by Lynn Donovan
Christmas Grace, Signing Seeds
by Lynn Donovan
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
CHRISTMAS GRACE, SIGNING SEEDS
Copyright © 2014 LYNN DONOVAN
ISBN 978-1-62135-355-3
Cover Art Designed by CORA DESIGNS
This story is dedicated to my daughter,
Emily and her beautiful daughter, Crimson Grace.
You two inspired this story
and I love you with all my heart.
Chapter One
Grace Avery jerked awake, but she dared not move.
There it was again. A rattling noise. Was it the house? A howling wind ripped through the eaves and shook the window frames of their restored Victorian home. Winter was bullying out autumn.
A shiver scurried down her back. She tucked her arm under the covers and listened. The rattle that woke her was rhythmic and repetitive. It wasn’t the wind. It was Chris, and he sounded worse this morning.
She turned over and laid her hand on his shoulder. His skin felt cool and clammy to the touch. She scooted closer to spoon with his fragile frame. Long streamers of dawn’s rays reached through the gray-blue linen curtains and illuminated a violet hue across his already pallid skin. She pulled their sheets up over his shoulder and considered getting him another blanket.
The house creaked and moaned, the structure’s unique chatter announcing the change in weather. Before, she enjoyed these sounds, the change in the seasons, but now they only brought a sensation of concern for Chris. The chemo treatments had depleted his immune system, and she feared this winter would be rough on him. The frustrating irony of the cure. The testicular cancer hadn’t killed him, but these chemo treatments sure had brought him closer to death than she ever thought possible. If it weren’t for his valiant will to live, she didn’t know—
No. She wouldn’t think like that. He had something to live for. Something he had been longing for since they were first married. And she was doing everything possible to make the dream a reality. No matter how much she hated the fertility procedures, she went faithfully and did everything Dr. G told her to do. It was just a matter of time. Deep in her heart, she knew this was what kept Chris fighting death’s calling. Their one unclaimed victory—a baby.
Was it only a year ago Chris had appeared to be in robust health? He was Head Engineer of his department. Zilker Electronics’ stocks were soaring because of the profitable contracts he had procured. The Board of Directors rewarded him with a staggering bonus last Christmas. They were living “high on the hog,” as her mother put it.
It had been four years since they had begun this trek, trying to conceive. But conception had eluded them. It was frustrating. Still, they clung to high expectations for positive results. Well, Chris had high expectations. He was the optimist. She was the worrier.
She had good reason to worry. Had she caused her fertility problems? For the first five years of their marriage, a baby was the last thing she wanted. It had always been Chris who hinted at starting a family. She was a freelance writer and worked from home. It would have been an easy transition to have a baby and still work. But, the thing was—she was happy without a child.
Casual observance of their friends convinced her. Her fears were valid. Every aspect of their friends’ lives had become consumed with their children. Yet they seemed exhausted and miserable. Their marriages suffered and so did their careers.
Her marriage had been perfect. She and Chris loved each other more every day. She still felt like a honeymooner. She didn’t want to lose this amazing relationship she had with him, so she took every precaution, even doubled up on the birth control methods. No unplanned pregnancy would ruin her marriage or her happy life.
Then one day, something just…changed. Perhaps it had been her twenty-seventh birthday. Maybe an internal timer going off, who knows? But that day her heart opened and she saw the possibility in a whole new way. She no longer focused on her wants. It was like she had stepped into a room, an ordinary, familiar room, but now the lighting was so much brighter. She could see everything at once. The light filled the room like her love for Chris filled her heart. It completely saturated her being and there was nothing she wanted more than to make him happy. Instead of wanting to receive gifts from him, she wanted to give one to him.
She gift wrapped an unopened home pregnancy test kit and presented it to him during the birthday dinner of buttered lobster tail and Caesar salad he had prepared for her. Before he opened it, she explained her desire to show her love by giving him something he had wanted for a long time.
Tears filled his eyes, and a smile lit up his face. His reaction was everything she’d hoped. For the first time in their marriage, they were one in the goal to make a family. She stopped all preventive measures. Even started taking maternity vitamins and watching her diet carefully. Only nutritious meals for her, no caffeine, no fatty meats, zero sugar. She was now eating for two, or, at least, trying to eat for two.
She lost weight and her cholesterol count went down—but no baby. Had she caused the problem by being so determined not to get pregnant?
Three years later, they celebrated their ninth anniversary cuddled up in a lovely ocean-front hotel in Hawaii. Their room opened onto a beautiful teak-wood veranda. A path led to the beach. However, their feet never touched sand. The joke was, if they conceived a child on this vacation, they would name it something Polynesian, like Alohanani, which means Beautiful Love, and call her Nani.
But a child was not conceived. Not then. Not now.
They had the means to seek professional help. And Dr. Thomas Gunnison was one of the best in his field. He and his wife, Kim-Ly, belonged to their church. They were praying practitioners, as Dr. G liked to say. He, too, had high expectations. It was just a matter of time, he had told her, so she believed it would happen. Nevertheless, she worried.
