by Jody Day
We stood by helpless as another doctor stepped in and took over CPR. I stared at the monitor, hoping for a response, then at Peep’s motionless face, waiting for him to wake up, cough, sputter, and open his eyes, like they do in the movies.
Instead, the frantic activity of the doctors and nurses stopped, and the doctor cast a sympathetic glance toward Scott as the medical personnel began to file out of the room. “I’m sorry.”
Scott stepped forward and gripped the bed rail with both hands. “Dad, please don’t leave me.” He slid to his knees beside the bed.
Toppy knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around him.
I backed away until I felt the wall behind me. I slid down in a puddle of tears. Paul West was gone. Toppy and Scott held each other, shaking with sobs.
Pain gripped my heart. I ached for Scott. I sensed that I should leave them alone and started backing out of the room. I whispered, “Good-bye,” to Peeps. His face glowed with peace. I prayed Scott would notice that, and it would comfort him later.
I somehow found the waiting room and fumbled in my purse for my cell phone. I pressed Mom’s speed dial number with shaking hands. “Mom, Paul West just passed away. He had a heart attack.”
Silence.
“Mom, did you hear me?” I cried openly, relieved to be alone in the waiting room at the moment.
“Yes, honey, I heard you. Just a shock. Should I come to you?” Her voice wept as well.
“I don’t know. He was fine just a couple of hours ago. I don’t understand.”
“It happens, sweetie. I’m so sorry. Let me know what I can do. I’m praying for Scott and everyone. Are you OK?”
“No. No, I’m not. I’ll call you later, Mom.” I snapped my phone shut and curled up on a waiting room chair. This is too awful. And to think I took Scott away from his dad all afternoon, and turned down his proposal as well. The man I wanted to bless was now brought lower than ever, and I didn’t help at all. No wonder I didn’t deserve happiness. Poor Scott. Peeps, Peeps, Peeps…
Almost an hour passed before Scott and Toppy came into the waiting room. Not quite pulled together, but not weeping any longer, Scott was all business.
“Uncle Tops, I want you to take Bailey home in her car. I’ll wait until they transport Dad to Marshall tomorrow and follow behind in your car. Y’all go on now, it’s already late. I’ve got some phone calls to make.”
Toppy nodded. I stepped toward Scott, touching his arm.
“I’m so sorry, Scott. So very sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks,” he answered, rather curtly.
Toppy raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Toppy hugged Scott again. They held on for a moment. Scott didn’t look at me. Toppy and I left the building without saying more.
~*~
It’s strange the way a person’s mind works under stress. I wanted to be the kind of person who kept her cool, walked spiritually straight ahead, unfazed by life’s turmoil. Not me. I clung closer to God than ever, but found my old ways of thinking coursing through my veins like bad blood.
He resents me. I took him away from his father in his last hours and rejected his proposal. Granted, his proposal came across more like hiring a maid or personal assistant, but nevertheless a blow.
The Washout Express and West House closed down, funeral wreaths on the doors. I cancelled all the bookings I’d made for Shelley’s Heart, explaining a death in the family of the owner.
Family and friends gathered around Scott with such tenderness and care. I spent the nights at my mom’s so there would be plenty of room at Shelley’s for the family members who came in for the funeral. I drove to Exit 477 each day to help.
A few days after the funeral, with all the company gone, the inhabitants of Exit 477 gathered around the diner tables sipping coffee. Scott came down and joined us.
“Thanks so much, everyone. Seems you worked like slaves, taking care of things for me. I really appreciate it.”
Toppy slapped him on the back. “Don’t mention it. We are family here, all of us.”
I wish. But it wasn’t to be. I wasn’t coming back after this day. I tried to compartmentalize my time here, thinking only of the positive moments and slicing off the painful part at the end. But I needed to stop that and face some painful realities. I needed to figure out what to do about Pinewood Manor. I needed to get a job and get my life back together. I needed to read my father’s letter.
