“I’m sorry for the building. This place isn’t much. See, I’m in med school and I have to keep my expenses down.”
“Couldn't you live with your parents or do they not live around here?" she asked.
“No.” He hesitated. “They’ve been gone since I was little.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. How in the world do you afford medical school by yourself then?" she asked. “Isn’t it awfully expensive?”
“Well I’ve managed to get a few scholarships and I work at a butcher shop, Scotty's, and I sell paintings occasionally." He was amazed at how easy it was to talk with the beautiful girl, once the conversation began.
“You paint too?" she asked, even more surprised.
“Yes,” he sputtered,” as he washed his face and hands in a kitchenette sink.
Jan was impressed at the cleanliness of the room, compared to the rest of the building. A unfinished painting stood on an easel near the front window. She walked toward it and examined it. Then she noticed a painting of a man with one leg sitting on the floor behind the easel. It was the same man that was in the painting in her apartment.
“Robert," she exclaimed, “I have a painting of this same man. I don’t believe this! You did this?" She turned and looked at him. “Of course! RG! You won't believe this, but you painted the picture that my brother gave me for my birthday.”
“No? You're kidding. You really have one of my paintings?" Robert was thrilled.
“Yes. The same man is standing on a street corner with a rose in his hand.”
“Oh, I did that one a few months ago." He finished washing his face and hands and took a clean shirt from a chest drawer. “That’s amazing.”
“I love that painting," she said. “You have to tell me about it. Who is the man? What’s the story behind the picture?" She lifted the painting from the floor to examine it, and was stunned when she saw the painting behind it. “My God, Robert, that’s Jenny!" she exclaimed.
“Yes. I told you that I had seen her before," he said. “I’ve seen her at a nursery near where I work. And you won’t believe this Jan. Let me show you a picture of my sister when she was little." He picked up a Bible from his coffee table and carefully removed a faded photograph. He handed the picture to Jan.
“My Lord! It’s the spitting image of Jenny," Jan exclaimed, “But it's a really old photograph. And it's really your sister?”
“Am I presentable enough?" he asked. He finished buttoning a clean shirt and was about to put on a baseball cap.
“You look just fine," she answered. “But why do you want to cover up that great looking hair with that cap." Robert had wavy black hair. He had worn a baseball cap since he was a teen.
“The man in the picture—he was my dad. I don‘t have a photograph of him. But that‘s how he looked, as best I remember. I‘ve put him in several paintings to keep his memory alive. He was a good man—lost a leg in the war. He really loved my mother."
“Look at this Robert. I just bought another of your paintings this afternoon to give to Stan." She took the clown painting from the pillowcase. “This is an unbelievable coincidence," she said.
Her mind was spinning. So was his.
“Yes it is," he replied. “Maybe it’s not a coincidence Jan. Maybe it's a God incidence.”
Jan looked at the Bible on his coffee table. It showed a lot of wear and had several page markers placed in it. She pointed at the book. “You read the Bible Robert?”
He was hesitant to answer the question for fear that she would think he was weird. “Yes. I do. I study the Bible,” he answered. He watched her face for any sign of disapproval. Instead, he saw a pleasant smile. “Quite a bit, actually," he added.
“That’s wonderful, Robert. So do I.”
“Ready to get something to eat? I’m starving," he said.
Chapter 29
The ambulance transporting Stan arrived shortly at Methodist Hospital. A nurse took Karen aside and questioned her at length about Stan’s medical history. When Karen mentioned that Stan recently had tests done at the hospital, the nurse hurriedly informed a physician who was examining Stan.
While the nurse was away, Karen telephoned Paula. “Pau, it's me,” Karen began.
“Have you located Stan?” Paula quickly asked.
“Yes, I'm at Methodist Hospital with him.”
“Why are you at the hospital?”
“It's involved Pau. I'll explain later. Listen. Jenny is with me and I could really use you to watch her until we get some things resolved. Could you come over here right away?”
“Yes, I’ll be there just as soon as I can, Kay," Paula replied.
A nurse came back into the room. “Mrs. Bronsky, Dr. Jarhuen thinks that your husband may have experienced a concussion. He’s ordered a MRI to check his head and upper spine. It may take a little while. You’re welcome to wait here, or you can go to a waiting room on the fifth floor, where Mr. Bronsky will be having the scan."
“We’ll go with Stan," Karen said without hesitation. “My friend, Paula, is coming to take my daughter home. Can you tell her how to find us when she gets here?”
