The dogs raced her up the stairs, poor little Oscar leaping from riser to riser. She scooped him up and let Goldie help pull her the last few feet. Once inside, she dialed the hospital, asked for the nurses’ station and fed the dogs while she waited for someone to answer.
“She is grumbling that we never let her sleep, that’s how she was a few minutes ago, but I just checked on her and she’s out again. Been that way all night, so I’d say that was good news, wouldn’t you?”
“Sure do. I’ll be in pretty soon. Thanks.” She hung up the phone and danced her way to the bathroom for her shower, “Thank you, Jesus,” her theme song.
She had brought Heather’s laptop; so when Randy arrived, Jenna was listening to Heather read messages from her donor friends, all of whom said they were praying and not to let this get her down. Some of them made her laugh, others brought on a sniff or two.
He rapped on the open door with his knuckles. “Anyone home?”
Heather leaned back against her pillows and crossed her arms over her chest. “What took you so long?”
“Now, is that a friendly greeting or what?” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Wish I could have come sooner.” Tapping the computer, he asked, “How’s the search coming along?”
Heather shook her head. “Narrowed down to four possibles, but can’t get any more information. I’m going to write a letter and send it through the donor organization.”
Jenna blinked. “When did you decide that?” She took the hand that Randy offered her and enjoyed the shock waves going up her arm at the contact.
“Before I got slammed in here again.”
Jenna started to say something, but Randy’s hand on her shoulder squeezed.
Heather made a face. “Sorry. I know I should be grateful we caught this in time, but I am so tired of hospitals.”
“I heard that.” Dr. Avery stood in the doorway. “Maligning our magnificent facilities. You must be feeling better.”
Heather had the grace to look ashamed. “When can I go home?”
“How about this afternoon? But you’ll need to take it easy. IVs daily. Another biopsy in two days. Think you can handle that?”
“What are my choices?”
He shrugged and winked at her. “You could stay here.”
Heather held up her hands, in mock surrender. She dropped the gesture, then gave him a studying look.
“What now?”
“You couldn’t, by any chance, bypass the system and find out who my donor was?”
“Not a chance. All I know is that a healthy young male gave you a new lease on life.”
“Never hurts to try.”
“You still looking?” He shook his head. “Just write the letter, like we discussed, and send it through the channels. What difference does it really make who it was?”
“Doesn’t make us related, huh?”
“Nope. But I know that a letter like that makes a difference to donor families. I sometimes get to hear both sides, you know?” He patted her foot. “Later.”
Heather leaned back against her pillow. “How’s Goldie?”
“Missing you. She had to sleep on the floor.”
“Mean Mom.” She set her computer on the tray table. “Why don’t you two go get coffee or something, so I don’t have to entertain you.”
Jenna snorted and Randy shook his head. “Yes, Your Highness. Can we get you anything, Your Majesty?”
Heather closed her eyes and scrunched up her face. “Ah, let me think. Something with chocolate.”
“Your wish is my command.” Randy pulled a box out of the bag he carried and set it on Heather’s lap. “I couldn’t find Godiva.”
Heather giggled. “I like See’s just as well.” She dug into the wrapping around the flat box. “There’s a plastic knife in that drawer, if you can find it.” She waited and watched him dig. “Mess, huh?”
He held up the plastic-wrapped knife and, without unwrapping it, sliced through the clear wrap around the candy. “You have to share with your mother.”
Heather made a face, pulled the lid off and studied the contents, settling on an almond cluster, then handed the box to Jenna and crunched half the piece. “Um. You bring good presents.”
“Glad to oblige. Now we’ll leave you to your decadence.” He made a half bow and stage-whispered to Jenna, “Let’s get out of here while the getting’s good.”
In the elevator, Randy put his arm around Jenna and brought her closer to his side. “She looks all right.”
“It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Dr. Avery said we got this one early, thanks to those miserable heart biopsies, but she reacted to the meds. They had to take her off the new one that is best and build her a cocktail of the others.” The elevator opened, a nurse stepped on, saw his arm around her and stepped back off, with a nod and a smile.
“Sheesh, now this will be all over the hospital in a heartbeat.”
“This?”
“That I was making out on the elevator.”
“An arm around you is making out?” He leaned close and kissed her quickly as the elevator opened again. They strode past two giggling candy stripers and headed for the cafeteria, Jenna’s cheeks flaming and Randy chuckling.
When he carried their coffee tray to a table in the far corner, Jenna sat across from him and rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin on her laced fingers.
He glanced up to see her studying him. “What?”
“I’m not used to someone waiting on me like this.”
“All I did was carry the coffee tray.”
“And come running as soon as you could get here. And buy See’s candy, because you know Heather loves chocolate.”
“According to my mother, every female loves chocolate.”
“And men don’t.”
“Not as obsessive.”
“Puh-leeze,” came out as a two-syllable word, emphasized by upward-seeking eyes.
