Ten Seconds

Trigger warning: child death

Ten Seconds

Susan W. Hudson

Ten seconds. Ten measly, lousy, minuscule, tiny seconds can change a family’s lives forever. 

Stacy had volunteered to mind the nursery one night during Pleasant Grove Church’s summer revival. Her only charge was her two-year-old son who was not quite ready to sit quietly through a raucous, heated revival sermon. It was the third night of the revival in the very hot August of 1972. Stacy was in a vehemently religious stage of her life, so she felt obligated to be there every night. Had she known no other babies would show up, she would probably have stayed home with her son.

She was wary as she answered the call on the clunky black telephone. Calls to the church had been directed to the nursery phone because, during a service, there was almost always someone there to answer. On the line was a stoic, official-sounding voice asking for Mr. or Mrs. Mabry. Their grandson had been involved in an accident, and they needed to have them come to the hospital as soon as possible.

Stacy picked up her son and made her way outside from the nursery and up the huge concrete steps to the front door of the church. She entered the back of the lovely welcoming sanctuary, looked around at the scant congregation, and found Mr. and Mr. Mabry near the back. The visiting preacher was delivering a “fire and brimstone” sermon. All the devout Christians were entranced.

Stacy took a deep breath and silently walked down the aisle and tapped Mr. Mabry on the shoulder. Her son was remarkably quiet; he knew something was wrong.

Stacy motioned for the couple to come with her. They complied, and, with tears dripping down her cheeks, she relayed the dreadful message to them. “Charlie has been involved in an accident. They want you to go to the hospital.” “What did they say?” Mr. Mabry asked. Stacy tried to think. “I’m not sure. Something about the pond in James and Susie’s back yard. A possible drowning.” They all prayed that it was not true. The Mabry's sped off to the hospital. There was only one hospital in their small town, so they knew exactly where to go. 

Stacy returned to the church nursery and waited. She waited for her husband who was in the congregation but did not notice her stealth walk down the aisle to alert Mr. and Mrs. Mabry. He was sitting near the front, dozing. He didn’t know anything about her and noticed her only at bedtime. She was pretty nearly fed up with him.

 When he came to the nursery to fetch her and their son, she hysterically blurted out the grim story. “Charlie might have drowned. We should go home and wait for them to call,” she sputtered.

They drove home, settled their son in for the night, and looked at the phone.  Stacy waited to hear from her dear friend. Finally, the phone rang. “Yes, it’s true. Can you come over?” Susie asked. “Of course,” Stacy replied. 

When Stacy arrived at Susie’s house, she found her friend sitting on the sofa in a trance. “Ten seconds. I only turned my back for ten seconds,” Susie wailed. Stacy’s heart melted.

Stacy and Susie had been best friends since first grade. They graduated high school together. They lived about 10 miles apart, so they didn’t get to see each other often outside school. When they were teenagers, they often had sleepovers at one home or the other. They married about a year or two apart. They were each other’s Maid of Honor. Coincidentally, their new families lived close to each other; they remained close and visited often.

Stacy sat on the sofa and held Susie’s hand as she blurted out, “We were arguing, again, on the way home from the grocery store. No matter how hard I try, I cannot remember why. Maybe it was about his promise to put a fence around that pond he had dug in the backyard - probably.”

When they stopped in the driveway, James, Jr. jumped out of the car and followed his dad into his woodworking shop. Susie thought she saw little Charlie follow them; he always wanted to hang out with them. She grabbed the groceries and headed inside. Ten seconds, ten seconds later she didn’t see Charlie. She ran out to the workshop, looking for him. James said, “He went with you.” She said, “No, he went with you.”  

They took James, Jr. and headed out on a search of the property. James found him, floating face down in the pond. He was just inches in, but he was too little to know how to get himself out of the murky water.

James screamed; Susie screamed. James, who was a former Marine, pulled him out and started the resuscitation methods he had learned. James screamed at Susie, “You know I can save him, right?” She could only cry. 

James could not get a breath out of Charlie. He screamed again and ran away. When he wore himself out, he came back to find the rescue vehicle depositing his 18-month-old baby boy into their vehicle. The paramedic shook his head and said, “Sir, I am so very sorry for your loss. Would you, your wife, and son please get in? We have to go to the hospital to get a death certificate” They arrived at the hospital just as Mr. and Mr. Mabry did. There was a slew of doctors and nurses awaiting them in the emergency room.

“Time of death: 7:30 p.m. Cause of death: affixation due to drowning,” the physician declared. Stacy listened to Susie tell this story until they were both exhausted. Stacy took Susie into her bedroom and settled her in, perchance to sleep. Stacy promised her she would come back early in the morning.

The next morning, Stacy entrusted the care of her son to his father. Though he had his shortcomings, he loved that boy. Stacy had to be there for her friend.

When Stacy arrived at James and Susie’s home mid-morning, the funeral home had already delivered the casket tenderly holding their beautiful baby boy. Susie hugged her so hard she nearly lost her breath. She took her to the little casket in their den. “Look at his beautiful hair,” Susie cried as she twirled his curls in her fingers. 

“We are going to bury him up on the hill on our property. I dressed him in a long-sleeved shirt and long pants so he won’t get cold.” Stacy just nodded. She thought, “How in the world can I console this grieving mother?”

Stacy stayed all day and greeted the myriad mourners who filtered through the house.

The next day, Stacy headed up the solemn crowd, holding Susie tight. She watched them crank the casket down into the ground. As she told her friend, “He’s in the arms of the angels,” Stacy wondered if she would ever be able to reignite her flailing faith and regain the strength to hold her marriage together and raise her son to be humane.