“Coming,” she called.
I felt numb. Not too numb to take care of Zach, though. I had lots to make up for.
Carrie brought the thermometer. Slipping it into his mouth, I hoped for the best. Temperatures that zoomed past 98.6 degrees always made me nervous.
We waited silently. The seconds crawled by until the thermometer finally beeped. I took it from Zach’s mouth. One hundred two degrees! Acting calmly, I placed the thermometer on the coffee table.
Zachary looked up at me with his watery, bloodshot eyes. “It’s high, isn’t it?”
“You have a fever,” I said, trying not to upset him. “And it’s past time for this.” I pulled the pill container out of my pocket.
Carrie hurried again to get a glass of water. “Here you go,” she said, returning.
We hovered over this frail seven-year-old as if he were our own sick little brother. Zach popped his pill like a pro. Then he sipped water as we watched.
“I’m hungry,” Carrie said.
I wondered if I shouldn’t give Mom a quick call at the hospital. Checking my watch, I realized they’d been gone less than an hour.
Carrie went to the kitchen and pulled out sandwich fixings and a can of soup. But I didn’t feel hungry. I helped Zach get settled on the couch in the living room again. His disease scared me silly. Aunt Marla had lost her fight with cancer last winter, and I’d used up a whole wad of tissues at her funeral. Now here was Zach with the same thing, and he was only seven years old.
The phone rang. I hurried to pick it up.
“Thank goodness it’s you,” I said quietly.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“It’s Zach. He has a fever and his glands are swollen way up.”
There was silence.
“Mom?”
“Just a minute, Holly.” Her voice sounded muffled, like she was talking to someone in the background. At last, she said, “We’ll be right home.” Mom said good-bye and hung up quickly.
This was worse than I thought.
Carrie made Zach a sandwich, but after a few bites he lost interest. Looking up at me through drooping eyes, he said, “Talk to Jesus for me, Holly.”
I knelt beside him at the couch and prayed. About his lumps, about his fever, and since I wasn’t sure if he knew about the cancer, I said, “Lord, help the pill to work in all the right places.”
Zach liked that. He smiled and faded off to sleep.
Dashing to my room, I took my secret prayer list out of hiding and curled up in my window seat. I wrote Zachary’s name at the very top. He was first. Before Daddy and before my summer plans. Before Danny Myers and everything else on the list.
“I’m ashamed, Lord,” I prayed. “I’m sorry for being so selfish. You know all about my summer and Daddy. If you want me to go, I know you’ll work it out, in your way and in your time. It’s up to you now. Amen.”
Whew! I suddenly felt fabulous deep down—knowing that I was trusting God to handle things. Besides, there was plenty to do in Dressel Hills this summer. Like getting Zach well. And working on having a better attitude toward Mr. Tate.
Hearing the front door open, I raced downstairs to meet Mom and Mr. Tate. They were leaning over Zach, who was still sound asleep on the living room couch. Mom whispered something to Zach’s dad, handing him a pad of paper to write on. Mr. Tate stared blankly at it, then went to the phone.
“Will Zach be all right?” I asked Mom.
“He’ll probably go back to the hospital,” she explained, hugging me close. Then, “How high was his fever?”
“One hundred two degrees,” I said.
“The doctor will want this information,” she said, jotting it down on a piece of paper.
Carrie came into the living room just then, looking very worried. “When’s my friend going to the hospital?”
Mom stared across the room at Mr. Tate. “Mike, uh, Mr. Tate will take him tonight as soon as he talks to the doctor on call.”
“Tonight?” Carrie asked.
Mom nodded.
“Is he worse?” I asked, eager to tell Mom I knew about the cancer.
Mom led Carrie and me into the kitchen. “Zachary’s in trouble,” she said. “He has leukemia, and his immune system is very weak. He’s picked up another flu bug, too, which is especially dangerous now.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” I asked.
