A Time to Dance by Karen Kingsbury
Even the subtlest movement now was like a sign from God that no matter what else might happen, John was going to live.
Another moan escaped his throat and his lips moved. A nurse entered the room and saw what was happening. “Move back. Please. He can’t be too stimulated right now, not while he’s intubated.”
She checked his monitors and brought her head near his face. “John, we need you to stay very still. Can you understand me?”
Again his head moved up and down, no more than half an inch in either direction, but enough to show that he’d heard the nurse. Abby’s heart soared. She was right all along. He was going to be fine. They merely had to help him get past his injuries, and then everything would be okay.
The nurse held her hand behind her, indicating that the rest of them needed to keep their distance until she was finished with him. “Are you in pain, John?”
This time he moved his head side to side. Once more the motion was barely detectable, but it was there all the same.
“John, you’ve been in an accident. Do you know that?”
His head was still. From where Abby stood, she could see him working his eyes again, struggling to make them open. Finally, almost painfully, the lids lifted and he squinted. At almost the same time his arms twitched, and he brought one hand toward his throat.
There! See? Abby wanted to shout. He could move! If he could lift his hands, then he wasn’t paralyzed, right? She blinked, and her heart sank. Even if he wasn’t paralyzed, he must feel miserable. Tubing stuck down his throat, his head and neck stuck in a brace, unable to speak. John hated having his temperature taken, let alone this. Before he could pull out the lines, the nurse caught his hand and returned it to his side. “I need you to leave your throat alone, John. You’ve had an injury and we need to keep the tubes in place. Do you understand?”
The nurse’s voice was loud and measured, as though he were a dimwitted child. Kade glared at the nurse from his spot against the wall, but Abby was glad for her directness. Otherwise her husband might do something to harm himself, and they couldn’t have that.
“Do you understand, John? You mustn’t make any sudden movements and don’t try to remove your tubing. None of it. Okay?”
John blinked, and his eyes opened a bit wider. For the first time, it looked like he could see. He met the nurse’s gaze and gave a more definite nod. Then, without waiting for the nurse to speak again, John turned his head and, using mainly his eyes, found each of them around the room. First Kade, then Sean, Nicole, and Matt. And finally Abby.
She had no idea what the kids read in John’s searching eyes, but what she saw said more than any words could. His eyes told her to hang in there, that he was okay, and everything was going to be fine. But there was something else there, too. A love so deep and strong and true it couldn’t have been put into words even if John could speak.
The nurse took a step backward. “I’m going to let your family visit with you for a few minutes, John, but after that you have to sleep. You must lie very still. We’re working as hard as we can to get you better.”
She didn’t ask him about his legs, whether he could move them or feel them. Was that because the staff no longer thought he had a problem? Or because there was no point giving him that type of emotional jolt moments after he’d regained consciousness? Abby tried not to think about it.
Instead she made her way closer to the bed, her eyes still locked on his. Don’t lose it, Abby; don’t let him see your tears. Not now. She held her breath and urged the corners of her lips up, where they belonged. “John . . .”
He lifted his fingers off the hospital sheet, and she took them in her own. He couldn’t speak, but he squeezed her fingers. Abby refused to notice the way his feet and legs still had not moved.
She let out a small bit of air, caught a quick half breath, and held it again. It was the only way to keep from sobbing. “God is so good to us, John. You’re going to be just fine.”
His expression changed, and she knew instinctively what was going through his mind. What had happened? Who had hit him? Where was the other driver and was he okay? Abby knew few details herself, so she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what happened. It wasn’t your fault, John. The important thing is you’re awake and you’re here with us now. You’re getting the very best possible care, okay?”
The muscles in his face relaxed a bit and he nodded.
At the foot of the bed, Nicole gripped John’s toes. But it wasn’t until she called his name that he looked at her. “Daddy, Matt and I have something to tell you.”
Matt placed his hand on Nicole’s shoulder. “Hi.” His cheerfulness sounded forced. “It’s good to see you awake.”
Nicole put her fingers to her throat, and Abby knew it was probably too thick to speak. After several painful seconds, she swallowed and shook her head. “We wanted to tell you tonight, before you and Mom took your dancing—” Her voice broke and for a moment she hung her head.
Matt took over. “We had some news we wanted to share with the family. When we found out about your accident, we were going to wait, but Nicole . . .”
“I want you to know, Daddy. Because you have to do everything you can to get better.” She stroked his foot, her eyes never leaving John’s. “We’re going to have a baby, Daddy. It wasn’t something we planned, but it’s a miracle all the same.” She sniffed twice. “We . . . we wanted you to be the first to know, because we need you, Dad. I need you. Our baby needs you.”
Tears filled John’s eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. Then he gave a very deliberate nod and the corners of his mouth lifted just enough so they knew what he was feeling. No matter that he was strapped to a hospital bed . . . no matter what lay ahead on his journey to recovery, John was going to be a grandfather. And he was thrilled with the news.
Abby didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Jo had been right, after all. Nicole’s glowing look was exactly what her mother-in-law had guessed it to be. She was pregnant! Here, in the midst of Abby’s greatest nightmare, was a ray of hope, a reason to celebrate.