“Yes. We’ll see that she finds you. You‘ll need to take the public elevator to the fifth floor. Your husband will be going up in a staff elevator." The nurse then directed Karen to an elevator. She found a waiting room outside the Imaging department and sat down with Jenny.
“Wahn cuh-hie," Jenny pleaded. Karen had completely forgotten about dinner and Jenny was hungry.
“Sweetheart, Aunt Pau is coming to take you to supper, okay?" Karen forced a smile as she squeezed Jenny’s small hand. She ran her fingers through the child‘s hair in a combing action.
God, I haven’t even washed the smoke and soot from her face. “Come with Mommy, sweetie, and let’s clean you up a little for Aunt Pau." Karen found a restroom and washed Jenny’s face. She thought about how close she came to losing her precious child in the fire. That caused her to remember the brave unselfish action of the stranger whom she had so misjudged. Lord, Did I even thank him? Did I even thank you?
*****
“Hi Kay, hi Jenny," Paula greeted as she entered the waiting room. She hugged them both. “What’s going on, Kay? Fill me in.”
“Stan is having a MRI right now, Pau. But it’s a long story. There was a fire and Jenny was trapped in our car. Stan was accidentally knocked unconscious trying to save Jenny and may have a concussion. A stranger saved Jenny. My car was destroyed. Can I tell you the rest later? Jenny is hungry and I can’t possibly leave Stan right now. He was knocked unconscious before I even had a chance to speak to him. He may have a concussion.”
Just then A nurse came into the waiting room. “Mrs. Bronsky?" She looked at Karen, then at Paula.
“I’m Karen Bronsky.”
“Your husband has started to regain consciousness. We told him that you were waiting. He asked to see you.”
“Oh, thank God! Karen exclaimed and jumped to her feet.
“You’ll have to make it quick though," the nurse cautioned. “We’ve got to get him back to ER right away.
“What about Jenny, our daughter? Can she come too?”
“I think it might be better to wait until later," the nurse said.
“I’ll take Jenny, Kay. You go on," Paula said.
“Come Jen, let’s go get something to eat." Jenny eagerly reached for Paula’s arms.
“Here Pau, take my apartment key and wait there for me. Okay? If you don’t mind, would you try to clean her up and change her? Her pajamas are in the top chest drawer in her room.”
“Sure, sweetie. Just call me soon as you know something.”
Karen followed the nurse to where Stan was being carefully moved from an MRI machine onto a stretcher. As soon as he was secured and covered, Karen moved around to where she could see his face.
“Karen. I—" His voice was weak and halting.
“Don’t try to talk now Stan. Oh God, I’m so sorry for what’s happened to you. And I’m so sorry for my—" She looked around at two nurse aides. They stepped a few feet away.
“It’s okay Karen," Stan managed to say softly. “Just bad luck.”
“I know. But I—" Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Stan, I love you. I’m so, so, sorry." She gently placed her hand on his head.
Stan closed his eyes. It had been so long since he heard Karen speak those words to him. He wanted to talk more but pain was overpowering his ability to think or speak. He tried to form a smile. It was barely detectable.
“We better get him back to ER," One of the nurses interrupted. “You can meet us down there.”
Karen wiped her eyes as she followed the public path back to the emergency room. She was lost in thoughts. A muffled intercom page for Dr. Griedlach didn't register with her. She had barely returned to the small waiting room in ER, when a tall red haired man in a business suit stepped into the room.
“Mrs. Bronsky?" he questioned.
“Yes, I’m Karen Br…”
“Hi. I’m Dr. Griedlach. I‘m a neurologist. I don’t believe we’ve met." He looked at her inquisitively.
She shook her head. “No. But Dr. Ravit mentioned your name," she replied.
He brushed his red hair back with his left hand and extended his right hand to Karen. “Mrs. Bronsky, I happened to be seeing another patient in the hospital this evening and Dr. Jarhuen, asked me to look at your husband.
“As I’m sure you know, I saw your husband recently in my office. We did some tests to try to determine why he has been having severe headaches. We concluded, based on MRI results, that the headaches were being caused by foreign matter deep in his brain. We speculated that it was shrapnel from an old military service injury. It appears from the MRI that was just done, that we may have been wrong in our previous diagnosis. I just ordered another scan to confirm.”
He studied Karen’s face to see if she understood what he had just told her. She looked puzzled.
