The Christmas Hope

by VanLiere, Donna

  Emily helped me peel potatoes and put them into a pot. “Greta lets me cook, too,” she said. I could have kicked myself. I meant to follow up with Greta better than I had done in the last few months. “I go to her house a lot and cook.”

  “You like Greta?”

  “She’s my favorite friend.”

  Now I really felt bad. I had to call Greta right away.

  “Was Greta with you that last night in your house?”

  “For a while, but it was her eightieth anniversary.”

  I smiled. That would make Greta a hundred and something. “So she was holding your hand?” For some reason, the statement Emily made to the police about someone holding her hand had always bothered me.

  Girl ran into the kitchen and stole a potato out of Emily’s hand, which brought an end to our conversation. I dried my hands and dialed Greta’s number. Hal answered the phone and I asked for Greta three times before he understood what I was saying. “Go put your hearing aids in right now,” I heard Greta say before she picked up the phone. She said they would love to come over for dinner, and within the hour they pulled into our driveway.

  Emily ran outside and threw herself into Greta’s arms. The old woman’s voice cracked when she saw her. “You’re okay,” she said, holding Emily. “You’re safe and sound and you’re okay.”

  Emily nodded.

  After we ate, Emily took Hal’s hand and walked into the living room so she could look at the tree again. Mark followed holding the videotapes he had purchased. I caught a glimpse of Emily sitting on the sofa staring at the videos in her hands.

  Greta helped clear the plates. “What’s going to happen to her now?” she asked.

  “She’ll go into another foster home for a while and then when the Delphys get back she’ll go back into their home.”

  “All that moving around,” Greta said under her breath. “It’s not good for a child.” I didn’t say anything. “Will someone adopt her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve heard that older children have a hard time getting adopted. Is that true?”

  I hated to say it. “Sometimes.”

  Greta dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. I handed her a tissue. “When you said she’d go into another foster home, when did you mean that she’d go?”

  “Soon. Probably tomorrow.”

  “But she’ll be uprooted again and it’s almost Christmas.”

  “I know, but the state requires her to be in a foster—”

  “She should stay here till after Christmas,” Greta said, cutting me off. “She likes you and your husband. I can tell. She needs to stay here.” Greta said it as if her word was final.

  “We’re not set up by the state to be foster parents,” I said, trying to explain. “I’m not even allowed to have her in my house.”

  “But it’s Christmas! Doesn’t the state understand that? If her mother was here and she was unable to care for Emily she’d be grateful that her daughter could stay in a home like this with people like you. How could the state move her right now after everything that’s happened? How could you do that to her?”

  I couldn’t look at Greta. The state had rules that I had to follow but I knew she wouldn’t understand that. But I knew, too, that she’d never understand that I just couldn’t have another child in my house. It was too painful. A child hadn’t stayed in our home since Sean died and I preferred to keep it that way.

  “Come on, ladies,” Mark said, calling from the living room and saving me from further conversation with Greta. He put Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer into the VCR and sat on the sofa. Emily sat next to him. He put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. Greta sat next to Emily and Emily reached over and held her hand. I knew she was making herself feel safe. “Reindeers talk, don’t they, Greta?” Emily asked.

  “Everybody knows reindeer talk,” Greta said, assuring her.

  “Mark didn’t know,” Emily said.

  I laughed out loud.

  “Did you know they fly, Mark?” Greta asked.

  “Of course! I pass them all the time in the air.” Emily smiled the faintest of smiles and slid closer to Mark’s side and I swear I saw him melt a little.

  FIVE

  You can’t help everybody, but you can help a few. It’s that few that God will hold us accountable for.

  —Bob Pierce

  Nathan Andrews was awake long before five-thirty, the time his alarm clock was set to ring. In the last six weeks Meghan snored whenever she slept on her back and he’d been awake for forty-five minutes hoping he’d fall back to sleep. He turned off the clock before it rang and stepped inside the shower. He wasn’t supposed to work that day but Dr. Wanschu had phoned last evening and asked if Nathan would cover his patients today because he’d gotten a virus and was vomiting. Nathan dressed and leaned over to kiss Meghan before leaving. She snored more loudly and rolled onto her side, when the snoring stopped. “Great timing,” Nathan said, closing the bedroom door.

  Nathan drove to the hospital and took the elevator to the fourth floor, the pediatric cardiology unit. The nurses behind the desk smiled at him. “What are you doing here?” one of them asked.

  “Dr. Wanschu thought he’d spend the day vomiting.”

  One of the nurses cringed and then they began to talk amongst themselves. “You know, something’s going around. My daughter was vomiting three days ago and yesterday my husband started. I hope I don’t get it.”

  “Dr. Lindall was sick yesterday, too,” the second nurse said. “Better wash your hands a lot. Dr. Andrews, you better wash your hands more often today,” she yelled toward Nathan. He smiled and agreed.

