Angels Walking (31 page)

“I will.” She hung up and then closed her eyes. “Chuck! Please . . . come here!”

He was in the next room reading, but her tone must’ve told him something was very wrong. He was at her side immediately. “What is it?”

“It’s Mom. They’re taking her to the hospital. She . . . she might’ve had a heart attack.”

“Honey.” He hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

She rested her forehead against his. “I’ve dreaded this for so long.”

“We both have.”

Cheryl pictured her mother the last time they talked, sitting in her room a few nights ago. She had looked so happy and healthy. But at her age a heart attack could mean the end. Cheryl waited while Chuck grabbed the keys. “We need to go.”

“I’ll call the girls from the car.” Cheryl wasn’t sure how they made it to the car. The details seemed to blur as Chuck drove to the hospital. Both their daughters wanted to meet them there. The sad thing was everyone had planned to go to Merrill Place this afternoon. “Now we won’t have that time.” Cheryl blinked back tears. “It’s so sad. Mom would’ve loved it.”

“Maybe she’ll be awake.” Chuck kept hope alive with his tone. “We need to pray.” And with that Chuck spoke the most beautiful prayer, asking God to breathe life into Cheryl’s mother. “If her time is coming, Lord, please give us the chance to say good-bye. Thank You, Father. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Of course they should pray. Why hadn’t Cheryl thought of that?
God . . . forgive me. Go ahead of us. Please let her live. I want to say good-bye.
But before she could chastise herself any further, she thought of a thousand times when her mother had given her grace. Perfection was never expected. Peace worked its way through her, erasing her anxiety. Her mother was right.

They met one of their daughters in the hospital lobby and then quickly were led into a private room where a doctor came to them. “She’s definitely had a heart attack.” He looked deeply concerned. “She’s stable, but critical.” He hesitated. “We’re watching her closely.”

An hour later they were allowed back to her room, but she didn’t wake up until the next day.

“She’s ready to see you.” The doctor smiled at Cheryl. “Your brother’s already there.”

Cheryl caught the surprised look on her daughters’ faces. Tyler Ames must be here. “It’s okay. I’ll explain later. Let’s go back.”

When they reached her room, there he was, sitting at her mother’s side, holding her hand and talking to her. A baseball game played silently from the nearby television.

At the sound of the group at the door, Tyler looked up. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. He nodded at them and then turned his attention to Cheryl’s mother.

She looked frail and sickly, a decade older than she had just a few days ago. She turned to them and a smile lifted the weathered corners of her mouth. “Hello.” She barely motioned with her free hand. “Come in. Please.”

Thank You, God.
Relief flooded Cheryl’s heart.
Whatever else happens, at least we have this.
She led the group into the room and took her place next to Tyler. “We’re all here, Mother.”

“Yes.” She smiled at Tyler and then took in the entire group. “All of you.”

Tyler released the old woman’s hand and moved discreetly toward the wall so Cheryl could have his spot. She nodded at him, then took hold of her mother’s hands and tried not to cry. “How are you feeling?”

“Mixed.”

Cheryl felt Chuck’s hand on her shoulder. She was thankful for his support. “How do you mean, Mom?”

“Well.” Her chin quivered, her emotions gaining ground. “I’m so happy to have you all here. You and your brother. And
I’m glad we’re watching baseball together.” She glanced at the TV and then smiled at Tyler. “But I can hear Jesus calling me home.” Her eyes had never looked more lucid. “Your father’s there, you know.”

It was the first time in years she’d acknowledged their father’s death. Tears blurred Cheryl’s eyes as she nodded. “Yes. Daddy is there, waiting for you.”

Her mother’s smile was the sweetest thing ever, half sorrow, half joy beyond measure. “So you see”—she released a few weak coughs—“I’m mixed.”

“I understand.” Cheryl looked around the room. “The girls are here, Mom.”

“Yes.” She held out one hand toward them. “I see that. I’m so glad you could all come.”

One at a time each of the girls came closer, giving Cheryl’s mother the chance to acknowledge them and bid them good-bye. “But only for now,” she told them. “Good-bye for now.” She looked at Tyler, who remained as much out of the way as possible. “Heaven will be wonderful. Right, Ben? I feel you might know that more than the rest of us.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’ll be perfect.” Tyler looked out of place. Cheryl motioned for him to stay. It was okay. She wanted him to be here.
What sort of warm-hearted young man he must be to stay here like this, to care about a dying ninety-year-old woman. God, remember that miracle I asked you for? Please make it happen. His kind is rare.

