Simple Gifts

by Lori Copeland

  I nodded, too drained to argue. Security lights fully revealed Vic’s condition, and panic seized me. His face was bruised and bloody. A jagged cut marred his forehead. His clothing was stiff with mud. I jerked around as someone opened the passenger door. A hospital employee motioned for me to get out. Together, the orderly and Tate got Vic out of the truck and onto a stretcher, then wheeled him inside. I limped after them. In all of the excitement, I’d forgotten my injuries. I was numb to my soul.

  For the second time that day, I entered the hospital emergency room, only this time behind a gurney instead of lying on one. How was I going to let Joe know that I’d found Vic? I didn’t know his cell phone number. The hospital would have a phone directory, but landlines were most likely out of order. Joe had to be worried sick.

  Tate led me to the waiting room, and then said he had to go. I understood. “Listen Tate, go by and tell Joe where Vic is. He’ll be likely to set out on foot looking for him.”

  “Will do. Do you need anything?”

  “Nothing. I couldn’t be in a better place, for Vic or myself.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be getting back then. They need help in Parnass.”

  “Thanks, I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there.”

  “I think a lot of Vic. Always liked you too, Marlene. About time you came home.”

  He left, but his words remained in the empty waiting room. Home? Parnass Springs was home? Somehow that sounded right. A moment later I realized I should have asked Tate for money for a cup of vending-machine coffee. I was chilled to the bone, teeth chattering. I’d lost my Windbreaker somewhere, and I didn’t have a clue what had happened to my cell phone, purse, or credit cards.

  I sank down in a waiting room chair, resting my throbbing head on the cool metal back, and tried to make out the time through my shattered watch crystal. No luck. I glanced at the wall clock: nine fifteen. The day that wouldn’t end.

  I couldn’t sit still. Finally, giving into temptation, I got up and limped to the pay phone, sticking my fingers in the return change cup and wiggling them. I silently squealed when two quarters dropped down. Yes! Thank you Lord!

  Seizing the prize, I bought a cup of hot coffee.

  Sixteen

  Over an hour later, the double doors opened and a young female doctor wearing blue scrubs approached me. “Are you a member of the Brewster family?”

  Don’t I wish? “No, I’m a family friend. Vic’s father is in Parnass Springs. I brought Vic to the hospital.”

  She nodded. “His leg’s broken in three places, and he’s got a couple of cracked ribs. Otherwise I’d say he survived the accident in good shape.” Her eyes skimmed my arm sling, muddy ankle bandage, face stitches, and abrasions. “Weren’t you in here earlier?”

  I nodded. “You wouldn’t believe my night.”

  Vic’s injuries required a hospital stay. When he came out of the anesthesia, he slowly opened his eyes, adjusting to the light. His cloudy gaze focused on me. “Marly?”

  “Hi. It’s about time you woke up, sleepyhead.”

  He reached for my hand, and I was relieved to feel his strength. He was going to make it. Thank you, God. He’d given me my umpteenth chance. This time I wouldn’t waste it.

  “Where am I?” Vic half-raised off the bed, and I gently pushed him back to the pillow.

  “You’re in the hospital. There’s been a storm—a tornado, actually.”

  “Storm…yes, I remember…I couldn’t get to shelter…how bad are the injuries?”

  “You have a broken leg and some cracked ribs, but everything considered, you’ve fared well.”

  Suddenly his eyes cleared and he became more alert. “Dad? Dad doesn’t know if I’m dead or alive.” Worry was clear in his eyes. “He’ll be beside himself, Marly. Go home and let him know I’m okay.”

  “Tate will tell him. He promised, and I saw a CB in the truck cab. He’ll get the message through.”

  Vic frowned. “Tate? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “Tate winched the truck off you, and we brought you here.”

  “How did you find me? I remember talking to you, didn’t I? I’m a little foggy.”

  I laughed. “It’s a long story. First I broke into Fred Faraday’s garage and borrowed his scooter.”

  He gave me a dubious look. “You didn’t. He’s nuts about that thing, won’t even let his own kid ride it. You didn’t put any scratches on it?”

