19

The wires and beeping monitors swallowed Peeps, his face gray and unresponsive. Scott rushed to his side. I took a spot against the wall with Toppy, out of the way.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“He was fine, chatting away, then kind of yelped, and closed his eyes.” Toppy squeezed worried tears from his eyes with his thumbs. “They think he had a heart attack.”

A nurse watched the oxygen and heart monitor. She gently nudged his arms, patted his face, trying to wake him.

“Dad?” Scott’s hoarse plea did the trick. His father opened his eyes and looked around the room, finally resting on his son.

“There you are,” he whispered, barely audible from where I stood.

“Did…she say y—yes?” His eyes roamed the room until he spotted me. “Come here, Queen o’ Sheba.”

Slow motion seemed to make the distance farther, but I made it to his side and grasped his hand.

“Take c…care of my boy, will you? I’ve got to go.” He put my hand in Scott’s.

My heart broke on so many levels. No, Peeps, you can’t go yet. Scott doesn’t really want me. I love him. I love you both. I stepped back a bit.

“No, Dad, please.” Scott fell on his father’s chest, weeping.

“Tops?” Peeps whispered.

“Here I am, Paul.” Toppy slipped beside Scott and laid his hand on Peeps’s arm. “You’ve been like a brother to me.” His voice broke.

“Love y—you.” Peeps managed a weak smile for his brother-in-law.

“I love you, too,” Toppy said, leaning over the bed.

Scott moved out of the way so that Toppy could embrace Peeps. I wondered if they whispered good-bye, because again Scott cried, “No, Dad!”

Toppy moved back to stand beside me, weeping openly.

“G…g…good boy.” Peeps reached up for Scott, who leaned over and rested his head on the pillow next to his father’s face.

“L…love my boy…always.” Peeps touched Scott’s face then closed his eyes. “My Sh…Shelley…” Peeps whispered.

Peep’s jaw dropped. The beeps on the monitor became erratic.

A crew of hospital staff rushed in, relegating us to the perimeter of the room. They began working on Peeps, barking orders, administering drugs. Paddles were applied to his chest, but beyond the initial jerk as the electricity poured through him, the paddles drew no response. The erratic beating continued, like some rhythm-less drummer.

Moments later, the monitor flat lined.

A doctor began manual CPR.

“No, Dad, wait,” Scott whimpered from the corner.

We stood by helpless as another doctor stepped in and took over CPR. I stared at the monitor, hoping for a response, then at Peep’s motionless face, waiting for him to wake up, cough, sputter, and open his eyes, like they do in the movies.

Instead, the frantic activity of the doctors and nurses stopped, and the doctor cast a sympathetic glance toward Scott as the medical personnel began to file out of the room. “I’m sorry.”

Scott stepped forward and gripped the bed rail with both hands. “Dad, please don’t leave me.” He slid to his knees beside the bed.

Toppy knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around him.

I backed away until I felt the wall behind me. I slid down in a puddle of tears. Paul West was gone. Toppy and Scott held each other, shaking with sobs.

Pain gripped my heart. I ached for Scott. I sensed that I should leave them alone and started backing out of the room. I whispered, “Good-bye,” to Peeps. His face glowed with peace. I prayed Scott would notice that, and it would comfort him later.

I somehow found the waiting room and fumbled in my purse for my cell phone. I pressed Mom’s speed dial number with shaking hands. “Mom, Paul West just passed away. He had a heart attack.”

Silence.

“Mom, did you hear me?” I cried openly, relieved to be alone in the waiting room at the moment.

“Yes, honey, I heard you. Just a shock. Should I come to you?” Her voice wept as well.

“I don’t know. He was fine just a couple of hours ago. I don’t understand.”

“It happens, sweetie. I’m so sorry. Let me know what I can do. I’m praying for Scott and everyone. Are you OK?”

“No. No, I’m not. I’ll call you later, Mom.” I snapped my phone shut and curled up on a waiting room chair. This is too awful. And to think I took Scott away from his dad all afternoon, and turned down his proposal as well. The man I wanted to bless was now brought lower than ever, and I didn’t help at all. No wonder I didn’t deserve happiness. Poor Scott. Peeps, Peeps, Peeps…

Almost an hour passed before Scott and Toppy came into the waiting room. Not quite pulled together, but not weeping any longer, Scott was all business.

“Uncle Tops, I want you to take Bailey home in her car. I’ll wait until they transport Dad to Marshall tomorrow and follow behind in your car. Y’all go on now, it’s already late. I’ve got some phone calls to make.”

Toppy nodded. I stepped toward Scott, touching his arm.

“I’m so sorry, Scott. So very sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” he answered, rather curtly.

Toppy raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

Toppy hugged Scott again. They held on for a moment. Scott didn’t look at me. Toppy and I left the building without saying more.

~*~

It’s strange the way a person’s mind works under stress. I wanted to be the kind of person who kept her cool, walked spiritually straight ahead, unfazed by life’s turmoil. Not me. I clung closer to God than ever, but found my old ways of thinking coursing through my veins like bad blood.

He resents me. I took him away from his father in his last hours and rejected his proposal. Granted, his proposal came across more like hiring a maid or personal assistant, but nevertheless a blow.

The Washout Express and West House closed down, funeral wreaths on the doors. I cancelled all the bookings I’d made for Shelley’s Heart, explaining a death in the family of the owner.