“I want . . .” Cheryl’s mother tried to sit up a little, but the effort fell short. Winded, she tried again from her lying-down position. “Ben?”

“I’m here.” Tyler slid closer to Cheryl. “We’re all here.”

“Okay.” Peace settled over her. “There is one thing I want to say. Especially to you, Ben.”

He looked around at the others, an unspoken apology in his eyes. As if the last thing he wanted was to intrude on this private moment. Cheryl nodded in his direction, willing him to keep playing the part of Ben Hutcheson. Tyler nodded in return. He looked at Cheryl’s mother. “I’m listening.”

“I think about . . . our talks lately.” She smiled at Cheryl and Chuck and the others. “Ben comes by every day. He brings me flowers.” Her eyes turned to Ben again. “We’ve had the best talks.”

“We have.” Tyler looked at her, sincerity ringing in his voice.

“Ben’s shoulder is hurt and sometimes”—she looked straight at him—“sometimes you talk about your mistakes and your past like . . . like you think you need to be perfect.”

“Yes.” Tears filled Tyler’s eyes. “I wish that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

She shook her head, though the movement was miniscule. “You have to leave room for God’s grace, Ben.”

Cheryl silently mouthed the next words as her mother spoke them.

“Perfect is God’s job.” She released Cheryl’s hand and reached for Tyler’s. “You’ll live your life a lot happier if you stop trying to be perfect. Do your best for Jesus. When you fall short, He’ll carry you.” She smiled at the others. “The way He’s carrying me right now.”

Her eyes closed for a moment. Slowly she blinked them open. “I’m so tired.” She looked from Tyler to Cheryl. “Thank you. The two of you are the best kids I could’ve had.” Another couple slow blinks and she was asleep.

Cheryl stared at the TV. How her mother had loved baseball. Because Ben loved it. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see who was playing. It was the Dodgers. And the man on the pitcher’s mound was . . .

She smiled. It was Marcus Dillinger.

How long had it been since she’d watched him pitch?

After a few minutes the doctor came in and suggested they let her rest. Once the family and Tyler Ames were out in the hallway, the doctor allowed his expression to grow grim. “Your mother’s oxygen levels aren’t good. Her heart’s giving out.”

Cheryl leaned into Chuck. “Will she go back to Merrill Place? Are we talking weeks or months?”

“We’ll keep her here for now. And as for her time . . . no one can say.” He checked her chart. “Could be a few days or a few weeks.”

Cheryl nodded. “Thank you.” She held out her arms and her daughters and husband all came close. Cheryl motioned for Tyler to join them. “This is Tyler.” She looked at each of them. “I’ll explain about him later. For now I need to talk to Tyler alone.” A pair of empty chairs sat in the hallway outside her mother’s room. “I’ll meet the rest of you in the waiting room in a few minutes.”

Chuck studied her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I am.”

They hugged, Chuck’s eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. She’s not afraid.”

Before he left, Chuck shook Tyler’s good hand. “Thank you. Your time with Virginia . . . you’ll never know how much it’s meant to her. To all of us.” Cheryl smiled at the young man. He had even put the ball game on in her room.

“She’s a special lady.” Tyler clearly meant every word. When Chuck and the rest of the family left, Tyler turned to Cheryl. “I’ve been looking forward to this talk.” He glanced back at the hospital room. “I didn’t picture it like this.”

“None of us did.” She sat down and Tyler did the same. “She’s been so well since you came into her life.”

“I have so many questions. But I guess the biggest one is about Ben.” Tyler shook his head, bewildered. “Wherever he lives or whatever he does, he should be here.”

“You’re right.” Cheryl felt fresh tears in her eyes. “Ben loved our mother very much. If he could be here, he would.” She hesitated. “Tyler, Ben is dead. He was a soldier. He died in 1972, killed in Vietnam.”

The news seemed to take Tyler’s breath away. His head dropped and he stared at his hands. For several seconds he stayed that way before he looked at Cheryl. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“Ben wasn’t perfect, but he loved God . . . and he loved our family.” Cheryl barely noticed the tears on her cheeks. Her heart was back in 1970—the week before Ben left for Vietnam. “Love. That was his strong suit. He would bring my mother daisies every day. They grew wild in our backyard.” Cheryl pictured her brother, tall and strapping, thoughtful to a fault. “My mother loved those daisies.”

