Coming Home: A Story of Undying Hope

by Karen Kingsbury

  Around the room the others were still reacting, still breaking down and crying. Ashley remained against the wall, hitting it softly with her open hand. Landon and Cole embraced her from either side, but still Ashley cried out. “Why, God? Don’t take them, please … God, we need You!”

  Katy had moved back to the chair beside Jessie and Maddie, who was crying alone while Brooke tended to their dad. Brooke looked over her shoulder at her sister-in-law. “Thank you.” Again she was amazed at how controlled she sounded. The news was exploding through her heart like a shrapnel from a hand grenade. But someone had to keep it together. The nightmare had only just begun. They had to handle this the way the Baxter family always handled hard times. They had no choice.

  Even still she wished Peter would show up. He must’ve been tending to one of his patients on another floor. Something serious, otherwise he would be here. She had to believe that.

  “Is he okay?” Luke was still standing beside Brooke, watching their dad, his brow knit together in fear.

  “He’ll be fine.” Brooke whispered low near their dad’s face. “Breathe deep, Dad. It’s all right.” She looked back at Luke. “It’s the shock. It caused him to faint.”

  No relief came over Luke, no change in his tension. “Are you sure? It could be his heart.”

  “It’s not.” Brooke wasn’t sure of course, but she was convinced of one thing. God would only give them what they could handle. Even today.

  Dr. Clancy returned and he handed Brooke a cool cloth, which she put on the back of her father’s neck. At the same time, Phil snapped open the salts and waved them beneath her dad’s nose. He moved his head from side to side a few times and then gradually he brought his head up again. “What … what’s happening?”

  His words were still slurred, but his face had more color. Dayne went to Katy, and Luke took his place on the sofa beside their dad. He had his arm around him now. On the far side of the room, Dayne wrapped Katy in his arms. Kari and Ryan and Jessie huddled together, and Cole sat with Maddie now, the two of them holding hands and whispering what sounded like a fervent prayer.

  Gradually their dad was coming to, and as he did he seemed to remember. His startled eyes glanced around the room. “What are you … why …?” His question trailed off and a sadness filled his face. He brought his hand to his eyes. “Erin … not Erin. Please, God.” He leaned into Luke and started to weep. It was that sight more than anything since Dr. Clancy gave them the news that made Brooke’s eyes well up. Their father — John Baxter — one of the strongest men in all of Bloomington was weeping for what had happened.

  Even while he gave way to his sorrow, Phil Clancy motioned to Brooke. She gave the wet cloth to Luke. “Keep it on his neck.” She spoke softly. “Just in case.”

  Luke nodded. “Thank you.” The words held a deeper meaning, and Brooke understood. None of them knew what to do. God was using Brooke’s strength — however imperfect — to sustain all of them for the moment. She followed Dr. Clancy into the hall.

  “I’m sorry again.” Phil hung his head and rubbed his temples. “It’s one of the worst accidents this town has ever seen.”

  Brooke had an idea where this was going. She looked around Dr. Clancy. “Have you seen Peter?”

  “There was an emergency in pediatric oncology. He might be awhile.” Phil sounded emotionally exhausted. “He told me to tell you he’s sorry.” The man looked straight at Brooke. “We need the identity of the girls. Your dad … I don’t want to ask him. Not in his condition.”

  This was what Brooke had feared and not wanted to voice. Even to herself. That with the rest of the family so upset in the other room, the task of identifying the girls would fall to her. Dear God, I don’t know if I can do it. I’m not strong.

  My strength is perfect in your weakness, My daughter. You are not alone … I will go with you.

  The words of the Lord spoke straight to Brooke’s heart. For all her years of praying, she’d only heard an almost audible response from God on a couple occasions. The fact that He’d speak to her now allowed her to take a steadying breath. She nodded in Dr. Clancy’s direction. “Now?”

  “Yes. I hate this. But the coroner has been called. Brooke, I need the identity of the child who …” He didn’t finish his sentence.

