Читать книгу The Test of Love - Irene Brand - Страница 9

Wondering what had possessed her to make such a suggestion, Connie hurried toward the cafeteria. She’d never picnicked alone with another patient!

“Hi, Rose,” she called as she entered the kitchen. “Could you pack a lunch for me? Mr. Caldwell isn’t ready for exercise this afternoon, and I suggested taking him on a picnic at Paddy’s Point.”

Connie fidgeted while Rose rummaged in the cabinets and refrigerator. Was it too late to change her mind? Or did she have a mind where Joseph was concerned? Joseph was like no man she’d ever known, and her behavior was worse than a girl with her first teenage crush.

“Here you are,” Rose said, approaching with a small basket. “Cold grilled chicken breasts, tomatoes, apples, bread, yogurt and iced tea. Anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. I didn’t expect a feast on such an impromptu request.”

Connie hurried away before Rose could ask any questions. The ATV hadn’t been used for a couple of weeks, but the motor started on the first try, and Connie drove it out of the garage and stopped in front of the dorm. She fastened the basket on the rear of the vehicle.

Connie hurriedly went to the apartment to change into jeans, and Joseph was waiting by the vehicle when she returned.

“Are you sure you don’t want to drive?” she asked. “I’ve only operated this thing a few times.”

He shook his head. “We have an ATV at the ranch, and I can give you advice if you need it. I don’t want to risk hurting my leg by driving, but a four-wheeler isn’t much rougher than a truck. Drive slowly, and there won’t be any problem.”

Still with some hesitation, she held Joseph’s arm while he carefully and slowly lifted his left leg over the driver’s seat, perched over the rear wheels of the ATV, and stretched out his injured limb. Once he was settled, Connie sat on the padded seat behind the wheel. Joseph hardly knew what to do with his hands, but Connie said, “Put your arms around my waist. I’ll try to drive carefully, but you need to be able to steady yourself.”

Joseph did as she said, but not without misgiving. Had he suffered a momentary mental relapse to agree to this strenuous excursion? And what about the injury to his heart—a heart already bruised and vulnerable? But he gritted his teeth, determined to endure with composure any pain to his injured hip or any emotional stress incurred from physical nearness to Connie.

When she’d always advised her staff to avoid personal encounters with their patients, Connie was hard put to understand why she’d suggested this outing with Joseph. There wasn’t anything she could do now, but she vowed that this was just a one-time incident. Regardless of today’s outcome, she would know better in the future. With these thoughts, she salved her conscience as, mindful of Joseph’s injury, she put the vehicle slowly into motion. But her conscience didn’t have to deal, as Connie did, with Joseph’s soft breath on her neck, the firmness of his arms around her waist, nor the strength of his hands clasped in front of her.

Joseph needed NLC, but Connie didn’t need the frustrations his presence provoked, and she wondered how she could endure three months of daily interaction with him and retain a strict patient-therapist relationship. Did she have the strength to remain dispassionate to this man who’d captivated her thoughts since the first day she’d met him?

When they entered the forest behind the chapel, the trail curved steadily upward. Connie shifted into a lower gear and glanced over her shoulder.

“Okay?”

“Not a twinge so far. You’re a careful driver.”

“Paddy’s Point is only two miles on this trail, but it’s too far for you to walk,” she shouted, as she revved the motor and moved forward. The vehicle lurched into a small ditch, and Joseph’s chin bumped into Connie’s head.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Did that jolt your leg?” she yelled, for the noise of the engine was deafening.

“Don’t worry about me—I’m fine.”

They soon arrived at a scenic spot, where a few years earlier, a forest fire had destroyed the tall trees, making way for a new stand of aspens and pines. Several miles to the west, the mountains around Berthoud Pass lifted their majestic peaks skyward. A small table and two benches provided a resting place for patients who jogged along this path. They were hailed by a couple of teenagers from Lakewood, who came to NLC daily to work out in the gym and test their endurance by climbing Faith Mountain and jogging back on the reservoir trail.

Joseph grunted as he laboriously raised his injured limb and eased off the four-wheeler. Connie stood by, ready to assist him if necessary. Joseph gasped, grabbed his cane for support, and stood for a few minutes before he limped to the table and sat heavily on the bench facing westward. When Connie brought the food basket, his eyes were fixed on the distant mountains, but noting the bleakness expressed on his face, she surmised he wasn’t observing the beauty of nature.

