The Road to Mercy (20 page)

His throat now hurt from the constant shouting, but he kept it up.

“Bethany, where are you?” He drew out the words. “Hello . . . Bethany. Please answer me. I know you’re—”

“Josh, I’m here!”

It was Beth. But where?

“Where are you?” He called to her, looked frantically around, and listened.

“Next to the old fence.”

Buster barked, and he saw the little dog running toward him, shaking his nub of a tail. Josh grabbed him up and retraced the tracks he had left in the snow. Then he saw Beth curled up on the ground.

“Josh, honey.” Her cries were a mixture of tears and relief.

He released the terrier and ran to his wife’s side, wanting to grab her into his arms and hold her forever. He took her hand in his, trying to assist her in standing.

“No,” she said. “I can’t do it. My ankle is hurt, bad.”

Josh looked around to get his bearings. They weren’t far from the street behind them.

“Okay. I’ll have Alex bring the car.” He reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “Are you okay otherwise?”

“Cold,” she said. Her face looked taut from the abuse of the freezing wind and chilling temperatures.

He took off his jacket and covered her with it. Then he called Alex to explain where they were. “Drive my Jeep,” he said. “The keys are on the sofa table.”

A few minutes later, Alex found them. Josh picked Beth up and carried her to the car. He helped her into the back seat and lifted Buster up beside her.

Beth clutched his jacket closer to her body. “The heat feels good.”

Buster crawled closer to her and whined.

“You did a good job, Mr. B.” Josh patted the little dog on the head.

“Well, actually it’s his fault,” Beth said. “But I forgive him. He stayed with me when I fell.”

Josh put his arms around her shoulder. “I hope you can forgive me too.”

“For what?”

“For everything. I’ve been a jerk lately.”

Beth started to protest, but he stopped her.

“No. I want to say this now. I was so afraid I wouldn’t have the chance.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry for being so insensitive to you about the abortion. I’m glad you had the confidence in me to tell me about it. I’m just sorry I didn’t have the maturity to handle it. I hope you will forgive me.”

“Of course.” She reached out to touch his face with her hand and shivered.

“We’re going straight to the hospital,” Josh told Alex as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“No,” Beth protested.

“I’m sorry,” Josh insisted. “I’m not taking any chances. We’ll drop Alex and Buster off at the house on the way.”

Beth was the first to notice Ben Abrams as they wheeled her from the emergency room triage.

“Hi, doctor,” she said, embarrassed to see him.

“Baking cookies again, Bethany?”

She grinned. “No, sir. Chasing the dog this time.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Mind if I take a look at you for good measure?”

“Not at all.”

“We’re glad you’re here,” Josh said. “I was concerned she might have set herself back. You know, with her dissected artery.”

“It’s doubtful,” Dr. Abrams told him. “But you did the right thing, bringing her in.”

After a thorough exam, he pronounced his patient to be in excellent condition, considering her circumstances. “Don’t I see you again in the next few weeks?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Bethany nodded.

“Great. We’ll hope for a better scan this time.”

Beth wasn’t sure if she could carry it off, but she was determined to cook Josh’s favorite meal as a surprise for his thirtieth birthday. She had been banned from the kitchen since the green-apple fiasco, and she still walked with a slight limp from her sprained ankle a few weeks ago. But with a bit of advance assistance from Alex, she should be able to fry the meat and finish the rest of the meal on her own.

Cut-up pieces of chicken had been marinating in buttermilk since last night, just like Rose Harrison had taught Beth to do. Alex had peeled and cut up the potatoes and left them to soak in cold water in the refrigerator. Beth would cook and mash them this evening. That left only making biscuits, warming up corn, and stirring up gravy. Beth could stir up chicken gravy in her sleep. She had fixed it many times at her husband’s request.

This afternoon, Alex was helping Beth prepare one of Josh’s favorite desserts while he attended a meeting. His favorite Peanut Butter Pound Cake recipe had been passed down from his great-grandmother.

Alex shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe there are two sticks of butter in this recipe.”

“We don’t eat it every day.” Beth teased her health-conscious neighbor. “Although . . . it does make a great breakfast snack.”

Alex puckered her face.

“Wait until you see the recipe for chocolate sauce I serve with it.”

“Great. More fat and sugar.” Alex sighed and cracked a second egg into a mixing cup. “Can you make that on your own tonight?”

“I can if you will cut up the dark and milk chocolate bars for me.”

“No problem. That takes less time than rushing you to the ER.”

Beth mock-grimaced.

Alex placed the egg carton back in the fridge. “You’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

“I suppose I am. I have less pain. I think I’m acclimating to the medication too.”

“That’s good and bad news.”

