I leaned my head onto her shoulder, unable to stop the tears that spilled out of my eyes. I hadn’t quite processed everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. She put an arm around my shoulder and let me cry awhile. The doctor came out of Matthew’s room, and I straightened, wiping the tears from my face.
“Grace? Why don’t you come on in?” he said.
Mrs. Sawyer and I stood, and she gave me another hug. “You call if you need us,” she said.
“I will. Thank you.”
I turned to follow Dr. Keagan into Matthew’s room. I hadn’t known Dr. Keagan well when I worked at the hospital, but he had an excellent reputation. He was old enough to have gained valuable experience, but not so old he was stuck in his ways.
Matthew looked up at me with a pained expression. “Did I do that to you?” he asked, his voice rough and full of emotion.
I took his hand and tried to smile. “Don’t worry about it right now. I’m just fine. Let’s hear what Dr. Keagan has to say, and then we can talk.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
Dr. Keagan cleared his throat. “Major Doyle, I understand you had a couple of episodes of…” He glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. “…headaches, high blood pressure, blurred vision, tremors, etc. at the base hospital in San Antonio, along with another serious episode in the Philippines before you were sent home.”
“Yes, sir,” Matthew answered.
“And while in the Philippines, you suffered from malaria, malnutrition, foot ulcers, and had your appendix removed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In Manila, you were diagnosed with combat exhaustion with anxiety state. You were treated mainly with rest along with medication for the malaria. All of this sound familiar?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Keagan frowned and looked at both of us over the rim of his glasses. “I believe the shock of all you’ve been through has greatly affected you, both physically and mentally. I don’t think I need to tell you that this is serious, especially when you seem to be losing control of your actions and threatening the well-being of others around you.”
Matthew looked up at the ceiling, the muscles in his jaw working as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were damp. “I didn’t mean to,” he said.
“I understand,” Dr. Keagan said. “I’m going to refer you back to Brooke General in San Antonio—”
“Doc, no,” Matthew said. “Don’t send me back there. They’ll just put me in the ward with all the crazy guys. I’m not crazy.”
“Matthew,” I said, leaning toward him and squeezing his hand. “No one thinks you’re crazy. But you should be treated by doctors who specialize in the care you need.”
He glanced up at the bandage on my head, touching it gently. “I’m so sorry I lost control. I was just so…so overwhelmed at that moment. I won’t let it happen again. I swear. I swear, Ruby.”
I kissed his cheek and wiped the corner of his eye. “I know. We’ll get through this.” Straightening, I spoke to Dr. Keagan. “So, is there any way you can treat him here?”
He pressed his lips into a line, considering the request. “I suppose I could contact his doctor at Brooke and coordinate something. But I still believe it would be best for him to receive care directly from the doctors treating combat exhaustion.”
Matthew let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Doc. I promise I’ll do everything you say, and I won’t be any trouble.”
Dr. Keagan didn’t look convinced. “The most common treatment for anxiety state right now is narcosis therapy. I’ll speak to your other doctor, and we’ll decide how we want to proceed. I’ll be back shortly. For now, rest and do your best to stay calm. No stress.” He gave me a pointed look as he left.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning over Matthew and touching his cheek. “See? It’s going to be all right.”
“Ruby, I can’t believe…I’m so sorry I hurt you. Are you sure you’re all right? Is Hope all right? Where is she?”
“Shhh.” I kissed his lips to quiet his panic. “You have to stay calm or Dr. Keagan will kick me out of here.”
He touched my bandage again. “How bad is it?”
“Not bad at all. Only needed five stitches. That’s not even worth the trouble.”
He didn’t smile. “Where’s Hope? Is she all right? Did I scare her again?”
“She’s fine too. The Sawyers took her home. She’s concerned about you, but missed everything that happened. She just knows you weren’t feeling well and that I got a boo-boo.”
“The Sawyers must think I’m nuts.”
“No, they think you’ve been through a traumatic experience and are doing your best to deal with it.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t blame them if they did think I’m nuts.”
“You’re not nuts. You’ve just got to find a better way to face the demons haunting you.”
“Demons,” he muttered. “That may be the most accurate description of them.”
“Of what?”
“The nightmares. The flashes of memories in the middle of the day, when I’m not even asleep. I see things, and sometimes I can’t tell if they’re real or just in my mind. I can’t make them stop.” He dropped his gaze, and his voice cracked. “It’s like Henry’s ghost is with me all the time.”
The empty space between my heart and my stomach that ached every time I thought of Henry hurt now for the pain I saw in Matthew’s eyes.
“I let you down,” he said. “So many times, over and over and over. From the first time I saw you, through every challenge you’ve faced, I’ve failed you.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is. Do I need to list them?”