“It’s hard for me not to be angry when I see those two kids running down a trail like that, when I can’t even walk.”

Ever conscious of the purpose of NLC—to heal the body and the spirit—Connie pondered her reply as she spread a cloth on the table and set out the food items Rose had packed for them.

“Was the accident your fault?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he said indignantly. “I was taking my wife to the hospital, and we were traveling in a blizzard, with visibility at zero level. A truck came around a curve in the road, skidded, and we hit head-on.”

“Then, why are you carrying around a load of guilt?”

“Hey,” Joseph said angrily. “Are you a psychiatrist? My mind doesn’t need to be healed. I don’t want you probing around.”

“I’ve had a lot of psychology training, and I told you the first day that we work with the spirit as well as the body. It’s a two-fold program. I’m not interested in your past,” and as Connie said the words, she doubted she was being completely truthful, “but you strike me as a man who has a load of worry on his mind. Even Dr. Melrose’s report indicated as much, but he wasn’t specific.”

He didn’t answer, and Connie said, “When you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen, but let’s have our picnic and enjoy the beauty of God’s creation. Tomorrow, you start the hard stuff, so you need relaxation today.”

Ignoring his silence, Connie offered a brief prayer of thanks for the food. On a paper plate, she laid a piece of chicken, a slice of bread, quartered one of the tomatoes and placed it in front of him.

“I hope you like iced tea—that’s all I have except water.”

He nodded, his face still gloomy. She placed the plate and beverage in front of him.

He sipped the tea. “No sugar?” Joseph asked grumpily.

Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Connie reached in the basket. “One or two packets?”

With a sheepish grin, he said, “I don’t want any sugar. I’m wallowing in self-pity, and I was ready to be angry if you told me I couldn’t have any sugar.”

Connie’s laugh bubbled. “You told me you’d be cantankerous, but I didn’t expect you to be childish.”

He laughed lowly, and Connie was glad he hadn’t taken offense at her words. “You might as well learn the worst about me as soon as possible. Sit down and eat your lunch. You don’t have to wait on me. I’ve prepared more than one meal for myself.”

Connie sat beside Joseph, and made a sandwich of the chicken and bread.

Still moody, Joseph said, “I don’t suppose you know what’s it’s like to have your life put on hold—everything you want to do pushed on the back burner—your whole life disrupted in a matter of seconds.”

Connie nibbled on a tomato wedge before she said, “As a matter of fact, I do, but I don’t want to talk about that now.”

“So you understand why I didn’t want to talk about the accident—it’s still too painful.”

“Certainly, I understand. I’m not pushing you.”

Except for an occasional comment about the food, they ate in silence until their initial hunger was sated. The serenity and the beauty of the spot soothed Joseph. His leg pained him, and he dreaded climbing back on the ATV for the downhill ride, but except for that, he was comfortable with Connie. He experienced peace and contentment he hadn’t known in years. How much should he tell her? Or should he tell her anything?

“I won’t talk about the time my future plans were disrupted,” Connie said, disturbing his thoughts, “but I do understand how frustrating a physical disability can be. I know from experience how difficult it is to be unable to walk properly.”

He turned to stare at her, his gray eyes incredulous. “I can’t believe you’ve ever been sick a day in your life.”

“Oh, but I have. When I was born, my left leg was shorter than the other, and I limped badly when I started walking. My parents were afraid I’d always be crippled, but they were people of prayer, and they made up their minds that they wouldn’t accept my disability as permanent. So they prayed for my healing, and asked others to pray, and I sincerely believe that the reason I’m walking normally today is due to Divine healing. I went through a rough childhood at fitness centers, taking stretching exercises and strengthening my body in general.”

Joseph’s expression softened to hope. “And that’s all it took?”

“Not exactly. They kept me on a strict diet so I wouldn’t gain weight, and gradually my leg lengthened. One day, when I was ten years old, I was reading the Bible incident about Jesus healing a man’s arm, and I actually felt my leg stretch until it was the same length as the other one.”

Joseph’s face registered skepticism as she talked, so she was surprised at his next comment.

“He said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored.”

