by Kim Watters
A cold nose nudged him underneath his hand and the wet ball dropped onto his lap. Noah noticed the little boy and his family’s attention had moved to the ducks at the lake. But that wasn’t what held his interest by the edge of the water.
“Look who’s feeding the ducks, Houston. Hannah and Dylan.” His office manager and her son sat on a colorful blue, white and green Mexican blanket by the bank, throwing breadcrumbs into the water. Houston whimpered and wriggled his tiny body in anticipation of another throw.
Noah obliged. Seeing Hannah and her son here threw him off guard. He knew he should walk over and say “hi,” but he didn’t want to intrude on their time together. The way they sat and talked reminded him that he and Jeremy used to do the same thing when Noah was home. Sometimes Michelle would join them, and the three of them would have a picnic on the postage-stamp grass area of their backyard, or climb a tree or play a quick game of croquet.
The special times. Things to be savored. Enjoyed. Like Hannah was doing. Creating memories for Dylan to carry with him his entire life, no matter what the outcome of Hannah’s surgery next week.
Fisting his hands, Noah bit down on his lip to keep his emotions in check. Hannah would be okay. She had to be. She needed to live. She needed a second chance.
Jeremy hadn’t been given one, but according to those unopened letters Noah received from the donor network, the four people who received Jeremy’s organs had. By signing those papers, he’d created the miracle other families needed. If Ruth told him the truth, the doctors had done all they could to save his son.
A cleansing tear dropped onto his hand. Jeremy’s life had even more meaning in death. And as long as Noah remembered Jeremy’s organs helped others to live, his son still lived.
Noah bowed his head. He hadn’t done this in years. He felt the need to do so now, but words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to say, how to reach out. He wasn’t ready to talk to God again. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive yet. But he was ready to start trying.
Present and car keys in hand Saturday afternoon, Ruth bumped into something solid and masculine on her way out her front door.
“Oh, sorry.” Confused, she gazed up. Who would be standing on the other side of her front door without knocking? Her heart wedged itself in her throat, constricting her ability to breathe. “Noah? Why are you here?”
A sad, yet hesitant expression crossed his face. “I came to make sure you made it home with your rental car and to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”
“Oh.” Ruth knew better than to get her hopes up. She sensed Noah still had a lot of things to sort out, but unless he asked, she’d remain silent. “Apology accepted.”
In his arms, Houston barked and tried to free himself of Noah’s grasp. Noah’s dog would make the kids at the hospital laugh with his antics. Ruth petted him on the head as she heard the neighbor’s cat growl from underneath the bush. She really wished that beast would take up residence somewhere else. “It’s good to see you again, too, buddy.”
“I also came by to talk to you.” Disappointment flared in his eyes. “But I see you’re ready to go somewhere.”
Noah’s hesitation changed her ability to remain unaffected by his charm. Ruth glanced at her watch. Her stomach flopped worse than if she’d just gotten off a roller coaster. “I’m on my way to a birthday party, but I still have a few minutes. Why don’t you come inside for a moment?”
“I don’t want to keep you.”
Ruth put a hand on his arm to stop him from leaving. “No. I’m here for you, Noah. As a friend. And friends don’t let others suffer without trying to help. Please come inside. I can be a little late. The kids are used to my crazy schedule.”
“Kids?” Noah followed her inside, Houston leading the way.
She motioned for Noah to sit on her couch while Houston took off to investigate the rest of her house. She took the seat opposite the coffee table on the matching oversized toffee-colored love seat, glad she’d had the foresight to straighten the room after she’d wrapped her gift. “Not my own kids. I’m a volunteer over at the Children’s Center in the hospital. It’s Marissa’s birthday today, and we’re throwing her a party.”
“It’s not right that kids have to spend their birthday in a hospital.”
To keep her hands busy, Ruth reached in her knitting basket and pulled out her really bad scarf. It looked no better than her other knitting project she kept in her duffel bag for the plane rides, but the click of the needles brought her a measure of comfort.
