Rejoice by Karen Kingsbury Read Free Book Online Page B

answering him.
    Here, though, with his sweet Hayley girl dying a few feet away, it wasn’t that Peter couldn’t believe. Rather he didn’t want to. Because if God allowed Hayley to die or to live life hooked to machines, then Peter didn’t want anything to do with him.
    And now, in light of Ryan’s suggestion, Peter decided to tell God just that. He gripped the railing on his daughter’s hospital bed and closed his eyes. God . . . what are you doing? Why did this happen? His breathing grew faster, and he opened his mouth so the sound wouldn’t attract Brooke’s attention. You have to make her live; you have to. I can’t believe in a God who would let my daughter die, not when she’s only started living.
    Peter opened his eyes and studied Hayley again.
    Make her well, God. Otherwise I’ll know you don’t exist. Because no good God would take the life of an innocent three-year-old . If she dies, then either you don’t exist or you’re not good. And if that happens, this will be my last conversation with you.
    Peter let his final silent statement swing from the rafters of his mind. But before he could switch gears and try to imagine how much longer his daughter had, how quickly they might lose her, Hayley moved. Not a big movement, but one of her hands definitely moved.
    “Hayley?” Brooke lifted her head and studied their little girl. “Did you see that?”
    “Yes.” Peter was about to reach out for his daughter’s hand when she moved it again. At the same time, a soft moan came from her throat.
    Peter didn’t wait. He spun around and ran into the hall. “Dr. Martinez, quick . . .”
    The doctor was talking with the rest of the team near the nurses’ station. He looked stricken, as though the news had to be bad. “Is she—”
    “She moved!” Peter heard the hope in his voice. “Come look.”
    The doctor and three others followed Peter back into the room and surrounded Hayley, checking the monitors and breathing apparatus. Peter and Brooke stepped back against the far wall of the room.
    Brooke hung her head, her fists clenched. “Please, God . . . please.”
    Peter gulped back the lump in his throat and thought about the words he’d been saying to God when Hayley moved. A sense of awe and wonder filled him. Had God heard him, responded to him even though his words had been unkind? He reminded himself to breathe as he waited for the doctors to say something.
    After five minutes, Dr. Martinez turned to them and grinned. “She’s breathing on her own.”
    Brooke let out a cry and crossed her arms tight around her waist. “Does that . . . does that mean her brain might be okay?”
    Shadows fell across the doctor’s face. “We’re a long way from knowing. It only means she’s clinging to life, clinging by a thread. Her brain could continue to swell, but if she survives the next three days, we’ll assess the extent of her damage.” The team of doctors moved toward the door, and Dr. Martinez stopped short. “We have a long road ahead; I have to be honest with you.”
    Peter’s awe and wonder dissipated like April snow.
    So it hadn’t been a miracle after all. Peter clenched his jaw and watched Brooke hurry back to Hayley’s side, watched her take hold of their daughter’s hand and whisper to her. “Hayley, come back to us, baby. We’re here for you. Mommy and Daddy are here, sweetie. We’re here, Hayley. . . .”
    So she was breathing on her own. So what?
    They didn’t have hurdles left on the road to their daughter’s recovery; they had mountains. Mountains the size of Everest. If she made it through the next three days, she would almost certainly be severely brain damaged, one of those children whose hands and legs were in a constant state of seizure, a child whose mouth would hang open, drooling, making slow attempts at movement.
    And if that happened, his threat to God was still intact. He would have no reason to talk to him again, no reason to believe. Once more he looked