Texas Weddings (Books One and Two): A Class of Her Own & A Chorus of One

by Janice Thompson

  Laura felt numb as they made their way outside.

  “When we get there, I’m going to let you off at the door,” Jess explained as they got into the car. “Then I’m going to park. Getting a parking space at Northwest isn’t easy. Did they say where to go? Is he in the Emergency Room, or have they moved him?”

  “I. . .I don’t know.” Laura tried to speak over the lump in her throat. “I forgot to ask.”

  “Well, we’ll start there. Don’t worry, Mom. I know he’s going to be all right.”

  Laura nodded numbly, trying to collect her thoughts. She hadn’t asked for any information at all. I don’t know who was driving, how many other people were injured, or if Kent was badly hurt. I only know that he needs me—and quickly. The ride to the hospital seemed to take forever.

  They eventually reached the hospital, though it seemed to take a lifetime.

  “Just stay calm, Mom,” Jessica said. “Don’t let Kent see you upset. You need to be strong.”

  Laura didn’t feel strong. She felt completely unprepared to face whatever lay on the other side of that door, but she had to put her best foot forward—for Kent’s sake.

  “I’m Mrs. Chapman,” she said to the first official-looking person she came in contact with.

  The elderly woman nodded compassionately. “They’ve taken your son into surgery.”

  “Surgery?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. The doctor will tell you all about it when they’re done. In the meantime, a police officer is here, waiting to speak with you.” She pointed to her right.

  Laura made her way to the officer, who sat filling out papers. “I’m Laura Chapman. Could you tell me what happened to my son?”

  “Officer Meyer.” He stuck his hand out to grasp hers. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

  “Please tell me what happened.”

  “Your son was in a major collision on I-45,” the officer explained. “Apparently, a friend of his was driving under the influence.”

  Driving under the influence? “Who? What friend?”

  “We’re still trying to determine that, Ma’am. He came in without any ID, and your son was in a state of shock—unable to identify him. The doctor will give you details when he comes out of the operating room, but I can tell you, Kent’s in pretty bad shape. A paramedic mentioned the possibility of internal bleeding. We had to Life Flight him here.”

  Laura spoke over the knot in her throat. “How did you know to call me?”

  “Kent had his permit in his wallet,” the deputy explained. “Wish the other boy had.”

  “But you’re sure Kent wasn’t driving?”

  “We’re sure. The other boy is pretty cut up—took some damage from the steering wheel and the air bag. He didn’t have a seat belt on.”

  “Oh, no. . .”

  “Would you please come and have a look at him for us? We’re really hoping you can help identify him.”

  Laura followed him to the room where the boy lay unconscious, hooked up to various machines. He was almost unrecognizable—the cuts on his face and head were bandaged, covering much of his face.

  “I know him,” she whispered. “His mother is a good friend. His name is Josh. Josh Peterson. He’s just a kid. . . .”

  “An intoxicated kid who lost control of his car and hit the railing on the interstate. He managed to hit two other cars.”

  “Did he hurt anyone else?”

  The officer shook his head. “No, not this time. But we need some information on Josh. Do you have a phone number? We’ll need to contact his parents.”

  “Is he going to be alright?” she asked, quickly scribbling the number on a piece of paper and handing it to him.

  “He looks bad, but the doctors say his wounds are superficial. If I were you, I’d focus on Kent. In fact, I’ll ask an aide to walk you down to the surgical waiting area so you’re there when they finish with him.”

  Laura followed the aide down the long hallway, a prayer on her lips the entire way. Father, I’m asking You to guard the surgeon’s hands as he operates on Kent. He needs Your healing, Lord. Help him. Help Josh. Help us all.

  Laura collapsed numbly into a chair in the waiting area. Jessica arrived, breathless, a few minutes later.

  “That parking garage is a madhouse,” she said, panting. “What did they say? Is he here?”

  “They’ve taken him to surgery,” Laura said, giving way to the tears.

  “Surgery? Why? What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t really know. The doctor will tell us when he comes out. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Wait and see?”

  “There is something you can do, Jess,” Laura said, gathering her strength. “I need you to call Grandma, and I need you to give the Petersons a call, just to make sure they got the message.”

  “What message? What do the Petersons have to do with this?”

  “Josh was driving the car. He was. . .the policeman said he was intoxicated.”

  “No!”

  “That’s what he said. But please, just make the calls. Don’t tell them that part—at least not yet. Just make sure they come. I’ve got to go in and see Josh again, make sure he’s okay. I feel like someone needs to be in there with him.” She reached out to embrace her daughter, squeezing her tightly.

  “I know everything will be okay. We’ll get through this. If God is for us—”

  “Who can be against us,” Laura finished the Scripture with her daughter’s hand tightly clutched in her own.

  nineteen

  Andrew stood in his classroom, silent after a long day’s teaching. He’d just received the news that Laura’s son had been in an accident, and Andrew found himself torn. Surely I should do something, but what? Send flowers? Drop off a card?

  Did he dare go up to the hospital? Would that be too forward? Andrew paced nervously to the board, erasing all that had been written there during the last class.

  I should go. I should. It didn’t take much more to convince himself.

