The Heart's Choice

“A doctor? That’ll be nice,” Tavia answered, not exactly sure what an ob/gyn did. She cast an embarrassed glance over her shabby jeans and her simple print shirt—clothes she’d bought at the Goodwill store. Rich parents, a new SUV, beautiful clothes. A good future ahead of them. This nice couple has it made and what do I have? Nothing. Absolutely nothing but bills I can’t pay and a lousy job I’m about to lose.

Adam flipped on the turn signal and moved back into the inside lane. “I sure hope you’ll be able to get someone to come after you soon.”

“I hope so, too.” Although Tavia was grateful for the ride, she knew she had no choice but to try to hitch another lift into Denver from wherever they’d leave her off. There really wasn’t anyone to call. Not anyone she trusted to show up, and she certainly didn’t have any money for a motel. The waitress she worked with at the café had three kids to support and didn’t even have a car. The woman who lived next door to her was probably too drunk to answer the phone. Her landlord was even less trustworthy than the man who’d let her out on the roadside. Her boss at the video store where she worked part-time was already on the verge of firing her. She’d never call him.

“You do have someone to call, don’t you?” Jewel prodded, noticing her hesitation.

“Ah—yeah. I’ll just keep calling that woman I tried to reach on your cell phone until she gets home. You can just drop me off anywhere. I’ll be fine.”

Jewel took off her seat belt to pick up her purse from the floor. She pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Here, take this. You’ll need money for the pay phone and to get a bite to eat while you’re waiting.”

Tavia ignored her offer and turned her head away. “No, I couldn’t. You’ve already done more for me than most people would.”

“I insist.”

“Yeah,” Adam chimed in, “go ahead and take it. You’ll need it.”

Tavia was tempted to reach for it. She really did need it, but pulled her hand away. “Only if you’ll let me mail it back to you when I get my next paycheck.”

Jewel reached the money out to her again. “I have a better idea. Next time you see someone in need, you give them a ten-dollar bill and we’ll call it square. Okay? You can even put it in the Salvation Army pot at Christmas if you’d rather.”

Tavia stared at the bill. No doubt there would be a long-distance charge if she could figure out someone to call. Smiling, she accepted it, folded it carefully and stuck it into her pocket.

Beck Brewster gave a big yawn as he leaned back in the seat and stretched first one long arm, then the other. He’d been on the road for nearly seven hours now and his back was beginning to feel it. He set the brake on his eighteen-wheeler, grabbed his coffee mug and climbed down from the cab.

Another eighteen-wheeler, much like his, pulled into the Colorado rest-stop parking lot and swung into the stall beside Beck’s. The driver gave him a wave, then shoved open his door and dropped down to the pavement. “Hiya, Brewster. Didn’t expect to run into you today. How goes it?”

“Hey, yourself, Matt. Where ya headed?”

The man shielded his eyes from the brilliant afternoon sun with one hand. “Littleton. Where you headed?”

Beck pulled a pack of gum from his pocket, took out a stick, and offered the pack to the man. “Headed back to Denver. Hope to drop my load and be in my own bed by ten o’clock tonight. Boy, I hate sleeping in motels. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Of course, sleeping in the cab is even worse.”

“I’m having a bit of trouble with my windshield wipers.” Matt shook his head with a laugh as he gestured upward. “But from the looks of that cloudless sky, I don’t think it’ll be a problem to make it on into Littleton without them.”

Beck nodded and glanced skyward. “You’re probably right. Sure hope I make it okay.”

“Oh? Why?”

Beck placed his mug on the step and began examining the brake lines. “Nothing, I hope. I just have this strange feeling. I hate going through these mountains with a full load. I always worry about the brakes holding. And the noise those Jake brakes make gives me the willies. Guess I’m a natural worrier.”

“Bet you carry a rabbit’s foot, too.”

Beck shook his head. “I didn’t say I was superstitious, just a worrier. There’s a big difference.”

“Well, unfortunately, we have to depend on the guys who do the maintenance on these babies, but they seem to know their job. I sure wouldn’t be much help to them. I barely know a flywheel from a crankshaft,” Matt said. “I need to hit the walking trail and stretch my legs a bit before I leave. The old bones ain’t what they used to be, and I wanna rinse out my mug and get some pop from the pop machine.”

Beck gave the man a mock salute. “Then I’ll see you around. I’d wait until you’re ready to go and follow you on down but I wanna keep on schedule. Drive safe.”

“You, too. I’ll probably see you next week.”

“Yep. Catch you later.”

The two men shook hands, then Beck headed off.

“Boy, I hate driving through these mountains.”

Jewel smiled at Adam. “I’d offer to drive, but I know he wouldn’t let me.”

