Answered prayers

23

BRAD DIDN'T HAVE TIME TO CALL FAITH WHEN HE switched planes in London. He had to run to another terminal, and he barely made the plane. He had managed to call Pam, but there was no news from Dylan or anyone else. And he sat on the flight to Lusaka looking like a wounded man. Most of the time, all he could think of was Jason. His imagination had run wild with him since he'd heard the initial news and nothing more. And the rest of the time, he thought of Faith, and wanted to reassure her that what they had done wasn't wrong. But there was nothing he could say. She would just have to hang tough and believe in him until he got home. He had no idea what they were going to do, but there was no question in his mind that he was in love with her. He had known it in his soul for a very, very long time.
He slept for part of the flight, and arrived in the morning, and changed planes again, to a miserable egg crate that would take him on the last leg of the trip. And this time, when he arrived in Kalabo, there was no van waiting for him, and no Jason or Dylan. He hired a man with a truck to drive him to the game preserve. But as they drove through the town, he saw what had happened. The roof of the church they'd been restoring in Ngulwana had fallen in, and the steeple with it. Just looking at it, he started to cry.
“A bad thing happened, Bambo,” the man driving him said, as Brad told him to stop. “Men got hurt bad. Four of them.” Brad nodded. The term the driver had used for him was “Father,” a gesture of respect.
“I know. One of them is my son.” The man only nodded in answer, as Brad went to look for someone to tell him where the wounded men were. And finally he found one, a tribesman wearing shorts and sandals, with scars on his face. He pointed to a building where the men had been taken. And as soon as he walked in, he saw women crying, and children squatting, and others shooing flies off the faces of the injured men. He found Dylan kneeling beside Jason, among them. Jason was unconscious and there was a tremendous blood-soaked bandage on his head. Dylan stood up instantly and collapsed sobbing in his father's arms. Dylan was so exhausted he couldn't stop crying. The only good news from what Brad could see was that Jason was still alive. But he appeared to be close to death, and Dylan told him that one of the others had died several hours before.
“Has he seen a doctor?” Brad asked, trying to fight panic. He knew he needed to be strong for both his sons, particularly Dylan now, who had been brave and sensible on his own for two days.
“He came yesterday, but he had to leave again.”
“What did he say?” Brad looked tense.
“Not much. I tried to get the plane, Dad. But I couldn't.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“They said it's probably in Victoria Falls, but no one seems to know for sure.”
“Okay. Let me see what I can do.” Brad walked into the bright sunshine, not sure where to start, and as though he could hear Faith's voice in his head, he started to pray. He walked to the post office, and asked the only man working there who to talk to about the plane. He gave Brad a number, and told him how to call. It took half an hour to get a local line, and then it occurred to him to radio the game preserve. There was no answer at the phone number he'd been given, and the man in the post office told him where to go to find a radio. And from there, Brad radioed the game preserve, and asked them to radio for the plane. And then he went back to Dylan, standing guard over Jason. He kept swatting the flies off his twin and staring miserably at him. Even with his deep tan, Brad could see that his son was gray. Dylan said he hadn't regained consciousness in two days.
It took another six hours for the game preserve to get the plane. And then they sent a boy in a Jeep into town to tell Brad that it would be at the airport at eleven o'clock that night. If he could get the wounded men to the airport, they would fly them to the hospital in Lukulu. He helped load two men into the Jeep, with their relatives following on foot. And they got a truck for Jason, laid him carefully on a blanket, and put him in the back of the truck, with Dylan kneeling next to him, and Brad in the front seat. They were a motley crew when the plane finally arrived two hours later than they said.
It took nearly an hour to get everyone settled in the plane. And shortly after that, they took off. For Brad, it was like an out-of-body experience, in a totally primitive place, with people who responded at their own pace. The plane was going to land in an open stretch of terrain the pilot was familiar with, and they had an ambulance standing by. Someone had radioed ahead. The ambulance made three trips back and forth with the injured men, as Brad paid the pilot of the plane, and took off with Jason and Dylan. And finally, once they got to the hospital, he knew that Jason would be in halfway decent hands. Most of the hospital staff was British, and there was a New Zealander and an Australian doctor as well. It was easy to see why Jason had wanted to study in the health care field and come back to a country like this. They needed help desperately, and he could make a difference here. If he survived.
