Time for Grace (14 page)

A smile just seemed to bloom on her face and in her heart. “I don’t think I need them anymore. Your love is enough. And Lord, could you please, please wake Kip up to all he’s missing in life. Even if I’m not the person You’ve chosen for him, don’t let him waste the rest of his life. I hope I haven’t read You wrong and that you do want Kip and me for each other. But Your will be done, Lord. If I was only sent here to show him what he’s missing and to help him deal with his problem and then walk away—so be it. I just want what’s best for him.”

Sarah just sat there for a few minutes, humming the refrain again and absorbing the peace she’d been missing for so so long.

The rest of Sarah’s week was much less trying than the beginning. Her reconciliation with God made the continued silence from Kip a little easier to bear as did Grace’s continued improvement. But as the week ended and a new one began, she still hadn’t heard from him and she began to lose hope that she’d managed to change his mind.

Sarah prayed constantly for him anyway. She’d meant her prayer after talking with Jim. She wanted Kip happy more than she wanted him in her life. She’d already come to the decision that if he did refuse to act on his feelings for her, then she was going to have to make some more changes in her life. The longer the silence went on, the more it looked as if she’d be moving and looking for another job.

She couldn’t continue to rent an apartment over his sister’s garage because seeing each other would be too painful, and he could hardly be expected to give up visiting his sister’s home. She also refused to let Kip be the one to leave The Tabernacle. It had been his church first and he was more than just a member. He was an icon around there. It seemed only right for her to be the one to bow out.

She left for CHOP at the end of the school day on Tuesday as usual, her heart aching now that a week of silence had gone by since she’d last seen him. Her mind was so focused on her thoughts that she didn’t even notice the middle-aged couple sitting outside the NICU. She just breezed past them on her way to the scrub room.

“Sarah?” a tentative female voice called softly.

She froze then turned back to the bench where she and Kip had spent those awful hours the night Grace had nearly died. The night she’d have done nearly anything to hear that voice. Adam and Theresa Harris both stood and took a few steps forward.

Anger surged through Sarah before she even fully comprehended that they were really there but she beat it down. She’d forgiven them. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t shocked to see them. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

They both stopped several feet from her. “We came to apologize, Sarah. And to meet our granddaughter,” her father said.

She stared. They’d come to apologize. For which of a thousand offenses? She had her anger pretty much under control. They weren’t bad people. Just misguided and neglectful.

She took a moment to just look at them, a little bewildered by their presence. She had wanted this moment for so long but now that it was here she realized she didn’t even know them anymore.

She guessed they looked like any other middle-aged couple still living partially in the seventies. The hippie influence was still there in her mother’s long pinned-up hair, tie-dyed T-shirt and ruffled prairie skirt. Her father’s dark hair was a little grayer. He’d adopted the camp shirt safari style over the years. Neither of them had ever cared about appearances or their own creature comforts.

She really had forgiven them, she realized, but her forgiveness didn’t make them right or negate the need of an apology either.

“Apologize for what?” she asked. It struck her then what an odd family they were, standing ten feet apart when they hadn’t seen each other in over three years.

Her father, never particularly gregarious, looked at the floor. A blush had colored his cheeks when he looked back up. “All of it. Your young man wrote us. I had a nanny who called it tearing a strip off of someone. We never realized, Sarah. Truly.”

“My young man?” She’d heard of military letters going awry. She’d gotten one from Scott the day after his funeral. And, of course, she’d known he was furious about their suggestion that he donate the money to their mission that he’d offered for their airfare. Money she’d tried to tell him they didn’t need. But Scott didn’t tend to listen to anyone who got in the way of what he wanted. He wheedled. He cajoled. He charmed. She saw that now too.

“Scott wrote you before he died?”

“No. The letter was from Kip Webster. He said he was the Angel Flight pilot who flew you and Grace here to Philadelphia. He said you’d become friends, though he seemed to care more than just as a friend.”

Sarah felt a surge of love for Kip. He always went the extra mile. And once again he’d shown how much he cared. Not by word but by deed.

“Scott was angry about the wedding and I confess we didn’t understand his real objection,” her father went on.

“He seemed more angry over not getting us to cooperate and with the money issue. We were in a very precarious position at the time. If we’d left, we wouldn’t have gotten back in to the country. So…” he trailed off and shook his head. “That no longer matters except that we realize we should have been there. At your wedding. At his funeral. After Grace was born. Webster laid it out so that even we saw his point, emotionally blind though we seem to be.”

