The children were staring at Dermott, who was floating in the cold water. Jim Anderson already was hurriedly swimming to Dermott.
“How did it happen?” T. J. asked his son.
Timmy pointed to the rotating waterwheel. “Dermott climbed up to the top and did a handstand on that wheel. He said he was going to ride it all the way down to the bottom, then jump off. But as soon as he did the handstand, he slipped and fell.”
“He hit his head,” one of the other children said.
Thomas and Judge Ragsdale met Jim at the water’s edge and took Dermott from him. Thomas laid the boy on the dry ground while the judge examined him.
Jim, now dripping wet and shivering, watched anxiously. “How is he?” he asked.
Ragsdale held his hand under Dermott’s nose, then leaned over to put his ear on Dermott’s chest. He shook his head.
“He’s not breathing and his heart’s not beating,” he said.
“No!” Cynthia, Dermott’s grandmother, screamed. She began crying uncontrollably.
“No . . .” T. J. said to Madison. Suddenly, T. J. pushed his way closer to the boy, dropped to his knees, and ripped open Dermott’s shirt. Then, tilting the boy’s head back, he pinched Dermott’s nose, and, covering the boy’s mouth with his own, blew until he could see Dermott’s chest rise.
“What is he doing?” Cynthia cried.
“Please, Mrs. Duncan, everyone, T. J. knows CPR.” T. J. put both hands on Dermott’s chest, and began pressing it in rhythm. “Madison, help me,” he said. “Give him mouth-to-mouth after every fifteen compressions!”
Madison knelt beside T. J. and began counting.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen!”
T. J. stopped the chest compressions, and Madison began to administer mouth-to-mouth.
“Two times, at two seconds each!” T. J. said. “One thousand one, one thousand two!”
Madison pulled away from Dermott and took a deep breath, then bent over him again.
By now, everyone stood around watching in awed silence. T. J. and Madison continued the CPR through several cycles until suddenly Dermott coughed, and water spurted from his mouth.
“We’ve got him!” Madison shouted. “Oh, T. J., he’s okay!” Madison stood up, and T. J. turned Dermott over, then lifted his waist so that Dermott’s head hung down.
“Oh, Lord in heaven, you’ve brought him back to life!” Cynthia said, her expression a mixture of thankfulness and awe.
“Simple CPR,” Madison said.
All attention turned to Dermott who said, “Grandma, I’m cold,” and began shivering uncontrollably.
“We’ll get you warmed up right now.” Cynthia wrapped him in a blanket and took him inside, followed by the others.
“You were wonderful,” Madison said, embracing T. J.
“Thanks,” he said. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“Folks,” Judge Ragsdale said, holding his hand up to get everyone’s attention. “Folks, would you all bow your heads so we may offer the Lord a prayer of thanksgiving?”
The room grew quiet as all bowed their heads. Judge Ragsdale began to pray.
“Almighty God and heavenly Father, we give Thee thanks that Thou were pleased to deliver from the clutches of death this child, on whose behalf we bless and praise Thy name. We are grateful for Mr. Carmichael’s intervention to save this precious life. We pray, O Lord, that through Thy help, Dermott will live in this world according to Thy will, serving his fellow man to Thy glory, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
“Amen,” the others added. With tears in their eyes, they shook T. J.’s hand and patted him on the shoulder, and hugged Madison, who stood beside him.
While Dermott and Jim left to put on warm, dry clothes, the children and grown-ups stayed behind. Laura began singing a hymn, and the others alternately joined in and quietly listened to her.
Laura’s voice was so beautiful, the words of adulation and praise for the Lord so inspiring that it filled the room with an aura of worship that rivaled that of any church T. J. or Madison had ever attended.
When the music finally ended, everyone drifted away, leaving T. J. and Madison alone for a moment.
“I wonder if the judge has any boots we could wear,” T. J. asked.
“Boots?”
“Yes. We didn’t come prepared for the snow, but I’d like to take a walk if you’ll go with me.”
“Are you serious?” Madison looked at him as if he were a stranger. “I used to try to get you to take a walk with me, but you never wanted to go.”
“I want to go now,” he said. “What about you?”
“Well, yes, I’d love to go for a walk.”
