Halos (27 page)

He shook his head. What would be, would be.

“Some things are bigger than us.”

And all the more futile. He spooned a glob of pink stuff. It was tastier than it looked, but he only wanted it over with. Once he’d emptied the box she would have no reason to hover. He did not class Karen with the piranhas, but given the chance, she’d just love to take care of him. He couldn’t even think about that.

He worked his way into the pie. “This is good, Karen. Thank you.”

“Diana’s bringing dinner.”

He didn’t want dinner. But stopping the flow of the meal brigade was as futile as asking for miracles. His lower back ached. He stood up and threw the box away. “You can report to the troops now. Meal launched on target.”

Standing, she reached into her monstrous shoulder bag and brought out her Bible. “I didn’t know if you had yours with you….”

He shook his head wearily.

“You don’t have to study or search. But it might help to just read.”

Once again there was no point arguing.

Her gaze melted over him like warm butter. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Nope.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t lose hope.”

How could you lose something you didn’t have? When Ben had forced his breath into Alessi’s lungs he had hoped with everything in him. For what? The chance to watch her slip away, lose the minimal function that remained? He nodded, doubting he’d fool her for long.

Thirty-Five

S
TEVE SAT DOWN AGAIN WHEN KAREN left and took Alessi’s hand. “They’re at it now. Operation fortification. It must feed a woman’s soul to fill a man’s belly. How else to explain the automatic meal mode?” He stroked her fingers. “Tragedy triggers
kitchen
in the female mind.” He recalled the laughs he and Dad had over some of the offerings.

“Oh, this one’s serious, son. She’s included the recipe.”

“That’s good,”
he’d said around a bite.
“Then we can make it without her.”

Steve smirked. They had become excellent cooks in spite of the never-ending flow of good intentions. He could have taught Alessi more than flipping burgers. He closed his eyes until the wave of pain passed.

The meals had continued nonetheless. Not every night. Sometimes no more than once a week, but never ceasing, year after year. And those were the days before Charity took its new name.

With his stomach full, he grew drowsy. He’d been awake most of the night one way or another. He pressed Alessi’s hand. “Mind if I rest a little?” Dropping his chin onto their entwined fingers, he propped himself on his elbows and closed his eyes. She might feel him there if she didn’t hear him talking. It was all useless, but he didn’t want her to be alone.

Waves of exhaustion rolled over him, but he kept jerking back at the thought of her “drifting away” while he slept. Finally not even that could stop the weariness.

He woke to Diana’s hand on his shoulder. Dave was with her, holding an insulated case that appeared to contain a banquet.

Dave grinned. “Diana brought you Christmas dinner.”

Steve rubbed his face and caught a moist spot at the corner of his mouth. He hoped he hadn’t drooled on Alessi’s hand, but he guessed she wouldn’t mind, even if she knew it. Diana moved Amanda’s flowers to the top of the console that held the monitors and used the shelf, which Steve now realized was on wheels, to make him a table.

It would raise up to fit over the bed for Alessi, but he didn’t suppose people in intensive care ate much. Must serve multiple functions.

“How’s she doin’?” Dave kept his voice low, as though he might disturb her.

“The same.” Although as he looked at her now, it seemed her eyes were more sunken, her face less expressive, as though her essence was leaking out.

“Come and eat, Steve.” Diana nudged his arm.

He took the metal chair over which she had angled the shelf. Steam rose from a slab of prime rib, whipped potatoes, and creamed spinach. Some sort of nutty green salad was in a separate Tupperware, as was a jewel-red dessert with meringue peaks. He could not begin to eat it all, but argument, he knew, would prove fruitless.

“It’s real good.” Dave stood near the stool Steve had vacated.

Steve had a sudden urge to push him out and say, “That’s my place.” But that was ridiculous. Dave had as much right beside Alessi as anyone. He and Ben had been her first and best friends in Charity. If not for them, he would not have found her in his bed and had the opportunity to demonstrate his magnanimity.

He looked down at the food.
“My mother had this grace she used to say. ‘Thank you for this food, O Lord. Make this meal a feast, if only in our minds.”’
This meal was a feast, yet now he prayed for the strength to get it down. He murmured, “Amen,” and took a bite of beef. Dave would be well fed if he took stock of his possibilities.

