A Choice of Miracles, Page 2
James A. Cox
and he could hear, and although it wasn't the miracle he hadwanted to pray for, still it was a miracle. He didn't question it; thecomfort of hearing her voice after the terrible loneliness was enough.He didn't wonder how it could happen, didn't doubt that she could hearhim answering her, as he was doing now. At first, so overcome with joyand relief, so thankful for the miracle, he didn't even recognize thetones of pain in her voice.
"Elsie, Elsie, Elsie," he cried out with his mind, reaching for her,wanting to seize her and hold her and never let her slip away again. "Ihear you, my darling. I hear you!"
"Thank God!" Her voice broke, and the sound of sobbing carried on thewind reached his ears. For a moment it puzzled him. He had been crying,but her sobs were something different. The night suddenly seemed to turnmuch colder. "What is it, Elsie?" he called in fright.
* * * * *
The sobbing became a choking cough. He heard her grunt and gasp, andthen a small scream turned his blood into ice. After a long moment shespoke again, panting, her voice strained and scratchy. "Thank God youcan hear me, Andy. I've called and called. I prayed that I didn't carewhat happened, just so long as you could be with me. And you are, youare. It's a miracle and I don't know how. But you're with me and Iwon't be afraid any more. I won't ... oh ... oh ..."
* * * * *
Andy suddenly understood. "Elsie," he cried frantically. "Where are you?Are you in the hospital? Is everything all right? Is the doctor there?_Elsie!_" He shouted her name aloud, angrily, trying to force it throughthe immense absorbent space between them, cursing and screaming at hisown helplessness.
"Be quiet, Andy," she said at last. "Stop carrying on so. I'm all rightnow--it's just that the pain comes and sometimes I don't know what todo."
"But are you all right? Did the doctor--?"
"Shhh, Andy. Of course I'm all right. I'm in the labor room and thereare lots of nice people to take care of me. Dr. Bell says it's like thisoften with first babies. And since I'm smaller than I should be--thatdoesn't help any. But I'm going to be all right."
"You called me, though. You said you were afraid of something, andprayed that--"
"You know how big a sissy I can be sometimes, Andy. Remember the timethe wasp got in the bathroom while I was taking a shower, and how wegot tangled up in the shower curtain where I was trying to hide from himand you were trying to catch him? And remember what happened right afterthat? Right there in the bathroom?" She laughed lightly.
To hear her laugh again! Andy smiled to himself, remembering. She hadbeen so soft and cool and pretty, snarled in the shower curtain, herhair damp and curly, her cheeks flushed, uttering little squeals andyelps and giggles that were exciting music, and suddenly he wasn'tchasing the wasp any more and she wasn't giggling because the wasp wastickling her. She had pulled his head under the shower, and he had gotsoaked anyway, so he climbed into the tub and she helped pull off hisclothes and they soaped each other into a lather and they rinsed andthey climbed out together, but they never got dried off and they nevergot out of the bathroom--at least not for a long time. And oh, how herlaugh had tinkled then, and how he loved her when she laughed.
He thought of her laughing now, and a pain shot through his head. Hetried to visualize her now, as she laughed--the swollen, hurt-lookingbelly, the heavy breasts dragging her frail shoulders forward, thedrawn, pinched look he knew must be between her eyes as it was alwayswhen she felt unwell. He could visualize her this way, but not laughing.Then he heard her, and she wasn't laughing any more, and her moans wereneedles and her screams were knives.
It lasted longer this time. It lasted so long he could taste the bloodwhere his teeth had ground through his lip, although he couldn'tremember the pain of doing it. She came back to him at last, groaningweakly, and they talked, he cheerfully for her sake, she bravely forhis. They remembered things they had done together, good times, happytimes. They talked of what they would do when he came home, and whatwould they call the baby? Andy Junior if a boy? Elsie if a girl? OrKaren, or Mary, or Kirsten, or maybe Hermione? They laughed at that, andthey laughed again at the thought of twins. But the laughs turned intogasps and cries of pain. And Elsie lay thrashing in the labor room of ahospital in New Jersey, and Andy lay rigidly under a rigidity not ofhis own making in a jungle far away.