“There’s a lot of things that aren’t right or fair. But I try to make things better for those less fortunate. I love making those kids happy. Too bad I can’t say I love this.” She held up the uneven pink and purple long rectangular scarf.
“My mom’s taken up knitting, too. I hate to admit it, but she’s not much better than you. Please tell me you’re not actually going to make someone wear that thing?”
Ruth grinned at Noah. There was no way she’d send this monstrosity to her niece back in Wisconsin. She’d probably unravel it and start over again. “Sure. Come here, Houston. Here boy.”
Houston’s long nails clicked against the tile floor when he skittered to a stop. Ruth wound the scarf, needles and all, around his neck. “There. I think he likes it.”
Houston’s ears perked up and his tongue hung from his panting mouth as his attention bobbed between them. Noah’s chuckle joined hers. “Please take it off.”
“I know. It’s really awful. So how many awful things did your mom make you?”
Noah stilled for a moment, his expression growing somber. Ruth had crossed some invisible line, and she didn’t know how to take her words back even if she knew what it was.
“Not me. Jeremy.”
Silence lingered between them as Ruth unwound the scarf from Houston’s neck and set it back in the basket. This was the first time Noah had mentioned Jeremy. She could feel Noah’s pain as if it were her own. The agony of burying a child could bring even the proudest man or woman to their knees. Her parents had managed to keep things together because of their faith, and they had other children who needed them. Noah had no one. He also didn’t have any faith, and until he was willing to accept Him into his life, things wouldn’t change.
Sunlight filtered in through the open blinds and cast striped shadows across the distressed wood coffee table. On instinct, Ruth moved to sit next to Noah. She wound her arm through his and briefly rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your wife and son.”
A hesitant spark troubled Noah’s gaze. “Michelle was pregnant when she died.”
His mouth opened and then closed. He still needed to talk about whatever bothered him, but his pride stood in the way. What would it take for him to open up so she could help him?
“I’m very sorry about that, too.” Oh, Noah. He’d lost even more than she’d realized. Her voice softened and she stared up at Noah, willing him to speak what was on his mind. He needed to let go of the dark cloud hovering over him and talk more about his wife and son. But only when he was ready. His face filled her vision. Forget the friendship. In that instant, Ruth found herself falling in love. “I suspect you didn’t come back here to talk about our childhoods. What did you want to talk about, Noah?”
Noah stood, dislodging a disgruntled Houston. “It can wait. I’m sure you have to go.”
Ruth glanced at her watch again, surprised at how much time Noah’s visit had eaten. And yet, nothing had been resolved. Noah looked more troubled than when he’d walked through her front door. “It can’t wait. Come with me today. The kids will love Houston, and when you’re ready, we’ll take a break in the cafeteria and talk there.”
“Hi, Marissa. Happy birthday, honey.” Ruth enfolded the tiny girl in her arms as soon as Ruth entered the playroom.
Within seconds, the group of kids swallowed Ruth in their midst, leaving Noah with an excited Houston squirming in his arms standing on the fringes. He wasn’t so sure about this. Agreeing t
o come to the birthday party at the hospital was one thing, but he wasn’t prepared to deal with the memories it brought to the surface. His gaze skimmed the brightly painted park scene on the walls as his feet planted themselves on the dark green carpet. While the room contrasted against the stark white one where his son had died, the underlying smell of death and antiseptic remained.
He tightened his grip on Houston. Definitely not a good idea.
“Miss Ruthie, you made it.” The olive-skinned girl grinned and threw her arms around Ruth’s neck. “I knew you would. I just knew it.”
Noah watched Ruth settle herself on her knees in the midst of the children. On their level. Talking with them, not at them. Obviously, Ruth was more than just a volunteer in here. Another contradiction. Her sunny smile as she interacted with the sick children almost made him forget. Almost. But in the back of his mind, he remembered. Noah also remembered that he needed to talk to Ruth about Hannah’s illness.
