by Alana Terry
Unless he came while I was wrapped up in the arms of a doctor I hardly know. But I don’t want to think about that right now.
Jake clears his throat. I can tell he’s about to die of embarrassment, and he says, “I talked with your friend. That doctor guy.”
Ok, now I’m nervous. I didn’t think he’d come to confront me about Eliot. I try to offer some sort of apology, but he cuts me short.
“Hear me out first. I got his name off his badge, called around until I figured out where he worked. Stopped by to talk to him.”
I’m surprised my eyes haven’t bugged out of my head by now. Jake actually confronted Eliot at his office?
“He said exactly what you did, that you guys knew each other back in Massachusetts, that you were having a real hard day, and that he was just there as a friend trying to comfort you.”
My face burns as I recall the soft feel of the skin on Eliot’s smooth jawline. I can’t think about that now. Instead, I look at Jake and nod.
“Anyway, he apologized, said he should have acted more professional. He’s a decent guy.”
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to agree with Jake or not. Is this a trap?
He’s staring off past my shoulder. What is he looking at? There’s nothing over there but a wall. “We got to talking. I told him we were thinking of moving to Seattle so Natalie could be closer to the hospital.”
My heart still doesn’t know if it’s supposed to keep racing or stop entirely. Is this how Grandma Lucy felt when her health was failing at County Hospital?
Jake clears his throat again. It sounds gross. I hope it’s not a new habit he’s developing. “So, Dr. Jamison said he knows a guy. This radiologist he works with. Says he’s got a home just three blocks from the Ronald McDonald House. I guess he lives in some ritzy suburb but keeps a little apartment local for when he works late. Anyway, he’s on vacation for the next two months. Poor guy’s off to some tropical island. But that means his apartment’s totally empty, and he’s looking for someone to stay there and water his plants. Keep an eye on things.” He clears his throat once more, quieter this time. “Rent free.”
I feel like I’m supposed to react a certain way. Half of my brain is telling me to jump up and down and scream like those singers who make fools of themselves on those TV talent shows. The other half of my brain is completely paralyzed while it tries to figure out why Jake looks so depressed. It’s like having someone tell you that there’s a million-dollar settlement check coming for you in the mail, but by the expression on his face you’d think he was saying your grandma just died.
“That would be cool,” I offer tentatively.
“Yeah.” Jake licks his lips. I still can’t figure out what’s so interesting about that wall he’s been staring at.
“So ...” I begin, hoping he’ll catch on and give me a little more information.
He pries his eyes away from the off-colored white and lets them glance over me for just a second. “So, I was wondering if ...” He clears his throat again. This is going to be hard to get used to. “I wanted to talk to you about ...” He glances again at Natalie in her crib. I swear he looks like he’s got a hundred nurses injecting him at once. “If Natalie gets released, I mean when she’s well enough to leave here, I wanted to know if you think we should stay there.” He swallows so hard I can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “You know. The three of us.”
His eyes stop their nervous darting and meet mine. I see fear and hopefulness and something else, too. Something I could probably name if my mind hadn’t just gone completely blank.
“Sure.” It’s not the appropriate response, but it’s the best I can conjure up. This time I’m the one to clear my throat, and I try again. “Yeah. That sounds like a pretty good plan.”
CHAPTER 86
Christmas Day. Who would have thought there would be anything good about spending a major holiday like this in the hospital?
Jake stayed with me in Natalie’s room until late last night. We went and borrowed The Muppets Christmas Carol from the peds floor library. Man, someone should have warned me about that scene where the young and handsome Scrooge breaks up with his girlfriend. I sobbed like someone had just drowned my puppy, I swear it was that bad.
It’s funny because last Christmas Jake and I hadn’t even started officially dating yet, but we got together with a few other people from work and all watched Die Hard together. Die Hard. I mean, I guess you could call it a Christmas movie if you really wanted to, but it’s not the kind of flick you could borrow from the little old ladies who volunteer on the pediatric floor. Now Jake and I are a year older, but our taste in entertainment is on the same level as a seven-year-old’s.
Oh, well. The movie was cute, and even though that one song made me blubber like an idiot, I felt happy when the whole thing was over. Maybe there really are things to be thankful for.
Like tiny little puppets that reenact Christmas stories and make you laugh.
Jake went back to the Ronald McDonald house just before midnight. He’s actually been staying there the whole time. He never went back to Orchard Grove after our fight. I feel kind of lousy that I didn’t try to get in touch with him sooner, but that would have been hard without a phone charger.
I slept pretty well last night. I must have, because I didn’t even wake up when someone sneaked in and left about a dozen wrapped presents by Natalie’s crib. We haven’t opened them yet. Jake said we’ll do that with her after they take her off the ventilator, which might even happen this afternoon if she keeps on holding her vitals steady.
Christmas miracles, right?
