“The surgery went well?”
“Very well. Dr. Walker said your new heart started beating on the first try and acts like it lived in your chest all its life.”
“When can I go home?”
“If that isn’t just like the Heather I know and love.” Randy patted her shoulder. “I think they may want to keep you here a day or two, just to make sure all is well, you know.” He set his shopping bag on the bed. “You up to opening a present?”
She looked at her mother. “No, but Mom can do it for me.” She shifted in the bed and gasped. “Ohhhh.”
“Major surgery, my daughter. Stay quiet. Randy will open it.” Jenna automatically transferred her fingers from woven with Heather’s to her wrist, to monitor her pulse. The steady beat reassured her.
Randy nodded and took a red box with a wide gold mesh ribbon and bow from the bag.
“Save the bow.”
“Okay.” He eased the ribbon off the box and laid it on the bed. From the box, he lifted a book. “Now this comes in two parts.” He held it up for her to see, then read its title, Cross-Country Skiing in Ten Easy Lessons. “I thought a winter sport would be fun, in honor of the season.”
At her delighted grin, he held up a gift certificate. “ ‘To Heather. For all your gear.’ ”
“Skiing. I’ll be able to go skiing, won’t I, Mom?”
“I don’t know why not.” She smiled from her daughter to her favorite brother-in-law. “And I’m sure Randy plans on taking you ASAP.”
“And if we don’t make skiing this year, you can cash this in for a bike.”
“Thanks. Either would be…” Her voice trailed off as she slipped back into sleep.
“Thank you. I told you she’d be pleased.”
“Well, I don’t usually put girls to sleep with my gifts, but in this case, I’m so grateful I could burst.” He stared down at Heather. “Her mind is clear as can be. I thought she’d be all groggy and disoriented.”
“Could have been.” Jenna heaved a pent-up breath. Relief made her knees tremble.
“How’d she do?” The nurse joined them at the bedside.
“Clear as can be. Only grimaced when she tried to move.”
“Good. We’ll try to get her transferred to the regular floor as soon as we can. Then sitting up, then up on her feet. Dr. Walker is known for getting his patients moving right away.” She checked the machines and used a syringe to add meds to the IV drip. “This should keep her comfortable. The next few hours will tell us a lot. Glad she came to while you were here to enjoy it.”
Brother-in-law and sister-in-law looked at each other. Don’t hug me, thought Jenna. Don’t hug me and talk about the thirty-six-hour window. I just might fall apart.
“Me too” was all Randy said in response to the nurse as he put the box back in the bag. “Can I take you out to eat?”
“Why, thank you, I’d love to. You’d have to wait until my shift changes, though.” The nurse made a big-mouthed O. “Darn, I don’t suppose you mean me?”
Jenna chuckled. “You can come if you want.”
“You go have a good time. She isn’t going to wake up again anytime soon.” She started to leave the room. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Randy and Jenna said together.
Jenna hitched her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll take you up on the food now.” Thirty-six hours and counting. Please, Lord, keep her safe.
Chapter Fifteen
Nora
What is it?” Gordon asked when Nora woke with a cry.
“That voice, it won’t leave me alone. Every time I close my eyes.”
“What voice?”
“In my dreams—it keeps shouting that we killed Charlie.”
“It’s a nightmare, you know nightmares can’t be believed.” He reached for her hand in the darkness. “You’re cold.”
Nora continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “The dream is always cold and black and this awful voice, sometimes it shouts, sometimes it whispers, sounds like a snake.” She shuddered, then lay stiff, trying to keep the shivers and the pain inside. “I can’t find my way out. I can’t see anything. My ears hurt.” Covering her ears with her hands, she forced the words out. “What if we did?”
They hung in the air, then crashed, sounding like icicles falling from eaves and shattering.
“Did what?”
“Help them kill our son. Maybe they just wanted to harvest the organs.”
