Unanswered Prayers

Eva saw his eyes close and the color drain from his face. An icy, unaccountable fear swept through her like a cold Panhandle wind.

“Of course,” she heard him say. “We’re on our way.” He hung up the receiver and met Eva’s worried eyes with a bleak gaze.

“What?” she cried softly.

“That was Maggie. Rick Farmer just shot Rio.”

Less than thirty minutes later, Maggie found herself pacing the waiting room of Crystal Creek’s small hospital, wiping periodically at the tears she couldn’t stop, praying incessantly and waiting for some word about Rio’s condition. Jeremy, his wife, Tess, and Elena, Rio’s housekeeper and friend, were all out in the hallway, wild with grief and coping with their sorrow and worry in their own way.

Dr. Purdy had called in Dr. Dekker, the new Indonesian doctor, who, having just put in a fair share of time in one of Austin’s busy emergency rooms during his residency, had more skill with gunshots than the country doctor did. There was a faction in town that was prejudiced against the young doctor, but Nate said Sonny Dekker was “sharp as a tack,” and the old doctor’s stamp of approval was all Maggie needed.

How could something like this have happened? she asked herself again. How could she have been holding Rio in her arms one minute and the next find him laid out on the living room floor with a gunshot wound?

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to hold back a sob. Why had Rick done it?

He’d said he hadn’t.

But he was holding the gun, and he’d apologized over and over.

“Oh, Rio’“ she cried aloud.

“Are you all right?”

With tears running unchecked down her face, Maggie whirled. Jeremy stood in the doorway, red-eyed and disheveled. Funny. She’d never noticed before how much alike the two brothers looked. She felt another rush of tears and did her best to blink them away. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

Jeremy drew her into his arms. As Maggie clung to him for comfort, it occurred to her that he’d matured a lot in the past few months, growing into a strong, dependable man, just like his brother.

“Why, Jeremy?” she asked, choking on a sob. “Why would Rick hurt Rio after all he’s done to try and help?”

“They quarreled this afternoon.” Jeremy’s voice was heavy with finality.

Maggie drew back and looked at Jeremy with teardrenched eyes. “Quarreled? About what?”

“We were moving that pen full of broncs, and Babydoll got the horses riled up. Rick got thrown. He was pretty mad and tried to take it out on the dog.”

“Oh, no!”

“Rio wasn’t too happy,” Jeremy said.

Knowing how attached Rio was to the dog and how much he loved animals in general, Maggie figured Jeremy’s comment was an understatement.

“When I rode up to see what was going on, Rio was giving Rick a pretty good tongue-lashing. He took him home a little while later.”

Maggie should have been furious with Rick. She should be hating him for what he’d done. Instead, she was confused by his behavior.

“But would Rick shoot Rio because he chewed him out? That seems so…I don’t know…drastic. Like the punishment didn’t fit the crime.”

“In the environment Rick’s grown up in, I imagine that’s a way of life.”

“Probably,” Maggie conceded, but even with the picture so vivid in her mind of him standing there with the gun in hand, she still had difficulty reconciling the action. “It’s just hard for me to imagine Rick hurting the only person in town who was willing to give him a chance.”

Jeremy took her hands in a firm grip. “It’s a crying shame the way people make judgments about a person based on hearsay and heredity instead of taking the time to see what that person is really like.”

The gleam of sorrow in his eyes told Maggie that Jeremy was thinking about Rio. Fortunately, Rio had enough strength of character to rise above those who condemned him. If only Rick could have found that same strength, instead of sinking to the depths everyone expected of him.

“I know it’s hard to believe Rick did it, but we can’t overlook the fact that he was holding the gun and saying he was sorry,” Jeremy said.

“I know,” Maggie said. “But, it’s such a waste. It isn’t like Rick is a real loser or anything. Mama remembers him from school. She says he’s very smart, but that his dad sabotages his schooling every chance he gets.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid if he doesn’t get an education, he’ll wind up another statistic.”

“I hate to break it to you, Maggie,” Jeremy said, “but he already is.”

The gentle reminder brought a picture of Rio lying on the floor, his blood covering them both. “I guess so.”

