Chapter Thirty-five Mattie

THIRTY-FIVE : MATTIE

DELANEY HORSE FARM

DECEMBER 1969

Mama remained lost in unconsciousness throughout the long night.

Dr. Monahan arrived with the sun, but other than some basic instructions for the nurses, nothing changed. He did, however, suggest we talk to Mama as though she were awake.

"Some people believe a comatose patient is still aware of their surroundings."

Dad and I took turns sitting with her. The nurses came and went from the room, giving us privacy but remaining close should we need anything. Near dinnertime, Nurse Bradford came for the night shift. It was Christmas Eve, and I knew it was a sacrifice to be away from her family.

"I'll spend time with them tomorrow." She smoothed Mama's pale cheek. "I want to be with Ava tonight." Her gentle words touched me.

A car turned into the driveway, followed by a knock on the back door. Dad went to see who it was and soon returned, Nash following behind.

"Pastor Arnold brought us a Christmas feast," Dad said, struggling to keep his composure. "The church ladies organized it. There's turkey, ham, all the fixings."

Nurse Bradford insisted we three enjoy the meal while she stayed with Mama. The food was delicious but none of us had much of an appetite. When we'd eaten all we could, Nash volunteered to clean things up. Dad had nearly dozed off at the table, so I insisted he lie down on the sofa while I went upstairs.

The lights were dim when I quietly entered Mama's room. Nurse Bradford sat next to the bed, reading softly from a Bible.

" My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them. "

The floorboard creaked under my weight, and she turned to me.

"I was just reading to Ava." She closed the book and stood, motioning for me to take the now empty seat. "Come in, dear."

"What does that passage mean?" I asked once I was settled.

She looked thoughtful. "I believe King David was reminding himself of God's divine plan for humankind."

At my confused look, she continued.

"He writes that there is no place on earth or under the earth or in heaven that we can escape the presence and power of God. He is there, David says, when we're formed in our mother's womb." She laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. "God knows the very moment when we'll take our first breath, and when we'll take our last. He's with Ava, right now, here in this room."

I glanced at Mama's still form. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do. The Bible tells me God is a good Father. Ava is his beloved daughter."

Her simple answer didn't satisfy me, just as they hadn't when I was a girl in Sunday school. "If God is so good, why didn't he heal Mama? Lots of people prayed for her. She prayed." I looked at the nurse. "If this is how he treats his followers, you can count me out."

She didn't look offended. "Our suffering here on earth doesn't mean God isn't good. Jesus himself suffered. Death on a cross is a horrific way to die. God—Emmanuel—went through everything we experience in this life, from birth to death."

I'd never heard it explained that way. "Why would he do that?"

"To save us. From sin. From death. To give us eternal life. Mattie, your mother told me she's ready to meet Jesus. In the life of a believer, our last day on earth is the first day of eternity with God."

I swallowed, hard. "Everything I ever believed about God died when my brother was killed in Vietnam. Now Mama is dying. I don't have any faith left in me."

Compassion filled her face. "You may not believe in God, but he believes in you, Mattie."

She left me alone then.

Tears ran down my face.

I wanted her words to be true. I wanted to believe that God cared about us, but how could I?

I grasped Mama's warm hand. "I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I'm struggling, Mama. I need to know you're going to be all right. I need to know you'll see Mark again."

Dad joined me a short time later. He gazed down at Mama, and the raw grief on his face nearly undid me. He sat on the edge of the mattress, but Mama didn't stir. We didn't speak. It was enough to simply watch and wait. Nurse Bradford checked Mama's vitals every so often. Nash stood like a sentinel outside the door. No one wanted to go to bed.

It was close to midnight when Mama's breathing changed. Instead of the death rattle Dr. Monahan had warned us of, she took full, deep breaths. We were all surprised when her eyes fluttered open.

She muttered something unintelligible, her head moving back and forth on the pillow. After days of watching her simply lie still, the small movement was startling.

Mama kept mumbling, her eyes searching. Finally her focus landed on Dad.

"Gunther," she said, shocking everyone with the clarity of the single word. Her entire body instantly relaxed.

I stared in horror as Dad's face paled. I couldn't imagine the devastation he must feel, hearing his wife call out for her lover on her deathbed.

Nash came and put his arm around me. When our eyes met, I knew he understood.

"Gunther." Mama reached a hand toward Dad.

I held my breath.

Would he leave the room, furious and heartbroken?

"I'm here, Ava," he finally said, his voice thick as he wrapped her hand in both of his. "I'm here, my darling."

My mouth went slack.