Family and friends gathered around Scott with such tenderness and care. I spent the nights at my mom’s so there would be plenty of room at Shelley’s for the family members who came in for the funeral. I drove to Exit 477 each day to help.

A few days after the funeral, with all the company gone, the inhabitants of Exit 477 gathered around the diner tables sipping coffee. Scott came down and joined us.

“Thanks so much, everyone. Seems you worked like slaves, taking care of things for me. I really appreciate it.”

Toppy slapped him on the back. “Don’t mention it. We are family here, all of us.”

I wish. But it wasn’t to be. I wasn’t coming back after this day. I tried to compartmentalize my time here, thinking only of the positive moments and slicing off the painful part at the end. But I needed to stop that and face some painful realities. I needed to figure out what to do about Pinewood Manor. I needed to get a job and get my life back together. I needed to read my father’s letter.

I thought about the day I first drove down Exit 477. The strange, dreamlike longing seemed to pull me to the little community. I knew now that there is no such thing as a perfect place. But one can live with shattered dreams. My mother’s heart had been broken. Yet, she’d managed to live a productive life.

Scott had all these people here who loved him and would help him. He didn’t really need me. He still wouldn’t look at me. I’d hurt him. That knowledge pained me worse than anything.

Liz began talking about how Peeps had taken her in, given her a job, and helped Tracy and her get on their feet after her husband died. Toppy talked about his sister and how Shelley and Peeps made him feel at home after his wife passed away. The group talked, even laughed over old stories. I started to slip out, to leave them all behind with this sweet memory.

“Dad nearly hit Bailey over the head with his cane the first time they met, remember?” Scott said, looking directly at me for the first time since his father died. “‘Queen o’ Sheba, Queen o’ Sheba, Queen o’ Sheba!’ He came hobbling into the washout ranting something about the Queen o’ Sheba. But he grew to love you.” Scott’s voice softened.

“I loved him, too.” The words stuck in my throat.

“Bailey, would you walk up to the prayer garden with me?” He stood and asked me this question in front of everyone. I answered by holding the door open for him.

We walked silently. I shivered more from nervousness than cold, but he took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. Shadows flickered under an overcast sky. We were both more than a little winded when we finally reached the gazebo in the prayer garden. We sat for a few moments, catching our breath.

“Scott, I’m so sorry that I…”

“Wait, you don’t owe me an apology for anything. It’s me who should apologize to you,” he said.

“Please, let me say it.” I put one hand on his shoulder, and the other over my heart. “I’m sorry that I took you away from your father that afternoon. I wanted to give you a break, but I caused you to miss those last few hours, and I hurt you as well. I’m truly sorry.”

“No, you were trying to bless me. Bailey, I really botched up that proposal. I didn’t understand at first because I didn’t think it through. I was so excited that I didn’t even plan what I would say. It came out all wrong. I don’t know if I can get it right now.” He got down on one knee again.

“Please, don’t try. Let’s don’t add more hurt to either of us.”

“Bailey, listen to me. Hear me out, and then you can decide. OK?” He reached for my hands. I took a deep breath and then nodded.

“That awful, lonely night that Dad died, I got a hotel room. I couldn’t sleep. It hurt so badly. I tried to imagine my life without Dad. It nearly killed me. I’m not over my mother’s death yet. When I prayed for comfort, your face kept appearing. Your smile…” He got choked up and stopped for a bit. He took a breath and continued.

“I realized what an idiot I had been. It was your servant’s heart that made me notice you in the first place. That’s what I really wanted to say. You are so beautiful, inside and out. If you never lifted another finger around here, I’d still love you. I love you, Bailey, I love you so much. Please marry me.” Tears streamed down his face. I wiped them away with my hands and planted a kiss on his lips.

“I love you, too, Scott.” We shared a kiss and an embrace. He pulled away and looked at me for an answer.

“I love you. Let’s leave it at that for a while.” I held his face in my hands, willing him to understand. “I’m so tempted to say yes. Things are so emotional right now. Can you be happy with just knowing that you are the only one for me? That I love you so much I can barely stand it?

“Scott, when I drove down Exit 477, I was emotionally and spiritually washed up. I stopped the car to pray, and then I looked up to see the Washout Express sign. I thought God agreed with me—washed up. I came to this community broken, but found wholeness in Christ again, found dear friends, found the love of my life. But I feel like I need to exist in that, mature for a time. I need to battle the destructive thinking that has been such a habit since my father left. Do you understand?”

“Can’t you mature as a married woman? We can get through it together,” he pleaded, holding my hands to his heart.

“But I want to come to you better than that. Give me some time. Scott, you need some time too. Things have been so difficult since your mother died, and now Peeps. I’ll be here. We’ll grow closer. Ask me again after a time. When we’re both whole.”

He pushed off his knees and sat beside me. He entwined our fingers and leaned in to kiss me. The wind died and the evening darkness came. I could barely see his smile. He looked at me and nodded. His smiled widened, and he chuckled.

“What?”

“I see what God is doing in you, and I like it. You can bet your sweet face I’ll ask you again.” He pulled me to my feet.

“You’d better.”

He rested his cheek against mine for a moment, and then put both his hands on my face, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. He brushed the hair from my forehead and lightly kissed it. I closed my eyes as he gently kissed his way down my nose until he found my mouth. I responded to the warmth of his lips on mine, lost in his love.