CHAPTER III
"Mind if I pray for your wife?" Miss Taylor asked that afternoon.
"I don't care how much you pray, Miss Taylor, but I don't think it does any good."
The hurt look on her face showed that his words had stung, but she bowed her head and, in a trembling voice, she prayed, "Dear Father, we come to thee in Jesus' name, knowing Thou dost have all power in heaven and in earth. We're asking Thee to extend mercy to Dave and his precious wife in this time of need. Touch Carol according to thy divine will and touch Dave's heart, helping him to surrender his life to Thee. Grant strength and help to all of us. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen!"
Dave's heart was pounding. He had never heard anyone pray before, except at his mother's funeral and at his wedding. He could not look at Miss Taylor for fear his look would betray what he felt in his heart. "According to thy will," she had prayed. What if it was not God's will to spare Carol's life. Dave felt he just could not give her up so it would have to be God's will to heal her.
After Carol's parents arrived later in the day, Dave went back to his room and fell into a spasmodic sleep. The ringing of the telephone awakened him, and he fumbled around in the dark until he found the receiver.
"Hello, Dave. This is Mrs. Jones at the Mercy Hospital. Dr. Shepherd requests that you come to the hospital immediately."
"I'll be right there, Ma'am. "
Trembling intensely, and with his heart beating wildly, he struggled into his clothes.
What was wrong? He would not let himself think the worst, Maybe God had answered Miss Taylor's prayer. Maybe, a miracle had happened. He would believe the best until ...
In a few minutes, he was at her bedside. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was ten minutes after ten. Miss Taylor was checking Carol's blood pressure while Dr. Shepherd was listening to her heart. The doctor straightened up and looked at Miss Taylor with a grave expression. She checked the patient's pulse rate and then looked helplessly at Dr. Shepherd. They both looked at Dave, then at Carol's parents. Words were not needed; the message was clear.
The long trips to and from the hospital were over for the Blakes. Their only daughter was gone. All their hopes and dreams for the happy years ahead had vanished. Mrs. Blake sobbed in her husband's arms. In their first moments of grief, they were oblivious of Dave's need.
Dave stood alone, stunned. Dr. Shepherd placed his arm about him and said, "I'm so sorry, Dave, but she's gone." Dave could only stare blankly. He appeared not to comprehend, but in those heartrending moments by Carol's deathbed, his blank eyes were seeing things the others could not see. He was seeing an empty life stretching endlessly ahead with no wife, no home, no love, no happiness ....
"No, no! I can't face it," he cried out.
"Watch him, Miss Taylor," Dr. Shepherd whispered to her. "He seems to be in shock. Poor boy! This has been an unbearable ordeal."
"Dave," Miss Taylor spoke tenderly, "remember we prayed for God's will to be done. Now you must accept God's will."
"But you said God could heal," Dave protested.
"Sometimes, Dave, He does not see fit. If He healed everyone, there would never be death and the Bible says, 'It is appointed unto men once to die.' It's an appointment we all must keep. I'm terribly sorry about your wife and wish I knew something I could do to ease your grief." Her voice trembled with emotion. Dave knew she was deeply touched by his wife's death, for he had noticed how she had taken her patient to heart. Though she was a wonderful nurse, the sympathy she now offered failed to console his broken heart.
He dropped into a chair and gave vent to his pent-up emotions which soon turned into hysteria. "I can't live without her. She's all I've got in the world."
Pushing their own sorrow aside, the Blakes tried to comfort Dave. "We understand how you feel, Dave," Mr. Blake said as he stroked Dave's arm, "but we've got to learn to live without her. Believe me, it will get easier with time."
"Let's try to face it one day at a time, Dave," added Mrs. Blake brokenly.
Dave found no comfort in their words. They held no meaning for him. His mind refused any thought of acceptance. "Oh, Doc! Couldn't you have done something more?" he lashed out at the doctor.
"Sorry, Son, but we did everything that was humanly possible. I wish we could have done more."
Miss Taylor realized her time of usefulness was over. As she started reluctantly toward the door, she turned and looked at Dave. "If I don't see you any more, Dave, remember I will be praying for you."
He nodded but did not answer. As far as he was concerned, his world had ended and neither her prayers nor sympathy could help him.
The Blakes turned to leave as Dr. Shepherd took Dave by the arm. "Come, we must go now," he urged.
"No, no, Doctor, I can't leave her. Oh, Carol," he moaned brokenheartedly.
"Dave, you cannot help matters by staying here. Come on and go with me."
Dave arose, leaning heavily on the doctor as he fumbled with his crutches. There was no strength in him.
"Oh, Doc, I'll never see her again. I can't bear it." he stumbled and fell against the bed and as he touched her still, lifeless form, he became dizzy and felt himself sinking to the floor.
When he awoke, he found himself on a hospital bed. An orderly was standing by his bedside and a nurse was checking his blood pressure.
"What am I doing here?" he questioned as he tried to rise.
"Just relax, Mr. Maddox. Dr. Shepherd wants you to rest a few days. You've been through quite an ordeal."
"Oh, no, I won't." With much effort he sat up in bed. “Let me out of here. I'm going to Carol."
"Be careful, Sir. Remember your bad leg," the orderly cautioned.
"Hand me my clothes and my crutches. I'm getting out of here." Dave's voice was becoming louder.
"Please, Mr. Maddox, just lie back and relax," the nurse begged. "The undertaker has already come for the body of your wife."
"Then I'm going to the funeral parlor," he stated emphatically. "Either you hand me my clothes, or I'll get up and get them myself."
Looking helplessly at the nurse, the orderly asked in low tones, "What am I to do?"
