Grant was still unavailable when Christy and Curt reached the hospital. Because of this and the lack of time to do otherwise, Christy was given a battery of papers to complete and sign, all while the nurse told her what was about to take place. Candy had al-ready been taken to surgery and was barely holding her own. Her blood pressure had steadily dropped to the point where the doctors knew they had come to the end of waiting. If the baby was to survive, they would have to take it now. With a shaky hand, Christy filled in the appropriate information, glancing from time to time at Curt as though looking for reassurance.
“What about your parents?” Curt questioned after the nurse had left the room.
Christy grimaced. “Dad is in Australia with his latest wife. His job is very demanding, and he can’t leave. It’s typical for him, and the only reason we called him was to be able to say we did it.”
“And your mother?”
“I let Erik call her. She’s in Europe.”
With nothing more to say about the matter, they sat in the sterile silence of the private waiting room. This, Christy thought, is where they isolate the family who is about to lose someone to death. This is where they keep you so you can’t upset everyone else when you get the bad news.
Christy was grateful when Erik showed up. Refusing to have anything further to do with her brother-in-law, she gave Erik the job of trying to find Grant and took up the duty of pacing the room for herself.
Everything in her life was about to change. How could she prepare herself? Within a short time she would be responsible for a baby. Not her own baby, but her dying sister’s baby. What in the world gave her the impression that she could take on such a job? Feeling panic rise like bile in her throat, Christy looked once again to the stalwart man who’d pledged to see her through this ordeal. Curt sat silently nearby, never once trying to force her to sit. He seemed to understand her needs. He nodded at her as if to say, “Yes, I’m still here, and I always will be.” It gave her a fragment of peace, and she took a deep breath before she began to walk the confines of the room again.
With Erik spending most of his time down the hall at a pay phone, Christy was very aware of her privacy with Curt. All at once, she stopped, looked at him for a moment, then came to sit on the edge of the sofa beside him.
In her mind were questions. Questions about life after death and Candy and Erik’s understanding about what would happen. Suddenly it was very important for Christy to understand as well.
“Curt,” she began softly, “you said that you were a Christian.” He nodded. “So you know about this eternal life stuff, right?”
Curt smiled. “Yeah, I know about it.”
“Candy told me that Erik had helped her to understand and that she wasn’t afraid anymore. You know—about what would happen after she died.” Christy felt as though she were rambling. “I just wondered, what is it that she understood? How can she not be afraid?”
Curt took hold of Christy’s cold hands and rubbed them gently. “She knows where she’s going,” he offered casually.
“Candy no doubt accepted Christ as her Savior. Are you familiar with the plan of salvation?”
“Not really,” Christy admitted. “I’ve heard about getting saved and the fires of hell and all of that, but I don’t really understand or know much about it.”
Curt wasn’t the least bit condemning for her ignorance, and Christy took a genuine interest in what he shared with her next. “God sent His Son, Jesus, into the world. It was a gift that He offered in order to help people reconcile themselves to Him. Jesus’ sole purpose was to come and bridge the gap between God and mankind, and it cost Him His life so that it wouldn’t cost us ours.”
“But everybody dies,” Christy said, as though it would be news to Curt.
“Sure,” Curt nodded, “everyone dies once. The Bible says that’s something that happens because of our physical limitations. But we don’t have to die twice.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Spiritually. The Bible was talking about spiritual death. If you accept Christ as your Savior and bridge that gap to God, you don’t have to die spiritually and be forever separated from God. People sometimes get all wrapped up in the image of hell as this burning place with the devil and his pitchfork. They shudder in revulsion at that image, yet they miss the bigger picture. Hell isn’t just physical suffering and torment; it’s separation from God. It’s the ultimate realization that you have completely negated your existence in God’s eyes.”
Christy stared at him for a moment. “If God is so good, why doesn’t He just fix things permanently with people so that they won’t go to hell?”