“She asked about them.” Tyler looked heartbroken. “That’s why I started bringing the flowers.”

“You’ve made her so happy.”

Tyler looked down again. “The loss must’ve just about killed her.”

“Yes.” Cheryl felt fresh tears in her eyes. “None of us were
ever the same after we got the news. My dad’s easy laugh, the sparkle in his eyes—they changed with Ben gone.” Cheryl stared straight ahead, falling into that long ago yesterday. “Ben and his men were trapped. If he’d waited, he might’ve been rescued. The others were.” The sorrow was as real as it had been back then. “But that wasn’t Ben’s way. He cared too much for everyone else. He set out to get help.” Cheryl looked straight at Tyler. “Two minutes later he was caught in the crossfire and killed.”

Tyler shook his head. He worked the muscles in his jaw. “So sad.”

“After Ben died, my father brought my mother fresh daisies every day. In honor of Ben. After Dad died, I tried to get over there and bring her daisies, but it wasn’t the same. She would talk about heaven—long before she was sick. With Ben there, she could hardly wait.”

“Then she lost her memory?” Tyler seemed to easily understand.

“Exactly. At first we kept photos at her bedside—the last one we had of Ben was one of her favorites. He was in uniform, so handsome.” She wiped her tears. “But eventually the pictures confused her. She couldn’t understand why Ben didn’t visit, why no one would let her see him.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, clearly touched by the story. “When I came to Merrill Place, her nurse said they had to keep her medicated.”

“She kept trying to escape.” The hurt of those times still felt fresh. “It was so sad. She just wanted to find Ben.” Cheryl brought her fingers to her face, struggling to compose herself. “Then you came into her life.”

“Your mother . . . she loves so completely.” Tyler stared at the closed door to her room. He looked at Cheryl again. “I definitely got the feeling Ben made some mistakes.”

“He did,” Cheryl could see her handsome brother again, his eyes full of life and adventure. “Crashed the family car into a tree. He never got an A in school, not once.” An image flashed in her mind, Ben’s face each semester when he brought his report card to her parents. “My dad wanted him to try harder. But Mom just told him he got an A-plus in the only thing that mattered—loving God and loving people.”

Tears shone in Tyler’s eyes. He nodded, stroking his chin. “Her words were intended for your brother, but they’ve helped me.” He wiped the back of his hand roughly across his cheek. “I’ve been trying to be perfect for a long time.”

Cheryl put her hand on his good one. “God works in miraculous ways. You were our answer to prayer.” She paused. “Maybe she was yours.”

Tyler thought for a second. “Did Ben play baseball?”

“He did.” Cheryl studied the young man. He looked so much like her brother. “He was very good. If he hadn’t been drafted, he might’ve had a shot at the pros.” She thought for a moment. “Have you figured out your surgery yet?”

“I’m saving for it.” He held his damaged arm closer to his body. “Sometime this spring. That’s my goal.”

Cheryl thought about this broken young man waiting until spring—six months or more—for his operation. He still wore the brace, and he moved carefully. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “But I’m off the pain medication. I can get through it.”

Again Cheryl wished she could help. But neither she nor
her mother had that sort of money. “Let’s pray it happens a whole lot sooner. There has to be a way.”

“Can’t hurt to pray.” Tyler looked at the floor, not quite confident.

“How about now.” She took hold of his left hand. “My mom taught me the importance of praying. I prayed she would find peace before God took her home. That was like asking for the Lord to part the Red Sea all over again.” Cheryl smiled through fresh tears. “But He did it. He brought us you. So let’s ask Him about your shoulder.” She closed her eyes. “Father, You are good. Above all things, You are the great I Am. There is nothing we can do to earn Your love. But You sent Jesus to rescue us, to give us the love and blessings we don’t deserve and cannot earn.”

As she prayed, Cheryl realized how much she sounded like her mother. The thought made her a little less sad. “So now, Lord, we lift up Tyler Ames. He needs surgery and he needs it now. He’s in pain and he needs to get back out on that baseball field. We have no idea how that might happen, but You know. Please, God, work out the details. Give Tyler a miracle so he can know for sure that You see him, You love him. In the powerful name of Jesus, amen.”