So now we’re just waiting around, staring at all these unopened packages. At three, some volunteers at the Ronald McDonald house are doing a Christmas carol sing-along. It’s not something I’d ever dream of doing in my right mind, but Jake kind of wants to go, and I’m curious enough to at least give it a shot. If I can force myself to leave Natalie for that long. I’m still not sure, but we have a few hours before we have to decide.
I want to talk to Jake about that radiologist’s apartment, but I feel awkward bringing it up. I don’t want him to think any more about Eliot Jamison than he has to. But it would be nice to get some details. Like, does rent free really and literally mean rent free? Are we still going to have to pay for utilities and things? I know at one point Jake mentioned looking for jobs here in Seattle, but I don’t know how serious he was about that either. If we can make it until his friend pays him for the Pontiac, that can hold us over for a while. If we’ve got room and board covered, we’ve got our food stamps. And since the hospital would be close enough to walk to, we’d manage just fine, I think.
I can’t believe I don’t have to go back to that stupid trailer.
Jake and I have been watching Christmas movies all morning. Now we’re on Home Alone. I swear it’s been fifteen years since I saw it last. Before long, we’ll have to go get ourselves some food, and I imagine that could get a little depressing. I mean, who wants to eat Christmas dinner in a hospital cafeteria? But right now, the whole day has a happy, lazy feel to it. Part of me is tempted to stop the movie and tell Jake about what happened last night, about that Grandma Lucy video, but I need more time to sort through my own thoughts and feelings before I’m ready to share them with anybody else.
I’ve still got it though, that little excited flutter in my heart. I feel, I don’t know ... I feel human. Like I haven’t been myself for the past several years, but I’m finally waking up. Coming out of my coma, if you will. Seeing the world as it really is for the first time in a very long while.
Maybe it sounds cheesy. It probably does, but I don’t care. I haven’t felt this way since I was a teenager, since I was living with Sandy and still trying my best to live a good, Christian life even if I did mess up every so often. Except now I’m more mature. I’ve learned more. Gotten more experience, experience that makes me not want to take this feeling for granted again.
I’m sure life’s goin
g to have its ups and downs. I mean, my little girl still has a breathing tube shoved down her throat, so how could it not? But there’s a lightness in my spirit now. I don’t dread each minute of each day. I’m looking forward to what’s to come with new expectations. New eyes. With hope.
It might not be a huge change, in your opinion, but it’s a start.
CHAPTER 87
I ended up not going to the Christmas singalong. It sounded like it might be fun if you could get over how campy it’d be. I just couldn’t bring myself to leave Natalie for that long. Jake understood. He’s been here all day too. I guess it’s a good thing we both stuck around because the respiratory therapist and the PICU doc came in just a few minutes ago.
They’re going to extubate our daughter.
I know I said I was nervous when Jake stopped by yesterday, but that was nothing compared to this. I mean, everyone says Natalie should do just fine off the ventilator. She’s been holding her sats really well, and we haven’t seen even a hint of fever in days. Besides, if something does go wrong when they take the tube out, they can always put it right back in. Not that I hope that would happen. I’m just saying that logically, I know my daughter’s not in any real danger.
But still, I’m so nervous I’m dizzy. I mean, the room is literally spinning around me. I’m holding Jake’s arm. He probably thinks I’m being romantic, but I seriously have to cling to him just to keep from falling. I can’t watch when the tube comes out. Even when I turn away, I feel my own throat closing up just at the thought of what my daughter is experiencing.
And then I hear it.
At first, I think someone’s let a cat into the hospital room. I have no clue why. I mean, I’ve heard of therapy dogs, but who in their right mind would ever think of trying to train a therapy cat?
Except it’s not a cat. It’s my daughter who’s making that sound. I make myself a promise that I will never, ever complain about listening to my daughter cry.
It takes the nurses and tech another minute or two before they’ve got Natalie completely free and untangled, and that whole time she’s letting out this faint little bleating protest, no louder than a newborn kitten.
It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
I glance over at Jake, my heart swelling. He doesn’t look at me. I don’t think he even notices me standing next to him, doesn’t realize he has a tear streaming down his cheek. He looks perfectly awestruck, as if our daughter just recited the Greek alphabet or something like that.
“Do you want to hold her?” the nurse asks. At first, I’m so focused on Jake I think she must be talking to him, except she’s looking straight at me.
“Um, is it safe? She’s ...”
“She’s doing great.” The nurse tilts her head toward the monitor. My daughter’s breathing on her own, and her oxygen levels are at a safe and stable 95%. The nurse holds my crying baby out to me. What can I do but take her in my arms?
Jake wraps me in a half hug. I’m so overwhelmed I have to sit down. Thankfully, there’s a chair to lower myself into. I don’t know if it was waiting for me all along or if Jake or one of the nurses positioned it there right in time.
Jake sinks down next to me. He’s on his knees, his forehead pressed against our daughter’s, his tears leaking down his cheeks. She lets out one more feeble wail and then stops. My heart’s too full from the sound of her first cries that I don’t believe what I’m seeing.