“Hey, even though I’ve driven this road all my life, I still worry about it.”

Jewel poked Adam’s ribs playfully. “I don’t know why. You’re a great driver.”

Adam gave her a boyish smile. “Keep that flattery coming!”

“Your ring is beautiful,” Tavia told Jewel as the woman relaxed her hand across the seat back. She’d never seen such a beautiful ring, or such large stones.

Jewel’s face beamed with pride. “It was Adam’s mother’s engagement ring. His dad bought her a new set for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. So when they learned we were engaged, they wanted me to have her engagement ring.”

“We’d planned to come home this past Christmas, but the day we were to leave Jewel came down with the flu and I had to come on and leave her behind. I knew it would kill my folks if I didn’t spend Christmas with them. I brought Mom’s ring back with me and gave it to her.”

“You’re so lucky to have found each other,” Tavia said sincerely as she looked from one to the other. They were a handsome couple, and it was obvious they adored one another. She’d never had anyone look at her the way Adam looked at Jewel. And she probably never would. The kind of guys she met were definitely not the romantic type. How had she ever let that creep talk her into going for a drive up in the mountains with him? She should’ve known he’d put the make on her. The crumb-bum. Well, she’d learned her lesson. Next time, she’d be more careful.

Jewel slipped the ring off her finger. “Wanna try it on?”

Tavia stared at her in amazement. “Me? Try on your ring? Goodness, no!”

“Oh, come on. It’ll make your hand look really pretty.”

Tavia backed away and folded her arms over her chest. “I couldn’t. With my luck, I might lose it or something.”

“In the car?” Jewel let out a chuckle. “Even if you dropped it, I’m sure we could find it! Here, try it on. I promise it’ll make you feel like a queen.”

“I—I don’t know—”

“Ah, go on,” Adam cajoled. “That stubborn woman of mine won’t give you a minute’s peace if you don’t try it on. She even had the maid who cleaned our rooms try that ring on.”

“Well—if you’re sure—” Tavia reached out, took the sparkling ring from Jewel’s hand and slipped it onto her finger, sure this was the closest she’d ever come to wearing such a beautiful and expensive ring.

Jewel gave her a big smile. “See? Didn’t I tell you?”

Tavia held out her hand, gazing at the huge stones. “Your engagement ring is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. You’re right! It does make you feel like a queen.”

“You should have seen Adam propose.” Jewel jabbed at her fiancé’s shoulder. “He was so cute. He—”

“Hang on!” Adam’s face suddenly grew serious. “There’s a big eighteen-wheeler coming up fast behind us. I hope the guy’s smart enough not to try to pass us on this curve.”

Chapter Two

Beck hated this stretch of road. The grade at this point through the Rockies was exceptionally steep. He glanced at his watch. No trouble, he’d make his deadline in plenty of time.

Noticing an SUV in front of him, the fancy top-of-the-line kind with leather seats, big tires and a little pickup bed in the back, he smiled. Instead of numbers, the license tag read Adams-Toy. Pretty expensive toy, I’d say! He eased down on the brake.

But nothing happened.

What’s wrong, Baby? The dependable truck he’d been driving for the past three years didn’t respond. A feeling of panic crept through him and he hit the brakes again. Not too hard. From his years of experience, he knew if he pressed them too suddenly they might lock and that could spell disaster. Ignoring his efforts, the truck continued to move forward as if it had a mind of its own, its immense weight propelling it onward faster and faster as it descended the hill. His heart quickened with fear and trepidation as a cold sweat dampened his forehead. God, do something! Please do something!

The sudden blaring of the truck’s air horn caused all eyes to turn in its direction.

“I think the guy’s lost his brakes!” Adam gasped, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Terror seized Tavia’s heart as she watched the on-coming truck through the rear window. “He’s going to hit us! I know he is!”

“Adam! Pull off the road and let him by!” Jewel’s shrill voice echoed through the inside of the truck.

“I’m trying!” Adam screamed back, “but the embankment is too steep! We’ll flip over!”

Tavia wanted to watch, to make sure Adam would be able to get off the road in time, but she couldn’t. Her eyes were fixed on the rapidly approaching truck, sure they were all going to die.

Beck geared down, but the truck continued to barrel forward, ever closer to the SUV.

He’d lost control.

Forty tons of steel hurtled forward of its own volition like a heat-seeking missile, and there was nothing he could do about it but watch and pray.

Beck stared through the windshield at the fancy SUV just seconds ahead of him on the road. I sounded my horn. Why doesn’t the guy pull over? Try to get out of my way? He has to see me!

