A Promise of Grace

by Lynette Sowell

  She stepped into the crosswalk. A dark sedan took the corner. Cars moved so, so quickly.

  Jacob’s throat clenched. He darted forward. “Rebecca!”

  She froze and looked back at him, then at the car.

  The thud wrenched a shout from Jacob.

  Rebecca’s scream stung his ears.

  He reached the corner as Rebecca’s dish of ice cream landed on the warm asphalt.

  * * *

  A compound femur fracture, a hematoma on the brain, a concussion. But no internal injuries. Jacob found one thing to be thankful for, besides the fact that Rebecca now breathed peacefully, sedated because of her injuries, in the intensive care unit.

  How close they’d come to losing her two days ago.

  The driver of the car, a young Mennonite woman returning home after visiting her grandparents, had dissolved into a heap on the pavement, sobbing upon leaving the driver’s seat.

  On Christmas break from college in Virginia, she’d borrowed her parents’ vehicle and had been hurrying home to get ready for a date. She looked more Englisch than anything in her shorts, T-shirt, and flip-flops, but knew enough Deutsch to speak to him and the family after the accident.

  She hadn’t seen Rebecca, who’d been walking with the light while the young woman turned. Children moved so quickly. The police weren’t going to press charges. Jacob didn’t think pressing charges would serve any purpose. This young woman deserved grace, and was suffering enough for one mistake.

  Jacob sat up a little straighter in the cushioned chair in the intensive care unit. It had been his fault, really. He should have watched Rebecca more closely, should have kept her nearer to him, insisted she stop and wait for him to cross the street with her. He should have been firmer.

  “She’s always been the more willful one of your children,” Ephraim observed.

  “Ach, it’s true. Hannah always knew . . .” Yes, Hannah had always known how to handle Rebecca. Gotte, what am I going to do now?

  “You’ll have to stay in Pinecraft, far longer than Christmas.”

  “A long time.” But he had a job in Ohio, and had to support his family. Yet, he wouldn’t leave his daughter. Not here. Not alone, her body broken and her brain swollen, although she’d be with family.

  No, he would stay here in Sarasota for as long as it took for Rebecca to get well again.

  But Sarasota had turned out to be a far, far more dangerous place than he’d ever imagined. He had a nagging feeling Sarasota held more dangers for them still.

  * * *

  “Natalie, dear, I wish you’d change your mind and join us for Christmas dinner,” said Grace Montgomery. “You shouldn’t have eaten alone. Come for pie, or something.”

  Natalie Bennett held her cell phone close to her ear, but not too close. She stood in the lobby of Sarasota General Hospital.

  “Too late, I’m already at the hospital. But thanks for inviting me.” She tried not to smudge her clown makeup. She hadn’t brought her emergency makeup kit to fix any damage to the face she’d taken great care to paint not quite an hour ago.

  “At least come for dessert later, please?” Even over the phone, Grace’s sound of longing and gentle insistence couldn’t be missed.

  “All right, I will.” A few passersby glanced Natalie’s way and smiled at her getup. “I forgot to give you and Todd your gift the other night at the office party.”

  “Sweetie, you didn’t have to get us anything.”

  “I know. But I wanted to.” She glanced around. “Hey, I’ll call you later. People are probably wondering who Bubbles the Clown is talking to on the phone.”

  “Just come on over once you’re through.”

  “You’ve got it. Merry Christmas.” Natalie ended the call and slipped the phone into her tote bag, full of tricks and novelties for the children she’d soon visit. She also toted a mesh bag stuffed with oranges from the tree in her apartment complex’s yard. The kids would love them. Right. Who was she kidding? She should have brought chocolate bars. Being in the hospital at Christmas was as much fun as getting socks for a present. An orange probably wouldn’t help soothe things like chocolate.

  Part of her wished she’d told Grace, her boss, mentor, and friend, about her lack of Christmas plans, but then she didn’t want the sympathy. Maybe Grace wouldn’t have felt too sorry for her. Grace, like most people attached to the circus world, knew the traveling life quite well. Holidays and roots weren’t the same for them. Natalie knew full well. She couldn’t miss what she’d never had, could she?

  A Christmas tree had sprouted in the main lobby of the hospital, and its twenty-foot artificial glory twinkled like a beacon against anyone who dared say that Christmas had forgotten the sick and injured children of Sarasota. A Chanukah menorah glowed on the fireplace mantel in the seating area.

  Natalie headed for the elevator and braced herself for the atmosphere awaiting her in the ward. If they lived in a perfect world, no one would be in the hospital at Christmas. No one would be sick. They’d all have their Norman Rockwell scenes around dining room tables, and moms and dads would yawn over their ham or turkey after staying up late putting together toys. Kids would giggle around Christmas trees and then pass out like the little boy in A Christmas Story, clutching his zeppelin. But not these kids in the pediatrics wing.