Randy pushed her cup of coffee closer to her. “Do you want something else?”
“No…”
“I hear a ‘but.’ ” He reached across the table and took her hands in his, thumbs stroking the backs of her hands. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”
“You couldn’t have done anything either. That’s the frustrating part. That helpless feeling. I am having a difficult time trusting God to get us through this.”
“But you’re doing it anyway.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if you weren’t, you’d be muttering and pacing and stewing and you wouldn’t have left that room to come down here with me.”
Jenna thought about what he’d said. He was right.
“Hey, even Thomas had doubts.”
“True.”
“By the way, Mom said that she’s put Heather and you back on the prayer chain at church.”
“I called my friend in Omaha too, you know the chaplain at the hospital? He said he’ll keep praying and that Jared finally got to go home with his family. He beat the rejection.”
“As will Heather.”
“Sometimes I think about the mother of the donor. A male, Dr. Avery said. Someone’s son. I would be so angry at God, at everything. Makes me feel guilty for being so happy.” She paused with a half shrug. “Well, most of the time.”
“I have something I want to show you.”
“What?”
He hesitated. “I was going to wait, but…” He squeezed her hands, released them and picked up his coffee mug. “Drink up and call the floor to tell them you’ll be gone an hour or so.”
“Randy.”
“No, I was going to wait for Heather, but”—he glugged his coffee—“let’s go.”
They set their mugs and the tray on the moving belt and headed for the elevator, Jenna fumbling with her cell phone. She left the message and only hung back a little as he dragged her out the doorway. “Where’s your coat?”
“In Heather’s room. I didn’t know I needed it.”
“Here.” He shucked his leather jacket off and put it around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, I have a sweater on and another in the car.” He held the door of the rental open for her and slammed it as soon as she cleared the door frame. He fed some numbers into his portable GPS and drove out of the parking lot, heading north.
“Randy, if you don’t mind, what is going on?”
“I have to show you something.” The voice told him when to turn west, then north and west again. When he pulled under a log-framed arch, she stared at him.
“Have you gone nuts?”
“Do you know this place?”
“Not at all. Do you?”
“Pretty much.” He stopped the car at the top of the rise and inched forward until they could see a small valley on a bend of the North Platte River. Red willow bushes lined the banks of a creek that fed into the river. Wood fences framed a gambrel-roofed barn and a house sheltered by several old deciduous trees and a windbreak of pines and mixed trees. Rolls of hay lined one side of the barn, several smaller corrals the other.
“What do you think?” He kept his arms crossed over the steering wheel and looked at her over his shoulder.
“Well, it’s beautiful, even now. Why?”
“There are four bedrooms in the house, a remodeled kitchen, two-and-a-half baths, big stone fireplace in the living room, an office and a family room, sort of a great room around the kitchen.”
“So?”
“The barn has been kept up, they’ve been running horses and beef cattle on the place, along with hay and dryland grain.”
“Okay.”
“Do you think you could be happy here?” Jenna sucked in a deep breath. “Randy, I can’t afford a place like this.”
“No, but I can.” He turned sideways to look at her. “I think I’m doing this backward. Jenna, will you marry me?”
Her heart stopped and picked up again, a thudding against her ribs. She searched his eyes for any doubts. “You’re sure of this?” All her excuses flew right out the window when he leaned across the space and gently placed his lips on hers. Her hands stroked his cheeks, then locked behind his head. When he drew away, she blinked.
“Did that feel sure?”
She nodded. “Perhaps we should try it again to make sure we got it right.”
“Oh, we have lots of time to practice. Is that a yes?”
She nodded. “Yes, I love you, and yes, I’ll marry you.” She swallowed the butterflies that rampaged around in her middle. Had she really agreed? Or was she dreaming all this? Talk about a whirlwind, picking her up and putting her down in a new life.
He rested his forehead against hers. “Good. Now that the most important things are settled, how would you like to go look at this place? I think we could all three be really happy here. You’re not too far from the hospital, I’m not too far from the airport and—”
Jenna put a finger on his lips. “One thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If you buy this place, will you have to give up your dream of becoming a massage therapist?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure if I really want to do that, but buying this won’t break the bank.” He kissed her again. “I think Heather will approve.”
“Of what, the place or our marriage?”
“Both. Since it is vacant, we could take possession as soon as escrow closes.”
“So.”
“So what if we had the wedding and then moved in, after a honeymoon, of course?”
“I hope you don’t want a big wedding.” Jenna stared at the man beside her. So much had changed since Christmas. But they’d had years of friendship, so it wasn’t like they were rushing into the unknown.
“Nope. So, do you want to go look at the place or go tell Heather?”
“Tell Heather.”
“I figured.” He backed the SUV to a wider spot and wheeled it around, then parked and leaped out of the rig. Throwing his arms in the air, he shouted, “She loves me! She really loves me!” He climbed back in and grinned at her. “Just couldn’t hold it all in any longer.”
