by C. S. Lakin
Reuben wiped his eyes and Joe pushed the tissue box across the desk toward him. Reuben nodded thanks and took a tissue, blew his nose.
Joe sucked in a breath, hardened his heart, his face. “Well, to be honest, there’s not a whole lot I can do. There are only so many people willing to be live donors and only so many kidneys that can be used from dead donors, and as you are probably aware, the best match is often a compatible family member. Our waiting list runs about two years, but sometimes you get lucky. However, I don’t want to get your hopes up, and I’m sorry you’ve come all this way, but there’s really nothing I can do—”
Joe stood, hating to say those words, yet feeling a buzz of satisfaction watching their need turn to desperation.
“Please,” Reuben pleaded, dropping his head, almost in prayer as he sat before Joe. His other two brothers likewise leaned toward him in supplication, bowing their heads to him.
Joe startled, grabbed the desk once more, as his childhood dreams burst into his head, Joe standing on his chair in the kitchen, waving his spoon, declaring how he was the brightest star in the sky, and the moon and three other stars came before him . . . and bowed at his feet! And then he was standing on the hill at Disneyland, the tallest mountain in the world, with his brothers as mountains in obeisance. Now, here his brothers were prostrate before him, not in worshipful adoration but pleading for him to save Ben’s life. He stood unblinking, marveling at the clarity of those dreams he had long forgotten.
Reuben reached into a carry bag at his side and pulled out a thick folder. “Please take a look at this. This is Ben’s chart, all his medical information. We’ve come all this way—”
Simon whispered. “Look, we’ll pay you. Whatever amount—”
Joe humphed in a brusque manner, worked at sounding insensitive, ready to dismiss them and see his next appointment. He looked at his watch and sighed, feigned irritation. Swallowed down tears starting to build. “Give me a minute.”
He strode out the door toward the reception area, shooed away the gal working the phones and sat at her desk, behind the frosted glass where none of the patients in the waiting area could see him. He depressed the button on the intercom, leaned his ear close to the speaker, and heard Levi speaking.
“I told you, but you wouldn’t listen to me. God is punishing us because of what we did.”
“Come on, Levi,” Simon said, “this has nothing to do with Joey.”
“It does! I know it in my heart. We saw how distressed he was, when he pleaded with us for his life, but we wouldn’t listen, and you refused to take him back—”
“Levi, shut up!”
Reuben then spoke. “This never goes away, does it? It will haunt us the rest of our lives, what we did.”
Levi added, “This is hopeless.”
Joe heard Levi break into sobs and his own heart clenched in pain. He wiped tears from his face as he heard Reuben say, “Didn’t I tell you not to hurt Joey? To leave him alone and trust that it would all work itself out? But you two had to rush off in a panic; you wouldn’t listen, and now we’re paying for it.”
Joe couldn’t take anymore. He wiped his face, strode back into the room. His brothers jumped to their feet, their faces downcast, void of hope.
Joe spoke in his flat professional tone. “I’d like to see your brother. Monday.”
Reuben raised his arms. “Why? The trip might be too hard on him. And if all you’re going to do is talk to him—”
“If you want my help to save your brother’s life, then he needs to be here. Monday morning, eight a.m. Will you do this?”
Reuben looked at Simon and Levi. “I’ll go get him, fly back with him. You guys stay here.”
“There’s no reason,” Joe said. “You may as well all go home.”
“No, we’ll stay,” Levi insisted. “We want to help, give Ben some support.”
Joe nodded. “Fine. But I don’t need to see any of you. Just bring Ben to admittance downstairs for some tests. I’ll make sure the results are pushed through so they get on my desk Monday afternoon.”
“He’s already had plenty of tests. Surely you could call his doctor if—”
“We have our procedures here. And we need a fresh blood sample. Now, I have other patients to see. Good day, gentlemen.”
Joe ushered his brothers toward the door, gestured them out. They said their brief thanks and good-byes and Joe closed the door behind him, felt his knees give way. He locked the door and slid to the carpet, his whole body shaking as if he’d stumbled out of a car wreck.
