Darkness Before Dawn (16 page)

As the world stopped turning and she regained her equilibrium, she pulled herself
off the couch, turned off the living room light, and headed toward bed. As she changed
into her pajamas and brushed her teeth, she knew that for the first time in the weeks
since Steve died, she would sleep well. With Cheryl’s firm resolve, she was sure her
case was in good hands, even better hands than those of Webb Jones. And with an option
to rid herself of this now unwanted pregnancy, she realized she’d soon be feeling
strong again. She was back on track, maybe not the same track she had spent her life
traveling on, but a track that could get her things she needed and take her away from
the things she had to forget.

The phone’s ring stopped her just before she turned out the light beside her bed.
Walking back to the living room, she wondered who would be calling her on her landline.
A glance at the receiver told her it was a hospital exchange. But this wasn’t one
she was familiar with. She almost let it go, but, as she was in a good mood and seemed
to have the world by the tail, she decided to gamble this would be someone she wanted
to talk to. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hello.” For the first time in weeks, Meg’s voice had an almost upbeat ring to it.

“Hi, this is Nancy.”

“Who?” Meg inquired flipping through a mental catalogue of the people she knew at
Springfield Community.

“Nancy Leslie,” the woman explained, “the nosy patient in room 211.”

Of course, the woman she’d been so rude and insensitive toward earlier in the day.
Why would she be calling her at home? A little embarrassed, Meg blushed and awkwardly
mumbled, “Hi.”

“I suppose,” Nancy continued, “that you’re surprised to hear from me, but I felt I
owed you something. After all, I was pretty thoughtless. Nurse Rodgers told me what
you’d been through, and well, I really put my foot in it, didn’t I? I hope that you
can forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg assured her. “I just had a bad day.”

“You know, folks like me . . .” Nancy’s voice halted for a few seconds, and then in
a rather unsure manner she picked up her thoughts. “I guess what I mean is that I
often take it for granted that no one has any problems but me. Joe—he’s my husband—was
in this evening, and I told him about what I’d done and the tough situation that you
were in. After we talked I realized I’m much luckier that you.”

“What way is that?” Meg’s asked. “I mean you’re . . .” She stopped herself before
going any further.

“You can say it,” Nancy began. “I’ve gotten use to hearing it. I’m dying. But sometimes
I think that my dying is tougher on Joe than me. I mean, I don’t want to die, but
at least I’m a lot closer to finding out why it had to happen than Joe is. Do you
know what I mean?”

As she considered Nancy’s words the old Meg resurfaced to such a degree she almost
said a prayer. While the prayer never came out, a bit of compassion did bubble to
the top.”

“Nancy, I think I follow you,” Meg softly replied, “but what you’re going through
is—well—it’s horrible. You’re too young and according to Heather, you are too special
to die.” She almost choked on the last word and after it had come out she regretted
even saying it.

“The world’s not perfect,” Nancy replied, “but I’ve been blessed more than some who
live a hundred years.”

“Isn’t there something someone can do? They’ve got incredible programs at MD Anderson
Cancer Center in Houston. Maybe someone down there has a new treatment that could
help you.”

“I’ve been there,” Nancy assured her. “And a lot of other places, too. I think I’m
a decade too soon.”

Meg heard the words but refused to accept what Nancy was saying. It was just too painful.
Rather than respond directly to the question, she threw out a trite statement that
carried little weight and one she’d heard a half dozen times in the days after Steve
died. “It has got to be tough on you.”

“Yeah, maybe it was for a while. I mean, I want to live as much as the next person,
but after a lot of soul searching, I finally decided that it was better me than someone
I love.”

“What?” Meg asked.

Nancy didn’t hesitate with her reply. “God’s given me a ticket to a better place and
I’d be a fool to question His timing. So I just say why not me? From what Heather
told me about your husband, I think he’d rather it have been him than you.”

The woman was probably correct. Steve always put her first. But this wasn’t about
a choice; it was about a murder. Steve didn’t get cancer, he’d been murdered. If that
was God’s will, then didn’t that make God an accessory to that murder?

