turned to find Scott looking in my eyes.

  “Bailey, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been like a rock to me. But it’s more than that, I…” He looked down, the emotion in his voice stopping his speech.

  I put my finger to his lips to stop him from saying more. I couldn’t bear to have him thank me again when I was the grateful one. How my life had changed since the day I took the Washout Express exit, how exquisite the peace in the midst of tragedy and disappointment, how kindred the spirits that dwelled here. Home.

  Scott pulled my face toward his and gently kissed me, more tenderness than “thank you” and more depth of feeling than gratitude. Scott said something to me in that kiss. I knew it then…our eyes locked for long moments in a deep understanding. Scott took both my hands in his and held them to his heart. Our foreheads rested together as so many unspoken hopes passed between us. This is what I’ve longed for, prayed for, dreamed of…

  “This is much better than cracking our foreheads together, that’s for sure.” Scott laughed.

  “Y’all gonna be out there all day?” Toppy called out the back door. “Lunch is ready.”

  “Coming, Uncle Tops,” Scott called back. “Give us a minute,”

  I peered over Scott’s shoulder just in time to see realization dawn on his uncle’s face. I winked at Toppy.

  “Uh, take all the time you need. I’ll keep it warm for you.” As he closed the door, he let out a loud “Whoop!”

  My feelings exactly, Toppy. I couldn’t stop smiling.

  ~*~

  The morning dawned cold. Finally. I wanted to say good-bye to Peeps before they left for Dallas. I decided to follow Scott to the hospital and then go to my apartment and get some warmer clothes. He came out of the diner as I pulled in to the parking lot.