Fall From Grace

by Kelsey MacBride

  Propped up in the bed, Kevin began to cry. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” He could barely see his sister’s face through the tears. “I’m sorry, Crys. I’m so sorry. I should have slept before I picked her up. I should have paid attention. I should’ve—” For a time, words failed him, and he covered his face with his hands, sobbing. “It should have been me, not her. I ...” He trailed off.

  Crystal did not touch him. She didn’t say anything. Standing by the bedside, she looked like a marble statue of an angel over someone’s grave: the same rigid stance, the same quiet expression of suffering.

  “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

  The air left her lungs in one long rush. She glanced down, knotting her hands in front of her. “It’s not your fault, Kevin,” she said finally. “The other driver went through the light. You had the right of way.” There was a heavy silence. “But I’m so angry with God,” she continued quietly. “I’m so angry. I can’t believe He let this happen.” She ran her hands through her hair, turned away, and left. The door swung closed behind her, and all Kevin had the strength to do was stare at his hands and cry.

  Crystal was right. Why would a loving God have allowed such a precious soul to be taken so cruelly—for what noble purpose? He raised his eyes to the white light above his desk and prayed for an answer. Why, God? Why Sarah? Why us? Why not me? Kevin waited for what felt like an eternity, but he never received a reply.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft woman’s voice.

  “Hey, are you alright? You look kinda pale.” The woman grinned as she popped her head past the doorway to his office.

  Kevin turned and recognized Heather Parks, one of the nurses on duty that evening. He had met her during his first year of residency at Harbor, and when he had found out Heather was a devout Christian, she had become one of his most trusted friends. But that was during the beginning of their friendship. Nowadays, it seemed they only saw each other when chance allowed them to pass each other in the hallway during their shifts.

  Kevin turned and gazed into her hazel eyes as a faint smile rolled off his lips. “Could be better, but I’m hanging in there.”

  “I know we don’t talk with each other as much as we used to, but I’m always here if you need someone. I heard you haven’t been the same since the Rachel Knight case.”

  “Who told you?” His voice pitched higher.

  Heather shrugged her shoulders. “One of the surgical nurses on call that night. You know how gossip spreads like wildfire around here.”

  The muscle tensed in Kevin’s cheek. “Is that what they say? I forgot this place can be just as bad as some of the tabloid magazines. I’d hate to think what would have happened if I actually spilled my guts to someone about how I’m really feeling.”

  “You know you can trust me, don’t you?”

  Kevin could see the genuine concern and innocence in Heather’s eyes. He knew she was a committed Christian, who attended church regularly, participated in women’s Bible studies, and had a strong walk with the Lord. There were only two Christian co-workers he trusted and the other one was his colleague Dr. Turner. He trusted Heather like his own sister, Crystal and knew she would never divulge the private struggles in his life. She had been a source of encouragement to him in his early Christian walk after his breakup with Becca. Heather often reminded him that he needed to be patient. That God would fulfill the desires of his heart and bring the right Christian woman into his life. Kevin soon became fond of their friendship and felt himself being drawn to her calm spirit and caring nature. Whenever they bumped into each other at the hospital cafeteria, which was often, he would invite her to join him for lunch. Their friendship deepened over time and soon he began looking forward to their next chance meeting.

  But then Heather vanished suddenly for a while as if she had been secretly raptured. For several months, she was nowhere to be found, and his calls were forwarded to her voicemail. He questioned the other nurses and to his surprise, discovered she had requested a transfer to the home health care division of a sister hospital a few hours away. It wasn’t until six months later they ran into each other in the hallway of the ER room. His heart had skipped a beat at the sight of her, and she had been just as surprised at their unexpected meeting. That day, their conversation flowed freely as if they had never been separated. But Kevin could sense something different about Heather. She had lost that spark in her eye, and he detected a hint of sadness in her voice. Since that day, it seemed their relationship drifted apart like two sailboats in the ocean of life. While they still remained good friends, he could sense their relationship would never be the same.

  Kevin smiled at Heather. “Yes, of course, I trust you. I’m sorry if I haven’t kept in touch lately. It’s just that I feel a little overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.”

  “No problem. I know it can be devastating to lose a patient, especially one so young. We all go through those moments in our career, and sometimes it’s hard not to take it personally.”

  Kevin’s head motioned sideways. “That’s not the part I’m having trouble with. It’s because the girl reminded me of Sarah, my niece.”

  “Oh.” Heather’s voice trailed off. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She wrapped a comforting arm around Kevin’s shoulder. “You must feel awful. You should have called me sooner. I would have prayed with you.”

  “I know you would have. But I’ve been feeling lost, confused, and angry at everything that’s happened. It’s been difficult for me to feel like being close to God right now, or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Kevin, what you’re feeling is natural. Sometimes the cloud of darkness is so thick, we can’t see the sunshine of God’s love on the other side. That’s why God encourages us to seek the comfort of our brothers and sisters. We weren’t meant to walk this narrow path alone. Have you thought about going to counseling?”

  “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. But I’m not ready to share my deepest thoughts with a complete stranger. At least not right now.”