Steve almost choked when he tried to swallow, then forced the bite down and ordered it to stay. No way would he manage all of it. Dave and Diana spoke in low voices over Alessi, and he realized they were praying. He should leave the room so his lack of faith didn’t poison their hope. Hadn’t Jesus barred all the naysayers and brought in only His most trusted friends when He raised the little girl?

But those were the miracle days when God did that sort of thing. Steve took a bite of potato and noticed the crisp, buttery roll. He managed a bite of that as well. The potatoes went down easily, as did the spinach. Hardly more effort than shoving a bite and swallowing. Then Dr. Deklin came in, and he pushed the shelf away, relieved.

She studied the group a moment, then said, “Has anyone notified Ms. Moore’s family?”

They shared a glance around. Steve said, “She has an aunt and uncle, but I don’t know who or where.”

Dave pursed his lips. “I think she mentioned Palm Beach. We could look up all the Moores.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s her mother’s sister. She won’t be named Moore.”

Diana looked up. “Maybe Cooper got something when he ran her through the system. Her parents or—”

“Her parents are dead.”
“I think my parents dying young is a sign.”

Dr. Deklin scrutinized them. “There’s no one at all?” Steve frowned. “There’s us.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I know. But I need someone who can make legal decisions in this case.”

Steve looked from her to Dave. Dave cleared his throat. “What decisions?”

“Her condition is deteriorating.”

So he hadn’t imagined a decline. It was real.

“I think it’s time to remove the IV and the resp—”

“No.” Steve’s tone left no room for argument. Christmas was not over. Alessi was staying through Christmas.

“Steve, I know this has been a hard year for you.”

“It’s not about me.” But it was. He could hardly pretend Alessi needed this time. “I think we should wait until Ben’s here.” Ben should be part of any decision, especially one that would tick away the moments Alessi had left. Especially after he’d been the one to bring her back from the brink. He swallowed hard. “We can talk about it in the morning.” She had only agreed through Christmas.
“After Christmas I’m out of here.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, determined to stand his ground.

Dr. Deklin nodded. “All right. We’ll talk in the morning.”

By then there might be no decision to make. Steve stood, silently aching.

Dave broke the silence. “You want to go home, Steve? Get some sleep?”

Steve pulled a wry smile. “I’ve slept.”

Diana shook her head. “All hunched over there on the stool? It’s a miracle your neck’s not out of whack.”

His neck was sore. But he’d have plenty of time to work that out. “Let Ben know he needs to be here in the morning.”

Dave nodded grimly. Maybe the fact that God was not answering their prayer was finally setting in. Dave teared up again, and Diana wrapped his waist in her arm. He forced the words, “See you in the morning.” They had never held so much meaning.

Diana said, “I’ll leave the dinner things….”

“Take it.” Steve sat back down on the stool, and for once Diana didn’t argue. She packaged up the food and prepared to go back to her extended family.

Except for the bruising on her neck and arms, and probably places he didn’t see, Alessi looked like the woman who had stepped into the hall in his robe. She did, and yet she didn’t. Something essential was slipping away. Thought? Or spirit.

“God …” He gripped Alessi’s hand. “You don’t make it easy.”

Dad’s faith had never wavered, at least not that Steve could recall. He had taken the lot dealt him and faced it with dignity. To have his young wife run out on him and her own child must have been a crushing blow. But he had attended church every week and thanked God for his blessings.

Steve did not feel thankful. Resentful, yes. Furious. Devastated. But not thankful. That was Alessi’s forte. He looked at her lying there. What good could she possibly find in this? He shook his head.

“I won’t let her go. You’ll have to take her.” Not that it had ever stopped God before.

This crazy girl had come into his life when he hadn’t been looking for her, but she would leave like all the rest. And though she hadn’t chosen to die, she had walked out the door. Why was he clinging to her like the two-year-old child still crying for his mother? Why not let Dr. Deklin put a stop to the effort? A few hours, more or less—could they really matter?

He picked up the Bible Karen used to teach her studies. She knew her stuff. But she had told him he didn’t have to study or search. She knew he had no heart or energy for that. But read? He turned to the Gospels and picked out the miracles. Sometimes there was mud and spit, sometimes just a word. But it was the word of God in the person of Jesus. He didn’t have quite the access that centurion had.

Of course, there was the book of Acts. The great men, Peter and Paul, doing the same things Christ did. But they’d been there, directly commissioned. As all believers were commissioned? Didn’t the Gospel of John say anyone who had faith in Jesus would do what He did and even greater things than that? Somewhere down the line things had fizzled. It just didn’t work that way anymore. He set the Bible down and returned his focus to Alessi.

