Tyler rubbed the back of his neck, clearly touched by the story. “When I came to Merrill Place, her nurse said they had to keep her medicated.”
“She kept trying to escape.” The hurt of those times still felt fresh. “It was so sad. She just wanted to find Ben.” Cheryl brought her fingers to her face, struggling to compose herself. “Then you came into her life.”
“Your mother . . . she loves so completely.” Tyler stared at the closed door to her room. He looked at Cheryl again. “I definitely got the feeling Ben made some mistakes.”
“He did,” Cheryl could see her handsome brother again, his eyes full of life and adventure. “Crashed the family car into a tree. He never got an A in school, not once.” An image flashed in her mind, Ben’s face each semester when he brought his report card to her parents. “My dad wanted him to try harder. But Mom just told him he got an A-plus in the only thing that mattered—loving God and loving people.”
Tears shone in Tyler’s eyes. He nodded, stroking his chin. “Her words were intended for your brother, but they’ve helped me.” He wiped the back of his hand roughly across his cheek. “I’ve been trying to be perfect for a long time.”
Cheryl put her hand on his good one. “God works in miraculous ways. You were our answer to prayer.” She paused. “Maybe she was yours.”
Tyler thought for a second. “Did Ben play baseball?”
“He did.” Cheryl studied the young man. He looked so much like her brother. “He was very good. If he hadn’t been drafted, he might’ve had a shot at the pros.” She thought for a moment. “Have you figured out your surgery yet?”
“I’m saving for it.” He held his damaged arm closer to his body. “Sometime this spring. That’s my goal.”
Cheryl thought about this broken young man waiting until spring—six months or more—for his operation. He still wore the brace, and he moved carefully. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “But I’m off the pain medication. I can get through it.”
Again Cheryl wished she could help. But neither she nor her mother had that sort of money. “Let’s pray it happens a whole lot sooner. There has to be a way.”
“Can’t hurt to pray.” Tyler looked at the floor, not quite confident.
“How about now.” She took hold of his left hand. “My mom taught me the importance of praying. I prayed she would find peace before God took her home. That was like asking for the Lord to part the Red Sea all over again.” Cheryl smiled through fresh tears. “But He did it. He brought us you. So let’s ask Him about your shoulder.” She closed her eyes. “Father, You are good. Above all things, You are the great I Am. There is nothing we can do to earn Your love. But You sent Jesus to rescue us, to give us the love and blessings we don’t deserve and cannot earn.”
As she prayed, Cheryl realized how much she sounded like her mother. The thought made her a little less sad. “So now, Lord, we lift up Tyler Ames. He needs surgery and he needs it now. He’s in pain and he needs to get back out on that baseball field. We have no idea how that might happen, but You know. Please, God, work out the details. Give Tyler a miracle so he can know for sure that You see him, You love him. In the powerful name of Jesus, amen.”
“Amen.” They both stood and Tyler hugged her. “Thank you. For sharing your mother with me. For believing in me.” He looked at the floor and then back up at her. “You’ll never know how much my time with her has meant.”
“You’re going to get your surgery.” She grinned, more hopeful than before. “I believe it.”
“Thank you.” Tyler pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I need to get to work. I’ll come back tonight to check on her.”
“We’ll be here.” They hugged again and she watched him leave. After he was gone, Cheryl slipped back inside her mother’s room and took the chair near her bed. Her mom’s breathing had slowed, but she had a slight smile on her face. Completely at peace, her sweet mother.
Cheryl leaned back in the chair. What a miracle it was that Tyler Ames had come into their lives. His kind heart and uncanny resemblance to Ben. There had to be a way to help him get the surgery. She thought for a long time, running through ideas of local charities or people of influence that she might ask.
