Healing Grace (32 page)

After rattling a few pages, he shifted restlessly again.

“Still uncomfortable? Can I get you anything?” she asked. His face was gray. His tremors must have made reading the newspaper difficult. Grace could no longer pretend Ted was not a whisper away from meeting God face to face. She wondered if he knew.

Ted coughed and jiggled his foot, grimacing. “Tell me about growing up in Tennessee. What was it like in Woodside?”

Now it comes. Forgive me. But he already knows.

“Besides college, I never lived anywhere else. Until now.”

Ted’s eyes closed. She helped him shift until he was lying down with his head on her lap. She forced herself to study his long eyelashes, bright in the lamplight, against his ashen cheeks. His breathing was somewhat labored and after a moment Grace hurt, too, with the struggle of forcing herself to breathe out of sync with him.

“The hard part of living outside of Tennessee is adjusting to different customs. In Woodside there is an unwritten courtesy not to touch non-family members.” She watched him for his reaction. He did not open his eyes, as if he didn’t want to know this.

Finally, he acknowledged without opening his eyes, “We’ve hugged plenty. It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” Now his expression was not gentle as he sat up again to look at her.

She lowered her gaze and plucked at the hem of her blouse with a shaky finger. Her earring fell across her cheek and the tear she couldn’t stop flowed against it.

“Grace—Grace, please—look at me. Please, tell me about—why. Tell me about the touch. You tried it that day, didn’t you? Right before you took a leave of absence? You’ve tried to show me before, haven’t you? That you can help people—like with Jimmy? What exactly went on there, anyway?”

Grace got up, brushing at her face with an angry gesture and went to stand at the big window to look out onto the porch and yard, able only to make out the dark shapes of bushes and trees in the cold, late autumn dark.

“Tell me what the doctor said today.”

* * * *

Ted shook his head, annoyed at her change of subject. He had come home that afternoon from another session at the hospital, exhausted and defeated. He was glad Kaye had taken Eddy home. Back. Whatever.

“Doctor Beardslee took the case to his teaching hospital in Philadelphia,” he said, trying to make it sound like a faceless, nameless report. He felt encouraged when she nodded. Why didn’t she turn around? What was she looking for, out there? It was dark.

“You know how we knew the therapy was only working a little up to this point, despite the fact that I was better over summer. The pain proves it.”

He wanted to get up, or ask her to come back and sit close to him. He shivered. “Beardslee and the others initially thought what I had was some kind of virus. And the stem cell thing they tried, well, now I find out it was only for experimentation. It didn’t help my condition or cure me, or anything. He confirmed today that he can’t stop the nerve damage. Soon I’ll become completely immobile. They want to do some, ah, some research—to help others with my symptoms.”

Beardslee had been blunt. Ted’s expected life span with the condition was up, but if Ted wanted, it could help others if he would allow them to perform experimental surgery.

“One of the students had been involved with a case sort of like mine,” Ted said reluctantly. “My condition may or may not be a result of an injury”— he reached up to his temple and the scar there— “like this. Sometimes lesions form along the spine, maybe in response…or not… I didn’t catch all of it. The gist is, once these things start forming on my nerves, my, ah, ‘functions’ are cut off and death follows pretty quick.”

He watched Grace take hold of her elbows and hunch.

“He was sorry, there was nothing they could do. There were so few cases, blah, blah.” Ted was cold with fear and slightly ashamed. He knew Grace would understand the medical jargon, the outcomes. Would she want him to do whatever he could to help others like him?

The hesitation on his part—would she understand that? How could he not want to participate in research that might help others? But he did not want to be totally crippled and helpless for the rest of his short life. The drugs and surgery might cause him to lose complete mobility and control of his bodily functions. He would rather be dead.

He looked up at her then, not wanting to admit his fear to her but at the same time wanting nothing more than to crawl into her arms and shake and shake and have her tell him it would be okay. She faced him and held him with her eyes. He reached out. She came closer and took his hand.

He held on with both hands, now, trying not to cry.