  Natalie was used to nontraditional Christmases, and some of the children she was about to visit were, too. Chronic illness and severe injuries didn’t take holidays.

  But Christmas, Natalie had learned over the years, could come anywhere. Natalie didn’t put up a tree or send cards, although she was fond of the Christmas music classics. Dad always played them when they were on the road with the Circus Du Monde. He and Mom would dance to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” on Christmas night, wherever they were, and then Dad would hit the makeshift dance floor with Natalie.

  Then they’d turn out all the lights and light one candle as Dad read the Christmas story from a Gideon Bible he’d swiped from a hotel somewhere. She never understood how the baby Jesus story related to dancing around a Christmas tree. Even now, the side-by-side secular and religious traditions sometimes didn’t mesh well to her. But she discovered she loved the Christmas Eve candlelight service at church. It was there for the first time, three Christmases ago, the realization that God really loved her—Natalie Anne Bennett—hit her with full force. She’d spent the last two years figuring out what that meant, and how she ought to respond with her life.

  Which meant she didn’t need the Christmas tree or dozens of presents. What she needed was right here, hallways of children and their families waiting for a little joy. It was her way to give back in one of the best ways she knew.

  Her throat caught at her own Christmas memories, and she took a deep breath as she pushed the button for the elevator. Bittersweet emotions didn’t fit with what she was about to do. Clowns weren’t supposed to be bittersweet.

  Natalie took the elevator to the main pediatrics floor and checked in at the reception desk with the charge nurse who today wore a Santa cap. Multicolored twinkle lights flashed along the aqua blue counter.

  “Hey, Miss Fran. Merry Christmas.” She made her best clown’s face for the nurse and held up an orange from her bag.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too, Natalie.” With a big smile on her dark face, the woman rounded the counter and gave Natalie a hug that threatened to crack her ribs. Natalie was careful not to get makeup on the nurse’s scrubs. “Why are you here today? You should be with friends or family.”

  “Same reason as you,” Natalie replied. “For the kids.”

  “Ha, you’re not gettin’ paid double time today.” Fran chuckled as she took the orange, returning to the other side of the counter. She tucked the orange next to a stack of files beside a computer monitor. “Course, I’m not missing out, either. My Tonya’s going to have the ham done by the time I get off tonight. And sweet potato soufflé, just like I taught her to make it.”

  “Sounds yummy.
So, who do we have that needs a little cheer? Anything special I should know?”

  “We have a new patient, just moved to the floor from ICU. 304. I think she could use some extra cheering up today. You might want to start with her and her family.” An alert chime sounded at a console behind the counter. “Gotta run, sweet pea. See you in a bit.”

  Natalie called out, “See you,” as Fran hit overdrive toward the room with a light flashing above the door. Natalie made her way to room 304.

  People in less-than-festive clothing, women in long dresses, plain primary colors, wearing white head coverings, and a few men with beards, dark trousers, and some in matching dark vests, clustered inside the sitting room. Amish, waiting their turn to visit someone. She made a clown’s smile at them all and waved as she passed them in her rainbow-striped clown suit and flaming red wig with long braids.

  Natalie entered the hospital room with brisk steps and skidded to a stop. The little girl, the new patient Fran mentioned, lay on the bed, whispering something to her bearded father, who touched her head gently. Her right leg was in traction and a monitor flashed the girl’s vital signs. Poor kid. Natalie definitely should have brought a chocolate bar.

  Her father looked in Natalie’s direction and stiffened. He stood. His blue eyes looked troubled. And like the people in the waiting room, he wore the classic dark pants of the Amish with a white shirt and suspenders.

  “Hello.” Natalie tried to stay in character. “I’m Bubbles the Clown, and I wanted to visit and cheer you up today, and wish you a Merry Christmas.” She almost let her words falter at seeing the expression on the father’s face. Did the Amish even celebrate Christmas? She probably ought to focus more on entertaining the little girl and forget mentioning the holiday anymore.

  The father was tall, with sandy brown hair and beard, blue eyes, and a dark expression. The beard lent some age to his face, but Natalie figured he might be about her age, or maybe about thirty or so. A young woman next to him wore a dark blue dress with a white apron. She whispered to the man who stood beside the girl’s father. Brothers, Natalie guessed, by the shape of their noses and eyes.

  One bearded man in the corner wore dark trousers and a tropical print shirt, along with suspenders. Now that was something you didn’t see every day. She tried not to stare at him, like the rest of them stared at her.

  “Jacob,” said the older brother. “It won’t hurt for the children to laugh for a few minutes. Come on in, Miss, uh, Bubbles.”

