The Breakthrough by Jerry B. Jenkins

blessed is the one whom God reproves;
    therefore despise not the discipline of the Almighty.
    For he wounds, but he binds up;
    he shatters, but his hands heal.
    He will deliver you from six troubles;
    in seven no evil shall touch you.
    Well, that made a little more sense, but just then it didn’t offer more comfort, and Boone knew it was a passage that would take a long time to digest. “Despise not the discipline of the Almighty”? What was he being disciplined for?
    Right now all he wanted was for Francisco to return with anything but bad news.
    “Well, now that’s somethin’,” Florence said, squinting as she studied her plastic pill box. “Looks like I did take my pills this morning. I hate getting old. Don’t you, Willie?”
    “I quit getting old years ago, Miz Quigley. I’m what you call levitatin’.”
    She shook her head. “Now where are those boys?”
    “I ’spect they’ll be along directly,” he said. “You feeling at all better?”
    “Getting there.”
    “You want to try to get yourself upstairs?”
    “No. I’ll wait for ’em here. Least they can do is walk me up after what they put me through.”

11
News
    Francisco Sosa must have seen the fear in Boone’s eyes, as he quickly disabused him of the notion of dreaded news. “Just the church wondering why I was ignoring my cell phone,” he said. “I told ’em no more calls until they heard from me.”
    Boone let out a huge breath.
    “You okay?” Sosa said. “I mean, considering?”
    Boone nodded. “Trying to talk myself out of ‘despising discipline.’”
    “Not easy, is it? Just remember the beauty of the next four lines.”
    “Yeah, well, we’ll see.”
    “And remember, if it turns out you are being reproved, you’re also blessed.”
    “Sorry, not feeling it right now. Just hanging on.”
    Florence may not have been educated, but she was anything but stupid. Something wasn’t right. Too much time had passed. She searched her mind. It would be just like Max to beg for a longer ride, and from what little she knew of his uncle, it might be like him to give in. Maybe he had tried to call her and let her know, but did he even have her number?
    “Willie, can I ask one more favor?”
    “I done told you, Miz Quigley, I’m just here to serve.”
    “My cell phone’s on the couch up there, and—”
    “Say no more. I saw it and shoulda thought to bring it down.”
    Murari Sarangan arrived with his surgical cap and mask in his hand, and Boone leapt to his feet, frantically searching the doctor’s face. The doctor looked him in the eye—which was encouraging, and while he wasn’t smiling, he didn’t appear defeated either.
    “She’s not out of the woods yet, Boone, but we do not believe we’re going to lose her.”
    Boone dropped to his knees, and Francisco and Dr. Sarangan had to help him to the couch. He shook his head, nearly unable to speak. “Thank you,” he managed.
    Sarangan pulled up a chair and sat before him. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know when I say she suffered a severe injury. We’re not even certain how severe yet, but we were able to stabilize her.”
    “Is she conscious? When can I see her?”
    “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There must be much progress before she will be conscious. It could be days.”
    “Days?”
    “She’s very lucky in many ways. The specialist said that if she had fallen from any higher than her own height or had landed an inch or two to her right or left, it’s unlikely she would have survived the ride here.”
    While Boone was silently thanking God, he was also reeling. “How bad is it? Can she fully recover?”
    Again Boone hated the hesitation.
    The doctor rose, tossed his mask in the trash, tucked his cap in a pocket, and sat again. “Let me be frank, Boone. I confess that remaining professionally objective in this case is not easy for me. I forced myself to stay focused in the OR, but when Haeley was being wheeled into the recovery room, I was