Then she remembered something. She looked up at the game on TV and again the camera was on the young man who had rented a room from them a few years back when they lived in Tennessee. He’d been a player with the Outlooks in Chattanooga, a young man on his way up. Of course, he was in LA now playing with the Dodgers. Cheryl tried to make a point of following his career. Every Christmas they exchanged cards and she would say a prayer for the young man. That one day he would find Jesus.
Maybe she should contact him. Cheryl let the idea take root.
Yes, she would call him this afternoon. Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner? At the very least he would know a doctor who might help Tyler. There had to be a surgeon somewhere who would give Tyler Ames a break, someone with a list of professional baseball clients and a love for the game. If anyone would know who that doctor might be, it was the young man who had been part of Cheryl and Chuck’s family for the better part of a year. One of the top pitchers around. The one who was pitching for the Dodgers today.
Marcus Dillinger.
26
THE AFTERNOON PASSED SLOWLY at Merrill Place, but as soon as Tyler finished his work, he returned to the hospital. Now as he sat beside Cheryl in Virginia’s hospital room, he felt filled with a purpose that hadn’t been there before today. Sure, he’d gotten off Oxycodone and he was stronger than before. But ever since his conversation with Cheryl in the hallway, he actually felt a sense of destiny.
Tyler Ames would make it back. Nothing could stand in his way. Not with people like Virginia Hutcheson and her daughter praying for him.
“It won’t be long,” Cheryl whispered the words, her attention on her mother.
Tyler knew he needed to say good-bye. This time was for family. He leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around the old woman’s. “I’ll keep you with me,” he whispered, his eyes dry. He couldn’t possibly be sad for Virginia. She was about to be reunited with her husband and her son. Heaven would be incomparably better than Merrill Place. Better than anything earth could offer. Tyler believed that because of Virginia.
She looked peaceful, her breathing slower than it had been even an hour ago. “Before I go”—Tyler leaned closer to her, his voice quiet—“I have something for you.”
Cheryl watched him, clearly curious.
He released the old woman’s hand and went to the grocery bag in the corner of the room, the one he’d brought with him.
“You didn’t need to get her anything.” Cheryl’s tone was kind.
“I wanted to.” From inside the brown bag he pulled out a vase of flowers. Daisies.
“Tyler.” Cheryl brought her hand to her mouth.
He caught her eye. “I’ve brought her flowers almost every day. But never daisies.” He set them on her hospital table. “I had to. After all she’s done for me.” He sat down and took Virginia’s hand again. “I brought you daisies. Your favorite.”
She already had one foot in heaven, no doubt. But there was no mistaking the way the corners of her mouth lifted. She gave Tyler’s hand a gentle squeeze and her lips moved. She didn’t need to say the words. Tyler knew she was thankful—the way he was thankful. He looked at Cheryl. “Do you have a phone with you?”
“Yes.” Cheryl pulled her cell phone from her purse.
“Can you take our picture? Me and your mom and the daisies?” He picked up the flowers again. “You can email it to me. That would mean a great deal.”
“Of course.” Cheryl waited until he had positioned himself alongside her bed, his good arm on Virginia’s shoulder. She took the shot and stared at it. “One day I’d like to show you photos of Ben. You really look so much like him.”
Tyler gave Cheryl his email address and she sent the picture. There. He sat back down and took Vir
ginia’s hand again. This way he could remember the dear woman from Merrill Place, the grace that she had taught him so much about, and the God she loved with all her being. He kissed her hand. “Good-bye, Virginia. Ben’s waiting for you.”
Two hours later Tyler was in his room checking email, looking at the picture with Virginia when another email came in. This one also from Cheryl. He opened it and read the few lines it contained. Virginia was gone—home to heaven and reunited with her husband and her dear Ben. Tyler covered his face with his good hand. He didn’t try to stop the tears, but they weren’t for Virginia. They were for himself. For all he still had to figure out, for the long days ahead without her love and wisdom.
Tyler closed his eyes and lifted his face toward heaven. Because of Virginia he had some changes to make. His mom and dad might not understand grace, but because of Virginia, Tyler did. He would share that grace with them, and maybe they would find what they’d lost all those years ago.
