When Joy Came to Stay Page 12

  “Hey, I gotta run, Maggie. I want to be there when Deirdre comes out of surgery. She needs me.”

  Maggie was silent, Ben’s last words ringing through her head: She needs me, she needs me, she needs me.

  Ben cut in quickly on her thoughts. “You know what I mean, right, Mag? She doesn’t need me in that way. It’s just that…well, she’s lost so much.” He paused as if he was searching for the right words. “And I’m still probably her best friend. You understand, right?”

  Maggie stifled the tears that threatened to break loose at any moment. What choice did she have but to understand? “Sure, Ben. Call me later.”

  “Pray for her, okay?” She could hear in his voice that he was anxious to go.

  “Sure.”

  When they hung up, Maggie dropped her head into her hands and muttered a sincere prayer that God show mercy to Deirdre in the days to come. Then she wept for Deirdre and the death of her mother and the sad fact that tragic things happen even to godly, Christian people. But most of all she wept for herself and the strange feeling that had come over her.

  The feeling that she had just lost Ben Stovall forever.

  Maggie fell silent and Dr. Camas shifted his position. “Is that all for today?”

  The room was quiet except for the gentle whirring of heat circulating from a ceiling vent. That phone call from Ben had been the beginning of the darkest days in Maggie’s life, the culmination of which made it hard for Maggie to think clearly eight years later.

  Confess to one another…live in the light, daughter…

  At that moment, the whispering of God did not seem intertwined with doom and desperation. Instead His words seemed the very seeds of hope. Her eyes met the doctor’s and again she saw a wealth of warmth and light and somehow she knew she had to continue. Only by going back would she ever move forward toward the place of sunshine and hope that Dr. Camas—and God, Himself—were calling her to.

  Fresh tears spilled from Maggie’s eyes and she shook her head. “No, there’s more.”

  “I’ve got time, Mrs. Stovall.” His slight smile bathed the room in kindness. “Why don’t you go ahead.”

  Maggie nodded and again allowed herself to drift back in time, back to the place where Ben began spending every spare moment with Deirdre.

  At first it had been out of necessity. There were details for Deirdre’s father to handle, matters to be taken care of, and with Deirdre in the hospital, Ben was often the only person available to sit by her side. Maggie went to the dance by herself that weekend and spent the evening with a host of friends, including John McFadden, local baseball sensation and easily the most popular boy on campus.

  “Hey, Maggie. I know you’re one of those Christian girls, but what about you and me going out sometime, huh?”

  Maggie felt herself blush. He was so good looking. In fact, in some ways he reminded her of Ben, with the exception of his eyes. Ben’s eyes were filled with a love for God; John’s were filled with something else…something dark and a little bit dangerous.

  Though Maggie enjoyed every moment with John that evening, she knew about the rumors, how John used a girl and left her for another conquest. There was a significant trail of broken hearts lining the hallways of Akron University and a few guys even attested to the fact that John McFadden kept lists of the girls he’d been with.

  So she looked at him that night and laughed lightly. “John, you and I are far better off as friends.”

  After the week of the funeral service, Deirdre had doctor appointments and physical therapy sessions, and much of the time Ben drove her around town or spent afternoons encouraging her to work her damaged hip so that she would get better. When she broke down, missing her mother and terrified of the future, Ben was the one who comforted her.

  He explained all of it to Maggie, and though his reasons were good, Maggie could sense him pulling away from her. “She’s a wreck, Mag,” he told her once a few weeks after the accident. “Deirdre’s never been like this before. It’s like I’m all she has. She doesn’t want me to leave her side.”

  His words seemed to imply something, but Maggie didn’t question him. She was too busy comforting herself. Her gut told her clearly that her relationship with Ben was on shaky ground, and one month after Deirdre’s mother’s death, he called and confirmed her worst fears.

  “Mag, I don’t know how to say this…”

  She closed her eyes and leaned against the hallway wall. Say it, Ben. Tell me it’s over.