“No, please—”
“Chester attacking you—”
“You found me—”
“Walking away from our friendship after the tornado—”
“You came back—”
“Betraying your trust—”
“You stood by me—”
“When I told Mr. Oliver your secret, and let’s not forget nearly killing you in Cold Spring. And worst of all…Henry. It was my fau—”
I put my hand over his mouth, and he finally stopped. “This isn’t helping.” I took my hand away and gazed into his eyes. “You are a strong, kind, honorable man who’s had my heart for so long, I can’t remember when it wasn’t yours. You haven’t let me down. You’ve been my friend, my confidant, my love, and my partner. You’ve put up with my temper and my stubbornness, and you never seem to mind when I correct your grammar. And now, I get to share a beautiful little girl with you. We both have faults. But despite that, God has blessed us beyond what we could ever deserve. You just have to be willing to see it. The nightmares, they’re just a symptom of all the guilt and shame you’ve put on yourself. They’re all lies from the enemy. And they thrive in the darkness that’s got ahold of you. The only way to beat the darkness is to come into the light.”
“You always did explain things to me in a way that needed simplifying for my mere human brain. Sweetheart, the rest of us don’t speak Angel.”
He managed a smile then, and I smiled back. “Boy, they must have given you a lot of drugs if you think I’m an angel.”
He turned his head toward the window. The light streaming in had turned a deep orange beneath the retreating clouds. “What are we going to do?” he asked.
“We’re going to stop running.”
***
“You’ll have to keep your head still till I finish,” I said, holding a large cup of bath water over Hope’s head.
She tilted her chin up, and I poured the water over her soapy hair. “Momma, where did you sleep last night?”
“At the hospital with Daddy.”
“Oh.” She turned her head to me. “When’s Daddy coming home?”
“Keep your head straight for me.” I poured another cup. “He’ll be home in a few days.”
“Why does he hafta s
tay?”
“The doctor is going to put Daddy to sleep for a while so he can get better. It’s called narcosis therapy.”
“Nah-co-kiss?”
“It’s a big word. Sounds a little scary, huh?”
She pushed her boat around the water, getting up on her knees now that I was finished with her hair. “Uh-huh.”
“Daddy hasn’t been sleeping well, so they are going to help him sleep. That’s all.”
I wished it were as simple as my explanation. If only he just needed more sleep. I’d listened as Dr. Keagan explained what they were doing, giving Matthew doses of sodium amytal to put him into a deep sleep that would last around eight hours. Then he’d be fed, visit the bathroom, and get another dose right away. He’d be in a near constant state of sleep for at least two days. And when he woke up, he might be better. He might not. But what did that mean for us?
After this latest breakdown, which I attributed to Mr. Doyle appearing on the doorstep, it was clearer to me than ever that our life of deception and hiding had to stop. The only way to truly help Matthew heal was to give him the chance to live a peaceful, honest, hard-working life. And that meant going back to Alabama.
I pulled the plug from the tub, despite Hope’s protests. Then I took the towel off the rack and wrapped her up in a big hug. “Come on, you little bunny rabbit. Time for bed.” I carried her into her room, helped her into her pajamas, brushed her hair, and waited for her to climb under the covers. Together, we pulled them up to her chin, leaving her arms out just the way she liked it.
“Momma, I pway for Daddy tonight.”
“You want to say your own prayer?” She nodded. I sat down beside her and took her hands in mine. “All right. Go ahead.”
She closed her eyes. “God? Tank you for your bessings. Tank you for my momma and for bwinging Daddy home. Pease help Daddy feel better. And bess Belteen and Skin Horse and Sugar Pie and Aunt Jiwian and Uncle George and Baby George and Gamma and Gampa and Uncle Mike. And God? Pease help me make Daddy weal. Amen.”
I’d started to reach for her lamp, but I stopped. “Hope, sweetie, what did you ask God to help you with for Daddy?”
“To make Daddy weal. You know. Like Belteen and Skin Horse.”
I had no idea how to make sense of that. “Daddy is real, sweetie.”
“No, not yet. He is still scared and alone, like when Belteen first come to da nursewy.”
“What do you mean? How do you know he’s scared?”
She looked at me just as seriously as any two-and-half-year-old could. “Cuz da bad men are still twying to get him.”
My throat knotted. I held my arms open. “Come here, sweetie.” She climbed over the covers and sat on my lap. I held her close under my chin, wishing she didn’t have to see her father suffer. “Listen, Daddy has dreams about the bad men chasing him, but they aren’t really chasing him anymore. He’s safe. And you’re safe.”
She sat there quietly for a few moments, processing this. Then she scooted away from me, took Velveteen and Skin Horse out from under the covers, and sat cross-legged on the bed. “Momma, look at Belteen. He has scars and wough spots, and he’s dirty. See? I love him a long time. I made him weal.”
“I see. But Daddy isn’t real?”
“Not yet.” She put the toys back beside her pillow and went back to sitting. “He needs us to love him a little more.”
I looked at this amazing sparkle of light that had landed in my life when I’d needed her most. And I wondered what miracles she would witness in her lifetime. Was that what Asa had seen in me?
I took her hands in mine. “I think you might be right about that. Let’s make sure we love Daddy as long as it takes for him to become real.”
