“Charlie wants to finish his senior year, go to college, save the world,” Nora said.
Christi spoke to her lap. “Charlie thought not being an organ donor was selfish. Other than that, I think he thought…” Her voice quivered. “He thought he’d live forever. He had so many things to do, to see.” She chewed on a fingernail, something she hadn’t done for years. Not since she wanted to wear nail polish and keep her hands lovely.
“So what do you think Charlie would like us to do?” Gordon was pale, yet determined.
Stop, stop, Nora wanted to shriek again.
“I don’t think he cares one way or the other.” Christi looked at Luke. “Does it matter?”
“Only if you want a place to go to remember him.”
“Like we need a place.” She waved her hand, indicating things around the room, trophies, ornaments on the tree, Charlie’s backpack by the door, all things of his. “Oh, my gosh.” She leaped to her feet. “No one has fed his critters.” She headed for the refrigerator, where the crickets lived in a container and fruit and lettuce waited for Iggy, the iguana. “How long since Arnold was fed?”
“Charlie always marked it on the calendar.” Nora rose to go to the kitchen to check. She drew the line at buying mice or chicks at the pet store to bring home for food for Arnold. They were Charlie’s love, not hers. Three days since Arnold ate, so they had a few more days. She braced her arms on the granite countertop. I can’t do this. I can’t. The coffee on an empty stomach made her feel like throwing up. She sucked in a couple of deep breaths and slowly her head cleared. Walking back to the sofa, where the men sat, she said, “I think we should go with cremation.”
“Are you sure about this?” Luke asked gently. At her nod, he turned to Gordon. “And you?”
Gordon shrugged.
“No, that’s not good enough. You all talk it over and let me know. There’s no rush on this. I’ll look at the church calendar and see when might be a good time for the memorial service. Again, there is no rush.”
“Would it be easier if we got all this over as soon as possible?” Gordon asked, then closed his eyes as Christi and Nora speared him with disbelieving looks. “I didn’t mean… I just meant…”
Luke heaved a sigh. “There is no easier way. Grieving is different for everyone. God said He’d walk through the valley with us, but sometimes we can’t let Him do that and the valley takes more time.”
Nora snorted, but just shook her head when the men looked up at her. She cupped her elbows in her hands and rubbed, trying to get some warmth and life back into her arms.
“Are you still cold?” Gordon asked.
“Still, again, I don’t know, I can’t seem to get warm.”
“I’ll start the fire.”
“Have you eaten anything?” Luke nodded toward the kitchen. “Several of the women have sent over food. I know there are some cinnamon rolls. I could heat one up for you.”
The thought of one of Marion’s cinnamon rolls usually made her mouth water. The woman was famous for her sticky-bottomed rolls. But today it made her stomach roil. “No thanks, all I’d do is throw up.”
“Some people react that way. You need to drink lots of water, tepid is best.”
Are you a doctor now too? Nora hoped her thoughts didn’t show on her face. Where had all this negativity and the snide remarks come from? This wasn’t like her.
“Come, let’s pray before I leave.” Luke held out his hands. “There will be people asking if there is something they can do. They’ll bring food, because that’s tradition and because they want to show you that they care. I’ll send Sonja over to mind the door for you and she’ll freeze what she can and deal with the rest.” He nodded to Nora. “You don’t have to worry about being polite at this point. Let’s just get through the next few days.” As they all joined hands around the coffee table, Nora held on to both Gordon and Christi as if they, too, might be snatched away from her. She heard the words, but as from a great distance and in a foreign language. When the amen was said, she rose, stiff as an old woman with arthritis. “Thank you, Luke, for coming.” Her words sounded as wooden as she felt. With Betsy at her side, she tottered down the hallway and collapsed again on the bed, to hide once more.
Chapter Twelve
Jenna
Four hours passed, then five.
A woman in green scrubs came out to tell Jenna that while there had been some problems, which the surgeon would tell her about, the surgery was going well now. And no, she wasn’t sure how much longer it would take.