Connie’s eyebrows lifted. “So you are familiar with the Bible!”

“When I was a child, my parents forced me to spend every Sunday afternoon memorizing Bible verses, and that was enough Scripture to last a lifetime. I haven’t read the Bible since I left home.”

Considering his attitude, Connie wondered how she could encourage spiritual and physical healing in a man who had so definitely turned away from God’s word.

“You were completely healed?” Joseph asked.

“Yes, but the left leg isn’t as strong as the other one, so I’ve continued my exercise program. God did his part, and I do mine.”

“And that’s why you became a physical therapist?”

She nodded. “I’d been in and out of gyms most of my life, learning the importance of maintaining a strong, healthy body. When it was time for me to decide on a career, I remembered the story of the four men who brought their friend to Jesus for healing. Jesus forgave the man’s sins before He cured his disability, saying He healed the man when He saw the faith of his friends. I believe spiritual commitment has a great deal to do with the health of the body, and that God enables His followers to bring about that healing.”

Joseph removed the cover and took several bites of the strawberry yogurt.

“I want to believe you’re right, and in my heart, I know you are. I resented my father’s authoritarianism, but the spiritual truths I learned as a child are still ingrained in my mind. I’ve become cynical, but it’s only skin-deep.”

“Since you believe that, you’re well on your way to recovery.”

Joseph didn’t speak again as he slowly scraped the last of the yogurt from the plastic container and picked up an apple. Connie welcomed the silence, for it gave her time to think. Although she’d thought this trip might be a mistake, it had given her important insight into Joseph’s character. He finished the last of his apple, and threw the core to a waiting raven that, for the last five minutes, had been hopping from one branch to another in a nearby tree, noisily making his presence known.

Without meeting Connie’s eyes, Joseph said, “You mentioned guilt—I feel no guilt about the automobile accident. My wife had been injured, the telephone lines were down because of the blizzard, and I was trying to take her to the hospital. The truck crossed the center line and hit our car. I couldn’t have avoided any of that.”

Obliquely, Connie glanced at her watch. They should leave soon to give Joseph time to rest before dinner, but this informal session might be Joseph’s most beneficial therapy, so she shifted her position on the narrow bench and listened intently.

“However, Virginia and I had been growing apart for a long time, and I let it happen. I feel guilty about that. I should have worked harder to make our marriage succeed.” He sighed deeply. “It’s too late to do anything about that, so I should let it go, but I can’t seem to.”

“You might remember this Scripture verse from your childhood. ‘Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.’”

He smiled grimly. “Yes, I remember that verse. It was easy to memorize the words, but it’s difficult to accept them as a rule for living.”

“We can’t change the past, as much as we might like to. Can’t you try to forget what happened and look to the future?”

“I intend to try, but it won’t be easy. What about you?” he continued, eyeing her skeptically. “Can you unload baggage from the past that’s troubling you?”

“As of now, I have. That sermon I preached to you found lodging in my own heart. I’d been debating a decision, but I’ve made it. No more vacillating.” The conversation had progressed into ticklish matters, and Connie started gathering up the picnic items.

“We should start back. I have some office work to finish, and you may want to swim or rest before dinner, depending on how you feel.”

Rubbing his leg, Joseph said, “Right now, I want to rest, and I doubt I’ll have changed my mind when we get back to NLC.”

Joseph’s leg had stiffened during the leisurely hour they’d enjoyed, and it took a lot of maneuvering to seat him on the four-wheeler. Sensing his discomfort, Connie drove slowly, but she heard him stifle a groan when she hit the brake quickly to avoid striking a deer that ran across the trail. When they arrived at the dorm, Connie turned off the engine and hopped off the ATV. Joseph stared at her, a ludicrous expression on his face, and he made no move to step down.

“Connie, I’ve always considered myself a level-headed person, and I can’t imagine why I ever consented to go riding on this ATV. The pressure on my body as we came down that trail has numbed my left leg. I can’t move.”

In spite of being alarmed at his statement, his perplexed expression amused her, and she grinned.

“I’ve doubted myself ever since I suggested the picnic. As your trainer, I should have known better. Do you suppose we have a bad effect on each other?”

He laughed. “That’s possible, but I can’t stay on this ATV the rest of my life, and I can’t move. What are we going to do?”

