A/N This takes place during Love's Abiding Joy, book version, right as Clark is discovering that Juan had to amputate his leg. FYI, Clark is kind of ooc, but is meant to be so.
Marty was right beside his bed as Clark finally woke up, 4 hours, after the seemingly endless surgery had ended. When he finally came around, he was tired, out of it, dazed, and confused, but he was still himself, the wonderful, Clark Davis. He smiled his loving, one-in- a-million smile at her, and she smiled back. "Am I in Heaven?" He asked seriously, and Marty couldn't tell whether he really thought he had died, or if he was just messing with her.
"Clark." She said, emotionless, she was too scared to have any emotion in her voice. Clark's handsome smile grew even larger, as he softly began stroking Marty's hair.
"I thought I must've died and gone to Heaven for a moment, for there's an angel right beside me." Marty blushed and grinned, even after all these years of marriage, she still got butterflies when he told her that she was beautiful, or something like that. After all these years, she still couldn't feel anything except for where there flesh was toughing when they came in physical contact with one another. Her heart still began to race when he came into a room. That love they had found so many years ago, that was never intended to be found, was still there.
"I love you." She said, "And I'm so happy to finally be able to talk to you. I mean, I came in a spoke to you when you were unconscious too, but for you to respond, for me to know that you're all right."
"I love you too, Mrs. Davis." He clenched his teeth in sheer pain. Marty knew that the morphine that Dr. De la Rosa had used was beginning to wear off now, and even though she didn't want to leave her great, cherished, husband's bedside, she knew that she must.
"Well, I guess you'll be needing your sleep now." She said and began to get up; however, just as she rose to her feet, Clark grabbed her wrist firmly. She glanced down at him.
"Kiss me, Marty." Clark demanded. She, again smiled, and bent down and gave her husband a gentle yet passionate kiss on the lips. As they pulled away, she softly whispered, "Bless Dr. De la Rosa. He brought you back to us. He saved your life."
"Yeah, from what I hear from Lane and Willie that infection was pretty bad." He sighed, "I'll be forever thankful, that the doc was able to save my leg." Marty's heart skipped a beat; she then realized that Clark was not aware that his leg had been amputated. Quietly, but strongly, she said,
"He saved your life, Clark." Clark was somewhat perplexed. The doctor had saved his leg, hadn't he? Was the infection really that life-threatening? For no real reason at all, Clark peered down at his legs, and what he found shocked him. Not in a good way, but in a terrible way. He now knew why Marty had avoided talking about his leg. It wasn't there. The doctor must have had to take it off. He remained calm just long enough for Marty to whisper "I'm sorry. It was either your leg or you," and walk out the door of his homemade hospital room.
He wanted to scream, curse, throw a tantrum, and, basically, lose his mind. Yes, he was very thankful to be alive, he knew he shouldn't be, but he was, and that was a miracle that he would never be able to thank the Good Lord or Dr. De la Rosa enough for allowing. He would recover and, after some adjustments to life, be able to move on, with his family. He was a determined man, never able to give up without a fight, and would stop at nothing to do what was best for his family, himself, or for basic morals. Finally, he let out a moan of pain, he wasn't sure if it were the pain from the morphine warring off or the emotional pain he was in. But surer than anything it was pain.
Later that night, he lay in bed, still. Willie, Missie, Nathan, and Josiah were all asleep for the night in the other rooms. Marty lay asleep right beside him, sounder asleep than she'd been in days, but for some reason he couldn't get the grand sleep his family was getting. He knew why. It was a nasty, ugly thing called Self-Pity. He had never submerged to it before, every time it had threatened him, he' fought it away, but now, for some reason he couldn't. Why me? He thought as he lie there in bed. I'm a good person; I do for my family, my fellow man, and my Lord. I've never done anything that would just be good for me and no one else. Finally he thought the worse thought he'd ever thought before. I don't know why you picked me Lord; I follow, worship, read and speak, and act upon your word in every aspect of my life. Why me? There are plenty of guys out there who are worse, I know I'm no saint, but I'm a good man. There are guys out there that are criminals, heartless, womanizers, and guys so much worse than me. Why not punish them and stop them from the evil deeds that they do by doing this to them. He began to weep silently, half in self-pity, half because he felt so ashamed of himself for thinking these thoughts.
He never had asked "Why me" before, he had always told his family never to doubt anything that happened, because the Lord wouldn't allow it to happen if it wouldn't help them become stronger, better people. I'm sorry, Lord. He thought, but in the following thought was why this did happen to me? I need my legs, both of them. I'm a farmer, a father, a grandfather, friend, and a husband. I need my legs to plow the field, ride a horse, drive a wagon, help out my family, friends, and neighbors, and take care of trouble that may arise. He glanced at Marty beside him. I need to be a whole man for her. I need to be able to take care of her. She married me twenty-two years ago because I needed her to be a mama for Missie. But over time, we fell in love I need her. But if I can't be a man and must stay in my entire life and be a vegetable what kind of husband am I being for her? A tear slid from his eyes, Please Lord, don't take her. I love her so. She's my life, my world, my everything. Why would she stay with me, her handicapped husband who won't be able to provide for her? She could up and leave. Nandry, Clae, Missie, and Clare are out of the house. Arnie is going off to medical school. All my children are grown up. He was lying to himself, saying that He was fearful Marty would take the kids and leave. No, Clark. They're all grown, they'd stay with you. Marty. That's what you're scared of, Marty leaving. Women generally do not do that, but she could. I love her so much, if I didn't have her, I don't know where I'd be, or where Missie would be. I need Marty, I love her.
It was just then that the thought hit him. Dang Clark! Here you are feeling sorry for yourself about how you fear you wife, who loves you more than anything, might leave you because you can't do anything for her. Well, she hasn't even remotely shown any signs that she doesn't want you anymore. She was at your bedside praying for you to wake, taking care of you while you weren't conscious, and making herself mad about you with worry. Look at her. Again, he looked down at Marty sleeping soundly on his chest. She's in love with you. She doesn't care that you only have one leg now; all she cares about is that you're alive. You know she'd never leave you Clark, no matter what. She loves you, and when you said your rushed vows those years, you had no idea how real they would be someday. The two shall become one. He and Marty from that day on had been two people living as one person, in sickness and in health. Clark was now sick, but that didn't change their love. He smiled and new, logical thoughts came into mind. You're scared, Clark. You're scared that you won't be able to do anything and that the house and the farm work will fall on Marty's delicate shoulders. Well, you know what, it won't! You're gonna do everything you used to do plus some. Not you, any of your neighbors, friends, family, nor Marty, will ever realize that you're a cripple. Lord, I'm sorry I was yelling at you and questioning you plan. I shouldn't have, you will always do what's best, and even if we don't realize that it is at first. I promise you, Lord, I will never ask why again, I will never wallow in the filth of pity of myself again. I will continue to be the good, hard-working, worshiping, family man I always have been. I may have slipped for a moment, but you were right there to bring me back to my senses. Thank you. He laughed a moment, maybe this is a good thing, this accident, and it proves to me and Marty what I can do. I will prove to her that I am a better than ever was or could have dreamt to be before the accident. I am the new, improved Clark Rhet Davis.
A/N Ok, so this is not my best work, but I just had to get it on here before I forgot it. Please review if you read it, good feedback, and bad feedback, all is welcome! Good makes me want to keep writing and tells me I'm doing a good job. Negative helps me to become a better writer!
