2nd Sight: Capturing Insight

by Ben A. Sharpton

“No,” Scott answered, then said, “I don’t know how you ever pull yourself away from this view. It’s stunning.”

  “That it is,” Tom said. “It’s almost hypnotic and it never grows old.”

  “Grace and I certainly do appreciate the chance to use your cabin, Tom.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves.” He looked about the porch, as if to size up the situation. “Say, I was wondering if I might impose on you for just a little while.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’m heading into town to get some supplies and stuff and wondered if you’d like to come along.”

  “Sure.”

  Scott told Grace he’d be back soon and climbed into Tom’s truck. Bouncing down the gravel road, they headed into Waynesville. They passed one sharp turn that skirted a large pine tree on the outside shoulder and a steep drop-off on the inside. Tom seemed to take that particular turn extra slowly. Only after they had passed, did Scott remember that as the place Jenny slipped off the snow-covered road.

  Tom’s first stop was to get lumber at the building supply and then to head to the grocery store for most of his other things. Scott carried a couple of sacks of groceries and other items for Tom. On their way out, they met a tall barrel-chested man coming in. Scott recognized him instantly from his vision. “Hello, Tom,” he said extending his hand warmly. “How are you doing these days?”

  “Fine,” Tom said while shaking his hand. He turned to introduce Scott.

  “Dr. Greenwald,” Scott blurted, shaking the doctor’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Tom stopped in his tracks and stared.

  As they made their way to the truck, Tom was more quiet than usual. Halfway home, he pulled off the road and asked, “Do you know Dr. Greenwald?”

  Scott wasn’t sure how to respond. It was a bit like admitting you’ve been peeping into someone’s window at night. On the other hand, it was a legitimate question. He took a deep breath. “Tom, I don’t know how you’re going to take this, but sometimes I can ‘read’ other people. I see stories that happened in their lives. Earlier today, I saw an event from yours.”

  Tom looked puzzled, his forehead wrinkled with valleys.

  “I wasn’t being nosey. I wasn’t searching for something. After I gave you the paint supplies, I was admiring the view from the driveway when it came to me.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “I saw you in the hospital when Dr. Greenwald told you your wife, Jenny, was in a coma.”

  “How did you know it was Jenny?”

  “I heard you say it in the vision.”

  “Oh my Lord,” Tom said, turning away to stare out the windshield.

  “You sat on her bed and held her hand and told her you were sorry you weren’t with her when she was in the wreck.”

  Tom’s eyes spread wide. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  “But there’s more, Tom,” Scott continued. “This has never happened to me before, but right after I saw your vision, I saw another. It was Jenny’s. She’d slipped off the road just up ahead, at that tight ‘S’ curve. It was snowing. Hard.”

  “That is not possible,” Tom muttered, almost a whisper.

  “I saw her as she passed,” Scott said, feeling compelled to describe it. “Someone, he looked like a drifter or a homeless guy, came down the ravine to try to help her. He stayed with her, holding her hand, until she was gone.”

  Tom turned and looked into Scott’s eyes. “So she wasn’t alone?”

  Scott shook his head. “She wasn’t.”

  Tears began to spill from Tom’s eyes and dampen his wrinkled cheeks. He stayed still for a long time, squeezing the steering wheel gently. “Thank you,” he said and quietly put the truck into gear and slowly made his way up the mountain. When they reached the top, he turned to Scott and said, “Let’s leave the lumber in the car. I want to be alone for a while.” He didn’t wait for Scott to get out of the truck, but gathered the grocery sacks and climbed the steps to his house. Transferring all of the bags to one hand, he unlocked and opened his door. He didn’t say goodnight.

  ***

  Early the next morning Scott and Grace woke to a gentle knocking on the door of their cabin. Scott scrambled out of bed, pulled on some sweats and rushed to the front door.

  “I apologize for waking you,” Tom said from the other side of the screen. “I was making some French toast and thought you and Grace might like to join me.”

  Scott rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinked a couple of times, and said, “Sure. Give us fifteen minutes and we’ll be right over.”