* * * *

How could she tell him that his suffering was probably because of her? She left Woodside, unforgiven and unforgiving. Angry, sad, militant, because God had not done what she wanted him to do.

But, now that she had a chance to go back and do it over, why did he stop her?
God, I thought you brought me here to fix him!

Jonathan and Sean were faded, fond memories. Eddy seemed the only one oblivious to her peculiar gift, even the times that he needed it. She could bandage a scrape without becoming all tingly and gaga over the unnaturally quick restorative powers her fingers promoted. Eddy anchored her body and soul and did not take anything from her that she wasn’t willing to give.

Grace thought about her grandmother. A healer, too, Grandmother Eames had been called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice. Was she willing to pay the same price? There was always some exchange for the gift.

“Empathy,” Jonathan called it. She had the touch of an empath. He studied the concept at college, though he had to go into mysticism to find anything about it. He had been fascinated by her gift, almost obsessed by watching her at work. When cancer crept into his bones, she couldn’t reach down deep enough to find it and draw it out. Jonathan had never asked her to work the miracle for him, she remembered from her dream state. Had Jonathan wanted to die?

He had taken the death of Sean with a bizarre calm that obviously masked his inner grief. Maybe she had been afraid to try to heal her husband. Maybe she had been so guilt-ridden that her own parents had ultimately been the instrument of his loss. Naturally, their marriage foundered afterward. Jonathan had withdrawn into a solitary shell until he was able to lose himself in his illness.

Maybe she had been a coward.
Forgive me, forgive me.

Now what did God want of her, if she couldn’t use the gift on this man? How could she be forgiven if not through healing Ted? God blocked the way, like the angels with flaming swords that guarded Eden.

She put her hands over her face and talked through them, so she wouldn’t have to look directly at him. “Ted, please—I need to think for awhile. I’m not putting you or your news off or anything, but I…I don’t feel very well right now. Can we talk more tomorrow?”

If tomorrow comes—if tomorrow isn’t too soon—if tomorrow she could still be coherent.

She only half-heard Ted’s slow, defeated struggle to his feet to reach the door.

Like Jacob, she would wrestle with this angel through the night, determined not to give up until she found the answer. She only hoped the blessing would be there, too.

Redemption came in the palest hour; the hush just before the sun rises. The orb glimmered angry and red this morning. She watched from the veranda with her steaming tea. Her soul was so cold. Her tears were frozen solid inside and could not escape.

Healing the body could never be enough. The firm touch of a clinician would never be the same as taking their suffering into your soul, cleaning it and restoring that piece of spirit to make the hurting ones whole once more. She could not escape her calling.

Grace thought of stories in her Bible. Jonah ran from God and was swallowed by the whale so he could be sent back to complete his task. Mary, the mother of God, had been asked to do the strangest thing, which resulted in people forever questioning her veracity, her sanity.

She was somewhere in between. A task unfinished, the state of soul in question.

I am not my own. And that’s where the struggle ends.

Everyone is given unique talents, she had once told Ted. Understanding how to use them is the challenge. “When the time is right,” Lena said. “You’ll know.”

The time was right. She called Shelby as soon as it was decent.

“I would like it if you could take Eddy for about a week. Ted has some special therapy and decisions to make, and I need to be with him.”

“Of course. Just get him ready and have Ted write a note to Mrs. Webb that I’ll pick him up after school.”

“Bless you!” Her laugh came out as a bit of an hysterical croak.

Now for the hard part. She had to convince Ted to agree to go with her. They had to go to Woodside. That was the only thing she knew for sure she could do for him when she rang Ted’s doorbell.

* * * *

At the Woodside cemetery, Grace squatted near the weathered stone, hunched against the wind and mist of the place. She was not afraid, but trembled nonetheless. She traced the dull lettering cut into the stone. “No greater love…” She grabbed its lichened edges and rested her forehead against the coldness.