“Nora, you have to let this go. If he’d still been alive, he would have stayed alive when they turned the machines off. He was gone immediately, you know that.” He threw himself back on the pillow with a groan. “You need to ask the doctor for some sleeping pills so we can both get some sleep.”
“You think pills would take care of this? My son is killed and I just pop a little pill and everything will be all right?” She could hear the brittle shriek underlying her voice. Surely, she didn’t really sound like that. What was the matter with her? Luke said grief played tricks on people.
The bed moved and Gordon sat on the edge. “I’ll sleep in the family room. One of us has to get some rest.”
“No, let me. I’m the one causing the problem.”
“Ah, Nora, it’s not you that’s the problem. We just have to get through this.” He sighed again and lay back down, rolling over to draw her into his arms. “You’re freezing.”
“I’ve been freezing ever since that officer came to the door. I thought it was you and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.” Her voice sounded detached from her body. “But when they said Charlie, I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be happening. Your children are not supposed to die before you do.” She rolled on her side to face him. “I can’t even find God.”
“He hasn’t moved.”
“Then my eyes are blinded, my ears plugged and my soul shriveled.” She didn’t add, “and it’s all His fault.” She thought it, though. This wasn’t the way life was supposed to be.
She lay still, listening for the accusing voice, her eyes burning until she felt Gordon slip back into slumber. Then she crept out of the bed and made her way in the hall, dimly lit by a night-light in the bathroom, past the closed door to Charlie’s room, then down the stairs to curl up on the sofa in the family room, with the afghan she had crocheted several Christmases ago. Granny squares in red, green and white. Perhaps the nightmare wouldn’t find her here.
Betsy padded across the tile, her toenails clicking, and climbed up to lie on Nora’s feet.
She woke on Christmas morning with her arms around Betsy, the smell of coffee in the air. Christmas morning. She had so much to do. Then… Christmas morning and Charlie was still dead. She stumbled back up the stairs and crawled into her own bed. No more nightmares. Perhaps the answer was not to fall asleep; then the nightmare could not come. The voice, however, seemed impervious to day or night: “What if you said good-bye too soon?”
Nora thought briefly of the prime rib she’d purchased and planned on serving for Christmas Day dinner. The thought flitted away as fast as it had arrived. Prime rib was Charlie’s favorite. She figured she’d never prepare or probably eat prime rib again.
The garlic mashed potatoes were Christi’s favorite and the homemade rolls with poppy seeds on top waiting in the freezer were Gordon’s. They’d all voted for pumpkin pie, which she would have baked yesterday.
Yesterday, the day before time telescoped and then vanished, only to reappear cloaked in gray with black blobs. Ugly time that could not be overlooked or forgotten. She’d never look at time the same again.
She started to get up, then collapsed back against the womb of her bed. Rage flicked a forked tongue, sending a hiss that sliced raw tissue in such thin sheets it became transparent. Each sheet exuded pain that multiplied with each breath.
Charlie is dead, and the world dares to dawn Christmas. The words could not yet be spoken, lest they arouse the hiss again. But the thought made her pull the twisted sheets over her head. The silence of
the womb. Tears leaked from eyes seared raw. Surely, there could be no more tears. Where did they come from? What well that knew no bottom?
A weight jumped on the bed. Betsy whimpered, nosed the form hidden by the sheets. When Nora failed to respond, she lay down beside her with a sigh.
With no sense of time passed, she heard another sound. Footsteps, Gordon by the weight of them. Betsy’s wagging tail brushed her side. Gordon sat down, his hand heavy on her thigh.
Go away. She locked the scream within. Leave me alone. Maybe if I lie here long enough, I will leave this rotten world behind and find Charlie.
“Nora, I know you’re awake.” His voice sandpapered her skin. “We have a daughter too, you know, and she needs you.”
“No, she needs her father. You have always been better with her than I am.”
“She needs her mother and her father. You have always been there for her—and for me. I can’t do it alone.”