  He went back to the bedroom and shook Grace awake. They pulled on casual clothes and scrambled down the steps to Tom’s house.

  Smells of frying bacon and cinnamon French toast lured them up the front steps.

  “Come in,” Tom called from inside.

  The living room was cluttered with cute collectables here and there, mementos from past adventures. A carved wooden bowl containing potpourri took up much of the coffee table. Pillows adorned with knitted designs dotted a long, green sofa. Shelves contained knick-knacks picked up at garage sales and flea markets through the years. A large painting of Tom and Jenny hung from one wall. In one corner, a small TV sat almost hidden from view on an old rolling cart.

  “Come on back to the kitchen,” Tom yelled.

  As they made their way to the back side of the house, the bacon and cinnamon smells became mixed with those of coffee, fried eggs and something almost imperceptible, a hint of vanilla.

  “I decided to go hog wild,” Tom said. “I haven’t made breakfast for anyone in so long, I guess I thought I’d make up for lost time.”

  They all sat around an old table, filled almost to overflowing with virtually every type of southern breakfast food. The table looked out a side window upon various animal feeders. A bird feeder catered to various species of birds and beyond that, a bird bath offered water. A salt lick was in a clearing a little further out and corn cobs suspended from tree limbs on string tempted squirrels to come by for a bite to eat.

  “What a spread,” Scott said. “I’m not sure where to begin. You know you’re gonna put Waffle House out of business, don’t you?”

  “Help yourselves to whatever you like,” Tom said, waving his hand over the table. He sliced a sliver of butter from the dish and lathered a biscuit. Another chunk and made a pool of butter in the middle of his grits.

  Grace accepted a slice of French toast and some scrambled eggs with a cup of coffee. Scott loaded his plate with some of everything.

  Tom ravaged his breakfast like a man rescued from a desert island. “I’ve gotta tell you,” he began. “After talking with you yesterday Scott, I have felt so good, so relieved, so…” he seemed to search for a word, stabbing the air with his fork. “Can you imagine a minister who can’t find the right word to say? So redeemed.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Scott offered.

  “Did he tell you about his visions?” he asked Grace.

  She nodded. “Yes, they are a big part of our conversation these days.”

  “It was incredible. He saw a part of my life, three years ago and recited it back to me as if it had just happened and he had been right there.” Then to Scott, “Have you always had them?”

  Scott began to relate his recent journey, how he used to have hallucinations, but Dr. Blackwell had helped him control them. He spoke of the tests and trials and then how the ability took them into darkness through cheating and blackmail. He also talked about how he couldn’t stop the deaths of Dr. Blackwell or his friends, Jeff, Amy, or Chris.

  And then he stopped talking.

  They all sipped coffee in silence. Scott breathed in deeply, overwhelmed with thoughts of how his life had changed over the last few months. He felt as if he was in a confessional booth.

  “Son,” Tom said. “You have a gift, a valuable present from God to truly help others.”

  And he was feeling s
tronger. The cool mountain air, the inspirational scenery, and the deep reflection were working to heal him. “Sometimes it seems like a curse,” Scott said.

  “The really good ones often do,” Tom added.

  Eventually, the trio left Tom’s kitchen for the porch where they chatted through the morning, sharing story after story, while looking out over the spectacular view of the Great Smokey Mountains. The more Scott talked, the more he felt that his ability just might be a blessing after all.

  But he wasn’t sure.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Are you up for another errand?” Tom asked Scott the next afternoon.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Just a trip into town,” he said, eyes gleaming as if electrically charged.

  Scott knew from his evasiveness that he had something up his sleeve, but Tom had let them stay in his cabin and Scott and Grace weren’t doing much more than sitting in rocking chairs on the porch. Besides, he did enjoy these jaunts with the wild preacher man. “Sure, but do you think the grocery store can handle us two days in a row?”

  “Oh, we aren’t going there,” Tom said.

  They boarded the truck and headed back down the mountain. It seemed that Tom took the curve where Jennie had slid off the mountain just a little faster than the day before. Perhaps he was a little more comfortable than he had been previously.

