Authors: Robin Jones Gunn
Tags: #Interpersonal relations—Fiction, #Decision making—Fiction, #Universities and colleges—Fiction, #Christian life Fiction
12
Christy and Matt pelted Katie with questions and yelled at her to slow down as they zoomed through town to the first freeway on-ramp. Katie said she didn't know much more than the half dozen words she had already offered them. She had been driving back to school from the nursery where she had gone to buy some fertilizer for her herbs. When she had moved into the slow lane to take the off-ramp to Rancho, she saw a vehicle that looked like Gus the Bus smashed up. As she drove by, she saw the paramedics wheeling someone into the ambulance.
“Was he moving?” Christy's fingers gouged into the passenger's seat.
“I couldn't tell. I just saw someone with blond hair being rolled on the gurney into the ambulance.” Katie started to cry. “I'm going right to the hospital.”
Christy's heart pounded fiercely as they entered the freeway. She heard herself say, “Calm down, Katie. Maybe it wasn't Todd. Maybe it was a VW bus that just looked like Gus. Maybe . . .”
But then she saw the tow truck on the other side of the
freeway and the smashed wreckage. Christy knew it was Gus. “Katie!” She covered her mouth in terror. “Katie, look!”
“Try to stay calm,” Matt said firmly as Katie kept the steering wheel steady. “The hospital is about five more exits down.”
“That stupid, stupid, stupid van!” Christy yelled. “Why didn't Todd trash that piece of junk years ago?” She closed her eyes and tried to swallow gulps of air.
“Pray!” Katie commanded. “Pray, you guys!”
Christy grabbed the seat cushion with both hands and squeezed with all her might as Matt began to pray aloud. Some of the terror siphoned from her shaking body. By the time Katie peeled into a parking space by the hospital's emergency entrance, Christy was trembling all over. She jumped out of the car and ran with Katie and Matt to the emergency room's desk.
Katie spoke first, articulating fairly well that they were checking to see if Todd Spencer had just been admitted after an auto accident.
The attendant went to check and left Christy and Katie holding each other and trembling.
“Yes,” the attendant said as she came back around to the counter. “Todd Spencer is here.”
“Is he . . .” Christy couldn't finish her sentence. She felt as if she might black out.
“How is he?” Katie kept a strong-armed grip around Christy's shoulders.
“I can't say.” The clerk sat down and handed Christy a clipboard. “If you'd like to sign in, I'll have a doctor speak with you as soon as possible. You'll have to wait over there.”
Christy had watched emergency-room shows on television, and somehow in her frantic state, she thought she
should be allowed to go in, the way the television camera went behind the closed doors and did a close-up of the patient's face. She wanted to hear the assessment immediately. She wanted to help them save his life.
“Come on,” Matt said. “We'll wait over here.” He directed Christy and Katie to the waiting area. The three of them sat on an empty couch in the corner. None of them spoke.
Christy felt her head throbbing as she closed her eyes and saw the sight of Gus all over again. The roof had been smashed down, the sides bashed in, and glass was everywhere.
Don't take him to heaven, God! Please, not yet! Let me at least tell him I love him. He hasn't heard me say it yet. Let me at least tell him.
She dissolved into a puddle of choking tears.
Katie braced Christy with her arm and kept murmuring, “Hold on. Keep praying. Keep praying.”
Both of them managed to calm down. Christy realized for the first time that other people were in the waiting room, and she felt self-conscious about them watching her. Matt had gone to the edge of the waiting room and nervously paced, watching for the doctor. Christy turned to stare out the window at the parking lot, not saying anything. Her silent prayers became more coherent. God was with her. She knew that. She could feel His peace calming her.
“We should call his dad,” Christy said. She knew Todd's phone number in Newport Beach by heart. She rose to find a phone. No one followed her, and she was glad because, for some reason, she thought she would be stronger if she was by herself. As she took each step toward the phone, she felt as if Jesus was walking right beside her.