I thought about the day I first drove down Exit 477. The strange, dreamlike longing seemed to pull me to the little community. I knew now that there is no such thing as a perfect place. But one can live with shattered dreams. My mother’s heart had been broken. Yet, she’d managed to live a productive life.
Scott had all these people here who loved him and would help him. He didn’t really need me. He still wouldn’t look at me. I’d hurt him. That knowledge pained me worse than anything.
Liz began talking about how Peeps had taken her in, given her a job, and helped Tracy and her get on their feet after her husband died. Toppy talked about his sister and how Shelley and Peeps made him feel at home after his wife passed away. The group talked, even laughed over old stories. I started to slip out, to leave them all behind with this sweet memory.
“Dad nearly hit Bailey over the head with his cane the first time they met, remember?” Scott said, looking directly at me for the first time since his father died. “‘Queen o’ Sheba, Queen o’ Sheba, Queen o’ Sheba!’ He came hobbling into the washout ranting something about the Queen o’ Sheba. But he grew to love you.” Scott’s voice softened.
“I loved him, too.” The words stuck in my throat.
“Bailey, would you walk up to the prayer garden with me?” He stood and asked me this question in front of everyone. I answered by holding the door open for him.
We walked silently. I shivered more from nervousness than cold, but he took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. Shadows flickered under an overcast sky. We were both more than a little winded when we finally reached the gazebo in the prayer garden. We sat for a few moments, catching our breath.
“Scott, I’m so sorry that I…”
“Wait, you don’t owe me an apology for anything. It’s me who should apologize to you,” he said.
“Please, let me say it.” I put one hand on his shoulder, and the other over my heart. “I’m sorry that I took you away from your father that afternoon. I wanted to give you a break, but I caused you to miss those last few hours, and I hurt you as well. I’m truly sorry.”
“No, you were trying to bless me. Bailey, I really botched up that proposal. I didn’t understand at first because I didn’t think it through. I was so excited that I didn’t even plan what I would say. It came out all wrong. I don’t know if I can get it right now.” He got down on one knee again.
“Please, don’t try. Let’s don’t add more hurt to either of us.”
“Bailey, listen to me. Hear me out, and then you can decide. OK?” He reached for my hands. I took a deep breath and then nodded.
“That awful, lonely night that Dad died, I got a hotel room. I couldn’t sleep. It hurt so badly. I tried to imagine my life without Dad. It nearly killed me. I’m not over my mother’s death yet. When I prayed for comfort, your face kept appearing. Your smile…” He got choked up and stopped for a bit. He took a breath and continued.
“I realized what an idiot I had been. It was your servant’s heart that made me notice you in the first place. That’s what I really wanted to say. You are so beautiful, inside and out. If you never lifted another finger around here, I’d still love you. I love you, Bailey, I love you so much. Please marry me.” Tears streamed down his face. I wiped them away with my hands and planted a kiss on his lips.
“I love you, too, Scott.” We shared a kiss and an embrace. He pulled away and looked at me for an answer.
“I love you. Let’s leave it at that for a while.” I held his face in my hands, willing him to understand. “I’m so
tempted to say yes. Things are so emotional right now. Can you be happy with just knowing that you are the only one for me? That I love you so much I can barely stand it?
“Scott, when I drove down Exit 477, I was emotionally and spiritually washed up. I stopped the car to pray, and then I looked up to see the Washout Express sign. I thought God agreed with me—washed up. I came to this community broken, but found wholeness in Christ again, found dear friends, found the love of my life. But I feel like I need to exist in that, mature for a time. I need to battle the destructive thinking that has been such a habit since my father left. Do you understand?”
“Can’t you mature as a married woman? We can get through it together,” he pleaded, holding my hands to his heart.
“But I want to come to you better than that. Give me some time. Scott, you need some time too. Things have been so difficult since your mother died, and now Peeps. I’ll be here. We’ll grow closer. Ask me again after a time. When we’re both whole.”
