Seasons Under Heaven

by Beverly LaHaye

  Joseph couldn’t work up much enthusiasm, but Brenda took them. “Look at all these games, Joseph.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Annie and Mark and Rick want to come see you as soon as it’s okay,” she said. “You think you’re up to that?”

  He nodded.

  As she looked down at the weak little boy, attached to the console with the air compressor and the monitor that ticked off his heartbeats, she wondered how she’d be able to hold off those tears threatening her eyes.

  “So how’s the fight with the school board?” Brenda asked, and Cathy could see that she needed to talk about something other than Joseph’s heart.

  “Well, it’s going. Frankly, I keep wondering if all my efforts are useless. I wonder if I should even keep trying.”

  Brenda looked startled. “You have to keep trying.”

  “Why? Nobody’s listening.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Well, I don’t, for sure. Last night I sent out this letter to the homes in the district, and I told them about a meeting I was calling this week so we could discuss the problem and how to address it with the school board. But I have a bad feeling. I’m going to feel really stupid if nobody shows up.”

  “How many letters did you send out?”

  “Thousands,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe it. If they don’t come, I guess I’ll just give up. Maybe it’s not even worth the fight.” She looked down at Joseph, whose eyes had closed again.

  “Of course it’s worth it,” Brenda said. “Cathy, look at me.”

  Cathy met Brenda’s serious eyes over the mask.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about this,” Brenda said. “School’s going to start in just a few weeks. Summer’s going to be over, and I’m going to be here with Joseph if he hasn’t gotten a heart by then. And even if he has, he’ll need a lot of care. I’ve been thinking a lot about my other children.”

  Joseph’s eyes opened again and settled on his mother, listening.

  “I don’t think I’m going be able to homeschool this year,” she said. “I’ve been struggling with whether to put my own kids in public school. We can’t afford a Christian school, and if I’m not going to be there, I don’t want them to get behind and be unsupervised all day while David works. Public school may be the only answer.”

  “I can understand that,” Cathy said. “But I know it must be hard for you. You were really committed.”

  “I’m still committed. And as soon as Joseph is better, I’ll start homeschooling again. But Cathy, for people like me, who may not have a choice, please don’t give up. Parents have a right to know what they’re teaching our kids. They have a right to approve what’s shown to them on videos, and what’s put into their hands. Now, I don’t know why you’re the one who has this calling, but I believe that God gave it to you so you could set things right. We can’t just abandon our public schools to a value system that doesn’t work.”

  “I know,” Cathy said. “I’ve told myself that.”

  “Then please don’t give up. Don’t quit. We need you.”

  Cathy breathed in a deep sigh. “Well, I guess if you can sit up here and fight this battle, I can fight that one. It’s the least I can do.”

  “It’s a lot to do. I appreciate it. And if I didn’t need to be here, I’d be at that meeting.”

  “Okay then. I’ll give it the fight of my life. For you, and for your kids. And, whether they like it or not, for my kids, too.”

  But the school board meeting was not the most pressing issue that evening when the families of Cedar Circle met at Sylvia’s house to discuss how to raise money to help Joseph. Cathy insisted that Rick, Mark, and Annie come along with her, in case there was something they could do. Annie claimed she had a date, which Cathy promptly told her to cancel. She came grudgingly, silently threatening to make the meeting miserable for Cathy. Mark whined that he had an online appointment in a chat room with his friends. Cathy told him to cancel, too. Rick was the only one who came willingly, and he lectured his sister and brother all the way about giving their mom a hard time.

  Before they went in, she threatened all of them. “Act like nice people,” she said. “For Joseph, act like you care.”

  “Right, Mom,” Annie spouted. “Like we really don’t.”

  “Shut up, Annie,” Rick said. “Just answer ‘yes ma’am.’”

  “Mom, I don’t have to put up with this. Make him leave me alone. He’s just being nice ‘cause he’s about to hit you up for money or something.”

