The Other Side of Darkness (16 page)

“So even though Dennis and I are okay with our move to Albuquerque, we almost wish we could stick around and enjoy the changes here at VBF.” Then she reminds me it’s her last week at work, encouraging me to drop off my résumé at the clinic.

I tell her I will, but I’m pretty sure I won’t. I’m not like Colleen. And I’m certain I could never handle something like that. It’s too much responsibility for me. Not to mention the idea of being in a place where people come in sick. I can’t imagine how many germs I’d be exposed to, and all the hand washing it would take to stay clean and germ free would be a nightmare. And what if I made some terrible mistake? No … it’s a bad idea. And yet I know I need to bring some money into our household. I remember the promise I made to Rick.

I also remember the money I owe my mother. And as badly as I want to pay her back and be free of that weight that sits upon my shoulders, I don’t have the slightest idea how I will do it. How long does it take to earn five hundred dollars, anyway?

These thoughts are blasted from my head with the blaring of a horn behind me. I jump and then realize I’ve been stopped at the intersection and the light is green. Flustered, I pull into the intersection way too fast, and without even looking, I make my left-hand turn.

The next thing I know I hear a loud bang, and I’m thrown sideways toward the passenger seat, where I see a pickup that is far too close. So close it appears to be inside my minivan, pressing into the scrunched seat where Sarah had been sitting only thirty minutes ago.

I’m shaking and crying as a young man in a leather jacket helps me out of the minivan. “Are you okay, ma’am?” He guides me to the nearby sidewalk.

“I … I think so.”

“I’ll call for help.” He pulls a silver cell phone out of a pocket.

Another man is approaching us now, coming from the direction of the wreck. He looks really angry. “You pulled right out in front of me, lady!” he yells with his hands in the air. “There’s no way I could stop. What was I supposed to do? My truck’s paid for too, and I don’t have comprehensive insurance anymore. You
better
have good insurance!”

This man looks so furious, so evil, that I actually feel I’m in real danger. I cower next to the younger man talking on the phone, hoping he’s speaking to the police since I’m afraid I’m going to need some help.

“What’s wrong with you, lady?” The man is staring at me now. “Don’t tell me you don’t have no insurance?”

“No,” I say quickly, “I do have insurance. I’m just … just—” And then I really start to cry again.

“You’re scaring her,” says the young man, pausing on the phone. “Lighten up a little, will you?”

“That’s right,” says a woman about my age who has come over to join us. “Let her calm down before you start blasting her with all your insurance questions.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” I try to stop crying. “Just upset. And the man’s right. I did pull out in front of him. It’s all my fault.”

“That’s right!” he snaps. “You people are witnesses. You saw the whole thing. She pulled out right in front of me.”

The young man is still talking into his cell phone, telling someone what happened and the location. Before long we hear a siren, and soon the police and emergency vehicles are there, redirecting traffic and asking questions. The young man with the cell phone offers to call my home, and in the background I can hear him talking to Rick, saying, “Your wife has been in a wreck …”

I return to my scrunched vehicle and find my proof of insurance and other papers in the glove box and hand them to the police officer. I try to coherently answer his questions, but I’m not sure I’m making sense, even to myself. This feels like a bad dream, and I’m hoping I’ll wake up soon. Then Rick arrives in his pickup. I feel a mixture of relief and dread as he parks, then darts across the street toward me.

“Are you okay, Ruth?” He takes me in his arms.

Suddenly I feel like it’s going to be okay, and I lean into him and really cry. He strokes my hair as he talks to the policeman, answering more questions. And soon the tow trucks arrive to take the crumpled vehicles off to some place that Rick and the driver of the pickup must’ve previously agreed to.

“Is that it?” Rick says to the officer filling out the forms.

“That’s all we need for now,” he tells Rick. “Might as well be on your way.”

It feels so good to be in Rick’s pickup, to be away from the noise and the questions and the staring bystanders. I’ve never been in a wreck before, and after this I hope never to be in one again. I lean back into the seat and sigh deeply. “I’m so sorry. I’m not even sure
how
it happened.”

“Well, one of the witnesses said the guy behind you, the one blaring on his horn, is partly to blame. She said the light had just turned green and the horn must’ve startled you into moving too fast.”

“Really?”

“Not that it means you weren’t responsible. Taking a left-hand turn against oncoming traffic was a violation.”

“Did you check out the minivan?” I ask weakly. “Did it look pretty bad?”

“Well, the hood is dented, the grill and front bumper are all mashed, the right fender and passenger side door are completely smashed, and even the sliding door is pretty well mangled. I’m guessing the cost of fixing all that might be more than the minivan is actually worth. It’s probably totaled.”

I let out a groan. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re okay, Ruth. That was what really had me scared earlier. The guy who called didn’t say much, just that you’d been in a wreck and where it was. I didn’t know what to expect as I sped over to find you.”

“You sped?”

“Yeah, guess I’m lucky I didn’t get in a wreck too.” He laughs.

Now I’m rubbing my right wrist. It’s sore and starting to swell a little.

He glances over at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I might’ve banged my wrist on something when I got hit.”

“You’ll probably be sore all over by tomorrow. I remember the time I rolled my pickup back in high school. I thought I was just fine when it happened, but I could barely get out of bed the next day. Make sure you take some Advil when we get home.”

I rub the back of my neck, which is also starting to ache. Rick continues to chat in an almost cheerful way, and I think about how I really did marry a great guy, and I wonder why I don’t appreciate him more. How have we gotten so off track? so pulled apart? Is it possible to get back what we once had?

“You sure you don’t want to go to the doctor?” he asks as I slowly ease myself out of the pickup at home.

