The Heart's Choice. Joyce Livingston

to Beck’s heart.

      Dr. Flint moved to the opposite side of the bed and, through misty eyes, stared quietly at the bandaged face.

      “If it weren’t for me, your son—”

      James Flint put a cautioning finger to his lips, then said in a low whisper, “Shh. We have to be careful what we say around her. The doctor said sometimes, even though people are in a coma, they claim later they could hear what was being said in the room. We don’t want her to know about him until the doctor says she’s ready and can handle it. I’ve already warned Annie to be careful about what she says.”

      Beck nodded.

      The two men moved to the foot of the bed and continued their conversation in hushed tones. “You can’t go on blaming yourself, Beck. It wasn’t your fault. Both my wife and I realize that. From what the sheriff told us of his ongoing investigation, you did the best you could to get that truck stopped. In fact, the sheriff said it looked as if the accident could have been a whole lot worse if you hadn’t maneuvered that truck to the side of the road like you did. I’m just glad you remembered Adam’s license plate so they could trace it and let us know what happened. I’d bought that SUV for him as an early graduation present, so it was still registered in my name. I’d even had those silly words, Adam’s toy, put on that plate.”

      Beck stared at the motionless figure in the bed. He had done all he could, but it hadn’t been enough. A young man in the prime of his life had died, and a woman lay badly injured and in a coma. He almost felt embarrassed to be alive. Why God had spared his sorry life and taken theirs he’d never understand. At least, not until he met his Savior face-to-face and could ask Him. He tried to speak, but his throat tightened and held his words captive.

      Dr. Flint placed his hand on Beck’s shoulder, pausing as if to get control of his emotions before going on. “From what the sheriff said about the looks of that truck of yours, I’d say you were lucky to get out of it alive.” He gestured toward the woman in the bed. “Good thing she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt. If she’d had it on, she might not have been thrown out the window and ended up in that—”

      “I’m concerned about your wife, Dr. Flint.” Beck blinked hard, his own emotions about to get the better of him, too.

      “Annie hasn’t slept a wink since—well, you know. Her cardiologist checked her over this morning before we came to the hospital. Her heart is as weak as ever, and he’s worried about the strain all of this has put on her. We have to keep a close watch on her and protect her as much as possible.” He motioned toward Tavia. “I think all that’s kept Annie going is the sweet little girl lying in that bed. The two of us can’t understand why God would take our Adam, but we’re so thankful He didn’t take Adam’s fiancée, too.”

      Beck gazed at the woman, trying to imagine what her face would look like without the contortions of fear he’d seen on it. “I’ll bet she’s as pretty as her name.”

      “I—I don’t know.” The man frowned as he gazed at the bandaged face. “Our son thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, but my wife and I have never met her.”

      Beck stared up at him, confused by his words. “You’ve never met her?”

      “No, she and Adam had recently become engaged, but we hadn’t had a chance to meet her yet. That’s why he was bringing her home. I couldn’t even tell the hospital if she had insurance, but once I told them I’d be responsible for her bills if she didn’t, and signed a few papers, they were appeased.”

      Beck let out a deep sigh. “Seems sad that a hospital would be concerned about getting their money when someone is injured.”

      “I know, but as a doctor, I understand. Hospital care is expensive. Someone has to pay the bill.”

      “You have seen pictures of your son’s fiancée, haven’t you?”

      Dr. Flint shook his head. “Actually, no, I haven’t. I just hope her face—” The man stopped midsentence, his eyes once again gazing at the still figure. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. The CAT scan showed no brain damage. That’s a good sign. The doctor said they’re evaluating her neuro status every couple of hours. She’s responding to stimulation. Her pupils are equal and reactive to light. We have to keep trusting God to answer our prayers.”

      “It scared me when she sort of gagged and coughed, but the nurse said that’s okay.”

      “Yes, that’s normal. I guess if I had a tube going down my throat, I’d gag, too.”

      A trim, haggard-looking woman in her late fifties moved slowly into the room, her face showing evidence of the many tears she’d shed. Though she offered him a weak smile, Beck could tell it was with great effort. He knew, first-hand, there hadn’t been anything in her life the past twenty-four hours that would cause a genuine smile. “Hello, Mrs. Flint.”

      James Flint leaned close to his wife and whispered, “Remember, we have to watch what we say around her. She may be able to hear us.”

      She nodded. “How are you doing, Beck?”

      “I’m okay, Mrs. Flint.”

      Annie Flint’s husband’s arms circled her and pulled her close. “I was just telling Beck that Adam and Jewel were engaged.”

      Annie leaned into her husband, her eyes overflowing with fresh tears. “They were so happy.”

      The tremor in her voice tore at Beck, pulling at his heart and bringing back his penitent feelings of responsibility.

      James shrugged and pulled her even closer, his whisper cracking with emotion, “I’m just thankful Jewel was spared.”

      Annie pulled away from her husband and moved to the bed, touching her almost-daughter-in-law’s arm. “She has to be special. Our Adam loved her enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her.” She whirled around quickly and pressed her face into her husband’s chest as deep, uncontrolled sobs racked at her body. “Oh, J-James! This is so hard! Why would God take our son?”

      A shrill beeping sent the room’s occupants into sudden panic.

      Chapter Three

      Voices.

      I hear voices and some sort of sound. A beeping sound.

      Tavia tried to concentrate, but her fuzzy brain wouldn’t allow it. No matter how hard she tried to zero in on the distant noises, they drifted in and out like a radio station whose signal was being lost. She struggled to open her eyes but nothing happened. It was as if she was in a deep, deep pit, with no control and no way out. She even tried to scream, to call out to someone—anyone, but her vocal cords remained still, her commands not getting through to them. Help me! Someone help me!

      Do they even know I’m here? If I can’t see them, does that mean they can’t see me? Oh, where am I?

      Carefully pushing every other thought from her mind, she tried to listen to the voices, but the sounds were getting weaker and weaker. No matter how hard she willed herself to hang on, she felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into the pit. No! I want to stay here. I have to hang on. But to what? There’s nothing to grip. No handles. No rung on the ladder.

      “There’s no need for concern,” she heard a woman’s voice say through the haze circulating in her mind. “It’s time to change her IV, that’s all.”

      Tavia willed herself to tighten her grip on the walls, clinging to them frantically. She listened, but again the words were drifting in and out. She felt herself falling— going backward, spinning out of control. What would happen if she hit bottom? Everything was dark—so dark. She hated the darkness. Nearly everything bad that had ever happened to her had happened in the darkness.

      “Go back to your room, Beck. You need to get some rest.”

      Beck? Who is Beck? Tavia struggled to find something solid to hang on to—something to stop her fall. Though