The Heart's Choice. Joyce Livingston

gave James a dubious look. “Are you sure she’s up to it?”

      “She’s out of her mind with grief—we both are—but she insisted on coming here today.”

      Beck grabbed on to the wheels on the side of his chair and spun himself around. “I promised the nurse I’d leave as soon as you two got here. You will let me know if there’s any change, won’t you?”

      “Yes, of course. You know we will.” James motioned downward. “By the way, that leg bothering you much? I see you wince now and then.”

      “It’s doing okay. My injuries are nothing compared to hers. With those pins holding it together, the doc said it should be fine.”

      “How about the bump on your head?”

      Beck’s fingers touched the stitches holding together the split in his forehead. “Still sore, but it’s the least of my worries. I just want this leg to get well so I can drive again. Driving is all I know.”

      He lingered long enough to take one last look at the still figure in the bed. Why did he have the strange feeling she was reaching out to him? He’d never even met the woman, yet he’d never forget those frightened eyes as they’d peered up at him through that window. He’d seen many a frightened deer mesmerized by his truck’s powerful headlights, but none had worn the look of sheer panic she’d had as she’d stared up at him. Those eyes had pleaded for help. He hadn’t been able to do a thing for her, and it had nearly killed him. In fact, he almost wished he’d died in the accident. Anything would be better than knowing his truck had killed a man, and injured this woman nearly to the point of death. Even if she made it, what would her life—

      “Mr. Brewster? I’ll help you if you’re ready to go.”

      He turned quickly to find one of the nurse’s aides holding on to the handle grips on his wheelchair. “Sure. Yes, thanks. I’m ready.”

      “You can’t let this consume you, Beck.” James Flint released his hold on his wife and moved to Beck’s side. “Perhaps it’d be best if you stayed away for a few days, worked on getting yourself well. I’m afraid the time you spend here is depressing you, and that can’t be good for you.”

      Beck stole another quick glance toward the tiny patch of skin showing beneath the heavy bandage. “Sir, I hope you’ll allow me to keep coming. I—I can’t go on with my life until I know she’s—”

      James cleared his throat nervously, then motioned the nurse’s aide to roll Beck to the door, whispering so only Beck could hear, “I didn’t want to say too much in front of Annie, but there’s no telling how long Jewel may stay in that coma, and we—we may lose her yet, unless God intervenes. There’s always the chance of complications.”

      Beck swallowed at his emotions. “I pray for her constantly. God can’t let her die.”

      Joining them near the door, Annie wiped at her tears and circled her arms around her husband’s waist, her face drawn and red from crying. “None of this makes any sense. I want my Adam back! He was too young to die. I don’t understand why God, a God of love, would take him! Or why he would allow Jewel to be so severely injured.”

      James stroked his wife’s back, his own eyes filling with tears. “I don’t, either, sweetheart. I’m as angry about this as you. I’m sure God understands our anger.”

      Beck grimaced. “I can’t begin to imagine how hard this is on the two of you. Even knowing God and being able to turn to Him, I’m having a hard time, too.”

      “Hopefully, we’ll understand it by and by. We have to keep trusting Him, Beck, and keep praying for our little girl.” James nodded to the nurse’s aide. “Make sure this man takes care of himself.”

      The woman smiled and began to maneuver the wheelchair across the room.

      Beck glanced back over his shoulder as she moved him into the hall. “Remember—if there’s any change…”

      James smiled. “If there’s any change, we’ll come after you.”

      Beck rode silently through the long, sterile halls, his mind fixated on Jewel Flint. Surely, since the CAT scan didn’t show any serious damage or swelling, she’d come out of that coma soon. What a shock it was going to be to wake up and find Adam had died.

      He waved off the nurse’s aide and struggled to pull himself onto his bed when they reached his room. He wasn’t used to having anyone do things for him. He’d always been that way. His dad had been a military man and had treated his family like soldiers in his platoon. Stand up straight. Speak only when you’re spoken to. Make sure you can bounce a dime off that bed when you make it. Keep those shoes shined. Say “sir” when you speak to me. He could recite hundreds of commands his father had enforced. But, looking back, none of those things had hurt him or his siblings. They’d all turned out to be a pretty good, independent bunch of kids. All five of them.

      “Ready for a pain pill?” the nurse who’d just come into his room asked. “I see on your chart your doctor has prescribed them for you but you haven’t been taking them.”

      He shook his head. “Don’t need them. Thanks.”

      His body felt as if it needed them. Everything ached, but he wasn’t about to take any pills that weren’t absolutely necessary. He’d heard too many horror stories about guys getting hooked on them, and he wasn’t going to be one of them. His livelihood was driving a truck. Besides, pain pills couldn’t stop those big round eyes from haunting him.

      “Well, it’s up to you. Let us know if you change your mind.” The nurse placed the chart on the nightstand and moved to take his vitals.

      He watched in silence. “Think I’ll make it?” he asked with a shy grin when she finally finished and picked up a pen to write the information on his chart.

      “What do you think?”

      “I think I’ll feel a whole lot better when I get out of here and can walk normally again.”

      Tavia struggled though the mist, reaching upward with all her might. She had to get out of that dark pit before it consumed her. What was that noise? A swishing of some kind. Suddenly she felt warm. She’d been so cold, now she felt warm. Why?

      “Well, little lady, is this going to be the day you come back to us? I’ve opened the blinds. Can you feel the sunlight on your face? It’s a beautiful day outside. Clear. Crisp. How about a nice warm washcloth on your face? How would that feel?”

      Tavia could hear the sound of running water and someone humming, then footsteps shuffling across a floor. “As soon as we get you all cleaned up, I’ll rub some nice lotion on you. Would you like that? Oh, by the way, that man in the wheelchair was here again this morning. He wanted to know how you were doing.”

      Man? What man?

      “He sure is interested in you. I had to chase him out of here so I could give you your bath.” There was a pause. “He doesn’t look so good himself. Broken leg, big knot on his head and who knows what else, but I guess he’ll be going home soon. Umm, let me see. I think his name was Dick? Bart? Beck? Something like that.”

      Beck? That’s the man I heard talking!

      “Come on, Missy. Let’s turn you on your side. We need to pull this gown off and get you into a clean one. There you go. Now, let me lift your arm.”

      Pain! I can’t stand the pain. With one final thrust, she sent herself hurtling upward, willing her eyes to open.

      There was the sound of something suddenly hitting the floor, a metal dish or pan, a gasp, footsteps moving away from her, then silence.

      Wait! Don’t leave me! Tavia felt her pain increase and her strength waning, but she couldn’t give up now. Not when she was so close. Come back!

      “I’m sure I saw her eyelids flutter!”

      “Let