An August Harvest

by Ben Marney

  When they left, he walked to the desk and asked the nurse once more if they knew anything else. If she did, she didn’t tell him. When he turned around, he saw Detective Reynolds sitting next to Detective Johnson in the waiting room. She had a somber look on her face. He didn’t really want to know, but somehow, he forced himself to walk over to her.

  She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Is he gone?” he asked softly.

  “No, he’s still alive, but it doesn’t look very good. Would you like me to take you to him?”

  Grant sat down next to her and sighed. “I would love that, but I can’t leave now. I have to stay here. Charley will understand.”

  “How about some coffee?” Detective Johnson asked. “I could use some. I’m sure there’s a cafeteria around here somewhere.”

  On their way to the coffee shop, they came across a small chapel. Grant stopped at the door and motioned to them. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes.” He opened the door of the chapel and stepped in.

  The room was small, only about twelve feet wide and twenty feet deep. There were four rows of eight chairs, four chairs on each side, with a center aisle leading to a small wooden pulpit, bookended by two beautiful all white flower arrangements. Behind the pulpit was a wall of multicolored stained glass, glowing softly, backlit by florescent lights.

  In the front row, kneeling by the pulpit, was a soldier, a Marine, and he was praying.

  Sitting silently in the back row, Grant studied him. The pain the Marine was feeling was obvious, radiating through his body. His young face was stern. His eyes were closed tight, his brow furrowed and wrinkled. His sun-tanned cheeks were wet, dripping from his tears. Grant could almost feel his pain and wondered what terrible consequence had brought him to that small chapel that day, but he doubted whatever the marine was living through could be as bad as what had brought him there.

  When the Marine stood, wiped his eyes and walked out, Grant move to the front, nearer the pulpit. He stared at the stained glass with images of the angels hovering over a crucified Jesus Christ nailed to the cross. He felt something hit his fingers. He held up his hand and inspected it, surprised when he realized that it was a tear, his tear. He was so numb, he was crying and didn’t even know it. When he touched his face and felt the wetness, he lost control. Leaning forward, rocking in his chair, hugging his body, he let it all out and wept from the depths of his soul.

  Through his tears, in a gravelly voice he spoke out loud. “God...what have I done to you? Why are you so angry at me?” He wiped his eyes and looked up at the image of Christ. “I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would have offended you so…but you keep taking away everything and everyone I love.”

  He stood, walked closer to the stained glass and put his hand on the image. “I know it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to you, but…after Rita and Audrey...I was so angry. I just had nothing to say to you.”

  He gently touched the stained glass image of Christ’s face with his hand. “But I do now. I have a lot of questions for you and I sure hope you’re listening.”

  “He’s always listening,” a deep voice said behind him.

  Grant spun around. The Marine was standing in the aisle. “I apologize, sir,” he said gently, “for eavesdropping, but you were praying out loud.”

  Grant smiled at him and nodded. “I guess I was, sorry. I thought I was alone. No need to apologize.”

  The Marine walked to the front row and picked up his cap. “I left my cover,” he said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Grant whispered, “about Him listening.”

  “I am, sir. I know He is real.” The Marine folded his cap and held it in his hand. “At times it may not seem like it, because he doesn’t always answer our prayers...but He loves you, sir, and He is always listening.” The Marine nodded, turned and walked out of the chapel.

  Grant walked back to the row of chairs and sat down, staring up at the stained glass. “Very impressive young man. I bet You’re proud of him,” he said, smiling. “So, how do we do this? Where do I start?”

  He sighed, leaned back in the chair and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m not going to ask You why You took Rita and Audrey from me. We’ve been over that a million times already and You haven’t answered. So, let me ask You this. What’s the deal with Charley? I believe he may be one of Your angels. Is that it? You sent him to me to help me get through losing Rita and Audrey? If that was it, I’d like to tell You that he’s done a hell of a good job.” He lifted up his hands, “Sorry, that slipped out. Is hell a bad word? I never have figured that one out. If it is, again, sorry. Back to Charley. If he’s one of Your angels that you sent to me, why take him now? If I’ve ever needed an angel,” his eyes filled and tears rolled down his cheek, “God, now is the time. Please don’t take him. I love him and I need him desperately.”

  Fighting his emotions, he sat upright and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I know You work in mysterious ways, but why save Melissa once, just to let her die like this? That’s Your plan for her, really? And Annabelle? What has she ever done? Lord, she’s so young and innocent...and good. Why her?”

  He broke down again and cried hard for a long time. Finally, he stopped and lifted his head. “I know I probably shouldn’t say this to You, but aren’t You supposed to be a loving God? If You are, I’m not seeing much of that love. If I’ve done something that’s offended You, please forgive me. Show me what it was and I swear I’ll never do it again, or take me, punish me, God, not them. I may deserve Your wrath, but they are so good...they do not deserve this. Please, God, I’m not asking You to give me anything, but I’m begging You...work Your miracles...give them their lives, don’t take them, not now. Please, Lord, let them live...if You need to take someone...take me instead.”