“We didn’t want to frighten you. You had already lost your Aunt Marla to cancer and…” Her voice trailed off. I understood. She was afraid if we knew Zachary was dying, we might treat him differently. We might be afraid to get to know him. But now I wished I’d been told from the beginning.
I filled Mom’s favorite mug with water and slid it into the microwave oven. Right about now she needed some peppermint tea to help her get through. It was obvious how much she cared for Zachary…and his father.
Mom motioned for me to sit down at the bar. “I’ve been so busy with Zachary these past weeks that I’ve neglected both of you,” she said, looking at my sister and me. “Most of my so-called dates with Mike have been spent at his house tending to and comforting Zachary.”
“Why you, Mom?” I asked.
“I’ve become very fond of Zach,” she said, smoothing her hair back. “I want to make a difference in his life, if possible.”
“Then it’s not that you like Mr. Tate so much as a…a boyfriend?” I held my breath, hoping I was right.
“I didn’t say that,” Mom said softly.
Just then we heard Zach heading to the bathroom, moaning.
“Oh dear,” Mom said, rushing out of the room.
I wanted to put my fingers in my ears to block out the sounds of his sickness. Poor kid. Having severe nausea was worse than almost anything. I remembered being sick last winter, and how I’d rather die than vomit. But Zach had to live with it all the time. I shivered, thinking about it.
Mr. Tate was off the phone now. He went upstairs to Zach in the bathroom.
Carrie and I sat like stiff soldiers in the kitchen. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “Is…is Zachary gonna die?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said softly. “I hope not.”
After a while, the three of them came down. Mr. Tate carried Zach out to the car. Mom followed. Carrie and I stood on the porch, too scared to move.
Before they left, Mom came back and put her arms around us. “He’ll spend the night at the hospital here, then they’ll take him to the Denver Children’s Hospital in the morning.”
Dusk was falling fast. Twilight, Grandma Meredith called it. A faint smell of woodsmoke tinged the air. The mountains were dark against the red sky as twinkling lights showed up in one house, then another.
Looking at the lighted windows, I wondered how many other houses had sad, sick kids living in them. And how many of those kids and their parents knew God well enough to talk things over with Him.
SECRET SUMMER DREAMS
Chapter 11
“Time for pj’s,” Mom said as Carrie and I came into the house arm in arm. “Meet me in my room in five minutes.”
We raced to our rooms. Important stuff was going to be discussed tonight. I could feel it in the air. Slipping into my nightshirt, I wondered what Mom was going to tell us. I hoped it wasn’t something more about Mr. Tate. I was doing my best to accept him, but I needed time to get used to the idea of Mom having a serious boyfriend.
I dashed to Mom’s room, beating Carrie and claiming the spot on the bed nearest Mom.
Carrie dragged in her mermaid, the present from Mr. Tate. “Can we get Zach a stuffed Lightning McQueen to cheer him up?” she asked.
“Let’s find out if he has one first,” Mom said.
“He doesn’t; I know,” she insisted.
Mom had that faraway look in her eyes that means she’s planning things a zillion miles an hour. “Hand me my address book,” she said.
I reached for it on her nightstand.
She found the M’s and opened it,
holding the place with her finger. “I want you girls to listen carefully,” she said. “When I’m finished talking, then both of you will have a chance to ask questions.”
Just as I had guessed, this was important.
“If things go as planned, Mike, uh, Mr. Tate, will accompany Zachary to Denver. He’ll stay there with his son until he’s much better and ready to come home.”
Tears glistened in Mom’s eyes. This wasn’t easy for her.
She continued, “I’ll call Grandma Meredith tonight to see if she can get a plane out tomorrow. If she can come stay with you girls, then I’ll go to Denver for a week to be near Zachary.”
Flipping through her address book, she located another phone number. “Maybe I can stay with my old friend from grad school.
She and her husband live a few miles from the hospital.”
For some strange reason, I remembered Mom’s mug of tea still waiting for her in the kitchen. “Just a minute,” I said, getting off the bed and heading downstairs.
I removed the cup from the microwave. Still hot. Dipping the tea bag into the water, I stirred in a teaspoon of honey. Just the way she liked it.