  She nodded, the words of the Lord running through her mind again. My strength is perfect in your weakness. She felt her heart beat steady within her. “Take me to her.”

  Brooke tried to imagine how she would feel if these were her kids she was about to identify, and in the time it took her to blink her eyes she was walking this same hallway, coming to see Hayley after her drowning accident. She blinked again and tried to stay focused. The hospital staff seemed unwilling to look at them as they passed by. It was hospital protocol — give the family of victims the courtesy of seeing their badly hurt or dead relatives without the hospital staff staring.

  The walk seemed to take forever, but finally Phil turned right into a room at the end of the hallway and Brooke followed. On the table, looking like she was only sleeping, was Heidi Jo. The nurses had cleaned her up because as Brooke came closer, she could see the way Heidi Jo’s head had been damaged. Clearly her death had been instant. Brooke didn’t realize she was crying until she saw her tears land on the cool white sheets surrounding the eight-year-old. Pretty brown-skinned Heidi Jo. Brooke soothed the child’s long brown hair and leaned in close, holding her one last time.

  More sad than anything else was this simple truth: Erin and Sam hadn’t gotten to say good-bye. They were both fighting for their own lives, too hurt to even be aware that Heidi Jo was gone. Brooke wiped the back of her hand across one cheek and then the other. She remembered Dr. Clancy and she turned to him. “Heidi Jo.” She looked at the precious girl again. “This is Heidi Jo. She’s eight.”

  It was enough information for the coroner to find her birth certificate in Texas. Something they would have to do before a death report could be created. You promised me strength, Lord. Brooke leaned against the gurney and closed her eyes for a second. How was anyone ever ready for this sort of news? For the job of identifying the body of a beloved niece?

  Deep within her she felt it, actually felt it. A strength that didn’t come from herself, one that only could’ve been the Lord with her. No other way she was standing here in this moment. She took a final look at the little girl. The child was in heaven now. All that remained was the proof she had existed. The shell of who she had once been. She stepped back from Heidi Jo’s body.

  “I need to see the others.”

  “Can you do this?” Phil hadn’t ever worked with her, but they knew each other.

  Brooke had no idea whether the doctor believed in God. But she had a feeling he might after this terrible nightmare played itself out. She smiled at him through fresh tears. “I’ll be okay. God’s carrying me.”

  Even before he led her to the next room Brooke had figured out the obvious. Since Heidi Jo was already gone, the young girl with the broken arm, the one whose injuries didn’t seem life-threatening, had to be Amy Elizabeth. Which meant that the girls on life support were Clarissa and Chloe. Erin’s two precious, outgoing teenagers. Knowing which girls were suffering and which had passed on somehow made the tragedy infinitely worse.

  She stopped before he led her into the next room. I need You again, Lord … I can’t do this. I’m so weak, Father. She pressed her shoulder into the wall.

  “We can wait.” Dr. Clancy put his hand on her other shoulder. “Really, Brooke.”

  “No.” She shook her head, and again she felt the still small voice of the Lord speaking to her, rescuing her. I am with you always … your refuge and strength. The words were from Psalms 46, a Scripture Brooke had kept on her desk since Hayley’s accident. She breathed in and again she felt the strength of God. The surreal otherworldly ability to take another breath and another one after that. “I’m all right. Go first please.”

  Dr. Clancy led her into an emergency room and Brooke r
ubbed sanitizing foam over her hands and fingers. As soon as she faced the hospital bed, immediately Brooke knew that this was Clarissa, Erin and Sam’s talkative oldest daughter. Brooke could see something else, too. Just with a glance at the machines keeping the girl alive. She turned to Phil. “Brain damage?”

  “Severe. Spinal injuries as well.” He shook his head, as if this truth was something he could only now reveal. “It doesn’t look good for either of the older girls.”

  Brooke nodded. Her sister would be devastated, which made her think of something she didn’t have emotional room to consider. Were Erin and Sam still in surgery? And if so, how were they doing? And what about Peter? Whatever the emergency there had to be someone who could take over.