He sounded the horn again then glanced at the radio. What good would calling for help do? No one could help him now. He was all alone in the cab with a full load, careening totally out of control. He knew there’d be an emergency turn-off ramp down the road a couple of miles. He’d seen it hundreds of times. If it wasn’t for that SUV in front of him, he might be able to make it there.

“Get out of the way! Move it!” he screamed out at the top of his lungs as he gave a long, loud blare of his horn and waved one arm frantically across the windshield. “Dear Lord! Don’t let those innocent people die because of me! Help me!” he shouted out.

It’s too late! The realization struck him like a sucker punch as they rounded a curve. “If I hit these people, they won’t have a chance!”

He watched in horror as the distance between the two vehicles lessened, feeling helpless to do anything now but continue to hope and pray—no more in control than a mere spectator.

The brakes still weren’t taking hold.

Even the Jake brake wasn’t helping.

“Move it!” Beck yelled as he flailed his hand wildly across the windshield again. “Go left! Cross the road! Take the ditch! Take the ditch!”

The SUV made a slight move to the left, then a wild swing to the right, as if the driver was out of control and trying to compensate, then left again, but it was too late.

Much too late.

Beck white-knuckled the steering wheel as the truck rammed into the back of the vehicle, shoving it along as if it were a mere toy. He wanted to close his eyes, to pretend it wasn’t happening, but it was and he had a front row seat. Within seconds, his bumper was crushing the SUV’s rear end as easily as if it were a paper cup. The ugly sounds of the screeching Jake brake and crunching metal were deafening to his ears.

Beck clutched the steering wheel, holding on for dear life as his huge bumper pushed the mass of twisted metal down the road ahead of him, unable to do anything but ride it out and blame himself for going ahead and driving the truck after he’d suspected a problem. Although he could no longer see the passengers, he knew they must be in total panic.

The SUV continued to veer to the right, coming closer and closer to the edge of the road and the guardrail that edged itself along the deep gorge, the truck’s heavy bumper twisting the vehicle’s rear end around to the front like a bump-em car at a carnival. Beck maintained his death-grip hold on the steering wheel as if just by squeezing it he could regain some sense of domination.

But it didn’t work.

He gulped in a breath of air and released one hand long enough to wipe the sweat from his eyes. That guardrail would never hold!

While casting a hurried glance into the rearview mirror, Beck felt the cab begin to shift. Just as he’d suspected, the deadweight of the loaded trailer began to drift sideways, pulling him with it. “Oh, God, no! Don’t let it jackknife!” he yelled out, knowing nothing short of a miracle from God Himself would keep this from happening. The SUV was in the truck’s clutches, going wherever the eighteen-wheeler wanted to take it.

“Oh, Lord, if they go over the side, they won’t have a chance! Don’t let it happen! Please! Don’t let it happen!”

A shower of sparks shot into the air as high as Beck’s windshield as the SUV smashed sideways into the guardrail, still being scooted along at breakneck speed by the cab’s massive bumper.

Beck gasped in horror as the passenger in the back seat was hurled through a window into the air, tossed along the edge of the guardrail like a rag doll being discarded by an uninterested child.

He felt bile rise in his throat and thought he was going to vomit. “No! No! This can’t be happening!” If only he could do something!

Watching in what felt like slow motion, what he’d feared the most happened.

The guardrail gave way.

With nothing to stop it, the battered and beaten SUV straddled the rocky ledge for only a few feet, then plummeted into the deep canyon below.

Though nearly out of his mind with grief and guilt, and taking time for only a quick glance over the canyon’s rim, Beck continued to fight the truck as it rapidly cascaded down the descending road toward the turnout.

Then, as if it had taken on a mind of its own, the truck made a sudden swerve to the left, crossed the road and headed for the rocky embankment. That was the last thing Beck remembered.

Tavia couldn’t breathe. Something was filling her mouth and nostrils. She felt herself drifting in a swirling pit of darkness. Where am I? Why can’t I breathe? My head is pounding. Black. Everything black. Am I dead? Am I in hell?

Slowly, she tried to open her eyes, but the intense pain made it impossible, so she lay motionless instead, trying to put things together, staring at the blackness and the wisps of light that seemed to come and go in fleeting, erratic shafts.

“I think she’s coming around,” a female voice said. “I’m almost certain she blinked.”

“I hope so. They’ve been so worried about her,” another answered.

She felt a hand on her arm, shaking her gently. Hurt. I hurt.

“Can you hear me? If you can hear me, try to open your eyes.”

Can’t open them. They hurt. My head hurts. My chest hurts. Arm.

“She’s got to be all right,” a man’s voice interjected. “I’m not sure that woman would make it if they lost her, too.”

