A Kingsbury Collection

  The well-dressed woman in her late forties was Betty, a homemaker whose husband had left her ten years earlier. Now her children were raised and gone and she was desperately afraid of being alone. Her fears had built over the previous year so that now she was battling anxiety so great she was terrified of leaving her house. Being homebound had left her with little to do but eat and now, in addition to her fears, she was fifty pounds overweight and suffering from clinical depression. After much discussion it seemed clear both to Betty and the others that she had developed a dependence on everything but the Lord she claimed to serve. First her husband, then her children, and now her fleeting image.

  Sarah, the sweet young girl who had been through three abortions, began to recognize the consequences of living for self, with no regard for others. Although her missing babies still left a deep ache in her heart, her depression seemed to have lifted.

  And there were others who Maggie thought were smiling more, talking more easily, making eye contact where once they could only hang their heads. The solution seemed to have everything to do with honesty. As they each were able to share more of their heart, the desperation faded. In fact, the darkness that initially seemed to cloak all of them seemed to be lifting for almost everyone.

  Everyone, Maggie thought, but her.

  She considered this as she made her way to the group session room. Is it my pride, Lord? Is that the problem? Is it because I haven’t been honest with them? The group was still unaware of Maggie’s professional identity, but was that the only reason she’d kept silent every day while one group member or another bared his or her soul?

  Maggie had no answers, only a realization: If she was going to get better, she needed to talk about what was in her heart. And that meant finding the strength—somehow—to tell the group about her past. She rounded a corner and opened the first door on the left.

  “Hi, Maggie.” Dr. Baker smiled up from a small stack of papers.

  “Hi.” She made her way across the room and sat down next to the doctor. “Today’s the day.”

  Dr. Baker raised an eyebrow. “Revelation time?”

  Maggie nodded. “I’ve waited long enough.”

  There was silence. That was something Maggie had grown to enjoy about Orchards Psychiatric Hospital. The silence. None of the people who worked here seemed to feel the need to fill holes in the conversation with meaningless chatter. Instead it was almost as though they encouraged moments of reflection.

  “I see they’ve decreased your medication again.”

  “Yes, but … ”

  “That worries you?”

  Maggie nodded. “I … I’m still having the nightmares, still feel the darkness dragging me down at different times throughout the day.”

  Dr. Baker flipped through a few sheets of paper and paused as she studied what was written there. “Dr. Camas hasn’t reduced the Prozac, Maggie. Just the antianxiety medication.” She looked up. “Are you still feeling anxiety?”

  Maggie sighed. “I’m a believer trapped in a fog of darkness, Dr. Baker. I’m a conservative, God-fearing woman about to divorce my husband after seven years of lying to him about a child he knows nothing about. On top of that, I’m a columnist who writes about the need for morality and returning to godly standards in our world.” Maggie planted her elbows into her knees and let her head fall into her hands. “Yes. I still feel anxious.”

  “Try to understand, Maggie. The medication you were on was very strong. And now that you’re not—”

  She raised her head and stared sadly at the doctor. “Now that I’m not suicidal? Is that what you mean?” Her gaze fell to the floor. “Maybe I still am.”

  Dr. Baker leaned back in her chair and set her clipboard and paperwork down beside her. “Okay, Maggie. Tell me the truth then. Do you still want to die?”

  Maggie closed her eyes and there, standing before her, was the little girl. Seven, almost eight years old, dressed in blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her blond hair pulled into a simple ponytail. She was waving sweetly, mouthing the same words she mouthed every time she appeared this way: Mommy? Where’s my mommy? Do you know where my mommy is?

  Maggie reached out for the girl but suddenly, in her place, there was nothing but a wisp of fog that evaporated without a trace.

  “I have to find her.” Maggie’s voice sounded desperately sad, even to her.

  “Your daughter?”