  The tragedies kept piling up. Brooke breathed in. Gracious God, carry me. Please … She closed her eyes for a long moment and thought about Hayley, about how she overcame the odds after her accident. When she opened them she went to the side of Clarissa’s bed. “We believe in miracles, baby.” She gently touched Clarissa’s blonde hair. Her body was as lifeless as Heidi Jo’s. Again the tears overcame her. With her voice breaking, she spoke again. “God is carrying you. Just hang on, okay?” She couldn’t get as close to Clarissa as she had with Heidi Jo. Machines were attached to both her arms, her neck and her face. Brooke tried to think what Erin would do for the girl, and all she could think was to touch her hair again and tell her the only other thing that mattered. “We all love you, sweetheart.”

  She stepped away and looked again at Phil. “This is Clarissa.”

  Phil had a file and as he’d done with Heidi Jo he wrote down the name as Brooke spelled it. Finally the doctor took her to see Chloe. Of all Erin’s girls, Chloe was probably Brooke’s favorite. She wasn’t as talkative as Clarissa, but she was a sunbeam and she laughed easily. Brooke always pictured her growing up to be a teacher or a counselor. She had that way about her.

  Again she prayed as she approached the bed. This time she didn’t wait to tell Phil. She looked back at him. “This is Chloe.” She spelled the girl’s name and then came up alongside her. The injuries to Chloe seemed very similar to those of her sister’s. Which made sense. They were probably sitting together. “Same?”

  “Yes.” Again Phil looked like he was taking this as poorly as any of Brooke’s siblings. “Severe brain damage. She’s hanging on by a thread. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.” He hesitated. “Do you know the name of the fourth girl, the one with the broken arm?”

  By way of deduction, Brooke nodded. “Amy Elizabeth.” She looked back at him. “Can I see her?”

  “In a little while. She’s got a team working on her.”

  Brooke nodded. The enormity of the situation was too much to grasp. She moved to Chloe’s bedside. “Miracles happen, Chloe, baby.” She touched the girl’s blonde hair, amazed even in this broken state how much she looked like her older sister. “Jesus is with you, sweetheart. We’re all here and we love you.”

  The tears came fast and steady, more tears than Brooke had ever cried in all her life. “Please … I need to get back to my family.”

  Phil led the way, and Brooke was grateful. God had gotten her through the most difficult twenty minutes since Hayley’s drowning, but without someone to follow, she wasn’t sure she could make her way back to the others. When she got there, she found her family much the way she left them. But now she was the only one with the next bit of news. Which kids were still living, and which one was not. They turned to her and only then did she see Peter. He came to her and held her up, came to her just in time. It was her turn to break down, but before she did she uttered just two words.

  “Heidi Jo.”

  Fourteen

  THE THREE SISTERS SAT HUDDLED TOGETHER ON A SINGLE SOFA in the corner of the waiting room at St. Anne’s. Ashley was grateful for Brooke. Her older sister had been in several times to check on the girls and Erin and Sam, but there was no news at this point. Besides, she was a pediatrician, not a surgeon. She wanted to respect the team working on Erin and her family, so for the most part Brooke stayed in the waiting room with the others. Same as their dad.

  Ashley wasn’t sure what time it was, or how many dreadful hours had passed since they walked through the emergency room doors and heard the news. She didn’t think it was midnight yet, but it could’ve been. It was like they’d slipped into a zone of disbelief and heartache where time and life outside the Intensive Care waiting room had ceased to exist. None of them had pulled out their cell phones or contacted anyone outside of family.

  Not when the shock still consumed them, and not when the news changed every hour. Ashley sat between Kari and Brooke, the three of them holding hands and going back and forth between rehashing the details of the surprise and their last conversations with Erin and then slipping into desperate, prayerful silence.

  A silence like the one surrounding them now.