From the night of her twenty-seventh birthday, all she ever thought about was a baby. She’d even bought a few little items—booties, pacifiers, and the cutest bibs—as clever gifts to announce the good news to his and her mom, and her sister.
If the good news ever came.
Then one innocent, fateful day, a routine visit to Chris’s doctor set their world on its edge. It was his annual check-up. It was nothing. He was thirty-four years old and in peak health. Neither of them expected anything significant from this office visit. In fact, she’d had deadlines and had not gone with him. Why hadn’t she gone with him? Why didn’t her female radar alert her? Was she so self-absorbed she didn’t even hear the instinctive warnings? She would never forgive herself for that.
A pea-sized lump, a biopsy, and the horrible diagnosis—Cancer. She didn’t even know he was having the procedure until he had come home and told her the results. At first, she was mad at him for not telling her. How could he keep such a thing from her? But it was just like him. His faith was so strong. With tear-filled eyes he told her, “Baby, I never expected to have to tell you anything at all. I just knew God would heal me, and the whole thing would be over before the biopsy was performed.”
Had she failed her husband? How could God let this happen? Chris was too young. They
were on top of their world. They were trying to have a baby, for goodness sake.
Even with the terrifying test results, his faith never wavered. “Cancer is a lie, manufactured by the devil. I do not accept it,” he had told her over and over again. She wanted to believe he was right. He was such a wonderful man. Of course God would cure him. They were active in church, Chris was a prayer warrior during altar calls, and she was a member of the Praise and Worship Team.
Besides, there was a baby waiting to be conceived.
It always came back to the baby. The promise. How could God introduce such a devastating turn of events? It had to be a test, a valley. They would get through this and come out stronger for having been through it. She had been too arrogant. She hadn’t appreciated all they had with the appropriate humility. It was her fault. She should have read the Bible more consistently and attended prayer services more frequently.
Now, lying in bed with her husband struggling to survive, she wondered if God even knew they existed.
Chris’s golden-blonde hair clung to his moist forehead. Although he slept, she longed to touch him. She reached out and gently moved the rogue curl, and laid the back of her hand against his cheek. At least there was no fever. She inhaled slowly, relieved.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, although his eyes didn’t open. He was awake.
“Sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t mean to disturb him. Yet, she was glad to see him respond to her.
“S-okay,” he said with a croak, struggling to clear his throat.
She reached across him and held the daisy-print water glass, with a crimped straw for easier drinking while lying down, to his lips. He sipped, but cringed as he swallowed and pressed his head into his pillow to pull away from the straw.
She bit her lip and stymied the tears. Lord, please help him survive this.
The old habit of prayer was hard to break.
She padded downstairs to make coffee. While it brewed, she opened the bagels, spread one with cream cheese and set it on a cobalt-blue dessert plate for herself. Chris wouldn’t eat breakfast. She’d pour him an Ensure and pray he could drink at least half. She filled her coffee cup and scanned the calendar on the refrigerator held by a smiley-face magnet. She had three appointments—Dr. Gunnison, lunch with her sister, Faith, and then a meeting with Pastor Barbara Patterson.
Hopefully Chris would be able to go with her to the doctor’s appointment. His presence made the artificial insemination feel less, well, artificial. But lately, he’d been too weak. If it wasn’t for him, she’d blow the whole thing off. But this meant the world to him. She felt it was his way of standing toe to toe with the devil and proving he would not give in. He would beat this cancer. He would live. And they would have a baby.
If nothing else, it was her way of giving him something to fight for. As if he needed an incentive. His faith was so much stronger than hers. She envied him for his blind trust in God despite all the obvious signs to the contrary.
Then, there was lunch with her younger sister. She looked forward to spending time with Faith. Their mother named her correctly. Like Chris, her faith in God was so strong, it revived Grace to talk with her, especially now while she struggled with so much anger at Chris’s suffering.
But Pastor Barbara, she dreaded. For no other reason than she dreaded what she needed to tell her. She loved her Praise and Worship leader. She loved being on the team, silently interpreting the songs with sign language. It blessed her. It blessed the congregation. It was her gift to them and to God. But with Chris so ill, she had to quit. Could she stick to her commitment? Saying no had always been hard for her. She lifted her chin. She could say no. For Chris.
She swallowed her last bite of bagel and emptied her coffee cup. If Chris wasn’t up to going with her to the doctor today, then at least she would spend some time snuggling with him. She returned to their marriage bed and drew herself up as close as possible to the man she loved with all her heart. This had become their love making. She sighed peacefully.
He moved his arm to draw her onto his shoulder and she lifted her head to lie on his chest. He felt so fragile. But she lingered in his embrace, remembering the expression of love they had shared only a year ago before the cancer and the chemo.
