When Joy Came to Stay (23 page)

Another beat. “This isn’t making sense.”

His mind reeled, racing to understand the conversation. “What?”

Maggie’s mother inhaled sharply. “Why would she have told you that?” Her voice sounded tired, as though it were all too much for a woman her age. “Maggie didn’t study in Israel. She never spent a day outside the country.”

Ben’s head was spinning now.
Was this the lie? Why on earth would she have told me she was leaving the country if she wasn’t?

It was as though the foundations upon which he’d built his life were crumbling, as though he were scrambling to stay on solid ground….

He tried to swallow. He almost knew the answer to his next question before he asked it. “She was home the whole time, is that what you’re saying?”

Madeline Johnson exhaled slowly. “No.” The air eased out again. “Maybe this is the lie Maggie’s running from.”

Ben felt his head begin to spin. What was she talking about? “I’m listening.” His heart stopped while he waited for her to continue.

“It was right after Maggie moved out of that apartment, the one she was sharing with those girls from—”

“Wait a minute.” His heart thudded into a nervous rhythm.
Help me, God. What is this?
“What apartment? How come I didn’t know about this?” Ben’s insides felt like a ball of yarn that was free-falling, unraveling too fast to do anything but stand helplessly by and watch. How had they lived all their lives together and never discussed this? Why hadn’t it come up sometime at a gathering with her family?

“Well…she did, Ben. She lived in an apartment with two friends from college. Girls that were wilder than she; girls her father and I didn’t approve of. She dated John during that time.” She sounded almost angry and he wondered if it were because she didn’t want to be saying these things, didn’t want to think about it all…

As if she wanted to run from this as badly as he did.

“She and John broke things off sometime that fall. A few months later—early spring maybe—Maggie went to stay with some friends near Cincinnati.”

A wave of nausea washed over Ben. Cincinnati? Why there? And more important, why hadn’t she ever told him about it? “I…I didn’t know.”

“Her father and I thought it would be a good thing. Maggie was still broken up about you and that girl you were seeing. We wanted distance between her and John…” The woman paused, her implied accusation hitting its mark. “She was gone three months or so, I’m not sure. She came back the beginning of summer. About the same time you began calling again.”

Ben’s mind raced, and he tried to ignore the pounding in his temples, the tearing pain behind one eye…was he getting a migraine headache? “Did you see her during that time? Visit her?”

“We were busy, involved in the lay leadership of our church. Maggie’s father was very much in demand, and I spent much of my time helping him.”

Ben wanted to reach through the phone lines and shake her. They hadn’t seen Maggie
once
during that time? Not even one time? “Did you talk to her?”

“Of course.” Madeline Johnson snapped her answer. “We were in touch every week. She was living with her friend’s family and she seemed to be doing very well.” She sighed loudly. “Remember, she wouldn’t have been there at all if you hadn’t walked out on her the year before.”

Anger surged through Ben like volcanic lava. He forced it down beneath the service. “We can’t go back now. The only thing that matters anymore is Maggie, and whatever she went through that spring.”

Maggie’s mother seemed to concede that much because when she spoke again her voice was less defensive. “Are you thinking it’s possible…I mean, do you think it could be true?”

Ben closed his eyes and loosed the possibility that lay coiled like a deadly snake on the pathway of his mind. “Do I think she went to Cincinnati to have a baby?” Ben massaged his temples and blinked his eyes open once more. “I don’t know I can’t believe it, but…well, nothing’s adding up like it should.”

Madeline Johnson’s tone became lighter. “Wait a minute…” Ben could hear her rifling through something. “I may still have the phone number and address.”

Ben held his breath.
Help her find it, Lord. This may be our only chance to learn the truth.
“Here it is. Get a pencil.”

A pencil? That’s right, I’m supposed to be at work.
Ben felt a stab of pain as he yanked on a drawer in the bureau next to him and found a hospital pen. Writing on a scrap of paper from his wallet, he jotted down the number Madeline Johnson read off.

“Their names are Nancy and Dan Taylor. Of course, they might have changed the number or moved by now.”