  ß

  “Mom? Are you all right?”

  Laura awoke suddenly, fearfully, looking toward the hospital bed. An immediate fear gripped her. “Kent?”

  “No, Mom. It’s me, Jess. I didn’t realize you were sleeping. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Laura’s nerves calmed immediately. She turned to face her daughter, who stood in the doorway. Just the tone of Jessica’s voice soothed her. “Oh, that’s okay. I shouldn’t have been dozing.”

  “Why not? If anyone deserves to rest, you do. You’ve been shut up in this hospital room for three days now.”

  That was true, though Laura wouldn’t have had it any other way. How could she possibly leave Kent’s side? He was still not out of danger. Though the surgery to remove his lacerated spleen went well, there was still the broken arm to contend with. The orthopedist insisted Kent needed to stabilize before he could surgically repair the fracture. That surgery had taken place just this morning. It didn’t matter how long any of this took. Laura would stay regardless of how much it taxed her.

  “He’s been sleeping for hours.” She yawned loudly.

  “You need a break,” Jess said. “I thought I’d stay awhile.”

  “I could stand some food.” Laura felt a surge of strength rise within her. “Maybe I could go down to the cafeteria. Have you eaten?”

  “Yep. Stopped off at the cafeteria after class.”

  Laura’s heart twisted within her as she thought about the classes she had missed. “How was school? Were you able to make it to all of your classes?”

  “Yep. Everything at school is fine.” Her daughter reached into her backpack to pull out some papers. “These are from Dougherty. He said he hopes to see you soon—whatever that means.”

  “Did you tell him?” Laura didn’t know why it seemed important that he know. . .but it did, somehow.

  “Yeah.” He looked pretty shook up but said not to worry about class, that
everything would be fine. He knows you’re a good student.”

  “Humph. Don’t know about that.”

  “Well, anyway. I told him you were shut up here with little to do, so he sent some work over. Hope that’s all right.”

  “Sure. Whatever. I need something to pass the time.” While she had been intent on staying by Kent’s side, there had been little to do but watch TV, chat with the doctor about his condition, and pray. Laura had done a lot of praying over the last few days.

  “Anything else?”

  “I talked to Madeline. She also said not to worry—you’ve got several sick days coming to you.”

  “Yeah, but the day after Thanksgiving is the busiest day of the year,” Laura said nervously. “I know she’ll need me then.”

  “Let’s just take this one day at a time, Mom.”

  Laura nodded. She was right. Besides, Laura couldn’t do anything about it, anyway. “Anything else going on that I need to know about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, in that case, I’d love to get some coffee and something to nibble on.” Laura looked around the room, still feeling a little unsure about leaving.

  “Go on. . . ,” Jess urged.

  “I’ll be in the cafeteria if anyone needs me. And I may stop by the chapel for a few minutes afterwards.” I’ve meant to do that for days.

  Jessica nodded. “Go on, Mom. Get out of here for a while. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  Laura nodded, turning to leave the room. As much as she hated to go, she felt she had to get out for at least a few minutes. She made her way down to the cafeteria, finding a spot at a table where she could be alone to drink her coffee and nibble on a banana. She then headed back toward the room, walking slowly through the now-familiar halls of the first floor of Northwest Hospital.

  Laura paused at the chapel door. I should go inside. To be honest, she had avoided it for days, though she couldn’t put her finger on a legitimate reason. A hospital chapel shouldn’t frighten her. She tiptoed into the empty room, making her way to the altar where a Bible lay open.

  Quietly she sank to her knees, though doing so felt a little awkward. Once there, the tears began to flow. She hadn’t planned them. They just seemed to erupt from a deep place within her—a place that needed comforting. Where the words came from, she wasn’t quite sure, but they began to flow too.

  “Father, do You ever get tired of hearing how much I need You? If it’s a lack of faith on my part, then give me more. I need You more than ever. I don’t know how to make it through this alone. I can’t do it on my own. Take care of Kent, Father. Heal him. Mend his broken heart so he can let go of the anger he’s been holding onto. Lord, I pray that Your work would be complete, not just in Kent, but in me. Take away the things in my life that aren’t pleasing to You. Make me the woman you want me to be. Help me to know how to show Your love to the people You’ve placed in my life.”

  Laura poured her heart out to the Lord, begging Him to spare her son, and asking Him to forgive her for every conceivable thing she could think of. Somehow, at the end of it all, she felt the burden lift.

  ß

  Andrew Dougherty stood outside the chapel of Northwest Hospital, listening. Jessica had said he might find Laura here, though he was completely unprepared for the way he found her. She was praying, actually praying out loud, and on her knees.

  As a child, he had spent many hours on his own knees—punishment from a stern mother who used prayer as a means to an end: to bring him to repentance for his thoroughly wicked deeds. He had spent more time daydreaming than praying back then, but if he had known prayer could be this simple, he might have tried it.

  Andrew had never heard anyone pray like this before. Laura’s words were genuine, heartfelt. They spoke volumes. He felt like a traitor as he strained to hear each and every word. They weren’t his to hear, and yet somehow they sounded as comfortable and comforting as anything he had heard in a long, long time.