  They drove past Waynesville and on into Maggie Valley where they stopped at St. Joseph’s hospital, a utilitarian, two story building surrounded by blacktop parking lots and small, trim trees and bushes.

  Tom turned to Scott and said, “From time to time, I drop in here for a visit. Join me.” More of a command than an invitation.

  They walked through sliding glass doors and Tom checked in at the front desk. The volunteers instantly recognized him as he did them. “I see you’re back from your trip to Florida, Carolyn. How are the grandchildren? Betty, have you lost weight? You look great.” Somehow, the towering preacher made even the simplest inquiries seem sincere. He took time to introduce Scott to each person, as if introducing his best friend. The two men continued their journey into the small hospital, visiting patients and medical staff and taking time to listen to each one.

  In one warmly decorated room, walls adorned with countless coloring pictures of children playing, they met Katie. She lay in bed watching TV, her bald head resting against a large Sponge Bob Square Pants pillow. She was tiny and the cancer had taken so much from her frail body that she looked half her age.

  When Tom walked in the door, Scott saw a minute sparkle in her eyes. Her lips curled into a half smile.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” Tom bellowed in his most enthusiastic voice. “How is my favorite little lady?”

  Katie didn’t say anything but allowed him to reach down into the bed and scoop her into his arms so he could give her a massive hug. She hugged him back as strongly as her thin arms could and laid her head against his broad shoulder.

  A nurse rushed in behind Scott. “Now take it easy, Rev. Jackson. You’re gonna break something if you ain’t careful.”

  But Tom hugged her like she was his own. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet,” he said and Katie turned her gaze to Scott.

  “This is my friend, Mr. Scott,” Tom said in southern colloquial lingo.

  Katie slowly climbed down off Tom’s arms and onto the antiseptically clean tile floor. She stood tentatively beside the bed and looked at the corner of the room, as if not sure what to do or say.

  “Hi, Katie,” Scott offered. He crouched down on his haunches so he was close to her height, but she didn’t look at him. “It’s so nice to meet you. How old are you?”

  Katie did not respond.

  Her hesitation was as obvious as her naked head so he, too, wrapped a long arm around her waist.

  “Mr. Scott, have you ever seen a more beautiful little girl?”

  “No, I can’t say that I ever have,” Scott said. Still she kept her gaze on the corner of the room. She looked so frail, Scott feared she might break if he stared at her too much, so he turned his attention elsewhere.

  “Hey, that’s Donald Duck,” he said, looking at the television screen.

  Katie slowly turned her head to the TV.

  “I used to watch Donald Duck when I was your age,” Scott said. “He was one of my favorites.” Then, in an effort to make her smile, he added, “You are forty-two, aren’t you?”

  Katie shook her head but still remained silent.

  “We’d better let you get some rest,” Tom said and lifted her back into bed. “Are you still my girlfriend?” he asked and she half-smiled again. Tom stroked her cheek with a thick hand.

  When they stepped back into the hallway, the nurse followed them out the door. “She loves to have you come visit,” she told Tom. “And I know bringing a friend was a real treat for her today,” she said to Scott.

  “How’s she doing?” Tom asked.

  The nurse shook her head. “Her doctors have tried everything,” she said. “Yesterday they told her mama she wasn’t going to live much longer and her mama told Katie. She hasn’t spoken since.” Her voice quivered as she studied the tile floor.

  The news, in all its naked cruelty shook Scott as if it had been conveyed directly to him.

  The two men continued their Florence Nightingale duties, visiting an old man who kept asking Tom for a cigarette, an obese woman who nearly flowed off the sides of the bed, and a ten year old boy who had broken both legs when he fell out of a tree house. They all knew Tom.

  Back in the truck, Tom turned to Scott. “I’m not sure how, but I believe your presence might be a blessing to some of those people in the hospital. That’s why I asked you here.”

  “Tom,” Scott said. “I don’t know how to help those people.”

