Detour: Destination Abiding Love (14 page)

Sierra couldn't hold the tears back now. “Why?”

“I don't know...” Her mother plucked a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped her eyes. “Perhaps to say goodbye.”

She felt a nudge.
Tell him.

She reached a shaky hand towards the hard plastic chair in the corner. Pulling it up to the bedside, she sat down and gathered his fingers in her own. The skin on his hand was paper-thin and felt cold and bony. “Dad?” she softly called.

No response.
God, help me
.

“Dad, it's me, Sierra.”

His eyes fluttered a bit, but he didn't open them.

She felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. “The doctors and nurses said they believe he can still hear us even if he can't respond.”

She nodded. “Dad, I have something I need to tell you. I...I am free from the bondage of drugs and sin. It wasn't the rehab program, though that was good, but I asked Jesus to be my Savior.” She heard her mother gasp behind her, and she continued on. “It's real, Dad. It's not just a bunch of fairytales and old stories as I thought. He's changed my life.” She looked up at the oxygen tube connected to the wall and listened to it hiss.
Please God, like the oxygen that is being pumped into his nostrils, breathe Your life into him. Help him to be able to hear me and respond to You.

Sierra took a breath. “He offers the same forgiveness to everyone.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Dad, He offers that same forgiveness to you.” She pushed the chair back and knelt at his bedside, resting her forehead against his hand. “All you have to do is ask, Dad. There is nothing you've done, no sin so black, that He can't forgive you. Just ask Him.” She raised her head and looked at him. Shock rippled down her spine.

Her father's gaze held hers.

For a moment, she could have sworn he smiled, and then his eyes closed and the monitors began wailing. Nurses rushed in with a cart and a page went out over the PA system.

A nurse approached her as a doctor rushed into the room and began barking orders. “You and your mother need to leave. Someone will meet you in the family waiting room as soon as we can.”

 

 

 

 

11

 

The gray sky matched Sierra's mood as she stood over the new granite grave marker, paying her last respects to her father before she left for New York. Cold rain slithered down her arms and a chill wind made goose bumps on her flesh. She walked to her car, and threw her purse on the passenger seat. Inside was her lifeline—her cellphone. Although she hadn't spoken to anyone, she knew they cared. Sierra wouldn't be able to count the times her cellphone rang over the past three days.

Mrs. Whitten and Melissa had left a message or two to see how she was doing and Cole had left about ten messages. She didn't want to talk, though, because she was a mess.

Perhaps even Cole had begun to understand. Why else wouldn't he have called yesterday?

She put on her seatbelt.
Just as well.
She hadn't even begun to sort through the events that had transpired in Daviston. Instead, she and her mother had planned an unexpected funeral. She roughly swiped away the tear rolling down her cheek.

Life stank.

She was tired of crying, but she was powerless to stop the tears. Sierra blew her nose, took a deep breath, and pulled her car away from the graveyard. With a promise to stay in touch with her mother, she pointed the wheel toward New York once again. What had been her lifetime passion, to play as a professional musician, no longer felt important. Nothing did. She was numb. It seemed as if everything had spiraled out of control, like the amusement park ride that spins so fast, the rider sticks up against the side of the wall, paralyzed and unable to move. But unlike the amusement ride, she didn't know if and when this spinning world would ever stop.

Sierra took a shaky breath and tried to find something good to think about. At least she had the opportunity to share her faith with her parents, which was nothing short of a miracle. She didn't know for sure if her father had understood, but she could hold onto the hope that he had asked Christ to forgive him before he died. And she and her mother were now talking, really talking. It wasn't the same as when she was a little girl, but her mother was trying.

Rome wasn't built in a day.

Her cellphone chirped again.
Well Lord, at least I know I haven't been forgotten.

 



 

Sierra unlocked her seatbelt and reached for her purse. Her stomach revolted against having the greasy burger that the rest stop offered, but she needed to eat something. She rummaged around for her wallet and phone. Finding her phone first, she checked the screen. A message. She tapped on the button and held the phone against her ear.