“I will.”
“Now, get in bed, and get some sleep.” I held the covers back as she crawled back under them, then I leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Momma.”
I left her room and went immediately to my bed, dropping to my knees. Lord, You are so merciful to me, a sinner who does not deserve it. Thank You for carrying me through my times of trouble, for being a hedge of protection when my life and my faith were in doubt. You are my Redeemer, my Rock, my only breath. Whatever lies ahead, don’t let me forget all that You’ve already done. Keep Your faithfulness ever before me, reminding me daily of Your provision. And Lord, I ask You to work in Matthew’s mind, soul, and body as he sleeps. Heal the pain and darkness clouding his mind. Show him Your love. Show him how to surrender everything to You. Walk with him through this valley. And I thank You for sharing Your precious little one with me, so that I can watch her grow in her faith, and share Your love with others. Bless her heart, keep her from evil, and may Your light shine through her. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.
After finishing my prayer, I sat on my knees a while longer, enjoying the quiet presence that had come over me. Once again, I was reassured that going home to Alabama was the Lord’s plan for me, and for the first time, I was sure that the journey was at hand.
Was my faith strong enough to walk through that fire?
My grace is sufficient for thee…
Could Matthew handle the stress?
When you are weak, I am strong…
Who would take care of Hope?
She is My workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which I have ordained that she should walk in them…
Every doubt that came to the surface was met by Scripture brought to my mind. I thanked God again for His tender mercies, and for once again coming close to me in my time of need. I was certain I would face opposition, that even Matthew may refuse to accept God’s call. But as for me, it was time to climb out of the boat again.
***
I didn’t expect the opposition to come so soon. I went downstairs to get a book to read from the study, and instead I found Mike sitting on the living room sofa with his mother. I stared at him in shock. “What are you doing here?”
He stood and walked over to me, hugging me close. “I heard there was another ruckus. Just wanted to check on you.”
“You got here awfully fast from San Francisco.”
“I flew my new plane.”
I stepped back, my mouth dropping open. “You got a new one? That’s wonderful!”
He stared at the bandage on my forehead. “Are you all right?”
“Of course. You know me. I can take a lot worse than this.”
He brought his gaze down to mine, growing serious. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
“Mike—”
Mrs. Sawyer cleared her throat and stood from the sofa. “I think I’ll head off to my bedroom to read for a bit and fall asleep.” She stopped beside Mike and patted him on the arm. “It’s good to have you home for a day or two.”
“Goodnight, Mother.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Sawyer.”
We stood in awkward silence as she went up the stairs. “Don’t forget the lights, Mike,” she called down.
“Yes, ma’am.” Once she was gone, concern wrinkled his brow. “What exactly happened?”
I sat down on the sofa, curling my legs beneath me. “I don’t want to talk about it. Everyone’s making a big deal out of it—”
“It is a big deal,” he said, taking the spot beside me. “He lost control, and you were the one who got hurt.”
“I know it’s a big deal. Matthew’s state of mind is…troubled. He has a lot going on. We have a lot going on. He needs my support right now.”
Mike leaned forward onto his knees and shook his head. “I’m worried about you, Grace. And Hope too. What if it had been her?”
I couldn’t even think about that. I closed my eyes and shut out the image that flew into my mind. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“You keep talking about this time. I’m talking about the next time. Or the next. When is it enough? When does it cross the line?”
“I don’t know. I can’t give you the answer you want.”
“Maybe you need to consider divorce.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes. You have to think about Hope’s and your safety.”
I couldn’t listen to this anymore. I pushed away from the sofa and headed to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” he called after me.
“This is me controlling my temper. I’m getting some water.”
Grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, I began filling it at the tap. About halfway through, Mike joined me.
“You know I’m right,” he said.
“No, you’re not.” I turned off the water and leaned against the sink. “You’re letting your feelings get in the way here.”
“My feelings?”
“Yes, your feelings for me. You want me to leave Matthew and be with you.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, while I took a sip of my water. “So? What if I do? That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“You don’t think trying to steal another man’s wife is wrong?”
He threw his hands up and groaned. “I’m not trying to steal you! Good grief. I’m trying to protect you. That’s exactly what Henry would’ve wanted me to do.”
“What does Henry have to do with any of this? And he would not have wanted you to tell me to leave my husband and break up his niece’s family.” I took another sip of water as my words sunk in. “You realize that’s what you’re suggesting. For Hope to lose her father. Because that’s exactly what would happen. Matthew would…”
“He’d what? Go nuts? I think he’s already there.”
“No, he isn’t. You just don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand? Are you kidding? I’ve been through my own problems, Grace. I’ve seen what happens to guys like Matthew who’ve been destroyed by the war. He isn’t going to get better. He’s going to keep drinking and keep losing control until he seriously hurts himself or someone else.”
“He’s getting treatment,” I insisted. “Again, you don’t understand everything that he’s dealing with.”
Abiding Hope: A Novel: Healing Ruby Book 4 Page 23