“Stay with us, Menno,” she whispered, clutching his hand even harder. “Don’t leave us.”
Julia saw Sadie lean close to Menno, matching her breathing to his shallow breathing on the monitor. “What is it?”
Sadie shook her head, a minuscule movement. She turned her head slightly, then her shoulders dropped. With tear-filled eyes, she turned to Julia. “He’s gone. He was here a moment ago, but now he’s gone. He waited until we were all together. He’s left us.”
The doctor seemed puzzled and examined the monitors. “Nothing’s changed.”
Julia and her father exchanged a look. Sadie knew.
Julia had to get some fresh air. She told Fern she would be back soon, and went out into the hallway. There was a small garden area for families and patients to sit in, so she followed the arrows leading to it and went out into the dark night air. She lifted her face toward the stars.
So many thoughts in an instant, overlapping, colliding thoughts, thoughts without words.
She sat quietly for several minutes. She was too stunned to cry. She had lost more than her brother, she had lost part of herself. She couldn’t remember a time when Menno wasn’t there. She rubbed her temples. What are we to do, Lord? She didn’t even know how to pray for Menno, for all of them. Words seemed inadequate for the pain that seared through her. A deep groan poured out of her soul, a wordless prayer. Was this what the Bible meant when it said that the Holy Spirit prayed for us?
She didn’t know how long she had been out there, looking at the stars, praying for Menno, when she heard a familiar voice gently call her name. She looked up and blinked. Was she dreaming?
“Rome!” She flew out of the chair and across the small space. “Thank God! Thank God you’re here.”
He hauled her up against his chest and held her so tight she couldn’t breathe. Her fists gripped the cloth of his jacket and she burrowed into him, rubbing her face against his chest. With that, the tears broke loose and she sobbed into his chest. She tried to tell him what had happened to Menno, but he shushed her.
“I’ve already been to the room. I heard all about the accident.”
“How did you know? Who told you?”
“I was heading out to Windmill Farm tonight to ask Fern . . . never mind . . . long story . . . I’ll explain later. When I passed by the Fishers’, Jimmy told me what had happened. I came as soon as I could.”
Julia wiped her tears off of her face. “The doctor said we need to take Menno off the ventilator. He said Menno’s brain is . . . he said that there’s no sign of brain activity.”
Rome led her to the garden bench where she was sitting when he came in. He sat down beside her. “Julia, there’s something you need to consider. As awful a situation as this is, something good might come out of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
He took her hands in his. “Menno’s heart. It’s meant for your father.”
Julia felt a brutal slap out of nowhere. She pulled her hands away, but he wouldn’t let them go. “You’re saying . . . that Menno’s heart be given to my father?” Her voice shook.
“Yes.” He waited a moment before continuing, letting her absorb that thought. “Think about it, Julia. If Menno were here, he would want you to consider this. I know he would. But he’s not here, and I need to do this for him. The heart may not even be a match. I’m not even sure what the protocol is about organ donation, but we need to try. You need to convince your father to try.”
Her face scrunched up again and the tears resumed.
More urgently, he said, “We should do what Menno wanted.”
She was squeezing his hands now, hard, so hard, but she couldn’t help it. She was a bundle of nerves. “I can’t make that kind of decision for him. I don’t know what he would want.”
“Yes, you do. Do you remember, a few weeks ago, when we were in your father’s room and he told Menno and Sadie and M.K. that he was dying? Do you remember what Menno asked? He asked him if a person had two hearts, like two kidneys. He said he would give Amos his heart if he could. He said those very words.”
Her grip relaxed. “I remember. He did say that.” Her hands slipped into her lap.
Rome stood. “I’ll be right with you when you talk to Amos. But it needs to come from you. He’ll listen to you, Julia.” He held his hand out to her.
She looked at his hand for a long moment, then put her hand in his.
Rome watched Amos listen carefully to Julia, and to him, but he could see it was Uncle Hank who made the difference.
Hank put his hand on Amos’s shoulder and said, “That boy’s life was a gift from start to finish. This is his final gift to you, Amos. You would be wrong not to receive it graciously.”
Amos looked at Hank with searching eyes. Hank loved Menno like he was his own. In a way, he knew Menno better than any of them. They spent hours together, hunting and fishing and talking.
“Our Menno would want this, Amos,” Hank said. “More than that, he would delight in this coincidence.” He held up his finger. “No, he would correct me. He would say that what man calls coincidences, God would call a miracle.”
Amos quietly said he needed some time alone with Menno.
Rome saw Julia cross the room and sit next to Uncle Hank. She put her hand over his, and he clasped hers tightly. They remained that way until Amos returned from Menno’s room, about ten minutes later. He told Rome to go find that heart doctor, Dr. Highland, the one who looked like he was ten. He didn’t need to tell Rome twice.
As Rome hurried through the halls, he felt an awe at God’s perfect timing. God was always in the business of redeeming, Fern had told him once, if only we let him. He prayed in the elevators, prayed in the hallways, prayed as he waited for the doctor to be paged. Lord, let this be a match. And then let them agree to give the heart to Amos. Don’t let Menno’s death be in vain.
