The Road to Mercy (22 page)

“Bethany, are you feeling better?”

She opened her eyes to see Dr. Myers standing beside her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was on call. You picked a good night.” Her doctor offered a reassuring smile.

Beth grabbed her doctor’s hand. “I’m scared.”

“Hey, relax, kiddo. This may not be so bad. Your bleeding appears to have stopped. I want to do a physical exam, and then we’ll run an ultrasound to check on the baby.”

About an hour later, after the exam, the doctor questioned Beth about her physical activities during the past twenty-four hours. She scribbled notes on her chart and then took a seat on the stool beside the bed.

“Your bleeding may very well be normal. A sizable number of women deal with it during their first or second trimester. I didn’t see any abnormal dilation, although I’m a bit concerned about the amount of blood you say you lost. I want to keep you in the hospital for a day or two as a precaution. However, if your ultrasound looks okay, there’s no reason you can’t go
home after that.” Dr. Myers gestured toward Alex. “Is this a friend?”

“Yes. Alex. She’s helping me while my husband is out of town.”

Alex nodded her acknowledgment.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the doctor said to her. “Will you be able to stay with Bethany for a few days? She’ll need bed rest for a while after returning home.”

“Absolutely. Whatever is needed.”

“Great.” Dr. Myers said in her always-upbeat manner. The she turned back to Beth. “So, when does your husband return?”

“Next Monday. Then he’ll be leaving again on Thursday.”

“I’m not sure how you two found time to make this baby,” Dr. Myers teased.

Beth blushed and grinned, while the other two women laughed.

The following afternoon, after an encouraging ultrasound report, Beth waited to be discharged. Alex had just arrived to take her home when Dr. Abrams walked into the room.

“Well, look who’s here. Do you have no other friends, or do you just like to visit us?”

The doctor startled Alex, who had been tending to Beth’s dinner tray when he entered the room. She turned and ran straight into him, spilling the contents of the Beth’s unfinished plate onto the doctor’s crisp white coat.

Alex’s face turned as red as the pickled beets Dr. Abrams now wore.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Alex said.

Dr. Abrams studied her for a few seconds and then grinned. “Bethany, please tell me this beautiful woman is not your caregiver. If so, I’m a bit worried about your life.”

He winked at Beth.

She smiled, enjoying a side of Dr. Abrams she had never seen. A much more human side.

Alex blushed again and shoved a lock of thick, red hair behind her ear.

Beth noticed that her doctor and her friend couldn’t stop staring at each other.

“Dr. Abrams, this is Alex Hayes. She’s my caregiver. And she’s very good at—”

“Ben Abrams. Nice to meet you.” The doctor extended his hand, ignoring the remainder of Beth’s comment.

Alex wiped her right hand on her jeans and reciprocated. “Likewise. But I’m sorry about the beets.” She grabbed a towel from the vanity to blot his jacket.

“I don’t think a towel, or water for that matter, will help this too much.” Ben Abrams blue eyes sparkled. “Don’t worry about it. I keep a change of clothes in my office.”

“Okay.” Alex gave Beth a sideways glance. “Would you please excuse me? I should probably step out of the room and let the two of you talk.” She offered another smile to Dr. Abrams before turning toward the exit.

“Miss—”

“Please, call me Alex. Short for Alexandra.”

“Alexandra. Lovely name.” The doctor paused to reach into his pocket. “Here’s my card.”

The freckles on Alex’s face danced when she took the card from him.

“Please call me if you have any questions about Bethany’s care.”

“I will.” Alex backed out of the room and closed the door behind her.

The doctor adjusted his coat and his composure, refocusing his attention on Beth and stepping closer to the bed. “So what brings you here?”

Beth sobered at the reminder of her situation. “Bleeding. I was afraid I was having a miscarriage.”

“Is everything okay now?”

“I think so. Dr. Myers says the baby is fine but that I need to be on bed rest for a week or two after I get home. Later today . . . I’m going home today.”

“How are your headaches?”

“They come and go. Maybe a bit better overall.”

“Don’t I have you scheduled for an office visit soon?”

“Yes, sir. It’s next week.”

“Great.” He smiled. “Call me if you need anything in the meantime. Okay?”

“I will. Thank you, Dr. Abrams.”

He placed his hand on her arm. “Feel better.”

Josh’s timing had been off all night. He couldn’t stop thinking about Beth’s hospitalization. It was impossible to shake the fear that his own selfish desires had contributed to his wife’s current situation—and just when things seemed to be going better.

Their time together had sparked the hope that life had returned to normal. Or would soon. But, with a new crisis at hand, the same nagging doubts plagued him. His baby’s life continued to hang in the balance, and Beth’s latest scan had shown no improvement.

He had to remind himself that whatever happened would be God’s will. Yet that phrase no longer comforted him. How strong did he have to be? How much did he have to be tested, to endure, before God moved in his favor? The spiritual struggles of Job came to mind. Unfortunately, so did his father’s failed attempt at reconciling his wife’s—Josh’s mother’s—death. The latter scared him the most. Would he follow in his father’s footsteps?