The clock ticked away the time. Machines kept her body going. He had to work to find her pulse. He pressed her hand to his cheek. What was she to him anyway? Hardly more than a stranger. Why prolong the inevitable? If she were a stray dog, hit by a car, he would have her put down. Was he less merciful to a woman?

He pressed her fingertips to his lips. “What do you want, Alessi?” But she couldn’t want anything. Her mind was no more than animal function. He pressed his eyes shut. How could he even think like that? This was Alessi.

Only it wasn’t. The part that made her special was destroyed. Yet, looking at her there, he could almost pretend she slept. If he called her name, she would open her eyes and tell him the bad dream she’d had.
“It was only a dream, Alessi. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He sniffed the tears he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t even cried like this when Dad died. But then he had Barb there. No man would cry in front of his fiancée. Or maybe he’d blocked the emotion, just as he’d blocked the hurt of her leaving. Why couldn’t he block it now?

That key Alessi had turned. She had unlocked his heart and hidden the key in her own. When hers stopped, he’d be laid open. He swallowed the pain filling his throat.
Lord, why?
But that wasn’t the question, he knew. Why was for people who didn’t believe God knew best. That’s what Dad always said.
“Not why, son, just what do I do now?”

“Okay, God,” he whispered. “What do I do now?”

Nothing miraculous. No hand writing on the wall. No burning bush. But he did sense that things would play out as they had to, and somehow he would go on. Two weeks with Alessi had broken his angry shell. Maybe he would form it again after she left him for good. Part of him hoped not. He’d rather be like Dad.

“I’m glad you came, Alessi.” And he was, even with all the pain he felt now and the worse pain ahead.

He turned at the motion behind him. Burton Welsh. What was he doing here? Unbearable sadness washed in like a wave. It wasn’t the pastor’s fault, but Steve wanted so much to blame him, to blame someone.

Burton said, “How is she?”

“Dying.” What good were platitudes?

The pastor’s hue was already gray. He didn’t pale or slump. Just took the chair across from Steve’s and studied her still face. After a while his eyes closed, but his lips didn’t move, and whether he prayed or just sat there Steve couldn’t tell. They kept silent vigil until nine, then Burton stood up.

Steve had to ask. “Where’s Carl?”

Burton’s face creased with grief. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

Thirty-Six

T
HE ARMY SUPPLY COT WAS SUFFICIENT. What he couldn’t stand were the nightmares. They hadn’t gone away. He had tried to end them, but they had come back worse than ever. His mother crying, pleading. “Please, Duke. Please.” And blood. Carl tasted it still.

“You got a thing for the preacher?” Duke’s face like a boiled ham.

“No. It’s not like that.”

“I saw you.” Blows and more blood, and Carl shrinking into the wall. He’d been angry too. How could she leave him with the monster? She must hate him. And so he dug into his own hate. Bottomless wells of it.

His mother gasping, “Pastor only wanted to help.”

But help was not something they were allowed. Carl watched the evil take over Duke’s face. His knee in her belly. “For that, it’ll be slow.”

Mind numbing, Carl watched until it ended. Then Duke grunted. “Open the hatch.”

Carl had held it open as his mother was tumbled under the floor. Then Duke shoveled in the lime and said, “We won’t be coming here for a while.” And when he saw tears on Carl’s face he punched him.

Carl shivered. The sleeping bag was good to twenty below, but the cold he felt was internal. He lay unmoving, wondering what condition the body was in. And if she’d come out once, what would stop her from coming back again?

The morning light had never been so unwelcome. Steve was almost angry when Ben walked in with Dave, as though his presence somehow caused the climax it now facilitated. He had told Dr. Deklin they would decide when all three were present, but now that it came to it, he could not say yes.

Ben spoke low. “How’re you doin’?”

Steve didn’t answer. What difference did it make? What he felt or thought was irrelevant. He clenched his hands.

Dave handed him a cup of coffee. “Heard about Carl?”

Steve’s jaw tightened. What did he care about Carl? “Do they have him?”

Dave shook his head. “It’s like he just disappeared.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Are they looking for the car?”

“Yeah. But they’ve been looking for two and a half weeks already.”

Not very hard. Not hard enough. Not enough to stop … Steve ran a hand over his face. “He must have it hidden. And it can’t be far if he could get at it.”

Ben shrugged. “Where’s he gonna go? He’s just a kid.”