“Sierra, it's Laura Smith.” The sound of Cole's mother's voice couldn't have shocked her more. She sounded as if she had a cold. “Please call me as soon as you get this message.”

Sierra tapped the phone up against her chin and tried to decide if she should call her now or let it go. She had enough to deal with without becoming more upset over the soap opera playing in Daviston. Yet, something about her voice…Sierra didn't let herself think about it. Instead, she just hit the
CALL-BACK
button. Mrs. Smith picked up on the first ring.

“Sierra, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank God.” Mrs. Smith paused for just a second, and then blurted, “There's been an accident...”

Sierra's heart started to pound and her mouth went dry.
Oh Lord, not again.
“What happened?” She barely got the words out.

“Cole was bicycling. A car passed him on the bridge, but turned back into the lane too soon when a tractor trailer came from the opposite direction.”

Sierra sucked in a deep breath as she envisioned the scenario. It was a gruesome sight, she couldn't dwell on it. It was too horrifying to contemplate.

“The car hit Cole's front tire and he somersaulted into the air and over the bridge.” Her voice broke and she sobbed for a few seconds before she was able to continue. “He fell twelve feet down onto the rocky bank of the river.”

No, God. No!
Bile rose and threatened to erupt. She swung open the car door and gulped in breaths of air. “Is he...” She couldn't bring herself to say it.

Mrs. Smith sniffed loudly over the phone. “He's been in surgery for the last fourteen hours.”

Sierra let her head sink back.
Be with him, Lord.

Mrs. Smith's voice grew very soft. “They don't know if he will make it.” There was a scuffling sound, and then she spoke again. “I know I've been nothing but mean to you and I have no right to ask this, but Cole would want you to be here. Can you come?”

“I'll be there.”

 



 

Sierra stood at the foot of Cole's hospital bed in the intensive care unit. The bleached white sheet rested across his chest lifting with the steady rise and fall of his breath. Thick bandages covered nearly every inch of him. What skin did show around his eyes and cheek was bruised and swollen. His left hip and leg cast were held up in the air with a traction apparatus. “Has he woken up yet?”

His mother held a handkerchief up to her pursed lips and shook her head. “They have him heavily sedated so his body can heal faster.”

“Your five minutes is up.” A nurse stepped into the room. “I need to ask you to step back out for an hour.”

Sierra nodded, wishing she could touch him to let him know she was there, but she daren't. She walked to his bedside and leaned down close to his ear. “I'm praying for you, Cole. I'll be here in town until you get back on your feet, so don't you dare think about giving up.” A tear slipped down her cheek and plopped onto the gauze covering his head. “You get better.”

The nurse put a hand on her shoulder.

Sierra stood and marched out the door, into the waiting room. She didn't pay attention to anyone in the room, but found a chair and slumped into it.

“Sierra.”

She looked up and acknowledged Cole's dad with a slight nod.

He sat in the chair next to her. “Thank you for coming.” He sighed deeply. “The first responders at the scene said Cole was awake when they first arrived. Your name was the last thing he said before he lost consciousness.” He steepled his fingers and raised them up to his mouth in an obvious fight to remain stoic. “I know we didn't give you a chance, or even treat you fairly, for that matter, when you were here. Obviously, my son did. He cares a great deal for you. And by your being here, it shows even though we tried to push you away, you must care for him as well. Do you think you could forgive us for our foolishness?”

Sierra blinked away the moisture in her own eyes. “Of course.”

 



 

Two weeks had passed. Other than driving home for a shower and change of clothing, Sierra was at Cole's bedside. She was weary beyond belief, yet thankful that she could be with him. At first, it was just to be near him, praying through the dark hours of uncertainty. Then, as his body began to respond positively, she was there to encourage him with each milestone he took towards recovery. He was in for a painful journey with uncertain results and she only had one week remaining before they expected her in New York.

