03_The Unexpected Gift Read Free Page B

Dad. I don’t know how you can.”
    “I haven’t forgotten. But I made my peace with it a long time ago. It’s time you did, too.”
    Uncle Pete generally watched this exchange without a word. It had been replayed numerous times over the years—and always with the same result. But this time he spoke. “Andrew’s right, Grant. Give it to the Lord. Get on with your life.”
    “What she did was wrong, Uncle Pete.”
    “I’m not sayin’ it was right or wrong. Just that it’s over. Holdin’ on to anger don’t help nobody.”
    Grant crumpled the paper that had held his sandwich, then tossed it into the bag. “I wish I could. You two put me to shame.”
    “Hardly. What you’ve done these past two-and-a-half years would have finished me off,” his father said.
    “I doubt that. I come from strong stock. Besides, people do what they have to do.”
    “Not everybody,” Uncle Pete disagreed. “And you’ve never wavered all this time, either. You’re just as faithful now as you were at the beginning.”
    Uncomfortable with the praise, Grant glanced at his watch. “Which reminds me. I need to run. I’ll be back by about two-thirty.”
    “Take your time, son. And give her our best.”
    “I always do. See you guys later. Thanks for lunch, Uncle Pete.”
    “Glad to do it. Don’t forget to return that call.”
    That brought a smile to Grant’s face. “It’s right at the top of my list as soon as I get back.”
     
     
    As he walked down the quiet hallway, Grant raised his hand in greeting to the woman behind the desk. “Hi, Ruth. Any change?” He’d been asking the same question for more than two years. And getting the same answer.
    “No. She’s holding her own.”
    He continued down the hall, stopping outside the familiar room where he’d spent so many hours. He took a deep breath, then stepped inside, closing the door halfway behind him.
    After all this time, he still harbored a faint hope that one day he’d walk into the extended-care facility and find his wife waiting to greet him with her sweet smile. But he was always disappointed. Though less so now. Hope, once strong, had dimmed as days became weeks, and months became years.
    Grant moved beside the bed and stared down at the face of the woman who had stolen his heart, the woman to whom he had pledged his life six-and-a-half years ago—for better or worse—before God. And he’d meant every word of that vow. He just hadn’t expected the worst to happen so quickly, just four short years into their marriage. Now the woman around whom he’d planned his future, the woman with whom he’d hoped to raise a family, the woman with whom he’d wanted to grow old, lay suspended between life and death, her once-strong limbs wasted, her passionate, laughter-filled eyes shuttered.
    Closing his eyes, Grant took a steadying breath.
    Lord, give me strength to carry on, he prayed. I don’t know why you’ve given Christine and me this cross to bear, but I place my trust in you. Please continue to watch over us.
    He left his eyes closed for a long moment, drawing what solace he could from the prayer he uttered every day at his wife’s bedside. Then he leaned down to kiss her cool forehead, reaching over to take her unresponsive hand in his. “Hi, Christine. It’s Grant. I brought a new novel I thought you’d enjoy. And the Bible, of course. But first I’ll give you all the family news.”
    He sat beside her, keeping her hand in his, and talked with her about his surprising bequest from Jo, filled her in on the latest commissions they’d received at the shop, and reminded her how much everyone missed her. It was a routine he’d begun soon after the accident, at the suggestion of her doctors, who had told him that comatose people could sometimes hear voices. They’d encouraged him to share his day with her, to read to her, saying that it might make a difference in her recovery. They didn’t push him to do that anymore. But he still continued the