CHAPTER I
The second hand moved slowly around the clock, marking off the minutes. One, two, three, four, five. Dave kept his eyes on its movement. The drops of rain falling on the ledge outside his window seemed to keep time with the ticktock of the clock.
"I wish it would stop raining," he said aloud to himself. He thought that perhaps the sun shining through his window might help to brighten his spirits.
Reaching over with his left hand, he turned on his radio. The beat of the jungle-type music matched the wild beat of his heart. Listening a few minutes, he decided to change stations.
"Silent night, Holy night, all is calm, all is bright," a young tenor voice rang out in the stillness of the room. Soft organ music accompanied the singer.
"There is nothing calm or bright for me," Dave scoffed as he snapped off the radio.
"Ouch!" He had moved his leg too much and a pain shot through his whole body. "What a mess to be in!" He spoke aloud again but there was no one to hear him. What difference did it make if he chose to talk to himself? For that matter, what difference did anything make? As far as he was concerned, life for him was just one long, monotonous ordeal. He looked at his bandaged right arm lying limply by his side, on to his broken leg covered with a cast, then to the other leg swathed in bandages. His head ached, and his heart felt as if it would break.
"Oh, come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant," the young melodious voices of a church group resounded in his room. He covered his head with a pillow attempting to shut out the sound.
"I wish they would get lost," he grumbled.
He did not want to think of Christmas. Oh, if he were only capable of producing a mental block so that he would never have another thought of Christmas. "Joyful and triumphant, indeed!” he sneered. "Don't I have lots to be joyful over!"
His door opened and a nurse entered his room.
"Good morning, Mr. Maddox. How are you feeling today?" Mrs. Lucas' cheery voice irritated him.
"Just like I felt yesterday and the day before," he retorted. "How do you expect me to feel all wrapped up like a Christmas package?"
There it was again! Christmas! Everything was a reminder of Christmas. He turned his face to the wall hoping Mrs. Lucas would leave, but no, she had medicine for him. She poured a glass of water and offered it to him. "Here, Mr. Maddox, swallow these capsules."
Reluctantly, he obeyed. Mrs. Lucas straightened his pillow and top sheet, watching him solicitously as she made him comfortable. It appeared to Dave that she wanted to say something, but somehow words failed her and she turned to go.
"Mrs. Lucas," Dave's voice was gentler now, "what about Carol? I have a feeling something is wrong. The doctor is trying to keep something from me, isn't he?"
"Didn't Dr. Shepherd talk to you about her, Mr. Maddox?"
"Very little. He only tells me not to worry but to concentrate on getting well. Why can't I see her?"
Mrs. Lucas laid her hand on Dave's good one. He noticed a tear trembling on her eyelash as she spoke. "Mr. Maddox, you're lucky to be alive. My! If you could see that car you came out of, you would wonder how you have even this one good arm. Now, you must be patient. Your wife is getting the best treatment available, but she's having a rough time, too. It will take time."
"Could I send her a note?"
"Now, Mr. Maddox, you can't write a note with your left hand, can you? Cheer up! Tomorrow is Christmas. Here, let me open your door so you can hear the lovely Christmas carols. A youth group from one of the local churches is singing for us." She started for the door.
"No!" Dave's bottom lip curled in a sarcastic gesture. "Leave my door shut. I hate Christmas carols. In fact, I hate Christmas. Period!"
The look on Mrs. Lucas' face was one of sympathy as she left the room, being careful to close the door behind her.
"Christmas carols, indeed!" Dave scoffed. "Wouldn't they have a soothing effect on my jagged nerves?"