“Nancy,” Meg asked, as an image of Jim Thomas once more entered her head, “don’t you
feel like God cheated you?” Meg’s voice hid none of her own bitterness. She was angry
about
what had happened to Steve. And she was suddenly angry about what was happening to
Nancy. In fact, in a strange sort of way, she was beginning to identify with Nancy.
They’d both been treated unfairly, and therefore, they both had every right to ask
that the world cater to them. Yet, why didn’t this woman demand that? Meg figured
if she pressed all the right buttons, Nancy would reveal these emotions and if Nancy
would just admit her anger it would be easier for Meg to quit feeling sorry for her.
And Meg didn’t really want to feel sorry for anyone other than herself. But right
now she couldn’t help but feel sorry for Nancy.

“No,” the woman answered, “cancer isn’t something that God created.” Her voice was
firm and resolute as she continued. “You see, the earth He created was perfect. It
was people who messed it up. I really believe that God feels just as cheated as I
do. But He hasn’t forgotten me; He really wants to comfort me. It took me a while
to figure that out.”

“I just can’t buy it.” Meg’s answer revealed her pain. “In fact, I think anyone who
says that God cares about us is pretty stupid. I don’t even know if there really is
a God. But I do believe the devil is the kid who was driving that car that killed
Steve.”

“I think I understand,” came the calm response. “I was pretty angry when the cancer
came back the third time. I thought I had it licked after the first two battles. It
just didn’t seem fair. Then I got to thinking about my family and friends. I sure
wouldn’t want them to have to deal with this. So I decided I’d gladly take it if that
meant they wouldn’t get cancer. That probably doesn’t make any sense to you right
now.”

“No,” Meg replied, “I’d rather anyone else in the world, even one of my friends, would
be going through this rather than me. I would do anything and sacrifice anyone to
get Steve back.”

Nancy answered rapidly. “But given time . . .”

“No, you don’t understand.” Meg’s tone was much like that of a mother talking down
to a child. “In my case, I would rather have died than lose Steve. It would have been
easier. Especially the way I lost him.” Without realizing it, Meg had suddenly been
drawn into revealing her true feelings—feelings she hadn’t even voiced until this
moment and feelings she didn’t want to voice. Now that the door was open, there didn’t
seem to be a way to close it. Why had she gotten caught up in this conversation? Why
had she answered the phone? It was just too painful. Never had the truth hurt so much.

With Meg struggling not to cry, Nancy offered another observation. “Joe and I always
wanted kids, but my first surgery prevented that. If we had had a child, then Joe
wouldn’t be so all alone when I die. I probably shouldn’t, but I have to admit that
I know that you’re pregnant. I also know that your child is something you can live
for. Your child will be the product of the love you had for your husband and he had
for you.”

“I don’t want the child,” Meg shot back. “I’m sorry to say that, after finding out
that you couldn’t have any of your own, but the only thing I really want is to make
sure that Steve’s killer is punished. One way or the other, I will do that.”

“Meg, Heather told me that you and your husband had always been very dedicated Christians.
I know you worked with kids in church. Surely the mere fact that Steve had accepted
Christ and is in heaven . . .”

Meg didn’t have any patience for this. She didn’t want to hear one more thing about
God. She snapped back. “There isn’t a God, at least not in my world. The con job that
I got my whole life was that if I were good then I’d be blessed. Well, you see what
that kind of thinking got me. My life is in my hands. The things I want, I’ll get.
The things that I don’t want, I’ll get rid of.”

Before Meg could conclude, Nancy cut back in, “Does that mean your baby?” Her voice
was almost a whisper.

“Yes,” the answer was firm.

“Have you talked to anyone about this?” Nancy’s tone was now somewhat frantic. “I
mean, maybe you could speak with your preacher or a family counselor or someone. You
really need to be sure that this is the right decision. You can’t just do it and then
change your mind.”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone else,” Meg retorted. “It’s my decision, mine alone.
I don’t need anyone else to tell me how I feel. I know how I feel!”

For several long seconds the line was deathly quiet. Finally, Nancy spoke.

“I know that I’m once again being nosy. I know that I have no right to even ask this,
but I have to. What would your husband think of your decision?”

