One Perfect Day

by Lauraine Snelling

  Heather nodded. “My uncle Randy. Are you married?”

  The nurse looked at Jenna. “Is your daughter always a matchmaker?” Then she turned back to Heather and held up her left hand. “No rings doesn’t always mean no man in my life.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll go get your uncle. You just behave yourself and get stronger by the minute. How’s the pain level?”

  “Tolerable.”

  “For now. We want to make sure to keep on top of it. Fighting pain slows down the healing. So, don’t be trying to tough it out, okay?”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “All right. But I hate to miss out on anything. I have a new heart!” She squeezed her mother’s hand. “And we have a new life, huh, Mom?”

  “We do.” Jenna held the water glass and straw out. “Drink lots.”

  “So how’s my girl doing?” Randy paused in the doorway. “Are you the same Heather I watched sleep for all those hours?”

  “I am.” Heather flinched when she tried to push herself up higher on the pillow.

  “Let us help you.” Jenna nodded to Randy, and with each of them taking an arm, they scooted her up a bit.

  Heather took in a deep breath and flinched some more. “Okay, no moving and no deep breathing.” She let out a sigh. “Now I feel like I just ran a block or two.” She stared into her mother’s eyes. “I will be able to run, won’t I?”

  “I imagine you will have to work up to it slowly, but I’ve read of other heart transplants that run. Not sure you’ll want to enter races—and this will take a lot of conditioning—but, gee, maybe we could even run together.”

  “You used to run?”

  Jenna nodded. She used to do a lot of things, but over the last few years, her world had narrowed down to work and taking care of her daughter. Doctor’s appointments, hospitalizations, school when she could, physical therapy, homeschooling when necessary and working the ER, her place of respite. What would a normal life feel like? Look like? Taste like? Maybe… what a magical concept. She looked up to see Randy watching her and Heather sleeping peacefully with a slight smile. Lord, give her good dreams to go along with this new life. I know she’s been afraid to dream, just like I have.

  When Randy looked back at Heather, Jenna studied him. The resemblance to his older brother was uncanny, and yet two men could not have had more different personalities. Arlen had the oldest-child drive to succeed, to be the best. The U.S. Marines had suited him well with all the challenges—yet one could not have asked for a more caring husband. His shoes would be hard to fill.

  While she’d met a few men worth dating, none had passed the test of a handicapped child. She knew Heather had wanted a father, and her mother to not be alone. That had been one of her worries, that if she died, her mother would be all alone.

  Jenna blinked and looked down at the white blanket that rose and fell over her daughter’s expanding and contracting chest, that protected that new heart. Would this heart be as loving as her other poor, damaged one? What of the young person that gave it up for her? Was he or she loving and kind? Oh, Lord, visit those parents with extra special love today. Christmas without their child. How can that mother and father bear it?

  Randy came around the bed and stood behind her, his strong hands rested on her shoulders, then began to rub them and work up her neck. “You can let all this tension go now, you know.”

  “Easier said than done.” She let her head fall forward. Ah, how good that felt.

  “Do you ever go for a massage?”

  “Never have the time.”

  “We need to get Heather to a good massage therapist. That will help her circulation.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve been taking some classes.”

  “Really? How come you never said anything?” She turned to look up into his face.

  “I don’t know. It started as a hobby, but I’ve learned that I have good hands for it. Mother thinks I’m nuts, if I give up my job and start all over again.”

  “How is your mother?” She’d had a hard time dealing with the death of her son, even though he’d often tried to prepare her for that possibility, just as he had his wife. While an option in theory, preparing for it didn’t hold water in reality. At least Arlen’s parents had made the effort to remain Heather’s grandparents, doting on their first grandchild and keeping in touch in spite of the miles. Quite unlike Jenna’s own mother.

  “She can’t wait to come visit.”

  Jenna leaned her neck from side to side. “I’m going to fall asleep.”

  “Would that be such a bad thing?” His thumbs dug into the knots at the base of her scalp.

  “I think if you want to change directions in life, you ought to do it. Grab whatever makes you happy.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  She puzzled on that comment a bit, then straightened when she heard the nurse enter the room.

  “Hey, I can find you more necks to work on if you are so inclined.”

  Randy patted Jenna’s shoulder and stepped back. “You look like you have good news.”

  “I do. We are moving this little chickie out of here and onto the floor. She is doing that well. So, if you two want to go have supper or some such, within an hour or so, we will have her all set up in room 416.”

  “Isn’t this awfully early?” Jenna’s nursing instincts kicked in. “All I’ve read—”

  “Dr. Walker feels that the sooner we get her on her feet, the better. She doesn’t need our services any longer. I’ll tell Heather where you are when she wakes up.”

  I’m afraid to leave her. Don’t be silly. An argument picked up again in her head. Always, mother versus nurse.

  “I promise we’ll take good care of her.” The nurse turned from checking the monitors and the drip and made shooing motions with her hands. “We’ll miss you all here, but the next floor is lovely.”

  “Come along, I’ll buy you the finest Christmas supper this hospital makes.” Randy picked up the shopping bag she’d brought with the present for her daughter and took her arm.

