Darkness Before Dawn

by Ace Collins

  “I don’t know.” Jan shrugged. “But that’s the good doctor, one conquest right after another. Heather had to be aware of his reputation. No one is going to tie him down any time soon. Thankfully, Molli is just out for a good time. Don’t you think that’s what Heather wanted?”

  A stunned Meg shook her head. What about the advice she’d given Heather? This was going to hurt her. Why had she said what she said?

  “Anyway,” Jan’s voice brought Meg back into the moment, “I’m sure she didn’t take him seriously.” Jan waited a second, as if searching for her train of thought, before asking, “What kind of sentence are they going to give the kid?”

  “I don’t really know,” Meg answered. “But Cheryl Bednarz believes the way the judge sounded when he delivered the verdict, he would go for the maximum or at least close to it.” Pausing a moment, Meg concluded, “He’d better!”

  Changing the subject, Jan inquired, “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Oh, I just stopped by to see a patient—Meg then glanced at the clock—“and I’d better do it before it gets any later.”

  Visiting hours ended at nine o’clock, so they had been officially over for forty-five minutes when Meg began walking down the long hallway. Still, she was a nurse, even if she was off duty, and the rules at this small hospital were generally lax for regular folks, much less hospital personnel. She knew that no one would mind her stopping by to see a sick friend. In fact, it might earn her some brownie points with Administrator Willis.

  She knew Nancy would want to know the outcome of the case and Meg figured she should be the one to tell her. As a matter of fact, she’d expected Nancy had been calling her house all evening just to find out what had happened. And for some reason, now that Meg was so lonely and filled with so many different emotions, Nancy just seemed to be the one person she could turn to who could make some sense out of her life—not just what had just happened but also what the future held. So as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t really here to give Nancy the news, she was here to have Nancy help her understand what this news really meant to Meg and her future. After taking a moment to touch her hair, she knocked softly on the door to room 211.

  When no one responded, Meg knocked a little more loudly. When Nancy still didn’t call out, she turned to walk away. Disappointed, Meg figured she could catch Nancy before the morning session. She had only walked a few steps from the door when something stopped her. Deep down she knew that no matter how tired Nancy was, no matter how sick she was feeling, even if she were asleep, she’d want to be awakened if someone needed her. So, retracing her steps, Meg slowly pushed the door open.

  The room was dark. Gently closing the door behind her, Meg felt her way across the floor until she touched the edge of the bed.

  “Nancy,” she whispered.

  There was no response.

  “Nancy.” This time the whisper was a bit louder. “Hey, sleeping beauty, it’s Meg. C’mon, wake up. I’ve got some great news. At least, I think it is.”

  Still there was no response. Reaching out to where she knew Nancy’s shoulder should be, Meg found only an empty bed. In shock, she reached up and yanked the string on the reading lamp. The room was empty. No patient, no books, no iPod, and no flowers.

  They must have moved her. She has gotten worse and they probably put her in ICU. Walking out the door and back to the nurse’s station, Meg noted Marsha Kolinek now seated behind the counter.

  “Hi, Marsha.” Meg’s voice was friendlier than it had been in months.

  Looking up, the nurse responded. “Hey, I understand congratulations are in order. I hope that he gets what he really deserves.”

  Nodding, Meg asked, “Nancy, the patient in 211, she’s not there any more. Where are you all hiding her?”

  A genuinely puzzled look came across Marsha’s face. “Gosh, you’re right. She’s not in 211. I hadn’t thought about it. I don’t know what happened to her. She wasn’t there when I came on. Let me check.”

  Meg glanced down the hall and saw Jan. “Never mind. I’m sure that Jan knows.”

  “Jan, I need some information.”

  “You’re asking the right person,” Jan shot back. “Who runs this place?”

  “You do,” Meg laughed.

  “And you’d better not forget it!” the nurse said. “Now, who needs an executive decision?”

  Smiling, Meg went on, “Well, we just thought you might know where a patient has been moved to.”

  “It’s so good to see you smile,” Jan answered sincerely. “Now, what patient?”

