Darkness Before Dawn

by Ace Collins

  As an act of cleansing, she had given some of Steve’s things to Goodwill and almost all the rest she had shipped back to his folks. She’d removed all the photos and other items that reminded her of him from the apartment and put them a locked trunk in the closet. She had also gotten good at purging thoughts of her husband. She’d replaced Steve’s memories with plans as to how she could best exact retribution for his death. It was when she was making those plans she felt most alive.

  Meg was looking over notes in preparation for the beginning of the trial when her iPhone rang. It was Heather.

  “Didn’t get to visit with you today.”

  “Things were kind of crazy.”

  “You’re right on that,” Heather replied. “I’m exhausted. I barely had time to get off my feet today. Guess you went by to see Nancy after work.”

  “Yeah,” Meg admitted. “I feel sorry for her. Her husband can’t get there ’til after seven each night and there is no one else. It has to be tough waiting to die like that.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve bonded with her,” Heather noted. “I mean, you put a lot of distance between you and the other Christians in your life.”

  “She’s different,” Meg explained. “She doesn’t judge. Nancy sees the whole story and therefore looks beyond my actions of the moment. She seems to have the faith to believe that given time, I’ll work my way back to having a solid outlook on life. You know, she even gives me books to read. I’ve got a whole shelf full of them.”

  “What kind of books?” Heather asked.

  “The kind I’d throw away if Mom gave them to me. They’re devotional books. I’m guessing they must mean a lot to her. So I keep them.”

  “Have you read them?”

  “Heather, you know better than that. But I won’t get rid of them. I kind of like having a piece of her heart in my house.”

  “She’s gotten to you. Hasn’t she, Meg?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. But you know there are some patients that each of us bond with. Like you and that burn victim on the south wing. You spend a lot of time with her.”

  “I guess,” Heather admitted, “but it seems like Nancy has become more your friend than a patient.”

  “She hasn’t replaced you,” Meg assured her.

  Yet in a way she had. When Meg was angry, Nancy would sit through every story, never once giving an impatient look or harsh word. When she wasn’t feeling well or she was concerned that maybe Jim Thomas might get off, she informed Nancy. She even told Nancy the story of her high school friend, Julie Evans. She had almost laughed when Nancy pointed out that Julie’s killer was probably having a tough time living with the pain of what he had done. She not only disagreed, she reminded the dying woman of the remorse that Jim Thomas hadn’t been feeling. On that occasion, Nancy only smiled in a way that said she didn’t want to argue. But the two of them did argue—mostly over God. But it was a lot different than arguing with her mother. Nancy never pushed God down Meg’s throat.

  “Heather.”

  “I was wondering if you were still there.”

  “You don’t have to worry about Nancy replacing you. I just feel for her. I can’t imagine facing death like she is.”

  “So you put up with her for that reason?” Heather asked.

  “I think that is it,” Meg admitted. But it was a lot more than that. There was something about the way Nancy saw life that puzzled Meg, and she’d always been a sucker for puzzles. Even as a kid, she wouldn’t stop until she figured them out.

  “Heather,” Meg asked, “my land line is ringing. Can I call you back?”

  “Sure.”

  Ending the call on her iPhone, Meg walked over and checked her caller ID. She knew the number well. Picking up the receiver she said, “Hey Nancy, Heather and I were just talking about you.”

  “I’m sorry, I’ll let you get back to her.”

  “No,” Meg assured her, “I can call her back. Do you need something?”

  Nancy’s voice sounded stronger than it had earlier in the day. “I just wanted to tell you that God loves you. And He loves everyone and we should, too.”

  “You’ve told me that,” Meg said. “But can I ask you a very personal question? One that is tough and unforgiving.”

  “Of course.”

  “Nancy, if God loves you, then why is He killing you?”

  “God’s not killing me,” Nancy explained, her tone seemingly tinged with anger. “Cancer’s killing me. God gave us control over this earth because we demanded it. Check it out in the story of Adam and Eve. When we got power over the earth, we also screwed it up. People just aren’t good at giving in to anything, and that includes God. But He is a loving father and He doesn’t zap people in car wrecks or with cancer. It is the evil we invited into this earth that does that. You need to understand that.”

  “Okay,” Meg quietly replied. “While I don’t understand it, I’ll think about it.”

  “Good,” Nancy answered, all signs of anger now gone, “I think I need to sleep now. Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “I’ll do my best. Good night.”

  “Night.”

  As Meg set the phone back in the cradle she considered this strange new friendship. She and Nancy were so different. Maybe opposites did attract. Nancy’s life was all about love and each day the little love that still existed in Meg was being buried deeper and deeper by her need for revenge. Maybe Nancy was right, perhaps this lust for vengeance was a cancer. Maybe it was eating at her, just like the disease that was working its way through Nancy. In Nancy’s case, it was destroying her body; in Meg’s case it might be destroying her heart. And yet, while Nancy fought her cancer with everything in her, Meg treated hers like a welcome guest.