Ben exhaled slowly and reminded himself to breathe. He thanked Maggie’s mother and promised to call if he learned anything. Then he hung up and tried to get a grip on his emotions.
He hated where this seemed to be going. After all, it wasn’t even possible. Maggie was a good girl from a strong family. The idea of her having her own apartment and dating John McFadden, possibly even sleeping with a man like that and getting pregnant, was as foreign as if he’d seen his wife’s face on the FBI’s most wanted list.

Maggie simply wasn’t that kind of girl. He wouldn’t have married her if she…

As I have loved you, so you must love…love covers a multitude of sins, My son.

The Lord’s words pierced the terrified place in his soul and he was engulfed by a different sort of anxiety.
Whose sins, Lord? What other lies has Maggie told?

There was no shout from heaven in response, but the feeling—and the command to love unconditionally—remained. I have
loved Maggie that way, Lord. I’m still in love with her.

But was he? Would he love her if her lies were as great as McFadden had said? Doubt, like the first pebble in a landslide, bounced down the rock wall of certainty in his mind.

Ben stared at the number he’d written and decided to call. He had to know if it was the same home, the same family who had once housed Maggie. He reached for the phone.

A mature-sounding woman answered on the third ring. “Yes, Taylors.”

Taylors.
That was the same name Madeline Johnson had given him. Nancy Taylor. “Yes, is Nancy or Stu there?” He threw the second name in to give himself an out. If it was the right number, he had no intention of having a conversation with them over the phone.

The woman sounded puzzled. “This is Nancy, but there’s no Stu here.”

Ben felt his heart thudding loudly in his chest. “Oh, never mind then. I must have the wrong number.”

He hung up the phone and stared at his battered body again, willing it to heal. The moment he was well enough to
walk out of the hospital and drive a car, he would set out for the place where he could find the next piece of the puzzle. Pieces he had not known existed…pieces that had been a part of Maggie all along.

Yes, he would go to Woodland, Ohio—just outside Cincinnati—to the home of Nancy and Dan Taylor.

What will you do if it’s true, Ben?

For a fraction of an instant, he thought about how he might spend the rest of his life if what John McFadden had said about Maggie were true. Alone. Or possibly remarried. Because lying in the hospital bed, wrapped in layers of bandages and uncertainty, Ben couldn’t imagine how their marriage might survive if McFadden had told the truth.

If the worst were true, then Maggie had kept crucial parts of her past from him for nearly eight years.

There’s no way.

A nurse entered the room and gave him additional pain medication. When she was gone, he slid back down on the bed and closed his eyes, much of his body still throbbing from the beating.

He thought about their wedding—a beautiful ceremony in her home church—and later how they’d danced for hours at the reception, then taken off for their honeymoon. The week in Mexico’s coastal Tenacatita Bay had been better than Ben had dared imagine. Maggie had been shy at first, tentative, very much the virgin, he thought. But in little time the two of them shared a bond that was only heightened by their physical intimacy.

McFadden’s claims were ludicrous.

He closed his eyes, begging God to make sense of Maggie’s struggles, to reveal what information might be missing from her past. Then he put all the questions about why she’d lied and gone to Cincinnati instead of Israel out of his mind, anchored himself to what he still believed to be true, and fell asleep.

T
HE MEETING BETWEEN
K
ATHY
G
ARRETT AND
D
R.
S
KYLER
W
ILSON
took place in a visiting lounge outside the girl’s hospital room. Normally it was the type of meeting that would be conducted with a child’s parents, but in this case Kathy was all the girl had.

In the days since Amanda had been beaten nearly to death, Kathy had visited the hospital each night, after her own children were fed and bathed. Now, with her husband at home putting them to bed, Kathy faced the doctor who had cared for Amanda.

“How is she? Really?”

Dr. Wilson wore a dark expression, his eyebrows knit together in concern. He flipped through the pages of Amanda’s medical file and then glanced at Kathy. “Physically? She’s healing. I don’t expect any permanent damage. But the rest…”

Kathy looked down at her hands and nodded. Amanda might heal from her beating, but she would never be the same again. Her eyes rose to meet the doctor’s once more. “Can she recover from it?”

“She’s a very troubled little girl, Mrs. Garrett.” Dr. Wilson sighed and opened the medical file. “Here. Take a look.”