“I’m afraid neither of us thought about what it was we should have been doing where your feelings and emotions were concerned,” her mother added, taking another step forward. “We’ve been so wrapped up in the doing of the Lord’s work that we forgot about the lesson of Mary and Martha. We didn’t sit and listen to Him but busied ourselves with what we thought He wanted of us.”

“And Kip wrote you?”

“To set us straight,” her mother said.

“He did a good job,” her father added, grimacing. “We feel just awful that in all the striving to help others we somehow forgot the person He gave us to care for. I know it isn’t an excuse but our parents handed us off to others, too. Sending you off to boarding schools when having you with us wasn’t practical or safe…well…it seemed perfectly acceptable. We counted ourselves as being wonderful parents because we kept you with us for seven years and brought you along after that whenever it seemed safer. We patted ourselves on the backs because the schools we sent you to were based on biblical principles.”

Her mother wiped away a tear. “Except as Kip Webster pointed out, all the adventurous school-hopping didn’t broaden your horizons but kept you from having a stable environment. And he mentioned the holidays when the other children went home. You had no home to go to except the homes of teachers or other students whose parents agreed to give you a holiday. We’re so so very sorry, Sarah. We never meant for you to feel lonely and abandoned. We’re hoping we can find a way to make it all up to you.”

Sarah clutched her coat in front of her. “I’m not sure you can, Mother,” she said truthfully, though her mother’s tears touched her. “I forgive you. I forgave you after a long talk with my new pastor. He made me see that my anger at you had spilled over into my relationship with God. But I’m nearly thirty. It’s a little late. I’d like to try too but I’m not exactly sure where to begin.”

Theresa looked at Adam Harris, troubled.

“Suppose we just take it one step at a time,” her father said. “May we meet our granddaughter?”

Sarah nodded. She supposed Grace was as good a place to start as any. But her main concern now was her daughter. Her parents were forgiven for slighting Sarah herself but if they hurt Grace, that would be the end of any reconciliation. It would have nothing to do with anger or hatred but her own resolve to care for the child God had given her. Grace was her number one priority when she came to Philadelphia and she would be Sarah’s main concern from now on.

S
arah spoke to one of Grace’s nurses so that her parents could enter the NICU. Because they had come in directly from their flight from Africa they were asked to shower and were given a full set of scrubs to wear instead of just a sterile gown to go over their street clothes. The nurse taught Theresa and Adam how to scrub while Sarah went in and began to feed Grace.

“Oh, goodness, she’s so small,” her mother gasped when she came into the NICU just as Grace finished her miniature bottle. “And she’s so thin.”

Sarah gave a mental sigh. Her mother’s reaction didn’t have Kip’s nonchalance toward Grace’s appearance but she’d seen worse responses. “She’s more than doubled her weight, Mother,” Sarah replied, knowing she sounded defensive. To Sarah, Grace was the most beautiful child God had ever created.

Sarah smiled at a sudden revelation. She was blessed in an unusual way by Grace and her early birth. There was something very special and exciting about watching her baby develop in ways that most mothers never got to see. They had to wonder what was going on inside them, or try to decipher a grainy ultrasound. But Sarah got to see it all. Up close and tangible.

So while Grace had been more of a worry than the average child, she blessed Sarah with more memories and achievements to enjoy than the average baby would, as well. It didn’t completely counteract all the worry but it was a reward of sorts.

Sarah looked at her mother. She’d heard real fear in her voice when she’d spoken.
At least she really seems to care,
Sarah thought as her mother spoke again. “It’s just that I had pictured her looking like a newly delivered healthy baby—just smaller. If she’s doubled her weight why is she still so thin?”

“She doesn’t have the fat layer of a full-term baby,” Sarah explained. “They grow to their birth length, then they put on weight to round them out toward the end of the gestation period. Grace didn’t get the chance to do any of that. She’s remarkable not just because her birth weight was so low. Her gestation period was extremely short, too.”

Her father must have entered when neither of them noticed. He rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “She doesn’t look much different than many of the babies in famine regions, dear, and warmth isn’t usually a problem in our part of the world.”

“Is that why she wears the little hat?” her mother asked.

Sarah nodded. “Keeping her warm enough isn’t as hard as it was to keep her cool. Did Kip write you before or after Grace got sick?”

“After Grace was sick,” her father replied. “He got our mailing address from Dr. Prentice, so it got to us relatively quickly. In his letter he said you’d had no one to wait with you during Grace’s surgery or her illness but him.” There was regret in her father’s eyes and guilt. “How ill was she when she got sick? He only said it had been dangerous.”