  38

  IT WAS EARLY SUNDAY MORNING AND MEG WAS PREPARING FOR ANOTHER day at the hospital. Since the day Willis had called her on the carpet, she had grown to hate her job; but now, with the trial just forty-eight hours away, she had a good reason to be happy. Even work—a routine day of sick people and bedpans—was not going to mess up her feeling of anticipation.

  When she arrived at Springfield Community, Heather greeted her with a sleepy, “Hello.”

  As the two of them checked in, Meg couldn’t help but notice just how tired her coworker looked. “Did you and Paul play doctor last night?” she finally asked.

  Choosing not to answer the question directly, Heather asked one of her own, “Paul and I have been going out quite a bit over the last few weeks and he’s starting to put a lot of pressure on me to give up the prize. Do you think I should?”

  “The prize?” Meg asked raising her eyebrows.

  “You know what I mean,” Heather shot back.

  “Why ask me?”

  “Because I want to know if hanging onto it is worth it,” Heather responded. “I thought that you could tell me. After all, you were a virgin when you got married.”

  “Listen, Heather. What you do with your body is your business.”

  “Meg, I don’t think you understand.” Heather was more than a little concerned about what she should do. “I’m not tired from partying. My date ended early. Paul began to put pressure on me to go all the way, and when I wouldn’t, he got mad and left. I spent the night wondering if I had messed up.”

  Meg jabbed, “You’re such a prude. I know I used to be one too, but that was back in high school. We’re not kids anymore.”

  “Two years ago you told me not to sleep with John,” Heather said. “And I didn’t. You said it would be wrong. Well, it took me two long years to find someone who cares about me and someone that I care about, and if I continue to say no, then I might lose another guy. Is it worth that?”

  When she asked Meg for advice, Heather probably didn’t stop to think about how much her friend had changed over the past few months. If she had, she might have turned to someone else; but she didn’t, and with sweating palms, she waited for Meg’s words.

  For Meg, raised in the church and brought up with a strict mo
ral code, there had never been any question as to her virginity. She had never had any reason to doubt her choice. After all, she’d won the one love of her life without giving anything up. Still, as she looked into her friend’s distressed eyes she knew that being twenty-one and being twenty-six like Heather were two different things. If she’d had to wait that long and if she had been lonely, would she have made the same decision as she had so many years ago?

  Heather hadn’t had the greatest of upbringings and she hadn’t even gone to church until Meg and Steve had taken her. Even now, she didn’t go very often, but she still made her decisions based on what women like Meg did. So, Heather likely wanted her to give her a reason to stay a virgin.

  “Heather,” Meg casually said. “If I were in your shoes, I’d probably go for it. After all, there are no guarantees as to how long any of us have and sometimes you have to take your happiness wherever you can find it. Do what will make both of you happy!”

  Knowing that a patient in 217 was due for a new IV, Meg got the needed bottle and began her day. As she did, a now relieved Heather picked up the phone.

  “Paul, I’m sorry about last night.” her voice drifted off as Meg walked down the hall, but Meg still knew what Heather must have had in mind and how this conversation was going to end.

  39

  THE NEXT TWO DAYS, DAYS THAT MEG HAD ONCE BELIEVED WOULD LAST forever, flew by. There had been a huge patient load and her duties had kept her busy from sign-in until sign-out. She’d been so covered up she hadn’t even had an opportunity to ask Heather about what she did. Yet flowers delivered to Heather at the nurses’ station on Monday afternoon served to assure Meg her friend had followed her suggestion. And there had been that unique glow on the young nurse’s face for the whole day that seemed to confirm her suspicions. Still, not a word was said about what had happened. Probably none needed to be said. It was now just water under the bridge. Heather had finally grown up.

  After Meg checked out on Monday, she stopped by Nancy’s room. Knocking but receiving no answer, she eased the door open enough to look in. She heard one of the same songs she had heard at least a dozen times before, and Nancy, looking a little paler, was napping. Rather than disturb her, she shut the door and left. Later than night, when the phone rang, she was not at all surprised to hear Nancy’s voice.

  “I wanted to call before the trial.”

  “Thanks,” Meg answered. Holding the phone with her shoulder, she continued ironing a new maternity dress that she was going to wear the next day.

  “I hope you find what it is you’re looking for Meg.” Nancy’s tone was strangely serious.

  “How are you feeling, Nancy?”

  “A little tired, that’s all,” Nancy answered. Then, after pausing for a moment, she continued. “You know, the pain hasn’t been too bad recently. But the treatments make me exhausted. I guess taking them may be a waste of time and effort. After all, the result’s going to be the same. All I’m doing is trying to give myself a few more days.”

  Meg had almost forgotten that Nancy was dying. She’d simply put that fact in the back of her mind. Nancy’s personality—her life—had almost caused Meg to believe the young woman might really beat the odds. But in reality, there weren’t any odds given on this race. All bets were off. Nancy was going to lose. She was living on borrowed days as she had already beaten the doctor’s timetable by over two months.

  “Nancy,” Meg’s voice was soft. “You love life a great deal.”

  The statement was a good one, one that must have caused Nancy to stop and think a minute before answering. What she said was more than just the simple yes Meg had expected.