Dr. Lee took Julia aside to ask if the family would consider allowing other organs for donation. “I realize you have a great deal to cope with right now, but there is a question I need to ask. Would you be willing to let Menno’s other organs help save other people?”
They wanted more of Menno? Julia felt a wave of nausea. How could she possibly make such a decision, at this moment in time?
“Julia, your brother can give the gift of life to someone else with his heart, lungs, liver, kidneys. His corneas will help someone see and his skin will heal burns. Medical science has learned of ways to use so much healthy tissue. But, of course, Menno is not of age, so we would need your father’s permission. Would you speak to him?”
She didn’t answer right away. “Give me some time.”
“Of course. But, the longer Menno remains on the machines, the fewer organs we can use.”
She got up and slowly walked out of the room, down the hall to Menno’s room. She passed the garden where she had talked with Rome, and felt a pull toward it. Dear Lord, she prayed, I can’t even imagine life without Menno. And now my father has a chance to live. I don’t know what you have planned for my father. I want to believe you will send us a miracle, but if you can’t, I know that you will take him home to be with you in heaven . . . the ultimate healing. Whatever you decide, Lord, thy will be done. I only ask that you give me strength to help me through.
As soon as she finished praying, the word trust popped into her mind, the way it had just a few days ago, when she prayed about Rome. Was it just a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime. But maybe that’s why God gave her that unique experience. To fortify her for what was coming.
Trust.
A quiet peace stole over her soul, replacing the heavy garment of fear she was wearing. She could feel the tension in her shoulders release and the tightness in her chest from constant worry begin to dissipate. She took a deep breath and looked up at the diamond-studded sky. Was Menno looking down on them now?
She went back down the hall and into Menno’s room. Fern and Sadie looked up when she came into the room. M.K. was curled up
in a chair, asleep. Amos was stroking Menno’s hair. Uncle Hank sat in a chair, head in his hands. Rome was at the window, leaning his back against the sill.
“The doctor wants us to think about donating Menno’s other organs,” Julia said. “Not just his heart. His lungs, his liver, his kidneys. Even his corneas and skin.” She looked down at her clasped hands and swallowed hard. When she spoke, her voice was raw with emotion. “I think we should say yes. I think Menno would have said yes. He’s with the Lord. He doesn’t need his earthly shell any longer.”
Rome’s eyes caught hers, his expression tender, sad, amazed.
Sadie went over to her father and put a hand on his shoulder. “I think Julia’s right. I know she is. Menno would have wanted to give anything he could to help someone else.”
“Dad?” Julia asked. “It’s really your decision.”
Amos gave a brief nod.
The door opened and Dr. Highland, Amos’s cardiologist, walked in. “The team is waiting to check the viability of Menno’s heart. It’ll take a few hours. The transplant coordinator has asked the Organ Procurement and Transplantation Network to review factors to distribute the heart to Amos. So far, the blood type is a match, your weight and size fit within the parameters. The chance of rejection is greatly reduced when the organ donor is a family member. And your heart is in such bad shape that you’re high on the transplant list. This looks good, Amos. This looks like it might be the heart that is meant for you. If the OPTN gives us its blessing, you’ll be transferred to Hershey Medical by ambulance.” He looked over at Menno. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
One by one, each family member gave Menno a kiss and told them they loved him. Then it was time. The doctors and nurses surrounded Menno as they prepared to turn off the ventilator. The family stood against the wall. The machine blew out its last wheezing breath, and the doctor looked at the clock to record the time of death. In a deep voice, stronger than it had been in months, Amos prayed aloud the Lord’s Prayer.
Menno Joseph Lapp’s time of death was officially recorded as Thursday, October 27, 11:52 p.m.
That was what the death certificate would state. But Julia, Sadie, M.K., Fern, Uncle Hank, Amos and Rome knew that Menno had been taken to be with the Lord over an hour ago, when the family first gathered around his hospital bed.
It was long after midnight. Sadie noticed Edith Fisher sitting alone in the waiting room and went over to sit by her.
Edith looked up and said, “You must think I’m a horrible person.”
Sadie made a calming gesture. “No, Edith. I don’t think you’re horrible.”
“I was home alone, and heard the dog barking. Then I heard screaming and I knew that bear was out there—she’s been helping herself to my hens on a regular basis—and the boys weren’t home so I grabbed Paul’s rifle off of his bedroom wall and I just started shooting. I couldn’t see much because of the dark, Sadie. I didn’t know that Menno was there. Or M.K. I thought the bear was attacking the dog. I just panicked and started shooting.” Edith’s eyes filled with tears. “When I found out a bullet hit Menno, I just . . . I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”
“We already do, Edith. We know it was an accident. Accidents happen.”
“I was always so fond of Menno.”
“Everybody was. Menno knew you would never mean to hurt him, Edith. It was God’s time to call him home, and God doesn’t make mistakes.”
Edith’s head bounced up. “Julia will never forgive me. Never.”
“She will. She will forgive you, because she’s Julia.” Sadie had no doubt of that.