“Look at that,” Jake breathes in amazement. “Look what she’s doing.”
I bite my lip. It can’t be true. It’s too much all at once. Too much happiness. Too much joy. Too much, too fast. It’s more than I can bear.
Jake nudges me with his elbow, apparently dissatisfied with my lack of response. “Don’t you see it?”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. I’m so scared when I open them again, it will all be gone. Except it’s not. My daughter is still here, awake and fully alert in my arms. I’m sure it’s my imagination, but I almost think there’s a hint of a smile on her face. And she’s staring right at me with those big almond eyes.
Chocolate skin and almond eyes.
So. Stinking. Gorgeous.
Next up: Before the Dawn
An Orchard Grove Christian Women’s Fiction Novel Book 2
It wasn't supposed to turn out like this.
We had a storybook romance. So why am I hiding in a shelter for battered women?
Especially since he never hit me.
The worst part is worrying about my daughter. Does she know she still has a mommy? Does she have any idea how much I love her?
And will I ever see her again?
Read it today or sample the first two chapters below.
ALSO FROM ALANA TERRY
Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Novels
Unplanned (Book 1): Kennedy’s pro-life worldview is shaken when she receives a mysterious phone call from a girl who’s far too young to be pregnant.
Paralyzed (Book 2): It’s hard to heal from the past when the past wants you dead.
Policed (Book 3): A rogue police officer can ruin a lot more than a perfect evening out.
Straightened (Book 4): Worldviews collide and body counts rise when a conservative politician finds out his son is gay.
Turbulence (Book 5): Kennedy’s arctic adventure might come to a crashing halt before it even begins.
Infected (Book 6): Isolated in a hospital lockdown during a global epidemic, Kennedy can only guess who will survive.
Abridged (Book 7): When the fight for women’s rights becomes a struggle for mere survival.
Choose a free book when you join the Alana Terry Readers’ Club!
Orchard Grove Christian Women’s Fiction
Beauty from Ashes: A baby was never part of Tiff’s plans. Especially not a sick baby struggling for life on a ventilator.
Before the Dawn: We had a storybook romance. So why am I hiding in a shelter for battered women?
North Korea Suspense Novels
The Beloved Daughter: Behind North Korea’s closed borders, a young girl is dying for freedom.
Slave Again: She traded in her prison uniform for shackles of a different kind.
Torn Asunder: Hannah’s secret mission could rip them apart and cost them both their lives.
Flower Swallow: Join Woong on his journey through flood, famine, and a shaman’s curse to freedom and redemption.
Keep scrolling to read the first two chapters of Before the Dawn, book 2 in the Orchard Grove women’s fiction series or buy it today.
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
I hope you enjoyed Tiff’s story. Beauty from Ashes is actually a major revamp of the very first novel I ever completed but never published. I began it one night when my son Silas was about nine months old and in the hospital after a birth event similar to baby Natalie’s.
I usually take this space to thank everyone who helped me get my book published, but this time I want to start by thanking God for saving my son, who we were told would be no more than a vegetable if he survived at all. (Spoiler alert: Silas is now a healthy, happy, and intelligent almost ten-year-old boy who astounds me with his humor, positive outlook, photographic memory, musical genius, and so much more.) You can read Silas’s full story in my memoir, A Boy Named Silas. I feel like this acknowledgement section would not be complete if I didn’t thank God for bringing all the doctors, therapists, and specialists into our son’s life who helped him on his miraculous road to recovery.
Grandma Lucy first appears in my novel Turbulence, one of the books in my Kennedy Stern Christian suspense series. It’s been a neat challenge and change of pace for me to write Christian women’s fiction after focusing for so long on suspense. I have to admit what when I first started writing novels, this is far closer to what I envisioned for myself.
God, you’ve carried me through so many things in my life and in the writing of this book. Thank you for not answering my prayers years ago when I wanted to publish that first NICU novel I wro
te, but thank you also for allowing Tiff, Jake, and Natalie’s story to finally come out in Beauty from Ashes.
My husband is my biggest encouragement. Amy and Elizabeth are life-saving editors (or if not life-saving, at least they save me a lot of embarrassment). A big thank you to Cathy as well for her good eye and for my friends (real and virtual) who prayed for me while I worked on this story.
I’m grateful for the chance to work with Victoria Cooper for the first time on the cover for Beauty from Ashes, and I think she did a great job. It’s the first time a cover has literally taken my breath away. Thanks also to my OB nurse friend Tara for answering a few medical questions.
If you’re interested in more novels, the Orchard Grove Christian women’s fiction books show God at work in the lives of everyday couples going through common (or not so common) struggles. My hope is to offer encouragement to readers who sometimes need a reminder that God is a God who is loving and powerful enough to “bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion — to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:1-3). You can read book 2, Before the Dawn, today, or see the sample below.
Whatever joys or trials you face today, may God’s comfort and love be close to your heart, and may your joy be full in him.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
For group discussion or personal reflection