  Eventually they would have to make phone calls, of course. Tomorrow morning they would call Pastor Mark Atteberry at Clear Creek Community so that a prayer chain could be started. Sam’s work needed to be contacted, and they needed to tell the staff at the church Erin and her family attended.

  But for now no one else needed to know.

  They couldn’t stand the thought of anyone outside the family joining them in the waiting room when things were so critical. When there was no way of telling which of Erin’s family might even survive the night. Ashley closed her eyes. Where two or more were gathered, God was with them. That’s what the Bible said. Certainly the prayers of the Baxter family were enough until they could see past this terrible night.

  Dear God, I’ve never felt like this … never felt so helpless. So many people we love on the other side of the waiting room door, Lord. Please … help me not to live in the why of it all. Help me trust You. Help me breathe through the next hour.

  Ashley kept praying, kept uttering phrases and after a minute or so comfort surrounded her, a comfort and love that was tangible. Not just the feeling of her sisters on either side. But a deep belief that whatever happened next, wherever things settled when this tragedy finished playing out, they would survive. She felt fresh tears, felt them slide through her closed eyelids and stream down her cheeks. The pain was greater than anything she’d ever felt, but she had these two certainties more than even an hour ago.

  God loved them. And they would survive.

  She might not know how they would get through the next hour, but the Lord knew and He was here. I feel Your presence, Lord … Please, stay. Don’t leave us.

  My daughter, I will never leave you or forsake you. I have loved you with an everlasting love.

  Ashley felt the voice of the Spirit whispering to her soul, felt herself nodding along, believing His assurance, needing it like she needed air. She blinked her eyes open and realized that her sisters were struggling again. Grief came in waves, and right now Brooke and Kari seemed to be fighting one of the worst of them. Brooke leaned her head against the wall, eyes vacant. On Ashley’s other side, Kari leaned over her knees, her head in her hand. Her shoulders trembled and her breaths came in quick spurts between quiet sobs. Their dad sat with Luke and Dayne in three chairs nearby, their eyes dry, anxiety written into their strained expressions. Landon and Ryan had taken Katy, Cole, Maddie, and Jessie back to the house. Katy wanted to help Elaine and Reagan with the kids, making up beds on couches and placing sleeping bags throughout the house. Ashley was grateful for their help. Someone needed to stay back, but it couldn’t be her. Not yet. Right now she needed to be here with her sisters and brothers and father.

  Landon and Ryan had returned to the hospital only ten minutes ago, and now they stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the only window in the waiting room, talking in hushed whispers as they stared into the night. The situation was very, very serious. Ashley realized that, even though she couldn’t get her mind around everything Brooke had told them. Serious brain damage sounded terrible, of course. But they could recover, right? Ashley wa
nted to think so, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to actually ask. Even with Brooke sitting right beside her.

  The news at this point was that Sam and Erin had come out of surgery, both were in critical condition and both with spinal and brain trauma. They’d been moved to rooms in the ICU at about the same time as Clarissa and Chloe — who were still both on life support. Amy Elizabeth was worse off than they originally thought. She suffered enough internal injuries that she had also undergone surgery, but the operation had been successful and her condition was marked as serious. She was sedated in a room two floors down. Her doctor believed she would come through this without permanent damage — to her body at least. Doctors had placed her in a medically induced coma to keep her still, and to allow for healing of her internal injuries. They’d likely keep her in the coma for a week or so before bringing her back around and eventually releasing her to go home.

  Wherever home would be when a week had passed.

  Ashley was about to get up and go to the guys near the window, ask Landon if he and Ryan had found out any new information on their way back into the waiting room. But before she could get up a new doctor walked in and shut the door behind him. The man looked stricken.

  Ashley watched her father nod in his direction. “You’re the attending?” He looked relieved by the possibility.

  “I am. Hello, John.” The doctor walked up and put his hand on their father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Their father hung his head for a moment and then looked up. “More news.” It was a statement. As if the decades John had spent working as a doctor told him it wasn’t a matter of whether there’d be more bad news, but when. The accident had been that horrific.