Sarah once again fought back an angry response when she remembered those dark hours as Grace grew weaker and Sarah’s hope had begun to wane. But she couldn’t react in anger. How could she expect God to forgive her sins if she didn’t do the same for her parents? Jim hadn’t said it would be easy and it wasn’t. It was harder to forgive their neglect of Grace than it was the years they had neglected Sarah herself. Another sudden revelation came to Sarah. It was harder to forgive sins against your child than those committed against yourself. But she had to do it.

“She was very sick. She had pneumonia. We’d all about given up hope. It was the first time I felt really hopeless.” She went on to explain the drug and the chance she’d been forced to take by giving permission to use it.

“And there were no ill effects?” Adam asked.

Sarah shook her head. “It was a big risk but the Lord must have something He wants her to do here on earth. She’s doing fine now and all the tests on her liver and kidneys were good, too.”

“When Grace was ill, Kip Webster mentioned he’d been a while finding out. How long were you alone?” her mother asked. The guilt in her voice reminded Sarah of the guilt she’d carried and about Jim’s admonishment that once we confess our sin to God, guilt has no place in our lives.

“About fifteen or so hours but when Kip found out, he came right away.”

Tears once again entered her mother’s eyes as she pulled a chair up next to Sarah. “I’m so sorry we weren’t here. I feel so guilty just looking at her and seeing what you’ve had to deal with on top of losing her father.”

“We both do,” her father said. “And there’s guilt beyond the subject of our neglect of you and Grace. If I could turn back the clock, you’d be seven years old again and we’d leave Africa with you. Just driving here we saw that we could have found plenty of the Lord’s work to do in places that would have been safer for you. Sarah, your mother wasn’t sure sending you away to boarding schools was right until I convinced her you’d be better off.”

“I had a mouth, Adam,” her mother protested. “I let myself be talked into it because I knew she’d be in a Christian academy and because, frankly, I still wasn’t sure I was cut out to be a mother. In hindsight I think it’s a miracle you have any faith left at all in the God your father and I supposedly have been serving, Sarah.”

Sarah nodded and rubbed Grace’s back. “I have to admit I very nearly turned my back on God after Grace was born,” she told them truthfully, “but He put Grace and me in the right places and then He put the right people in our lives to stop that from happening. First Kip; then the pastor who’s also my boss, were able to help me put the past into perspective.”

Seeing a look of further distress pass between her parents, Sarah went on, “Look, I don’t want you to feel guilty about the past. Once I would have reveled in knowing you were wracked with guilt but I’d have been wrong. I forgave you. I forgive you now. And I hope I’ll keep forgiving you every time I’m reminded of a memory that hurts me. I know I’ll try.”

They both nodded and followed Sarah’s lead. They talked about the present and the future alone. They chatted quietly for a while longer, then each of them held the baby, marveling at the blond hair she’d gotten from Scott, and at how perfectly each of her tiny features had been formed.

Finally, as it approached nine, Sarah kissed Grace’s forehead and left her baby in the care of the nurses for another night. She couldn’t wait to have her home in her crib where the precious doll Kip had given her waited.

Her parents had intended to stay in the hotel across from CHOP but Sarah thought they needed time together. She talked them into staying at her apartment where she would sleep on the sofa and give them her bed.

She pulled into her parking spot in front of the carriage house and got out of the car. “This is home. I live over the garage. It started life as a carriage house. Kip’s sister lives there,” she said pointing at Miriam’s house just as the redheaded tornado tore out her back door. “Miriam, I’d like you to meet my parents,” Sarah called out.

Miriam spun around and stopped dead in her tracks. “Sarah! Oh, Sarah! Thank God you’re here.”

Miriam’s distress sent fear spiraling through Sarah. “What’s wrong?”

“Kip’s secretary just called. He’s in trouble.”

Kip tried the landing gear one more time. The warning light stayed on. The gear hadn’t locked. “Valley Green Tower, this is AA—8493 again. That is once again a negative on gear lock. I repeat that is a negative.”

“Kip, it’s Joy.”

“Hey, partner,” he said into the mouthpiece of his radio. “I’m afraid today may be my day to bend up the equipment a little.” He tried to sound relaxed for the sake of his four passengers, but it was incredibly soothing to his fraying nerves to hear her familiar voice at that moment. The only voice he’d rather hear was Sarah’s but he wouldn’t want her to be as worried as he was.

“That’s what insurance is all about, Kip,” Joy said.

“Just so you don’t bend you or your passengers. I’ve talked this over with our ground crew and the crews from a few other airlines. We have two ways to handle this. Can you divert to Wilmington or Philly International?”