  “Well, I’m not a stranger, so that should make it easier for you to talk with me.”

  “I know you’re not. But it just seems our friendship isn’t the same like it used to be, especially after you transferred from Harbor for six months. It feels like we’re not close anymore. Did I do something wrong?” His eyes stared into hers as he waited for some reasonable explanation, something that would let him know their friendship still meant something to her. That he hadn’t offended her.

  She gave him a nervous smile and rested a hand on his shoulder. “No, it wasn’t you. It was me. I just had a lot going on in my life, and I needed time to think things through. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

  Kevin breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize. I’m glad it wasn’t me. I was beginning to worry I did something to ruin what we had.”

  Her brows lowered with confusion. “What we had?”

  “I meant our friendship,” he added hastily.

  Heather’s frown turned into a soft smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Kevin, you’ve always been a good friend. I’m sorry if you feel like you can’t share your feelings right now. I understand. When the time is right, and you decide you’re ready to talk with someone, I’m just a phone call away.”

  Kevin thanked her for being there for him, and she gave him a long hug before heading off to her next patient. Kevin watched in silence as Heather made her way down the hall and vanished around the corner. He was glad they had cleared up any misunderstanding and that they were still on good speaking terms. He silently scolded himself for almost letting his feelings slip past his mouth. Even though being in any relationship was the farthest thing from his mind, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away and ruin the good friendship they had established. Maybe in the future, if he could get his life together, he would broach the subject of seeing each other seriously. But, for now, it took everything he had to survive one day a
t a time.

  With a sigh of defeat, he packed up his briefcase and began his trip back home. His tortuous day at work was now finished, and it was time for him to slip into another world. A world he kept hidden from those working closely with him, a world he couldn’t find in his heart to share with Heather or Brian.

  Chapter 7

  Stephanie sat at her parents’ kitchen table, fingers curled around a mug of hot coffee. She had been spending a lot of mornings like this, staring into the steam from the mug. The light from the rising sun climbed up the wall. New day; same old world.

  Thomas had left town the week after Rachel’s funeral. He’d left a voicemail on her phone that was mostly silence. “I gotta get out of here, Steph. I’m sorry. I hope you can be happy again.” Briefly, she had thought about calling him back, but then she’d decided it didn’t matter.

  She understood now that Thomas had lost much like her if perhaps in a different way. And truthfully, she envied him for his ability to extricate himself from the site of his personal tragedy; it was something she knew she would never be able to do. To leave California would be to leave Rachel behind, which was unthinkable.

  She was, however, thinking very seriously about selling her house. She’d been back home on and off since burying her daughter. One time even for a whole week. But the place felt too big now, too empty. She could barely bring herself to go up to the second floor, let alone anywhere near Rachel’s room. It was nothing like the home it used to be. Instead of comfort, it filled her with a deep, aching sadness.

  “Put it on the market and move in here,” her mother, Valerie, had suggested when Stephanie voiced her thoughts. “There’s plenty of room here for you, darling. We all need each other right now.”

  Her mother’s gracious offer sounded good to Stephanie. Besides, she needed the money. She had tried to return to work after the accident, but she couldn’t manage to get through a day without breaking down. After four days, she’d stopped trying. Now, her morning ritual was just a slow cup of coffee and, for the last week, perusing through the newspaper and phone book turning to the real estate section.

  In a different time, Stephanie might have tackled the challenge of selling the house on her own; she always thrived on the task of being her own interior decorator. But she was hardly in any emotional shape to take on such a large project herself—it was all she could do to drag herself out of bed. So she slogged through the listings of real estate agents, checking the Internet as well, for a nice, dignified name that sounded like it belonged to someone who wouldn’t take advantage of her.

  And that’s how she ended up on the phone with Eliza Rosenbarr the day before last, chatting about how best to sell the house she’d bought in which to raise her only child. On the other end of the line, Eliza’s young voice, though thoroughly professional with a genuine sweetness, reminded Stephanie of Rachel and made her heart ache.

  Before she knew it, Stephanie was pouring her heart out to this kind stranger, telling her the whole unspeakably sad story. She didn’t realize until the end how desperate she must have sounded and felt embarrassed by her inability to handle the situation like a functional adult.

  But Eliza received her sorrow with endless grace. She listened much more than she talked, but the words she did say felt intensely sincere. She expressed her own sadness over such a heartbreaking event. She said she was so, so sorry. She asked if Stephanie would be okay and if there was anything she could do.

  Talking to Eliza was more like talking to a neighbor than a listing agent, and even though Stephanie hadn’t called for the express purpose of impromptu therapy, some intangible weight had lifted when she finally hung up the phone. She had accomplished something that day. Her house was set to be appraised. God willing, it would soon be sold. And then maybe she could begin to heal at last.

  All that progress, however, evaporated the moment Stephanie pulled into her driveway a few days later. She’d come back to clean some things out in preparation for the appraisal, and as she sat in her parked car, staring at the front door, she realized she wasn’t ready. There were so many bits and pieces of her daughter still lingering inside that house—how could she have thought it was already time to get rid of it?