He pushed off his knees and sat beside me. He entwined our fingers and leaned in to kiss me. The wind died and the evening darkness came. I could barely see his smile. He looked at me and nodded. His smiled widened, and he chuckled.
“What?”
“I see what God is doing in you, and I like it. You can bet your sweet face I’ll ask you again.” He pulled me to my feet.
“You’d better.”
He rested his cheek against mine for a moment, and then put both his hands on my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. He brushed the hair from my forehead and lightly kissed it. I closed my eyes as he gently kissed his way down my nose until he found my mouth. I responded to the warmth of his lips on mine, lost in his love.
20
“Order up!” I called to Tracy through the diner kitchen window.
“Keep your shirt on,” Tracy teased. “I’m coming,”
Scott breezed into the kitchen and untied my apron strings. “I thought I said I didn’t want you doing so much around here.”
“Hey, I can help out if I want. Free lunch is thrown in, anyway.” I put both arms around his waist.
“How am I ever going to prove to you that it’s you I love, not your Herculean work ethic?” He reached around to tie my apron strings back in place.
“You don’t have to. I know you love me. I’m doing this because I want to.”
“In that case, I’ll have a burger with lots and lots of onions.” He blew his breath into my face.
“Fix it yourself. I’m busy.” I popped him with a dish towel.
“When are you going to be free? I want you to walk with me to the prayer garden,” Scott said.
“I’d love to. Meet me here in an hour, and we’ll walk up together.” This sounded intriguing. A month had passed since Paul’s death, and each week Scott had asked me to marry him. I wished he’d stop because I wasn’t ready. I planned to say yes someday, but not just yet. I wanted to heal, not come to Scott plagued with the insecurities of my past. So much had been accomplished in my heart, but I didn’t feel completely released from the dragons of self-doubt. I tried to think of another sweet way to put Scott off for a while.
He showed up an hour later with an extra jacket for the cold, October evening.
We walked hand in hand as far as Shelley’s, chatting about the day, the weather. Why did this feel so awkward?
“Bailey, I think you should get your father’s letter out.” He spoke with a serious tone, knowing I might balk.
“I’m not ready, Scott. I feel so good these days. What if it’s awful and sets me back?”
“I’m not telling you what to do, but I think you should get it over with. Selfish, I know, but I think you’ll be free to think about marrying me when this question in your mind about your father is answered. But more than that, I want to see a complete healing in you. I love you, Bailey. You deserve to be free from this.” He put his arms around me and hugged me. It seemed he willed courage into me with that embrace.
I looked at this man who had suffered so much over the last several months. He still walked in faith, putting one foot in front of the other no matter what happened to him. Surely I could get past this hurdle with even a little of the strength that seemed to sustain Scott. Father, help me.
He waited on the front porch as I retrieved the little box. I stuffed the letter into my jacket pocket and rejoined him. We walked silently to the prayer garden. The gazebo platform was covered with leaves. The cold penetrated my jacket and I shivered. I reached for the letter and started to open it.
“Wait just a second.” Scott put his arm around me and bowed his head. “Father, this is hard for Bailey. Help her to trust You, no matter what the letter says. Give her strength to accept the contents, whatever it is, as Your child, immovable in the knowledge that she belongs to You. That’s her identity, not anything that happened in the past.”
My breath misted visible in the cold and came faster as I opened the letter.
Scott’s arm remained around me. “Would you rather be alone?” he asked.
“Either way,” I answered.
“Then I’m staying.”
Dear Bailey,
I’m sorry I don’t have the courage to tell you to your face. You may be too young to understand, anyway. I want you to know that I really tried to stay. I guess I’m too jealous, too immature. But don’t think it has anything to do with you. I know you might have heard your mother and me argue, and I said mean things about you. I didn’t really mean it. I wanted to hurt her.
I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around to be a father to you.
Kevin Brown
Stunned, I let the single page catch the wind and float into the air. I watched it until it landed again at my feet.
