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