The judge did have boots, and they fit T. J. and Madison as perfectly as if they had bought them for themselves.
“We’ll eat around four,” the judge said as the pair left.
“We’ll be here,” T. J. said, smiling. “I’ve been smelling the cooking all day. It’s driving me mad, and one reason I want to go for a walk is to keep me from going into the kitchen and start sampling.”
Ragsdale laughed. “Anyway, I think it will be good for the two of you to take a nice long walk together. Long walks have a way of allowing people to see things more clearly.”
T. J. and Madison stepped outside, then strolled down to the end of the brick sidewalk where they found themselves ankle-deep in the white stuff.
“Did you have anyplace special you wanted to go?” Madison asked. “Or did you just want to walk?”
“Both,” T. J. said. “I want to walk, but I also want to show you where we were yesterday when I went with the men to get the Yule log.”
“How far is it?”
“It’s some distance. We don’t have to go, but if you think you’re up to it, it’s worth the effort. The view is spectacular.”
“I’m up to it,” she answered.
They walked on in silence for several minutes, breathing hard with the effort. Clouds of white vapor curled about their noses and mouths. Finally, Madison spoke.
“T. J., what do you think Judge Ragsdale meant by that remark he made just as we left?”
“What remark?”
“He said that long walks have a way of allowing people to see things more clearly.”
“I’m sure he meant nothing by it. It’s probably just some homespun wisdom.”
“You haven’t been talking to him, have you?”
T. J. looked questioningly at Madison. “Talking to him about what?”
“About our . . .problem,” Madison said.
T. J. shook his head. “No, Madison,” he replied. “I’ve spoken to nobody about our ‘problem,’ as you put it. What is going on between us right now is just between us.”
They walked on in silence, except for the crunching sound their boots made in the brilliant white snow. In the distance, they heard a crow’s caw. The hammering of a woodpecker echoed through the woods.
“Have you ever experienced such peace?” T. J. asked.
“No, never.”
“What is our problem, Madison?” T. J. asked. “What has gone wrong between us?”
“Are you sure you want to go there right now?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
Madison didn’t answer.
“Madison, please. Talk to me.”
“We don’t have time for each other anymore,” Madison said. “Both of us have high-pressure, high-profile, very demanding jobs. A person has only so much to give, and we are giving more of ourselves to our jobs than we are to each other.”
“Other successful people manage to make marriage work,” T. J. insisted. “I don’t know why we can’t.”
“You said it yourself. One of us would have to give up his—or her—career. In fact, you were quite specific about which one of us it should be.”
“I know I said that, but I was wrong. Madison, you are a wife, mother, and a career woman. As a matter of fact, you are a very successful career woman, and I should never have suggested that you give that up.”
“Well, there you have it then,” Madison said. “We’re back where we started. We don’t have time for our jobs, kids, and each other. But neither of us wants to give up the career.”
“I remember that when I first met you I was drawn to you because you were so pretty and smart. I still think you are pretty . . . no, I think you are beautiful. And nobody that I know has a bigger heart than you do.”
Madison smiled softly, warmly. “Christine has a big heart,” she said. “Timmy too.”
“What?”
“It’s just some things that they’ve said to me recently. Christine told me today that her heart was big enough to have two best friends, just like my heart was big enough to love you, Timmy, and her, equally.”
“Christine is a smart girl,” T. J. said.
“T. J., I . ..” Madison started, but T. J. interrupted her.
“I want to hear it from you, Madison. I want you to tell me when you realized that you no longer loved me.”
Madison gasped slightly, then looked up at him. Her eyes were glistening with tears. “What? Oh, T. J., I never said that I don’t love you anymore.”
“You mean you still do?”
“Love isn’t like a light switch. You can’t just turn it on and off.”
“I think we’ve been here too long. What’s a light switch?”
Madison laughed out loud. “Well, maybe that’s not such a good analogy.”
“So what you are saying is, you still love me.”
“Yes, T. J. I still love you. I just don’t know if that love is enough.”
“You’re right. Love all by itself isn’t enough. But I’m willing to provide whatever is needed to nurse that love. Understanding, time for togetherness . . . whatever it takes, I’m willing to do.”