Once again, memories overwhelmed him as he lay helplessly on his pillow. The wedding was everything one could dream of. How beautiful Carol had looked in her lovely wedding gown as she walked down the aisle on her dad's arm. That red hair with its beautiful luster was not completely concealed under the gauzy, white veil. She had smiled in her own special way as their eyes met. Dave's heart had pounded as he stood proudly beside her loosening his tie in a nervous gesture. He yet recalled the minister's words. "We are assembled in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses to unite this man and this woman in the holy bond of matrimony." Dave closed his eyes tightly. How he longed to push these thoughts aside, but they swarmed through his mind like bees around a honey comb. "Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife to live together after God's ordinances in the holy state of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her as long as you both shall live?"
Dave groaned. Oh, the bliss of that moment! But now the uncertainty about Carol mingled with his own helplessness turned those happy memories into bitter heartache. "I pronounce you man and wife together in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. What therefore God hath joined together let not man put asunder."
The wedding was over. A few hours later, as Dave and Carol headed for the mountains to spend their honeymoon, Dave had put his arm about her shoulder and drew her close. Their mutual love for each other and joy in belonging to one another for life was beyond their comprehension.
"Next week Christmas will be here, Carol. I don't have o go back to work until after the first of the year. Just think, two whole weeks together, two wonderful weeks of bliss." Glancing at her, he had added, "My darling, how does it feel to be Mrs. Maddox?"
"Wonderful, Dave," she had whispered, snuggling closer to him and resting her head against his shoulder.
Perhaps if he hadn't been noticing how the bright sun flashed on that shiny, red hair against his shoulder he would have seen the danger sooner. He could only wonder if it could possibly have been soon enough. Had the trucker fallen asleep? Did he have a mechanical failure? Whatever the cause, when he looked up a big transport truck was heading right at him. Frantically he had jerked the steering wheel, but it was too late.
Now, here he was as helpless as a baby. And Carol, his precious Carol, was she even living? He had been unable to obtain any information whatsoever. Why, oh why, did all this have to happen just when he thought nothing could mar their happiness?
These unforgettable memories brought pain to his heart which seemed unbearable. "Life is cruel," he murmured, "very, very cruel. Why was I ever born?"
Exhausted from mental fatigue, he soon fell into a fitful sleep. The rain had ceased when he awoke, but a gloominess still permeated the atmosphere. Dave lay motionless in a deep depression. His door was slowly pushed open.
"Mr. Blake," he gasped.
His visitor walked to his bedside and lovingly laid his hand on Dave's good one. He attempted to speak but choked up each time he tried. The tears rolled down his haggard cheeks and he wiped them away with his handkerchief. He was the picture of a broken man.
"I'm a mess, am I not, Mr. Blake?" Dave commented, groping for something to say.
"Yes, Son," he managed to answer. "But you will be all right. You're lucky to be alive."
"Have you seen Carol?"
Mr. Blake nodded in the affirmative.
"How is she, Mr. Blake? How is my Carol?" Dave asked excitedly. Maybe he would learn the truth at last.
"She's resting, Son," he choked.
"Has she asked for me?" he ventured further.
"Not yet, Son. But don't you worry now. Just get well soon and I'll take you home with me. Ma and I will give you the best of care."
"Thanks, Mr. Blake, uh, Dad," Dave answered. "I'm glad to be married to a girl with such wonderful and considerate parents."
"I must go now, Son. I'll see you later. Hurry and get well." He patted Dave's shoulder and
hurriedly left the room. Had Dave been able to see the scene outside his door, it would have further crushed his spirits.
"Here, Mr. Blake, drink this," Mrs. Lucas was saying as Mr. Blake gave vent to his feelings and cried like a child. "Brace up now, Sir. You must try to be brave for Dave's and your wife's sake." Wiping his face with a damp cloth, she asked, "Is there any change in your daughter's condition, Mr. Blake?"
"None at all, Ma'am, none at all." Taking his handkerchief he blew his nose, wiped his eyes, and with stooped shoulders started toward the elevator. Stopping after a few steps he turned around and spoke to Mrs. Lucas, "Thanks for your kindness, Ma'am, to us and to Dave."