  Quickly I explained my adventure, but my injuries were the least of my concerns.

  His eyes skimmed my bandaged arm and cuts and bruises. “You’re hurt! How…”

  I covered his mouth with my hand. “You need rest. We’ll talk later when you’re thinking more clearly.”

  “Good idea.” He lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. “Go home…get some rest, honey. I’ll be fine…”

  Honey? Had he just called me honey? Or had he asked for money? Maybe he needed something. My head whirled. “I don’t have a ride home, and besides, I don’t want to leave you.”

  I lay my head on his bruised hand. I don’t want to leave you. It’d been light years since I’d been free to express my feelings, and regardless of my aching ankle and arm, I couldn’t leave.

  His hand closed around mine. “We’ve got all the time in the world. Now go. You need to be in bed yourself.”

  True, but if I ever lay down, I feared I wouldn’t be able to get up again. Ever. My body was coming apart at the seams. Besides, I had something to say that couldn’t wait. “Vic.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I lied to you about Noel.”

  He took the confession more easily than I’d expected—-almost in stride, or more like he’d been waiting a long time to hear it—too long. “Why did you do that, Marly?” Instead of anger, I heard deep regret.

  “Pride.” My hand stroked his bruised arm. “I hated lying to you. Every time we talked and you asked about Noel, I hated what I did, but you were so happy, so settled with Julie. I’d made such a mess of my life, running away from you, from Parnass Springs. I couldn’t bear to admit my mistakes because there were so many. I knew I’d probably never come back here so the lie seemed safe enough. Then Julie died, and suddenly you were single again. I was caught in this horrible web, one of my own making, and I didn’t have enough nerve to break free.”

  His hand tightened around mine. “Why did you run away from me?”

  “Because I knew if I stayed, I would marry you. I loved you too much not to marry you, and then you would want children—”

  “I never insisted on having children. I knew your fears about your mother and father, and as far as I knew, they were legitimate.”

  “But I would have wanted to give you children and knew I didn’t dare.”

  We sat in silence, holding each other’s hands, he gently stroking my muddy hair. “Want to hear something not so funny?”

  “Sure. I could use a sad tale about now.” After all, hadn’t the night been one hilarious episode after another?

  He gently eased me upright until our eyes met. “I can’t father children.”

  “W-what?”

  “I can’t have children. Julie and I tried for a couple of years and then decided something was wrong. Turned out I couldn’t father a child.”

  “Oh, Vic.” I lay my head on the side of the bed. Oh, Vic. That’s all I could think to say. All those years of regret, of hopelessness, and if I’d just trusted God…just followed his plan for my life.

  Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for being such a fool.

  Images of my life flowed through my mind. Pictures of my childhood, my marriage, of the nurse handing a tiny bundle to me, saying I had a daughter. I saw Sara as she held her first child, felt my grandbaby curl those tiny fingers around my thumb…

  “You’re not laughing.”

  “I have so many regrets, Vic. And yet…”

  “And yet?”

  “For all that I wish things had been differen
t, I wouldn’t give up Sara and the grandchildren. And I don’t think you want to give up knowing and loving Julie.” I stroked his hand. “Even when we rebel, when we go our own foolish way, God is there. And he still cares for us, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “He even brings us joy in the midst of our mistakes.”

  Free choice. Isn’t that what I’d promised Chuck, the truck driver? God gave us free choice, but he didn’t leave us alone in our choices. He was there. All along. It’d taken me fortythree long years to learn this; I prayed my daughter got it a lot sooner.

  “Vic Brewster.”

  “Yeah, Marley Queens?” His eyes locked with mine, and I could quite happily have drowned in the love I saw there. Love. Forgiveness. Dedication. Expressions I’d waited a lifetime to see in his eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Vic. I’m going to kiss you because I love you—no, I adore you. I always have and always will.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.” I’d already made up my mind. Game time’s over.

  One dark brow lifted.

  “I’m going to kiss you, and it’s going to be with all the pent-up emotion and love that I’ve carried for you since I was five years old.”