He closed his eyes, glad he’d had the foresight to cancel the rest of his Friday appointments. He’d had a hunch he’d be in no shape to see or speak to anyone after his encounter with his one o’clock appointment. Oh, how right he’d been.
June 13
“Dad, I’ll be responsible for him, and I promise to bring him back safely.” Reuben scooted his chair closer to the kitchen table, ignoring the coffee Jake had poured for him.
Jake kept shaking his head, couldn’t bear to think of Ben making such a trip, not after the way Ben looked today, so sickly Jake could barely get him into the car to make his dialysis appointment. He knew he sounded whiny but he couldn’t help himself. The grief was too much.
“I won’t let him go with you. Joseph is dead, and Ben is all I have left. If anything happens to him on your trip, you would send this grieving, white-haired man to his grave.”
Reuben laid a hand on his dad’s wrist. “Nothing will happen to him. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really believe they’ll be able to help Ben.”
“You said the doctor was gruff, practically pushed you out the door.”
“I know. But look how he scheduled Ben right in—first thing Monday. We can’t pass up this chance.”
“Just to take more tests. He doesn’t need more tests—he needs a kidney.”
Jake turned at Dinah’s voice, her coming out from Ben’s room after making him comfortable. “We’re out of options, Dad.” She strode into the kitchen and took a seat next to Reuben. “Let them go. The doctor gave us some drugs that will help Ben travel. It’s not that long a flight, and we’ll schedule an ambulance to pick him up at the gate and take him directly to the hospital. I’ve already arranged for Ben to spend Sunday night as an in-patient, so if there’s any problem at all, he’ll be right there, with the best doctors and nurses to care for him.”
“Wow,” Reuben said to her, “you are really on the ball.” He turned and looked at Jake. “See, Dad, it’ll be okay.”
“I’ll have him packed, everything ready to go tomorrow. What time will you be by to pick him up?” Dinah asked Reuben.
“Noon or thereabouts. Can you take us to the airport so I don’t have to park the car?”
“Of course! Then I should just pick you up, okay?”
Reuben stood and hugged Dinah. “Thanks, sis. Dad, I need to get back home and repack. Who knows how long I’ll be gone this time.”
“Hey, I’ll walk you out,” Dinah said. “I want to make sure you know how to handle Ben, what he needs on the plane, all that.”
Reuben put his arm around Jake and gave him a strong hug. “I love you, Dad. Don’t worry, okay? You worry too much. I have a feeling everything’s going to work out just fine.”
Jake managed a smile, felt his heart start to clench up, but he wasn’t sure if it was his angina or just his love swelling for his son. “I love you too, Rube.”
He wanted to say so much more but his son was already out the kitchen and off home before he could form the words in his head. “I wish . . . I wish I’d been a better father, spent more time with you, listened to you more.” He sat at the table thinking how hard it was to be a parent, how easy to look back and see how you would have done so many things differently, better, paid more attention. He had fumbled his way through raising his kids, so overwhelmed by the responsibilities, letting circumstances fling him around, distract him from what was important. Why did it take a whole lifetime
to learn the truths and insights needed years ago? If only he had known then what he knew now, maybe he could have prevented so much—prevented Rachel’s death by hiring in a full-time nurse to care for her those last months of her pregnancy. Maybe prevented the whole awful incident with Shane if he’d only looked harder and seen Dinah’s pain, asked more questions and drew her out. He could have gone to the police himself, before Levi and Simon took matters into their own hands.
And Joseph. Maybe if he’d shown his other children the love and devotion he showed his precious Joseph, their hatred for their younger brother wouldn’t have festered. Not that it would have saved him from his horrible death. He’d stopped blaming his boys for that, stopped blaming himself. He didn’t even blame God anymore—just figured it was the result of bad luck and circumstance. Tragedy like this happened to just about everyone at some point in their lives.