* * * * *
She came back to him and told him the doctors had had a consultation,and had agreed to wait a little longer. She came back and told him theyhad decided they could not wait much longer, and would have to undertakea Caesarean. She came back and told him she had begged them to give hera little more time to try and do it herself, but she was afraid theywere going to give her something to knock her out. She came and shewent, but even when she was gone she was never so far away that Andycould not hear her. He wanted to stop his ears to the hystericaloutpourings, but he was helpless, and he hated himself for wanting to.
When she came back the next time, with weakness turning her voice into ahoarse whisper, he begged her to take the drugs. But she wasn'tlistening to him. "Andy, Andy," she said, "listen to me please. It'simportant. They've decided on the Caesarean, and I haven't got muchtime. I've been thinking of the way we've been talking, and I think ithappened because I needed you so much. That's how I got all the way towhere you are. I needed you with me with every part of me, and somehowpart of me found you. But Andy, you must have needed me, too. You musthave needed me, Andy, or how did you get back to me?"
* * * * *
Despite the weakness of her voice, the fear in it rang out loudly. Hetried to laugh and told her he was perfectly fine, except for worryabout her. He made up a story about lying on his bunk, sipping a coollemonade and listening to soft music, trying to calm his nerves over theprospect of becoming a new father and wondering where he would get thecigars to distribute to the boys.
But she wouldn't believe him. She insisted that he tell her the truth,pleading with him, crying out her love and her fear and her need. Atlast he told her of the crash, speaking lightly, pointing out that thepatrol ship would be back with daylight and all would be well. He didn'tmention the fact that he had no body below the neck, but he knew sheknew it was worse than he described.
Then she was gone again, for so long a time he thought the operation hadstarted. But the wind still blew raggedly in his ears, and she cameback, slowly, but with new vibrancy in her voice. "Andy, you dope," shewhispered with a brave attempt at sprightliness. "Why didn'tyou--tell--me--sooner?" She was gasping, but hurried on. "I can tell thedoctor, and he can telephone somebody and they can use the radio andtell the patrol where you are. Oh! Andy--where are you--? Hurry--"
She was going again, and as quickly as he could he told her of the riverand the jungle, and where approximately the ship had been just beforethe crash. Then she was gone and he closed his eyes and let the waves ofnear-hysterical relief wash over him. He was exhausted, the strain oflong concentration had drained his strength, but he could almost feelthe nerve ends in his dead body tingling with the exhilaration that sangin his mind. It was the miracle he hadn't dared pray for. It would bethe greatest miracle ever performed, and he had almost lost it, almostkilled it, almost thrown it away. But Elsie-- He prayed feverishly now,thanking, thanking, and praying for the miracle to really happen and forElsie and his son to be all right.
* * * * *
Then the wind was roaring blackly in his ears and the wind was turninginto a shrieking demon and above it he could hear her wild scream: "Theydon't believe me! They say I'm delirious. Andy! They're coming withsomething to put me to sleep. They don't believe me, Andy ..."
It ended. The wind stopped abruptly with her voice. The only things AndyLarson could hear were the blood pounding in his head and the grating ofinsects singing their last to the approaching dawn. It was all over, andhe closed his eyes to the lightening sky. It was all over, the miraclewas dead, the miracle never was, he was dead,
he never was. Elsie-- Herocked his head back and forth, wanting to cry, to curse and shout outhis hatred of life. But nothing would come out, nothing was left.
It was all over. He lay under his memorial, a junk pile of twistedmetal, inching his way toward death, the abortion of an abortivemiracle, alone, tearless, wifeless, sonless, helpless.
A faint hum drifted to his ears. He looked up, wondering that the dawnhad come so soon. The sky was brilliant with light, but still he couldnot see the patrol ship, knew that it couldn't see him, no matter howclose the hum got.