I hear you, I hear you. Tavia wanted to shout out the words, but they wouldn’t come. Only darkness and those weird streaks of light. I hear you, she said within herself as she drifted off into the shadowy abyss of her mind and everything slowly faded away.

Beck checked the clock on the Boulder Community Hospital wall for the fifth time in the past five minutes. 8:30 p.m. He stared at his breakfast. He’d asked the nurse to leave his tray. He knew he ought to eat. His body would heal better with proper nutrition, but he wasn’t hungry. His every thought was centered on the woman on the third floor. When he’d asked the nurse to check on her, she had told him she was in a coma. What a tragedy. If only he could have avoided the accident. He’d never be able to forget her face. He’d even dreamt about it. Dreamt about those big, round blue eyes staring up at him through the rear window of that oversize SUV. Would he have that same dream every night for the rest of his life?

He’d lain awake for hours after that dream, reliving every second, wondering if he could have done anything differently to avoid that accident. But he’d been trained for situations like that. He’d done everything by the book. No one could have done more than he had. But if that were true, why was he carrying so much guilt?

He had to go to her room, to see for himself if she had awakened from the coma. After persuading one of the nurses to get him a wheelchair, Beck headed for the third floor.

He rolled his chair up beside her bed and sat staring at the small portion of the woman’s face that wasn’t covered by a bandage. Just seeing her arm secured by a removable cast, a tube going down her throat, and listening to the incessant beep, beep, beeping of the machines, made his heart fill with agony. Lord, spare this woman’s life. Don’t take her from these people who love her. They’ve already lost their son. Don’t take his fiancée, too! And, please, God, I need Your touch. Not for my broken leg or the cut on my head. Those will heal in time. I need You to take away this terrible feeling of guilt. I know Dr. and Mrs. Flint don’t hold me responsible for the death of their son—I did all I could—but, because of me and the failure of the brakes on my truck, their son is dead and this young woman is lying here in a coma!

“You’d better get back to your room,” the nurse on duty told him a half hour later as she entered the room and adjusted the drip on the IV. “You’ve been here longer than you should have, considering your own condition.”

He inched his chair closer to the bed, his eyes still riveted on its still occupant. “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

The nurse placed her hand on her hip, her voice showing concern. “You’ve been through a traumatic ordeal yourself, and you’ve still got quite a knot on that head. How is the leg doing?”

“I’m okay.” He gestured toward the bed. “It’s her I’m worried about.”

She gave him a frown. “We’re all worried about her.”

The woman lying in the bed suddenly let out a stifled cough, then seemed to gag. Beck lunged forward, not sure what he could do to help. Was she coming out of the coma?

The nurse put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. Folks do that sometimes when they’re in a coma. It’s nothing to worry about.”

He leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his forehead, for a moment nearly forgetting about the swelling and the stitches. “It’s a miracle she’s alive. If you’d seen that—”

She waggled a finger at him. “You have to try to put that out of your mind, Mr. Brewster. It’s not good for you to dwell on it. You need to concentrate on getting well.”

“Please, let me stay a little longer.” He shifted in the chair, his leg muscles reminding him of the excessive amount of stress and strain he’d put on them, pressing the pedal and trying to get the brakes to take hold.

She tilted her head with a scowl. “I shouldn’t let you stay.”

“I know, but she might wake up, so I want to be here.”

After a glance at her watch, she shrugged. “Oh, all right. Fifteen minutes more, but that’s it. Her family is down in the cafeteria. They’ll be back any time now. The doctor said only two visitors in the room at a time. No more.”

“I’ll leave when they get here.” Beck gave her a nod and a smile of thanks before turning his interest back to the still form of the injured woman. Gazing at what little of her face was showing, he wondered what she really looked like. It was hard to tell with all the bandages and that tube. He could barely see the color of her hair. Was she young? Old? Short? Tall? He’d caught only a brief glimpse of her as she’d stared up at him out that back window. All he could remember about her was the terror he’d seen in her eyes.

“Wake up. Please, wake up,” he pleaded as he reached out and carefully touched her arm. “If I could, I’d gladly trade places with you.”

Except for the constant beeping of the machines, the room remained silent.

He gently stroked her swollen hand. “I’m—I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me—”

“You can’t blame yourself, Beck.”

Startled, he pulled his hand away and turned toward the voice. “Hello, Dr. Flint. H—how’s your wife doing?”

The man raised a hand to his brow, his forehead creasing with concern. “Not so good. She’s not in good health anyway, and this whole thing hit her pretty hard. Both of us. She’ll be here in a minute. She stopped at the ladies’ room to freshen up.”

The quiver in the man’s voice went straight 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.”