Brides of Alaska (32 page)

August turned ashen. “Which boy?”

Ralph leaned back and closed his eyes. “I think it was the older one, but I can't be sure. Can't picture him in my mind. You'd best go on down to the roadhouse and ask Mrs. Miller. She's been taking care of the place and the other boy.”

August was already on his feet. “I'll do that. I guess it might be a spell longer before I'll be ready to work after all,” August said as he made his way out.

“I kind of figured that,” Ralph called after him.

August took off at a full run for the roadhouse. He came up the path panting and out of breath, with an aching in his shoulder that hadn't been there that morning. He pounded on the front door and waited impatiently for someone to open up.

“Why, Mr. Eriksson,” Mrs. Miller stated in disbelief. “We thought you'd left for good.”

“I was injured in an accident and flown to Anchorage. I just returned not more than a half-hour ago, and Mr. Greening tells me that Gerald is sick.”

Mrs. Miller nodded, and her eyes turned misty. “Poor little boy,” she said in a hushed tone. “The doctor doesn't expect him to make it.”

“What?” August nearly yelled the word. “What in the world are you talking about? What's wrong with him?”

“Spinal meningitis,” Mrs. Miller said ominously. “Beth flew with him to the hospital in Fairbanks, but the doctor said he might already be too far gone. With meningitis, there's just no way of knowing.”

“What about Phillip?” August asked with dread.

“Oh, he's fine,” Mrs. Miller answered with a smile. “We've been baking since before light. He's asleep right now, but I could wake him if you like.”

August barely heard the words. He felt sick at the thought of Gerald dying and knew that it would be hard to see Phillip just then. He thought of Beth in Fairbanks, bearing alone the burden of her desperately ill child. “No, don't wake him. I've got to get to Beth,” he muttered.

“I know it'd mean the world to her,” Mrs. Miller said with a bit more composure. “She talked so often about you, wondering where you'd gone and if she'd ever see you again.”

August nodded. “I've thought a great deal about her, too. Being in a sickbed does that for you—gives you plenty of time to think about the things you wished you'd done differently.”

“I know she'll be needing you now,” Hazel replied, touching August at the elbow. “She cares a great deal about you.”

“I know,” August said, turning to leave.

Hazel called out after him, “Please let us know how Gerald is.”

“I'll do that. I only hope I'm not too late,” August called over his shoulder as he bid the older woman a hasty good-bye. “Tell Phillip that Daddy was here and that I'll see him real soon.”

“I will, Mr. Eriksson. I will,” Mrs. Miller called out and waved. She whispered a silent prayer for the man as he rounded the bend and disappeared from view.

God was with August as he hurried back to the airstrip. He managed to secure passage on a plane going to Fairbanks, and after their scenic flight and bumpy landing, August went in search of the hospital.

The Fairbanks hospital wasn't a stately affair, but it was efficient. August hastened to find a nurse who could direct him and then made his way to the room where she said he'd find Gerald and Bethany.

At least he's still alive
, August thought as he made his way down the corridor. Through the doorway of Gerald's room, August saw Beth.

She looked frighteningly small and helpless as she prayed at the bedside of her dying child. He could nearly hear her pleading words as she begged for the life of her son.

Hesitating on the threshold, August wondered how she'd react to his arrival. He glanced at Gerald's pale, nearly lifeless form and back again to the boy's mother. “Dear God,” August breathed, “please hear her prayers.”

August stepped forward. The noise caught Beth's attention. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of August.

“August,” she breathed the word.

Beth looked gaunt and drawn, but August thought her beautiful. He opened his arms, praying that she'd come to him.

Without hesitation, Beth got to her feet, crossed the room, and wearily fell into August's arms. “Oh August, I prayed you'd come. I prayed that God would find you and deliver you to me. Does that sound hopelessly selfish?” she questioned in a sob.

“He heard your prayers about that and then some,” August stated. “I've come back to you, but only because I came back to God first.”

Beth pulled back with tears streaming down her face. “Really? Oh August, that's the best possible news. Now if only …”

August cupped Beth's quivering chin in his hand. “If only Gerald would get well,” he answered for her.

“Yes,” Beth replied. “August, he's so sick, and Dr. Matthews doesn't know whether he can get well or not.”

“Is it meningitis as they feared?” August asked softly. He glanced over Beth's shoulders at Gerald.

“Yes,” Beth answered and reached up to take hold of the hand that held her. “They sent for an experimental drug from the States, but it hasn't seemed to help.”

“Well, we will have to pray together for him,” August said tenderly.

Beth closed her eyes and nodded. “I've prayed alone enough for both of us, but I know there's strength in numbers. I'm afraid this time we need all the help we can get.”

“Don't worry, Beth. You never have to be alone again. I've done a great deal of thinking and growing up as well. While I had nothing to do but lay in that hospital bed—”

“What?” Beth said pulling away from August. “You were in the hospital? But why? Are you all right?”

“Relax,” August said, pulling Beth back against him. “I was in an accident awhile back. It happened while I was grading the highway. The tractor fell over an embankment that had been weakened by rain. I'm fine now—just a little stiffness in my shoulder and a scar on my head.”

Beth's eyes searched for the red welt. She reached up a hand and pushed back August's hair to reveal the scar. “Oh August!” she exclaimed. “Does it hurt you still?”

“Not much. My collarbone was broken, and it still smarts a bit if I overdo, but really I'm fine. I just didn't want to send a letter to explain all that had happened. I wanted to wait until I could see you in person.”

