by Ruth Reid
Bo opened the cab door and Mattie sank into the backseat of the car, her ribs sore from breathing hard and her emotions raw from letting worst-case scenarios play over in her mind.
Bo directed the cab driver to go to the hospital, then shifted on the seat to face her. “Hold still,” he said, raising the moist cloth to her face. “You have some dirt smudged here.” He tipped her chin. “Are you crying?”
“That surprises you?” Her eyes watered as she spoke. Tears were something she couldn’t regulate lately.
“That was a stupid thing to ask, wasn’t it?” He wagged his head as if chiding himself.
“Why does the doctor want to see me? Has something changed with Nathan?”
“I told him about Amanda having chicken pox.”
“What? Mei boppli is sick?” Mattie clasped her hand over her mouth. Lord, this is too much. Amanda should be home with me.
“I meant to tell you the other day, but it slipped my mind. I’m sorry,” he said.
“You knew she was sick?”
“She’s doing all right, though. I did stop by the foster home to see her. I got her to eat.”
“She isn’t eating?” Mattie wrung her hands.
“Mattie,” he said, taking her hands into his. “Amanda is fine.”
“And I suppose next you’ll say I can trust you,” she scoffed.
His eyes pierced hers. “You can.”
Mattie freed her hands from his and averted her gaze out the window. She closed her eyes, picturing little Amanda covered in spots and crying for her mama. The poor child must feel abandoned.
Bo seemed to know she needed time alone with her thoughts. He remained silent until they reached the hospital. He didn’t speak to her until they were alone in the elevator. “I’m sorry if I’ve caused you problems with your bishop,” he said. “I’ll explain everything to him.”
Mattie studied him a moment. His eyes revealed a deep compassion she hadn’t experienced by anyone—even Andy. She steeled herself. “Start by explaining to me why the police were at Grace and Ben’s with a search warrant.”
He shook his head, puzzled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The elevator door opened. Two people entered, then realized it was going up and got off quickly before the doors shut. They were alone again, and Bo repeated his statement, this time with more emphasis.
“Grace is pregnant, and the last thing she needs is stress.”
“If the police are investigating them, it has nothing to do with me. I didn’t say anything.” His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath. “Mattie, the police have to investigate all angles. Everyone who’s had contact.”
“She’s pregnant and doesn’t need the stress.”
“It’s the law.” He shrugged and slapped his hands against his thighs. “Neither one of us can stop them from doing their job.”
The elevator door opened again, this time on Nathan’s floor. The doctor was sitting at a computer workstation behind the nurses’ desk. He rose when Bo mentioned his name to the nurse and directed them into the conference room. As much as she was upset with Bo on the ride into town, she was equally grateful he was accompanying her now.
“Mrs. Diener, it was recently brought to my attention that Nathan has been exposed to the chicken pox virus, and while it’s a common childhood disease that usually runs its course without issues, it can be very serious in some individuals.”
A lump grew in Mattie’s throat.
“I believe Nathan has an atypical hemorrhagic condition associated with the chicken pox virus. Any skin eruptions would have been masked by bruising. In other words, this form of chicken pox is more internal rather than the external kind most children experience.”
Mattie wiped her eyes. “What does all that mean?”
“The virus is attacking his organs. Primarily his liver. He’s in acute liver failure. I’ve ordered a biopsy to confirm that it is, in fact, the varicella-zoster virus. I’ve also ordered medicine to combat the disease. But I suspect the damage is extensive. He’ll probably require a liver transplant.”
The room spun. Nausea washed over her in waves.
“I didn’t see any notations in the chart about him being immune compromised,” the doctor went on to say. “Has he been an otherwise healthy child?”
“He’s always been sickly. He catches colds easily,” she said. “Doctor Roswell always thought he was small for his age. He thought maybe it had something to do with mei husband having German measles while I was pregnant.” Mattie picked at the dirt under her nails.
“How long before we know if he needs a transplant?” Bo asked.
“I have a call into Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit to speak with a transplant surgeon. I’ll know more after the biopsy is reported and I have a chance to discuss the case with the surgeon. In the meantime, I’m monitoring his liver enzymes and clotting factors.” He paused a moment. “Mrs. Diener, I have to warn you. The odds of finding an organ match before his liver shuts down completely are not likely.”
