by Dan Walsh
“JD,” she called again. “Got something for you.”
“Why don’t you go find out?” Taylor said.
JD took a few steps toward her voice. “You coming?” he said, turning to Taylor.
“I don’t recall hearing my name. Go see what she wants. Like you said, she’s a nice person. When a nice person calls your name, saying they have something for you, it’s usually something nice.”
JD took a few more steps, wrapped his blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. “Andrea?” he yelled back. “I’m in here, in these woods.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t had breakfast yet,” she said. “Brought you some.”
Okay, JD thought, Taylor was right. “I’m coming.” He carefully stepped through the wet leaves and broken branches, pushed aside the palm fronds, tried to keep them from slapping him in the face. Finally, he got through it all.
“Hi, JD,” Andrea said, smiling. “Here.” She held up a familiar white bag.
Wait a minute, JD thought. She wasn’t alone. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. “Aahh!” he screamed and ran back into the woods. He tripped over a big root, fell flat on his face. It was that young man who’d been working at the store, the one who hated him. Taylor was wrong. She wasn’t nice, she’d tricked him.
“Wait, JD, it’s okay,” she yelled. “Please come back, Rick is sorry!”
JD pushed himself up but slipped again, his feet all tripped up in the blanket.
“JD, it’s me, Rick. Please come back. Please!” the guy shouted. “I was wrong to treat you the way I did. I wanna make it up to you. Please come back.”
JD stopped and thought a moment. If he wasn’t mistaken, the guy sounded sincere. Maybe it wasn’t a trick.
“Rick really is sorry, JD,” Andrea said. “If you trust me at all, please come back. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Please, JD . . . Please,” said the man with her.
It was that Rick fellow. He sounded different, nicer. JD got up and turned around. “Okay, then, I’ll come out.” He rewrapped his blanket around him, then made his way back to the wood’s edge. Andrea was standing there holding the McDonald’s bag in one hand. The other was wrapped around the shoulder of the young man, Rick.
“I’m here,” he said.
Rick looked up. He wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeve. There was his father, looking just as bad as he ever did, maybe worse. But all Rick felt in his heart was compassion now. That and sadness. But he set the sadness aside. He had to get control of himself, didn’t want to scare him off again. He walked slowly toward JD.
“Here, Rick.” Andrea handed him the white bag.
Rick held it out as JD got closer. “Egg McMuffins, JD. Just the way you like ’em. And hash browns too.”
“Hash browns?” JD said, a smile now appearing.
“And there’s an extra one in there for Taylor.”
JD took the bag. He stunk something awful.
“For Taylor too?”
Dad . . . Rick thought, looking into JD’s eyes. Don’t you know who I am? He wanted so bad to tell him, to understand what had happened to him. But he forced these thoughts away. Now was not the time.
“Thank you,” JD said, then turned back toward the woods.
“Before you go,” Rick said, “I want to tell you something. If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you with you looking right at me.”
JD turned around, a nervous look on his face. He looked at Rick, then away. Rick waited a few moments, didn’t say anything. JD looked at him again.
“I am so sorry for how I treated you, JD. From the first moment we met till now. You are someone Art cares about a lot, and that should have been enough for me. It’s not your fault that it wasn’t. It’s mine. You can come back to the store.”
“I can?”
“Today, in fact.”
“I’d sure like to be back there,” he said. “Way more than these woods.”
“Well, you come back then. You’re Art’s honored guest. That’s how you’ll be treated from now on by everyone at the Book Nook, including me.”
“Art gonna be okay?”
“Looks that way. He’s healing up pretty good. From what I’ve heard, you’re the one who saved his life.”
“Me?”
“That’s what I heard. So you come back to us, okay?”
JD looked down at the ground. “Okay then.”
“When you get all set up, you come knock on the door at the store. I’ll come out with a fresh cup of coffee.”
“Well, okay then.” JD held out his hand. His dirty, grimy hand.
Rick felt like he was about to lose it completely. He choked back the tears, reached out, and shook it. God, he prayed silently as JD headed back for the woods, please show us how to help him. There’s got to be something we can do.
45
“It’s all finished, Mr. Rick. Wanna see it?”
Rick smiled, looking down at Amy sitting on the sofa, her homemade Christmas catalog spread out on the coffee table. Andrea had to pick her up at lunch; the babysitter had a Christmas party to attend that afternoon, somewhere out of town. “Don’t you think you better cover Annabelle’s eyes first?” he said, pointing to her doll. “She’s looking right at it.”
Amy quickly closed the catalog, then shoved a pillow over Annabelle’s face. Rick laughed. Good thing Annabelle didn’t need to breathe.
“Okay, now come look at it.”
Rick pushed the start button on the coffeemaker and sat next to Amy. “All right, let’s see what you got here.” He picked up the catalog and started slowly turning the pages. Amy scooted closer to him, pointing at each toy on the page, filling him in on the most important details. She had a lot to say, and Rick realized he enjoyed hearing every bit.
