Chapter Thirty-Four
AN ANGEL’S SONG ROUSED CONSTANZA from the depths of oblivion into an ethereal trance. The melody was so beautiful. So peaceful. And the voice so . . . familiar?
Constanza tilted her head to free her other ear from the sound-dampening mattress.
“‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think Nora was singing to her.
An impossibility, but a comfort she’d accept nonetheless.
The words of the song reminded her of the psalm Nurse Rhodes had read to her yesterday.
Or was it today? With the way sedation blurred the march of time, she couldn’t be sure.
Still, the words soothed the nerves tingling back to life from her latest dose. She relaxed back against the mattress.
Between Nora’s parting conversation and Nurse Rhodes’s kindness in reading and explaining the Bible to Constanza, she was beginning to believe the words being sung.
There was no one and nothing to fear when the Lord was her light and salvation.
He was to be her strength to make it through.
She just had to trust Him and rest in that trust. Not that trust would free her from trouble.
Nurse Rhodes had been clear on that. Jesus promised His followers there would be trouble, and the saints writing after the Gospels had proven it.
Yet no matter the beatings, imprisonments, and persecutions they faced, they had peace and freedom from fear.
Constanza wanted to be like them. To have faith like them.
To not wrestle with this crushing guilt and fear for Nora’s life.
Maybe this angelic voice that sounded so much like Nora’s was a gift from God.
An assurance that Nora was well, not that she was an angel.
Constanza shuddered at the thought. No mother wished to outlive her child, but neither did she want Nora to live a life shadowed by fear like Constanza had.
Nora deserved better. She deserved a life with Mr. Beaumont, who would provide her the music, joy, and happiness that had been lacking for so long.
A life free of the sorrows and dangers Constanza’s choices had produced.
So many hours alone had given her time to reflect on her past, Nora’s words, and on the verses Nurse Rhodes had shared.
Constanza could feel a change beginning, but she still struggled.
Forgiveness could not erase her past or the consequences that reached forward to harm her child.
Lord, it is all my fault, and I’m so sorry. I know I’ve confessed it to You before, but I still feel guilt, and I’m still afraid. Afraid for Nora, for Marcellus, and for myself. I know You’ve forgiven me. Help me. Be my light. My salvation. My strength. Take away my fear.
She lay listening to the verses speak of trusting the Lord in the face of enemies, desiring only to dwell in the house of the Lord, and hiding within His protection in times of trouble.
They were reminders that bolstered her soul and proved He was already her light and her strength, and He was intent on replacing that fear with peace, as much as she would allow Him.
“‘Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord.’”
The song ended, and the quiet that followed felt hallowed and special.
“Sing it again!” someone yelled from one of the other isolation rooms.
The voice began again, and it was not interrupted until Constanza’s door opened.
Nurse Rhodes slid into the room, carrying a lunch tray, and quietly shut the door. Her hushed tones spoke of not wanting to overpower the holy moment that filled this forgotten corner of Longview. “Hello, Mrs. Davis. How are you feeling today?”
“Like an angel has come to visit.” She grimaced at the scratchiness in her throat. As much as she hated the tepid gruel, she looked forward to the soothing coating it would create.
Nurse Rhodes chuckled as she arranged the tray on the chair she’d brought in during the last visit. “I imagine most mothers believe their daughters to be angels, and yours has made isolation a place of peace. I never thought that possible.”
Constanza pushed to her elbows, the effort causing a whirl of dizziness. “Nora’s here?” That couldn’t be right. Not unless something bad had happened.
Nurse Rhodes shushed her and helped her to a secure sitting position. “Be at peace. I told you God would not forsake you or your daughter. He has brought her here for safekeeping.”
The familiar grip of panic returned. “Safekeeping? What happened?”
“Nothing you need to be concerned about, just an unpleasant encounter with her own version of Winston.”
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
Thank You, Jesus. “Is he?”
Nurse Rhodes avoided Constanza’s gaze as she collected the bowl and spoon. “Unfortunately, I believe his injuries are rather significant.”
“Good for her.”
“Mrs. Davis!” She scowled as she handed off the lackluster lunch. “That is not how you should respond. He was an innocent man, same as the one you attacked.”
Only if you consider the devil innocent. These people had no idea the kind of miscreants she’d associated with as Katherine Yates. “Has anyone checked to see if he is the same man?”
“Not to my knowledge, but it matters not. What matters is both of your actions indicate you need help, and that’s what we’re here to do.”
The poor, naive girl. Nurse Shreckhise was right. She wouldn’t last long here with that ridiculous belief. The only nurses who lasted more than a month were cynical or derived pleasure from the suffering of their patients. And now Nora was to be their next victim.
Constanza laid aside the bowl and pushed to her feet. Somehow, she’d free Nora and help her escape these cruel walls. She wobbled with her first step.