  Nathan opened his office door and put his keys in his coat pocket. He felt something inside it and pulled out the gift Meghan had found and shook his head. He put it back into his pocket so it would be out of sight and out of mind before looking through the files of Dr. Wanschu’s patients. He sat down and took a long drink of coffee but couldn’t stop thinking about the gift. He sighed and pulled it out of his coat pocket, wishing Meghan had never found it, because she was right: it was making him feel guilty. He picked up the phone and dialed long distance. “Hi, this is Nathan Andrews,” he said. “Is Dr. Lee available?” He listened to Muzak for several minutes before he heard the phone click.

  “Nathan?” It was Rory. Dr. Rory Lee was the attending physician in the emergency room when Nathan had done his rotation during his third year of med school.

  “How are you, Doc?” Nathan said.

  “I’m great. I’m a dad again!”

  “Congratulations! Another girl?”

  “A boy this time. Ben. What are you up to?”

  “Well, I’m about to become a father myself.”

  His old friend asked all the right questions. How is Meghan feeling? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl? Do you have any names?Yes, it does change your life, but for the better.

  “What’s going on?” Rory asked. “Do you need help with something?”

  “I have a strange question,” Nathan said. “Is there any way to find out what a patient had as part of their personal items? A patient from four or five years ago?”

  “A patient in the ER?”

  “Yes. Does anybody keep records of what a patient brings in? Do they write the items down and include that in the patient’s file or do they just bag the items and label it with the patient’s name to make things simple at discharge?”

  Rory sighed. “That’s hit or miss. It’s rare but there are those occasions when a nurse will actually write down the items but it just depends on the nurse and it depends on the day and how busy we are. What are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know, really. I have something and I’m wondering who it belonged to.”

  “You don’t know who it belongs to?”

  “No.”

  “You’re just hoping you’ll be able to wander through files and see the item written down as part of a patient’s personal effects?”


  “Yes.”

  Nathan could hear him sigh. “That’d be like finding a needle in a haystack. If you didn’t know the patient’s name then you’d be out of luck.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Nathan said.

  “What is it you have anyway?”

  Nathan looked at the gift in his hand. “I have no idea. It’s still wrapped.”

  “Then unwrap it and give it to charity. At least that way you won’t feel guilty.”

  Nathan laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” He thanked Dr. Lee for his help and put the gift back in his pocket. He’d unwrap it at another time.

  The phone rang and I reached over Emily to answer it. “Hold on one second,” I said, whispering. I put the phone on hold and was quiet as I moved to the side of bed so I wouldn’t wake Emily. I held the door open for Girl to come out of the room but she just lifted her head, looked at me, and curled up closer to Emily. I closed the door and went into my room to pick up the phone. “Hello. Sorry about that.”

  “Patricia, this is Sandra.” Mia’s foster mother. “I’m sorry to bother you so early but something’s wrong with Mia.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure but yesterday she would sleep for hours at a time and last night she fell asleep at five-thirty. She just woke up and I tried to give her a bottle but she’s struggling to drink it. It’s like she’s out of breath or something and has no energy. I called the emergency pediatrician number and they said I’d need to take her to the emergency room at the hospital but I can’t take her this morning because Jeremy is throwing up.” Her four-year-old son had brought home some sort of flu bug from day care. I could tell by her voice that Sandra was concerned about Mia.

  “Don’t worry, Sandra. I’ll take Mia to the hospital.” It wasn’t the first time I’d taken one of my cases to the doctor or hospital and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Thank you, Patricia. I really hate to bother you.”

  I washed my face and wondered what to do about Emily. I wouldn’t be gone that long. I can just leave her here with Mark, I thought. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and was digging for a pair of shoes when I heard something behind me. It was Emily and Girl watching me. They looked so cute standing there together. Emily’s hair was a mess and she was holding Ernie by one paw.

  She looked confused. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “A little girl is sick and I need to take her to the hospital this morning.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “I don’t know.” I pulled on my shoes and sat in front of Emily. She leaned into me and I gave her a big hug. She put her head on my shoulder. “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded.

  “Can I go with you?” she asked.

  “It’s so early. I thought you’d probably like to stay here with Mark.”

  She threw her arms around my neck and held tight. “No,” she said, frantic. “Take me with you.”

  I thought she was scared of being left.

  “The little girl might be afraid and want me to hold her hand.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” I said. “You know, I bet she will want someone to hold her hand.” It didn’t seem like the best idea but I knew Emily needed to go with me so I helped her get ready.

  “Well, where’s everybody going?” Mark asked, standing in the doorway of Emily’s room.

  “We have to go help a little girl who’s sick,” Emily said, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. “Could you take care of Girl for me?”

  “I can do that,” he said. Emily followed Girl down the stairs and Mark walked into the bathroom so I wouldn’t have to pass him in the doorway. We had gotten good at polite avoidance and sidestepping one another.

  I drove through the town square and noticed that Norma Holt hadn’t begun decorating the trio of fir trees yet. For the last couple of weeks I had kept my eye out for Norma but never saw her perched atop one of her ladders as she placed the enormous ornaments on each branch. I slowed down when I saw a city worker sweeping the sidewalk surrounding the square. “I haven’t seen Norma this year,” I said, stopping at the red light.