The conflicting emotions warred within her. She left John’s side and put her arms around Matt and Nicole. “I can’t believe it. How long have you known?”
“A few weeks. We wanted to make sure before we told anyone.”
Congratulations came from Sean and Kade, though their voices were hardly enthusiastic. Abby let her head rest on Nicole’s shoulder. She was too drained to do anything but stand there, motionless. She and John were going to be grandparents. It was something they’d talked about since they got married, only always it had seemed like some far-off stage. An event that happened to other people, old people. When Nicole got married, they knew the possibility was closer than ever, but still . . .
No one had expected Nicole to get pregnant so soon. No one except Jo.
An ocean of sorrow choked Abby as terrible thoughts assaulted her. Would John ever get to run and play with this first grandchild? Would he be able to walk the child around the block or bounce Nicole’s baby on his knee?
Please, God . . . let the doctors be wrong about his legs. Please . . .
In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.
The verse was one she and John had looked at a month ago, when the troubles at Marion High had intensified. There had been many times in life when the words from the book of John had not comforted her, but caused her fear. “In this world you will have trouble”? What peace could be gained from that?
But over the years she’d come to understand it better.
Troubles were a part of life . . . even events like losing their precious second daughter to sudden infant death syndrome or having her mother killed by the Barneveld tornado. Some troubles were brought on by a person’s own actions—like the years she and John lost because of their own selfishness. Other troubles were part of a spiritual attack—like what had happened this year at the high school.
But sometimes you simply stayed late
Troubles would come. After more than two decades together, this much Abby and John knew. The point of the verse wasn’t to dwell on the certainty of hard times, but rather to be assured of God’s victory through it all. If the Lord walked through the door of John’s hospital room right now, He would cry with them and feel for them.
But before He left, He would give them a certain, knowing smile, and these parting words: “Cheer up! I have overcome all of it!”
It was true.
The new life growing within her daughter was proof.
Fourteen
THE JAIL CELL WAS FREEZING COLD.
Jake huddled in the corner on a cot. He had one roommate, a strung-out kid who he gathered had been picked up for attempted robbery. Jake peered at the guy when he was first brought into the cell, but neither of them had said a word since.
The past twenty-four hours had been like something from a scary movie.
Paramedics had given him and Casey a quick check, and then police had brought the two of them to the station. From there they were sent in different directions. Casey was already eighteen, an adult. Jake, at seventeen, was still a minor. That meant he had to spend the first night in a cell full of teenagers, all with attitudes.
The booking officer told Jake his mother was in the lobby, but he was being charged with a felony. He couldn’t have visitors until he was properly booked and placed in his own cell, all of which happened Saturday afternoon.
He still hadn’t been able to see his mother.
Everything she had warned him about had happened. He could hear her voice each of the dozens of times he’d gone out with friends since getting the car.
“Stay home, Jake. You’ll be too tempted. A car like that could kill someone . . .”
It had been the primary source of his parents’ recent arguments. Mom thought the car was only his father’s way of making up for lost time, an apology for taking off to another state and living the life of an unfettered single man.
On more than one occasion, his mother had yelled at his father over the phone, trying to convince him that Jake was too young to handle a car like the red Integra. “You’re a poor excuse for a father. If you loved him, you’d be here in Illinois. Not gallivanting around with some . . . some floozy on the East Coast.”
The last thing Jake had wanted to do was prove his mother right, deepen the rift between his parents. Yeah, well . . . no question he’d done just that.
He rolled onto his side and pulled his legs up. He was lonely and scared and sick to his stomach. What if Coach had died? And if he was still alive, where was he and how was he doing? What were his injuries? Though Jake dreaded facing his mother, at least she would know what was happening with Coach.
For that reason, when the booking officer rattled the bars on his cell, Jake jerked himself upright.
“Jake Daniels.” The man used a key to unlock the cell door. Across from Jake, the ratty teenager fixed his gaze on the barren wall once more. The man with the key barked at him. “You have a visitor.”
Jake felt like a mess. He’d been stripped of his street clothes and wore a plain blue cotton jumpsuit—the kind you saw on criminals when they testified in court and their pictures ran in the newspaper.
“This way.” The man’s voice was terse. He led Jake down a hallway of small cells into a half room. There were a dozen chairs facing a solid glass wall, each with dividers that formed a series of small cubicles. At each chair was a telephone. The officer pointed to the last one at the far end of the line. “Down there.”
Jake’s steps sounded hollow as he made his way to the last chair and sat down. Only then did he see her. His mother sat on the other side of the glass, a telephone in her hand. Her face was swollen, her eyes bloodshot. Look what I’ve done to her. Jake gripped his sides, his heart beating out a strange, fearful rhythm he didn’t recognize.
I’ve ruined her life. I’ve ruined everyone’s life.
His mother motioned to the telephone, and Jake picked up the receiver. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and his palms were wet. His jailhouse breakfast lodged somewhere at the base of his throat. “Hello?”
She started to speak, then she dropped her head in her free hand and cried instead.
