Short Stories

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Nine months was all it had taken to completely change her life. Celeste Watkins had gone from doting wife and preschool teacher to divorced children’s book author so quickly that it hardly seemed real. How did a seven-year marriage die? How did she find new direction in this life she wasn’t even sure she wanted? How did a cheating husband turn into a different home, a new career, and life as a single woman?

Celeste sat on the park bench across from her building questioning herself and God when the crash sounded behind her. At first she sat stock still, unsure and a little shaken up. When she finally turned to see what happened she would have fainted if not for the fear causing her to tremble.

A delivery truck had veered off the road and into a parked car. The accident itself was not what scared Celeste so much. It was the car. It wasn’t just any parked car. It was Steven’s car.

Celeste was around the bench, across the street and next to the car screaming Steven’s name before she knew what was going on. Through the shattered window she could see Steven’s body was a mangled mess. Blood was smeared and oozing so thick that his clothes were barely visible. The trembling increased and she cried uncontrollably. She tried desperately to calm herself. It only half worked.

The next few hours passed in a blood-soaked, siren-sounding blur. It all began to settle around seven that evening. Celeste waited in the room that Steven had been admitted to along with Emily Watkins, Steven’s sister, and Mindy. Celeste couldn’t think of when she had been so uncomfortable, except maybe when she found that woman in bed with her husband.

The tension in the room was tangible. The motivation for being there was clear for Mindy and Emily but Celeste couldn’t decide why she had stayed. She was still working that out when Steven was returned to them via gurney. He was still unconscious. He had weathered everything since the crash and not even twitched an eyelid. As Steven was transferred to the bed a grim team of doctors came into the room compounding the tension and concern that permeated everyone.

Having seen her come in with him, the first doctor addressed Celeste, “Mrs. Watkins, I’m afraid I haven’t got very good news. Steven has very extensive injuries. The least of which is his right leg. It is broken above and below the knee and will require surgery to implant a rod for stabilizing, a sort of internal splint.” He paused to let this soak in. “His left leg is in much worse shape. The force of the impact severed the bone below the knee, tearing away most of the muscle. I’m afraid it must be amputated at the knee.”

Celeste felt herself suffocating at his words. There didn’t seem to be strength enough in her body to blink let alone draw a breath. As compassion replaced disbelief she even forgot for a moment that they were divorced. Steven couldn’t lose his leg! “Nothing can be done to save his leg?” A sorrowful shake of the doctor’s head was all the answer she needed.

Celeste’s tears came without preamble. The sobs racked her body. She slumped into the chair by the window covering her face unable to look at anyone else in the room. Celeste’s tears were interrupted by the sound of Mindy’s stiletto heals clacking on the linoleum floor. She stopped at the door long enough to throw a backward glance toward Steven then disappear into the hallway. No one knew then but it was the last time any of them would lay eyes on Mindy Santorelli.

As the days grew into weeks of healing without any sign of movement from Steven, Celeste found herself alone more and more often. Emily, Mr. and Mrs. Watkins, everyone that had held vigil those first few hours and days was now always late for something or not wanting to be in the way. Regardless of the chosen excuse Celeste knew that the hope was draining from them all for any meaningful recovery. For all except Celeste.

Celeste spent her time at his bedside in mixture of prayer, meditating on God’s Word, and writing. She prayed diligently that not only would God provide healing according to His Will but also in that healing Steven would come to know the Source. She had long since finished the stories that were on a deadline and had moved on to another work, a novel. It was a new venture but one she met with vigor. She had already filled one spiral notebook and was half way through the next, the words just flowing like never before.

Near the end of week six Celeste was returning to Steven’s room from a lap around his floor when she noticed the commotion in his room. She rushed in to find Steven awake and lucid. It was an answer to prayer that she welcomed wholeheartedly.

Her eyes misted when she saw his outstretched hand awaiting her own. No words were spoken as they held one another and listened to the doctor. Steven would require a couple more weeks of in hospital care, physical therapy, and preliminary fittings for a prosthetic leg. After that he would go home receiving daily care from round-the-clock nurses. Knowing that Steven was now without a home due to Mindy’s untimely exodus, Celeste made a sacrifice that was much easier than she anticipated, she invited Steven to live with her. With Celeste working from home Steven would only need a daily visit from a physical therapist instead of twenty-four-hour care.

Now three weeks into the new arrangement she was thankful and angry at the same time. Being under the same roof again was an emotional experience for which Celeste wasn’t prepared. She didn’t know how to be anything to Steven except his wife. Being one flesh is a hard thing to stop. The ownership that came along with the words “my husband” didn’t end because he strayed. The thought of normal happening without the other half of you was inconceivable. She couldn’t accept it and hoped she’d never have to. Her goal was no longer to get him on his feet and get him out. It was to get him on his feet and welcome him back.

Months had passed when it all came to a head. Celeste and Steven walked the track in the park in companionable silence when Celeste spoke, beginning in a whisper and escalating until she drew attention from all around. “How could you do that to me? Why did I deserve that? Didn’t I make you happy? Please, just tell me what I did wrong?” The barrage of questions ended with Celeste sobbing in a heap on the grass and Steven hobbling over to her as best he could. “Come on, I’ll take you home, and we’ll talk.”

Four hours and two boxes of tissues later each lay in their own beds considering everything that was said and everything that had gone unsaid for so long. Steven tried to explain his need for the attention and validation that Mindy had provided, and although Celeste didn’t understand she promised to pray about it and try to forgive him.

Steven pushed up on his elbows and stared at the stub where his leg used to be, the light filtering in shone on it. He saw the end for first time, the end of the old Steven. This physical change had left his spirit in need of an overhaul also. He reached for his crutches and pushed to standing, opting not to bother with his prosthesis.

When he tapped on Celeste’s door he received an immediate, “Come in.”

“Hi, Cel, sorry to bother but I know the answer.” He dropped into the chair across from her bed and spoke before she could ask about the question. “Since the first time I heard you pray I was confused. You had something I didn’t. You knew someone that was a mystery to me. When I was a kid church was a chore, praise and worship were buzzwords that had no meaning, and everyone knew that God was unreachable and a relationship with Him a myth. Then you came along and spoke to Him as if He were in the room and genuinely cared about you.” He took a breath, watching her expression change. “Over time it grated on me that you were somehow rubbing salt in that wound when you were just living your beliefs. Now I know that Mindy was a last ditch effort to steal your attention and prove that your faith was misplaced. I also know that I am curious and jealous and hungry for whatever you’ve got. I need to know God like you do and I need it tonight. Can you help me?” The silent tears stained his face, running over Celeste’s fingers as she held both sides of it. “I’d love to.”

* * *

“Sweetheart, it’s here!” Steven burst through the door box in hand and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Already. Oh, I can’t open it. You do it.” He had known she would say that and produced a pocketknife to break the seal. She closed her eyes and waited with her hands outstretched. Steven placed the book in her hand, “Silent Dreams, a novel by Celeste Watkins.” He kissed her cheek, one hand landing on her rounded belly, the other spinning the gold band on her left hand.

(c)2004 Beatrice E. Scalf

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