  Jenna leaned over the bed and kissed Heather’s cheek. “See you in a bit,” she whispered.

  “We could go back to the hotel for dinner,” Randy said as he punched the down button on the elevator.

  “Whichever you want, but we should let them know.”

  “They have your cell number?”

  “Of course, I…” Jenna shook her head. “I’m acting crazy, I know.” She leaned back against the side of the elevator. “Let’s do the hotel. I’m sure they have better food.”

  “Only if you promise to really eat and not worry about Heather.”

  “I don’t worry, I…” She glanced up to see a teasing look in his eyes. He did have wonderful eyes. “How come you’ve never married?” The words popped out without passing through the barrier of her brain.

  The elevator stopped at the sky bridge floor and he waited until they were walking across the bridge before answering. “If you really want to know…” He paused.

  “I do.”

  “The woman I fell in love with was already taken.” Jenna tucked her hand through his arm. “That’s sad. Surely, you can find another.”

  “Oh, I think I’m a one-woman man.”

  She glanced up to find him staring down at her. Smiling up at him, she added, “Just tell Heather, she’ll find someone for you.”

  “Maybe I’ll do that.” They stopped at the entrance to the dining room and then followed the hostess to their white-clothed table, where a candle in a red globe, surrounded by pieces of pine and holly, lent a festive air. A three-level tier of red-and-cream-speckled poinsettias filled a red-draped round table in the center of the room and Christmas music played softly in the background.

  “I should have changed clothes, this looks so lovely.” Jenna smiled up at Randy as he seated her. “Thank you.” Her mother-in-law had taught her sons well in the manners department. Few of the men she’d dated had their grace. Perha
ps that was one of the reasons she’d quit dating. No one ever measured up.

  “You look fine.” Randy took his seat and spread his napkin in his lap. “Now, I suggest we start with eggnog to keep up the traditions of the season, then turkey with all the trimmings.”

  “And blue cheese on the salad.” How good it felt to have someone else make suggestions. She’d have stared at the menu, thinking that making a choice would take too much effort. “You know, this is the first Christmas Day dinner I’ve ever eaten in a hotel or anyplace not home or at someone’s house.” She glanced around the room. “I guess lots of people do this—surely, these aren’t all relatives or friends with someone in the hospital.”

  “I’ve traveled plenty over the holidays, so this is not unusual.” He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Have you given any thought to how your life will change now?”

  “Some. But we’re not out of the woods yet, you know. These first three months will be somewhat restricted. That’s when the threat of rejection is the highest. We have to get her immune system built back up, but that is the same system that will try to reject the heart.”

  “Even with as good a match as this one?”

  “Even so. The list of meds she’ll be taking is as long as my arm. I don’t know how people without some medical training get through it.”

  “They have advisors and visiting nurses and phone lines to call for help when it’s needed.”

  “You’ve been studying up on transplants?”

  “My favorite bedtime reading.”

  Their waiter came and took their orders and their conversation traveled the world as he told her about the places he’d been.

  “I’d love to go to New York City,” she said in response to one of his questions.

  He finished chewing a mouthful of turkey. “We could do that.”

  She stared at him. “You mean that?”

  “Of course. If Heather would like to go, we’ll take her too.”

  “She’s always dreamed of going to New York. This could be a celebration for her and her new heart.”

  “Just tell me when.”

  She stared across the table at him. “You really do mean this, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  Those two words sent a shiver up and down her spine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nora

  They made it through Christmas Day. Endless days to follow.

  Nora took out the thought and studied it again. Perfect civility had been the rule, as if they were all strangers being polite, but at least they were together. If being together meant being in one room. They’d not even gone into the living room, or at least she hadn’t, and they’d all gone to their rooms about the same time. Gordon had started the fire in there for nothing. She lay as still as possible, not sure if he was sleeping, but not wanting to talk. Would tomorrow be a better day?

  Would there ever be a good day again?

  Sometime later, with Gordon sleeping and puffing gently, she slid out from under the covers and grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. She made her way downstairs. Coals still winked in the fireplace, so she added a couple of sticks of pitch wood and stood to watch the flames catch. Surely, there was a message there. She added a couple of hunks of pine and retreated to the chair she’d hidden in earlier. Not that she was invisible, but the barriers had surely been locked in place. Gordon was right. She needed to help Christi. Gordon needed her. But how could she help anyone when she couldn’t help herself? God, I want my son back. In spite of her efforts, tears leaked and blurred the flames now licking at the split wood.

  Mesmerized, she stared into the fire, too cell-aching weary to even follow a line of thought. She heard Betsy’s toenails on the tile and then felt a furry muzzle on her bent knees. She’d sat again with her feet tucked to the side of the chair, not an easy pose, considering her long legs. But she needed to be as compact as possible, pulled in both outside and in. If she could be a turtle, perhaps the pain would bounce off the shell and ricochet off into space.

  Betsy whimpered, one little cry deep in her throat. It sounded like a baby crying. Did she understand that Charlie would not be back, or was she just picking up on the pain of all of them? Nora leaned forward and clasped her hands over the dog’s ears, rubbing gently.

