Heaven Sent Husband. Gilbert Morris

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СКАЧАТЬ lanes, Ket thought of how her life had been so successful in some ways and such a failure in others. Scholastically, she had always excelled and now in her last months of training for her R.N. she was known at Mercy Hospital as an excellent new nurse. She had always been successful at sports, too, and one tennis pro had told her she could make a living at the game, if she wanted to give her life to it. Ketura had laughed at him. “Tennis isn’t something you give your life to. I need more than that.”

      She reached the interstate and as soon as she was clear of the Dallas city traffic, she stepped on the accelerator. As always, as the wind rushed toward her and the road swept by, she experienced that delight in the open car that she could not explain.

      She drove for nearly an hour, enjoying her solitude, then finally turned back toward the city. As she sent the car through the darkness, she listened to her favorite station on the radio. It was typical that she would listen to such a station, which played the nostalgia music of the forties and fifties—the famous big bands and the great vocalists of that era. Somehow the music soothed her, and when she got back to Dallas she turned off the highway abruptly and soon found herself at a place she knew very well—the parking lot of the ballpark in Arlington—home field of her favorite major league team.

      She parked the convertible, got out and began to walk. There was no ball game that night. The team was on a road trip. The skies had turned a velvety blue-black hue now, and overhead a Cheshire cat moon grinned down at her. The stars were sprinkled liberally overhead, and the air of night felt warm. She moved toward the stadium itself, the home plate entrance, and when she got there thought how different it was here when there was no game. The sound of traffic—of heavy trucks and smaller cars—came to her like a distant hum not unlike that of bees. But here there was a quietness that was almost palpable. Looking up, she walked up to the barred gates and wished that there were a game tonight to take her mind off her ruined evening. She loved baseball and could quote innumerable statistics to the amusement of her father and the displeasure of her mother. “It’s not ladylike,” Lucille always said with a frown. But something about the game—ribald and rough as it was—pleased her.

      Finally she turned and began walking over the vacant parking lot, acres and acres of concrete with the tall poles bearing light all around. As she walked her mind returned again and again to the debacle of her date with Charlie Petrie. “I don’t even like him,” she announced aloud, her voice breaking the silence. And she continued to speak aloud as she sometimes did when she was in places where she was absolutely certain no one could hear. “He has absolutely nothing that would appeal to me. He doesn’t care anything at all about the things that I like. He wouldn’t even go to church with me. That’s enough for me to turn him down, but I didn’t! I agreed to go see that stupid movie with him! Why did I do it?”

      Abruptly she turned away as if trying to turn away from her own thoughts, but they followed her as she circled one of the huge light poles and meandered around the acres of empty parking lot. But as she did, she faced the truth about herself. “I wanted a date. I wanted some man to like me. What’s wrong with that? Every woman likes that!”

      The argument seemed sound enough, but somehow Ket was not happy with it. She turned, shaking her head, and moved back to her car. Instead of getting in, she leaned against it, fixed her eyes on the stadium, thought of the lights and the cheers and the screams of the crowd when one of her favorite players knocked the ball out of the park, and wished again that there were a game. Finally, however, she opened the door and got in. Settling behind the wheel, she said, “I guess I’ve got to face up to it.” She gripped the steering wheel hard until her hands ached, then spoke up firmly, “I’m never going to find a Prince Charming. There’ll be no wedding bells or family for me. I’ll have to fill my life up with other things!”

      Overhead she saw the Cheshire cat moon grinning—old silver glowing in the sky—but it gave her no pleasure. Still speaking aloud softly, she argued with herself. “I really should count my blessings. I have so much. I’ve got a good family. I’ve got a good church—and I’ve found a career I love. A lot of women would like to have all of that. And I have India.”

      The thought of India washed over her quickly—images of Bombay where she had already made two mission trips with a team of doctors and nurses. Her heart had been touched by that place and the terrible conditions of the people there. She remembered a tiny woman that she had found in the streets, emaciated and drawn, and somehow the love of God had flowed through her and she had sat down and held the woman until she died in her arms. From that moment she had known that someday she would serve God as a medical missionary in India.

      “Yes, I’ve got India. That’s my future. Something to work toward. My life can really make a difference. As for Prince Charming, who needs him? Even if I met a man I really liked, that would only complicate things. God obviously doesn’t want me to get involved with anyone right now, so I’ll be free to do the work He’s called me to,” she reasoned.

      With determination she started up the car and headed toward the exit. Somehow she knew that this night had changed her life. “No Prince Charming for me,” she murmured as she headed toward home.

      When she reached the house, Ket was surprised to see that the lights were still on. She went inside and found her father, dressed in his pajamas and a robe, sitting at the kitchen table. He was dipping graham crackers into a glass of milk—his favorite snack. Looking up, he said at once, “I’ve been worried about you, Ket.”

      “Oh, I’m all right. You shouldn’t have waited up.”

      Roger Lindsey sat there struggling for words. The love he had for this daughter of his was enormous. Perhaps it was because she needed him more than his other two daughters, although he cared deeply for them. Now he dipped a graham cracker into the milk, bit it off, swallowed then said, “Try not to care too much. He’s not worth it.”

      “No, he’s not.” Forcing a smile, Ket came over and put her arm around her father. “Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’m all right. I have plenty going on in my life. I have plans. My training will be over soon, and I’ll be an R.N.”

      “And then you’ll be going off to India and leaving us.”

      “Yes, but that’s what God has called me to do. So, you wouldn’t want me to do anything else, would you?”

      “No, I wouldn’t.” He stood, suddenly put his arms around Ket and hugged her tightly. “I’m very proud of you, daughter,” he said huskily. Then he turned and left the room, saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      Ket quickly showered, put on her nightgown, but she was thinking of her father. He wants to help, she thought, but he doesn’t know how a woman who’s rejected feels. I don’t think any man could ever understand that—but he’s a sweet thing. Why can’t I find one like him, who loves tall plain girls?

      Finally she got into bed, turned the reading light on and propped herself up. Picking up the thick Bible from her bedside table, she began to read. The Bible was her favorite book. She read other things, of course, but this was the one that really appealed to her. She was reading now all the way through the Bible from Genesis to Revelation and had reached the thirtieth chapter of Isaiah. He was her favorite among the major prophets, and she settled down, forcibly putting everything out of her mind except the text that was before her. She had an enviable way of focusing on the thing at hand. Other things might occur, but once she was in this mode, whether it was studying medicine or the Bible, or reading a poem, she had learned the secret of total concentration.

      She began reading and the first verse said, “Woe to the rebellious children, saith the Lord, that take counsel, but not of Me.” She thought about that for a moment, for she also had the habit of reading a verse, stopping and thinking, and meditating upon it. СКАЧАТЬ