“Because He gives us a choice. He doesn’t force a relationship on us. He lets us taste of His goodness, His peace, and His love. Then He lets us decide for ourselves.”
“But if that’s true,” Christy said, trying desperately to sort through Curt’s statement, “if God is truly offering all this wonderful goodness, why would anyone choose any other way?”
Curt smiled. “Good question. Ask yourself, what keeps me from giving my life to God? Maybe you’ll find the answer to your own question.”
Just then, Erik returned. “I finally reached Grant on his car phone. He’s on his way up.”
Christy nodded and moved away from Curt. “I think I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.”
“I was just about to suggest some coffee,” Erik replied. “Curt, you want to join me?”
“Sure,” he answered and looked at Christy. “We’ll bring you back some.”
“Thanks,” she murmured and went to stare out the window into the Denver night.
This God stuff was new to her in many ways, and in other ways it wasn’t at all foreign. Erik had tried on more than one occasion to talk to her about Christianity. Christy remembered telling him that she wasn’t interested—that he might need God, but she certainly didn’t. Now she wasn’t so sure.
Minutes ticked by, and Christy wondered silently why God had brought her to this point in her life. She’d been so many places and done so many things, and yet, all in all, this was the hardest.
“So what seems to be the problem now?”
Christy whirled around to find Grant standing there, looking for all the world like he was bored.
“Your wife is about to die, and your baby is about to be born,” Christy replied sarcastically. She came to Grant and stood only inches from him. “We just thought you might like to know.”
“The only thing I want to know is whether or not you have my money.” Grant’s statement clarified any possibility that he felt concern about the situation.
“I’m working on it,” Christy spat the words. “You could at least pretend you care about them.”
“Why? To salve your conscience? To make this easier for you and your brother? I don’t think so,” Grant said in a heartless manner and looked at his watch. “I just want the matter settled. I haven’t got time for games.”
“This isn’t a game!” Christy exclaimed.
“Keep your voice down,” Grant said, taking on a threatening appearance. “I don’t need any hassles, Christy. Just get me the money, or you’ll never see the baby. It’s that simple.”
Curt had returned with Christy’s coffee, but seeing her with the stranger, he held back in the shadows just outside the waiting room. He could see that Christy was mad. She was ranting at the man, who stood with his back to the door. Curt realized it was probably her brother-in-law and started to go into the room, but something held him back. If it was her brother-in-law, then this was the man he was after. This man, Grant Burks, was possibly the man responsible for his parents’ death, and Curt wasn’t about to let him get away by blowing his cover.
It looked as though they were about to end their conversation, so Curt moved away from the room and waited out of sight. He watched and nearly dropped the coffee, however, as the man turned to stalk out of the room. It wasn’t Grant Burks at all. It was Cheryl Fairchild’s fiancé, Stratton McFarland.
Curt started to approach the man, then thought better of it. Turning away as Stratton rushed by, Curt could hardly wait to get back to Christy and find out why she had been arguing with McFarland.
Christy appeared shaken and was even more reserved than before when Curt approached her with the coffee. “Who was that?” he mo-tioned with his head in the direction McFarland had just disappeared.
“That was my brother-in-law, Grant,” Christy said, taking the coffee from Curt’s hand.
Curt began to put two and two together and didn’t like what he came up with. Grant Burks was posing as Stratton McFarland, or vice versa. Either way, he was living two completely different lives, with women at both ends and an uncertain, but obvious, relationship to the drugs that had cost Curt’s mother and father their lives.
“Christy,” Curt suddenly found himself saying, “what do you really know about him?”
“Grant?”
“Yes,” Curt said, his eyes narrowing in concentrated interest. “Have you known him long?”
“Not long, really. About a year I guess. He and Candy met through mutual friends and were married nearly a month later. They eloped and didn’t even bother to tell anyone until they were back from their honeymoon. Why?”
“I was just curious,” Curt replied.
“Where’s Erik?” Christy asked, completely unconcerned with Curt’s questions about Grant.