“Mom . . . I’m sorry.” Jake wanted to put his arms around her and hug her, but the glass was in his way. Could he burst through it? If so, maybe the glass would slit his wrists and he would die the way he deserved to. He stilled his thoughts and cleared his throat. “I . . . I’m so sorry.”
Finally she looked up and ran her fingertips beneath her eyes. There were black smudges there, remnants of yesterday’s mascara. “What happened, Jake? The police say you were racing.”
The running feeling was back. Maybe he could slip out a door somewhere and leave everything about Jake Daniels behind . . .
But the doors on every side were locked, and the mountain of misery standing before him was not going away. Jake massaged his temples. “That’s right. We were racing.”
His mother’s expression changed, and Jake felt his breath catch in his throat. In all his life, he would never forget the shock and sadness, the disappointment that marked his mother’s face in that instant. She opened her mouth, but for a long time nothing came out. Then she said just one agonized word. “Why?”
Jake hung his head. There was no good answer, none at all. He looked up and saw his mother was waiting. “I . . . uh . . . Casey challenged me.” He was suddenly desperate to explain himself. “No one shoulda been on the road at that hour, Mom. When Coach pulled out, there wasn’t time to . . .” His voice trailed off.
Through the smudged glass, his mother’s eyelids closed in what looked like slow motion. “Oh, Jake . . . it’s more than I can stand.”
“Is . . . is Dad coming?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”
The question was gnawing a hole through his gut. All day he’d wanted to ask about Coach, but now that his mother was here, Jake was terrified to do so. Finally he had no choice but to put his thoughts into words. “How’s Coach?”
“He . . .” His mother sniffed, her eyes full of new tears. “He made it through the night.”
A wild relief exploded in Jake’s soul, a relief like nothing he’d ever known. It made him glad he was sitting down, because otherwise his knees would have certainly buckled. Coach was alive! They could lock Jake up forever and he wouldn’t mind now. Not as long as Coach Reynolds was okay. He met his mother’s eyes again, then frowned.
She looked upset, like there was something she hadn’t yet told him.
“Jake, I talked to Mrs. Parker. She knows a family from the Reynoldses’ church.” His mother hung her head for a moment before looking up. “Coach is in bad shape, son. If he survives . . . he will almost certainly be paralyzed from the waist down.”
Paralyzed? Coach? Paralyzed . . . from the waist down? No way . . . not Coach! Jake felt like he’d wallowed into quicksand. Coach couldn’t be paralyzed. He was strong as an ox. The guys teased him that he was in better shape than anyone on the team. “Maybe Mrs. Parker’s wrong. What’s the news saying?”
“It hasn’t hit yet. The accident happened too late to make yesterday’s paper.”
Jake was shaking again. He ran his hand over the top of his head and down the back of his neck. “Mom, you can’t leave me in here like this. I gotta know what’s happening to him. It’s all my fault!”
She squeezed her eyes shut and sat perfectly still. He’d only seen her do that one other time—when his dad left home a few years earlier. Jake wasn’t sure, but he thought it probably meant she was having a breakdown. Once more he wanted to punch a hole in the glass, climb through, and give her a hug, but he couldn’t even do that. So many lives had fallen apart in one single moment, and it was all because of him.
“Mom, stop. I need you. The guy’s watching
“The officer told me you’ll stay here until Monday, maybe Tuesday. Whenever they can get you before a judge. They’re charging you with—” her voice broke, and fresh tears spilled onto her cheeks, “with felony assault and gross vehicular negligence. Also something about street racing and using a car as a deadly weapon. They want to try you as an adult, Jake. That could mean . . .” Her voice faded.
“Staying here a while.” Jake gripped the phone. “That’s okay, Mom. I deserve it.”
“More than a while, Jake. The officer said you’ll be lucky if you get out in five years.”
His mother didn’t understand. She could have told him he was in for thirty years and it wouldn’t have mattered. What was he going to do? His football days were over, so were his days behind the wheel. He could hardly go back to Marion High where everyone would know he was the one who’d ruined Coach Reynolds’s life. Yet he was only a junior, without a degree or training or any idea of how to support himself. He could hardly move to another town and start over.
No, he was trapped, and for now that suited him fine. This was where he belonged. And even here he could still walk down the hallway or pace across his cell.
If what his mother said was true, that was more than Coach Reynolds could do.
Hanging up the phone and walking away from Jake that afternoon was the hardest thing Tara Daniels had ever endured. But seeing Tim in the lobby of the city jailhouse the next afternoon was pretty close.
He walked in, his tie askew, eyes wide and bewildered, and immediately found her. After hearing the news, he’d taken the first flight he could find. This was the soonest he could get here.
Tara could think of a hundred things she’d wanted to tell him. When the phone call came from the police department telling her they’d arrested Jake for felony vehicular assault and that he’d been racing at the time of the accident, she wished they’d arrest Tim, too. Hadn’t she told him? Hadn’t she warned them both that a car that fast was dangerous for a teenage boy? Just like she’d told Tim their marriage was worth fighting for, that by leaving for New Jersey he’d only lose everything that mattered most: the love they once shared, the son they’d raised, and the closeness in faith that had once been so important to them.