“Sorry he couldn’t stick around? Is that all? He couldn’t even sign it ‘Daddy’?” I couldn’t have been any more confused, hurt, or bewildered. Head knowledge had told me forever that it wasn’t really me that broke up my parents, but I’d nursed the memory of that last awful argument until it polluted my whole life. A fight to shake it marked the paces of my life’s journey ever since I could remember. But this lame apology? Had he ever loved me?
It felt like a tube had been inserted into my chest and the energy drained from my body. I dissolved into a lump in Scott’s arms, eyes stinging, but not able to cry.
“Bailey, hold on. I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect this. I’ve stuck my nose in some serious business, and now you’re hurt. I wish I’d left well enough alone.” He held me close and tightly, as though he were afraid I might slip away.
“I think…I realize now that my whole life I secretly dreamed he’d say he loved me. I wanted him to say he loved me. I wanted him to say that I’m beautiful, smart, funny…anything.” I buried my face in Scott’s chest.
My grace is sufficient for you. I heard that somewhere in my head. I found it hard to focus, so I clung to that thought. Other phrases from this healing journey on Exit 477 bubbled up through the fog.
Faith and love, love and faith. Grace. Unmerited favor. I will never leave you or forsake you. Will you marry me? Forgive so you will be forgiven. The hurt I felt didn’t overtake me, didn’t destroy me.
I looked at Scott. He held my face in his hands. “You are beautiful, Bailey. You are smart, and you are funny. You are so much more than that. You don’t need him to say it. I’m saying it.” He kissed the tears from my eyes and then embraced me again.
“Nothing has changed. You are still loved by the Lord, still His child. You are loved by your mother, your friends, by me. I love you so much, Bailey. Don’t give in to this. Tell yourself the truth. You are a child of God. This doesn’t change that, doesn’t change your future with Him.” He whispered this tenderly.
I wanted to believe it.
Scott laid one hand on my head and prayed, entreating heaven for me to be delivered from the claw of rejection that clung for dear life in my brain. I knew that if I would agree with him, with God, it would break. Knowing that I could ch
oose lifted me out of the fog that blurred the path.
Close the door, Beloved.
Yes, Father. Yes. “Yes.” I closed my eyes and envisioned a long hallway with open doors, labeled with the many aspects of life. Some were blurred, especially the future doors. In my mind’s eye, I stood next to a door marked “Rejection.” I kicked it shut.
“Yes.” I turned to Scott, my face freezing with more tears. “I’m free.” Those words turned a switch in my spirit. Warmth flowed through my heart, and a smile sealed the deal. “Thank you, Scott.” Then looking up, “Thank You, Jesus.”
“Are you all right?” He put his hands on my shoulders and peered into my face. He must have seen the change, for a relieved smile brightened his whole face. “I thought I might die when I saw that stricken look on your face. I want you to be free, happy. I love you.” He pulled me to his chest, unzipped his jacket, and pulled it around my shoulders.
“Beloved Bailey,” he whispered in my ear.
“I just heard the Father whisper the same thing to me.” My smile began to hurt my frozen face.
“And I will always call you that, to remind you that He loves you, and I love you.” He began to shiver as well.
“Always,” I whispered.
“Because we’ll always be together? You’ll marry me?” He looked at me again, not afraid of my answer this time.
“Yes, I will. For always.”
21
“Let me get you out of this cold.” Scott took my hand and we walked back up to the house. He opened the back door, and I hurried into the warm house.
“I realize now what has been bothering Mother lately. She’s always known how much I craved my father’s love, and I think she’s always worried about what might be in that letter. Things are so clear now. She saw what I’ve struggled with all my life and didn’t want to add more to it. He never loved me at all. I think it would have thrown me, too, if I hadn’t come here and started healing. God brought me here.” I started the coffee.
“Thank heaven He did.” Scott twirled me around for another hug. The shivering nearly stopped with his arms around me.