The hum came closer and closer, grew louder, and then he heard her softlaugh and the hum faded away.
"Andy? Aren't you
"Elsie, Elsie, Elsie," he cried out with his mind, reaching for her,wanting to seize her and hold her and never let her slip away again. "Ihear you, my darling. I hear you!"
"Thank God!" Her voice broke, and the sound of sobbing carried on thewind reached his ears. For a moment it puzzled him. He had been crying,but her sobs were something different. The night suddenly seemed to turnmuch colder. "What is it, Elsie?" he called in fright.
* * * * *
The sobbing became a choking cough. He heard her grunt and gasp, andthen a small scream turned his blood into ice. After a long moment shespoke again, panting, her voice strained and scratchy. "Thank God youcan hear me, Andy. I've called and called. I prayed that I didn't carewhat happened, just so long as you could be with me. And you are, youare. It's a miracle and I don't know how. But you're with me and Iwon't be afraid any more. I won't ... oh ... oh ..."
* * * * *
Andy suddenly understood. "Elsie," he cried frantically. "Where are you?Are you in the hospital? Is everything all right? Is the doctor there?_Elsie!_" He shouted her name aloud, angrily, trying to force it throughthe immense absorbent space between them, cursing and screaming at hisown helplessness.
"Be quiet, Andy," she said at last. "Stop carrying on so. I'm all rightnow--it's just that the pain comes and sometimes I don't know what todo."
"But are you all right? Did the doctor--?"
"Shhh, Andy. Of course I'm all right. I'm in the labor room and thereare lots of nice people to take care of me. Dr. Bell says it's like thisoften with first babies. And since I'm smaller than I should be--thatdoesn't help any. But I'm going to be all right."
"You called me, though. You said you were afraid of something, andprayed that--"
"You know how big a sissy I can be sometimes, Andy. Remember the timethe wasp got in the bathroom while I was taking a shower, and how wegot tangled up in the shower curtain where I was trying to hide from himand you were trying to catch him? And remember what happened right afterthat? Right there in the bathroom?" She laughed lightly.
To hear her laugh again! Andy smiled to himself, remembering. She hadbeen so soft and cool and pretty, snarled in the shower curtain, herhair damp and curly, her cheeks flushed, uttering little squeals andyelps and giggles that were exciting music, and suddenly he wasn'tchasing the wasp any more and she wasn't giggling because the wasp wastickling her. She had pulled his head under the shower, and he had gotsoaked anyway, so he climbed into the tub and she helped pull off hisclothes and they soaped each other into a lather and they rinsed andthey climbed out together, but they never got dried off and they nevergot out of the bathroom--at least not for a long time. And oh, how herlaugh had tinkled then, and how he loved her when she laughed.
He thought of her laughing now, and a pain shot through his head. Hetried to visualize her now, as she laughed--the swollen, hurt-lookingbelly, the heavy breasts dragging her frail shoulders forward, thedrawn, pinched look he knew must be between her eyes as it was alwayswhen she felt unwell. He could visualize her this way, but not laughing.Then he heard her, and she wasn't laughing any more, and her moans wereneedles and her screams were knives.
It lasted longer this time. It lasted so long he could taste the bloodwhere his teeth had ground through his lip, although he couldn'tremember the pain of doing it. She came back to him at last, groaningweakly, and they talked, he cheerfully for her sake, she bravely forhis. They remembered things they had done together, good times, happytimes. They talked of what they would do when he came home, and whatwould they call the baby? Andy Junior if a boy? Elsie if a girl? OrKaren, or Mary, or Kirsten, or maybe Hermione? They laughed at that, andthey laughed again at the thought of twins. But the laughs turned intogasps and cries of pain. And Elsie lay thrashing in the labor room of ahospital in New Jersey, and Andy lay rigidly under a rigidity not ofhis own making in a jungle far away.