  “Money?” Mark asked. “Will we get money if we cooperate?”

  Cathy moaned. “No, you will not get money. You will do this because you care about Joseph, and for no other reason. And so help me, if you embarrass me—any of you—I’ll make you sorry. Got it?”

  Annie did the “Heil Hitler” sign and clicked her heels together. Cathy was proud of the remarkable restraint she showed as she rang the doorbell.

  When they’d caught up on Joseph’s condition, they all sat around Sylvia’s dining-room table. “All right, I’ve got a few ideas,” Sylvia said. “First of all, I’ve put Joseph on the prayer list at my church and Brenda’s church, and I’m hoping that some of the families in those churches will pitch in and help out financially. But we’re going to need a lot more than nickels and dimes.”

  “What can we do?” Tory asked.

  “I have an idea for you, Tory,” Sylvia said. “You’re a writer. Use your writing skills.”

  “How?”

  “Letters. Write letters to every church you can get an address for. Ask for donations. Harry and I are going tomorrow to set up a trust fund for Joseph at our bank. David will be the executor. All the money that comes in will go directly into that account. You can do it, Tory. I’ve read your work. Just tell them about Joseph—appeal to the hearts and minds of parents. Tell them about the family. The money will come.”

  Tory looked uncomfortable. “Sylvia, there must be something else—”

  Sylvia leaned forward, brooking no debate. “Tory, honey, if you start that song and dance about how you’ve given up writing, I might just come across this table and throttle you.”

  Tory grinned. “Excuse me. I’ll write the letters.”

  “I have an idea, too,” Cathy said, glancing at her kids. “Actually, it was Rick’s idea.”

  “Good,” Sylvia said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Rick spoke up. “See, we were thinking we could have, like, an animal fair. We could like give pony rides and stuff, and Mom could do heartworm checks on all the pets, and Annie and Mark could bathe and dip pets, and I could take pictures of pets with their owners, ten bucks a shot, ‘cause I’m pretty good with a camera.”

  Sylvia’s eyes lit up, and she grinned at Tory and Cathy.

  Annie began to twirl her hair on a finger. “It was kind of my idea, too,” she cut in. “I thought we could have a petting zoo.”

  “Yeah,” Mark added. “We could go around and get some of Mom’s customers’ animals, and little kids could pet them. We could get baby chicks and puppies and kittens, and little sheep and some ostriches…”

  “It wouldn’t raise a lot,” Cathy said. “But it would raise some. The biggest plus, though, is that it would get the community involved, alert people to what’s needed, and maybe out of that we could get some big donations.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Sylvia said. “When do you want to have it?”

  “Well, we need time to get it organized,” Cathy said. “I was thinking maybe the Fourth of July?”

  “Sounds good. Let’s plan on it. Where can we do it?”

  “Well, that’s a problem,” Cathy said. “At first I thought maybe here, in the empty lot between Tory’s and Brenda’s houses. But I don’t think that’ll be big enough. And we need a place more in the center of things, so people will see it and stop by. If people have to go too far out of their way, they might not come.”

  “We can do it at my church,”
Sylvia said. “We have a huge plot of land next to the church, and it’s real visible.”

  “Are you sure they’d let us?” Cathy asked. “I mean, I’m not even a member, and already I’m using the fellowship hall for my meeting this week. Now I’m asking for the lawn?”

  “The church is there to meet people’s needs,” Sylvia said. “You’re doing that. Why would they object?”

  “Well, all right. We’d promise to clean up after it’s over.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “Scoop up all the poop…”

  Sylvia started to laugh. “Oh, my. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “It’ll just fertilize the grass,” Annie said.

  “We can live with it,” Sylvia said. “Meanwhile, I’ll go around to as many big businesses in the area as I can and talk to their executives. See if some of them want to give a donation as a tax write-off.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Tory whispered.