“He said he’d be here shortly. Here he is now,” Curt said and nodded toward the door. Erik entered with the doctor, who Curt immediately recognized as the man who was to perform Candy’s surgery. Erik had tears on his face.
“Your sister gave birth to a little girl,” the doctor said softly. “She appears to be healthy and strong. Erik tells me that Candy wanted to name her Sarah.”
“Yes,” Christy whispered and felt Curt come to stand beside her.
“Well, they’ve taken Sarah to the intensive care nursery where she’ll be monitored and given all of the attention she needs. You can visit her there every day, and I encourage you to start bonding to her immediately. That is, if you’re still going to be the one who adopts her.”
“I am,” Christy said, hardly able to say the words that followed. “What about my sister?”
The doctor shook his head. “She lasted much longer than any of us expected, but she just wasn’t strong enough to last through the surgery.”
Christy stood bone stiff, not even breathing.
“I’m sorry, Miss Connors. It’s never easy to lose someone you love.”
“I want to see her,” Christy blurted out. All three men looked at her questioningly.
“The baby will need to be cleaned up and evaluated before I can let you see her,” the doctor said.
“No,” Christy replied and turned to Curt, “I want to see my sister. I need to say good-bye.”
Curt nodded and looked to the doctor. “It’s all right. I’ll be with her.”
“Me, too,” Erik chimed in possessively.
The doctor drew a deep breath. “I’ll have the O.R. team clear out and then take you back.”
Minutes later, Curt led Christy, with Erik following close behind, to the small recovery room where Candy’s body had been moved. Thought-fully, the doctor had already pulled the sheet down to lie just under Candy’s serene face. She looks like she’s only sleeping, Christy thought. She reached out to touch her sister’s still warm cheek. Didn’t dead people get all cold and stiff?
Christy shook her head mutely. The doctor was saying something, but she couldn’t hear it. Her mind was blurred with the images of a little girl dancing around the room, showing off her frilly dress, talking about her new doll. Candy was gone, and all that remained were fuzzy memories and a tiny infant girl who they would call Sarah.
Erik cried openly, but Christy had no tears. She needed to accept this death, but in her heart there were still too many unanswered questions. Erik finally left, unable to deal with the emotions of the moment, but Curt remained by her side.
“I’m here, Sissy,” Christy whispered, bending down to Candy’s ear. She smoothed Candy’s hair back as though she were still alive.
Reaching under the sheet, Christy gripped Candy’s hand tightly. There were no words. No words at all. She just stood there, staring into the face of death and a lifetime of love. Oh, Candy, she thought, you can’t really be gone!
After several minutes, Curt gently removed Candy’s hand from Christy’s and led her out the door. Christy could barely make her legs walk beside Curt down the long hospital corridor. She just couldn’t accept that Candy was dead.
She said nothing as they moved out into the night air. The parking garage where Curt had left his car seemed to take forever to reach. Christy felt her head grow strangely dizzy. Her legs felt as though they were weighted rubber. They’d nearly reached the car when Christy stopped.
“Are you okay?” Curt asked and reached over to lift her face to see her better in the dim parking garage light.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Christy whispered, trying desperately to focus her eyes.
“You mean throw up?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and reaching out to fight the gravity that was pulling her downward. “I think I’m going to faint.”
Curt put his hands under her arms and pulled her forward. “Christy, just close your eyes, and it’ll be all right. I’ll carry you to the car.”
“No,” she whimpered against his hold. “I can walk. I never do this. I can’t stand fainty women. I have to fight it.”
“It’s okay to be a fainty woman if you have a reason like you do.”
“I have to be strong.”
Christy was still unable to move, and Curt finally ignored her pleading and lifted her into his arms. “You can be strong tomorrow,” he said insistently, “but right now, you’ll let me take care of you.”
Christy snuggled against him, feeling the blackness lift just a bit. Yes, she thought, I’ll let Curt take care of me, just this once.