  One side of his mouth lifted. “Really. You’d take advantage of a man in my weakened condition?”

  “Yes, I would. In a nanosecond.”

  I kissed him, and then I kissed him again, then again with as much care as I could manage for a man lying in a hospital bed with a broken leg and cracked ribs.

  And when his arms tightened around me possessively? That’s when I really let him have it.

  On Monday morning, the hospital staff arranged for a car to take me to back to Parnass. April had gone out like a lion, and May sauntered in like a lamb.

  Joe and Ingrid were helping neighbors dig through rubble when I got out of the car. Joe threw his shovel aside and ran to meet me.

  “Vic’s fine.” I struggled out of the back seat. “I couldn’t call. I lost my cell phone and my purse, plus phone lines are down everywhere.”

  “Tate told us. Thank God you’re both okay!”

  Ingrid came to my side, and between Joe and her, they got me into the house. Ingrid had some rain damage inside, and the furniture sported a sheen of dust, but all in all, her house fared better than most. She clucked like a hen over my injuries. Joe immediately sat me down, bowed his head, and holding my hand, he thanked God for my and Vic’s safety. When he’d finished, I echoed his prayer with a grateful and heartfelt amen.

  While Ingrid made me a cup of tea, I told them about the night’s events. “Vic’s truck is demolished. It went off an embankment, almost landed in the creek.”

  “Doesn’t matter, trucks can be replaced.” Joe’s fingers gripped mine. “Thank the good Lord for taking care of him. We couldn’t hold services yesterday—first Sunday in forty years I haven’t been in church.”

  Minutes later, Joe left for the hospital in a neighbor’s car, and Ingrid heated a bowl of soup to accompany our tea. I hadn’t eaten much since Saturday at noon in the cafeteria with the Parishes. Ingrid and I chatted as I ate and downed another pain pill.

  “Most of the town’s buildings are gone.” My aunt sat down, misty-eyed. The storm had taken the fight out of her. “We’ll rebuild. Parnass Springs will be even better. The old bridge wasn’t touched, they say, and that’s a blessing.” Her eyes darkened. “The new shelter is gone, Marlene. I walked over there earlier. It’s rubble.”

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Ingrid.” All the fuss of the past few weeks gone in a matter of minutes. Shouldn’t that be a lesson to me? Only the eternal things mattered.

  She stared off into the distance. “Just brick and wood. I’m glad we didn’t have a chance to build Herman’s statue—it’d be gone, too, and I wouldn’t have wanted to lose him twice.”

  “We could have rebuilt the statue.”

  She glanced at me. “You’d do that?”

  I reached over and took her hand; aware the medication was starting to do its thing—sweet, sweet lessening of pain. “I’d have done it then, and we’ll do it together now. For Dad.”

  A smile chased away the earlier worn lines circling her eyes. “You’ve come a long way, Marlene.”

  Almost too late. Vic and I still had over twenty-five years of baggage to sort through, but I had hopes now that the lies were out of the way. Surely our lives would be better. How could they not be if we were together? The three of us: Vic, me, and God.

  I studied my aunt. “Do you know where I was when the storm hit?’

  “No, you hadn’t said where you were going Saturday morning. I was worried—I didn’t know where to begin to look for you.”

  “I’d gone to Woodlands.”

  Her lower lip tightened. “Isn’t that where—”

  “Lexy Parish is. Yes. I went to visit my mother.”

  Ingrid stared at the tablecloth, and then picked up a spoon. “And?”

  “And…she’s lovely. Have you met her?”

  “Once, when she was carrying you. You favor her, did you know that? Same color of eyes.”

  “I know that what Herman and Lexy did all those years ago wounded you deeply.” I thought of the cigar box in my bedroom, the simple ring. “But it hurt the Parishes too. Remember how Grandpa Parnass used to say, ‘let bygones be bygones.’ Both families have to do that, Ingrid. Let bygones be bygones.”

  Her features hardened. “I don’t want anything to do with those people. They objected to Herman’s statue—they’re heartless.”