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss your party for all the chocolate in the world.” Ruth pulled the skinny arms from around her neck. “And I’ve brought a special visitor today to help celebrate.”
Ruth stood and held out her hand to Noah. “Kids, I’d like you to meet Mr. Barton and his dog, Houston. Everyone say hello.”
“Hello, Mr. Barton. Houston.” A chorus of young voices answered as they welcomed him into their midst. Many hands reached out to pet his dog. Houston loved all the attention and tried to gain his freedom so he could play with all the children.
Noah tried to catch Ruth’s eye to see if he should put the dog on the carpet, but she was too caught up in listening to a story from one the young boys holding her hand. He glanced around the room, looking for an authority figure, but only came up with several smiling parents, and his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Murphy, cradling a young toddler in her arms. Was Mrs. Murphy a volunteer like Ruth or was the little girl her grandchild?
An uncomfortable weight settled across his heart. In the few brief conversations he’d had with the woman, the subject of family had never come up. He’d preferred it that way because then he wouldn’t have to get involved. He stared at the top of Ruth’s head again, among all the different shades of color from blond to red to black.
How had he allowed himself to become so selfish? Bile rose in his throat. He used to care. He had a reason to care.
“May I pet your dog?”
Noah angled his head to stare down at a small, solemn girl. Her long dark hair had been pulled to the sides in pigtails and tied with matching purple ribbons. Her big blue eyes gazed up at him in a disconcerting way before the girl’s attention swiveled to the tall brunette woman with the stylish short hair wearing scrubs that approached to his left. The girl’s face broke into a smile. “Mama, you’re here.”
“Of course, pumpkin. I snuck away for a few minutes to join in the fun.” The woman got on her knees and hugged her daughter before holding her at arm’s length. Then she straightened one of the ribbons and adjusted her hair. “How are you feeling today?”
“A little sleepy, but okay. I want to pet the dog though. Am I allowed?” The girl turned back to Noah. “Please?”
“I don’t see why not as long as it’s okay with his owner.”
The girl’s paleness contrasted with the woman’s lightly tanned skin. He also realized the carefully tended hair bound in pigtails was really a wig. Where was the child’s hair? No child should have to go through this. Noah’s heart continued to ache. He’d always known there were sick children in the world, but outside of Jeremy’s accident, he’d never had any experience with them. He’d always thought of them as nothing more than a face in a photograph. A flat image instead of a living, breathing person. Standing in this little girl’s presence gnawed at his selfishness.
Noah squatted like Ruth had done with the other children so he could be at eye level with the child. “Of course. Better yet, would you like to hold Houston?”
The girl nodded and held out her skinny arms. Her solemn expression disappeared again with a lick from Houston. Her giggles filled the cramped space between them. “Houston, you’re cute. Mama, can we get a dog when I get better?”
Noah stood again and watched the interaction between mother and child with interest. The uncertainty unnerved him. So did the woman’s obvious pain.
“Of course, pumpkin. When you get better. I’m Dr. Kennedy.” The woman held out her hand. “That’s my daughter, Kendall.”
“Noah Barton. Pleased to meet you. And Houston, of course.” Noah wondered what type of medicine she practiced.
“He’s such a cute dog. I haven’t seen my daughter react so positively in a while. Thanks for bringing him today.” Dr. Kennedy’s eyes misted, contradicting the strong woman he sensed she portrayed to the world.
“It wasn’t my idea. It was Ruth’s.” Noah almost put his arm around Ruth’s waist when she joined them. He stopped just in time. They weren’t a couple. Far from it. Because that would mean he’d have to care again. Put his heart out there. He just wasn’t ready. But the whole “friends” thing wasn’t working right now.
“Hi, Adrienne. It’s good to see you again. I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.” Ruth hugged the taller woman.
“Hi, Ruth. I know. This remission was shorter than the last. I’m at my wit’s end.”
“I’ll be there for you. Just let me know what I can do.”