“Doctor, why do you think you made a mistake before and what do you think is wrong with Stan now?" she asked. “I was told by an ER nurse that he may have a concussion.”
“Well, he’s definitely had a recent head trauma and that's treatable—serious, but not critical. And we’re addressing that. He also has a badly ruptured cervical disk which we recognized in previous scans. But, the MRI that was just completed doesn’t show the same thing that we saw before at the brain stem, the thing we thought to be shrapnel. There’s nothing there at all now. We have to decide which scan is correct. So we’re doing a third one, using a different machine." He ran his fingers through his thick hair. “If this scan is clear, then it’s entirely possible, that the cause of your husband’s headaches is the ruptured disk in his lower neck. That is quite treatable with surgery. I’m praying that’s the case. I encourage you to do the same." He gently patted Karen on the shoulder and turned to leave the room. “I’ll be back when a new scan is complete".
‘I encourage you to do the same,’ she replayed his words in her mind.
Karen had never had a formal time or method of prayer. She never really thought about talking to the one true sovereign God. Her past prayers consisted of short requests in emergency situations, or sometimes, of less than sincere ‘thanks’ to a abstract entity. She had never thought about prayer as a heart to heart conversation with the God who created the universe and all that is in it— including her. She was about to do so now. She found a vacant restroom nearby, went in, and locked the door.
Karen looked at her disheveled face and hair in a mirror. Oh God, just look at me, she thought. Suddenly a light flashed in her mind. ‘Oh God‘? I said the words to myself just now, as though it had no more meaning than oh or wow. And she realized that she had used the word 'God' the same casual way, countless times in the past. For the first time in her life, she really thought about ‘God’ as a word that described her personal maker and not just another moniker like ‘The Man Upstairs’. She lowered her head, closed her eyes and tried to envision the face or image of God. She was unable to conjure up a suitable one.
“God," she whispered softly and with hesitation, “I’ve known about you since I was little. But I don’t really know you. I wish that I did. I wish that I could see you—touch you—feel you. I don’t know if I truly believe that you’re listening to me or not. I think I do. I surely want to. If you’re there, if you hear me God, I need your help. We need your help—Stan and I. I’m sorry that I’ve used your name so carelessly in the past, without really thinking about what I was doing. I promise, I’ll try to not ever do that again. “Thank you God for saving Jenny. For sending that man, to save her. I know it had to be you."
Tears streamed down her face. They were tears of joy because Jenny was alive and tears of anxiety, gratitude and humility. And there were tears of remorse for her many misunderstandings.
“Can you— No, I know you can. Will you help Stan now, God? Please! We need him. I need him, so very, very much. I don’t know how I can ever make it without him, God. I’m so sorry that I was so wrong about him, and about Jan, and about the man you sent to save Jenny. I've got so much that I need to make up for—to everyone. Will you help me to not ever do anything like that again." Tears continued to flow as she softly spoke.
“Mrs. Bronsky? Are you in there?" a nurse said as she knocked on the restroom door.
“Yes. I’ll be out in just a second," Karen sputtered. She quickly splashed water on her face, dried it, and opened the door.
“Dr. Griedlach wants to see you again," the nurse informed. Karen anxiously followed the nurse back to a small exam room where Stan was being checked by Dr. Griedlach.
“Mrs. Bronsky, I’ve got great news." the doctor said. “The second MRI and CT scan have verified that there’s absolutely nothing wrong in Stan’s brain! We don’t really understand it. It's possible that a equipment glitch occurred during earlier tests. Or, if you believe in miracles and answered prayer, then perhaps that’s the answer. As of right now, Stan’s only problems are the minor concussion from this evening, and two herniated cervical disks. As soon as Stan recovers enough from the concussion, we need to do surgery on those disks. He ought to be good as new in a few days.”
“Oh, thank you, Dr. Griedlach!" Karen exclaimed. She threw her arms around the doctor and hugged him affectionately. Then she looked down at Stan, who was very groggy. She lowered her face to his and kissed him repeatedly. She raised her head slightly and looked into his drowsy eyes.
Oh Stan, It’s going to be alright. We're going to be alright," she said, as tears of joy filled her eyes.
Stan raised a trembling hand to touch her face and managed a loving smile.
###
The End
Dear Reader,
I do hope that you have enjoyed reading my book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If so, would you please recommend it to your friends at school, work, church, social website, etcetera.
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I hope to publish a sequel to this book soon. Send me an email if you are interested.
Billie Doyle
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