Gingerly, I stepped up the stairs, the mug brimming with peppermint tea. It was the least I could do for my mother.
Carrie looked like she’d been crying when I returned. I wished she wouldn’t cry. All this was hard enough for Mom. “Do you have to go, Mommy?” Carrie asked.
Mom thanked me for the tea, then took a little sip. “I really don’t have to,” she said, sighing. “But I’d like to be there for Mike while Zachary is having treatment. And I hope my presence will help Zachary, too, in some way. He needs someone…a woman’s touch.”
She was probably thinking about him not having a mother, and wanting to fill that void. What she really meant to say was that he needed a mother’s touch.
“Holly, how do you feel about my going?” She touched my hand.
“I’m glad Zachary will have you there,” I said. “You have what he needs, Mom.”
My tears welled up again, and Mom wiped them away. “Come here, you angels.” She smothered us with hugs.
While Mom called her former college friend in Denver, Carrie and I sat on the bed, listening. Afterward, Mom let Carrie punch in Grandma’s phone number. She talked for a while, then it was my turn.
“Haven’t had a letter from you, Holly, for quite some time,” Grandma said.
“Sorry, Grandma. I’ve been real busy. But school’s out now, and I’ll have more time to write.”
“When are you coming to see us?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Here’s Mom.” I handed the phone to her. It was time for Mom to tell Grandma about the plan.
Shortly, we heard Mom say that Grandma would be delighted to come and stay with her beautiful granddaughters. Then Mom was silent for a long time. Grandma must have something else on her mind.
In the middle of the silence, Mom pointed to the door, which meant Carrie and I should exit and give her some privacy. “Shut the door,” she mouthed to us.
In the hallway, we stood, not breathing, trying to hear Mom’s side of the conversation.
Nothing.
“What do you think’s going on?” Carrie whispered.
“Let’s wait in my room,” I said. “See this?” I led her to my window seat—my heavy-duty thinking spot. “When life gets too hard to figure out, I sit here and talk to God. Sometimes I think first, then I pray. But telling Him everything is real important.”
“Like what kind of things?” Carrie asked, squeezing in beside me on the window seat.
“It’s different for everyone. Sometimes I pray about my school grades.”
“Does that help you get A’s?”
“Praying and doing my homework does.” I reached for a brush and began brushing, then braiding her hair. “But being close to God is the best part. I don’t always ask for things. Sometimes I just like to share with Him. It’s like talking to a good friend, the best friend in the whole world.”
“Like you and Andie?” she said.
“Closer than that.”
“My best friend is Zachary,” she said. “Tonight he told me that people think he’s dying, but he’s going to fool them.”
“I hope he does,” I said, standing up. “I wonder if Mom’s still on the phone.” I brushed my own hair, getting it ready for a lookalike braid with Carrie.
“I’ll go listen in the door crack.” She grinned.
Carrie headed down the hallway. I couldn’t help but peek around the corner and watch as she squatted near the door and put her ear to the crack. Her head bumped the door, making it squeak open. Carrie hurried back to me. “Mom said we should go to bed. She says we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“What do you think Grandma’s telling Mom?” I asked without waiting for Carrie’s reply. “Maybe catching up on family news?” I said, very curious at the long conversation. “Night, Carrie.”
She scampered off to her room.
I turned the light off and slipped under the sheets, propping Bearie-O up close to me in the darkness.
What was going on? I hoped Mom and Grandma weren’t talking about something concerning Grandpa’s health. That’s all we needed…more sick people in our lives.
Suddenly, I was hungry. Skipping supper was not my style. I went to search the kitchen for a snack. Peanut butter and crackers would do. And a glass of milk. There were celery and carrot sticks in the fridge, too. They’d be cold and crunchy. Perfect.
I turned the light off in the kitchen and sat at the bar, my eyes slowly getting used to the dim room. Goofey nuzzled his furry body against my bare legs. I reached down to pet his head. “You need some lovin’?” I asked.