  “The terminal cancer patient in room 211,” Meg explained.

  Jan glanced down at her feet for a moment and without looking back up asked, “Why do you want her?”

  “She’s kind of become a friend,” Meg replied. “I wanted to tell her what happened at court today.”

  Jan stared deeply into Meg’s brown eyes. Then, in a quiet voice, she announced, “Nancy’s not here.”

  “I know that,” Meg replied. “But where is she?”

  Jan shook her head, “She’s gone. She died Monday night.”

  “No,” Meg moaned. “Not yet. Not this soon.”

  Before anyone could say anything, Meg rushed back into room 211. It had been cleaned and was ready for another patient. It was as if Nancy had never been there. Her eyes searched for something of the woman she’d come to know and maybe even love. There was nothing to say she was ever here—not even in the wastebasket.

  Tears once again flooded her eyes as she sat down in the chair beside the bed. Just hours after she had experienced what she had thought was such a wonderful victory, she had to face another tragic loss. Standing up, she clenched her jaw, shook her fist, and whispered, “Why?”

  Opening the door, she turned the light off, and swallowing hard, straightened herself and strolled back down to the station. As she walked around the corner, she choked out, “Well, I broke the cardinal rule. I got too wrapped up in a case.”

  Marsha just nodded. Getting up from her seat, Jan went to the head nurse’s desk, opened a side door, and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. Looking up, she took a deep breath before she spoke. “On Monday night, late, Nancy called the desk and asked if I would come down and pick something up. A few minutes later, when I got there, she handed me this. She said it contained something for someone very special.” Jan paused until Meg’s eyes met her own. “That special person was you. She explained it was a road map. That’s all. I don’t know what that means.”

  Setting the package on the nurse’s station counter, Jan continued, “I took it and put it in the desk over here. A few minutes later when I went down to check on her, she was dead. It was kind of weird. Her iPod was playing some kind of gospel song and the girl who was singing sounded so happy and here Nancy was dead.”

  Meg walked the four feet to where Jan stood, gently reached out, and took the package from the counter. Not bothering to look at it, she stuck it in her purse.

  Meg choked out, “Was the song entitled, ‘He Set My Life To Music’?”

  “Yeah,” Jan replied, “I think so.”

  “She played that a lot,” Meg softly explained. “I guess that’s better than going out with the ‘dark music’?”

  “What’s that?” Marsha asked.

  “Nothing,” Meg quietly replied. “It’s just a tune I have known far too well.”

  “I wonder what she gave you,” Marsha asked. When no one replied, she glanced up at Meg and inquired, “Do you know?”

  Meg shook her head, turned, and sadly strolled down the hall and out the door. The breeze had gotten a little colder and a little stronger in the few minutes that had passed since she had gone inside. Clouds had begun to gather and it looked like the storm that had been brewing since morning now might hit within a few hours. But all of this went unnoticed, overpowered by a sense of loss too deep to fathom. Meg was alone, really alone. There was no one left on earth who really knew her heart.


  As she drove, numbness joined fatigue, and by the time she got home, they had double teamed her to the point she could barely climb the steps to her apartment. When she got inside, she simply fell into bed, fully dressed. She didn’t even bother to take off her shoes or turn out the lights. Within seconds, she was deep in sleep. Not the kind of sleep that brought rest and relief, just the kind that promised escape.

  A few hours later, she awoke enough to set her alarm and turn out the lights. But her eyes closed again before she remembered Steve or Nancy or even the courtroom victory.

  48

  MEG AWOKE WELL BEFORE THE ALARM SOUNDED. THE FIRST THING SHE noticed was her bedroom appeared as if it had been hit by a tornado. Her purse was pitched on one corner of the bed and her clothes were scattered around the room. There was simply no system, no organization. Walking to the bathroom, she drew a sink full of cold water, splashed it over her face, and then, slipping on an old terry cloth robe, stumbled to the kitchen. Once there, she tossed a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster, and while she waited for them to brown, poured herself a glass of Coke.