  “All right, then we each have a task to start with,” she said. “We need to get busy.”

  “One other thing,” Tory said. “Let’s talk about what we can do to help them out with the rest of their needs. We could ask Brenda’s church to bring food and stuff, so David won’t have to cook for the kids. The rest of us could fill in on the nights when no one’s doing it.”

  “Great. Could you organize it?”

  “Sure,” Tory said. “Also, I was thinking I could take the Dodd kids to church with me Sunday. That’s real important to Brenda, but since none of us go to their church, I thought at least they could go with us.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’m sure Brenda will take you up on it, especially since David won’t take them.”

  Cathy spoke up. “Rick and Mark will be taking care of the Dodds’ yard. David doesn’t need that to worry about.”

  Mark rolled his eyes, but Rick nodded agreement.

  “And Barry offered to do any home repairs they need. I don’t think they need any right now, though.”

  “What else is there to do?” Cathy asked.

  “There is one other thing.” Sylvia closed the folder with her notes, then looked around the table from one person to the next. “You could become organ donors.”

  “Organ donors?” Mark asked. “What’s that?”

  Cathy touched her son’s shoulder. “It’s where you sign a card saying that, if you die, they can give your organs to someone like Joseph.”

  “Gross!” Annie said. “Why would anybody do that?”

  “To save somebody’s life,” Sylvia said. “Why do you think that’s gross, Annie?”

  “Because…” She looked from Sylvia to her mom. “They wouldn’t even try to save you. If somebody needed your kidney or something…”

  “No, that’s not true,” Sylvia cut in firmly. “The medical team that would work on you after an accident would have nothing to do with transplants. But if you die, then they consult your family about organ donation. The transplant team isn’t even contacted until the family consents.”

  “I still wouldn’t do it,” Annie said.

  Sylvia sighed. “What if your mother needed a liver, Annie? If she was dying, and a transplant was the only thing that could save her? Would you see it differently then?”

  Annie got quiet. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not trying to talk you into anything,” Sylvia said. “But Joseph will die if he doesn’t get a heart. Every day, nine people like Joseph die, waiting for organs.”

  Silence hung over the room. Finally, Tory spoke up. “Barry and I talked about it when we first got married, and decided not to sign up. We thought it would be too hard on the one left behind. But I’ve never known anyone who needed an organ. If it was Britty or Spencer who needed one…” Her voice broke, and she shifted in her seat. “What do I do? Just sign the back of my driver’s license?”

  “That, or fill out a donor card and keep it with you all the time. But that’s just a formality. It’s your family that has to consent when the time comes. You have to let them know you want to be a donor.”

  Cathy pulled out her driver’s license and flashed the back of the card. “I’ve already done it. See that, kids? That means that—if you’re adults when I buy the farm—you sign the consent before you throw me in the tar pit.”

  Annie and Mark didn’t find that amusing. Rick pulled out his own wallet and removed his license. “I’ll do it, too, Mom.”

  “I’m proud of you.” Cathy tried to swallow back the emotion in her voice. “Sylvia, let’s offer donor cards at our animal fair, so people can sign up. Once we make people aware, they need to have a way to follow through.”

  Sylvia jotted that down. “Great idea. I think we’re off to a good start.” She looked around at Cathy and Tory, at Mark and Rick and Annie. “I sure appreciate everyone’s help. It’s especially nice to see how the kids are willing to help.”

  Cathy’s three kids looked uncomfortably at each other, and Annie covered her mouth with her hand to suppress her amused grin.

  “I tell you what,” Sylvia said. “While we’re all here, let’s pray for Joseph.”

  “Um…I gotta go,” Annie said. “I have, like, a date.”

  Cathy shot her a look.

  “Me, too,” Mark said. “Some people are waiting for me online.”

  “They can wait,” Cathy said. “Bow your heads.”