The answering machine picked up the call, and Christy tried to calmly leave the appropriate information for Todd's dad. Her hand was shaking, and her voice quivered so much that she didn't know if she said everything correctly. If nothing else, his dad knew where they were.
Christy then called her parents. Her mom answered, and as soon as Christy heard her mom's voice, she cried again.
Matt had come over to the phone area. He placed his hand on Christy's shoulder and softly said, “Would you like me to talk to her?”
Christy nodded. The tears had drowned out her voice. Matt explained to Christy's mom that they were at the hospital waiting to hear from the doctor.
Christy could hear her mom's stunned voice through the receiver when she asked Matt, “Is Todd still alive?” For the first time Christy allowed the thought of his being dead to fully enter her mind. She backed up to the wall and pressed herself flat against it.
“We don't know yet,” Christy heard Matt tell her mom. Then he said, “Yes, I think it would be good if you could come.” He gave the name of the hospital and then hung up the phone.
“Is there anyone else we should call?” Matt asked.
“Uncle Bob,” Christy said in a small voice. “Uncle Bob would want to be here.” She dialed the number for Matt and let him relay all the information.
“Do you want to go back to the waiting room?” Matt asked.
Christy didn't answer him because she saw a doctor in a white coat heading in that direction. She hurried to catch up with him and asked if he had been taking care of Todd.
The doctor asked if they were friends or relatives.
“Friends,” Christy and Matt said in unison.
“We called his dad,” Christy said. “He wasn't there, but we left a message for him to come to the hospital.”
“I see.” The doctor looked at Matt and then at Christy. “I can tell you this. It's a miracle that he's alive.”
Christy reached for Matt's hand and squeezed it with all her might.
“The paramedics said they had never seen anyone come out of such an accident alive. Apparently the van rolled three times. The roof and the driver's door and the whole front end were smashed, they said.”
“Yes,” Christy said nervously. “I saw the van. But how is Todd?”
The doctor looked over the top of his glasses at Christy. “We've moved him upstairs to surgery. My guess is it will be several hours before we can give a thorough assessment. Until then, if you or anyone else you know can donate blood, it looks like he's going to need it. I'll let you know when we learn more.”
“Thank you,” Christy said. She realized how tightly she had been squeezing Matt's hand. She let it go. “We better tell Katie.”
The next two and a half hours floated past Christy in a haze. She found out from the nurse that Todd had type A blood. Christy also had type A, and so did Matt. Katie phoned a bunch of students at Rancho. Sierra and Wes arrived within twenty minutes and had eight other students with them.
They all donated their blood and then sat with Christy in the waiting room. Everyone had questions and speculations. Christy was beginning to feel irritated. They didn't have enough information to come up with so many solutions.
She knew everyone was trying to help, but she was glad when her parents arrived, along with her thirteen-year-old brother, David. The three of them looked sick with worry. Christy hugged them and cried on her dad's shoulder.
Two more students from Rancho came, and Christy began to shiver from the chill of the air-conditioned building.
“Will you go outside with me?” Christy's brother asked. He had been standing quietly to the side, listening while all the others discussed the bits of information they had. Christy was glad for the chance to warm up and followed her brother into the autumn afternoon.
“Christy, I'm scared.” David was five six, only an inch shorter than Christy. He had big hands and feet and thick, reddish hair like their father. He wore glasses and was now wiping away the embarrassing tears that he had managed to keep back in the waiting room.
“I am, too,” Christy said, wrapping her arms around her brother. During the year she had been away, she had communicated with David only when necessary. The wide span in their ages had kept them from ever being close. But at this moment, Christy felt more like David's sister than she ever had before.
David adored Todd. He had for the past five years. Often when Todd came to see Christy at her parents' house, Todd would end up spending just as much time with David as with Christy. Sometimes Christy thought Todd had been a better sibling to David than she had. “Do you think Todd is going to live?” David asked.
“I don't know.” Christy held her brother close. “I've been
praying. You heard how the doctor said it was a miracle he was alive.”
“If Todd dies, he's going to heaven,” David said. It was a statement, not a question. It sounded exactly the way Todd would have said it.