Wearing a sad smile, Jeremy gave her a quick hug. “It’s just like you to be as worried about Rick as you are about Rio.”

“Not quite as worried,” Maggie said with a wry twist of her lips. “But it does bother me. And I’m disappointed, I guess. I grew up under the old ‘do unto others’ dictum, and it’s always a disappointment to me when it doesn’t work the way it should.”

Jeremy’s smile was edged with bitterness. “Problem is that a lot of people today figure it’s ‘do unto others before they do unto you.”‘

Maggie wondered if Jeremy was thinking about his father. “It isn’t a very good testimony for the human race, is it?”

“Margaret?”

At the sound of the deep, mellifluous voice, Maggie looked up and saw her parents standing in the doorway of the waiting room. Her mother’s plump, still-beautiful face wore a frown, and her father’s beloved features held the peaceful, steadfast look they always did…as if he’d figured out the answers to all life’s problems and was satisfied with the solutions.

Maggie felt a twinge of envy that she squelched immediately. He’d be the first to tell her that if she’d just turn things over to God she would have that same attitude, that same contentment. Young people, he was fond of saying, were always trying to do it themselves instead of asking for help from the one source that would never let them down. All Maggie knew was that even when she wasn’t sure God was listening, she’d always been able to count on her dad.

“Daddy!” she cried, flying into Howard Blake’s arms. The familiarity of his embrace gave her a sense of security, a feeling that now everything would be all right.

Howard hugged her for a long moment and, pressing a kiss to her forehead, relinquished her to her mother’s gentle, floral-scented embrace.

“How is he?” Eva said, brushing Maggie’s hair away from her pale cheeks.

Maggie shrugged. “You know how doctors are. They tell you as little as possible. Dr. Purdy called in that new doctor…Dr. Dekker.”

“I’ve heard he’s very good,” Eva said. “I guess there’s nothing we can do but wait and pray, then, is there?”

“Do you think that will help?” Maggie asked a bit acerbically.

“Margaret Langley!” Eva chided in a shocked voice. “How can you ask such a thing?”

Tears pooled in Maggie’s eyes. “Because I loved Greg, and I asked God to spare his life, and he died, anyway.” She swiped at her eyes almost angrily. “I still remember how I felt after Greg died. Empty…and lost. Like I was in limbo, just waiting for something to happen.”

Eva’s agonized gaze sought Howard’s. He closed his eyes, feeling his daughter’s pain as if it were his own.

“I tried to remember you and Daddy reminding me that the Bible says everything works for good to those who love God, and when I finally met Rio, I thought that finding happiness with him was what God really wanted for me.”

“I believed that, too,” Eva said. “I still believe it.”

“Then why is Rio in surgery about to die?” Maggie railed. “What kind of loving God would put a person through this pain twice?”

“A God who knows what’s best for us, Maggie,” Howard interjected in a soothing tone. “One who won’t put more on us than we can bear.”

“Spare me, Daddy!” Maggie said, her face contorted with anger. “I’ve heard it all before, and let me tell you…I’m not so sure I believe it anymore.”

Without waiting for her father to reply, Maggie swept past her parents and Jeremy into the hallway.

Eva’s tortured gaze followed her daughter’s retreating form and then moved from Jeremy’s pale features to Howard. Mumbling something about checking on Maggie, Jeremy slipped from the room.

An hour later, Nate Purdy entered the waiting room accompanied by Dr. Sunarjo Dekker. Dr. Purdy’s craggy face was lined with fatigue. Even the younger doctor’s face held weariness, Maggie thought.

Nate made the introductions, and let the younger man do the talking.

“How is he?” Maggie asked, clutching her mother’s hand.

“He’s stable,” Sonny Dekker said. “The bullet passed through your husband’s lung and exited his back. What we had was pneumothorax of the left lung, caused by what we call a sucking chest wound.”

“What’s pneumothorax?” Jeremy asked.

“Collapsed lung. What happens when there’s a tear in the lung is that the vacuum that normally surrounds the lung fills with air and causes collapse. With a sucking chest wound, air is drawn into the lung with every indrawn breath and foamy blood and air are sprayed out with exhalation. Whoever thought to use the gauze and petroleum jelly may have saved his life.”