  Huffing with resentment, the kids bowed their heads, and Sylvia began to pray. Listening to her, Cathy realized that there must be more to this prayer thing than she had thought. Some people, like Sylvia, talked to God as if He were a good friend, someone standing right in the room with them. It was an alien concept to Cathy. But now she tried to believe it as her friend and mentor appealed to God for Joseph’s sake.

  That night, after a talk with Barry about organ donation, Tory had trouble sleeping. She got up, went to the laundry room, and turned on the computer. She hadn’t touched it since the day she’d seen the book in the library that was so much like hers, and now she fought the feeling of defeat and failure that spiraled inside her as the computer booted up and the cursor began to flicker.

  There was something more important than her own goals, she reminded herself. Joseph’s life was at stake, and there were people who thought she had the skill to do something about it.

  She thought about what to write in her appeal to the local churches, and as her fingers began to type, she found that it was liberating to not worry about publication or fame and fortune. Tory simply began to tell the story of the little boy whose heart was failing. The little boy who needed a heart transplant and couldn’t afford it. The little boy whose family was willing to do whatever was necessary to get him the help he needed. And she told them how much that family needed the financial help of anyone willing.

  She finished drafting the letter at three o’clock in the morning. She printed out a hundred copies for starters, and decided to address the envelopes tomorrow.

  By the time she crawled back into bed, she felt the thrill of accomplishment, the peace of knowing she’d done something no one else on their street could have done. She fell into a deep sleep next to her husband, knowing that dawn would come too soon. Her brain would be weary tomorrow, and she would move slowly, but that was all right. The knowledge that those letters were on their way to people who could help would give her all the energy she needed.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Eight

  By Thursday night, Cathy had convinced herself that Sylvia’s church fellowship hall would be packed with parents who’d gotten her letter and were concerned about their children’s education. She had even made copies of Tory’s letter about Joseph, planning to pass them out.

  She got to the church thirty minutes early and tried to organize her thoughts and her notes. At quarter till, no early birds had straggled in. At five till, she looked at her watch and began to panic.

  At seven, two women came to the door. “Excuse me…where is the meeting about the public schools being held?”

&
nbsp; “Right here,” she said, too exuberantly. “Come in.”

  They stepped into the room and looked nervously around. “Where is everybody?”

  “I’m afraid you’re the first two here.”

  “Really? No one else came?”

  She hated to admit it. “Well, I haven’t given up yet. You know people. You tell them seven and they show up at seven-fifteen. And of course, since it’s a Baptist church, they figure we’ll be having food and fellowship for a while before we get down to business. We have to allow for that.” Instantly, she wondered if she’d offended them, and decided to amend that statement. “Of course, I’m sure other denominations eat a lot, too. Not too much, but…you know…”

  The two women nodded skeptically and looked as if they might escape through the bathroom window. An awkward silence fell over the room as they took two seats, and Cathy pretended to be busy organizing her handouts. After a moment, she heard footsteps and looked up to see a pleasant-looking man. “Hey, I’m Cathy Flaherty,” she said, her voice echoing in the near-empty room. “Are you looking for the meeting about the schools?”

  “That’s right,” he said, hesitating at the door. “Am I in the right place?”

  “This is it,” she said.

  He crossed the room and shook her hand. “Steve Bennett,” he said. “I got your letter, and I was pretty outraged. I didn’t know if I should come because I only have one child and she’s just in elementary school. But I figure in a few years she’ll be in those classes.”

  “Everybody is welcome,” she said. “Even people who don’t have kids. We’re all paying taxes for those schools. Will her mother be coming?”

  He shook his head as he took a seat in the front row. His face reddened slightly. “My wife died. I’ve been raising Tracy alone for the last three years.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She could have kicked herself, for she could see from the look on his face that he wasn’t quite over it. “Well, I’m really glad you came. I was hoping we wouldn’t just have mothers here.” She glanced at the two women. “Not that there’s anything wrong with mothers. I’m one, myself. I just meant…”