  “My first name is Anastasia,” Detective Reynolds said when he sat down.

  “And mine is Mark,” Detective Johnson said.

  Anastasia took his hand and squeezed it. “I think we’re beyond formalities at this point. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “We sure have,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ve told you how much I appreciate what you both did back there with Charley and Molly. Thank you.”

  “She has to be traumatized,” Mark said softly. “I have a granddaughter about the same age. Poor little thing.”

  Grant looked down. “I can’t imagine what he’s done to her. She’s in for a long road ahead.” He looked down at the table and sighed. “Especially if Melissa doesn’t make it. But if I have anything to do with it, Molly’s going to be okay, eventually.”

  “If there’s anything we can ever do to help, just ask,” Mark said. “If you ever need a babysitter, my wife and I would love to watch her. We could set up a play date with my granddaughter.”

  “I may take you up on that.”

  “There you are!” a voice said. “They told me you may be in here.” Rob pulled up a chair at their table and sat down. “What the hell happened?”

  For the next twenty minutes, Grant sat quietly sipping his coffee, listening to Detective Reynolds fill him in with the gory details. He didn’t have the energy to add anything to the conversation, so he kept quiet.

  “How long have they been back there? In the E.R.?” Rob asked grimly.

  “A few hours,” Grant answered, finally speaking, “but they won’t tell me anything.”

  “They can’t. You’re not a relative. The HIPAA patient privacy laws are very specific and strict. What about Molly? Where is she?”

  “She’s safe, thanks to Detective Johnson here. He was the one that got her out of there to safety. She’s with Connie and Wilson James. They’re two of Melissa’s close friends; they grew up together.”

  “How is she doing? Was she hurt at all?”

  “Not physically,” Grant said. “We were just talking about that. I’m sure Jerry has done some severe damage to her, but we won’t know how much that is for a long time
, maybe years.”

  Rob sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I can’t help but wonder if I didn’t have something to do with all this.”

  “What are you talking about?” Grant asked, frowning, “What could you have to do with this?”

  “The last time I talked to Jerry, I may have stepped over the line. He was such a pompous jackass, I just couldn’t hold back.”

  What did you say to him?”

  “I was almost laughing at him. Rubbing it in his face. He had just lost every single thing he cared about in his life...and I was laughing about it.” Rob looked over his glasses at Grant. “I should have known better. I knew he was probably unstable, but I never dreamed he would do something like this.”

  “Rob, we all thought Jerry was just a selfish, arrogant greedy bastard. No one knew he was crazy. You or no one else could have predicted he was capable of doing something like this.”

  “You’d be surprised at what seemingly normal stable people are capable of,” Detective Johnson added. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen in my career. Sometimes people just snap and do unthinkable things. It happens every day.” He looked at Rob. “I’ve had years of dealing with this sort of thing. Trust me, Mr. Waterson, I know for a fact, it was not your fault. No one could have known he’d do this.”

  When they got back to the waiting room, Grant saw an older couple he assumed could be Annabelle’s parents, standing in front of the reception desk, talking to the nurse. He walked up to them. “Excuse me, but are you Annabelle’s parents?”

  The woman’s eyes were red and swollen. She lifted her eyes up at him and said, “Yes, we are. I’m Sue Douglas, her mother. Are you Grant Nash?”

  He nodded yes, but before he could say anything, she burst into tears, reached out and pulled him into a hug. “She thinks so much of you,” she said, sniffing back her tears. “She’s always telling us about how talented you are, and how wonderful you treat her.”

  Her father held out his hand. “I’m Albert Douglas, Annabelle’s father. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Grant reached around her mother’s hug and shook his hand. “I’m so sorry this happened. Have they told you how she’s doing? They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

  Her mother released her grip and backed away. “They said she’s stable, but still in grave condition.”

  “Will they let you see her?”

  “No,” Albert said, “they won’t let us see her yet. They said maybe in a few hours. But if she’s stable,” he said loud enough for the nurse to hear, “then I don’t see why we can’t at least peek in and look at her!”

  “I don’t, either.” Grant said, motioning toward the waiting room. “You guys have had a long hard trip. Why don’t we go find some place to sit down?”

  They found a seat across from Rob and the two detectives. Grant made the introductions and sat down next to them.

  “Mr. Nash,” Albert said, “could you tell me what happened to my girl?”

  “Please call me Grant,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and looked Albert in the eyes. “Simply put, Annabelle was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And to be completely honest with you, it’s all my fault this happened to her, because I put her there.”

  As gently as he could, for the next hour, he told them the entire story. The only part he left out was his true feelings for Annabelle and their growing relationship. He didn’t tell them to protect himself; he did it to protect Annabelle. They were an old-fashioned couple from Boone, North Carolina. There was no doubt in his mind that Annabelle had not confided her true feelings about him to her parents. As far as they knew, he was just her boss. They would never understand how a man of his age could fall for their very young and innocent daughter. Especially a man who had just spent the last hour telling them about another woman that he was in love with.