  “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind. . . .” The Scripture ran through his head once again. For the first time in his life, he began to understand just how possible that could be. Lord, is it really that easy? Do I just talk to You like she’s doing? Can it be that simple?

  Relief flooded his soul. Perhaps this wasn’t something he would have to earn. Maybe it wouldn’t require a huge amount of study on his part. Perhaps all he had to do was just believe.

  ß

  The sound of a man’s cough at the chapel door roused Laura from the altar. She wiped at her eyes, trying to get control of her emotions. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, even a stranger. Laura reached for a tissue but couldn’t seem to find one.

  “Here you go.” A man pressed a tissue into her hand.

  She didn’t dare look up. “Thank you.”

  “I hoped I’d find you here,” he said softly.

  Laura suddenly recognized the voice. She turned, finding herself face-to-face with Andrew Dougherty. Instinctively, she reached out to take the hand he offered, letting him pull her to a standing position. His arm slipped around her shoulder in a warm, sincere hug. There was nothing uncomfortable or awkward about it.

  Wrapped in his embrace, she felt completely free to let the tears flow. Her face found its way to his shoulder, where she buried it, sobbing uncontrollably. He wrapped both arms around her, whispering gentle words of reassurance. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly, running his fingers through her hair. Laura found comfort in his touch. He had come at just the right moment. She needed someone to be there just then. She’d longed for it for quite some time, though she hadn’t realized just how much.

  But Andrew Dougherty?

  Funny. His touch was tender, loving, nothing like she would have expected. He caressed her hair with his fingertips, pausing to brush it from her eyes. None of this made sense, and yet she couldn’t deny the feeling of peace and satisfaction she felt wrapped up in his arms. The whole thing felt perfectly natural. It felt good.

  Too good.

  After a few moments she pulled away, looking in the other direction. Embarrassment filled her. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  ß

  “Please, don’t be sorry.” Andrew felt his heart swell. “I wanted to be here for you. It’s the least I can do.”

  Laura Chapman had felt good in his arms. So very good. The scent of her shampoo lingered, dizzying him. It had been years since he had been close enough to a woman to smell that. His fingers had run through her hair with a mind of their own. That lustrous hair of hers had always been a temptation for him. Andrew’s arms ached to reach for her again, to wrap her up into them and whisper comforting words to her. It felt so right.

  Andrew could no longer deny his ever-growing feelings.

  He spoke softly. “That prayer of yours. . .”

  “You heard me pray?”

  “Yes. That prayer was beautiful. I haven’t heard anything so incredible since I was a kid in Sunday school.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  “No, I’m not.” He meant every word of it.

  “You were a Sunday school kid? That’s hard to believe.”

  “I know, but it’s true,” Andrew said with a sigh. “Somewhere along the way, I turned my back on God. When I got to my teens, I guess. I remember accepting Christ at an altar when I was nine. It seems like a lifetime ago. But I never learned to pray like that. Never.”

  “It’s pretty simple. You talk, He listens. He talks, you listen.”

  Andrew shook his head in disbelief. “In the academic world, everything has to be earned—every grade, every promotion. Everything. Nothing comes easy.”

  “Prayer should.”

  “I can see that. Now. I’m not sure what I’ve believed about God since my days in college. It’s like I put Him away on a shelf and forgot about Him.”

  “What about now? What do you believe?”

  “I believe. . .” Here Andrew hesitated. He wasn’t comple
tely sure how to go about saying what was in his heart. “For years, I’ve been frustrated. So many things have happened to make me give up on God and on people—mostly women.”

  “Women? Why?”

  How could he begin to explain why? “I was engaged once, but something happened on the way to the church.”

  “She broke your heart?”

  Andrew nodded lamely. “Yeah.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It wasn’t so hard to figure out that someone must have hurt you at some point along the way. Is that why you’re so angry with God?”

  “What do you mean? Who said anything about that?” He would admit to a lot of things but not that.

  “Isn’t that what this is all about?” Laura asked. “I know I’ve had to struggle with that. Ever since Greg died, I’ve been so mad at God, I hardly knew how to function. But admitting it is half of the battle. It gets easier after that.”

  Andrew laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are something else. Just about the time I think I’ve got you figured out, I find out that there’s so much more.”

  “I’m not such a bad person,” Laura said with a smile. She looked down at her watch and gasped. “I have to get back up to the room. Jessica is up there alone with Kent, and I need to be with her.”

  “Would you mind if I came along?” He almost dreaded her answer.

  To his relief, she shrugged. “No, come if you like. I’m sure Jess would be glad to see you.”

  He walked beside her, chatting all the way. What he wanted to do—what he longed to do—was to pull her close to him and tell her everything would be all right. Would she think him awful if he reached for her now? No, that wouldn’t be the appropriate thing to do. What had happened in the chapel had been perfectly natural, perfectly comfortable, but anything more would spoil an otherwise perfect moment.

  Andrew continued to ramble on about everything from the weather to his latest history quiz. Truth be told, he was so nervous, much of what he said didn’t make a lot of sense. Not that she seemed to notice. Laura’s mind appeared to be a million miles away.