The Road to Mercy (33 page)

No need to linger. The air was stale, and he walked through knee-deep piles of trash. Cereal boxes, kitchen utensils, and electronic equipment—the remains of their comfortable life on the road—were strewn across the carpet.

The bunkroom door, which had been ratcheted partially open, stood guard over the inner sanctum of the bus. Josh raised his light high above his head, providing a better view of the unlit hallway ahead. Bed linens and personal belongings were scattered across the floor. The late day sunlight filtering through the back lounge windows created an eerie glow at the end of the long, dark corridor.

He focused the flashlight beam on the ceiling and caught his breath when he saw a three-foot tear in the metal. Something must have ripped through the roof when the bus rolled down the hillside.

He tripped on a tangled mess of linens, and had to steady himself against the closet wall, before continuing toward the last row of bunks. Danny’s bed was in the last row on the right, just below Ryan’s.

Kneeling on the floor beside the bunk, Josh held the flashlight with his left hand and looked around for items of importance. Remarkably, some things still remained on the shelf above the bed. A disposable camera, a pack of gum, and a Bible. He fought back a tear as he reached for the Bible. It was the kind of thing he was hoping to find, to save for his friend. For when he recovered.

Josh placed the Bible into his bag and continued to peruse the area. Brightly colored postcards from cities they had visited on their tour lined the wall and ceiling of the small compartment. Nothing that couldn’t be replaced. He shuffled through the disheveled bed linens and found a few CDs and Danny’s toiletry bag. Except for his hanging clothes, that was probably everything. Josh stuffed it all into the bag.

He started to stand to leave and then remembered that some of the guys stored books, photos, and even cash underneath their mattresses. He’d better take the time to make sure nothing important remained. The bus would be heading to the salvage yard any day.

He switched the flashlight to his right hand, using his left to hoist the mattress, and began searching at the front, working his way to the foot of the bed. Nothing.

Wait. There was something lying in the far corner
.

Josh stretched with his entire body, lowering his head and holding the mattress up with his shoulder. He grabbed the object with his thumb and forefinger and pulled. It appeared to be a canvas bag. He placed it into his large bag and let the mattress fall back onto its platform.

On his way back through the bus, Josh opened Danny’s closet. He gathered loose items from the closet floor and tossed them into his bag. Then he grabbed the few hangers full of clothing, folded them over his arm, and made his way to the front of the bus and outside.

The cool evening air refreshed him.

Beth, who had been standing nearby, reached for the bag, freeing up his hands to carry the hanging clothes to the Jeep. He hung them on the clothing hook inside his rear passenger compartment.

“Is that everything?” Beth asked.

“All I could find for Danny,” he said, grabbing an empty bag from the backseat of the SUV. “I’ll be back after I gather my own things.”

Beth still held the sack containing Danny’s personal items.

“You need to rest,” Josh said, opening the front passenger door for his wife. She climbed inside, placing the bag on the floorboard in front of her, and he slammed the door.

It didn’t take him long to clean out his bunk and closet, and to go through the drawers in the back lounge. Soon they were on their way home.

“How bad was it?” Beth asked.

“Awful. But thank God it held together enough to keep us alive.”

“Did you lose anything important?”

“Nothing we can’t replace,” he told her, stretching his arm across the console and resting his hand on hers. “I’ve got you. That’s all that matters.”

She smiled.

“Why don’t you look through Danny’s things and see if there’s anything we need to take to the hospital for him. His dad might want to hold on to the Bible I found. It’s at the bottom.”

Beth leaned forward and rifled through the sack. “What’s in the canvas bag?”

“I don’t know. Open it,” he said.

She unzipped the red bag and looked inside. “Josh . . .”

“What, honey?”

“It’s filled with cash, small bills.” Her voice was shaking. “There must be twenty thousand dollars in here.”

Josh slowed the Jeep and pulled to the side of the road.

“Could that be the missing merchandise money?” He mumbled, almost to himself.
Was it possible he had been wrong about Danny? Could Ryan have been telling the truth?

The halls of the hospital were silent, except for the low rumble of a surgical cart rolling along the corridor toward them. Josh paced back and forth while Beth hovered in the corner near the entrance to the neurological intensive care unit.

Danny would soon be taken into surgery, and Josh wanted to let his friend know he was pulling for him. Innocent or guilty of stealing merchandise money, his driver’s life hung in the balance. Josh would not let him down now.

Jim Stevens had been sitting at his son’s bedside since he had been transported to Davidson County Medical Center forty-eight hours ago. The older man appeared even older today, beaten down from grief and worry. He’d lost his wife, and he could now lose his son.

A few months ago this turn of events might have completely destroyed Josh’s faith, but much had happened since that time. His own near-death experience. Beth’s incredible break from drug addiction. And the lingering reminder from Danny that God directed our lives and stood by his promises.

With a loud pop, the twin metal doors of the ICU opened, and the two surgical attendants, dressed in green, wheeled the rolling cart inside.

“It won’t be long,” Josh said to Beth, who had finally taken a seat on the marble ledge of the nearby windows.

Six floors below them, cars and pedestrians went about their normal activities. Sunlight streamed into the hallway, a surreal contradiction to what was going on inside.

“Are you okay there?” he asked Beth.

“I’m fine. We’ll be sitting in uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room soon enough.”

“For quite a while, I’m afraid.” The doctor had predicted an eight- to ten-hour surgery. “Maybe I should take you home after this. There’s no need for you to stay.”

“I want to be with you,” Beth told him. “I almost lost you. I don’t want to ever be without you again.”

Moisture filled Josh’s eyes for the second time today. God had given him much to appreciate.