Unconditional love.
He had to do one more thing before he turned in for the night. Every day since Sami’s visit he had thought about her. How sincere she’d been and how much she’d cared for him. She had believed in him, not his game. He understood that now. In the last few days everything felt clearer.
Tyler pictured her again. Sami had been right there in front of him, the ocean at their side. But he had rejected her attempt to talk things out, forced himself to believe she was content with her life, better off with her boyfriend. Then he had sent her away with barely an explanation. As if every wonderful feeling they’d had and all the time they’d shared didn’t matter at all.
Well, it did matter. It all mattered. And now that she was gone he wasn’t going to waste another day. Not another moment. He opened his eyes and pulled the computer close again. Since Sami’s visit he hadn’t looked her up on Facebook. It was too hard to see her with her boyfriend—no matter how easily he had let her go last week.
He pulled up her page and was about to click the link to send her a private message when something caught his attention. First, her profile picture showed her standing in the ocean with a boogie board. She looked radiantly joyful. Tyler touched the screen. I remember you being that happy. He smiled despite the ache in his heart. Good for you, Sami. You live your life.
Then just as quickly he noticed her status. It was blank now. Tyler stared at the spot. What had happened? He scrolled down her page and through her most recent pictures. Every sign of the guy was gone.
His mind raced. Why the change? Did they break up?
He clicked the message link and thought about what he wanted to say. He began to type.
Dear Sami,
There was something I didn’t tell you when you were here. I haven’t only been a janitor here at Merrill Place. I was also Virginia Hutcheson’s only son. You might remember her. You had just walked through the front door of the place and an older woman walked up. She called me Ben, and she told you I was a catch. She said you were pretty. That was Virginia.
He wasn’t sure where this was headed, but he had to be honest. Had to tell someone who actually knew him the difference Virginia had made in his life. His fingers began to move over the keyboard again.
He told Sami the whole story. He explained that Virginia Hutcheson would stay with him always. He kept typing, recalling everything he learned since his injury.
He wasn’t sure why he was telling her so much, but he couldn’t stop now.
About God . . . we never talked about Him back then. But I think maybe God was there the whole time. Virginia taught me that.
Tears blurred the words on the computer screen. He missed Virginia already. He blinked so he could see what he was typing.
I guess I wanted to tell you about Virginia, but I also wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t treat you right when you were here. You belonged to someone else, so I didn’t let my heart feel anything. That’s what I told myself. But that was wrong. Being with you did make me feel something.
The truth is, I miss you. More than you could ever know. Especially on nights like this. Forgive me for keeping my heart locked up. Virginia wouldn’t want me to live like that. Now that she’s gone, I don’t want to live like that either. That’s it, really. I didn’t want you to think I was only a janitor at Merrill Place, when you see . . . I understand now, God doesn’t define me by my job. Whatever work He gives me. Forgive me, Sami. Keep riding the waves.
Love,
Tyler
He was closing out of her page when he saw something that stopped him cold. How had he missed this a few minutes ago? His heart soared and he couldn’t keep from smiling. Sure, her picture was new, and yes, she’d taken her relationship status down. But the most telling detail that something dramatic had happened in her life was this one single fact. She had changed her official name.
She was no longer Samantha Dawson.
She was Sami.
IT WAS THE third Sunday in October, the first without Virginia, and Tyler missed her more than he had ever expected. Some days he could almost feel her with him, her hand in his, her gentle voice reminding him of some life-altering truth. Today, though, would be the toughest of all.
This was Virginia’s memorial service. Cheryl had decided it should take place here, in the same place where Tyler had sung for her and her friends in recent weeks. “If you would sing a few songs and share your thoughts,” Cheryl had sounded weary, “I know it would mean so much to my mother.”