  When she didn’t say anything, Ben continued. “Deirdre needs me…”

  “More doctor appointments?” Maggie hated the fact that she sounded bitter. It wasn’t Deirdre’s fault her mother had died, and Ben couldn’t help the fact that he’d been friends with Deirdre all her life. Still the anger that boiled in Maggie’s heart seeped out in her words, and there seemed nothing Maggie could do to stop it.

  “No…I mean, yes, she has more doctor appointments, but that’s not it.” He sighed loud enough for her to hear. “I’m so confused right now, Mag. I think it’d be best if…”

  The tears started then. They flooded her eyes and streamed down her face as though her heart had sprung a leak too severe for anyone to repair.

  “Maggie? Are you okay?” He knew she was crying and she hated that fact. “Maggie girl, talk to me.”

  She swallowed and did her best to sound normal. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Listen, Maggie, I didn’t plan any of this and neither did Deirdre. It happened. And now…”

  “Now you’re in love with her.” It was a statement, not a question, and though the tears continued to pour from her eyes, her sinuses had not yet swollen so she sounded almost unaffected.

  Ben moaned in frustration. “No, I’m not in love with her…I mean, well…I don’t know what I am.”

  “Ben, don’t be afraid to admit the truth. You’ve spent a lot of time with her lately; it’s only normal that you two would become closer.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, Maggie. I love you. But…”

  Here it came, the part where he would ask for time away and promise that maybe someday things would work out. From the beginning Maggie had done her best to avoid this. But here she was: completely in love with him, plans made in her mind to spend the rest of her life with him…and now he was pulling the plug. That was more than Maggie could bear.

  She grabbed a tissue and wiped at her eyes as Ben mumbled the very things Maggie had known he would say. She caught the key words. Time apart. Maybe later. Deirdre needs me. None of it was important. The relationship she and Ben had started—the one she had believed God had brought about as an answer to years of prayer—was over before it had ever really begun.

  Dr. Camas eyed Maggie thoughtfully. “You’re married to him now; is that correct?”

  “Not for long. I want a divorce.”

  There was no obvious change of expression on Dr. Camas’s face. “Really?”

  Maggie remembered the admitting nurse’s information that Orchards was a Christian facility. She hadn’t seen many overt signs of this, but there was a sense of God’s Spirit everywhere. The doctor’s question only added to that.

  “There’s more to the story. When Ben left, I figured God didn’t have someone special for me, after all. I did—” Her voice broke and tears came harder. “I did some terrible things, Doctor. Things Ben doesn’t know about.”

  Again there was no look of shock or condemnation. Instead, Dr. Camas gently patted Maggie’s hand. “I think we’ve gotten through enough for today. Maybe you’d like to tell me about that time in your life when we meet tomorrow?”

  A chill passed over Maggie and she forced back a sense of panic that suddenly threatened to overtake her. The session was over; nightfall was near. And the monsters that tortured her in the darkest hours were more tenacious than ever, reminding her exactly how worthless she was.

  “Yes, that’s fine.” She wiped her eyes once more and stood to leave.

  Outside D
r. Camas’s office the desperation was waiting for her. Help me, Lord…is this depression? What’s wrong with me? She’d heard a few of the nurses mention that she was being treated for depression and the thought appalled her. What did she have to be depressed about? She had a husband and a God who loved her. She should be filled with joy at all times, in all situations. Wasn’t that what the Bible said?

  She was halfway back to her room when she saw the little girl. The same one, with long, curly blond hair and questioning blue eyes. She was holding hands with a woman near the front desk, and Maggie stopped in her tracks. Resisting the impulse to run and take hold of the child, Maggie fell against the wall and froze in place.

  Blink, Maggie. Blink until she disappears. It isn’t her…it can’t be.

  The advice seemed simple enough, and she followed it willingly. Her eyes snapped shut once, twice, and on the third time the child became a dark-haired little boy. Maggie pulled in quick, short gulps of air and stared wide-eyed down the hallway toward her room. Despite the medicine and counseling and safety of Orchards Hospital, she was still out of her mind. Why else would the little girl have followed her here?