  A small boy sat in the chair in the corner, his skinny legs tucked under his chin. “Can you juggle?” He had a bit of a singsong tone to his voice, with almost a German accent. He reminded her of a mouse, with his guarded expression and a hint of mischief in his round brown eyes. His thick brown hair sprouted a bowl cut that ended at his ears.

  “Yes, I can,” Natalie replied. She set her tie-dyed tote bag on the floor and snatched out three small rubber balls. “It’s not so hard. See? Start with one ball.”

  The boy sat up straighter, then shifted to the edge of the cushioned seat. His eyes followed the journey as Natalie circulated the balls from one hand, to the air, then to the other hand.

  “I wish I could do that,” came a quiet voice from the bed. The little girl, older than her brother, shifted on the mattress. Pain shadowed her blue eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Rebecca.”

  “Well, Rebecca, I bet you could learn, quick as anything, after you get better.” Natalie stopped the balls, ending up with two in her left hand and one in her right. “It takes practice, but if you stick with it, you’ll likely be better than I am someday.”

  “Thank you for coming to visit today,” said the young woman in the blue dress. She didn’t seem much older than Natalie. “My name’s Katie Miller, and this is my husband Ephraim, and my brother-in-law Jacob. It’s nice of you to visit on a holiday.” Katie offered her hand, which Natalie shook.

  “I’m Zeke,” came a little voice from the chair. The little tyke with the big eyes and long legs smiled at her.

  “Hi, Zeke, and Katie, and all the Miller family. It’s nice to meet you, although I’m sorry it’s here in the hospital, especially on Christmas Day,” Natalie replied. Katie. That had been her mother’s name. But by the time Natalie had come around, she’d gone by Kat for several years.

  “Gotte has a purpose in our being here,” Jacob Miller said, and stroked his daughter’s head. “I’m thankful He spared her life.”

  Natalie nodded. This wasn’t her usual cheer-me-up visit. The kids had smiled at the juggling. “I brought you a present.” She went to fetch her bag of oranges.

  “How did you know to bring me a present, if you didn’t know I was going to be here?” asked Rebecca.

  “I knew some special kids would be here, and they should get oranges from the tree in my yard.” Natalie drew two oranges out of the bag, and set the bag on the bed near Rebecca’s feet. She gave the fruit a quick juggle, then presented one to Zeke and one to Rebecca.

  “My mammi and daadi have grapefruit trees in their yard,” said Rebecca. Her small hands massaged the pebbly surface of the orange. “But I like oranges better.”

  “Say thank you,” reminded their father.

  “Thank you.” Rebecca smiled at Jacob, then Natalie.

  What a tightly knit family. Natalie found she couldn’t keep in character today. What was it about this family? She knew part of the answer lay at home, in a box her father had shipped to her just in time for Christmas. Too bad FedEx was so efficient. The box could have arrived after Christmas, and it would have been fine with her.

  The orange slipped from Rebecca’s grasp, tumbling onto the blanket. Rebecca’s hands shook in a frenzy. Her head snapped back, her limbs stiffened. The vital signs monitor went crazy with beeps and alarms.

  “Fran!” Natalie darted from the room and onto the floor. “She’s seizing!”

  The nurse was already flying around the desk, her bulky form moving with uncanny speed. Natalie had seen this before. She darted to the side to let Fran in. Another nurse dialed a pager.

  The Millers joined Natalie in the hallway, and little Zeke was already sobbing. “My ’Becca.”

  Natalie squatted and touched his shoulder. “She’s exactly where she needs to be right now, sweetie. She’s being taken care of.” Although she could make no promises for what lay ahead for the little girl.

  “You’re right,” said Jacob Miller. He pulled Zeke closer to him. “We must find the others and let them know. We were taking turns, visiting her today.”

  The family filed toward the waiting room and left Rebecca to the doctor’s care. Jacob, however, cast a worried glance at his daughter, then at Natalie. His look of sorrow pierced her heart.

  Katie Miller glanced at Natalie. “We are going to go pray for Rebecca. Will you join us?”

  Natalie nodded. “Of course.” She ought to go to another room, and let this family do what they felt they must. But she followed them anyway.

  When she entered the waiting room, the television set was off and the dark-clothed people were standing. A few of the women, about her age, wore pastel-colored dresses.

  She bowed her head as they did, and one of the older men began to speak in another language. German, or Dutch, she figured. She didn’t know the words, but felt the power and sincerity behind them.

  Dear God, please guide the doctors. Take care of little Rebecca. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but You do. Work through these gifted people who are caring for her now, Natalie prayed silently.

  A warm, small hand slipped into hers and squeezed. Zeke Miller looked up at her with his mouse-eyes. Natalie squeezed back.

 

 

 
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