Just a kid? A murderous, malicious, twisted kid.

Dave said, “I’m sure they have an APB on him.”

Why were they talking about Carl?

Ben shook his head. “I sure wish none of this happened.”

Understatement of the year. Steve sipped the hot coffee, willing the caffeine into his bloodstream. Though he wished he could remain fuzzy and disconnected, he owed Alessi better than that.

Ben stared down into her face. “When I first saw her out there at the pumps, trying to catch the snowflakes on her tongue, I thought, that one’s special.”

Steve’s throat tightened. Had Carl seen it too? Was that why he singled her out, chose to destroy her?

Dave ran a hand over his forehead. “The church is praying. I don’t remember the last time there was a vigil sign-up.”

“What?” Steve glanced at him.

“That’s right. We started a sign-up sheet for people to choose a time to pray so there wouldn’t be any hour she isn’t covered.”

Steve stared into his cup. “What are they praying?”

“God’s will.”

Steve took a swallow. “God’s will happens regardless of prayer.”

Dave shook his head. “Not always. Sometimes evil gets in the way.”

Ben said, “Like in Daniel, when God answered the prayer but the angel couldn’t get through for twenty-one days.”

Steve shot his breath through his teeth. “You think He’s sending an angel?” They sounded like Alessi with her halos. And where had the angel been when she needed protection?

Dave said, “The point is we can’t lose hope.”

Lose hope? Steve took Alessi’s hand. What exactly did the guys think they were gathered there for?

Dr. Deklin came in. “Good morning.”

Steve didn’t look her way. He didn’t want to see the grim compassion she would show for the decision they must make. He kept his gaze on Alessi, her face angelic as she lay there. Halos meant something good would happen? She looked anything but hopeful, and yet …

“I appreciate you all being here. I know this is difficult. But I need to tell you things have changed since we spoke last.”

Steve turned in surprise. Was she going to say Alessi had improved, that somehow a continuance of care might help?

“We traced her uncle through the license plate records.”

So the uncle was real, another true part in Alessi’s story. Now the family would get involved. At least there would be time for them to come and see for themselves what her condition warranted.

Dr. Deklin’s aqua eyes softened momentarily. “The decision to terminate heroic measures has been made.”

“What?” Steve gripped the bar beside the bed.

“I spoke with the family this morning, and they gave permission to remove the respirator.”

“Of course they would.” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice. “They don’t care about her. They haven’t even seen her.”

Dave and Ben looked apologetic, but Steve was not about to let it go. “They’re not really family, not the way it’s supposed to be. They took her in, but—”

“They assured me her grandparents would be in agreement. Steve …” Dr. Deklin took a step toward him. “There is nothing to be gained by prolonging extraordinary measures.”

“You don’t know that.”

“My years in medicine indicate it.”

His argument was pointless, he knew.

“I’m very sorry, Steve. But the decision has been made.” As she spoke, a nurse and a technician joined them. Steve had to step aside to let the young man through, but the nurse went to the other side of the bed, disconnected the IV, hooked the tubes over the swing arm, and rolled the unit out of the cubicle. Alessi never stirred.

Dr. Deklin said, “After the respirator is discontinued, she may stop breathing at once or she may continue on her own. I don’t think she will have the strength to go on for long, but sometimes we’re surprised.” She looked at Steve with that last comment.

He stared her down. Did she think he didn’t understand reality? Maybe he’d sounded that way. He just felt someone had to stand up for Alessi, no matter how futile. At the doctor’s nod, the chunky technician turned off the machine and removed the tube.

Suddenly the light took form. A being more wonderful than she could imagine in any of her woodland scenes reached out to her. Alessi wanted to step forward but could not find a foot to move or a hand to reach. She tried to explain but had no mouth. She was no longer alone, but she had no way of connecting to the being before her. Longing seized her.
Don’t leave me
. Not even her thoughts could reach him, yet he seemed to know her need.

He moved toward her without walking. In his hand he held a fiery stone, like a coal from the heart of a volcano. As he drew near, the heat from the stone reached her, yet she didn’t recoil. Still closer he came, until the stone burned, and she seemed to burst aflame.

She gasped in wonder….

Steve closed his eyes as the monitors toned.
Lord …
Dave and Ben were silent, but he sensed their distress. None of them had wanted this; no one could have foreseen it. Alessi had come in with the snow like a puff of magic. Now she would be gone, crushed like a snowflake underfoot. And Christmas was over.