  An hour later, at nine o’clock, she’d already eaten, showered, fixed her hair and makeup, and dressed. It was too early to leave for the courthouse, so she picked up the morning paper, found a soft spot on the couch, and in an effort to stay warm against the morning chill, pulled her legs against her body. She glanced over the front page. A bold headline on the bottom right side jumped out at her.

  THOMAS CONVICTED OF VEHICULAR HOMICIDE

  That headline was followed by four words in even smaller letters—Judge to Announce Sentence Today.

  Meg quickly read the report of the trial, and then, taking her scissors from an end table, clipped the entire story out of the paper and slipped it into her purse. Checking her watch, she grabbed a sweater, rushed out the door, and down the steps to her car. After the short drive, she found a parking place and walked about a block to the courthouse.

  “Some kind of storm last night, wasn’t it?” Cheryl noted as the two women met in the hallway outside the courtroom.

  “Rain?” Meg exclaimed. “I didn’t notice. I guess I slept right through it.”

  “Well, you must have slept real well then because it almost washed the town away. Reminded me of some of the thunder boomers we have back home.” All of Cheryl’s Texas accent came out when she said the word home.

  “Do you ever go back there?” Meg inquired.

  “Back where?”

  “Texas . . . you know, home?”

  “Oh,” Cheryl glanced past Meg out a window at the courthouse lawn. “No. Dad’s dead and I don’t have anyone left there. No real reason to go back. Though I do still miss the country and the way people talk. Still, I guess that this is home now. That is until Judge Thomas puts the pressure on my boss. Webb is sure to cave, he wants to be governor someday, so my tenure is about up at the courthouse. And Thomas will make sure I don’t work anywhere in this state. So I may just have to go back to Texas to find a job. Or at least go somewhere where the judge has no connections.”

  “I’m sorry,” Meg said. “Kind of my fault.”

  “I played the game by my rules,” Cheryl assured her, “the right ones, and besides, you gave me something I’ve been wanting and needing for a long time. I’ll gladly take my lumps and like it. Not only did I win, but I proved to myself I’m good at this.”

  Glancing at her watch, Meg asked the now-beaming attorney, “Do you still feel like the judge might give Thomas the maximum?”

  “I hope so. But in cases like this, you never know. Judges are simply unpredictable. We’ll find out in a few minutes.” Smiling, Cheryl made a big waving motion with her right hand and added, “You ready to go in?”

  As Meg took her seat directly behind Cheryl, the assistant district attorney leaned back and asked, “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Doesn’t what?” Meg replied.

  “What if the judge doesn’t give Thomas a stiff sentence? What are you going to do then?”

  Without thinking, Meg answered, “I’ll put him through another kind of hell.”

  Cheryl had to know how Meg felt. After all, she had admitted to making a vow of revenge once and it was a vow that didn’t rest until yesterday. Now, so long after the fact, what the courts hadn’t done to her father’s killer had likely taken the edge off the attorney’s emotions through the verdict she won in a courtroom yesterday. She could probably move on. Meg was craving that same kind of feeling. That is really what she’d wanted to talk about with Nancy. Nancy was supposed to give her a roadmap back to acceptance, maybe even happiness, and most of all peace. But that talk with Nancy would never happen and Meg trusted no one else. So, could she put the world right and bring the old Meg back?

  Meg crossed one leg over the other and glanced to the other side of the room. Jim Thomas appeared exceptionally ragged. The cockiness that had been so much a part of his personality was now gone. It had been replaced with a look of genuine fear. He appeared scared to death that the next door that closed behind him might have locks and bars on it. Meg considered the kid’s position. This might well be the first time in his life he was at the mercy of someone that his father could not buy. She smiled. Thomas was where she wanted him to be—an animal, caught in a trap, just waiting to see if he would be turned loose or slaughtered. The not knowing must have eaten at him for the whole night.

  Satisfied Thomas was a defeated soul, she scanned the rest of courtroom. The boy’s family looked as if they were going to a funeral, and old Jasper Tidwell was no longer glancing her way today. He was too busy studying his notes.