  Her entire body trembled and she felt lightheaded as she forced herself to move. You can do it, Maggie. One foot forward, another…another. As she walked back to her bedroom, the place where the nightly battle with the forces of desperation would take place, she wondered for the hundredth time since coming to Orchards if there was anything anyone could do to help her escape the darkness. But even as the question came to mind she knew the answer.

  It was as clear as the image of the little girl had been moments ago.

  The feeling of doom had already consumed her, and the light—whatever light there had ever been—had been snuffed out long ago.

  Twelve

  IT WAS A FULL MOON THAT NIGHT AND BEN FIGURED HE COULD find Topper’s Pop Bar without a map. It was in a rough part of Cleveland, where graffiti marked the vacant office buildings and convenience stores were operated by gun-toting clerks. A neighborhood where more than the usual number of homeless people milled about or lay on bus stop benches.

  Ben spotted a used car lot that boasted, “All our cars run!” and he kept driving. Down another block he saw a cheap, 1970s-style neon sign blinking the words “Booze” and “Buds.”

  Ben took a steadying breath and pulled his car into the lot. He paused for a minute and hung his head. It’s now or never, God. He climbed out, set his car alarm, and crossed the parking lot. Inside, the bar was nearly black with only a haze of light and swirling cigarette smoke, through which the silhouettes of people could be seen. Ben waited while his eyes adjusted, then made his way to the bar.

  “Whaddya want?” The bartender was a short man with an attitude twice his size.

  Ben figured the man must have failed the customer service aspect of his job training. How does a dive like this stay open? “Yeah. How ’bout a soda water with a squeeze of lemon.” With his eyes adjusted to the light, Ben could clearly see the man’s incredulous expression.

  The bartender poked his coworker, who was also pouring drinks. “Get a load of this…rich guy here wants a soda water with lemon. Do you buy that? Soda water with lemon?” The short man turned his attention back to Ben. “What are ya, Mormon or something, pal? Need a break from the wifey—”

  “Wifies,” the second bartender interrupted. He leaned over the bar and sized up Ben as though he were an alien. “Those Mormon boys have lots of wives.”

  “Listen, buddy,” the short one said. “If you’ve got lots of wives you better have a double at least.”

  Ben was not afraid of the men, but he was growing tired of their noise. He stared at the short one first and then the one who had joined him. “Listen, I said I want a soda water with lemon. If that doesn’t work for you, I’ll take my business somewhere else.” He thought he’d dressed down for the occasion but he could see that his tailor-made trousers and knit pullover still made him stand out among the patrons.

  The taller bartender stuck out his hand and angled it back and forth. “Scare me, rich boy.”

  Ben was tempted to go behind the bar and get the drink himself when the bartenders suddenly stopped hassling him and returned to serving customers.

  “Hey, sorry ‘bout that…” A man in a pinstriped suit appeared at Ben’s elbow. He was dark and handsome, and something told Ben he’d found the man he was looking for. “The boys think they’re funny, but they get a little carried away sometimes. Did you, uh, come for anything else?”

  Madeline Johnson’s words flashed in Ben’s mind. He’s into some nasty things, Ben…be careful. Ben frowned. Wasn’t there an article that appeared in the Cleveland Gazette not long ago? It had said that bars often were sites of heavy-duty drug smuggling. The sale of beer and other alcohol only helped the success of the cover-up. Shady characters frequented bars all the time, so if one showed up and left with a case of something, most people would assume it was alcohol.

  Ben cleared his throat. He wouldn’t be surprised at all to find out this was such a place.

  “Actually, I’m looking for John McFadden.”

  “That’s me. Did Bobby send you?”