“We can’t just talk about this, T. J. It’s going to take a lot of sacrifices—and prayer—and faith—to get this marriage back on track.”
“I think it’s worth it,” T. J. said.
“I do too.”
“All right. Where do we start?”
“Well, we’ll have to—” Madison began, then she stopped. “T. J., when we were on our way here, while we were still on the interstate, we passed a little village that was down in the valley. I know this is going to sound silly, but I found myself fantasizing that we were living there as ordinary people, with ordinary jobs that let us come home every night.”
“Whoa. That’s . .. that’s quite a start,” T. J. said. “I mean, that would require a complete life change.”
Madison waved him off. “No, I’m not saying let’s do that. I know it was just a fantasy. But there was one part of the fantasy that we could do.”
“What’s that?”
“I saw a beautiful little church there. It was white, with a tall steeple. I don’t even know what the denomination was, but I know this. There was something immensely comforting in thinking about attending that church, or any church, on a regular basis. That’s where we could start, T. J. I think we have let our lives get out of hand, but if we can find time to bring Jesus into our lives, that will give us the structure we need to find time for each other.”
“You want to start going to church on a regular basis? All of us, you and me and the kids?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Like we used to, when we were first married.”
“But I don’t want you to do it for me, T. J. I want you to do it for the Lord, and for yourself. So don’t just tell me you will unless you are serious.”
“I am serious.” T. J. smiled. “Did you know I used to be an acolyte—a very long time ago?”
Madison laughed. “No, I didn’t.”
“I enjoyed it. And I remember the comfort I got from having the Lord as a part of my life. I don’t know when, or how, I let that all go. I was trying to remember that the other day, when I first heard about this place. Hey, I’ll do it, and not just for you. I’ll do it because I want to.”
“If we go back to church together—as a family—then that will be the first step in organizing our lives along the things that are most important to us.”
“We’ll go to church next Sunday, as a family,” T. J. promised. “And we’ll eat dinner together—”
“And not take-out,” Madison said. “I mean, we have that big, beautiful kitchen that we designed and seldom use.”
“Hey, I’m not a bad cook myself, you know.”
“No, you’re not,” Madison agreed. “All right, we’ll share the cooking.”
By now they had reached the top of the climb, and they stood there for a moment while they caught their breaths.
“We’re here,” T. J. said. “This is what I wanted you to see.” He positioned her at the edge of the clearing, then pointed. “Have you ever seen a more magnificent sight?”
The mountains lay before them in gently rolling waves, mottled with white snow and dark color: green up close, then blue, and finally, purple for the most distant vistas. And, hanging over it all were the wisps of cloud and mist that so resembled smoke from home fires that it caused the first explorers to give the Smoky Mountain range its name.
“Oh, it is so beautiful,” Madison said.
“Look. For as far as you can see, there is not one interstate, electric transmission tower, or power station to mar the view.”
“T. J., you’re right. There’s no way I can do a story on these people. I couldn’t live with myself if I did something to take this away from them.”
“I know.”
“This isn’t just wishful thinking, is it? I mean, can we really make this marriage—this family—work?”
“Come over here,” he said. “There’s something else I want you to see.”
“What could be more beautiful than this view?”
“Come.” T. J. took her hand. He led her over to a towering tree, then pointed up. “Look up there.”
“What am I looking for?”
“That’s where we got the mistletoe.” He pointed to the little clump of parasitic growth and smiled. “And right now you are standing directly under it.”
Madison looked at him, and her eyes issued the invitation that had been missing from their marriage for a long time. “Oh, T. J.”
She felt his arms reach around her and his mouth close on hers so that she mumbled the name into his breath. As T. J. pulled her to him, she grew limp.
It had been a long time since they shared a moment of this intensity. It wasn’t the kiss of a husband and wife jaded by familiarity. This was the kiss of young lovers still excited over each other.
There was no rush-hour traffic, no TV show deadlines, no contract negotiations, no single-parent P.T.A. meetings, no warmed-over take-out meals, no voice-mail messages explaining missed appointments. For this moment it was just the two of them, alone in the universe. They were Adam and Eve in God’s own Garden of Eden. And Madison wished, with all her heart, that the moment would never end.