  “Poor girl, you try so hard to take care of us, to comfort. If only we could make things all right again. But this time, I can’t. I can’t make things all better, no matter how much I wish I could. Only God can, and He isn’t doing anything. At least not that I can see.” She leaned back in the chair again, one elbow propped on the padded chair arm. The fire crackled and snapped. She glanced at the mantel to see one of the pine boughs hanging over the edge. Out of place, marring the plan of the mantel decoration. A reminder of the endless day yesterday. As if pulled by a master puppeteer working her strings, she rose and pulled the pine bough off the mantel and threw it in the fire. That made another bough stick out wrong. It, too, disappeared into the fire. Then another and another. The fire blazed, voraciously devouring the drying pine needles. When the mantel was empty, but for the candles and stockings, she headed for the staircase and ripped off the garland she’d so lovingly wrapped around the railing. Bit by bit, she threw it in the fire too, not bothering to even remove the wire. The fire leaped and roared, shouting for more.

  “Nora, what are you doing?” Gordon pulled the last of the garland from her hands. “You want to set the house on fire? A chimney fire at the least.”

  “Leave me alone.” She headed for the table in the bay window. Everything was out of place. Or too neatly arranged. The table arrangement, which she’d admired as one of her better craft projects, now stood too perfect with its pine and cedar branches. Ripping them out of the Styrofoam base, she carried them to the fireplace, but Gordon stopped her from throwing them in.

  “Let it die down first.” When she ignored him, he grabbed her around the shoulders and held her against his chest. She struggled, calling him names as if she had no idea who he was. “Nora, Nora, that’s enough.” His voice softened as she pummeled him with her fists and then collapsed against him, sobbing and making no sense.

  “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?”

  “I don’t know. Christi, you, me, I can’t. I just can’t.”

  Gordon sank down in the chair, pulling her with him, and watched the fire burn back to normal, the loops of wire blackened and empty. Nora finally curled against him and fell asleep in his arms.

  When she woke to find herself on his lap, and him asleep, she pulled back and stared around. The plundered mantel said her frenzy had not been a dream. What ever possessed me? She laid her head back down on Gordon’s shoulder. If the pain wasn’t bad enough, now she’d gone loony tunes.

  She started to push herself upright, but Gordon stirred and shook his head, pressing a kiss on her head. “You don’t have to move.”

  “I’m smashing you.”

  “Remember when we used to sit in this chair together?” He rubbed his arm. “Guess I’m not as pliable as I used to be.”

  “Last night”—she wanted, no, needed to explain as best she could—“I saw one branch hanging off the mantel, out of place….” Her voice faded, then grew stronger. “When I saw it flare and burn, I could have thrown the whole house in. You think I’m a pyromaniac at heart?”

  “No, I think you’re a grieving mother who needed some kind of outlet. We could go skiing this morning, if you like.”

  “All I want is for Charlie to come pounding down the stairs, asking what’s for breakfast.”

  “Me too.”

  She recognized the desolation in his voice, perhaps for the first time. It matched hers.

  “Luke said he’d be by today to finish planning the memorial service. I told him Friday would be all right. He put the notice in the paper.”

  “Thank God for Luke. How will we get through two days until then?” There
would be more waiting…. Waiting now for the funeral to be over. Then, after that, waiting for—the exhaustion that dried Nora’s bones exhaled deep inside—waiting for each day to hit midnight and become another.

  “Perhaps we should check the answering machine. I haven’t since the twenty-fourth.”

  Nora clutched her robe more tightly around her neck. “Where’s Betsy?”

  Gordon stretched to look around them. “I don’t know.”

  Nora pushed herself off his lap and to her feet. “Betsy?” When there was no sound of the dog coming, she headed up the stairs. Perhaps she was on her bed. But when she came even with Charlie’s door, she saw it was partly open. Surely, it had been closed last night. She’d not opened it since… She steeled herself to look inside. There lay Betsy on his bed, head on her paws, tail barely moving.

  “Come on, girl, let’s get you some breakfast.” Nora closed her eyes to the collection of reptiles and slapped her thigh for the dog to come. I’m not going in there to get you. I just can’t do that yet. “Come, Betsy.” The dog rose, stretched and, after looking around the room, made her way to the door. She paused and looked over her shoulder; then with tail and ears down, she came through the door to stop by Nora’s side.

  Nora closed the door softly, making sure of the click. Surely, there would be someone who would want Charlie’s critters. But when she started down the stairs, another wave of grief caught her behind the knees, sucking her down until she sat on a step and buried her face in her knees. He couldn’t be gone, he had to be coming back.

  Betsy sat beside her, whimpering and trying to push her nose between Nora’s head and arms. When that didn’t work, she licked her ear and pressed as close as she could.

  Nora felt Gordon come up the stairs and sit down beside them, laying his arm over her quivering shoulders.

  “Mom?” Christi asked from behind her. Her voice sounded newly frightened.

  “Come sit with us,” Gordon said.

  When Christi took the stair below them, Nora reached out and gathered her closer. “Sorry. Betsy went in his room and that just wiped me out again.”