  Maggie nodded. “I can see her, hear her, imagine her in my arms. But when I reach out for her, she … ”

  “She isn’t there, is that right? Like it always happens?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I guess your answer is simple, isn’t it?”

  Maggie looked up and saw a holy glow in Dr. Baker’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you can’t possibly be suicidal. You don’t want your life to end, Maggie. You just want to find your daughter.”

  Tears spilled from Maggie’s eyes onto her cheeks and she nodded again and again. “She already has a home, of course. A mother and father and people who love her. But … ”

  Dr. Baker waited until Maggie could find her voice and the strength to continue.

  She sniffled loudly and reached for the tissue box at the center of the circle. Blowing her nose, she turned once more to Dr. Baker. “No matter who has her, she’s still my baby and nothing will be right, nothing … until I can see for myself that she’s okay. Maybe then I can tell her I’m so—” Maggie’s voice halted.

  No, Lord, don’t take me down that path. It isn’t my fault. I never would have given her up if it weren’t for Ben. It’s his fault, God. Don’t make me tell her I’m sorry …

  “Tell her what, Maggie?”

  “Nothing.”

  Dr. Baker hesitated, but when the silence remained, she stood and stretched. “The group will be here any minute. I’ll let you decide if you’re ready to talk. If you are, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “Okay.” A heavy feeling settled over her shoulders and Maggie moved them up and down, trying to rid herself of the oppressive weight. When it would not leave, she went to pour herself a cup of herbal tea, found her regular seat, and nervously waited for the others.

  Sarah opened up revelation time by announcing that she had received her discharge orders.

  “Next Monday I’ll be going home with my parents.” She smiled, and Maggie noticed that the bruises on her cheeks were gone now. Sarah had explained to the group several sessions ago that her last boyfriend had beaten her regularly. Her breakdown had come when she feared she was pregnant for a fourth time and had suffered the worst blows of all when she’d told him the news. She had been considering suicide, but went home instead and shared everything with her parents. With their help, she’d gotten through her time at Orchards more quickly than many people. She would be expected to continue treatment on an outpatient basis for the next three months.

  “How do you feel?” Dr. Baker leaned back in her seat and focused her attention on Sarah.

  “Most of the time great, like a truck has been lifted off my shoulders.”

  “Most of the time?”

  Sarah’s face clouded. “There’re still times when I think of my babies, Dr. Baker. But I’ve learned something here at Orchards.” She looked at the others and for a moment her eyes caught Maggie’s and held them. There was compassion there, and Maggie wished she had taken the time to get to know Sarah better. “I’ve learned there’s nothing I can do to change the past, but I can take responsibility for today. By doing so, I can grasp onto tomorrow, too. My babies are safe in the arms of Jesus. When I think of them now, I think of them that way. And I look forward to the day—in God’s timing—when I’ll join them there.”

  Dr. Baker smiled at Sarah and looked around the room. Maggie had the uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at her, that they were all thinking how she was the only one in their midst who hadn’t shared yet. “Anyone else?”

  Say something, Maggie. It’s time you talked it thr
ough. She gritted her teeth … and suddenly the words were out before she could stop them. “I hate my husband.”

  Every member in the group was suddenly focused on Maggie. Dr. Baker cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it, Maggie?”

  Normally this was when the doctor would step in—especially if it was a person’s first time to share in front of the other group members. But Maggie didn’t want someone else summarizing her situation. She wanted to tell them. They had shared their hearts with her, their lives and losses. Now it was her turn. She nodded to Dr. Baker, then turned to face the group.

  “I’m here because I had a … well, a breakdown, I guess. All because of something that happened nearly eight years ago.”

  Maggie glanced from face to face and saw she had their undivided attention—and more than that, their empathy. They had each journeyed back in time at one point or another and found it almost unbearably painful. Now Maggie could see that they were there for her, ready to hold her up or hug her close or cry with her should her journey backwards become too difficult.