After examining him, the doctor in charge told Brad and Dylan that Jason had a head injury of some magnitude, and had both swelling and fluid on the brain. And the only way to relieve it was to drain it. In normal circumstances, it was not a complicated surgery, but setting a broken arm was complicated in a place like this. Brad gave them his permission, and within seconds, Jason was wheeled away, as Brad and Dylan sat together, talking quietly, and watching other people come and go. It was an endless day.
The sun came up while they were sitting, waiting for news of Jason. They were told hours later that the procedure had been done, and he was still alive, but there had been no visible change in his condition so far. And they knew nothing more when the sun set again.
Brad and Dylan took turns sitting by his bedside, and he never stirred. They sat there, never leaving him for three days. Brad felt tired and filthy. He hadn't changed his clothes, showered, or shaved, but he never left his son for a minute. They ate whatever the nurses brought them, and on the third day, he realized that Pam had never arrived. He wondered if she was waiting for them at the game preserve, but there was no way to find out. He finally asked someone to radio there, and the message came back that she wasn't coming. But they had no other details. It was impossible to call her from where they were.
And on the fourth day, finally, Jason moaned softly, opened his eyes, smiled at them, sighed, and drifted back to sleep. For a horrifying instant, Brad thought he had died, and he clutched Dylan's arm, with wide eyes. But the nurse said he was out of the coma, and sleeping normally. He had made it. He was going to live.
He and Dylan went outside, and they cried and laughed and shouted. It was the best day of both their lives. And the longest week Brad had ever lived.
“You smell like a dead rat,” Dylan teased his father, as they sat outside for a long time, celebrating and talking quietly. Someone had brought them some hard cheese and a piece of bread. The hospital was primitive in the extreme, and poorly stocked, but the medical personnel had been terrific, and saved Jason's life.
“You don't smell so great yourself.” Brad grinned at him.
After checking on Jason again, Brad asked a nurse and she directed them to an outdoor shower. He had brought his only bag with him, and shared the clothes he'd brought with his son. They were clean at least by the time they went back to Jason, he was awake again and trying to talk, and the doctor was pleased.
“You got quite a blow, young man,” the New Zealander said, smiling at Jason. “You must have a mighty hard head.” And when Brad took him aside later, the doctor told him it had been a miracle that the young man had lived. Of those who had survived the accident, he had been the most dangerously hurt.
Brad asked later if there was a telephone somewhere, and everyone laughed at him when he said he wanted to call the States. The best they could offer him was a phone he could use to call the post office in Ngulwana, where someone told him they would radio the game preserve, and in turn ask them to contact Jason's mother in the States, if she was still there. It took another day to get an answer from them. They had used the same complicated, circuitous route to call Pam in San Francisco, and she was relieved to know that her son was “okay.” It was obvious to Brad from all that that she had never left. And he wondered what she imagined “okay” meant. She had no idea what they had been through. There was no excuse for her not coming, in Brad's eyes. No matter how much she hated third world countries, or Africa when she'd been there two months before, she should have been there. He didn't say anything to either of his sons, but Brad knew he would never forgive her for it. There was nothing she could have done, but she owed it to her boys to be there, and to Brad as well.
And a day later, he used the same circuitous routing of radios and local phones to ask someone to call Faith in New York to tell her Jason would live, and to thank her for her prayers. Brad had no doubt that they had made a difference, and he was desperately sorry that he couldn't call her and talk to her himself, but there was no way he could while he was there.
Three days later, a nurse told them that Jason's mother had gotten a message to them. She couldn't come, but was glad that all was well. She would see them when they got home. It was that message that made the difference to him. Unless she were in a coma herself, there was no acceptable explanation she could give for not being there. Brad never mentioned it to Dylan, but he knew that their marriage had died on that day. They had told Jason that their mom was tied up in San Francisco, and it was too complicated for her to get there, and he didn't question it, but Dylan could see on his father's face how he felt about it, and he tried to reassure him as best he could.