  “Grant,” Annabelle’s mother said, taking his hand in hers, “we don’t blame you for this. It’s obvious to me and Albert that you cared a lot about our daughter. You tried your best to get her away from the danger. It was her decision not to drive straight home to us. She didn’t listen to you and went to her apartment instead. What happened to her is not your fault. It’s in God’s hands now. You are a good man who has been wonderful to our daughter, and we thank you for everything you’ve done for her. So please stop blaming yourself for this.”

  “Thank you. Annabelle is a special person and everything I’ve done for her she has deserved. She is the talented one between us.” He turned and looked at Albert. “She knows more about construction than I ever will. And she learned that from you. You both have done an amazing job raising her.”

  “She knows more than me, too,” Albert said, wiping his eyes.

  “Is there a chapel here in the hospital?” her mother asked.

  “Yes,” Grant said, “follow me. I’ll take you there.”

  He led them down the hallway and left them alone in the chapel to pray. He needed a break from people and wanted to be alone, so he walked to the cafeteria, bought a cup of coffee and found a seat in the back corner.

  Across the room, sitting alone was the Marine. He was staring out the window, talking to himself.

  Grant watched him a few minutes, then got up and walked over to him. “Mind if I join you?”

  The Marine jump to his feet, standing at attention. “No, sir. I could use the company.”

  Grant pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “I wanted to personally thank you for your service. How long have you been in the Marine Corps?”

  “Two years,” he said, sitting in his chair, “but I just re-enlisted.”

  “Seen any action?”

  “Yes, sir. I just got back from my second tour of Afghanistan.”

  “I can’t imagine what that must be like. I never served in the military, but I am a patriot and hold all of our soldiers serving around the world in the highest regard. When I see one like you, I feel proud.”

  “Thank you, sir. I am very proud to serve.”

  “You have someone here in the hospital, I assume,” Grant said. “Is it serious?”

  “I don’t really know. I’m not part of her family, so they won’t tell me how she is. But I’m pretty sure it must be very serious. She was rushed here in an ambulance.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  The Marine lifted his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “She used to be, but we broke up. I haven’t seen or talked to her in three years.”

  “But you’ve never gotten over her, right? That’s why you’re here, waiting alone. And she was who you were praying for in the chapel.”

  He clinched his jaw. “I love her, sir. And I always will.”

  “You didn’t have to tell me that. It’s pretty obvious,” Grant said with a smile. “Why did you two break up?”

  He looked away and stared out the window. “It was because of me. I chased her away because I was stupid. She was always very smart, a lot smarter than me, always at the top of the class, ever since first grade. But I was always at the bottom. I hated school, but she loved it. She tried to help me, but I didn’t care about my grades. All I wanted to do was smoke dope, ride my skateboard and play video games.”

  Grant took a sip of his coffee and thought for a second. “How long were you two together?”

  “From the first grade through her first year of college,” he said softly.

  “I know this is none of my business, but she must have seen something in you to stay with you all those years. You must not have been all that stupid.”

  “Oh yes, I was. When I look back now, I don’t understand why she stayed with me that long. But she finally had enough and told me that she didn’t love me anymore. She said I was just too immature for her.”

  “Ouch,” Grant said, “that had to hurt.”

  “Yes sir. I wanted to die. I tried to get her back, but she stopped returning my calls and then she changed her number. That was three years ago. I haven’t talked to her since then.”

 
“So you joined the Marines to forget her, to see the world. To get a different woman in every port, right?”

  He shook his head. “No, sir. I joined the Marines for her. To prove to her that I could grow up. That I could be someone. Someone she could be proud of.”

  “I don’t get it, soldier. If you love her this much, why haven’t you called her and let her know that you’re not the same guy she broke up with three years ago?”

  “I didn’t have her number and I couldn’t make myself call her parents to get it. They never liked me much.”

  “But you’re here, at this hospital. How did you know where she was?”

  “I called one of her high school friends. It took me a while, but she finally gave me her address. I got off the plane this morning and drove straight there, but when I got there, they were loading her into an ambulance. I followed it here.”

  “Grant!” He heard someone’s voice yell behind him.

  He turned around to see Brenda and Marshall running toward him. When he stood, they both grabbed him and hugged him tight.

  “I’m so sorry,” Brenda said tearfully. “Have you heard anything?”

  When he told them no, Marshall frowned. “They’ll tell me!” He growled. “Let’s go, follow me. We’re going to find out something right now!”

  Grant grinned, “Attaboy, Doc. Let’s go get ‘em”

  The Marine stood. “Good luck, sir.”

  “Thank you. Wait. Marshall, could you find out about my friend’s girl when you’re back there? They won’t tell him anything, either.”

  Marshall nodded. “Damn straight I will. What’s her name, soldier?”

  “Annabelle Douglas,” he said.

  They all froze, shot each other looks and then looked back at the Marine. “No way…” Grant said. “Are you Drake?”

  The Marine’s eyes flew open wide. Jumping up to attention, he said, “Yes, sir. I’m Private First Class Drake Davis. How do you know my name?”