But now with Ben . . .
Jake knew if he lost Ben, he would not be able to stand it. His weak heart would give out. Not that he really cared about his own life; if Ben died, he would prefer to die with him and not have to endure the grief. He couldn’t endure the horror of it, just couldn’t.
The image of Ben lying dead in a coffin made Jake cry out, and he fell to the floor, put his forehead on the cool linoleum.
“God,” he whimpered, “if you hear me, if you care, please, please, don’t let Ben die. Take my life instead, but spare him!”
Jake hadn’t prayed in years, didn’t even know why he was bothering, but a desperate need to cry out to someone gripped him. A flood of words came out, and he begged and pleaded, but this time keenly aware God was listening, Jake sensing his presence filling the small room. With that awareness, Jake found himself unable to stop baring his soul, and as he told God all his fears and disappointments, admitted his failures and anguish, his pain over losing Rachel and Joseph, he felt his distress emptying out of him, his heart like a river rushing into the sea, eagerly accepting his tears and cries, like an ocean that always thirsted for more but was never filled.
God was taking his pain and misery and regret and self-condemnation. Jake felt it, felt it all leak out of his body, a feeling so strange. Always before when he grieved, he only felt worse, as if letting it all out only amplified the pain. Made it hurt more than ever, opened the wound. Never before had he felt this—something akin to healing, comfort.
Shaky and shaken, Jake sat up on his knees, wiped his face. The house was oddly quiet. The kitchen clock ticked on the wall; the refrigerator hummed. Then God spoke.
He didn’t hear it as a voice, as words, not even as his own thoughts in his head. He heard it as an emotion, the way he’d sensed it oh so long ago in Rachel’s garden. Words of love, of embrace, of refuge and safety. A soothing blanket covered him, like arms wrapped around his soul. Arms that held him in understanding, compassion. That ached as he ached, the way Jake had often felt when holding his children, back when they were young and upset about something. The way Jake had felt only minutes before as he hugged Reuben, forever in his mind his young little boy, his firstborn. These were the arms Jake needed so desperately, encircling and sheltering him, arms he’d hoped his father would offer him each and every day of his childhood, but were never forthcoming. A father’s love, unconditional love.
Jake looked up at the kitchen ceiling. “Why? Why now? Why are you always so far away where I can’t find you?” He resisted, didn’t want to give in, surrender. He’d surrendered before—and then Rachel had died. He spent untold years wrestling a silent God, pleading to a silent heaven. Jake could not go through this yet again.
He tried to struggle against the embrace, but it held him fast. And the more he struggled the more God hung on. Jake didn’t understand—how God could be so tenacious, love him with a steadfast love, as if God was now wrestling with him, refusing to let go, the tables turned.
Other words spoke in his head. “I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have and always will love you, Jake.” These were a father’s words, not of Isaac Abrams—a flawed, hurting human—but the words of the one who knew him entirely, knew all his faults and failures, saw every bad choice and heard every unspoken thought, yet still welcomed him with those open, nonjudgmental arms. Jake had tried to love his children, but he now understood that no human could come close to wielding love this pure, his only a pathetic attempt that fell so short.
He could fight it no longer, his need strangling his fears—the old fears of rejection and hurt and humiliation he associated with the word father. This is what he had been yearning for his entire life, he now knew. What he had been searching for unknowingly. Rachel had been right, Jake remembering their anniversary dinner, her telling him God created us to need him, so that we would search for him until we found him. This was the longing for home he often pondered about—not a place, no. Home was a person. A person who stood waiting with outstretched arms. Only in those arms could one have a sense of belonging.
“Dad?”
Jake turned his head, saw Dinah standing in the doorway to the kitchen, curious but not alarmed. He got to his feet.
“Did you fall? Are you okay?” She came over to him, steadied him with her hands.
He felt like saying, “I did fall, but I am okay. I am now.” He had fallen so far, didn’t even know when he’d landed at the bottom of this pit, but he had been rescued, brought up the deep dark shaft to the light of day. Instead he said, “I was just praying.”