She stared at him, her head wagging slightly from side to side. Life with Randy would certainly be an adventure. “How’d you find this place?”
“On the Internet, virtual tour, talked with the Realtor. It just seemed a good fit—for all of us.”
“Us”—such a small word that covered so much. She’d not been an “us” for so long. She turned to stare at his profile as he watched the road. When he stopped at a stop sign, he grinned at her. “I love you, Jenna Montgomery, for now and forever.”
The words curled around her heart and danced in her mind. She had learned that forever could be long or short, but she resolved to love him, forever, one day at a time.
Chapter Thirty-one
Nora
Gordon, are you sleeping?”
A gentle snort. “Almost.”
Nora hesitated. She’d been wanting to talk to him for days, but he’d been gone on another business trip and come home fighting some kind of bug, which had left him coughing his head off and exhausted. He even missed church. She sucked in a huge breath and felt her shoulders drop as she exhaled. “Have you seen any of Christi’s recent paintings?”
“No, how would I?”
“I thought maybe she offered to show them to you.”
“Come on, this is Christi we’re talking about.” He was silent so long, she thought he’d fallen asleep again. Then he spoke, nearly slurring his words with sleep. “She never shows her art to anyone, until she is absolutely satisfied with it. How did you see any?”
“I was in her room apologizing to her a week ago. It’s a disaster.”
“Her room? The art? Christi?” There was a shade of irritation in his voice. The man wanted to sleep.
“Yes.” She left out the information that she’d gone in the room again and the paintings were no better. “I wish you would talk with her.”
“Come on, Nora, she’s dealing with a lot right now. You worry too much.” He turned over on his side, obviously cutting off the discussion.
“What if she is suicidal?”
But his soft snores told her he’d already fallen asleep.
What would Lois have to say about this? Nora had finally taken her misery in hand and called Lois right after Easter. They’d been meeting one morning a week. The first time she came to the house, Nora had spent the time crying and crying about crying. Lois had held her as she cried and told her over and over how normal this was.
“But I thought I was getting better.” Nora gulped.
“This is an up-and-down journey, or back-and-forth.”
“But I hurt so much.”
“True, but that terrible pain will eventually abate. I’m sure you find times now where you can actually think about something else, at least for a few minutes.”
“Like my husband and daughter?” That brought on another freshet as she cried about what a terrible wife and mother she’d been.
But Lois had been right. Talking and crying and hearing that she wasn’t going crazy and that God was not punishing her finally penetrated, and helped. Now she looked forward to the time they spent together. Thoughts of death being the only surcease were fading away.
The next morning after Gordon and Christi were out the door, Nora sat down with a cup of coffee, her journal and Bible. Even with her new car, Christi sometimes rode with her father and asked her mother to pick her up. Shaking her head over how to read her daughter at the right moment, Nora put her mind to what Lois had suggested. Go back to journaling, she’d said, giving her specific instructions to read through the Psalms, stopping to re-read places that spoke to her. Here she was, to meet with her friend the next day, and had yet to open either Bible or journal.
She stared at them, her hands trembling as if she were reaching for fire. She closed her eyes. Betsy laid her head on Nora’s knee, a good interruption. Nora stroked her dog’s head and stared at the black leather-bound book with gilt-edged pag
es. Worn spots on the cover spoke silent witness that she used to read and study this book a lot. Her wire-bound journal held the pen in the coil, ready and waiting. Her stomach clenched and the urge to leap up and run made her sip the coffee, now gone cool. “This is silly.” She brushed away incipient tears. “Just write something for Pete’s sake.”
She ripped the pen out of the wire coil, flipped pages until she found a blank one and slashed the date across the top: “April 20.” Charlie had died almost four months ago. “These have been the worst days of my life,” she scrawled in large, untidy words. She threw the pen on the table, leaned her head in her arms and cried. When the phone rang, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the way to answer it, knowing her voice would creak and croak. Hopefully, it would be a solicitor and would think her ill.
She tried clearing her throat. “Hello?”
“Uh-oh. Bad time?” Susan paused; Nora blew her nose again.
“Yes. I tried to do as Lois keeps suggesting and read the Psalms and write in my journal.”
“Well, that’s a step in the right direction. You tried.”
“I guess. I’m so drained I can hardly stand.”
“Sit down, then. You want to walk?”
“I guess.” Nora turned to look at the books on the table. “Too wet to go around the lake.”
“So we do streets. I’ll be there in a few.”
Nora flipped the journal closed and the Bible open. It fell on Psalm 91 and she read about God hiding His children under His mighty outstretched arms. She closed the book and went to change her shoes. Should she tell Susan about her fears for Christi, or just wait until she could talk with Lois? Or never tell anyone? Let it slide, like Gordon said. But what if Christi was indeed suicidal?
The one thing she knew for absolutely certain: if she said anything to anyone, Christi would hate her.
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