“It would have been too hard on Mom here,” Dylan said gently, and Brad nodded. He had nothing left to say. They had spent twenty-five years together, and one always assumed that when the chips were down, the person you were married to would be there. Even if they didn't give much from day to day. But when they failed to stand up and be counted when it really mattered, you knew everything you had tried not to know all along. And Brad knew now. Not only wasn't Pam his wife anymore, she wasn't even his friend. It was a devastating revelation, and a disappointment so enormous in her as a human being that even if he could have called her, he would have had nothing to say.
The doctor estimated that Jason would be at the hospital for a month, and they provided two cots for Brad and Dylan. They sat with him for hours every day, and then went on walks in the cool of the evening. Brad took long walks by himself every day when the sun came up. He had never seen as beautiful a place as this one, and it was even more so because Jason hadn't died there, but nearly had, and had been reborn. Brad felt as though his own spirit had been reborn with him. He suddenly felt filled with hope and life and promise, the miracle had not only touched Jason, it had touched all three of them. And it was a bond and a time Brad knew they would never forget.
And as he walked home from his long hikes every morning, he found himself not only thinking of his children, and thanking God for them, but he also thought of Faith. He only wished that she could be there with them to see the beauty of the place. She would have seen the splendor of it as he did. And she would have understood what it meant to him.
They flew Jason back to Kalabo a month after he had gone to the hospital. He was tired and wan, and had lost a considerable amount of weight. He was still too weak to travel, but the doctor thought that after a few more weeks resting at the game preserve, and eating properly, he would be able to make the trip home. It was three weeks after they brought him back from the hospital that Jason said he felt well enough to make the trip. The headaches he had had for weeks had finally gone away as well.
It was an emotional day when they finally left the game preserve, and started the long trip home. Brad had gone to the post office twice to try to call Faith, he had waited hours for an outside, international line, and had finally given up. There was no way to call. Nor had he communicated further with Pam. He had too much to say to her to call on a bad line from a remote African phone.
As it had when he'd arrived, it took them two flights to get to London, and Brad had arranged for them to stay there for two days. He had been gone for nearly two months by then. And he wanted Jason to rest and see a doctor in London, before they traveled the rest of the way home. And much to everyone's amazement, when he did, Jason got a clean bill of health. They described the accident, and the procedure that had saved him, and showed them the chart, X-rays, and paperwork that had been sent home with him. And the doctor in London said he was an incredibly fortunate young man. He could have easily died from the injury he'd sustained. They didn't anticipate any long-term ill effects, although they suggested he take it easy for a couple of months. Even Jason agreed with a weak smile. He felt like he'd been hit by a train.
When they got to Claridge's, Jason called his mother, and he cried when he talked to her. And then Dylan told her everything, and after that he passed the phone to Brad. He put her on hold and took the call in the other room. He was no longer even angry at her. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't accuse her of anything. And he didn't want to hear the excuses he was sure she would proffer.
“Thank God he's all right,” she said, sounding nervous. And at first, there was silence from Brad's end. He hadn't wanted their sons to hear the conversation, which was why he had gone to the next room.
“What do you expect me to say, Pam?” There were a thousand rude or cruel things he could have said. But the situation seemed far too serious to him to do that. That would only have made sense if he still cared. And he no longer did. What she had done, or hadn't, had been the last straw for him.
“I'm sorry … I couldn't make it, Brad. I got tied up here.” As far as Brad was concerned, “couldn't make it” was something you said about a dinner party or a ballet, not a son who nearly died continents away. “I tried, but by the time I could have come, he was all right.”
“He's not all right yet, Pam. He won't be for months.”
“You know what I mean,” she countered. “We knew he was going to live.”
“I guess that was enough then, was it?”
“I don't know, Brad … maybe I was just scared … I hated that place … it terrified me, and I've never been good when the kids are sick,” she said honestly, but without remorse.
“He nearly died, Pam. I thought he had once or twice.” Brad knew he would never forget those moments, nor would Jason's twin. “The worst part is that for the rest of his life, he's going to know that you didn't give enough of a damn to come, when he needed you most. That's a hell of a thing to live with, for him, never mind me. You're his mother for chrissake,” even if she chose not to act like a wife.
