The Parting Gift(6)

The trees lining the driveway back to the house swayed. Orange and yellow leaves scattered in front of her. Suddenly, her chest was heavy with dread. How does one deliver news such as she carried?

Months ago she would most likely have run back into the house and thrown this bit of information in David’s face.

Upon their introduction he had been an angry, belligerent and bitter man wanting help from no one. On several occasions he had thrown his food straight at Mara’s head, amidst a torrent of curses which would make a sailor blush.

With the realization that his bitterness was rooted far deeper than she could handle on her own, Mara began praying for him. The result was a change in the way she interacted with him.

Each time he had one of his fits, Mara would move to his bedside, pat his hand, and say, “It’s going to be just fine, Mr. Graham. I’m here.”

Gradually, he began to respond to her gentleness.

She tried to conjure up a smile as she approached the front door. How many times had she done this same thing over the past several days? And old Mr. Graham, tender—hearted Mr. Graham, would say, “Did you find anything?” She would shake her head no, and the light in his eyes would dim.

He said his son would never forgive him.

Mara wasn’t willing to give up. Everyone deserved forgiveness.

Taking a soothing breath, she walked into the large two-story house and began ascending the stairs like she had so many times before.

When she first came to David she had been told he had six months to live at the most. After the first month she was ready to quit. By the time the second month was almost through, David broke at last – A relief, considering she was getting ready to start slipping sleeping aids into his orange juice.

“Mara?” he had said.

She had walked to his side and pressed her palm to his forehead. “Yes, Mr. Graham? Are you feeling all right?”

A single tear ran down his cheek. Shaking his head, he let out a long string of coughs, then sighed, “You’re just like her.”

“Who?” Mara asked as she adjusted his blankets.

“Emily. My wife. She died when my—” he paused and looked out the window. “I have a son, you know.”

And that was when David told her of his life. The mistakes he had made. The life he had led – the anger and bitterness which had consumed him and kept him from being a father to his own grieving son. He told her of the way he had turned his back on God, and how all of these things had resulted in the loss of his son.

“Do you know what I think, Mr. Graham?”

He swallowed and shook his head.

“Bitterness has done more damage than your illness. I’m more worried about your heart.”

“Me too, Mara. Me too.” And with that David broke down into gut-wrenching sobs. Hours later, Mara opened her Bible and prayed with him. They’d been close ever since.

Approaching David’s door now, Mara prayed for strength then promptly pasted a bright smile onto her face. “And how’s my favorite patient today?”

“Grumpy,” David answered, crossing his arms.

“Grumpy?” Mara laughed. “And why are you grumpy?”

“My nurse was gone for over an hour, and I didn’t have anyone to read to me.” His eyes twinkled.

“And you can’t pick up a book and read yourself?”

“I like your voice better.”

“You old Casanova,” Mara huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed. The man had enough charisma to charm anyone regardless of age, though most of the time it had to do with sneaking extra pie away from the kitchen or trying to talk her out of giving him more nasty-tasting medicine. She took his hand and squeezed.

“Mr. Graham, I...” Her eyes searched his. Maybe he would understand without her saying the words. She prayed for God to intervene.

“Say, do you want to play gin rummy?” David reached for the cards as Mara mouthed a thank you, God into the air.

They played for an hour before Mara informed David it was time for his nap.

“I’m not a child you know.” He yawned. “And I’ll have you know, I’m not even tired.”

Mara raised a quizzical brow and crossed her arms.

“Oh, fine… don’t get your britches in a bunch.”

She walked to the door and turned down the light. “I’ll wake you for supper. Try to rest for a while okay?”

“Rest. Hmph. I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

Rolling her eyes, Mara shut the door behind her.



****



David watched as the door clicked shut. The room felt heavier without her bubbly presence. Groaning, he turned on his side to get more comfortable. Light crept through the green drapes onto his bed. Everything around him had a way of reminding him of his sickness—of the time lost. It was near impossible for him to go an hour without feeling guilty over what happened so long ago.

Would he have even sent a letter to Blaine had it not been for Mara? The new, changed man inside of him said otherwise; the old bitterness seemed to have been from another lifetime. Yet it was still there. He could still feel his heart skip a beat just like the day when Blaine left him.

For years he had hoped Blaine would return to him. As time passed, his bitterness and anger increased, until he reached the point of not wanting to acknowledge Blaine’s existence any longer. It was too painful to remember. The same way it had always been too painful to remember Emily.