“I thought you hated me and had left for good,” Beth blurted out honestly. “I felt so bad for sending you away.” She glanced back at Gerald. “The boys were just heartbroken.”

August nodded. “I knew they would be, and I hated myself for walking away. I knew I needed to listen, but I couldn't make myself turn around. What you said was exactly what I needed to hear. Of course, I couldn't see that until I was half-dead. Then, it was as if God had seen that simple methods wouldn't work with me, and He reached down with something I couldn't ignore.”

“He usually does,” Beth said with the slightest beginnings of a smile.

August acknowledged hers with a smile of his own. “God knew he was dealing with a particularly stubborn case. I'd run as far as I could, and when God couldn't pin me down any other way, I guess he used a tractor.” August's words were lighthearted in spite of his ordeal.

“I confessed my sins, knowing that the only thing real in my life was my relationship with God. I remembered when my mother had put me on her knee and explained that each of us needed a Savior. Some people seek one in a lifestyle or a job, she said. Others try to force people into that role, but what we need is Jesus.

“I remember even now how amazed I was that Jesus had come to earth to save my soul. It only took remembering that simple wonderment to make me take a more realistic look at what I'd done to myself. You were a brave woman to stand your ground with me, Beth.”

Moaning from the bed brought Beth and August to Gerald's side. “I'm not so brave,” Beth murmured, looking fearfully into August's eyes. August placed his hand against the boy's fiery brow, while Beth took his hand.

“I'm here, Gerry. Momma's here,” Beth whispered softly. Gerald calmed, opened his eyes, then closed them again. Beth began to cry softly. Exhausted by her vigil at Gerald's sickbed, she collapsed across the edge of the bed.

August came and lifted her to her feet. “Beth, come on. You have to rest.”

“No! I must stay with him,” she protested as August led her from the room. “He might wake up, and I don't want him to be afraid.”

“We'll just be down the hall. I'll tell the nurse to watch over him. She'll let us know if he wakes up,” August said firmly as he pulled Beth along.

Beth's protests only further weakened her. Finally, she gave up and allowed August to take her to the waiting room. August's strong arms offered her the strength that she'd prayed for. She breathed a prayer of thanks while August helped her to a chair.

“You wait right here, and I'll see if I can't get us a cup of coffee or something,” August said.

Beth nodded and watched as he walked to the nurses' station. How grateful she was for his direction and strength. She had been so afraid of never seeing him again, and now, just when God knew she needed August the most, he was at her side.

The aching in her heart refused to abate, however. The doctor had told her there was no hope for her son. No hope whatsoever.

Beth knew better than to give up hope. While there was life, God could work. But it was hard to maintain hope in the face of such devastation. How could she explain to a doctor she'd only met that this child had to live, that without him a part of her heart would be forever broken? He was a man of medicine, and his cold, scientific attitude left Bethany empty.

Her eyes misted at the thought of Gerald's suffering. He was so little and defenseless. He didn't deserve this sickness. Beth felt weak to the point of being sick. How much more could either of them take?

God had heard her prayers, Beth reminded herself. After all, August was here, and he'd renewed his faith in God. God had surely sent August to help her through Gerald's illness. Leaning back against the chair, Beth closed her eyes and tried to pray. She was so tired, so weary of fighting alone.

Within moments, sleep washed over her. August returned to find Beth eased back against the chair sound asleep, but she still wore the worried concern he'd noted when he first saw her at Gerald's bed.

“Give her peace, Father,” August prayed as he sat down beside her. “She's remained faithful and true, Lord. Please renew her strength.”

T
hroughout the long evening, August maintained his watchful guard over Bethany's sleeping form. He managed to find a blanket to cover her with and continued praying for both Beth and Gerry as she slept.

August watched the seemingly motionless hands on the clock. Nine, then ten o'clock dragged by, and still what sky he could see through the window showed streaks of light. The long summer night made it impossible to judge time.

Eleven, twelve, and finally one o'clock passed without word of Gerald's condition. August hesitated to ask for fear of waking Beth. She needed sleep more than anything else. He'd nearly decided to risk the disturbance when the nurse appeared with Gerald's doctor.

“I'm afraid I have bad news,” Dr. Matthews said as he stood before August.

Beth stirred at the sound of voices and sat up. “What is it?” she questioned.

“Your son is failing rapidly. I suggest you and your husband come say your good-byes,” the doctor replied. Neither Beth nor August sought to correct the mistaken reference to their relationship.

Beth began to cry, and August could only hold her close and stroke her head. He turned weary eyes to the doctor before asking, “Are you certain there is nothing else we can do?”

“I'm sorry,” Dr. Matthews answered. “It is never easy to tell parents that their child won't make it. Gerald has fought hard to get this far, but he's too weak and the disease is taking too great a toll. He won't make it through the night.”

“No, no,” Beth sobbed. “He must live. He mustn't die!”

“Mrs. Hogan, please don't do this to yourself. It is of no help to your son. He's beyond our care now, and nothing can be gained by making yourself sick over his passing.” The doctor's words seemed callous to Beth.

“You talk as though he were already dead,” Beth replied as she pushed August away and got to her feet.

“For all intents and purposes, Mrs. Hogan,” Dr. Matthews said without emotion, “he is. I can't do anything more for him. He's not responding to medicine, and his body is too spent to continue fighting. Let him go. You're a young, healthy woman, Mrs. Hogan. I'm certain you and your husband will have other children.”

“I want other children, Doctor,” Beth said with an undercurrent of anger to her voice. “But not to replace a dead child. I refuse to give up hope that God can deliver my baby from this illness. I have faith that He can work beyond your abilities.”