“It was Maggie,” Jeremy said.

“What do you do with a collapsed lung?” Maggie asked.

“We insert a chest tube into the pleural space between the chest wall and the lung. The tube is hooked to suction that removes the air and blood trapped inside. Once that’s removed, the lung can reexpand. Considering the amount of blood he lost, I have to say that he came through the surgery pretty well. We’ll be keeping him in ICU for the time being.”

“But he’s going to be all right?” Maggie demanded.

“Rio’s condition is serious, Maggie,” Nate Purdy said. “But he’s strong as a bull and he’s a fighter.” He gave her an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and try to get some rest?”

“Can I see him?”

Nate looked at Dr. Dekker, who nodded. “Just you for now, Maggie. And only for a couple of minutes. In the morning two at a time can go in for five minutes every three hours while he’s in ICU.”

“Then I’m staying the night,” Maggie said, her voice brooking no argument. “I have to be here to see him.”

“Somehow I thought you might say that,” Nate said with a smile. “I’ll have one of the nurses round up some pillows and blankets. You’ll need them before morning.”

While Maggie was being ushered into the intensive care unit, Eva went looking for her husband. It didn’t take a sleuth to figure out where she’d find him. He was seated in the hospital’s small chapel, his hands clasped together between his legs, his head bent as if he were staring at the floor. Anyone else might think he was deep in thought; Eva knew he was deep in prayer.

She stopped just inside the door, unwilling to interrupt whatever conversation her husband might be having with God. In a matter of seconds, almost as if he sensed her presence, he lifted his head, pushed himself to his feet and turned to face her. He looked older than he had earlier in the evening, when they’d joked about her Frederick’s of Hollywood outfit.

Eva fought the sudden urge to give in to the tears that had threatened ever since she’d heard the news about Rio. The only thing that had kept her dry-eyed was the knowledge that Maggie needed her strength.

“Hello, love,” Howard said with a crooked quirk of his lips as he motioned for Eva to join him. “How’s Rio?”

Eva negotiated the narrow aisle. “Out of surgery and in ICU. He has a collapsed lung, but he’s doing as well as can be expected.”

Howard nodded and patted the padded cushion beside him. They sat down, and Howard circled her shoulders with his arm, leaning his cheek against her hair. “How’s Margaret?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“I’m worried about her.”

“So am I,” he confessed.

“It’s almost as if she blames God for what’s happened instead of Rick.”

“I know,” Howard said. “I heard.”

Eva drew back and looked into Howard’s beloved face. Tears glistened in her eyes as she whispered, “I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu, Howard. Like history is repeating itself.”

Howard nodded, his eyes mirroring the pain he felt at knowing that Maggie’s circumstances had resurrected old sorrows, old heartaches for Eva.

“That could be me in there,” she said, her voice breaking. “It is me…in a way. It would take a fool not to see how similar her situation is to mine back before we got married.”

“I know.”

Neither spoke for long moments. Eva was the first to break the silence. “We’ve got to tell her, Howard. She’s in so much pain.”

Though he’d suspected as much, Howard’s eyes filled with alarm. “Evie…We promised we’d never tell.”

“I have to!” Eva cried in a soft, desperate voice. “Didn’t you hear her say how she felt in limbo after Greg died…as if she was waiting for something and didn’t know what it was? I know exactly how she feels. I was going through the same thing the day you came knocking on my door.” In spite of her pain, a tremulous smile curved her lips. “It took me a long time to realize that what I was waiting for was you.”

Howard’s fingertips caressed her cheek with infinite tenderness. Eva took his hand in both of hers. Their fingers meshed tightly.

“Don’t you see, Howard? I have to tell Maggie not to give up and not to lose faith. Telling her about me—about us—will help her to understand that despite what’s happened to Rio, something wonderful might be just around the corner.”

Howard’s troubled eyes clung to his wife’s. “It might change how she feels about us.”

“It might,” she agreed. “But I’m willing to take that chance. If it helps her get through this, and strengthens her faith, it’ll be worth the risk.”