She could hear the tears in his voice. But at least he is making an effort. The familiar voice, which she usually joked about nagging her, intruded now, slathering judgment like butter on hot toast.
“You might feel better if you joined us for a while.”
“Joined you where?”
“I started the fire in the living room. We could heat something for supper and eat in there.”
“Where the tree is.” Her voice broke. The tree, Charlie and Christi putting up the lights. Laughing, teasing each other. “I can’t go in there.” Every inch of this house held memories of Charlie. At least here in her bed, there weren’t so many. At least she could halfway convince herself of the safety here.
“Please, darling.” His hand felt warm on her thigh as he stroked gently. “We… I need you.”
When had Gordon ever said he needed her? She fought through the sludge of apathy, searching for a match for his words.
“Give me a few minutes, I’ll try.”
“Good. Can I bring you anything?”
“No. Just leave me be.”
“I’ll heat some sliced turkey breast and stuffing in the microwave.”
“None for me.”
“But, Nora, you’ve not eaten for two days.” When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Susan’s been calling.”
Why couldn’t she make the effort to at least call her best friend back? They shared everything, same prayer group, kids near the same age, both husbands traveled for their companies. They learned Hardanger together, cross-country skied, shared books and jokes. Susan was the sister she’d never had.
Susan who?
The bed moved as Gordon stood up. “You’ll come then?”
I said I would. Why did everything want to come out in a growl? A Bible verse flitted through her mind. “Lo, I am with you always.” But, God, I hurt so bad. Where are You? How could You let this happen?
That was the question. If He was the God of love she’d believed in all these years, how could He let her down like this? Why would He? Maybe He didn’t really care as much as she’d always believed? Maybe He wasn’t.
She dragged herself from the bed and headed for the bathroom. How she could continue to need the john when she’d not had anything to eat or drink was beyond her. Making sure she didn’t look in the mirror, she cupped water in her hands and splashed it on her face. The shock of the cold made her blink. She licked some off her lips and was suddenly so thirsty she could have put her mouth under the faucet and turned it on full force. Instead, she pulled a paper cup from the dispenser, filled and drank it once, then again. Her stomach revolted and she heaved the liquid into the toilet. And Gordon wanted her to eat something—hardly. But she would make an appearance—for Christi’s sake, if nothing else. She thought of changing out of her gray sweats, but the act would take far more energy than she could muster. Dampening her fingers under the faucet, she ran them through her hair, lifting the limp strands in the hope they’d fall back where they belonged. Sliding her feet into a pair of moccasins, she headed for the hallway. Betsy jumped off the bed and padded beside her, as if making sure she was really moving.
The smell of turkey made her swallow quickly, but she continued down the stairs, hanging onto the carved oak rail in case her knees gave out like they threatened. She should have brushed her teeth to get rid of the dreadful taste.
Christi and Gordon had set the table in the family room, the game table, where they had spent hours at board games, cards and dominos. She closed her eyes. Could she sit there and smell the food?
“Hi, Mom.”
Nora nodded and really looked at her daughter for the first time in the last two days. Christi had lost weight, leaving shadows under her eyes, or maybe the shadow came from her tears. While she’d washed her hair, she’d not put on any makeup, showing her skin was a translucent white, like the snow outside that shone blue in the hollows. At least she’d put on jeans and a sweater, not worn her rattiest sweats like her mother.
Nora clenched her elbows with her hands and went to stand in front of the fireplace. Gordon had built a fire in here too. Betsy sat on the braided rug at her feet, staring into the flickering light.
“Would you like some coffee?” Gordon asked.
Nora shook her head. “It wouldn’t stay down.”
“Tea? Herbal tea? Hot chocolate?”
“You always say crackers are the best to try.” Christi opened the cupboard and retrieved the soda cracker box. “7UP might help.” She brought the drink and a few crackers on a plate.