Nurse Rhodes steadied her. “Oh dear. I’ve excited you too much.” She gently but firmly pushed Constanza back onto the bed. “You must calm yourself. You don’t want to be sedated again, do you?”
“No.” Constanza needed to be awake and ready to talk to Nora as soon as she could without arousing the attention of the nurses.
“Good.” Nurse Rhodes retrieved the tilting bowl before it spilled and handed it to Constanza. “Now eat quietly and enjoy your daughter’s voice. I’m sure it won’t be long before one of the other nurses hears her and decides she needs her rest.” Once satisfied with Constanza’s compliance, she left.
Constanza set aside her bowl and glanced around for any way to reach Nora. Maybe if there was a weakness in the wall—
“Wait, I say, on the Lord.”
The final words of the psalm stopped her frantic planning.
What was she doing? She’d asked for the Lord to be her light and strength.
Only He could be their salvation from this mess.
And hadn’t Nurse Rhodes said He’d brought Nora here for safekeeping?
Peace could only be obtained in the trusting, and Constanza so desperately wanted to trust that He knew what He was doing.
I surrender, Lord. I want to trust Your plan. Help me to see it. Give me peace, not fear.
Constanza closed her eyes and listened to the soft play of Nora’s voice as she tested different musical phrases with a new psalm.
Winston had attacked Nora but failed to harm her.
Nurse Rhodes hadn’t mentioned Ursula, but maybe by bringing Nora here, God was protecting her.
Nora was smart. She wouldn’t suffer here as Constanza had.
Nora would comply and play to Dr. Chalfant’s expectations for recovery.
As much as Constanza wanted to be the one to rescue Nora, the truth was she couldn’t.
Constanza would have to lean into her fledgling trust of Jesus and His promise to never leave nor forsake them.
“You’re fired.” Crosley’s tone brooked no argument. “And don’t think you can abandon your responsibilities in the middle of a show and get a job as stage manager elsewhere. I’ll make sure every opera house in the city knows how unreliable you are.”
One show missed in three years did not make Ezekiel unreliable.
If only the man would listen to reason instead of the echoes of his anger bouncing off the foyer’s tiled floor and high ceilings.
“I didn’t abandon my duties in the middle of a show.
There were still hours before the performance, and I made sure Kenneth was up to the task. ”
“So it wasn’t your duty to ensure the prompt book Kenneth used was properly marked? Or your duty to inspect all the stage equipment before the performers took to the stage again?”
“It was, and I did.”
“Then tell me why, during last night’s performance, Kenneth missed giving half the necessary cues and the bed collapsed in on itself while Othello smothered Desdemona.”
“Because that fool of a new stagehand had the audacity to quote the Scottish Play and name it before rehearsal.” It was the only explanation, other than Kenneth might not have been as competent for the job as Ezekiel had thought.
“You can’t blame a superstition for a failure to do your job. Collect your things, and then I never want you setting foot in this building again.”
Ezekiel had no choice but to comply. Crosley stood at the door of Ezekiel’s office the entire time he collected his belongings into a box, apparently afraid Ezekiel was a thief as well as incompetent.
As soon as Ezekiel stepped outside, Crosley slammed the door and locked it.
One would think that for as faithful and hardworking as Ezekiel had been, Crosley might have spared a moment for concern over what would have been so important to draw Ezekiel away, but the man hadn’t even asked for or allowed an explanation.
When Ezekiel returned home, Tristan met him at the door. He must have been hoping Nora or Ma was with him, because when Tristan realized Ezekiel was alone, he strutted off with his tail twitching in the air.
“If I could bring either or both of them home, boy, I would.”
But he couldn’t do anything. Not his job. Not compose songs. He couldn’t even take a turn following Mrs. Reed. She’d recognize him in an instant. Even if she didn’t know his connection to Nora, garnering her attention was too big a risk.
He dropped the box onto the piano bench and lifted the family Bible off its sacred spot on the table between Ma’s and Pa’s chairs.
Hope lay between the cracked and worn covers, and he was in desperate need of hope.
For the first time in a long time, he didn’t just sit with the Word in his lap; he devoured it.
All throughout, anguished and honest prayer fell from his lips until there was no more anger, blame, fear, desperation, or helplessness to confess.
He’d emptied himself, and in the silence that followed, God’s still small voice whispered, “This is not your burden to carry alone. Take My yoke upon you, and you shall find rest.”
Leave it to God to use the same concept on Ezekiel that Ezekiel had used to encourage Nora to trust him. “I hear You, Lord. I submit. Help me, because I feel responsible and helpless to save those I love.”
“You were never meant to save them. It’s not your job. Their souls are in My hand, and no one can snatch them from Me.”