Miracles
Lester’s Story
Carey Mozena
Copyright 2011 Carey Mozena
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A chilly breeze wafted through the early morning sky as the sun began to rise. Lester shivered as he began setting up the poles to his tarp for the flea market. He had been looking forward to opening day, and had loaded his van with all sorts of goodies to sell. Since the ground was blacktopped, Lester brought concrete blocks with him to tie the tarp to so that it wouldn’t dance around in the breeze. He noticed that other people had brought different kinds of weights for their tarps; one person was using milk jugs filled with water, another was tying the tarp to the tables they had brought. The woman next to him was hanging baby clothes onto the frame of the tarp to hold it down. Lester watched them for a moment and got back to setting his own tarp up.
The first rays of the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, revealing hundreds of people just like Lester setting up tarps and tables to show off and sell their goods. Looking around, Lester noticed that there weren’t as many people as was usual for opening day. He figured that the thunderstorms forecasted for that evening were to blame. He shrugged it off. The flea market never lasted past five o’clock anyway, and he could always pack up early. He yawned as he began unpacking the first box.
Not long after he began, he got his first customer. Lester smiled. It was always good luck to make your first sale before you were done setting up. He paused as he helped the young man around his stand. Lester explained what kinds of tools he had, and gave reasons why the young man might need one. The young man listened half-heartedly, and left the stand without making a purchase. Lester sighed and got back to work.
When he was nearly done setting up, his daughter, Caitlyn, who had been napping in the van, came out rubbing her eyes. She half sat, half leaned on the back bumper and watched Lester finish unpacking. When he was done, he grabbed a blanket out of the van and wrapped her in it. He could tell she was still sleepy, so he picked her up and set her inside the now empty van. He sat next to her and waited for another customer.
By noon, the winds began to pick up a little, making the concrete blocks sway. Lester wasn’t too concerned; he had the tarp set up and hold well in stronger winds that this. Besides, he had made several sales and had four different people now looking at his tools, one of which was digging through his wallet. Lester walked up to him to complete another sale as a large, dark cloud passed by overhead and the winds started to howl. The women who set up next to him were starting to take their tarp off of the frame. As he looked around him, several other vendors were taking their tarps down. He watched the sky for a few minutes before deciding to wait it out. The storms weren’t supposed to come this far north for a few more hours, at least. Five minutes later, the winds died down and the large cloud passed, allowing the sun to bathe the flea market in its hot rays once more. Lester chuckled to himself as he watched everyone else bake in the sun while he still enjoyed the shade from his tarp.
Less than an hour later, Lester noticed several people begin to pack up, including the women beside him. He thought it was rather unusual for everyone to pack up so early, but understood their rush when he overheard someone talking about the storms moving faster than predicted, and that the first should be their within minutes. Panic flashed across Lester’s face as he grabbed the nearest box and began throwing stuff into it. Just as he got the first box done, the winds returned with a fury. He shouted for Caitlyn to get into the van and stay there as the rain began. Usually, rain begins as a sprinkle, then slowly gets heavier. Not this time. The first drop turned into a downpour in less than a minute. Lester was soaked as he scrambled to pack up his tools. He wasn’t even paying any attention to his tarp until another man ran over to him and cried out that the wind was trying to take the tarp.
Lester dropped the box he was filling as the tarp jumped nearly two feet in the air and slammed down hard. He and the other man grabbed the frame of the tarp to hold it down. Lester tried in vain to undo the ties that held the tarp to the frame and to the concrete blocks. It was all he could do to hold onto the tarp while the storm grew stronger every minute. The tarp jumped and slammed back down violently as he and the other man held tight, but the wind was too strong. In one mighty wave, the wind grabbed the tarp, along with the concrete blocks and the two men, and carried it out into the isle between the rows of vendors. Lester lost his grip and fell as the wind pulled the tarp over him, dragging the concrete blocks. Pain exploded in his head as his world went dark.
*****
Caitlyn stared in shocked silence, willing her father to get back up, but he just lay there as lots of other people swarmed around him. The wind was rocking the van and the rain pounded the windows, but Caitlyn hardly noticed. She just witnessed her father get smacked in the head with a concrete block, fall, and not get back up. She wanted to yell, scream, shout, cry, and run to him to wake him up, but all she could do was sit there, frozen, as if the world stood still.
Minutes that seemed like an eternity later, an ambulance raced to the scene, lights flashing and sirens wailing. Paramedics lifted Caitlyn’s father onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. One of them came over to the van, picked her up, and carried her to the ambulance. The paramedic’s touch seemed to awaken Caitlyn, and the emotions that were frozen a moment ago now came flooding out. She screamed and cried, shouted and struggled against the strong arms that held her tight in the ambulance as it sped away. She stared at her father, who looked as if he was only sleeping and would wake at any moment, but he didn’t.
She was directed to a waiting room once they reached the hospital. She had wanted to stay with her father, but the doctors wouldn’t let her. She looked from the nurse who waited with her to the door, and back to the nurse again. She wanted to run away, but she knew that the nurse would catch her before she made it to the door. She was afraid of the nurse. She was afraid of the hospital and all its doctors. She was afraid that her father might not wake up. She was afraid because she was alone.
Caitlyn sat in a chair in a corner away from the nurse and looked at her hands. The horrible day ran over and over in her mind. Fresh tears spilled over her cheeks every time she saw her father get hit with that concrete block. It had only been a few seconds from the moment the wind lifted the tarp until her father lay unmoving, but her mind’s eye played tricks on her so that she witnessed her father losing control and getting hurt in slow motion. Every time it played in her head, it got worse. The first time the accident looked as it happened. The second time, she heard her father’s voice cry out as he got hit. The third time, he got hit with the block and some of the poles, which were broken and sharp. She shut her eyes and shook her head, hoping to shake these images away, but they kept coming back.