He didn’t know if he and Amy’s mom had any chance of a future together, but he realized just then that he desperately hoped they might. He’d love to be involved in this little girl’s life somehow. The fear of what that meant had vanished. But it wasn’t because of anything he had done. It was Amy. Her attitude toward him had been so kind and accepting, so completely the opposite from how he’d treated Art when he’d first come into Rick’s life.
“So what do you think?” she said, looking up at him with her beautiful bright blue eyes.
“I think someday Mr. J.C. Penney should hire you to do catalogs for him.”
“Really?”
“It’s very good, Amy. How old are you again?”
“Six.”
“It’s way too good for a six-year-old. You’ve got to be at least eleven or twelve.”
“No, silly, I’m just six.”
“Okay, if you say so. But you know what?”
“What?”
“I didn’t see any check marks or stars next to any of the toys. How do you know which ones Annabelle wants most for Christmas?”
“Oh, I know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. I know Annabelle really good.”
“Still . . . you don’t wanna forget something that important. I think you should take a few minutes and mark the ones you know she really wants.”
“What should I write?”
“Know how to make stars?” Amy nodded. “Well, put one star by the one she wants the most, two stars for the second best one, three stars for the third . . . like that.”
“Okay, I’ll do it right now.”
“I’m going to go up front, see if your mom needs any help.”
“I’m right here,” Andrea said.
Rick looked up. She was standing in the middle of the main aisle, smiling. Then she got a concerned look on her face. “I just realized, today is your last day here, isn’t it?”
“It is?” Amy said loudly.
“Yes, it is,” Rick said.
“It can’t be,” Amy said. “Why is it your last day?”
“I have to go back to my old job on Monday.”
“Where’s that?”
“In Charlotte, where I live.”
“You don’t live here?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Where’s Charlotte? Is it far?”
“In another state.”
“Aren’t you going to be here for Christmas?” she asked.
Rick looked up at Andrea. Her face looked genuinely sad. She was sad he was leaving. “I’m gonna come back,” he said, “and spend Christmas here.”
“You are?” Amy and Andrea said in unison.
“That’s the plan. But if I don’t go back and finish my work in Charlotte, I’ll lose my job.”
“Can’t you just make this your new job?” said Amy.
“He can’t, Amy,” Andrea said. “Rick has a really important job. And Art’s getting better, so pretty soon, he’ll be back here at the store.”
Rick stood up.
“But you promise you’re coming back for Christmas, right?” Amy asked.
Promise? Rick thought. Could he promise something like that?
“Say you promise,” Amy repeated.
Rick looked at Andrea, then back at Amy’s pleading little face. “Okay, I promise.”
He looked at Andrea again, but she had turned around and headed back toward the front of the store.
46
Rick stepped out of the elevator at the hospital. As he waited for the nurse to buzz him through to the ICU, he was aware of another change he felt inside. He wasn’t hating being in a hospital as much. He felt a little tense, but that was all. He walked around the corner. The nurse at the counter smiled as he came to Art’s doorway. “Is it okay?” he whispered.
“You can go in.”
He saw his mom in the far corner, reading a book. A curtain pulled out from the wall blocked most of Art’s bed. Rick stepped up quietly.
As soon as she noticed him, his mom got a big smile. “Rick,” she said and stood up.
He stepped closer, and they hugged. He glanced at Art still asleep.
“What have you got there?” his mom asked.
“The latest issue of Field & Stream. I didn’t see any magazines here the last time I came.”
“That was sweet of you.” She was talking at a normal volume.
“Aren’t you concerned he’ll wake up?” he said quietly.
“No, he’s been sleeping all day. He still needs rest, but the doctor said I don’t have to tiptoe around anymore. We got some good news this afternoon.”
“What is it?”
“They’re moving him out of the ICU tomorrow morning. He goes to a regular bed on the second floor.”
“Really?” Rick said. “That’s some serious progress.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Have they noticed any other problems, because of the surgery?”
“He still can’t taste his food, the poor dear. But the doctor did some checking, and sometimes things like that come back later on.” She walked over to Art’s bedside. “Hey, Art,” she said, patting him on the arm. “Look who’s here, hon. It’s Rick.”
His eyes fluttered then opened. He focused on her face and smiled. “Did I fall asleep again?”
“A few hours ago. Are you up for a little visit?”
He awoke more fully then turned and looked at Rick.
“Hi, Art,” Rick said. “How ya feeling?”
“Not too bad, Rick.” He sat up a little. “Food’s lousy here, all tastes the same, but other than that, I’m doing okay for an almost-dead guy.”
“Stop, Art,” his mom said. “Look what Rick brought you.” She handed him the magazine.
A big smile. “This the new issue?”
“Think so,” said Rick.
“Say,” Art said, turning to Leanne. “Am I even allowed to read yet?”
“You know, I’m not sure. You better just look at the pictures till we ask Dr. Halper.”
He started flipping the pages.
“Not now, Art. We’ve got company.”
“Well, I can’t stay but a few minutes,” Rick said. “Really came to say good-bye.”
“Do you have to go already?” his mom said.
“Got to be back 8:00 Monday morning. Gotta pack and hit the road first thing tomorrow.”