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he told the sold-out audience as he stepped up to the microphone. “God bless you all for being here. You are in for a special evening with R. O. S. and Fast Train to Glory coming up soon.”

The audience applauded. Their clapping echoed across the multithousand-square-feet building. A sound that used to stir him. He had once felt at home in this situation, but now he felt inadequate to minister.

He was tired, and he feared that neither his faith nor his music had the edge required to motivate others. He needed motivation of his own.

Although most people chose not to admit it, showmanship was as important in Christian music as it was in secular. What set them apart was the reason they performed.

All musicians shared a love for music. But secular acts went onstage each night for personal gratification. Christian musicians performed to draw attention to God. Or at least that was the way it should be.

By Josh’s standards, he had violated his own tenet for the past several months, and the very thought of that shamed him. He was not the person he professed to be on stage each night. The spotlight hid more than it revealed. The brightly colored lights masked the jester inside a costume of faith.

He longed for the days before life had become so complicated. But the show must go on, and he kicked into automatic gear.

“Let’s worship!” He shouted to the crowd. “He has come. . . .”

Thirty minutes later, Josh walked offstage.

“Good set.” Andrew Slaughter of R. O. S., an acronym for Rock of Salvation, slapped him on the shoulder.

“Right.”

“What’s wrong, man? You sounded great out there.”

“Thanks.” Josh knuckle tapped his fellow musician.

Maybe he was fooling everyone else, but he wasn’t fooling himself.

Ben Abrams secured his helmet and mounted his Lynskey titanium road bicycle. It was his second excursion since the arrival of his new, custom-made bike from the manufacturer in Chattanooga. The crisp March air reminded him of his childhood.

Even though he no longer raced, cycling had been a lifelong pastime. Riding on a road of glass allowed him to see through his problems in life. And, as he had always said, he could ride faster than his troubles could chase him.

This new bike was lightweight and lightning fast. He couldn’t have dreamed of such a high-performance ride when he was a boy growing up. Modern technology had changed the cycling experience. Of course, this bike had cost a thousandfold more than what he had paid for his first Schwinn Manta Ray. Thinking about it always reminded him of his grandmother.

His fingers stung beneath his leather riding gloves when he thought about those days. He’d come a long way in his life. He could only hope his family would have been proud.

But for now, he had little time to spare for such sentiment with afternoon office appointments beginning at one o’clock. He hopped on his mount and steered toward River Road, one of his favorite places to ride. The picturesque hills and curves that snaked for miles along the Cumberland River bottom would help free his mind and calm his spirit. The adrenaline rush from the workout would anesthetize the pain of his emptiness.

Alex pulled her yellow Volkswagen Beetle to a stop in front of Dr. Abrams’s office. “Are you sure you’re okay going in by yourself?”

“I’m fine.” Beth eased out of the car and steadied herself. Although shaky, she was determined to show some independence.

“I’ll meet you in the waiting room after I find a parking place,” Alex said before driving away.

Taking the elevator to the top floor of the building, Beth located the doctor’s office and stepped inside. After signing in, she took a seat in the corner of the waiting room.

Magazines were stacked neatly on the mahogany table next to her chair. She shuffled through the medical and horticultural periodicals. Odd combination. Nothing interested her except the one question burning on her mind. Would her scan show healing this time?

She focused on deep breaths to calm her anxiety and looked around the room. It reminded her of photos she had seen of handsome English libraries or exquisitely decorated bachelor dens. Sienna-colored carpet had been paired with sage-colored grass cloth above and below the mahogany chair rail. The muted tones blended tastefully with the brown leather
chairs scattered throughout the room. The understated decor reeked of masculinity with the exception of the extravagant tassels at the end of the gold rope, which restrained brown, gold, and sage paisley-patterned draperies. Beth smiled to herself as she pictured Dr. Abrams giving in to a decorator on that final point. Doctor meets decorator design.

“Bethany.” Dr. Abrams’s assistant, Rena, snapped Beth back to reality.

Rena was staid, yet pleasant, just like the nondescript surroundings of the doctor’s office. Judging from the casual ease with which she went about her duties, Beth guessed she had worked with Dr. Abrams for a number of years.

She wore burnt-orange trousers topped with a white lab coat. Her dark brown hair, which was swept back into a tight French twist, reminded Beth of a character from a vintage movie.

After doing a short physical exam, Rena led Beth to Dr. Abrams’s private office, where more mahogany furniture awaited.

“Dr. Abrams will be with you shortly,” the physician’s assistant said and then disappeared down the hall.

Beth settled into a wing chair, which sat opposite of the doctor’s massive desk. The room hadn’t changed since the last time she had been here with Josh. She noticed that the paisley draperies, like those from the foyer windows, hung sans rope and tassels. Apparently the doctor had set his limits.