The door clicked open, making Caitlyn jump, and a woman walked in. Caitlyn didn’t recognize her since her tears were making everything blurry. She tried to quiet her crying, but a fresh wave hit her when the new woman wrapped shaking arms around her, and she realized that the new woman was her mother. She had come at last. Caitlyn squeezed her mother’s neck and cried into her shoulder. These new tears weren’t the same as before. These were tears of relief. Caitlyn knew, now that her mother was there, everything was going to be all right. Her mother would make her father wake up, and they could all go home together.
*****
Joanne picked her daughter up and held her tightly. She had been numb since getting that awful call that told her that her husband, Lester, had been hurt at the flea market, and that he and their daughter, Caitlyn, were both at the hospital. She jumped into her car and raced the whole way there, cursing the traffic and wondering how such a nice, normal day could have turned out so badly. The words that the police officer said over the phone repeated in her mind over and over. ‘Lester had been hit pretty hard in the head by a concrete block and knocked unconscious. He and the little girl with him had been taken to the local hospital.’ Tears streaming from her eyes made it hard to see the road, but she made it. Now, with her daughter in her arms, a new wave of fear washed over her for her husband.
Another nurse walked into the waiting room with a somber look on her face, and stood next to Joanne. Taking the hint, she set her daughter back in a chair and turned to the nurse. Not wanting Caitlyn to overhear, the nurse bent close to Joanne and whispered that the corner of the concrete block had caught Lester just above his eye, and that they didn’t think he’d make it through the night. Joanne’s breath caught in her throat and she covered her mouth with her fingers as the nurse’s words echoed in her mind. She couldn’t bear the thought of living without him or raising their daughter alone. She began shaking as new tears spilled over her cheeks and dripped onto her shirt, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. She picked Caitlyn up again and followed the nurse to the room where Lester lay. He looked just like he was sleeping, except for the IV running into his arm, the wires, and the heavy bandaging around his head. She set Caitlyn down in a chair by the window, pulled another one up to the bed and stroked Lester’s hand as she tried to cry her pain away.
The sky was dark and still very cloudy as Joanne drove home that night. A light drizzle kept everything wet and miserable, but the winds from the storm had died. Joanne’s face was dry and blank as she stared at the empty road ahead. She couldn’t bear to say goodbye to her husband before she left, so she whispered that she’d see him tomorrow morning. An awful thought played in the back of her mind; ‘If he’s still alive when I come back.’ Joanne sniffed and glanced in the rearview mirror. Caitlyn was asleep in her booster seat in the back. It was way past her bedtime, and Joanne figured that she was emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened that day. Joanne was emotionally drained, too. She didn’t have any more tears left to cry.
The next morning, Joanne dropped Caitlyn off at a neighbor’s house and briefly explained the situation. She didn’t have time to take in their reaction, nor did she really care to. She knew she had to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, but she drove slowly. It took her longer to get there than it did the night before with all the traffic. She didn’t jump out of the car and rush inside like last night, either. She sat in the car and stared out into space as her mind wandered. She saw herself waking Caitlyn each morning and fixing breakfast for just the two of them. She imagined standing by the door alone and watching her get on the bus. She pictured the empty house, and how frightening it would be to be alone all day long. She wondered if she would continue the tradition of going out to eat every Thursday that Lester began before Caitlyn was born. She wondered if she’d be able to continue living without him.
Joanne expected to feel tears welling up as she slowly made her way to the front doors of the hospital, but they remained dry. She figured she had used them all up the night before. She barely heard the receptionist at the front desk wish her ‘good morning’ as she headed to the elevator. She didn’t remember getting in or pushing the buttons, but the elevator doors opened up to the fourth floor hall where Caitlyn had been waiting and Lester’s room was. She dragged her feet as she walked to his room and paused outside the door. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she walked into the room and couldn’t believe her eyes.
Lester was still there, covered in wires and bandages, but he was sitting up and eating breakfast. He smiled at her as she stood there, shocked. Relief washed over her as she ran up to him and threw her arms around him, crying and shaking uncontrollably. He squeezed her back. Finally, she released him, still shaking and wiping the tears away. The nurse who had given Joanne the bad news the night before came in and explained that his recovery couldn’t be explained. One moment he was unconscious and slipping away, and the next moment he was wide awake and wondering what he was doing in the hospital, and where his daughter was. The nurse told them both that Lester was healthy enough to leave the hospital that same day. Joanne cried harder, but this time, they were tears of joy.
Epilogue
Years later, Joanne set up at the same flea market. She began a conversation with the two women who set up beside her. They talked about lots of things, including how they cleverly used their tarp frame as a clothes rack to show off the baby clothes they were selling, since they couldn’t bring a real one. They explained how it helped to weigh down the tarp during strong winds, too. Joanne then told them about the time a storm brewed up and nearly killed her husband, not expecting them to believe her, but they nodded and said that they were there that day and had seen the whole thing. They told her that they had explained to the pastor of their church about the accident and that the church had prayed for him.
The conversation was interrupted when several customers came to look at the women’s baby clothes, and Joanne thought about what they had said. Their whole church prayed for Lester to get better sometime Sunday morning. The nurse had said that Lester made a complete comeback early Sunday morning, although none of the doctors had any idea why. The thought struck Joanne like lightning. The reason why Lester was okay was because these women and their church had prayed! Joanne had never believed in the power of prayer.
She did now.
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About the Author:
C.L.Mozena lives in southeast Ohio with her seven cats and one dog. She enjoys painting, taking walks, and writing (of course!).
She has many short stories published in the local newspaper and contributed into book collections of short stories by a group of local authors.
Discover other titles by Carey Mozena at Smashwords.com:
Miracles:
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