A few minutes later, the ICU doors opened, and Danny’s bed rolled into the hallway. Jim Stevens walked beside him. When he saw Josh and Beth, he motioned for them to step closer.

“I know you want to see him,” he said. He backed away so Josh could approach the bed.

Josh nodded and grabbed Beth’s hand, leading her with him to the head of the cart.

“I know you can hear me, man, even though you can’t talk right now.” He leaned closer to Danny’s ear and spoke distinctly. “Beth and I want you to know we’re here with your daddy. We’ll take care of him while you’re in surgery.” Josh cleared his throat. “The doctors will take good care of you. We’ll see you in the recovery room.”

Josh fought back tears. He reached across the bedrail to lay his hand on top of Danny’s, careful not to disturb the monitor wires and tubes, which ran every which way. He caught the attention of the technician standing nearby. “Do we have time to say a quick prayer?”

The man nodded.

Beth reached for Jim Stevens’s hand and took it in her own. Then she offered her free hand to Josh. He took it and began to pray. “Dear Lord, we ask you to guide the doctor’s hands, to give him strength and wisdom, so he can do his best for our friend Danny. We pray, Lord, that you would work through these doctors and nurses and heal his wounds, the trauma to his head. We love Danny, Lord, and we love you. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.”

“Thank you,” Jim Stevens said, backing away.

“We’ll see you in the waiting room,” Josh nodded.

The technicians motioned for Danny’s father to stay with them as they prepared to roll the bed down the hallway. “You can stay with us to just outside the surgical suite, sir,” one of them said.

Josh watched the old man, walking bent and tired, and following his son’s gurney down the corridor. At the end, they disappeared into the elevator.

Ben Abrams had prepared all of his life for this moment. He had long entreated God for an epiphany. For the certainty that he existed, and the assurance that he could have a relationship with him.

“Help me, God.” He prayed silently over his patient, whose chances of surviving surgery—much less of a complete recovery—were in the low percentages.

“Give me the ability to save the unsavable,” Ben pleaded. “I’ll consider it a sign that you can also save me.”

With that humble request, he picked up the scalpel and made his initial incision into Danny Stevens’s shaved head.

Waiting wasn’t easy. Josh occupied his time in the surgical waiting area by reading well-worn magazines, mindlessly staring at the soap operas playing out on a muted television, and praying.

Lots of praying.

Beth appeared to be resting comfortably. She had dozed off in a leather recliner next to him. That in itself helped him rest.

Jim Stevens occasionally walked the floor and made phone calls to his daughter in Florida, to keep her informed and to give himself the strength to deal with the possibility of losing his only son.

Four hours into the operation, a surgical nurse called to report that things were going as expected. Jim Stevens seemed to be buoyed by the news. However, Josh wasn’t sure how much consolation could be read into that statement. She had also said the surgery would last another five hours, maybe more.

At one point, Josh walked to the cafeteria to bring back cold sandwiches and drinks for everyone. It had provided a nice break for him, and otherwise Mr. Stevens would have gone all
day eating from the vending machine. He appeared to appreciate all of Josh’s help, thanking him over and over again.

He knew Mr. Stevens had no idea about the money Josh had found in his son’s bunk. If time proved Danny was the thief, it would break his father’s heart. Josh vowed to himself never to mention it to Mr. Stevens if something happened to Danny. There was no need to bring more misery on this faithful, old man. He had been a pillar of strength and edification to his congregation, and to his family, for years.

But what would he do if Danny fully recovered and he learned his driver, his friend, had been stealing? Josh shifted in his seat. It was a problem he must confront when the time came. If that time came.

He glanced at the clock on the waiting room wall. They had three hours to go before they knew Danny’s prognosis.

In the meantime, Josh would continue to ferret out the facts, as he knew them. There had to be a reasonable explanation for the twenty thousand dollars in Danny’s bunk.

At two thirty, Ryan Majors walked through the waiting room door. He had a solemn expression on his face. His left arm was bandaged and hung in a sling from his shoulders. His usually robust road manager appeared gaunt and haggard, although he was still dressed to the nines.

Ryan nodded to Josh as he approached, but he reached first for Jim Stevens’s hand. “I’m sorry to hear about Danny, sir,” he said. “He is a fine man. I pray that God will be with you both through this.”

“Thank you, son. And you are?”

“I’m Ryan Majors. I work with Danny . . . and Josh.” He nodded toward Josh.

“I will tell Danny you came by. Were you in the wreck?” Mr. Stevens asked, noticing Ryan’s arm.

“Yes, but this is nothing compared to your son’s injuries. I’m sure he put up a good fight for all of us against the wind that night. According to the police report, we went head-to-head with a tornado.”

Josh studied Ryan as he spoke and thought he noticed a tear in his eye.

After a few more words with Jim Stevens, Ryan turned to Josh. “May I see you outside for a minute?”

“Of course.” Josh stood to follow him.

After they turned the corner and found a quiet place in the back hallway, Ryan made a request. “Please let me talk for a few minutes without interruption. I have some things I need to get out.”

Josh nodded, running his hand through his hair and wondering what could be so important.

“Danny is an innocent man. If anything should happen, I never want you to doubt that.” Ryan stared straight into Josh’s eyes, not blinking.

Josh bit his lip while contemplating the statement. There was much he could say, but he held back.

Ryan averted his eyes to the floor and continued. “I know he’s innocent because I am the one who took the money.” Ryan shifted from one foot to the other. “I, alone, am to blame. Not Mitch, not Danny. No one but me.”

“I appreciate—”

“No. Please, let me finish.” Ryan held up his hand, looking directly at Josh.

Josh could see both fear and sadness in Ryan’s eyes. His face was drawn and vulnerable.