  “They were hurt by the scandal. And mystified. Just like you.”

  “Their girl ruined Herman’s life. Folks thought worse of him after…Before, they knew he was simple and didn’t understand like most folks. They accepted him. Later they blamed him, whispered ugly things behind his back.”

  “They were both involved. Willingly. They loved each other, Aunt Ingrid. And that love resulted in me.”

  “And I’m glad it did.”

  I looked at her. “Really?”

  She dismissed me with a wave of her hand. “Of course. Might not say it much, but you know I love you. Why else would I leave you my entire estate when I’m gone.”

  It was a good thing I was already sitting down. I don’t know what I’d thought Aunt Ingrid would do with her money—truth be told, I hadn’t really thought about it.

  “Eugene left Herman a large trust.”

  “Eugene? “I frowned. “Did he make that much as a salesman?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. His family had old money. Eugene didn’t have to work a day in his life, but he loved adventure. Always said he couldn’t sit still.” She lifted her tea for a sip. “That’s why Herman chose to stay with me when Eugene left. He might have been simpleminded, but he knew he’d never have a real home with his father. After Herman died, and I followed his wishes to have the animal shelter built and give a large grant to the public library, I set up a trust where the remainder of your father’s estate, as well as mine, would go to you upon my demise.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Another wave of the hand. “No need to say a thing. We’re family. That says it all.”

  So it did.

  I eased back in my chair, my mind returning to a day thirty years ago—the day Herman found God.

  The sunny June morning stood out in my mind as clearly as if it happened yesterday. Ingrid, Beth, and I had left the church and headed for the car when we heard Herman burst from the side entrance, yelling at the top of his lungs.

  “Good news! Good news!”

  “Marlene, go get him and tell him to hush! “Ingrid snapped.

  I bounded out of the car and headed for him. He spotted me, his face lit with an angelic glow. “Marly! Good neeeeews! Good neeeeews!”

  He raced across the lawn, shouting, stumbling over his two big, too-awkward feet. His usual mismatched pants and shirt looked even more out of place this morning. Heads turned. S
miles turned to scowls.

  “Stop shouting, Herman! Ingrid says for you to get in the car!”

  He reached me, eyes bright, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “Good news, Marly! Jesus loves me!”

  Jesus loved Herman. Even now, the sheer euphoria on his face brought joy to my soul. Good news! Good news! Jesus loves me!

  That day, Herman got what some geniuses failed to get their whole life. So who was truly mentally challenged?

  I smiled at my aunt. “Herman understood what was important. He understood that he was special because God loved him. We’ll rebuild the shelter; we’ll make it even larger so when we look at it, we’ll be reminded of the size of my dad’s heart.”

  Ingrid reached to wipe tears. “I didn’t give birth to him, but I loved him like my own—maybe loved him more than my own. When Eugene left and Herman chose to remain with me—why, he was all I had. I had to protect him, to shelter him from the world.”

  “Oh, Aunt Ingrid. Haven’t you realized it yet? Herman was an angel. You didn’t need to shelter him. He was sent to deliver a message of a deeper meaning to life, to enable us to sort through what counts and what doesn’t. That was Herman’s mission, and he performed it well.”

  It might have taken all these years for his lessons to sink in, but I finally got it. Ingrid was about to. I leaned over and squeezed her hand. “Good news! Good news! Aunt Ingrid, Jesus loves you.”

  Late that afternoon I borrowed a neighbor’s cell phone and called Lana. I knew that she worked at the local bank, which the storm most likely had damaged, but she might be around to help with the cleanup. The bank had one of the few landlines in operation. When I told her about Vic and the accident, she immediately volunteered to drive me to Columbia, where she dropped me off at the emergency entrance.

  “Tell Vic I hope he’s better real soon.”

  Surprised, I turned to look at her. “Aren’t you coming inside?”

  “No.” She offered a look that only two women in love with the same man could understand. “We both know Vic Brewster wouldn’t know I was in the room if you were there.”

  “Oh, Lana.” She knew. She knew that an irrevocable bond held Vic and me—and she’d just given her blessing.