“I'm sorry,” she said contritely finally. “I think he understands.”
“If he does, you're a lucky woman. I wouldn't forgive you, in his shoes. And even if he does, how must it make him feel?”
“Don't be so dramatic for chrissake, Brad. You were there.” It was the wrong thing to say to him. All it did was make him angry at her, and turn him off. He cut the conversation short after that. He had nothing more to say.
“Yes, I was. And you weren't. I guess that about sums it up.”
“How does he look?” She sounded concerned. It was the least she could do.
“Like he's been beaten with lead pipes. But I think he's happy to be alive. We'll be home in a couple of days.”
“Brad,” she heard something in his voice that startled her. He sounded completely removed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I am,” he said firmly. “Jason's alive, that's all that matters. I'll see you when I get back.” His voice was ice cold, and as Pam hung up at her end, she frowned. It wasn't that she didn't care about her son. It was just that she hadn't wanted to go. She felt guilty about it. But she had served herself in the end. She always did.
After Brad hung up with her, he called Faith, and was disappointed to find she wasn't home. He called her again late that night, after he had settled Jason, and Dylan had gone out to see some friends. Brad waited till he had time to himself to talk to her. The call was too important to him to do less than that.
“Brad?” She sounded stunned to hear him, as though he had come back from the dead. He had been away for seven weeks. It was the middle of July. He hadn't seen or talked to her since May. “How's Jason?”
“Doing amazingly well. I missed you, Fred.” He could feel all the tension go out of him when he heard her voice.
“Will he be all right?” She had prayed endlessly about him, and gone to mass twice a day.
“He'll be fine.” Brad laughed for the first time in ages. He nearly cried he was so happy to talk to her. “If you're going to have a church steeple fall on your head, do it while you're young.”
“I was so worried about him, and all of you.” She had made a decision in his absence, and so had he. Once she knew he was safe and sound, she was no longer going to talk to him. It had been a painful decision for her. But the scene in the airport when he left had told her all she needed to know. She could no longer trust herself, or him. “How's Dylan?” she asked.
“He was a real hero. We spent some amazing time together. It was an extraordinary time. The doctors said it's a miracle Jason survived. I think I have your prayers to thank for that.”
She smiled at that, pleased. “I nearly wore your rosary out.”
“I can tell.” It felt so good just to hear her voice.
“Did Pam get there okay?” She had no idea what had happened, they hadn't talked the whole time he was away.
“She never came,” he said simply, and made no further comment. But Faith could hear all he didn't say. She knew him well, though not quite as well as she thought anymore. A lot had changed on the African plains.
“I see. That must have been hard for you.”
“We were okay. I hated not being able to call you. How's everything with you?”
“Fine. Silly in comparison to what you've been through. Alex and I came to an agreement about the house. He's letting me keep it.”
“That's big of him.”
“I think he feels guilty because he's getting married so soon.”
“As well he should.”
“When are you going back to San Francisco?” It was odd talking to him, particularly after she'd made her decision. But even hearing him now, she was sure. All the more so, because she could hear everything in his voice that she felt for him.
“We're going back in two days. I didn't want to push Jason too hard. It's a long trip. He needs to rest. I'll call you tomorrow.” He was exhausted, and needed to get to bed. And what he wanted to say to her would have to wait.
“Have a safe trip.” She had no intention of being there when he called the next day. She was going to leave the phone on the machine. She was going to send him a letter in San Francisco. And nothing he could say to her would change her mind. She knew she was doing the right thing, for both of them. She wasn't Alex. Or Leslie. She wasn't going to contribute to Brad cheating on his wife, or cause a divorce, no matter how unhappy he said they were. It was a matter of respect, for all of them, and herself. She had talked about it at length with a priest, and then made up her own mind. In the end, it had been the only choice she could make. For all their sakes.
Brad fell into bed exhausted, and as he had for weeks now, he fell asleep dreaming of Faith. And in New York, Faith went to church and lit a candle, to strengthen her resolve. Just hearing his voice again told her how hard it would be.