But she breathed. With a quick sucking sound, she breathed. Steve opened his eyes and stared. Her face had not changed; she didn’t move, except for the tiny rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to cheer.
Go, Alessi! You show them
. Her uncle, her grandparents, Dr. Deklin and her years of medicine.
Breathe, Alessi, breathe
. Ben hadn’t put his breath in her for nothing. Steve looked at his friend. Was he remembering?

Yes, the doctor had said she might breathe on her own, and he knew it didn’t change anything. It almost made it worse, but he didn’t feel that way. He exulted. Swallowing back the tears, he looked at Dave, read in his face the same hopeful anticipation. It was stupid. It defied everything he knew by experience, but hope bloomed inside him.

Lord, let her live
. It was cruel, unconscionable to want her to linger as she was. But she breathed. A rush identical to the one he’d experienced on the side of the road when Ben made her breathe lifted and carried him. He’d be dashed, he knew. But right now he rode the wave.

Silently the technician wheeled the respirator out. Dr. Deklin waited a short while, then told them she would check back. Steve knew she was doing her best, and it must be bad knowing her training and skill could not change things. But he hadn’t expected Alessi to breathe, and she did, better and stronger than the first time. The tube must have opened the airway.

Steve took his seat again beside the bed. “You guys don’t need to stay.”

Ben shook his head. “We’ll sit awhile.”

Steve looked from one to the other. “Guess she’s made of tougher stuff than they thought.”

“Yeah.” Dave pulled a chair in as he had the first time they sat there together. “Or maybe God’s not finished with her.”

Steve’s heart pumped faster.
That’s right, Lord. You’re not done yet, not by a long shot
. The hurt would be far more devastating if he allowed himself to expect anything but the worst. Was he willing to open to that pain? He’d been so well insulated by the time Barb left him that it hardly did more than confirm his morose condition. But every breath Alessi took seemed a bellows to his soul. Could he pray for a miracle? It was safer not to ask, but …

A single flicker under her eyelids stopped his breath. “Did you see that?”

Ben leaned close. “See what?”

“Her eyelids moved.” Steve stared, but Alessi might have been a wax statue in a museum, she lay so still. He remembered touring one with his dad.
“They look so real,”
he’d said, even glancing over his shoulder to see if they moved once he passed by. This time he was sure he’d seen it, but there was nothing more.

She had been comatose now for thirty-one hours. One flicker of an eyelid changed nothing. Her brain scan would still show minimal function. He knew the reality. But Jesus raised Lazarus.

Steve clasped his hands together.
Lord, you can do this
. Everything inside him knew it wouldn’t happen. It would be as Dr. Deklin said; she would breathe for a while, then slowly slip away.
You can, Lord
. Just as it might have been different with his mom leaving, his dad dying, Barb breaking their engagement. His hope sagged.

Ben shifted. “We could pray.”

Steve glanced sidelong. They had attended the same church since they were small but had never prayed aloud together, the three of them.

Ben glanced at Dave. “The Word says where two or more gather …”

Steve took Alessi’s hand. “Go ahead, Ben.”

Dave reached out and took Ben’s hand, then reached for Steve’s. “Sort of solidarity like.”

Steve took his hand. The other two closed their eyes, but he kept his on Alessi.

“Oh, Lord,” Ben said, “we don’t know what you intend to do with all this. But we sure care about Alessi, and we’re asking for a miracle.”

There it was, what he’d been afraid to voice even in his thoughts. Doubt gripped Steve’s heart. It wouldn’t happen, didn’t happen. It never happened. He watched Alessi for any sign, but there was not even the flicker of an eyelid.

Dave cleared his throat. “I believe in miracles. I believe in you, Jesus.”

Steve’s grip tightened on Alessi’s hand. Could he say the same? It wouldn’t be true, so he gave it his best shot. “Please, Lord.”

Ben said, “Amen,” and they all dropped hands.

Not the most eloquent prayer of all time, but Steve was glad they’d done it. “People are really praying on a schedule?”

Dave nodded. “Around the clock. Even through the night.”

Steve smiled. What would Alessi think of that? And then it hit him again that she couldn’t think. He kept drifting into the hope zone and imagining the impossible. That was Alessi, not him.
“Maybe I’ll just go see if someone returned my car.”
He could still see her standing at the pumps as though she really thought it might have been there. And of course it wasn’t.