“Praying?” They both let the word hang between them.
Dinah smiled, must have seen something on his face. “I’ve been praying too. You know what God is telling me?”
“What?’ Jake asked, letting Dinah lead him into the living room, to the couch. His legs were surprisingly strong and his heart calm.
“That he has a plan to save Ben. Isn’t that what Joey used to say?”
Jake nodded, felt an affirmation in the very core of his spirit, a strange knowing feeling. “Yes, he did. That God had a plan all along, from the start, even before Ben was born.”
Dinah put her hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes. “Then let’s be brave and trust him, for a miracle.”
Jake could only nod, the love swirling around him, in him, this love from God, from his daughter, his own love for her, for Ben, for all his children. A wondrous whirlpool of love.
“I’ll make us some lunch, okay?” she said. “Just relax. Everything’s going to work out fine.”
How many times had he heard Dinah say that? Perhaps a hundred times over the years. But today was different. Today was the first time he agreed, believing it with all his heart.
June 15
Joe took a deep breath, then peered through the small glass window of the consulting room. They were all in there—Ben too, although he was sitting with his back to him. Joe had peeked in on him last night, while he slept in his hospital bed, Ben never waking, giving Joe a chance to sit beside his little brother, looking small and vulnerable tucked in covers in the elevated bed. Seeing him so close, in such dire need—Ben now an adult in his twenties, no longer ten years old—took some adjusting, but that’s why Joe had gone to see him. He knew he couldn’t wait until today, until this meeting, to face Ben. One look and his heart would shatter. So he’d sat there, an hour or two, and just watched him sleep, studied his face, let the memories carry him down a long turbulent river of sadness and pain, the rapids both jarring and comforting him.
He paced outside the door, finally spotted the nurse walking toward him, holding the chart. He thanked her, relieved he had gotten it in time, had the chance to look at the results before going into that room. He closed his eyes and prayed, prayed with all his heart but also knowing that if the tests showed he was not the perfect match for Ben then God would provide a way, a proverbial ram in the thicket. He had a plan, Joe knew this, didn’t doubt it for a second. He only hoped, though, that God would give him this privilege . . .
Early this morning Joe had gone into the clinic, once they got
Ben’s blood sample in the lab, and had tests run on his own proteins, putting a rush on results that normally took about a week, not out of necessity but for procedural and paperwork processing, for the wait behind other tests with higher priorities. But there was no higher priority today, and Joe had made sure the lab techs knew he had to have the results in hand by four p.m. And now, at three minutes to four, Joe stood in the bright hallway, nurses and patients moving past him, a blur of motion as his eyes focused only on the chart in his hands.
Joe opened the cover of the folder and perused the chart, found the word he was looking for: negative. An audible cry of surprise and relief came out of his mouth, but he wasn’t surprised, not really. His compatible antigen cross-matching was just what he expected from God. Ben’s antibodies had not rejected Joe’s blood cells, and that meant Joe’s kidney could save Ben’s life.
He closed his eyes and prayed, thanking God with a gratitude too great to put into words. He wanted to dance around the building and whoop for joy, but he had a performance ahead of him, once that required him to maintain his professionalism and his façade. He blew out a breath, tried to relax his face, tone down his smile. He reminded himself that although he could expect his older brothers to be overjoyed with the good news of a kidney for Ben, they had once wanted him dead, and still thought him dead. How would they react when they learned he was alive? Surely they would be terrified and shocked. They had never really liked him, had they? Why should he think they would be happy to see him? Still, Joe reminded himself, this was not about him—it was about saving Ben. Even if his brothers still chose to hate him, he would live with that, leave their hearts in God’s hands.
The sensation of freedom sent his heart flying. Now he could reunite with his father, once this business was done. He could go home and see him, see Dinah! The thought of such a joyful reunion set his feet moving, and he opened the door and walked in to face his past and future, both colliding with each other, and Joe smack in the middle.