Howard shook his head and gave her a wry smile. “If you want to convince her not to give up, can’t you just tell her the story of Job?”

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, a glimmer of humor twinkled in Eva’s eyes. “I don’t think it would be the same, honey.”

He carried her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. His eyes were troubled. “I just don’t want you to be hurt. God knows you’ve had enough hurt to last a lifetime.”

“I want to do this, Howard.”

He closed his eyes. Finally, he spoke. “Sing to me, Evie.”

“Sing to you?” she asked, stunned by the request.

He nodded. “Sing ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’“

“How can you want me to sing when our daughter is in so much pain and Rio is lying in there—” Her voice broke again, and she swallowed hard.

“I’ve been praying nonstop since Jeremy called. God knows what’s in my heart. Sing. You sing like an angel.”

Eva smiled around her tears and began to sing about peace like a river and sorrows rolling like sea billows, her clear soprano voice echoing sweetly throughout the room. When she got to the part about all being well with her soul, no matter what came her way, a look of peace came over Howard’s features.

Eva clung to his hand and prayed with all her heart that it would be so with Maggie.

When Eva left Howard, she went in search of her daughter. Maggie was walking the hallway, examining the framed pictures on the wall as if they were some sort of costly art. Though she appeared to be engrossed, Eva knew her daughter’s thoughts were far away.

“Are you all right?” she asked, putting her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. Maggie nodded. “How’s Rio?”

Maggie turned her tortured gaze to her mother’s. “He’s so pale and still,” she said in a strained voice. “And he won’t answer me when I talk to him.”

“I imagine the anesthesia still has him out cold.”

“I guess.”

Eva sighed. In some ways Maggie’s lifelessness was more disturbing than her earlier anger. Anger could be channeled into something constructive. Passivity left nowhere to go.

“Maggie,” Eva began, “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine!” Maggie said in a sudden spurt of irritation. “It’s Rio you should be worried about.”

“I am worried about Rio, but I can’t help worrying about you, too. It isn’t like you to be so negative about everything you’ve been brought up to believe.”

Maggie looked at Eva, her eyes sparking with renewed anger. “How do you know whether it’s like me or not?” she challenged. “I haven’t been your innocent little Maggie in a long time. Face it, Mama, you don’t know me anymore.”

The words stung, but Eva was determined not to let on how much. “Maybe I don’t,” she said, “but contrary to the impression you give to others, you aren’t the kind of person who just lies down and lets life run over her. You’re a fighter, Maggie. You always were in your own quiet way. So why are you giving up now?”

“I’m not!”

“Well, it looks that way to me. Instead of looking for the best, you’re anticipating the worst. Instead of putting your trust in God, you’re turning your back on him and the strength he can give you.”

“I haven’t seen much of his loving care lately,” Maggie said.

Eva thought of the happiness Maggie and Rio had shared the past few months, of Rio’s slow but steady success in getting his business going. Maggie’s success in her work and the community’s gradual acceptance of Rio. How could she not believe in God’s loving care when her life was a walking testimony to his love?

Eva’s patience with her daughter snapped. “Oh, stop wallowing in self-pity, Margaret! You’re behaving as if you’re the only one in the world with a tragedy in her life.”

Maggie looked as if Eva had slapped her. Memories of their many battles during Maggie’s high school days rushed through Eva’s mind. As much as she loved her only daughter, they’d butted heads often in the past.

“What’s the old Indian saying about not judging a man until you’ve walked a mile in his moccasins?” Maggie said sarcastically. “It’s easy to be holier-than-thou when you have a nice cushy lifestyle, a wonderful husband who’s crazy about you and two healthy children who never gave you a moment’s worry. You’ve never lost a man you love, so don’t come preaching to me when you don’t have the slightest idea what I’m going through.”

At the end of her speech and her temper, Maggie turned away, intent on leaving. Eva grabbed her daughter’s arm in a tight grip. Maggie glared at her, her eyes bright with tears and fury.

“I do know what you’re going through,” Eva said.

“Oh, really?” Maggie’s face wore a look of patent disbelief.

“Really.”

“Did you and Daddy have a few little spats those early years, is that it?”