“I know. I can only hope I’ll have the strength to get off this stuff when I’m healed.”

“You will,” Alex said. “You will. But it may take time.”

The look on Josh’s face when he learned Beth had cooked for him made her extra effort worthwhile. The meal turned out just as she had planned, and so did her choice of gifts.

She had known better than to spend a lot of money so she put extra thought into her selection. She had found just the right thing while shopping at a craft store with Alex.

“It’s great.” Josh admired the simple, wood plaque that read:
Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy
.

“You’ll be a perfect daddy,” she told him. “I know, because you’re a perfect husband.”

Josh shook his head. “Not sure I deserve that. I’ve let you down in the past few months. I hope I don’t do that again.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I just want you to be well.”

“We’ll get through this a day at a time,” Beth said. She placed her chin in her hand and looked into his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about your accounting problems on the road?”

Color drained from her husband’s cheeks. “I didn’t want to bother you with it. How did you find out?”

“Bob Bradford called to check on me this morning when you were out.”

“Did he tell you how much money is missing?”

“Yes. Almost $50,000. That’s a lot of money. What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Josh ran his fingers through his thick, brown hair.

“Didn’t you just hire that merchandise guy? Mitch something?”

“Mitch Raider. I’m not sure he’s the problem.”

“Who else could it be?”

Josh hesitated. “Ryan is his supervisor.”

“You don’t think—”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions. I need time to think it through. We’re working on a plan to get to the bottom of it.”

Josh’s cell phone interrupted their conversation. He appeared to be puzzled by the caller ID. “It’s Langston Wheeler from the record label.” He punched the
on
button.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Josh asked, fiddling with the napkin in his lap, a blank expression on his face.

Beth watched her husband talk. She’d forgotten how handsome he was.

“Good. We’re good. No, no problem. We’ve just finished supper.” Josh winked at her.

What a flirt
.

“The tour is going great.” He drummed his fingers on the table.

Beth remembered why she had fallen in love with him. Even now, she could lose herself in his thick, Southern accent. It was a drawl that put Kentucky boys to shame.

“Okay, give me the good news first.” Josh ran his fingers through his hair. “Really? No kidding? Man, that’s great!” He stood and then paced back and forth while chatting with the record label executive.

Beth readjusted her position, trying to get comfortable.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said, and then remembering how Langston had begun the conversation, he asked, “So what’s the bad news?”

A few seconds later, he laughed.

What a great laugh he had
.

“Seriously? That’s awesome.” Josh stared into her eyes in anticipation of sharing his news. “Okay. Thanks, man. Thanks!”

He punched the end-call button and took a deep breath. “I’ve been nominated for three Noah Awards.” A big smile spread across his face.

“Josh . . . that’s wonderful!” She jumped up and hugged his neck. “God is so good.”

“Yes. He is. Even to those of us who don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve it many times over.” She kissed him on the cheek. “You’ve worked hard, and you’re a good man. I’m
proud of you.” She settled back into her seat. “So what’s the bad news?”

He sighed. “Langston said I didn’t make the cut for female vocalist of the year.”

“That’s bad.” She laughed. “Ouch! The baby kicked me!”

“Really?”

“Here.” She placed his hand on her stomach.

He waited, staring into her eyes. “I feel it!”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too,” Josh bent toward her and placed his mouth on hers.

His kiss reassured her. All of the feelings she’d had on hold for the last few months returned. The fear and depression, the worries and the pain, now faded into the distant past.

She smiled, took him by the hand, and led him down the hallway to their bedroom.

The next day, Josh stared at the black and white tiles lining the hallway outside the CT scan room. The unlit “in use” light above the door reminded him of those that hung in a recording studio. While an important medical evaluation could never be compared to the process of recording, each had its own significance, as evidenced by the hundreds of letters he received each month from people who said their lives had been changed by his music.

While his work was far less critical than the doctor who would read Beth’s scan results, a special lyric in a time of need could soften a heart or soothe a soul. He had heard once that all music was of God, but some had been modified to exalt man. Something about that made sense to him, and he took pride in the kind of music he wrote and sang. He had done his
best to praise God with his tunes, with his life. Until recently, he had believed that he had succeeded.

A technician walked by, her sneakers screeching on freshly washed floors. It was just another workday for her. But it was a critical one for his wife. If Beth’s artery didn’t show improvement soon, she could be facing surgery.

Josh gazed down the long hallway that led to another part of the imaging facility. The tiles twisted around the corner, forming a new pattern where they shifted directions to places unknown.

The light over the scan room door began thumping. Off. On. The rhythm annoyed him. The simple pulse of it mocked his concern for what the machine might find.

About ten minutes later, the imaging room door opened and Beth walked out.