I should be taking care of her, not the other way around. Nora took the offering with a nod. A smile was beyond her. She sipped the sparkling beverage, and when that didn’t come up immediately, she nibbled on a saltine.
“How about if we pull the chairs in closer to the fire and eat there?” Gordon stood beside her, rubbing his hands in the heat.
Whatever. Had she answered or just thought it? But when the chair bumped against the back of her legs, she sat down. If she sat any closer, the fire might melt the furniture or her clothes.
Gordon and Christi filled their plates from the food on the counter and each took a chair. Where there should have been laughter and teasing conversation, the crackling fire and chewing took their place.
Nora leaned forward, elbows on her knees, nibbling still on the same cracker. When her throat dried out, she sipped the drink so she could swallow the paste in her mouth. But it stayed down. When her face felt like it was melting, she leaned back in the chair with a gut-dragging sigh.
“Susan called again.” Christi spoke softly as if afraid to disturb the eddies of Christmases past.
Nora nodded. “Tell her I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“She said if you didn’t call, she was coming over here.”
“There have been a lot of calls. I left them on the machine,” Gordon said.
That meant Gordon hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone on the phone either. She looked at her husband out of the corner of her eye. He had put his half-eaten plate on the floor and Betsy was cleaning it up. Gordon did not believe in letting the animals eat off the plates for humans.
Nora finished the one cracker and started on another. Maybe hot tea would melt the ice inside as the fire was doing its job on the outside. She rose and moved to the stove. Gordon had set several kinds of tea on the counter and the teakettle steamed on a back burner.
“I’ll make it if you want.”
“No. I’m okay. Anyone else want some?”
When they shook their heads, she poured hot water over a tea bag that she took without even looking at the label. Hot and flavored, that would do. Returning to her overstuffed chair, she sank into the comfort of its solid form, tucking her feet up beneath her.
When the phone rang a while later, she shook her head. Christi started to rise, then sank back down. Gordon was sound asleep, head resting on the cushiony chair back, mouth slightly open. At least someone was getting some sleep.
She stared up at the mantel, where the Christmas stockings hung limp. Santa hadn’t
visited this house, nor any of his elves. At the thought of elves, Nora remembered Charlie’s story of the little girl wanting a kitten for her mother.
“Did Charlie pick up the kitten?”
Christi shook her head. “He’d planned to do that… yesterday, just before Christmas.” A tremor shook her.
Nora’s eyes filled. Would the little girl ever believe in Santa Claus again? Would any of them?
Chapter Sixteen
Jenna
Mom?”
“I’m here. Merry Christmas.”
“Is it today?” Heather moved her hand to touch her mother’s as it lay on the bed.
Jenna slid her fingers between her daughter’s. One more thing to be grateful for, the nails without a blue tinge, warm to the touch, with no fever.
“Is Uncle Randy really here or did I dream it?”
“He’s here. He and I have been taking turns watching you sleep.”
After a few sips of water, mother and daughter eyed one another.
“I really have a new heart?” Heather said, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of her mouth.
“You really do.”
The smile faded. “Someone died, then, huh?”
“Yes.” Jenna blinked and sniffed. The thought of that other mother hadn’t left her. Did she have family to help her through this? A husband, other children? How could she bear it?
“Hey, look who’s awake.” The nurse stopped at the foot of the bed. “You’re looking mighty chipper for a girl who’s been through such major surgery.” She checked the monitors and laid the stethoscope against Heather’s ribs. “Sure enough, beatin’ away.”
“When can I go home?”
The nurse rolled her eyes. “Can’t keep a good one down. You’ll have to ask the doctor, but it’ll be a few days before you can think of that. First you’ll get moved to surgical floor and that just might be today.” She smiled at Jenna. “What a merry Christmas, eh? We are all rejoicing for and with you.” She turned back to Heather. “Besides, there is a very good-looking man who is asking if he can come in again. You want to see him?”
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