and she seemed almost apologetic when she spoke. “Your wife is a patient here, yes.”
He took two steps backward from the blow, his mind reeling.
It was true.
His wife was in a psychiatric hospital. Ben paced the bedroom floor, desperately searching for a solution. “What kind of place is Orchards, anyway?” He was buying time, trying to think of a way to get Maggie home where she belonged.
“We’re a private Christian hospital for patients suffering with mental illness.”
Mental illness? Maggie? It wasn’t possible.
“All right, when will she be released? This evening? Tomorrow morning?”
The nurse hesitated. “Sir, the inpatient program can last up to two or even three months.”
Ben couldn’t breathe; pain wracked his body as though someone had sucker punched him in the gut. The blow forced him to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Three months?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you put me through to her, please?”
“Your wife is very ill, and I hope you understand what I’m about to say.” She paused again. “I’m afraid she’s requested no contact with you, Mr. Stovall.”
This time the shock of her words sent him to his knees. “
What?
”
“She has advised us that she will not accept your phone calls, letters, or visits.”
Ben struggled to breathe.
God…help me.
“She said that?”
“Yes. But understand that her feelings could change once she’s had time to talk with the doctor.”
“Does she…is she in a private room?”
The nurse seemed to consider whether this was information she should share. “Yes, but we have her in a special unit.”
Ben’s head was pounding, and he didn’t know what to say, how to respond. “Special unit? What…what special unit?”
“Suicide watch, Mr. Stovall. I’m sorry.”
Ben hung up the phone and, still on the floor, hunched over his knees.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t…but it was. In the lasttwenty-four hours his wife had caused an accident that could have killed herself and their two foster boys. She’d been hospitalized for a fall that still didn’t make sense. She had lost custody of Casey and Cameron and written him a letter stating in no uncertain terms that she was finished with him and would divorce him soon. She had admitted that somewhere along the course of their life she had lied to him about something, apparently something crucial. And then she’d checked herself into a mental hospital where she was under—of all things—a suicide watch.
It was too much to bear.
“No! Help me, God…please!” He screamed the words, and they ricocheted against the textured walls of his empty home. When he didn’t hear anything back from the Lord, he buried his head in his hands and did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy.
He wept.
What was Maggie doing? Did she intend to sever their vows, forget about him, push him aside? Why hadn’t she shared any of this with him?
I’m your best friend, remember, Maggie? How could you do this? God, help me understand.
He remained unmoving, pain tearing through his body until slowly, carefully, he was able to accept one part of his new reality: Whatever her motivation, Maggie was very, very sick.
An hour later he still had no answers, no explanations. But he did have a single goal. Maggie was his partner, his confidante, his wife. He was closer to her than to anyone, anywhere. She was his Maggie girl. Whatever the problem was, he would help her. Even if he spent the rest of his life trying. Ben exhaled, pushing the pain from his lungs and realized it was the same way he’d felt back in 1991, the day he met her.
And just as he’d decided then, he would win Maggie over and prove his love, whatever it took.
Ben pulled himself to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. He forced himself to think. Who would know Maggie wellenough to shed light on the situation at hand? She had no siblings, no close friends since Tammy left the neighborhood the year before. Her father had
He took two steps backward from the blow, his mind reeling.
It was true.
His wife was in a psychiatric hospital. Ben paced the bedroom floor, desperately searching for a solution. “What kind of place is Orchards, anyway?” He was buying time, trying to think of a way to get Maggie home where she belonged.
“We’re a private Christian hospital for patients suffering with mental illness.”
Mental illness? Maggie? It wasn’t possible.
“All right, when will she be released? This evening? Tomorrow morning?”
The nurse hesitated. “Sir, the inpatient program can last up to two or even three months.”
Ben couldn’t breathe; pain wracked his body as though someone had sucker punched him in the gut. The blow forced him to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Three months?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you put me through to her, please?”
“Your wife is very ill, and I hope you understand what I’m about to say.” She paused again. “I’m afraid she’s requested no contact with you, Mr. Stovall.”
This time the shock of her words sent him to his knees. “
What?
”
“She has advised us that she will not accept your phone calls, letters, or visits.”
Ben struggled to breathe.
God…help me.
“She said that?”
“Yes. But understand that her feelings could change once she’s had time to talk with the doctor.”
“Does she…is she in a private room?”
The nurse seemed to consider whether this was information she should share. “Yes, but we have her in a special unit.”
Ben’s head was pounding, and he didn’t know what to say, how to respond. “Special unit? What…what special unit?”
“Suicide watch, Mr. Stovall. I’m sorry.”
Ben hung up the phone and, still on the floor, hunched over his knees.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t…but it was. In the lasttwenty-four hours his wife had caused an accident that could have killed herself and their two foster boys. She’d been hospitalized for a fall that still didn’t make sense. She had lost custody of Casey and Cameron and written him a letter stating in no uncertain terms that she was finished with him and would divorce him soon. She had admitted that somewhere along the course of their life she had lied to him about something, apparently something crucial. And then she’d checked herself into a mental hospital where she was under—of all things—a suicide watch.
It was too much to bear.
“No! Help me, God…please!” He screamed the words, and they ricocheted against the textured walls of his empty home. When he didn’t hear anything back from the Lord, he buried his head in his hands and did something he hadn’t done since he was a little boy.
He wept.
What was Maggie doing? Did she intend to sever their vows, forget about him, push him aside? Why hadn’t she shared any of this with him?
I’m your best friend, remember, Maggie? How could you do this? God, help me understand.
He remained unmoving, pain tearing through his body until slowly, carefully, he was able to accept one part of his new reality: Whatever her motivation, Maggie was very, very sick.
An hour later he still had no answers, no explanations. But he did have a single goal. Maggie was his partner, his confidante, his wife. He was closer to her than to anyone, anywhere. She was his Maggie girl. Whatever the problem was, he would help her. Even if he spent the rest of his life trying. Ben exhaled, pushing the pain from his lungs and realized it was the same way he’d felt back in 1991, the day he met her.
And just as he’d decided then, he would win Maggie over and prove his love, whatever it took.
Ben pulled himself to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed. He forced himself to think. Who would know Maggie wellenough to shed light on the situation at hand? She had no siblings, no close friends since Tammy left the neighborhood the year before. Her father had
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