Jenna stared at the woman’s back as she walked out the doorway. So many questions, but she cut me off at the knees. The surgeon would answer. Of course she knew that, but it was different this time. The patient was her daughter.
Six hours, and still no more word.
Jenna had no more prayers to offer, no more patience. Endurance was all she had. After all, what were her choices? She couldn’t sleep. She had no one to talk to since Pastor Larson had moved to other rooms. One lady had sat by her and they made polite chitchat, but then she’d been allowed to see the one she waited for. Her relief had been palpable. Jenna tried praying for those that ebbed and flowed around her. Then she tried reading a magazine again, the newspaper someone had left, watching the television. She resorted to pacing the hallway, never out of sight of the arch where the doctors came through.
At times she wished she were a smoker, that would give her something to do with her hands. After buying a roll of Life-Savers, she sucked on one and it was too sweet. She and Arlen used to fight over the red ones. After he died, she’d not much cared for LifeSavers.
“See how well you’re waiting.” Pastor Larson sat down beside her. His voice sent a surge of reassurance.
She heaved a heavy sigh. “A nurse came out about two hours ago and said that while there had been some difficulties, they were on track and looking good.”
“No news is good news?”
“I guess so.”
“Have you eaten?”
She shook her head. “Nothing looks good in the machines, and I don’t dare go to the dining room, because they might come out and I’ll miss the report.”
“I understand. If I go get you a sandwich, will you eat it?”
She gazed at his peace-giving face. “I doubt it. But thanks for trying. Once I know, I’ll be all right.”
“Where are you staying?”
Jenna paused. That’s right, Heather would be in the CCU and they wouldn’t allow her to sleep on a chair by the bed there. She glanced around the room. One man was stretched out on one of the padded benches, but she doubted she’d sleep that way.
The pastor chuckled. “I wouldn’t recommend these accommodations. There’s a hotel right around the corner, where families of those in the hospital can stay. They would call you if there was any change and you’d be here in minutes. There’s even a covered skywalk over the street so you don’t have to worry about the weather.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s reasonable too. Good beds.”
“And plenty of hot water for long showers?”
“Plenty.”
Jenna glanced at her watch again. Five more minutes and it would be seven hours. Everyone in the room looked up at the sound of footsteps. When Jenna saw Dr. Walker, with his face mask hanging around his neck, she rose and had to take a step back to keep her balance. Then he smiled at her. She could feel the heat of Pastor Larson standing right behind her.
“Heather is one trouper, you can be proud of her.” The surgeon’s smile looked as tired as she felt. “She’s in recovery now, the heart is beating well, and her color is coming back already. Someone will come for you in a while so you can peek in on her, but she will be sedated to control the pain for the next day or so, depending on how she responds.”
Jenna ignored the tears trickling down her cheeks and smiled anyway. And kept on smiling. She sniffed and nodded. “Thank you.” All her questions blew out of her mind. Heather had a new heart
. Heather had a new life. A Christmas miracle.
“Now we fight the rejection battle.” He included the pastor with his statement. “So keep praying and we’ll win this one.”
“Thank you.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Montgomery.” The doctor shook her hand. “Bring your list of questions with you when you come back after a good night’s rest. Are you checked in to the hotel yet?”
“No, but she will be.” Pastor Larson nodded as he spoke.
“Good. Call the CCU and leave your room number.”
“Merry Christmas. From thinking this would be our last to a whole life ahead. What a Christmas.” She felt like twirling to her own music, but instead she watched him leave and kept on mopping.
“I’ll go get your sandwich now. What’s your preference?”
The decision was too much. “Surprise me, just not peanut butter and jelly.”
“I doubt they serve that. If you’re in seeing Heather, I’ll wait right here. Would you rather have tea than coffee or decaf?”
“Hot chocolate.” There, she had made a decision. Her mind was back on track.