She was not greatly surprised when they found her here. She knew they would come, sooner or later. She left Ted at the hotel after a slow and painful journey from Michigan to Woodside. She forced him to eat some beef broth and bread when they stopped, but since yesterday she had taken nothing for herself. He had slipped into the immobility that would soon affect his ability to breathe on his own.

Now she was here, she began to doubt whether she was doing the right thing.

“Jonathan’s life on earth had come to an end,” Elizabeth said clearly through the rising breeze. “There was nothing you could do and we recognized that. I’m sorry you felt so guilty about it. He understood, you know, dear. He never blamed you or anyone else. It’s right that you come back. You need us as much as we have always needed you. You were forgiven long ago. Now it’s time to accept that, and to allow yourself to be healed.”

A deeper voice spoke next, less gentle and understanding than Elizabeth.

“You do not hold sway over God, Grace.” Reverend Jeremiah Edwards, the town’s governmental and spiritual leader, spoke. “You cannot bend God to your will.”

He knew her heart then, the secret she thought she had hidden. He peeled her away from her grandmother’s gravestone and tugged her upright.

Gentle fingers traced her palm. “No sign of the scars that once marked your gift,” Jeremiah said. “No trace of the stigmata you received as a child in His presence. Your grandmother used her gifts as God wanted, even when it meant her own life. Grace Runyon, you are facing the ultimate test. How much do you love God? He is a jealous God, demanding that you love him before all others. Have you given your love to another? Have you perverted that love by worshipping his gift and not the Giver?”

“I don’t know!”

Little prickles spurted at her hairline. Drops rolled across her cheeks and into her eyes. Red. Her palms ached. She heard them pray as if at a distance. “We hold your daughter in your loving care. We commend her soul and her gift of healing unto you. It’s time, now, Grace. Lena and the others helped to prepare.”

“Yes, I know. Grandmother loved them, didn’t she?”

“Yes, Grace,” Reverend Edwards said. “She loved them. Come.” He used his handkerchief to wipe her face. They walked together, across the cemetery yard, bent against the rising wind, dead leaves blowing across their path.

* * * *

Ted lay on a padded gurney at the church, unclad but, for modesty, with wrapped linen cloth around his loins. He could no longer move, but he felt strangely calm. The peace of this place permeated his soul. If he died here, he was grateful to be surrounded by so much love, even if it came from strangers. Lena, Grace’s friend, and two others who identified themselves as care workers, fetched him that afternoon from the hotel. He had not been surprised at their presence or their destination.

He had nothing to do but think while he lay here. Grace had tried to explain to him what she wanted, why they had to come here to Woodside. He agreed to try because he loved and trusted her. This was different than Beardslee’s experiments.

He still was unsure of many things. One thing he knew was that, if he was to die, he would rather go to heaven than hell. Grace’s example of trust and faith taught him that. That much he believed. Was it enough?

Eddy was too young to understand all that was about to happen, and though he missed the child, he had said good bye in a way that hopefully did not frighten him.

The car ride had been hard. The thing that helped him get through it was Grace’s story. As they exited Interstate 75 north of Knoxville and drove deep into the center of the state, she told him what her childhood had been like.

“We are a gift and an enigma, one of the oldest communities to settle here. We were a village that rose up together and came to the New World after the elders determined there was nothing left to be gained in Scotland. Eighteen families came to make a fresh start. They called their new home Woodside. They were devoutly faithful to Christ and the true and literal teachings of the Word of God. At some point, one of our priests began to speak of the Holy Spirit and the gifts given to everyone in the church. He told us that the Spirit wanted us to use these gifts in service to Him and each other, and he would show us how to recognize and develop them.”

“When was this?” he asked.

“Two hundred years ago. Ever since then, families have shown certain special abilities. Mostly, outsiders would never be able to tell that people had gifts above what was normal. My in-laws have the gift of hospitality, for instance. They run the hotel and other vacation properties. People who stay with them keep the memories of the most pleasant stay they can ever recall, though they can’t put their finger on exactly why. My parents were teachers.”

“And your gift isn’t so easy to hide. You can heal people—not just by practicing medicine.”