Why did she have to call at all? Why did Nancy have to ask that question? This question
was one that Meg hadn’t considered. And she didn’t want to consider it now because
she knew what Steve would want. He would want her to keep the baby. He’d so wanted
to have a little girl to spoil. And then later, he wanted a boy to take fishing and
to ballgames. He’d always thought that kids were special and he loved their innocent
views of life. He’d gone to the park just to watch them play. He’d even spent hours
teaching the neighbors’ kids how to throw a baseball and shoot a basketball. He had
forced her to go to toy stores when they went shopping and pointed out which toys
their kids were going to have. Yes, she had to admit, she had once felt the same way,
but now she couldn’t let herself feel anything. The past was the past. Everything
had changed. She had to stand up for herself. She had to be strong. If she wasn’t,
she might change her mind.

“Well, he would . . .” Suddenly, the assurance, so evident in Meg’s voice just minutes
before, was gone. Though she wanted to lie, she couldn’t. Finally she just said, “Steve
would have understood.”

She knew her answer hadn’t convinced Nancy, but she hoped the other woman wouldn’t
pursue this angle any further.

“It sounds like your husband was a very special person.” Nancy’s statement was phrased
more like a question.

“He was the most special person on earth.” Meg’s response brought back a flood of
memories as to just why Steve had been so incredible. She remembered the cards he
had sent, the clothes he had surprised her with, the picnics in the middle of the
living room, and the way he had held her in the middle of the night. Those memories
brought back an overwhelming need to see him again, to hold him in her arms. Still,
she knew that those times were gone forever. Glancing down at her wedding ring—the
one that she kept meaning to take off but never did—she attempted to put together
some kind of sentence that would explain to this woman just how wonderful Steve had
been. “There just aren’t any words,” she finally offered, her voice now much softer.
“He was thoughtful, loving, and so much more. When he was here, I was so alive. Now”—her
voice caught on the words—”now, I’m just not complete.”

“Yes.” Nancy’s voice showed real sympathy. “I know you’re not. Steve’s life was very
precious, wasn’t it?”

Without even thinking, Meg responded, “Yes.”

“You don’t have to answer this,” Nancy began. “But don’t you think that his baby’s
life might be just as precious to someone, someday? Maybe even you? That child can’t
take your husband’s place, no one can. But doesn’t the fact that it has a part of
your husband in his or her genes make it special enough that you would fight for it?
Maybe even die for it?

“Listen,” Nancy continued, “I have no business bothering you again. And believe me
when I say that I didn’t mean to get into all of this. So I probably owe you another
apology for overstepping my bounds again, and you’re right, whatever you do is your
decision; still, I want you to know that I’ll be praying for you.” She paused for
a moment before concluding, “If you get a chance come by and see me tomorrow. I promise,
no lectures.”

“If I have time,” Meg murmured.

“Good-bye, Meg.”

“Bye.” A click and a dial tone followed.

The call had no more than concluded when tears began to stream down Meg’s face. She
didn’t want anybody praying for her. She just wanted to do things her way and be left
alone. Suddenly a feeling centered deep within her stomach signaled the baby was haunting
her again. That feeling brought the true reality of the situation into sharp focus.
She was living in a nightmare and the best way to end it was to at least rid herself
of the cause of her sickness.

S
O, YOU CAN DO IT NEXT
M
ONDAY
?” T
HERE WAS A FIRM RESOLVE IN
Meg’s tone. “Good, I’ll come in around ten o’clock. Thanks.”

Meg slipped the phone back into her pocket and turned around. She was shocked to see
Heather behind her. When had she come in and what had she overheard?

“Who was that, Meg?” Heather asked.

Why did everyone in the world want to know her business? Her mother, Nancy, and Heather
all seemed ready to gang up on her. Well, that wasn’t right. They were concerned and
that was understandable, but they couldn’t live her life for her and they had no right
to either.

Lowering her chin and shooting a hostile glance across the room was all it took for
Heather to avert her gaze and mumble, “Can you cover the station? I think I’ll go
down and check in on Mrs. Burlson.”