A few minutes later, a nurse came to get her. “She is responding to stimuli, but she’s not fully conscious yet.”
The two approached where Heather lay. “You’re going to bring her all the way around before knocking her out again?” Jenna asked.
“Not all the way.”
“Good.”
Jenna forced herself into nurse mode as she stared down at her sleeping daughter. The blue tinge was gone from around her mouth and eyes, even her fingernails were a healthy pink. She took Heather’s hand and the warmth of it sent spirals of joy dancing up her arm and lodging in her heart. Merry Christmas. Oh, very Merry Christmas. Still holding her daughter’s hand, she leaned close and whispered in Heather’s ear, “Hey, sweetheart, you’re doing well.”
There was a definite squeeze on her hand and the girl’s mouth twitched into a slight smile.
“You sleep now and I’ll go next door and do the same. They’re going to keep you sedated for a day or so for the pain, but if you wake up and need me, they’ll call. And I’ll come running. Okay?” Another slight squeeze. Jenna kissed Heather’s cheek and mopped away the tear that dripped on her smooth skin. She turned to leave and saw tears in the eyes of the nurse, who was standing right behind her.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Yes, thank you. What an incredible, wonderful Christmas.”
“Leave your cell phone number at the desk and go get some sleep yourself. At the moment, she looks better than you do.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Keeping her feet on the floor took some concentration. She left her number and floated out to the waiting room.
“I don’t need to even ask, your face says it all.” He held out his arms and Jenna walked into them, only to collapse in sobs against his shoulder. When the tears slowed, she pulled away and shook her head.
“That’s what being nice to someone gets you.” She used her tissue, smiling through her tears. “A wet shoulder.”
“Not the first time, and—please God—not the last. Let’s sit here so you can drink this and take a few bites. Then I’ll show you the way over to the hotel.”
Between sips and bites, Jenna filled him in. “She has more color than she’s had for years, other than when fighting a temperature. They gave her a good, strong heart.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I keep thinking of the family that lost the one they love. This has got to be the worst Christmas of their lives.”
“They’ll be glad to hear your good news, though.”
“I’m glad we’ll be able to send them a thank-you note at least.” She drained the Styrofoam cup. “It could never replace their loss, but I want to tell them…” She couldn’t continue. “Okay, let’s go. I can chew and walk at the same time. You get used to that in the ER.”
With him carrying her two bags, she’d finished the sandwich by the time they arrived at the check-in desk. He wrote down her room number in his little notebook, reminded her to call it over to the CCU, patted her shoulder and strode back the way they’d come.
“Hey, did you know you’re sprouting wings?” she called after him.
He waved and kept on going, but she was sure she heard his chuckle.
After setting the bags down, and notifying the hospital of how to reach her, she decided to call her own hospital first thing and her mother second, then a shower. After the phone calls, she crawled under the covers and passed out.
When her bleary eyes finally opened, she stared at the bright red 7 on the clock. She’d slept through the night, but neither phone showed messages. She dialed the CCU number and rubbed her eyes while she waited for them to answer. They would be in shift change right now, not a good time to call.
“Hi, this is Jenna Montgomery and I’m calling to check on my daughter, Heather, the heart transplant from yesterday.” She caught herself. At least she’d given her daughter’s name and not just referred to her as the heart transplant. She hated that about hospital lingo, and here she’d done the same thing.
“Let me give you to her charge nurse. I just came on.”
“Thanks.” Jenna could hear the laughter and conversations of the shift change. Someone had been to a party the night before and some hunk was there.
“Hello, this is Maddie Harrison. I have good news for you. Heather slept on through the night. We were able to keep her comfortable and that new heart is beating away like it lived in her chest for years. Will you be here in time for rounds?”
“When does Dr. Walker usually come in?”
“Oh, within the hour. Since there are no surgeries scheduled for today, I’m sure he is hoping for some time off.”
Jenna realized the date. December 24. “I just woke up, so I’ll be over as soon as I can get dressed.”