Eva’s lips tightened. “Sit down, Margaret,” she commanded in a firm voice. “There are some things we need to talk about—woman to woman. Some things you should have been told long ago.”

Even through her outrage and distress, Maggie heard the serious note underlying her mother’s voice. Her irritation fled. “What sort of things?” she asked, her voice wary…almost fearful.

“Things about me and your father and a baby I had before you and Ronald came along…”

Perhaps thirty minutes had passed since Howard’s talk with his wife. He stood staring out of the waiting room window at the light-flooded parking lot, wondering how things were going with Eva and Maggie, and whether Eva’s confession and story of regained faith would make any difference to how Maggie dealt with her situation.

He drew a deep breath. Even if it made no difference in Maggie’s feelings, he supposed she should be told the truth. She had a right to know what her parents were like in their youth. She should know that he had loved Eva for as long as he could remember.

And, he conceded, it might help ease some of the concerns about her own marriage to know that her parents hadn’t always seen eye to eye…that the young aspiring actress he’d married hadn’t always been the perfect preacher’s wife, and that their vastly different upbringings and ways of approaching life had caused some problems during their life together. Problems they’d overcome with love and God’s help.

Howard sighed. He knew he was fooling himself. There was no doubt the stories could help Maggie. His real concern was how breaking a forty-three-year-old silence would affect his wife.

Bowing his head, Howard prayed that Eva’s decision was the right one, that she would find the right words to tell Maggie the truth. That Maggie would forgive.

God answers prayers in three ways, Howard. Yes, no and wait a while.

Howard recalled his father’s words from his childhood. He realized all too well that people often questioned God’s wisdom and sometimes turned their backs on him when the answer to their prayers was a “no” and they so desperately wanted it to be “yes.”

Maggie had a right to know the truth so that she could see that God was in control, and that sometimes unanswered prayers were a blessing in disguise.

Chapter Three

April 1951

Dallas was way too big, Howard Blake thought as he surveyed the bustling traffic and the towering buildings whose windows flung the day’s last rays of sunshine into his eyes. As the old adage went, it was a nice place to visit, but he wouldn’t want to live there. A three-day national church convention was plenty long enough for a country boy like him.

Howard had graduated from Baylor at midterm, just in time to step into his retiring father’s shoes as minister of the church in Crystal Creek. It was a position he’d always aspired to, even though it had necessitated his leaving home for four years. Growing up in the small Hill Country town, he had been predisposed to attend Baylor, located in Waco, instead of a smaller college in the large city of Dallas. Howard could contend with the larger university better than he could handle the chaos of big-city life.

Still, when he was urged by his new congregation to attend the convention, there had been no way he could decline without making waves. Following in his father’s footsteps was no easy task, and Howard was well aware that while he was still in the “honeymoon” period with church members, both he and his actions were under constant scrutiny.

Just twenty-two himself, he knew the younger folk liked him. High school and college students could identify with him better than with his father, whom they considered ancient at sixty-three. The younger Blake represented exciting new ideas, a fresh approach, a more modem outlook—within the confines of church doctrine, of course.

The elderly members weren’t so sure. They liked the old, familiar ways and had grown accustomed to the tenor and content of Thaddeus Blake’s sermons. There was also a small contingent who looked down on Howard because he hadn’t joined up to fight in Korea, even though, as an only son—an only child—he’d been deferred from active duty.

The over-forty members regarded Howard warily, as if they expected him to suddenly denounce all they considered holy and run off with the church secretary…and the weekly contribution. After almost four months, Howard still felt as if he were living under some gigantic microscope, his every move monitored and judged by some unseen jury…which was why he’d smiled and assured the deacons that he’d be thrilled to attend the convention in Dallas.

He supposed the endeavor had been a success, but being cooped up for three days and contributing even a small part to the decision making that would shape his life and that of others was serious business. Howard was past ready for some quiet time…and a nice Texas-size steak in a good restaurant.

He planned to follow his meal with an early night and be ready to head back to the Hill Country at daybreak…unless he decided to look up Evalyn Carmichael, who was back in Texas—more specifically, Dallas—after spending the past two years in Hollywood, where she’d sought a career as an actress.