“Well, don’t you worry about us, Rick,” Art said. “You heard they’re moving me to a regular room tomorrow?”
“I did.”
“I’ve already talked with Andrea,” his mom said. “I’m going to come in to see Art every morning. We’ll open the store at 10:00 instead of 9:00, give me a little more time here. She’s going to ask her boss at the diner if he’ll let her out every day at 2:00 p.m. sharp. We’ll manage till Art is out of bed. Don’t you worry.”
“I really wish I could have stayed longer, but my boss made the decision for me. It was either come back Monday or don’t come back at all. But, I am planning on coming for Christmas. That’s only nine or ten days away. If it’s all right, that is.”
“All right?” Art said. “That would be wonderful.”
“Rick . . . ” His mom had tears in her eyes. “That’ll make this the best Christmas we’ve had in years. You coming home and—”
“Me not being dead,” Art said.
“And you not being dead,” his mom said.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“But this time, when you come back, would you do your mother a big favor? It can be my Christmas present.”
“What is it?”
“Would you stay with us, instead of at a hotel?”
“It will be a sacrifice, but I think I can manage.” They didn’t see he was joking. “I mean, I’d have to give up the Magic Fingers.”
They laughed. “I forgot all about that thing,” his mother said. “You and your father used to love doing that. I didn’t know they still had those.”
“Only at the finest motels,” Rick said. “Well, I’ve gotta go.” He walked over and gave his mom a big hug. She started crying softly. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be back soon.”
“It’s not that. I’m just so grateful . . . for everything you’ve done. I would have never made it through all this without you.”
“I’m glad I could help.” He walked over to Art.
“Rick . . . there aren’t words . . . ” His eyes filled with tears too.
“Now, let’s don’t do this,” he said, choking back his own. He reached out his hand. Art took it and pulled him closer.
“Thank you,” Art said. “For everything.”
Rick walked out into the hall, thinking, Can’t believe he’s thanking me.
About an hour later, Art was asleep again. Leanne was reading her book. Art had finished his obligatory dinner a little while ago. Still couldn’t taste it. Leanne had assured him, considering what they had served tonight, it was a blessing. She was definitely looking forward to cooking her own food again at home.
She looked up, surprised to see Andrea standing in the doorway, a concerned expression on her face. Andrea motioned for Leanne to come to her, obviously not wanting to talk in front of Art. “Is everything okay, dear?” Leanne asked.
“I can’t stay. I’ve got Amy in the waiting room.”
“You seem . . . a little upset.”
“I’m not really. Concerned, maybe . . . confused.”
“What’s the matter?”
Andrea looked around, as if they were talking too loud. “Rick is leaving tomorrow.”
“I know.” Leanne had forgotten; Andrea had begun to have feelings for him. “Does that worry you?” She spoke softly.
Andrea nodded.
“Are you afraid that going back to Charlotte will be too much for him? That he’ll get sucked back into . . . his old world?”
Andrea nodded her head. “It’s like we don’t even have to talk,” she said. “Can you just read my mind? Is that it?” She was smiling again.
“I’ve been struggling a bit about the same thing.”
“It’s just so soon,” Andrea said. “The change in him the last two days has
been so wonderful, but what’ll happen when he starts getting around all his old friends, all that money and power, the greed, all the . . .”
“Women?”
“He is a handsome man,” Andrea said. “Put it together with everything else . . .”
“There is a lot to worry about,” Leanne said.
“I wouldn’t be as concerned if he had been here for a month or two after his change of heart, even a week or two. But two days? It doesn’t seem long enough. Like pouring cement and then building the house before it hardens.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Hold on a minute, let me go check on Amy.”
Leanne watched her walk back toward the waiting room. Andrea leaned into the waiting room doorway. When she pulled back out, she was smiling. “She’s fine,” Andrea said as she returned.
“Andrea, I understand your concerns. I’ve thought the same things, but really, it’s out of our hands.”
“I know, I know.” She looked away. “I just wish it wasn’t so soon.”
“All we can really do is pray,” said Leanne.
“I know,” Andrea said.
But she said it as though she didn’t believe it could possibly be enough.
Andrea walked back to the waiting room to get Amy. She stood in the doorway, looking down at Amy’s face as she looked up, responding to Andrea calling her name. Amy was so happy, so trusting, eyes so full of hope. Had Andrea ever looked at life that way?
“What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Nothing, sweetheart, it’s just time to go.”
“Is Mr. Art okay?”
“He’s doing much better.”
“God’s answering all of our prayers, isn’t he?” Amy said.
“He is,” Andrea said. As they walked to the elevator, it dawned on her. God really had been answering their prayers . . . about Art. But she hadn’t prayed about Rick, hardly at all. All she’d done was worry. And be afraid about her future.
Once again, here she was, Much Afraid, tormented and harassed by the Fearings all around her. Just like the character in Hannah Hurnard’s book. She’d even been afraid to pray about Rick, afraid of the feelings she was having for him, afraid of where her heart might go if she let it run free. She pushed the elevator button.