However, Sierra was confident, with the reminder from Pastor Bill, that God could work all things together for His good for those who were called according to His purposes. Whether there be a complete physical healing or not, she was humbled to know God saw fit to allow her to be here to walk this road with the man she had grown to love. She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You are a brave man, Mr. Smith.”

Mrs. Whitten breezed into the doorway. “Good morning,” she called out with a cheery wave.

Cole who had been transferred to the regular orthopedic floor groaned, but sent a quick wink Sierra's way. “I don't know. Is it?”

“Absolutely.” Mrs. Whitten gave Sierra a quick hug. “Do you have any idea of what God has been up to?”

That caught their attention.

Mrs. Whitten laughed and clasped her hands together. The joy on her face was sweet, like a little girl standing before her long-awaited Christmas present.

Sierra grinned. “What?”

Mrs. Whitten leaned forward like she had a juicy bit of gossip to share. “Yet again, He's done what seemed like the impossible. “

“What do you mean?” Cole asked.

She pulled a chair close to the bed and reached for Cole's hand. “I mean He's a God who loves to redeem and make beauty grow from ashes.” She rubbed a wrinkle out of her pants. “The town has been watching you, Sierra. They may be a bit slow, but eventually, they see things. They know that the Smith family, through Clara, pretty much forced you out of town.”

Sierra gulped. That seemed like such a long time ago.

Mrs. Whitten smiled gently. “They are amazed at the forgiveness you've extended to the Smiths. Had you held their past actions against them, like they had you, it never would have brought about this,” She waved her hand in the air looking for the right word. ”Fork in the road.”

Cole, still in traction, with bandaged here and there, reached for Sierra's hand, and she wrapped her fingers around his.

“Because of your example, they have…they have realized their error in holding your past against you. They are talking about what they can do to encourage you to stay. Some are looking at music jobs you may be interested in, others are trying to work on the hurts our community has inflicted on Pastor Bill and Melissa, and restore that relationship. It's going to take a while, but good things are happening.”

Cole beamed and squeezed her fingers. “Not that I'd wish this accident on anyone, but if this is what God chose to do to bring about a change in Daviston, I would do it all again.” His blue-eyed sincerity melted her heart. “I was trying to be that hero for you, but I couldn't do it in my own strength. It was a God-sized job, and He did it.”

Mrs. Whitten's eyes grew wide, and she stood up. “Oh my, I think it's time for me to go.”

Cole reached over to stop her. “Oh, no you don't, I may need a witness to what I am about to say.”

Mrs. Whitten sank back into her chair with a smug look. “Well, in that case, I don't mind if I do stay.”

Cole turned his gaze back to Sierra.

Her mouth grew dry at the love shining from his eyes as he held onto her hand.

“Sierra, I am a bruised and broken man, with nothing to offer you but my heart, which you already have. I love you.”

For the first time in who knew how long, a tear of joy and wonder slipped down Sierra's cheek.

“We can move to New York…”

“But what if I don't want to live there any longer?”

His eyes grew wide. “You don't?”

She shook her head and smiled.

He grinned back. “Well then Sierra, would you consider a life in an imperfect town, with the imperfect location to pursue your music, with an imperfect man who loves you with everything that is in him?”

She reached down and softly touched her mouth to his. “All that imperfection sounds... perfectly wonderful.” She smiled into his eyes.

He cupped his hand behind her head and pulled her to his lips again. The gentle kiss grew into more until she felt like she could float up to the ceiling.

He broke off. “It will be a long time before I can bend down on one knee, so if you don't mind, I'll take a bit of a detour over the usual.” He grasped both her hands in his. “Sierra, will you marry me?”

Sierra laughed. “I'm getting pretty good at this detour stuff, but you know what I've come to realize? Daviston wasn't a detour. It's the destination God intended for me. Yes, I would love to be your bride, more than anything else in the world.”