owe Jonas a favor, that’s why I’m here.” His eyes darkened with a terrible sadness.
Sadness she could feel.
He went on. “I want to know what I can do for Danielle. How I can help. Make a difference in their lives.” He paused. “The way Jonas had once done for me.”
“Jonas helped a lot of people in the line of duty.”
“I imagine.” He gave a curt nod, as if it were all he could manage. He swallowed hard, and his sorrow was a palpable thing drawing her closer. “I’m not handling this well. It’s the hospital. I’ve spent a lot of time in them.”
“In this one?”
“Yes.”
She slipped into the chair in the row next to him, leaving an empty seat between them. “Your story didn’t end well, did it? I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know why he was telling her this. What had happened to his resolve to keep this buried? “Four years, five months and twenty three days ago, no, twenty four days ago, my wife died in this hospital. One moment we were riding bikes on the shoulder of a country road, and the next, she was bleeding to death in my arms….”
He could feel the woman’s silence like a touch, her gaze on his face, her sympathy as soft as dawn’s light. The title on the front of the book he held began to blur. “Jonas answered the 911 call. He was going off duty, but he came to help. The paramedics were right behind him, but I’ll never forget what he did. He drove to the hospital and he sat with me while my wife was in surgery. I had no other family. No one else.”
That was all he could say. But there was more that Jonas had done, things that had made all the difference. A difference William could not face, much less put into ordinary words. He hung his head, willing the pain down and forcing his vision to clear.
Her hand settled on his arm, her touch light and comforting. He couldn’t explain why a sense of peace cut through the well of pain gathering deep within him. Or why she made the agony of an endless sorrow ebb away like low tide on a shore. He only knew how dangerous it was to open up to anyone, to let anyone in, and he jerked his arm away.
“Uh, there’s Danielle now,” Aubrey said in a startled voice, hopping to her feet, acting as if he hadn’t embarrassed her.
He was too overwhelmed to do anything more than close his book and try to find the will to stand, to greet Jonas’s wife with a voice that wouldn’t betray his own inner turmoil. He closed off everything else from his mind—even the bit of peace Aubrey had brought to him.
It was just about the saddest thing she’d heard. Aubrey ached for the man as she watched him amble down the hallway toward the elevators. Now that she knew what had happened to him and the loss he’d suffered, she could see that he was walking around broken down to the quick of his soul.
“I can’t believe this.” Danielle sank into the nearest chair in the waiting room and stared at the business card she held in her hand. “I’m too tired to think.”
She looked beyond exhausted, Aubrey thought as she eased into the chair beside her stepsister. Coincidentally, she discovered she had a perfect view of the elevator bank where William was waiting, head bowed, staring at the floor.
He’d jerked away from her. She’d meant to comfort him, and he pulled away as if she were hurting him more. She was embarrassed, yes, but it was nothing compared to the hurt she felt on his behalf.
“That man was William Corey. The photographer.” Danielle stared at the card. “I didn’t even know Jonas knew him. Wait, maybe I did. My brain is a total fog.”
“Did he tell you about the gift?”
“Oh, you mean he wanted to contribute to Jonas’s medical fund, except there isn’t one.” Danielle rubbed her hands over her face, so weary. “I told him about the funds we’re accepting for charity in his name. Oh, and I mentioned the auction fund-raiser thing you and Ava are coordinating with our church.”
Should she tell her about the anniversary gift? Aubrey wasn’t sure at this point that Danielle looked strong enough to take one more blow.
“Mr. Corey was interested in writing a check to Jonas’s medical fund, but I told him I wasn’t able to think about that much right now.” Danielle shrugged. She seemed frayed at the edges, at wit’s end, as if her heart had stopped beating. “I’ve got just about all I can cope with.”
Aubrey put her arm around her stepsister. “Did you get some sleep?”
“I’ll be fine. I—” Danielle shoved the business card in Aubrey’s direction. “I told him you or Ava would be in touch about that donation. It was nice of him, don’t you think?”
“I do. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Aubrey took the card, wrapping her hand around her sister’s. She willed all the sympathy she had into a prayer.
It was hard to know what exactly to pray for. For Jonas to miraculously recover? For Danielle’s marriage and family to be whole and happy, as before? To turn back time so that Jonas would not have been shot? Some things not even God could change. The past was one of those things.
Please, Father, make this come out all right.
But she didn’t see how. All she could see was her sister’s tenuous act of holding things together, and the remembrance of William Corey’s sadness. She could still picture the steel-straight line of his spine and the inherent sorrow that made him seem so distant and impersonal. But his story clung to her like skin.
How sad is this? she thought, wanting to push it all away like an empty plate. If only she could get this ordeal out of all of their lives. She hated dealing with this constant sorrow and sadness. She liked to look at the positive side of life. She hated the heartbreak and woe that had permeated their family and stolen Jonas from his wife and children.
“Are you all right?” Danielle asked in concern; Danielle who always thought of others even when her world was unraveling at the seams.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just overwhelmed.” Aubrey shrugged. “You know me. I hate that things like this ever happen. I would want there to be no hurt and loss in the world. Just goodness and sunshine for everyone.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me. If only that were true.” Tears brimmed in her dark blue eyes. “What I’d give if we could make that true, but life is a mixed bag of blessings. Some days it’s more than I want to face, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have to.”
A faint bell dinged at the end of the hallway, echoing against the long empty corridor. The light above one of the elevators came on and William Corey moved toward it.
Sympathy tugged at her heart. William looked deeply alone. She watched him wait while a few passengers in the elevator disembarked—Dorrie was among them. She carried a drink carrier and a covered plate, tapping quickly in their direction. But it was the man, lost in shadows, who kept Aubrey’s attention as he entered the elevator and disappeared from her sight.
The impression he’d made on her heart remained.
William listened to the echo of his step in the hospital’s chapel and wondered why he was here. It was as if he had followed his feet.