“Are you saying he’s going to die?” Her voice strained.
“We’re doing everything we can.”
She closed her eyes, needing a moment to absorb the news. It all seemed surreal, like a dream. A bad dream she couldn’t wake up from. Someone finally identified what was wrong with Nathan only to tell her that he was dying. Panic warred within her. Why was God allowing this to happen?
“Mrs. Diener?” The doctor’s voice rose as if it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get her attention.
She glanced up, dazed and unable to form a response.
“Mattie, the doctor asked if you know what your blood type is,” Bo said, concern growing in his expression.
It wasn’t until he brushed his hand against her arm that she registered his question. “Mei what?”
“Blood type,” Bo repeated.
She shook her head.
“The reason for asking,” the doctor said, “is that there is a living donor procedure where a transplant can be possible through a partial organ. Depending if you’re a match, you could potentially donate a portion of your liver to your son.” Doctor Oshay went on to explain how the liver was an organ that could regenerate itself. In other words, grow new cells.
The news was both overwhelming and encouraging. Mattie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What do I need to do?”
“We’ll start with a full lab work-up.” Doctor Oshay removed a prescription pad from his white coat pocket, scrawled something on it, then tore it off the pad. “Take this to the lab. We can talk more once the results are back.”
“How dangerous is the surgery?” Bo broke in.
“There’s always a chance his body will reject the liver.” The doctor handed the prescription to her.
“For Mattie.” He leaned forward. “She would be giving part of her liver, right? How dangerous is that?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said appreciatively. She studied the unreadable prescription as the doctor explained how any surgery had its risks. She’d rather not be reminded at the moment. Her son’s life was on the line. Lord, please let me be a match.
“Mrs. Diener will probably be hospitalized a week to ten days, during which she will have ongoing blood work and tests after the procedure to be certain everything is functioning normal.”
“Can I see Nathan?” she blurted.
“I would ask that you get your lab work done first, but after that, I don’t have a problem with you staying as long as you wish.” He turned to Bo. “Unless the court order doesn’t permit such an arrangement.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nathan’s skin was the color of a canary. Bo wished someone would have prepared Mattie for the jaundice. Her knees buckled midway into the room. If he hadn’t been standing directly behind her, she would have hit the floor. He helped her into a nearby chair. “Do you need something to drink?”
She licked her lips. “I think I’m fine.”
He
r voice sounded weak, hoarse. She wasn’t fine. The woman was crumbling, and why wouldn’t she? Her child was sick—dying.
She sat a moment, shoulders hunched and head bowed, then pushed off the chair. Bo moved closer to the bed as she did, half expecting to have to catch her again.
“Nathan,” she said in a broken pitch. “It’s Mamm. I’m here.” Studying the child, her face cringed. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, falling onto the front of her dress. “I wish you would open your eyes.”
Although unresponsive, the boy’s expression was peaceful—hauntingly so.
In a quiet sob, Mattie’s shoulders shook. “I don’t see any spots.”
Bo came up beside her and placed his hand on her upper back between her shoulder blades. “The chicken pox is internal.” Yet, even as he said it, he couldn’t tamp the image of the child covered with spots in his dream. He glanced at Mattie. She was pale, taking quick, shallow breaths, and sweat had beaded across her forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Jah, why?”
“I just thought you might want to sit down.”
“I’m fine.” She continued to watch Nathan.
A sick feeling washed over him. Amanda had spots. In his dream, the mother was covered as well. “Mattie,” he said. “Have you had chicken pox before?”
She shook her head. “I don’t recall.”
“I, um . . . I’m going to step out of the room for a few minutes.” He was grateful she nodded without looking at him. Otherwise she might have noticed his fear ebbing its way to the surface. He left the room and headed to the nurses’ desk where he found Doctor Oshay talking with several of the nurses. They were laughing about something. Bo wasn’t sure if he should interrupt them or not, so he stood at the desk, waiting to be acknowledged.
A nurse came out of a patient’s room rolling a blood pressure machine and paused at the desk. “May I help you?”
“I’d like to speak with Doctor Oshay if he has a few minutes.”