“You smell good.” His words were carried by his exhaled breath, like a small leaf is carried by a gentle breeze.
Smells overpowered him. The scentless shampoo and bath soap she now used, he found appealing. How ironic. It was a little thing she did to help him be more comfortable. A sardonic smile curved her lips. “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he murmured.
“Not true.”
“Is too.”
She giggled. She never won this argument. “How you feeling?”
He drew an erratic breath. As he exhaled he said, “Tired.”
“I have an appointment with Dr. G today.” She paused for his reaction.
He kissed her head. “Good.” He swallowed hard. “This one will take.”
“You think so?” She gazed into his tired eyes.
“Uh-huh.” His eyes closed, and his breathing slowed. He’d fallen back asleep.
She sighed and closed her eyes. She’d be going alone, but for now, she’d lie with him a few more minutes. Then she had to get going.
Chapter Two
Her sister waved when Grace stepped out of the car. Faith was always early. She had been seated at an outdoor table, and two iced teas were already delivered, waiting for Grace. The noon-day sun had stifled the morning gale. A pleasant, cool breeze had replaced the early chill. Sweater weather, their mother called it.
How you. Grace used the choppy syntax of American Sign Language to communicate with her deaf sister.
Fine. Mom sends her love.
Love her, too. You order?
No. Waiting you. Faith’s uplifted eyebrows and sarcastic smile said so much more. She had always been impatient.
Grace nodded and snickered to herself. If her sister wouldn’t arrive so early, she wouldn’t have to wait for her to come on time. But this was her sister’s quirk. There were worse things between sisters. She picked up the menu and let her eyes rove over the graphics. The list of options was just pictures and words. Her mind was on the solitary insemination procedure she had just experienced.
The darkened room and softened voices didn’t compensate for the cold instruments, cold stirrups, and cold table. She tried to visualize Chris, his loving face in front of hers, his tender lips pressing against her lips, his warm, strong arms wrapped around her. But it was a delicate bubble that popped too easily. The sterile procedure was uncomfortable, painful even. And no matter how hard she tried to meditate to bring herself into his loving embrace, it was a stark room with Dr. G and Kim-Ly whispering to one another, while she lay spread-eagled under a crinkly paper gown and rough sheet.
She certainly hated going alone, but after four years of trying the “old fashioned way, “ this had become the only option. When Chris learned he had cancer, he immediately had Dr. G bank his seed. Somehow he knew he’d be too weak in the near future, and their next step would include frozen cells and petri dishes.
Chris had been right; before no time, he was too frail. Their intimacy consisted of snuggles and whispers, which was wonderful, but it wouldn’t get her pregnant. Like this morning, even snuggling taxed his strength. Sure, she still wanted a child, but since he had become so sick, the important thing to her was keeping him alive. He was her world. She would do whatever it took to ensure his happiness.
Faith poked Grace’s menu, bringing her out of her morose thoughts. Grace peeked around the laminated board at her sister.
You want order? Or just reading? Her sister signed and mumbled a mono-toned effort to speak.
Sorry. Grace signed.
A stray cat meandered along the sculptured, metal fence separating the restaurant from the sidewalk. Grace frowned. The cat’s bulging mid-section indicated even she would soon be a mother. Perhaps
Grace would drop a few pieces of her food before she left. Produce good karma. She shook her head. Was she seriously jealous of a stray cat?
Saw Doctor G today. She signed, wanting to get her mind on something else, but what else was there to talk about?
Wow. You pregnant?
No. Not yet. You silly. They laughed.
A young waitress stepped up to their table. Her long, dark hair, olive skin, and almond-shaped eyes indicated a Filipino lineage. Cedar Grove, Texas had a large population of Filipino students due to the Army Reserve Base just outside of town. Grace lifted a pleasant expression toward her. The waitress’s apron bulged from a baby bump, and there was no ring on her left hand.
How could this child possibly support herself and a baby? It wasn’t fair. Here Grace was, financially secure, married for years, emotionally and physically ready to have a baby, but couldn’t get pregnant. While this teenager was carrying an unplanned, unexpected, maybe even unwanted little one. Grace gritted her teeth as tears stung her eyes.
The girl asked for their orders, startling Grace from her self-absorbed tantrum. Her eyes flew open. She stared at the girl’s cheerful expression. “Oh, um. She’ll have the deluxe club sandwich.” Grace gestured toward her sister. Heat flushed her face. Thankful the gal couldn’t read minds. She resisted the urge to cover her cheeks either with the menu or her hands.
Faith grunted and nodded. Even her grunt had a mono-tone sound to it.
The waitress’s brows came together as her eyes fluttered up toward Faith.
“And I’ll have the Reuben.”
The waitress stared with a nervous smile at Faith as if she wasn’t sure how to address her and thanked Grace.
She forced a smile as the waitress left, but she didn’t feel amiable toward her. The girl had what she wanted desperately.
Faith tapped her forearm. You still want baby? She signed as she nodded.