  “No…I’m here on my own.” His soda water arrived and Ben took a sip. He noticed that the man in the suit was built like an athlete. Odd, but he even thought they resembled each other. So this is the man, huh, Maggie? The one you hid from me all these years, the one who—

  “Good…good. What can I get for you?”

  Again Ben had the sense that McFadden was offering more than alcoholic beverages, but none of that mattered now. He was here because of Maggie, not to uncover a drug smuggling ring. “This is going to seem a little strange, Mr. McFadden, but I need to ask you a few questions about Maggie Johnson.”

  Ben prided himself on being able to read people, and the moment he mentioned Maggie’s name any doubts that he had the right man dissolved instantly A look of recognition came across McFadden’s dark face, followed quickly by deep suspicion. “What about her?”

  “I’m married to her.” He hesitated. “Maggie’s…well, lately she’s been having some trouble. Her mother told me the two of you used to see each other.”

  John held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, man, I don’t have AIDS or nothing, if that’s what you want to know. Me and Maggie only dated for a little while. Not like we were lovers for a year or none of that…”

  Everything about Topper’s Pop and John McFadden and the atmosphere in the bar felt like an assault on Ben’s spirit. A dozen unspoken warnings told Ben to turn around and leave, but he was sure this man held part of the secret to Maggie’s past. Give me strength, God. Please.

  “I’m not here to get a health report on you.” Ben paused and slid his hand into his pocket. “I need to know if there’s anything you can tell me about Maggie, anything that happened during the time you two were together that she might still be troubled by now, eight years later.”

  McFadden leaned casually against the bar and sized up Ben much the way the bartenders had earlier. “What’s it to you?”

  Ben was confused at first. “She’s my wife. I need to know.”

  “No…what I mean is what’s it to you; how much you willing to pay?”

  Anger flared through Ben, burning his chest and throat. He straightened to face the man, squaring his legs and crossing his arms. “I didn’t come here to bribe you. I came here to find out about my wife.”

  John shrugged and a slow grin spread across his face. “Those are the kinds of things that sometimes go together.” He held out his hands, palm up, raising and lowering them as if weighing something. “Information on Maggie, money; information on Maggie, money.”

  “All right, look. I’ll give you a hundred dollars. It’s here in my pocket. All you need to do is tell me what happened that year. Anything, any details you remember about Maggie.”

  Now it was the man’s turn to stand straight and as he did he took a step closer so that he was o
nly inches from Ben’s face. “No deal, friend. Why don’t you take your questions and your lousy hundred dollars and get lost.” He spun around, shouted several orders to the bartenders, and disappeared into a backroom.

  Ben watched him go, fighting the urge to chase the man down, tackle him to the floor and…

  Instead, he pulled out a business card and set it on the bar with a five-dollar bill. “Here. For the soda.” The short man took the five and started to get change but Ben stopped him. “Keep it. And give my card to your boss, will you?”

  The bartender looked pleased with the tip and took the card gladly. “Hey, rich boy, you come on back anytime you want. We’ll serve you up the best soda water in town.”

  There was a chorus of laughter behind the bar but Ben didn’t bother to acknowledge it. Cretins. He left and headed back to the parking lot. How do people have fun in places like that? Outside, he spotted three or four men unloading a crate full of boxes from the back of an unmarked blue van. Ben recognized John McFadden as one of them, and at that instant their eyes met. McFadden whispered something to the other men and then vanished into the storage facility.

  God, this place gives me the creeps. He knows something about Maggie and he won’t tell me. Help me, Lord. At the last second, before reaching his car, Ben changed directions and headed toward the blue van and the men still working with the boxes.

  “Get lost, buddy!” one of the men shouted as Ben approached. “This is private property.”

  “I’m looking for Mr. McFadden. We weren’t finished talking.” Ben continued toward the man but before he could ask another question something came crashing down on his head. His knees buckled and he fell to the ground, his body screaming, writhing in pain. Instinctively he reached for his head and felt a pulsating, warm, wetness in his hair.

  Blood! I’m bleeding. Help me, God; I don’t want to die here.