“What will Paul say?” She rocked herself back and forth in abject misery.
“Paul loves you. No one is blaming you for an accident.”
Edith started sobbing again.
“Would you like me to get you something? A cup of tea? A glass of water?”
“Would you. . . . just sit with me for a minute?”
“Everything is going to be okay,” Sadie said. She felt Edith relax, as if she believed her.
Other than that first meeting in the hospital garden, Rome hadn’t had a minute alone with Julia. She was constantly being taken aside by nurses or doctors or hospital workers who needed papers signed. So much paperwork.
The bishop and the deacon arrived at the hospital to offer support and prayers. Menno’s funeral needed to be planned in the midst of all of this. Rome was so proud of Julia—she was handling the pressure with calm and poise. Her twenty-one-year-old face looked middle-aged and careworn. This long evening of profound decision making had exhausted her. He didn’t know how she was holding up, hurting from the loss of her brother and frightened for her father. An hour ago, they received word that the OPTN agreed to the transplant. They had looked at several factors: blood and tissues were ideal matches to reduce risk of rejection, the weakened condition of Amos’s heart and the length of time he had been on the transplant list, as well as the geographical convenience of the donor heart. It was a go, the doctor said. There was no turning back for Amos. This was it. They were all aware of that. Amos’s last words to all of them, as he was being wheeled away by the nurse to prepare for the trip to Hershey, were: “I will have joy in the morning.” Either way, he meant.
As Rome watched Julia down by the nurse’s station, an unexpected wave of longing was triggered. Into his gut came that restless feeling of searching, of wanting. Something unthinkable pulled at the edges of his brain. He tried to push it away, but it only gathered strength. What if Julia had been right? He was letting fear dictate the course of his life. These last few days had given him time to think, to sift through the rubbish in his life that was shackling him.
In that moment, watching Julia, he understood what he needed to do. Maybe it would work, and maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would take heartbreak to a whole new level.
21
Amos’s operation began well before dawn on Friday morning.
Julia had accompanied her father in the ambulance to Hershey Medical. Fern and Edith took M.K. home. Uncle Hank, Sadie, and Rome hired a taxi to go from Lancaster General to Hershey, about thirty minutes away, to keep vigil with Julia in the waiting room . . . waiting.
She glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes and it would be seven hours. Sadie had fallen asleep, curled up on two chairs, with her head in Julia’s lap. Uncle Hank paced up and down the halls. Rome sat quietly, across from Julia, hands clasped, head down, his lips silently moving. She knew he was praying and the sight touched her.
At the sound of footsteps, Julia glanced up the hall. When she saw the surgeon who performed the transplant with his face mask hanging around his neck, she rose to her feet and practically dumped Sadie on the floor.
The doctor smiled at her. “I have good news for you. That new heart is beating away like it belonged there.” The surgeon’s smile looked as tired as she felt. “Amos is in recovery. He’ll be heavily sedated for the next day or so, depending on how he responds.”
Julia ignored the tears trickling down her cheeks and smiled away. And kept on smiling. She sniffed and nodded. “Thank you.” Her father had a new heart. A new life.
Sadie squeezed her hand, sharing the thought. Uncle Hank patted Rome so hard on his back that he almost lost his footing, and they all laughed, a mixture of relief and joy.
“A word of warning,” the doctor said as he took Julia aside. “Now we fight the rejection battle.”
This warning, sobering though it was, had not succeeded in dampening Julia’s pleasure at the operation’s success. She had seized upon the positive words the doctor had uttered: there should be no reason why there should be any complications. There was much to be relieved about.
And there was much to grieve about.
The next day, Julia was allowed into her father’s hospital room. Already, she could see signs of returning health. The blue tinge was gone from around Amos’s mouth and eyes, even his fingernails were a healthy pink. When Julia took his hand, the
warmth of it sent spirals of joy dancing up her arm and lodging in her heart. She had seen him for just a moment when he was getting wheeled from recovery to his room and was startled by how cold his hand was. The nurse explained that his body had been chilled down for surgery and it would take several hours to warm up again. Last night, he had been heavily sedated, but today, when she squeezed his hand, she received a squeeze in return. His eyes fluttered open and a slight smile moved the corners of his mouth.
He tried to speak but couldn’t because of the tubes running down his throat to allow the ventilator to breathe for him. The surgeon gave him a pad of paper and pen to communicate. Julia hung there, waiting for her father’s first words.
Slowly and carefully, with the doctor’s help, he scrawled, “When can I go home?”
Julia laughed for pure joy until she wanted to cry. It was a miracle. She could see the vein in her father’s neck pulsing. Deep in his chest, Menno’s heart was pounding a steady beat.
“All depends on how well you do, Amos,” the doctor said. “Minimum stay is usually a week.”
Julia was surprised. “That’s all?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? But he was in fairly good shape when he arrived—a lot of folks waiting for transplants are knocking at death’s door, and your father had been trying to stay in shape.”
Fern! Julia breathed a prayer of thanks for that bossy, wonderful woman, sweeping into their lives so unexpectedly. So profoundly.
The Keeper Page 24