  “Oh, Meg. I don’t know that I love life that much, but what I love is what life brings me. The longer I live the more wonderful people I get to meet and the more people I get to love. Beating the odds gave me a chance to get to know you. It may sound kind of funny, but you’ve made me feel very fortunate. You have made me think about things that I’d never thought about before. Your doubts have even brought me closer to God.”

  Putting the iron down and sitting on her bed, Meg quipped, “I’ve brought you closer to God?”

  “Yes,” Nancy returned. “You see, I’ve never had anyone I loved taken from me. I was raised in a children’s home and then foster care. So in a way, maybe I was feeling a little sorry for myself until I realized that those who are left behind have it the worst. My husband will know the real pain—the kind of pain a pill can’t cure. I realized that from watching you.”

  Nancy took a deep breath. “And that boy, the one who is going on trial tomorrow, he’s going to know pain, too. Maybe you won’t think it’s enough, but if your attorney does her job, he will still know pain. I wish I could give you the peace that I feel to go along with the drive that’s pushing you on to get the justice you are sure you need. I think if you had that peace, the kind that only the knowledge of knowing God gives you, you could do something far more special to commemorate the way Steve died than just put his killer away.”

  “Nancy, I’m not sure you really want to go there.”

  “Meg, I’m sorry, there I am again getting into areas I don’t need to get into. Forgive me, won’t you? Sometimes I sound just like a know-it-all old woman. I guess in a way I am old.”

  Strangely this time Meg felt no anger over what Nancy had insinuated. It didn’t change the way she felt about the trial or Jim Thomas, but it did give her another viewpoint that sounded a little more constructive than “this is all in God’s plan.”

  “Nancy,” Meg answered, “no apologies needed. You at least attempt to give me reasons rather than pat answers. Folks like my mother claim to have all the answers, but they don’t seem to have anything concrete to back them up. You make me think and I appreciate that.”

  Nancy weakly laughed and then added another bit of unsolicited advice, “I really think the only map we need to live by can be found in Matthew 25:35-40. In fact, that’s what has driven me to be your friend.”

  “Those are the verses on touching the least of these?” Meg asked.

  “Yeah. They are.”

  “But you are the one that’s sick,” Meg argued. “I should be touching you.”

  “And you have. But while I’m sick, you are the one who has been broken. I was put here to reach out to you.”

  Nancy let her words linger for a moment and then came back on the line. “There’s one more thing, Meg.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My folks died when I was two,” Nancy explained. “I never really knew them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Meg said.

  “So am I,” the woman replied. “But how can you miss what you don’t remember? Anyway, you need to know what happened to them.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “They were killed by a drunk driver.” Nancy let the words soak in before adding, “I was in the back seat and was uninjured. So, you have given me something else that is very special. I now feel their loss for the very first time, because I see how Steve’s loss has hit you. I suddenly believe my dying would be easier if I’d had parents to hold my hand. I can only hope they will be on the other side to greet me.”

  Meg was dumbfounded. She didn’t know what to say. Alcohol-related accidents took thousands of lives a year, but up until this moment she’d only measured that cost in her own terms. Yes, Cheryl’s story had further fueled her need for revenge, but it had not touched her heart. Nancy had now put what happened into a whole new light. There were millions of people living right now that shared Meg’s pain. They probably also shared her need for justice.

  “Good-bye, Meg.” Nancy said.

  The phone went dead before Meg had a chance to reply.

  40

  EVEN THOUGH SEVERAL PEOPLE, INCLUDING HER MOTHER, HAD OFFERED to accompany her, Meg wanted to make this trip on her own. With road construction along several streets, a water crew dealing with a massive leak on Elm Street, a four-car police chase along Pine, and a half dozen erratic dr
ivers pulling out in front of her all along her route, she now wished she had ridden with someone else as the drive to the courthouse had been nerve-wracking. She felt lucky just to get there in one piece. On the top of those hair-raising and heart-stopping experiences, the gloomy skies offered another ominous sign. It just didn’t look like a good day. As Meg parked the Mustang and stepped out into the damp air, she felt as through there was a huge weight on her shoulders. Even after taking a deep breath, that weight was still there. It continued to ride her back as she strolled quickly and fearfully across the courthouse grounds and to the front stairs.

  Standing on those limestone steps she looked back toward her car. Suddenly the deal she’s been offered looked good. She’d probably have upwards of a half million dollars if she’d taken it. On top of that, she wouldn’t have to be facing a trial whose outcome she couldn’t predict. As she considered the price she was paying her eyes literally found the writing on the wall. She’d been in this building hundreds of times in her life but had never noticed the cornerstone until this moment. There it was plain as day and it was speaking directly to her. Under the date of construction, “1897,” there were four words, “Justice will be served.” She stopped and studied that pledge for a few moments. Would it ring true this week or would this be a time when the system failed to bring justice? Right now, she felt anything but confident.

  As the pledge burned into her head, she glanced up at and studied the imposing four-story structure. Built of white limestone it was impressive but also foreboding. Why not? People paid taxes here, they tried criminals here and they filed complaints here. For all those reasons and a hundred more the courthouse just seemed to be a place you didn’t want to visit. But, nevertheless, this was a place she had to be. She owed it to Steve.