  She drew a deep breath and told them about falling in love with Ben, and how young and pure and ideal her intentions had been. How Ben had—for a time—chosen Deidre over her, and how she had taken up with John McFadden. She shared with them the fact that she’d gotten pregnant and how, for a brief while, she had considered keeping the baby.

  “I dreamed about her even then.” Maggie had come this far without tears, but now her eyes filled quickly. “I imagined what she’d wear, and how she’d look, and how it would feel to hold her in my arms. I was her mommy and even if everything else was falling apart I knew I’d be the best mother in the world. I l-l-loved her so much.”

  Sarah fell to her knees, shuffled across the circle, and took Maggie’s hand in hers. Dear God, how could I choose Ben over my very own baby? She closed her eyes tight, clinging to Sarah’s hand, and allowed the sobs to wash over her.

  After several minutes, Howard handed her a tissue and patted her back. “We’re here for you, Maggie. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Maggie blew her nose again and forced herself to continue her story. She told them about hiding the pregnancy from her parents while she thought about her options, how just when she was going to tell them the truth, she received the call from Ben.

  “He was a perfect man, at least I thought he was.” Maggie sniffled, and Sarah squeezed her hand. “When he told me he still loved me, I knew there was only one thing to do.”

  Dr. Baker had been quiet through most of the story, but she interrupted now. “Can you explain yourself, Maggie?”

  She nodded. “I lied to him. Told him I was going to Israel for a semester as an exchange student. Instead I went to Woodland, Ohio, moved in with a wonderful family, and finished my pregnancy.”

  More tears fell onto Maggie’s cheeks. “She had this tiny, perfect face. The most beautiful little girl I’d ever seen. And … ” Sarah leaned her head on Maggie’s knees.

  “Oh, God, how could I?”

  Dr. Baker waited while Maggie’s sobs subsided again. “You gave your baby up for adoption, is that right, Maggie?”

  “Everyone said adoption was the best choice … ”

  “It’s a wonderful choice for a vast number of women, young and old.”

  “But not for me! I loved her so much it killed me … handing her over to the social worker and watching her disappear from my life.” She sniffed loudly. “I gave her away for one reason only—so I could convince Ben I was the sweet, young virgin he’d always wanted to marry.”

  The room had grown quiet. “Is that why you feel so strongly about him now?”

  “Yes!” Maggie could hear the anger in her voice. Where’s this rage coming from, Lord? What’s happening to me? She drew a steadying breath. “I don’t ever want to see him again.”

  “So you blame him for having to give up your daughter, is that right?” Dr. Baker’s voice was calm, without accusation or judgment. Still Maggie felt a piercing sense of conviction.

  What? It is his fault. I would never have given her up, never have lied if it hadn’t been for him.

  “Definitely. He forced me to lie and made me give up my baby girl. I hate him.” Maggie’s voice rose. “I’ll hate him till the day I die. And when I’m out of here, the first thing I’m doing is filing for divorce.”

  Sarah made her way back to her seat and an uncomfortable quiet echoed through the room in the wake of Maggie’s statement.

  What was everyone’s problem? Wasn’t this where they were supposed to circle her and cry with her and help her get through it? Weren’t they supposed to agree with her and empathize with her? The familiar fog of darkness began to settle once more over Maggie’s mind and soul, and she fought the urge to dart from the room.

  Make them understand, God. Come on. I need Your help here.

  “Maggie? Can I say something?” It was Howard, and although Maggie had always seen him as floundering and pathetic, today he was sitting straight in his chair and his eyes held a serenity that Maggie hadn’t known since before her daughter’s birth.

  All eyes were on Howard, and Maggie nodded in his direction. “Sure.”

  Although he’d filled out somewhat during his stay at Orchards, Howard was still painfully thin, and he shoved the sleeves of his sweater up past his elbows as he prepared to speak. “Don’t take this wrong, Maggie. But after losing my family I’ve become certain of one thing—” he glanced at the others and Maggie saw them giving him silent encouragement to continue—“God wants families to last forever. Or until He takes one of you home. Have you—you know—have you ever explained any of this to your husband?”