“Good, glad you got some sleep. I’ll see you again this evening.”
“Thanks.”
When she was beeped into the CCU, she made her way to Heather’s cubicle and had to smile at the white teddy bear with a Santa hat that sat at the end of her bed. Picking up the bear, she held his softness against her cheek and took the three more steps to Heather’s side. “Hey, Heather sweet, I have something here for you.”
Heather’s eyes fluttered and a slight smile moved the corners of her mouth.
When Jenna took her hand, she squeezed and received one in return.
“That’s all right, you just keep resting and healing. That’s your job for now. Tomorrow they’ll probably have you sitting up. Amazing how therapies have changed.” While she talked, she studied the monitors and nodded her approval. Her daughter was indeed doing well.
“Good morning.” Dr. Walker paused in the doorway. “Now, if this isn’t what I like to see. A mom hugging a bear and a young woman with color in her cheeks.”
Jenna set the bear back on the bed. “He was waiting when I came in.”
“Ah, the elves have been at work again.” He checked Heather’s responses, wrote some notes on his pad and nodded to Jenna. “So what do you think will be her first words?”
“ ‘When can I go home?’ ”
“Not surprising. All depends on how well she does. Minimum stay is usually a week.”
“That’s all?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? But people heal better at home, and in your case, you already know how to do all the care. Others we have to train.” He glanced at her empty hands. “Did you bring questions?”
She shook her head. “Nope, fell asleep and just woke up in time to get over here. I’ll do that today.”
“We’ll keep her pretty heavily sedated today and see how she’s doing by evening. The respiration therapist will be working with her to keep the lungs clear. So far she’s handling the antirejection meds. And we wait and pray.”
“Thank you.” The words seemed so insignificant for a life, but what else could she say?
“You get some rest while you’re here. Once you’re hom
e, you’ll be plenty busy.”
“I will.” She caught herself in a yawn. “Merry Christmas.”
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned to leave and patted the bear on his way by.
Christmas Eve day. At home she would be finishing wrapping the presents and fixing the cranberry salad she always took to Dr. Avery’s house, where she and Heather had been Christmas Day guests for the last several years. Oh, my gosh, Randy. She leaned over to Heather. “I need to go call Uncle Randy. Hopefully, Grandma told him what happened. I’ll be back later.”
Cell phones could not be used in the CCU.
Her stomach growled as she walked the sky bridge back to the hotel with the phone at her ear. When Randy answered, she paused to look out the window. He whooped and hollered his delight when she told him the news.
“I suppose that means you won’t be home for Christmas.”
“I’m just glad you hadn’t left yet.”
“Mom called me with the news. I am so glad, Jenna, I can’t begin to tell you.”
“I know, me too. Let the rest of the family know and I’ll call you again.”
While the streets of Omaha were clear, the clouds wore the pregnant look of more snow. Christmas banners hung from the lampposts, and evergreen swags looped across the streets with a wreath in the middle. A gigantic lighted wreath hung above the hotel sign.
She said good-bye and flipped the phone shut. Another errand to run.
Deep red poinsettias, with white splashed petals, were grouped in various places around the hotel, and a tall spruce tree, decorated with tiny white lights, red bows and silver glass balls, took up the center of the lobby. Her stomach would have to wait a bit longer. When she’d checked in, she’d caught a glimpse of a present for Heather in the gift store.
He was still there, a cuddly stuffed cat that looked so much like Elmer, they might have used him for the model. Other than the red bow around his neck. Elmer did not tolerate bows. She paid for the toy and a bag of peanut M&M’s in Christmas colors. They’d probably be all gone before Heather could eat them, but she could always buy more. They both loved peanut M&M’s. Back in her room, she ordered room service for breakfast, and with a promise of food in twenty minutes, she turned on the shower. She began belting out “Joy to the World”; she could finish the rest of the phone calls later.
One Perfect Day Page 9