Tyler could get through the songs more easily now. The guitar felt familiar in his broken grip and the words were etched in his heart where they would stay. But he had never played the songs without Virginia in the front row. Her sweet smile, the way she nodded, encouraging him, urging him to keep singing for her and for Jesus. He had thought he’d be nothing but happy. Virginia had her son for real now.
But what about him? Who did he have?
The residents started filing in just after one o’clock. He took his usual place on the metal stool at the front of the living room and watched them arrive. A part of him wanted to believe that somehow she would appear, that she’d walk down the hallway and step into the living room with the others. Her eyes would find his and she’d walk to the seat front and center.
Her chair was there, same as always.
As the residents took their places, they were quieter than usual. More somber. Virginia was gone. Their times were coming. No one took Virginia’s seat, which was only right. When Tyler was halfway through “The Old Rugged Cross,” he could look there and see her, the way she would’ve looked. This was one of Virginia’s favorites. He’d sung it every time since the first Sunday. But this time the words hit him differently.
“So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, till my trophies at last I lay down. I will cling to the old rugged cross and exchange it one day for a crown.”
A crown? Wasn’t that what he’d worked all his life to find a way back to? They’d won the crown at the Little League World series, but ever since then he’d been chasing that sort of success. But that wasn’t what the song meant. This crown was one of grace and peace—the crown of salvation because of Jesus on the old, rugged cross. The trophies Tyler had collected, the ones still sitting in a box in his room—he needed to lay them down. None of them mattered the way grace did.
The crown of grace.
He kept playing, looking at the faces of the men and women in their eighties and nineties. Heaven waited for all of them. If they chose the gift of God’s salvation, they’d all be there one day. He sang “How Great Thou Art,” and then he set down the guitar. For a long time he looked at Virginia’s empty chair. Then he lifted his eyes to the residents.
At the same time he saw Cheryl and her family sitting nearby, watching. Tears streamed down her face.
Tyler found his voice. “This past week we lost our good friend Virginia Hutcheson.” He worked to keep his tone clear. He let his eyes rest on Virgina’s chair again. “The thing is, life is short. A hundred years
is nothing.” He looked at a few of the faces sitting nearby. “Right?”
A quiet chorus of murmurs and nods came in response. A few of the women quietly began to cry. One of them leaned over to the resident next to her. “Virginia died? No one told me.”
Tyler picked up his guitar and began singing “Amazing Grace.” “Virginia believed in Jesus and she believed in grace. She knew none of us has what it takes to make it home.” His voice caught. He waited for half a minute. Get it together, Tyler. He was never going to be a preacher, but here—for Virginia—he had to try.
He cleared his throat. “None of us can get to heaven alone. We can’t be perfect.”
His eyes met Cheryl’s across the room. “Perfect is God’s job. He’s perfect enough for all of us. You need Him and I need Him. If you haven’t made peace with that, then it’s time. Today.” He let that settle for a few seconds. “That way when our time comes, we can find Virginia Hutcheson and sing hymns on Sunday afternoon. Forever.”
That was all. Tyler finished Virginia’s favorite song and as he did, he had to hope that around the room a few hearts might’ve heard him. Some of the women were nodding and at the back of the room a man in a wheelchair began to clap.
The clapping became contagious. While Tyler softly strummed the last few chords, three women and then another two and a couple of old men all began to clap. They clapped for Jesus and salvation and a woman who had lived out her faith.
Tyler looked at Virginia’s empty chair and once more he could see her. Clapping along with her friends, tears shining in her happy eyes. Celebrating grace as only she could. He could see her and feel her presence and as he set down the guitar, he realized something he hadn’t before: the words he’d told Virginia were true. She would always be with him.
As close as the song.
27
WHEN THE MEMORIAL SERVICE ended, the residents gradually made their way back to their rooms. A few of them stopped by Virginia’s empty chair and touched the back of it. Just long enough to be intentional. Tyler waited, nodding and smiling. Not until they were gone did Cheryl walk up.