"Mr. Maddox, won't you please rest until tomorrow and then you will feel more like attending the funeral?" she pleaded with him.
"I am going right now even if I have to go in this hospital garb," he protested wildly.
"Will you wait just long enough for me to call the doctor?"
"Call whomever you will but hand me my clothes."
Shrugging his shoulders in a helpless gesture, the orderly started for the clothes closet as the nurse left to call the doctor. Dialing Dr. Shepherd's number, she related the episode to him. "Go ahead and let him go. There's nothing more we can do," Dr. Shepherd instructed. "He is in an awful condition, emotionally, and needs to be kept quiet, but we cannot force him to let us help him. Poor boy," he added in a compassionate voice, "I wonder what will become of him. He doesn't seem to have any family of his own to care for him."
Upon returning to Dave's room, the nurse found him dressed and ready to leave.
"Do take care of yourself, Mr. Maddox, and be sure to call us if we can assist you in any way," she said kindly.
"Will you call a taxi for me?" was his only reply.
The funeral was a nightmare for Dave. Back in their home town, Carol was buried in the little country cemetery by the church in which they had been married such a short time before. As Dave stood at the foot of his wife's grave, he felt that part of him had been buried with the one he loved. He felt like an old man at twenty-one.
"Son, feel welcome to come to us any time and stay as long as you like. Our home is always open to you," Dad Blake invited as they turned to leave the grave which held the one so dear to both of them.
"Thanks, Dad, but I kept the room near the hospital. I still have to see the doctor several times with this leg. I'll be going back there for now." Dave turned away from his father-in-law's compassionate look. He k
new he would never accept the invitation because of the many memories at the Blake home. Even now he could see her standing under the apple tree with the wind blowing through her beautiful red hair. She was laughing up at him. "Carol," he had said, "I have a secret. Would you like me to share it with you'?"
"Sure, Dave. What is it'?" she had asked.
"Are you sure you want to know'?" he had further teased her.
"Of course, Dave."
"It will be a great surprise."
"I like surprises."
"Then, here's my secret. Someone has stolen my heart. "
Her merry laughter that had followed had caused Dave's heart to beat faster. He remembered yet how her eyes had twinkled as they looked into his and how cute she had looked with those dimples and that freckled nose. Pretending to be surprised, she had said, "Dave, I can't imagine such a thing. Do I know her?"
"I'll give you three guesses."
"You'll have to describe her," she had said wrinkling her little freckled nose.
"Let's see!" Dave had smiled at her as he pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. "She's a redhead, about five feet, two inches tall and cute as a bug in a rug."
"I could never guess. You'll have to tell me."
"Her first name is Carol and her last name will soon be Maddox. Oh, Carol," he had added tenderly as he put his arms about her and drew her close, "Three more months, just three more months until you're Mrs. Dave Maddox. I'm too happy for words."
"I'm happy, too, Dave, and so glad I stole your heart."
He flinched and shook his head as the scene was relived in his memory. How could he ever live over this? If he could not find relief somehow, he felt his heart would burst.
"We'll see you later, Dave." It was Mr. Blake again, bringing him back to reality. Dad Blake placed his arm about Dave's shoulder, gave him a squeeze, and whispered close to his ear, "Don't do anything drastic, Son. Time will somehow heal. It has healed many broken hearts in the past and it will do it again."
Dave looked at him piteously but could find no words to answer. Mrs. Blake put her arms about him and hugged him to her. There was nothing either could say for their grief was mutual. They had both lost one very dear to their hearts.
"Good-bye, folks," was all Dave could mumble.
"Won't you let us drive you to the bus depot?" Mr Blake offered.
"Thanks, Dad, but I've already made arrangements for a taxi." Dave wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible for he was tortured by their presence, knowing Carol was a part of them.
Once inside the cab on his way to the bus depot, he gave vent to his feelings and cried hysterically.
"Whatsa matta, Sir?" the cabbie asked. "Can I do anything for you?"
Dave felt ashamed but could not control himself. He made no attempt to answer the cab driver thinking it was none of his business.
When they stopped at the bus station, he handed the driver a five dollar bill. "Keep the change," he instructed.
"But the fare is only two and a quarter, Sir. With your trouble you may need it. Here, let me give you your change."
But Dave had picked up his crutches and gone.
"Poor guy! I wonder what's ailing him," Dave heard the cabbie say aloud. "That funeral he attended musta been somebody mighty dear to him."
It was late when Dave entered his room, closed the door, and fell across the bed. Though exhausted, both physically and mentally, he was unable to relax.
"Mr. Dave." A light knock was heard on his door. It was Amy. He wished she would go away, as he did not care to see anyone, but she called again, "Mr. Dave."
"What is it, Amy?"
"I've brought you something to eat," she replied.
"Thanks, Amy, but I don't want anything to eat."
"Please, Mr. Dave, you're going to be ill if you don't eat.
Here's some good vegetable soup. It will help give you strength. "
Reluctantly, Dave got up and opened the door.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Dave, of your bereavement." The tears streaming down her cheeks touched Dave's heart. Amy was truly sorry and was trying to do something to express her sympathy and relieve his suffering.
"Thanks so much, Amy, I appreciate your kindness so very much."
"Will you promise to eat it, Mr. Dave?"
"I don't think I can swallow it."
"Will you please try?"
"I'll try, Amy."
Back in his room, he removed the foil and for Amy's sake, attempted to eat the steaming hot soup. It was no use, he could not get it down. He replaced the foil, set it in the refrigerator, and lay back across the bed. Once again he visualized the scene at the grave he had left only a short time before. He felt numb with grief. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, his thoughts were blotted out by the blessedness of sleep.