  “She’s got pneumonia,” he said, resting his hands on top of the broom.

  “Is she in the hospital?”

  “Been there a couple of weeks. She went in with a broken hip and caught pneumonia.”

  “How is she?”

  “Not good. She’s seventy-seven and there ain’t much of her.” The light turned green and I waved to the man, saddened to think that I never knew Norma and that her trees would never be decorated again.

  I pulled into Guy and Sandra’s driveway and when I picked Mia up I could see why Sandra had been concerned. She was a sick little girl. Emily sat next to Mia’s car seat and held on to her hand. “She likes me to hold her hand,” she said.

  I looked at them in the mirror and could see that Mia liked Emily. There wasn’t a long wait in the emergency room and we were able to see a doctor soon after we arrived. He examined her but I could tell he was concerned.

  “Do you have some time?” he asked. “Because I’d like to call Dr. Wanschu in pediatric cardiology to take a look at her.”

  “What is it?” I said.

  “I hear a murmur and her heart rate is too fast right now. If she were crawling or trying to walk the heart would be more active but she’s not involved with any activity right now. It shouldn’t be this fast.” He walked out of the room and I held Mia close to me. What could possibly be wrong?

  “Can I hold her?” Emily asked, trying to wrangle Mia from my arms. I asked Emily to sit on a chair and handed Mia to her. She wrapped her arms around her as if she were carrying a load of firewood. We sat in the room for several minutes before the doctor came to see us.

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Andrews,” he said, extending his hand to me. He looked too young to be a doctor.

  “We’re waiting for Dr. Wanschu,” I said, assuming he had the wrong room.

  “He’s unable to be here today,” the doctor said, taking a seat in front of Emily and Mia. “He seems to have caught some sort of virus.” First Sandra’s son and now the doctor. “Well, what’s wrong with your little sister?” Dr. Andrews asked Emily. I opened my mouth to explain the situation but Emily beat me to it.

  “She’s not my sister.”

  “She’s not?” the doctor asked, surprised. “Well, I just assumed she was because she’s just as pretty as you and looks a lot like your mommy.”

  I groaned inside but still couldn’t get the words out fast enough. Mia was slipping from Emily’s lap and I picked her up.

  “She’s not my mom,” Emily said, looking around me. “My mom died.” Dr. Andrews looked at her.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said. “My mom died when I was a little boy.”

  “Were you sad?” Emily asked.

  “Yes. I was very sad.”

  “Did you cry?”

  “I cried a lot.”

  She looked down at her shoes and thought for a moment. “Do you still cry?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Emily stood and put her arms around Dr. Andrews’s neck. She was comforting him. I knew then why Emily was supposed to go to the hospital with me. She sat back down in her seat and reached for Mia.

  “I’m Patricia,” I said, handing Mia to Emily. “I’m a social worker and—”

  “I realize that now,” Dr. Andrews said. “I’m sorry. It’s here on the chart and I should have read through it when I came into the room.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, recalling Emily’s hug around his neck. He put Mia on the examining table and she began to cry. I watched as he worked with her, making her laugh as he ran his stethoscope over her chest and back. He was a good doctor. Emily stood close to his side and watched every move he made. When he finished his exam Emily reached her arms for Mia and Dr. Andrews handed Mia to her.

  “Do you know if she’s ever seen a cardiologist?” he asked.

  “I do
n’t know but I doubt it.” He was careful as he chose his words because Emily was in the room.

  “How long has she been in the foster system?”

  “We just took her to a home on Friday. The foster mother was concerned about her breathing this morning.”

  He nodded. “I don’t think this is the first time Mia’s exhibited these symptoms but I do think you got her to us in time.” I wondered what would have happened to Mia if her mother had left her alone for another fifteen hours?

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She has a condition that’s called incessant atrial tachycardia.”

  “The other doctor said she had a murmur.”

  “A murmur is part of it. People can live their whole lives with a murmur. But when I put my hand on Mia’s chest I can feel the force of the heart striking the chest and when I listen I can hear an additional sound when the heart beats. A gallop.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s an abnormal beat caused by an enlarged heart. That’s why she’s been sleeping so much but still seems tired and out of breath.”

  I put my hand on Mia’s head. She was poking Emily and laughing. Mia had no idea she was so sick.

  “What does all that mean?”

  Dr. Andrews leaned against the examining table and crossed his arms. “We need to set her up in a step-down unit of the ICU for an electrophysiology study. That’s a test where we’ll put catheters into the heart that will deliver electrical impulses so we can map where the abnormal heartbeat is coming from. Once we determine where the abnormal beat is we’ll use one of the catheters to deliver a short controlled ‘burn’ to the heart tissue to eliminate the source of the irregular heartbeat.” I looked down at Mia in Emily’s arms. She was so tiny. How could her heart take all of that?

  “Is it surgery?”

  “It’s not considered surgery but it’s equally dramatic. If she didn’t have this procedure her heart would continue to deteriorate.” He stopped, looking at Emily.