Contrite, Connie trotted to the other side of the ATV and started massaging his leg.

“At least, there’s some small gain—when the leg is numb, it doesn’t hurt,” Joseph said, still chuckling over his predicament.

They were startled by Dr. Alexander’s booming voice. “What are you two doing?” He towered over them, his face black as a thundercloud.

“Joseph and I went on a picnic to Paddy’s Point, and he can’t get off the ATV.”

Joseph flexed his leg. “It’s better now, but, Doctor, I need some help dismounting. I’ve had less trouble getting off a bucking horse.”

Dr. Alexander was a tall man, and as Connie supported and protected Joseph’s leg, the doctor lifted him off the ATV.

“Walk around and see if you notice any problem,” the doctor commanded.

Connie took Joseph’s arm, and walking with his cane, he said, “No worse than it was yesterday.

“In spite of the discomfort, I did enjoy the picnic,” Joseph said. “I admitted a few things I haven’t been able to put into words before.”

“That’s good. Mutual understanding is important between a trainer and patient. Try to get some rest before dinner.”

Joseph was already in the cafeteria when Connie entered the next morning, and Rose Nash sat beside him. Since they were deep in conversation, Connie waved and moved on to sit beside Kim and Eric.

“How’s your new patient doing?” Eric said.

“We start therapy this morning, and for the first time in my career, I’m afraid of failing.”

“Isn’t it too soon to consider that?” Eric asked.

“Of course, but I feel we’re Joseph’s last hope, and if I can’t help him, where else can he turn?”

Eric laughed lightly. “How about God? He’s our ultimate help. If we encourage Joseph to trust in God, regardless of his physical problems, all will be well.”

Connie flushed. “That was a careless remark for me to make. For a moment, I forgot the major emphasis here at NLC.”

“Eric,” Kim said, “perhaps you can befriend Joseph and help him with his spiritual problems.”

“I’ll do that, of course, because it’s my job, but I also want to do it for Joseph’s sake. He strikes me as a man with a lot to offer others, and we need to work toward his complete healing.”

Eric was an important addition to NLC, having joined the staff during the year. A slender man, with prematurely graying hair, his black eyes revealed not only his Creole heritage, but also his intense passion to help others mature spiritually.

Joseph finished eating before Connie did, and he stopped by their table.

“Meet me in front of the dorm in a half hour,” she said.

“Good,” he answered. “That will give me time to change into exercise clothes.” He lifted his hand in understanding. Connie soon finished her meal, deposited the tray on the rack near the kitchen and left the cafeteria. Ray Blazer was waiting for her beside the door.

“When are we going to talk?”

“Now is as good a time as any,” Connie answered. She walked away from the building, and when they were out of hearing of those leaving the dining hall, she said, “I will not resume our relationship. I’m happy this way—our engagement was a mistake, but I hope we can still be amicable associates. It isn’t good for NLC when we’re at odds.”

“You’re sure you want it that way?” he asked angrily.

“Yes.”

“What if I tell you I’m leaving?”

“I don’t want you to resign, but that decision is up to you. If tension between us affects the health of our patients, it will be best for you to leave.”

“So I’m good enough to manage your gym, but not good enough to marry,” he retorted angrily.

Ray stalked angrily toward the gymnasium. Another chapter in her life closed. “Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead…” Turning toward the dorm, she noticed that Joseph sat on a bench in front of the building, looking her way. Why did she mind that he’d witnessed her encounter with Ray?

She smiled at him. “Ready?”

“No, I haven’t been to my room. I had to rest.”

Contritely, she said, “I hope that trip on the ATV didn’t add to your discomfort.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. My injury isn’t any worse, but the least amount of exertion saps my energy.”

“Rest as long as you want to—we aren’t on a tight schedule this morning.”

When Connie left her room a half hour later, Joseph wasn’t in sight, but he soon joined her, dressed in denim shorts, a green knit shirt, and sturdy walking shoes.

“Good choice of clothing,” she said approvingly. “Let’s go this way.” She directed Joseph along a smooth-surfaced, shaded walk behind the administration building. Connie wore khaki shorts and shirt, and a water bottle hung at her waist.

“This is our easiest walking path,” she explained, “We have three other trails requiring various degrees of physical skill, and the test of your graduation from NLC is to climb Faith Mountain.”