Kathy reached for the file and her eyes scanned the page. The notations were frightening: “Withdrawn and anxious…Severely depressed…Possibly suicidal…This child has little will to live and talks incessantly about her mother.” Tears welled in Kathy’s eyes and she passed the file back to the doctor. “Her mother isn’t in the picture.”

Dr. Wilson clutched the file and tilted his head. “Is there any effort being made to find her?”

“No. Amanda was given up at birth, Doctor. Even if there were a way to find the mother, I’m sure she’s gone on with her life.”

“What about a foster family?”

A soft rush of air escaped from Kathy’s throat. “She was at a foster home when this happened.”

Dr. Wilson’s eyes narrowed and the muscles in his jaws flexed. “Are police pressing charges?”

“Oh, sure.” Kathy’s heart constricted at the mention of Mrs. Graystone. How had a woman like that slipped through the system and earned a license to provide foster care? Even if she spent the rest of her days in prison it wouldn’t make up for what she’d done. What had happened to this precious child was enough to make Kathy plead with the Lord for His immediate return. “The woman will serve time, but it doesn’t change what happened to Amanda.”

The doctor held her gaze a moment longer. “She asks about you, also. Nearly every day. Sometimes I’m not sure if it’s her mother she’s wanting or you.”

The tears that had been building spilled onto Kathy’s face. “I love her like one of my own, but we can’t take her. We have seven children, doctor. The state says any time she spends with us has to be temporary.”

The doctor sighed. “I hate these situations.” He glanced back at the open door to Amanda’s room. “She’s so…I don’t know, vulnerable, I guess. She needs a home. Isn’t there something the system can do?”

Kathy pulled a tissue from her purse and dried her tears. “I’ve been spending the past two years trying to answer that question. She’s slipping through the cracks, and there doesn’t seem to be anything any of us can do about it.”

He shook his head and opened Amanda’s file, discussing her physical injuries. Many of her bruises had begun to fade. Her young body was resilient and though she’d suffered a collapsed lung, three broken ribs, and multiple stitches from
the beating, Amanda would heal.

“I expect she can go home with you in a few days, if that’s all right.” The doctor stood and held out his hand to Kathy “Thank you for being here. It…well, I don’t know if she’d have made it without you.”

Kathy nodded. “Just give me a call. I’ll be here the moment she’s released.”

When the doctor was gone, she headed for Amanda’s room.

“Kathy! Hi!”

The girl’s face lit up and Kathy felt her heart lurch.
This is the girl who’s depressed? Suicidal?

If only they could buy a bigger house, build on an additional room.
I love her, Lord. Isn’t there anything I can do?
She stooped over the child and ran a hand along her small forehead. “Hi, honey. How’re you feeling?”

The light faded from her young eyes. “I might have to stay two more days.”

“Yeah…” Kathy wrinkled her nose. “But you have to get those ribs healed up.”

“I’m going home with you, right?” There was such hope in the child’s face. Kathy wanted to crawl in bed beside her, hold her close, and soothe away the pain like she would for her own children.
It isn’t right, Lord, that this little one should be all alone. Help her, Father. Give her a miracle.

That’s what it would take at this point. People were not looking to adopt seven-year-old girls—especially those who had been abused almost to the point of death. Children like Amanda were marked with the failings of the system, considered damaged goods marred permanently by the very government agency designed to help them.

The newspaper column, “Maggie’s Mind,” had certainly been a true assessment in this child’s case.

“Right, Kathy? I get to go home with you, right?” Amanda was waiting for an answer.

Kathy sat beside the girl, bent down, and gently kissed her
cheek, careful not to touch the area above her eye where the stitches remained. “For a little while, sweetie. We can take you in, but only until they find another foster family.”

The child sighed and a lonely teardrop meandered down her cheek. “Kathy, do you think maybe it will happen soon?”

Kathy cocked her head and studied the child. “What, honey?”

“My mom. Do you think she’ll find me soon? This year, maybe?”

“Oh, sweetie, I hope so.” A weight settled in around Kathy’s heart, and she leaned over, hugging Amanda.
God, please…hear her cries, Lord. I’m at the end of my abilities, Father.