  Suddenly, as though someone had thrown up a window blind, Maggie had a glimpse of the situation from Ben’s perspective. It was the first time since coming to Orchards that she’d even considered his side. Obviously he knew by now that she wasn’t receiving his calls or visits. But otherwise he knew nothing. Not about the lies she’d told or the baby she’d given up. Not even about how she blamed him for all that had gone wrong in the past eight years.

  She could picture him, see the worry on his face, in his eyes … the care and concern for her. She closed her eyes and pictured him, still loving her even as he struggled to figure out what had happened to them, to her. The image caused her burning hatred to cool some. For a moment.

  Then she blinked hard, and the images of Ben disappeared.

  She didn’t owe him an explanation! He didn’t love her, not really. He loved an image, someone he’d created in his mind—the perfect godly wife; the chosen virgin bride. But that wasn’t Maggie.

  No, she wouldn’t feel sorry for him. All of this was Ben’s fault.

  “That’s ridiculous, Howard.” The anger in Maggie’s voice was gone, but she felt the tension between her and the rest of the group.

  Dr. Baker looked at her watch. “Well, Maggie, maybe you can finish tomorrow. For now we better move on. I’ve got a passage in the book of Romans I’d like us all to take a look at … ” Bile was rising in Maggie’s stomach, and she was suddenly engulfed in a closet of anxiety. I can’t breathe in here, Lord. Get me out.

  Repent, My daughter. Come into the light of honesty and repentance.

  No! It’s not my fault! None of this would have happened if only—

  Everyone else had their Bibles open, but Maggie could no longer understand what they were saying. The darkness that had pursued her for so long was back and it was demanding something of her—something Maggie couldn’t understand. No, wait. This was different. This time it wasn’t really darkness at all. It was ominous, but not in an evil way …

  It was like the hand of God.

  Maggie tried to breathe but couldn’t, and in that moment she knew she had mere seconds before her entire breakfast would be on the floor. She stood quickly and grabbed her things. “I have to go now … ”

  Her words jumbled together and she couldn’t decide whether to run to the nearest bathroom or down the
hall and out into the courtyard for the air she so desperately craved.

  As she ran out of the room she felt her stomach heave, and she barely made it to the bathroom before the first wave of vomit shot from her body. She remained there, huddled on the floor, her face hanging over the edge of the toilet, while her stomach convulsed again and again. She might have stayed there longer, but when she was finally finished, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Maggie, are you okay?” She looked up and saw Dr. Baker.

  “I need air.”

  “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Dr. Camas wants to see you.”

  Something about the doctor’s tone made Maggie feel like a naughty child. She struggled to her feet and once more felt the familiar heaviness on her shoulders and back. She should never have talked to the group. Now she’d blown it for sure. They’d probably kick her out and tell her to find help somewhere else. Anger singed the edges of her heart.

  “Oh, I get it!” Maggie snatched a paper towel and wiped her face. “This is a Christian hospital, and I made the mistake of mentioning the fact that I hate my husband and can’t wait to divorce him.” She stared at herself in the mirror, then turned around slowly to face Dr. Baker. “They’re going to kick me out, right?”

  “Not at all.” Dr. Baker’s face broke into the most genuine smile Maggie had ever seen. “Dr. Camas heard about our session. He thinks you’ve reached a breakthrough.”

  23

  After wrestling with his decision most of the night, Ben chose to sleep in. Whoever Kathy Garrett was and whatever information she might hold, it would simply have to wait. By the time he showered and made his way across the street to Hap’s Diner for the Wednesday morning omelette special, Ben began doubting his decision to visit the Cincinnati courthouse at all.

  Ben set down his fork and from his seat along the counter he stared out the window through a layer of greasy residue, the same residue that seemed to cover nearly everything in the diner.