“I think it’s like you said, Rick. I’m just going to be pretty sore for a few days.”

He’s really kind and caring as he helps me into the house. Then he insists I lie down on the couch while he gets me some Advil.

I drift off to sleep for a while, but when I wake up, Rick is standing over me. “You sure you’ll be okay while I go to work?”

I sit up and nod, making my neck ache. “I’ll be fine.”

“I called Colleen and told her what happened. She’s going to bring the girls home for you after school.”

And for some reason this makes me tear up again.

“I could stay home,” he offers in a gentle tone. “Or maybe I should take you to see the doctor just to make sure you’re all right.”

“No, I’m fine. Really. Just still sort of shaken up. And I got sad when you mentioned Colleen. I was thinking of how I’m going to miss her when they move.”

He nods. “Okay then. I’m putting the cordless phone right
here on the coffee table. If you need anything, just call me at work, okay?”

“Thanks.” I force a smile. “I won’t need to. I’m fine.”

Mary and Sarah are both so sweetly concerned when Colleen drops them at home. Mary immediately goes into the kitchen and makes me a pot of my favorite tea. Sarah cuddles up with me on the couch.

“Looks like you’re in good hands.” Colleen frowns at her son Jacob as he chases poor Sadie through the living room. “Leave the dog alone!” she yells at him. Then she turns back to me. “Maybe we should get out of your hair. Give you some peace and quiet.”

“And you’ve probably got a lot to do with packing and everything.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“Thanks for bringing the girls home.”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Laura Fletcher is going to bring you dinner tonight.”

“She doesn’t need to—”

“She
wants
to, Ruth. She also said to make sure I invited you to come back to her Bible study group. I’m sure you’ve already heard that Cynthia has left the church and won’t be doing a study now.”

I don’t say anything to this. I’m not ready to tell her, or anyone for that matter, that I’ve left the church too. At least I
think
I have. Suddenly I’m not so sure. Not so sure about anything. It’s hard to think clearly right now. I wonder if I hit my head during the wreck, although I don’t feel any lumps or bumps. Perhaps my brain has been rattled. I know my spirit has been shaken.

I
pretend to be sleeping when Laura drops off dinner tonight. I listen from beneath my blanket on the couch as Mary graciously handles everything, even writing down Laura’s instructions for reheating the lasagna. Bless Mary. I think Laura is suitably impressed with the maturity of my older daughter. I know I am.

And when I finally do get up and go into the kitchen, Mary is already setting the table, and Sarah is filling our water glasses.

“How are you feeling, Mom?” Mary asks as I sit at the table and watch them.

“Better, I think. Just sore.”

“Is Matthew coming home for dinner?” Mary asks.

“No, he works late tonight.”

“He’s going to be rich,” says Sarah.

“He thinks he’s almost got enough money to put a down payment on a car.” Mary sets a green salad on the table. “I heard him telling Dad this weekend.”

“What’s going to happen to our car?” Sarah asks with a creased brow.

“I’m not sure. Dad said it might be totaled.”

“What’s that mean?” asks Sarah.

“It means we won’t get it back.” Mary sets the lasagna pan on the trivet on the table. “It’ll go to the junkyard.”

Sarah looks truly sad now.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We’ll get something else to drive.”

“But what about Samantha?” She looks close to tears.

I totally forgot about Sarah’s American Girl doll. Samantha is her favorite doll—the thing she takes everywhere, including the ride to and from school. She’d take her to class as well, but they don’t allow it.

“We’ll get Samantha back,” I assure her.

“Is she still in the car?”

“Yes. She’ll be safe there, Sarah.”

“Did she get hurt in the wreck?”

“I’m sure she’s just fine.”

Sarah still looks worried.

“I’ll have your dad get Samantha first thing tomorrow morning.”

“But she’ll be all alone all night long,” Sarah says sadly. “She’ll be scared in the dark all by herself.”

“You can pray for her, sweetie. Pray that the angels keep her safe.”

This seems to help a little. I bow my head and ask God to bless our food and to watch over Samantha in the car. Then we eat. We’re just finishing when the phone rings. Mary jumps up to get it, then hands it to me, covering the mouthpiece with her hand as she whispers, “It’s Cynthia Leman,” as if that’s a bad thing. I thank her and take the phone into the living room.

“I heard about your wreck,” Cynthia says with concern.

“How did you hear?”

“Carrie Epson called me. She ran into Laura Fletcher at the grocery store this afternoon. Apparently Laura was bringing you
a meal?”
She says this as if it’s a concern, as if there might be something wrong with the food.

“Yes, Laura did bring us dinner tonight.”

“I just thought that was a little odd …”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, we’d just assumed you were cutting all ties with VBF, Ruth.”

I think about this but don’t respond. I’m not even sure how to.

“Oh, we understand these things take time. And there are your girls and their school to consider. But we just hope you’re not abandoning us. We all feel that you’re an important part of this new body. Even Bronte mentioned how impressed she was with your spirit on Sunday.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, she and I would like to come by tomorrow. We want to see how you’re doing as well as to discuss some things with you in regard to the women’s ministry and the role we’d like you to play. Do you think you’re feeling up to visitors?”

I glance around my slightly messy living room. “I … uh … I guess so.”

“Great. What time works for you?”

“Maybe in the afternoon.” I hope Rick will be at work by then, and maybe I’ll be able to do some cleaning.

“Good. Shall we say two-ish?”

“That sounds fine.”

Mary is standing in the doorway, watching me as I finish my phone call.

“What did she want?” Mary asks in a slightly suspicious tone.

“She just wanted to be sure I was okay. She wants to visit me tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s my friend,” I tell her.

“You really like her?”