  A tight knot of panic closed around her chest, and she pulled her phone out of her purse, scrolling through her contacts in search of Eliza’s number. She had to call, before it was too late and her rash decision turned into a permanent, huge mistake.

  Heart hammering, Stephanie listened to Eliza’s phone ringing in her ear, reminding herself to breathe. This was not the reaction she’d expected from herself. Bittersweet sadness? Yes. Tears? Oh yes. But a panic attack? That was new, and not a good sign, either. Deep breaths. Think of something happy. The problem was, there wasn’t anything happy to think of.

  Stephanie’s racing thoughts were interrupted abruptly by the sound of Eliza’s phone line transferring to voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached Eliza Rosenbarr. I’m with a client at the moment, so please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” This time, the young woman’s voice only heightened Stephanie’s anxiety. She left a terse, hurried message, and her thumb pressed hard against the touch screen. Her hands were shaking, but she did feel better. The phone went back into her bag, and she buried her head in her hands, clutching her temples hard. What a mess.

  She didn’t go into the house that day. Instead, she drove back to her mom’s house, climbed the stairs, and lay down on her bed to wait for the dreamless crush of sleep.

  When she awoke the next morning, she had a missed call and a voicemail from her would-be real estate agent. Stephanie deleted the mail without listening. Safe at home, her mind clear of the fears that had clouded it the day before, she felt a sharp sting of shame at her actions. The logical thing to do now would have been to return Eliza’s call, explain herself, and either reschedule the appraisal or tell her politely that her services wouldn’t be needed, after all

  But Stephanie’s paralyzing grief overpowered all reason, and so she pretended the voice message had never reached her. She pushed herself out of bed, glanced at the sallow, sagging creature in the mirror, and wandered into the bathroom. After a quick brushing of hair and teeth, washing of face and application of lipstick, she began to recognize herself at least as functioning human. She ran a hand down the side of her face, her fingertips pulling downward at the flesh of her cheeks and jaw. Then she went down to the kitchen.

  Valerie stood at the counter, studiously brewing a cup of coffee. Stephanie’s father, Howard, had gotten the bright idea to get his wife one of those new, automatic coffeemakers for her recent birthday, and it was clear she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it yet. The sight of her peering diligently through her glasses at the cluster of buttons on top coaxed a smile across Stephanie’s face.

  “Morning, Mom,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  Her mom triumphantly pressed a button, and the machine began to whir convincingly. “I think I’ve figured it out,” she said, turning to beam at her daughter. “Sit down, dear, I’ll get your mug ready.”

  “Thanks.” Stephanie slid into her usual chair, listening to the clinking sound of porcelain and the hum of the fridge as it opened and closed. The coffeemaker entered brewing stage, and over the next few minutes, the rich scent of coffee crept into the air. Moments before the maker’s alarm chimed, Stephanie spoke, gazing down at her clasped hands on the tabletop. “Mom, do you think I should go to the doctor?”

  “What kind of doctor?” Her mother’s voice was even and unassuming, but Stephanie knew she already understood where the conversation was going.

  “Like a therapist,” she said. “To talk about Rachel. I don’t think I’m getting better.”

  Valerie Knight turned to face her daughter, sadness and sympathy written all over her kindly face. “Honey,” she said, “don’t think you need to rush yourself. Nobody’s kicking you out of here.”

  Stephanie sighed. “I know, but ...” She twisted a
lock of her unwashed hair around her index finger. “I cancelled the appraisal on the house yesterday.”

  She had expected her mom to be surprised, perhaps even a little angry, but Valerie just nodded, turning to lift the coffeemaker’s carafe out of its socket. “I thought you might do that,” she said quietly.

  “You did?”

  Valerie poured into the two mugs, steam rising around her like a veil. “Let me tell you something, Stephie,” she began as she brought the mugs to the table. “If I lost you, I don’t really know if I’d ever recover.” She looked into Stephanie’s eyes. “And you’re a grown woman. You’ve got your own life now.” She took a long sip and swallowed thoughtfully. “I admire you for trying so hard to get back on the horse, honey. But sometimes it’s better just to slow down and let the bruises hurt instead of rushing through the pain.”

  “I wish they were only bruises,” Stephanie whispered. Her mom reached across the table and took one of her hands. She bit her lip. “I feel like I failed, Mom.”

  “I know.” Valerie squeezed gently. “And I won’t lie to you—you’ll probably feel at least a little bit that way for a long, long time. But there are things in life that we just can’t know about. And if we don’t know, there’s precious little we can do.”

  “But I should have known,” Stephanie persisted. “I never let her go anywhere without an adult driving the car. I should have reminded her. I should have assumed that she’d try to test those boundaries.” She could feel the familiar lump rising in the back of her throat, the hot flush on her cheeks. “She would have listened if I said something. She was such a good girl.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with a napkin. “I just wish ...” There she had to stop. What did she wish? Her faith instructed her to believe that heaven was a better place for Rachel, and she wanted to. The human, selfish part of her, however, couldn’t have been more wounded. “People talk to God all the time,” she told her mother. “Or at least they say they do. Why didn’t He warn me? Why didn’t He tell me that He needed to take my child?” That’s what hurt, she decided. The senselessness.