“The dog was a start. Thanks. She’s happier than I’ve seen her since the new diagnosis. I just wish I had the time and energy to adopt one for home.” A frown crested the doctor’s forehead as she glanced at her watch. “I’ve only got a few more minutes left. I’d like to spend them with Kendall, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
After the doctor joined her daughter, and Houston was passed around between the children, Noah thrust his hands through his hair. God had obviously forsaken and abandoned these kids, too, by allowing the sickness and death. He didn’t care about them any more than He’d cared about Jeremy. Heaviness descended.
Noah’s fingers itched to caress Houston’s fur and feel his warmth, yet he couldn’t rip his dog from the arms of the children who obviously needed him.
“I really want to thank you for coming today. The kids are all in love with Houston. He’s really made their day.” Ruth stopped speaking. Her brow furrowed and concern flashed in her expressive green eyes. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. This must be too hard for you. Let me grab Houston so you can leave.”
“And miss the cake and presents? I’m fine. Really. What’s wrong with Kendall?” But Noah wasn’t fine. Far from it.
“Leukemia. What upsets Adrienne the most is she’s a pediatric doctor, yet she can’t help her own child.”
Noah’s lips pursed. He knew the feeling. The helplessness. The hopelessness. He’d stood vigil over his son’s hospital bed for two days. He’d prayed, he begged, he’d even threatened the Lord, but his son had been taken from him anyway. His fingers curled. He would not wish that on any one of the parents or grandparents in this room. “Can’t they do a bone marrow transplant?”
Ruth placed a hand on his arm. Even the warmth of her skin couldn’t chase away the cold seeping into his pores. “They haven’t found a match yet. And the chemo doesn’t look like it’s helping this time around, either.”
“What about the rest of them?”
“Our birthday girl, Marissa, is waiting for a heart. Every day she’s with us remains a blessing. Carlos, the little Hispanic boy by the bookshelves with the curly brown hair, has an autoimmune disorder. Jacob is recovering from another round of skin grafts, and the girl holding Houston right now, Gabby, is waiting for a kidney.”
Cancer? Burn victims? Transplants? Noah cringed. Especially at his last thought. Some of these patients and Hannah faced the same issue. How could God turn His back on his office manager and these innocent children?
The sound of laughter and barking erupted in the room as a staff member dressed
as a clown wearing big blue shoes stumbled into the play area with a large bunch of multicolored balloons. The person underneath the silly costume honked a long bicycle horn, which made Houston growl and bark even louder, much to the delight of the children.
Noah’s neighbor waved at him when their gazes met. He waved back. “What about the woman with the child in her arms in the rocking chair?”
“Mrs. Murphy’s granddaughter has AIDS. Her mother was a drug-addicted prostitute who’s serving time in prison right now.”
The emotion in Ruth’s voice and in her expression made his stomach churn. Sweat formed across his brow and under his arms. Breathing became difficult. He should get out of here, but his feet stayed planted to the carpet, almost as if they’d attached themselves to the fiber.
Ruth must have sensed his distress again. She wound her arm through his, her voice low and soothing. “This is too difficult for you. Please help yourself to a cup of coffee in the cafeteria. I’ll be down shortly.”
The shrill of Noah’s cell phone saved him from a response. He didn’t even really know why he was here anymore. Glad for the diversion, Noah flipped his phone open and answered. “Noah Barton speaking.”
After Ruth released her hold, Noah backed up so he could lean against the wall. He couldn’t shake the feelings inside him that she evoked. He should go, but he continued to watch her as he listened to the person from the alarm company on the other end of the line.
He shouldn’t stare.
His mother hadn’t raised him to be rude, but he couldn’t help himself. The more he learned about this woman, the more he wanted to throw the whole friendship thing out the window, and ask for more. “I’ll be right over to check things out. Thanks.” He flipped his phone shut.
“Ruth, the alarm is going off in my office. I need to go check it out.”
“Of course you do. Let me grab Houston for you.”