He purred his answer.
“Come here, little one.” I picked him up and put him on my lap. He curled into a ball, relishing the late-night attention. “Mommy’s busy upstairs. You miss snuggling on her bed?”
Pur-r-r. Sure do, he seemed to say.
Curling up on Mom’s bed was a treat. When I was sad or sick, that’s where I wanted to be. One night I had slept with Mom all night. Carrie too. It was the night Daddy left.
The queen-size bed had been crowded. Carrie had insisted on bringing Goofey into the bed with all of us. I clung to Bearie-O all night, sobbing whenever I woke up. Mom got pushed to the edge when I had a bad dream, and Carrie’s knees were in my back. So Mom and I ended up sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags. I remembered snuggling next to her as Goofey purred his kitty song above us in Mom’s bed.
I was so hurt and confused. I loved Daddy and never thought anything could go wrong with his love for us.
Then, four whole years passed without seeing him. He didn’t even write, other than sending birthday or Christmas cards. And not until the day before my thirteenth birthday—at Aunt Marla’s funeral—did I see him again. He’d looked so handsome, too, wearing a navy blue suit. Saundra, his new wife, accompanied him as we rode together in the limo to the graveside service. Not exactly the perfect place for a girl to reunite and hang out with her longlost dad.
Saundra had worn bright-red lipstick and gloves. Something about her glamorous ways must’ve made Carrie say she wasn’t as sweet as Mom. But it’s hard to beat a mother who’s an angel. Not because she’s perfect or prettier than other mothers—even though, well, she is—but because her beauty is inside, too. No wonder Mr. Tate likes Mom so much.
And Zachary? How could he resist her love?
Goofey jumped off my lap as Mom padded down the stairs in her slippers. Quickly, I flicked on the kitchen light. She didn’t need to know I was sitting here in the dark, pondering my past. “Can’t you sleep?” she asked, stroking my braid.
“Just a little hungry.” I finished off the crackers and milk, hoping to hear about her long phone conversation.
Mom pulled out a barstool and sat. She lifted her hair off the back of her neck and held it there for a moment. “Holly-Heart, I have something to tell you. I’m sure you�
�ll be very happy.”
I leaned forward on my elbows. “What?”
She breathed deeply, like she wasn’t certain how she should say it. Then the words spilled out. “I’ve decided to let you go to California to visit your father.”
“Really?” Unbelievable!
“Yes,” she said. “But there are some conditions.”
I was all ears. I leaned forward, almost losing my balance.
“Grandma will arrive here tomorrow afternoon. Then, if it suits your father—she’s phoning him now—she’ll fly to California with you and Carrie on Monday and stay with you there for about two weeks.”
Carrie is going, too!
“Oh thanks, Mom.” I hugged her, feeling like a little kid inside.
“Thank you for changing your mind.”
“I knew how much you wanted to go. This just seemed to make sense, the timing…while I’m in Denver with Zachary.”
There had to be more to this. “Did Grandma help you decide?” I asked.
Mom’s laughter, warm and gentle, touched me. I was right; Grandma had lots to do with the decision. “You know me well, Holly-Heart. I feel much better about your going with Grandma there.”
“And Carrie?”
“Yes, and Carrie,” she said, with resolve. “You’ll watch out for your little sister, won’t you?”
“You know I will, Mom.”
The phone rang.
She got up and went to the desk in the corner of the kitchen. “Hello?” Mom said, answering the phone. “Yes?”
I watched her face.
“That sounds good. Holly is thrilled. Yes…she’s right here.” She turned to me. “It’s your father.”
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, not fully realizing all that had just happened.
“Looks like things are working out for you and Carrie to visit. We’re looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” I tried to picture myself at his big beach house. “I can’t wait.”
“I feel the same way,” he said. “And it’ll be wonderful seeing Grandma again, too. Maybe we should fly Grandpa out and have a family reunion.”
“Maybe Andie could come, too,” I said, joking.
“Who’s Andie?”
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