Could he? He looked at his fuel gauge and did a quick calculation on his fuel, the wind speed and his air time. “It’s a possibility. Close, but I’m not sure either is doable. It’d only work if the landing gear will come back up. The drag of the gear is using up fuel and fast.”

He tried to retract it. Waited. Nothing. “That’s a negative. Gear will not retract either. Give me a minute. Let’s see if I can manually get it back up or force it to lock.”

He flicked on the auto pilot and rushed to the panel in the floor just outside the cockpit where the hand crank was located above the front wheel. He tied a rope around his waist then around one of the passenger seat bases. Air rushed into the compartment when he popped open the access panel.

The twinkling lights of the houses below caught his attention. They were dizzying and beautiful at once as they rushed by below. He looked away and ripped the hand crank out of its bracket and fitted it into the gear assembly. Bracing himself, he tried to turn it but it was a no go. One of the passengers must have realized he couldn’t budge it alone. He climbed into the compartment across from him.

“You should be tied off,” Kip argued.

“Next time. Let’s get this done.”

Muscles bulging and straining with the effort, the two of them didn’t move the crank even a fraction of an inch in either direction. Kip pretty quickly realized that something was just plain broken in the assembly. He shook his head and motioned the guy out of the compartment.

“What now?” the man asked as Kip replaced the cover and locked it back down.

All four men were staring at him expectantly. Hopefully. He didn’t have much of an answer. “Now I figure out a way to get us down safely.” He clapped the guy on the shoulder. “Thanks for trying. You could all pray. Get right with the Lord and ask His help. I can use all the guidance from above I can get right now.”

He rushed forward and got back behind the yoke. “Valley Green Tower, this is AA-8493. That is a no go on Wilmington or Philly. The landing gear will
not
retract.”

“Kip. It’s still Joy here. You can’t divert?”

“It’s too close, partner. This drag could leave me short of the runway. There’s just too much housing between here and both of them. It’s too great a risk for people on the ground and us up here. And I’d rather go with a dry landing with no foam here where I’m at least sure I have a runway. I-95 is too crowded to use at this time of night if I come up short,” he said flippantly. It was pilot humor at its worst but he wasn’t feeling too jovial.

Not surprisingly neither was Joy. “It’ll be okay, Kip. The gear may be fine. It could be locked and the warning light is the only error,” Joy said encouragingly.

“Or not,” he responded.

“Anything I can do besides pray?” she asked.

“You could tell that foam truck to step on it and spread it thick. I’ll be on fumes by then.” And fumes could be more dangerous than a loaded fuel tank. You just never knew.

“Already done,” came Joy’s clipped reply. “We’re praying, partner.”

“I guess I’d better get on that myself. And, in the meantime, I’ll just be up here…circling.”

When his radio went silent, prayer and eternity weren’t what popped into his mind. His eternity had been assured since age ten when he answered an altar call at vacation Bible school. What burst into his mind now was his wasted life.

Here he was, possibly minutes from pancaking onto the airfield, and all he could think about was Sarah the last time he’d seen her.

She’d been so furious with him, and so hurt. But mad as she’d been, she’d still been fighting for the life she knew they could have together.

A life he’d denied her. Refused to take a chance on.

It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. He’d been so worried about dying in eight years, he’d never even thought about checking out sooner. Even after she’d mentioned the possibility that an accident could take her first, he’d been so wrapped up in the scenario he’d constructed surrounding his own death that he hadn’t really thought about what she’d been saying. What she’d meant.

Anyone could go home to be with the Lord at any time.

Life held no guarantees. God was in control, not man.

Not him.

Kip banked into another turn, once again heading back toward Valley Green Field. He checked the fuel gauge and grimaced. It was going fast.

Just like his life had. There was an awful lot of living he hadn’t done.

His radio squawked. The tower just checking to make sure he was still there. “Circling. Trying not to run out of fuel before you’re ready.” He assured them he was on another approach and signed off again, wishing the voice had been someone he knew well. Someone who really knew him.

But there weren’t very many of those. He thought of all the people whose lives he’d touched. He knew the reason he’d always felt he was on the outside looking in at their lives. He’d never allowed most of them to touch him—not really. He’d always thought he was trying to protect them from grieving his loss too deeply.

But it hadn’t been that at all.

He did things for others all the time but he never let anyone do anything for him in return. He hadn’t even wanted their thanks. It hadn’t been pride on his part, thank God. But it certainly wasn’t that he’d been overly gallant either. He’d always thought their gratitude embarrassed him and that it was a question of it being his honor to serve.