* * * * *
She came back to him and told him the doctors had had a consultation,and had agreed to wait a little longer. She came back and told him theyhad decided they could not wait much longer, and would have to undertakea Caesarean. She came back and told him she had begged them to give hera little more time to try and do it herself, but she was afraid theywere going to give her something to knock her out. She came and shewent, but even when she was gone she was never so far away that Andycould not hear her. He wanted to stop his ears to the hystericaloutpourings, but he was helpless, and he hated himself for wanting to.
When she came back the next time, with weakness turning her voice into ahoarse whisper, he begged her to take the drugs. But she wasn'tlistening to him. "Andy, Andy," she said, "listen to me please. It'simportant. They've decided on the Caesarean, and I haven't got muchtime. I've been thinking of the way we've been talking, and I think ithappened because I needed you so much. That's how I got all the way towhere you are. I needed you with me with every part of me, and somehowpart of me found you. But Andy, you must have needed me, too. You musthave needed me, Andy, or how did you get back to me?"
* * * * *
Despite the weakness of her voice, the fear in it rang out loudly. Hetried to laugh and told her he was perfectly fine, except for worryabout her. He made up a story about lying on his bunk, sipping a coollemonade and listening to soft music, trying to calm his nerves over theprospect of becoming a new father and wondering where he would get thecigars to distribute to the boys.
But she wouldn't believe him. She insisted that he tell her the truth,pleading with him, crying out her love and her fear and her need. Atlast he told her of the crash, speaking lightly, pointing out that thepatrol ship would be back with daylight and all would be well. He didn'tmention the fact that he had no body below the neck, but he knew sheknew it was worse than he described.
Then she was gone again, for so long a time he thought the operation hadstarted. But the wind still blew raggedly in his ears, and she cameback, slowly, but with new vibrancy in her voice. "Andy, you dope," shewhispered with a brave attempt at sprightliness. "Why didn'tyou--tell--me--sooner?" She was gasping, but hurried on. "I can tell thedoctor, and he can telephone somebody and they can use the radio andtell the patrol where you are. Oh! Andy--where are you--? Hurry--"
She was going again, and as quickly as he could he told her of the riverand the jungle, and where approximately the ship had been just beforethe crash. Then she was gone and he closed his eyes and let the waves ofnear-hysterical relief wash over him. He was exhausted, the strain oflong concentration had drained his strength, but he could almost feelthe nerve ends in his dead body tingling with the exhilaration that sangin his mind. It was the miracle he hadn't dared pray for. It would bethe greatest miracle ever performed, and he had almost lost it, almostkilled it, almost thrown it away. But Elsie-- He prayed feverishly now,thanking, thanking, and praying for the miracle to really happen and forElsie and his son to be all right.
* * * * *
Then the wind was roaring blackly in his ears and the wind was turninginto a shrieking demon and above it he could hear her wild scream: "Theydon't believe me! They say I'm delirious. Andy! They're coming withsomething to put me to sleep. They don't believe me, Andy ..."
It ended. The wind stopped abruptly with her voice. The only things AndyLarson could hear were the blood pounding in his head and the grating ofinsects singing their last to the approaching dawn. It was all over, andhe closed his eyes to the lightening sky. It was all over, the miraclewas dead, the miracle never was, he was dead,
he never was. Elsie-- Herocked his head back and forth, wanting to cry, to curse and shout outhis hatred of life. But nothing would come out, nothing was left.
It was all over. He lay under his memorial, a junk pile of twistedmetal, inching his way toward death, the abortion of an abortivemiracle, alone, tearless, wifeless, sonless, helpless.
A faint hum drifted to his ears. He looked up, wondering that the dawnhad come so soon. The sky was brilliant with light, but still he couldnot see the patrol ship, knew that it couldn't see him, no matter howclose the hum got.
The hum came closer and closer, grew louder, and then he heard her softlaugh and the hum faded away.
"Andy? Aren't you