Connie matched her steps to Joseph’s slow gait, and when they were out of sight of the buildings, she said, “Now, give me your cane.”

He paused, startled. “I can’t walk without it.”

“Have you tried?”

“Only a few steps without holding on to something.”

“You must start depending on your own strength instead of the cane.”

His facial muscles contracted into grim lines, and the skin whitened around his lips. He struggled with fear.

“What if I fall and end up worse off than I am now? I had a few nasty spills in the hospital when I was in therapy.”

Connie understood his hesitancy, for she remembered how frightened she’d been to trust her own strength when she was a child. “I can’t guarantee that you won’t fall, but I’ll walk beside you, and you can put your hand on my shoulder and lean on me.”

He handed her the cane, and she tucked it under her left arm. “Just swing your arms slowly and walk as naturally as you can,” she encouraged. He took a few experimental steps, and pain etched deep lines on his face.

Connie laid a hand on his shoulder, and her pulse quickened at the touch. You’re a trainer—he’s your patient! she reminded her heart. “I know that must hurt dreadfully,” she said, “but you have pain when you walk with the cane, don’t you?” He nodded and gritted his teeth. “There’s a bench up ahead. Look toward it as your goal—you can sit down as soon as you reach it.”

Joseph moved forward slowly, but relentlessly, and occasionally he grunted in pain. Once he stumbled, and Connie’s right arm circled his waist. “Put your arm on my shoulder now,” she commanded.

With her support, he walked the rest of the way and collapsed on the bench. Tears of pain and distress seeped from his closed eyelids. Connie sat beside him, took a towel from her pocket and mopped perspiration from his face. She placed the water bottle in his hand.

“Take a drink when you feel like it.”

With his eyes still closed, he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank several long gulps. Water dribbled down his face, and Connie wiped the drops from his chin.

Joseph’s heart pounded, and he knew the extra stress wasn’t all a result of the exercise. First, Connie’s arm around his waist, and now her gentle touch when she wiped his face, drove a small wedge in the barrier he’d built around his heart. Considering the problems he faced, the barrier had to remain intact, but it had been a long time since anyone had fussed over him, and her kindness soothed his troubled spirit.

“I’m so ashamed,” he said. “I haven’t been this weak since I was a baby. I’ve never depended on a woman for strength since my mother cut the apron strings.”

“I told you it’s sometimes necessary to change trainers. Some men resent taking help from a woman. It will be no problem to assign a man to take over your program.”

His eyes popped open. “I didn’t mean that. It’s humbling for me to depend on anyone. I want you to continue.”

“I wanted to give you a choice, but you must learn to trust me. I won’t ask you to do more than you’re capable of doing. One of the first steps in healing is to admit you need help and can’t handle your situation alone.”

He closed his eyes again. “I trust you.”

“But you must also trust God.” He didn’t respond.

Connie massaged Joseph’s neck and shoulders and waited for him to find the courage to go on, looking with pleasure around the little glade where they sat. The trail at this point was overhung by huge spruce trees, and a patch of wild roses bloomed in a sunny spot. Pink flowers grew in clusters on the young branches. A downy woodpecker, oblivious to their presence, dug in a tree trunk for insects. She’d always enjoyed this spot, but it seemed even more precious today, and looking at Joseph, she reluctantly admitted the man by her side had made the difference.

Joseph breathed deeply, and Connie thought he slept, for he jumped when a Steller’s jay flew into the tree above them, announcing its arrival in strident tones.

Joseph stirred and opened his eyes. “Shall we go on?” he asked reluctantly.

Connie grinned at him. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it, but I would like for you to continue to the next resting spot. If you make a round-trip to that point, you’ll have walked a quarter of a mile.”

He struggled to his feet, his hand on her shoulder.

“It feels like a streak of fire is running up and down my leg, but I’ll try to make it to the next bench.” He peered at her. “If I can’t make it on my own, will you carry me back to the dorm?”

She smiled at him. “I won’t have to carry you. You’ll manage. Do you want your cane?”

“Not yet.”

Connie laid the cane on the bench. “I’ll leave it here until we come back.”

He looked longingly at the cane, but with an effort, he started walking. “It gets easier after I’ve taken a few steps.”