"You're so welcome, Mr. Blake. I wish I could do more." As the elevator door closed behind him she turned to an aide and remarked, "Poor, dear man! What an awful tragedy! Such young lives wrecked." She sighed, then added, "I tell you, Mabel, this gets on me till I can't sleep at night. Did you know they had just gotten married and were going on their honeymoon?"
"Yes, Mrs. Lucas. Everybody's talking about it. Makes you wonder why things like this happen, doesn't it?"
"One can't help but wonder, Mabel, but I guess it's not for us to question."
"And to think that tomorrow is Christmas. I wonder if we could do something special for Mr. Maddox to sorta cheer him up a bit."
"Save your energy, dear. He is very bitter and nothing we could do or say would be appreciated right now. Well, I'd better run. Merry Christmas, Mabel!"
"Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Lucas."
"Joy to the world! the Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King;
Let ev'ry heart prepare Him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven
And nature sing."
Dave opened his eyes. Christmas morn had dawned. The little cabin up in the mountains was to have been decorated with holly and mistletoe today, but instead it would be empty and deserted, cold and lonely. Dave's heart ached even worse than his leg that was giving him such pain. If he could only see Carol or hear her voice or know in some way that she would be all right. He wondered why she had never asked for him. Wasn't she able to talk? He shuddered to think such a dreadful thought.
"Carol," he whispered her name. "My sweet wife, Carol. I'd give anything to see you."
"Time for breakfast," the aide smiled down at him. Dave could not help noticing how neat she looked in her crisp, blue uniform.
"I don't want any breakfast," Dave said gruffly. "Take it away."
"Oh, come now, Mr. Maddox, this is a good Christmas breakfast. Look at this nice, juicy ham." She stuck the fork into it, breaking it apart to show its tender quality.
"Take it away, I said," his voice was getting louder.
She opened her mouth to protest further, but the look on his face caused her to say, instead, "Yes, Sir," and meekly pick up the tray and leave his room.
Dave's hand was shaking as he reached for a cigarette. He fumbled around until he got it lit, took one draw and snuffed it out in the ash tray.
"I feel nauseated,” he mused. "If I could only get up, I'd find out about Carol. There is something badly wrong and no one is fooling me."
His nerves were taut. He felt he would fly to pieces. The suspense seemed unbearable. There must be some way he could find out the truth, but how?
He lay looking at the ceiling, breathing heavily. Momentarily his attention was drawn to a small grey spider suspended on its web just over his head. He wondered how the cleaning woman could have missed seeing it for she kept his room spotless. As he watched the little creature, his door opened and Dr. Shepherd entered.
"Good morning, Dave, and Merry Christmas!"
"Morning," Dave grunted, his eyebrows puckered in a frown.
"How are you feeling today?" the doctor asked.
"Same as ever. How long do you think I'll be here?"
"Quite a while, my boy. Quite a while."
"Doc, about Carol?"
Dave noticed Dr. Shepherd flinch as he asked the same question he had asked daily.
"Didn't I tell you not to worry about your wife, Dave?" Dr. Shepherd spoke kindly. "You need all your strength for your own recuperation."
"Yes, Doc, I know. You've told me not to worry time and time again. But tell me, if it were your wife, would you be concerned?"
"Well, when you put it like that, Dave, I guess I'll have to answer truthfully and admit I would be concerned. Here, let me take a look at this old gash on your forehead. Looks like it is trying to get infected." Turning to the nurse, he added, "Clean it out good, Mrs. Lucas. I'll leave an order for an antibiotic. Be sure he gets started on it right away."
"Yes, Dr. Shepherd.”
“Is Carol hurt pretty badly, Doc?" Dave tried once more to get some information concerning his wife.
"I'm afraid so, Son. Do your legs give you much pain?"
"Sometimes, but the shots help. Is Carol conscious, Doc? "
"Your wife is resting, Dave. Now you do the same. I will see you tomorrow."
As he left the room, Dave realized that his questions had been evaded again.