  “Son, I’ve been in the ministry for fifty years and most of the time I don’t know how to help the people I serve. But I try anyway and yet somehow, someone walks away a better person. You’ll figure it out,” Tom sighed and started the engine.

  Scott rode in silence all the way back to the cabin.

  ***

  “All right,” Scott said. “I’ll give it a shot.”

  Tom had been telling Grace all about their hospital visit. He mentioned the boy with two broken legs and the obese lady and several other patients by name. He seemed to be taking a long time to get around to Katie, and Scott sensed that was his way of persuading him to offer to do a reading. “I know where you’re going, Tom,” Scott said eventually. “If I don’t do something, you’ll probably still be here talking to us when the sun comes up.”

  Tom blushed, his agenda exposed. “I believe you can somehow help those people.”

  Scott turned and stepped out to the back porch. Rocking in one of the chairs, he began to relax. Through the screen door, he heard Grace offer Tom a glass of iced tea. In a few moments they quietly walked out onto the porch to watch Scott.

  “You don’t have to tip-toe,” Scott said. “I know you’re here.”

  With that, Scott began to describe each vision. He talked about significant events from staff members and patients. He told them one patient had once played minor league baseball and another had fought in Vietnam and that a kid who fell out of the treehouse and broke both legs would have a few more accidents later in his life.

  Then he said, “Oh, this is what I think you’re looking for.”

  Grace and Tom moved closer as if concerned they might miss something.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve found Katie’s stories,” Scott said. He was staring out over the valley, trance-like. “Now this is interesting. Katie has several episodes or memories, like many other people. However, most of hers, in fact, all but one, seem to be faded. It’s like they have started to disappear, like Blackwell's did, but more slowly.”

  “Oh, my,” Scott heard Grace say.

  “Here’s one. It shows a lady, could be Katie as an adult, holding an infant. It looks like a newborn baby. I’ll try another
one.” He sighed deeply. “Oh, here’s an interesting view. Apparently Katie has an interest in music. She’s in an orchestra, playing, uh, violin, or viola. Dang, it sounds pretty good.”

  “Well, her daddy used to play a fiddle with a bluegrass band over in Cullowhee,” Tom whispered to Grace.

  “Let me take a look at the one that seems most intact,” Scott said. “I’m assuming this means the event has already happened. The others may be in danger of never occurring.”

  Tom leaned back against the rail and Grace sat in a vacant rocking chair.

  “I hear hospital noises,” Scott said. “You know, loudspeaker voices, beeping sounds, echoes. Okay, the vision is opening up. Katie’s in bed and talking with someone. The TV is on in the background. Oh, she’s talking with you, Tom. It’s your ugly mug. She’s giggling. She seems so incredibly happy. I can’t tell what you’ve said to her, but something makes her laugh.”

  Scott turned his head to face Tom. Great tears rolled down the man’s weathered cheeks. All at once, he sniffed deeply. “My Lord. I never…”

  “You did, Tom,” Scott said.

  “You got me crying like a bride at a wedding,” Tom said. He went back into the bathroom. In a moment, they heard a loud honk as he blew his nose.

  Scott slid back into his meditative position and breathed in deeply, again. In a moment, he seemed to find something else. “Here’s something. Katie seems to be with an older man. It’s Dr. Greenwald. They’re in a clinic of some type. Hmm. I’ll look for some indication…oh, a logo says, ‘Charles Wesley Cancer Center of Oregon.’ There’s a thin man, looks like he’s from India. He’s greeting Dr. Greenwald and Katie. He’s wearing a name tag; Dr. Kapur. Greenwald looks very pleased and Katie is hugging Dr. Kapur.”

  Tom had returned from the bathroom and now stood in the doorway.

  “Now, Katie’s back in Waynesville. It looks like she’s getting off a school bus and her mother is running to greet her. She has something in her hand—a paper, no, a letter. Her mother is saying the cancer is in total remission and Dr. Kapur’s treatments seem to have worked. Mom’s crying. Katie’s crying. Good God, even the bus driver is crying.”