“Yes.”
“I know because he told me. He told me lots of times that I needed to give my life to God so that, when I died, I'd go to heaven, too, and then we'd be there together. Todd said we'd build a skateboard ramp if they didn't already have one.”
Christy swallowed hard and silently prayed,
Not yet, Father. Please. Don't take Todd yet. Let him build a few more skateboard ramps here first. Let him keep telling kids like my brother that they need to get their lives right with you.
“I never did it yet.” David pulled away and looked at Christy. “I never prayed and turned my life over to Jesus.”
Christy had been fourteen when she had realized she wasn't a Christian simply because she had grown up going to church with her family. This was the first time it occurred to her that her brother was almost the same age.
“Are you ready to make that decision?” Christy asked.
David nodded. “I want to. I want to pray right now. Will you pray with me?”
Christy felt her throat tighten and tears rush to her eyes. “Of course,” she said in a small voice.
“What do I say?”
“Just say whatever is on your heart. God knows what you're thinking, David. He knows that you're choosing to believe in Him. Now tell Him just that and receive His gift of forgiveness and eternal life.”
Christy closed her eyes and bowed her head. David
prayed four or five short, no-nonsense phrases stating that he believed Jesus was God's only Son and that he wanted Jesus to forgive his sins and come in and take over his life. When David ended his prayer with the words “Let it be so,” Christy knew David had heard Todd pray more than once.
As she opened her eyes, Christy drew in a deep breath. “You've just been adopted into God's family.” A smile came to her tense lips, despite all the trauma of the past hour. “I'm really happy for you, David. Todd will be thrilled.” The tears wove their way down Christy's cheeks all over again.
David nodded. “I want to tell Todd I finally did it.”
“Maybe they'll let us see him soon. Come on.” Christy put her arm around her brother and walked back into the waiting room. She felt stunned and amazed at what had just happened.
“Any word?” Christy asked.
Her mom shook her head. “Your father went to give blood in case they need more.”
“I want to give my blood, too,” David said.
Mom looked surprised. “You're too young, honey. Even with our consent, you have to be sixteen.”
David looked a little disappointed.
“I'm sure your dad could use a little moral support,” Mom said. “Let's go find him.”
After Christy's mom and brother left the waiting room, Christy thought about what had just happened. She turned to Katie. “My brother gave his life to the Lord when we went outside.” Her voice held little emotion because she had so little left to give.
“That's incredible.” Katie spoke in a monotone, as well. “How did that happen?”
“Todd has been talking to him about the Lord for a long
time. I guess David wanted to finally make a firm decision. I wish I could feel as happy as I should about it.”
Just then a tall, broad-shouldered man with thinning blond hair, wearing a Hawaiian-print shirt, entered the waiting room with Christy's uncle Bob. She had seen Todd's father only once or twice before, but Christy rushed to him and hugged him before she hugged Uncle Bob.
“What have you heard?” Uncle Bob asked. He lived a few blocks from Todd's dad, and apparently the two men had come together.
Christy gave them the rundown and had just finished when the doctor entered the waiting area. He spotted Christy and went to her first.
“This is Todd's dad,” Christy said to the doctor.
“Bryan,” Todd's father said, shaking hands with the doctor. “Bryan Spencer. How is he?”
“I'm Dr. Johannes. Todd is coming out of surgery right now. We were quite fortunate in that we were able to locate the bleeding right away. He had a perforated colon. The surgeon repaired it and went ahead and removed his appendix because it was swollen. That may or may not be a result of the accident. Everything else looks good. We put quite a few stitches in his hands, and he may need a few more after they get the rest of the glass out.”
“He's going to be okay, isn't he?” Katie blurted out.
“I can't guarantee that,” Dr. Johannes said. “He's lost a lot of blood, but amazingly, he didn't break any bones. We'll be able to make a better diagnosis in the morning. He'll be in the recovery room for at least another hour or two.”
“Can I see him?” Todd's dad asked.