  Checking her watch, she smiled. Each minute now brought her closer to finding out if her nightmares were finally over or if they were just beginning. If he got a stiff sentence, then her fight was done. It would be time to get back to living. If he didn’t, she didn’t really know what she would do. It was a quandary that had been eating at her fiber for weeks. Was this the way it was for every person left behind after having a loved one killed by an alcohol-fueled driver? Did the pain and sense of loss ever go away? Would those emotions revisit her every time she saw someone throw a beer can out of a car or see an alcoholic beverage ad on TV? Could her heart be completely healed when she heard the judge toss out a harsh sentence?

  “All rise!”

  The bailiff’s voice brought the proceedings to a beginning and dragged Meg back to the present. She listened intently as Judge Truett presented his opening remarks and then asked Cheryl to deliver her arguments concerning sentencing.

  The young woman stood up slowly, took a few moments to sum up the case by not only speaking of the loss of Steve’s life but the loss for the community, church, and his family. Then she pushed into words that were incredibly personal.

  “Your Honor, the cornerstone of this building promises justice. Today this justice must be the kind that sends a statement to every driver in this area. That statement must be that drunks can no longer travel the streets of Springfield maiming and killing without paying a considerable price for their actions.”

  After glancing over at Thomas and Tidwell, she continued, “In the past, this type of crime was treated much more casually. That lax attitude led to countless deaths, including, not just Steve Richards but my own father. Consider that the maximum judgment you can give today in this case, when compared to the death sentence given by the defendant to the victim, is still very lax. Steven Richards cannot be brought back from his grave. His child will never know his loving touch. He died with more than two-thirds of his life in front of him. So, it is my argument that anything less than the maximum would have the same effect as voiding the verdict of the court.

  “Your Honor, in your hand is a key toward helping begin a change in the way all of society looks at drinking and driving. In your hand is a key for changing the perceptions that parents and kids have about partying with booze. In your hand is a chance for a safer life for all of us.

  “Yes, I am asking f
or you to make Jim Thomas an example. I am asking that we deprive him of some of the best years of his life. Yes, I know that this may sound harsh and it will not bring Steve Richards back to his family, but it might stop a thousand more families from losing their Steve Richards.

  “Your Honor, it is in your hands. Will you serve justice or will you ignore the first step in a solution to a problem that kills more than 12,000 people a year?

  “Thank you.”

  Meg’s eyes, which had filled with tears, fell down to where her hands were folded across her lap. Cheryl’s words had cut through her like a knife. Steve wasn’t coming back. And the baby she was now carrying would never know him. Surely, the judge would understand that and act accordingly.

  As Meg composed herself, Jasper Tidwell pushed his chair back and began his well-rehearsed speech. In dramatic fashion, his words dripping like a gentle rain off a roof, he made his case.

  “This boy—and that is what he is, Your Honor, just a boy of such a tender age—has learned his lesson. He accepts the mistake he made and fully realizes the cost to Megan Richards. Yet this mistake, when contrasted to the boy’s fine reputation as a student and leader, is an anomaly. James is normally the kid who is the leader and who does the right thing. In fact, ever since the accident he has not missed a single Sunday at church and has even spent his Saturday mornings working as a volunteer at the local Boy’s Club.”

  Though numb, Meg was not so insulated that she didn’t take great offense at what Tidwell was doing. She’d met Thomas face-to-face, she’d seen what kind of person he was. His attitude was not anything like the picture the attorney was painting. And he wasn’t a boy. He was almost eighteen years old! Men his age were fighting and being killed in wars!

  “Your Honor,” Tidwell continued the theme that was so eating at Meg, “my client is but a lad, a boy, a youth who has his entire life in front of him. You have already judged him to be guilty and the shame of this will follow him for all the days of his life. But if you sentence him to prison, it will interrupt and probably halt his education. His future will be altered irrevocably and whatever service he could be to humanity will be lost. He does not deserve to be placed in an environment filled with cold-blooded killers and professional crooks. No child does.