“I’ll let him know.” She went behind the long desk, and a few moments later, Doctor Oshay approached Bo.
Without wasting the doctor’s time, Bo asked, “How long does it take for someone to show signs of chicken pox after they were exposed?”
“It can take as long as a couple of weeks to develop symptoms.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a problem?”
“That depends. Mattie Diener has been exposed to two of the children and potentially others in her district with the virus. If she doesn’t recall having chicken pox herself, will she still be able to donate part of her liver?”
“No. The risk would be too great.”
That wasn’t the answer Bo wanted to hear. Mattie wouldn’t take the news well either.
“But we’ll know more soon. The blood work isn’t back from the lab yet.”
“And you’ll be able to tell? I mean, even if she doesn’t have any outward spots? The tests will show if she has the atypical—the form her son has?”
“Yes, I’ve ordered varicella titers, which will show if she has immunity,” Doctor Oshay said. “I’ve ordered a comprehensive metabolic panel as well as full red- and white-blood-cell-count tests.”
Bo blew out a breath. There was still hope. “Thank you for talking with me.”
“Anytime.”
Bo turned away and removed his cell phone from his pocket. He had one more thing to do.
“You’re perspiring.”
Mattie touched her moist forehead. “It’s warm in here. Don’t you think?”
Bo eyed her closer. “Your face is flushed too. You might have a fever.”
“Don’t speak like that, Bo Lambright. I don’t have time to get sick nau.”
His lips formed a straight line in what she had come to know as a forced smile. She turned her attention back to Nathan. Lord, mei sohn needs me. I can’t get sick. I can’t.
“Maybe you should drink some water. There’s a fountain not far down the hall.”
She shook her head, not about to leave Nathan’s side.
He pushed the chair closer to the bed. “At least sit down.”
She perched on the edge of the chair cushion, ready to rise should Nathan open his eyes. But her son hadn’t moved a muscle the entire time she’d been in the room. Her hope was diminishing by the second, and judging by the bleak expression on Bo’s face, he harbored a lot of doubts as well.
“Mattie,” he said.
By the tenderness in his tone, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to voice more concern. “Don’t discourage me, Bo,” she said, not veering her focus from Nathan. “I’m standing on what feels like shifting sand as it is.”
He knelt beside the chair. “I thought we could pray for Nathan—together.”
Her vision blurred as he took her hands into his.
“Father, we come to You today in need of mercy. You have promised in Your Word that when two or three are gathered in Your name, You are in the midst. We welcome Your presence and thank You for Your love. We ask, Father, that You place Your hand upon Nathan, for we know there is healing in Your command. Give Mattie peace that surpasses all understanding. We ask for this in Jesus’ name, amen.”
“Danki.” Prayers in her district were usually unspoken. Even if she tried, she wouldn’t have been able to pray with the same boldness Bo had.
His eyes glazed. “Have faith, Mattie. God loves Nathan. He loves you.”
“He loves you, too, Bo. You’re a very kind person.”
Bo gently squeezed her hand. “No matter what the doctor’s report is, we stand in faith. Together.”
Together. There truly was power in praying with another, and she knew without a doubt that God had sent Bo to her. Hope was restored. And she wasn’t standing alone. Mattie bowed her head. Danki, God. I don’t have the eloquent words like Bo, but I know that You sent him during this time of trouble. Please bless Bo. He’s a good man.
Bo held tight to Mattie’s hand when Nathan’s door opened and two men dressed in scrubs along with his nurse entered the room.
“Ronald and Ed are here from imaging. They’ll take Nathan downstairs for his biopsy,” the nurse said.
One man tapped the wheel release under the foot of the bed, while the other clamped the nasal tube and detached it from the container on the wall. “You’re welcome to ride along in the elevator with us,” the taller one said, unhooking Nathan from the monitors.
“How long does the test normally take?” Bo asked as they walked toward the elevator.
“I’d say an hour or two,” the darker-haired man said. “Is that how long you would guess, Ed?”
“That’s about right.” He pressed the Down button on the service elevator. The door opened immediately, and the men rolled the oversized crib inside.
Mattie chewed her bottom lip. Bo wanted to remind her about standing on faith, but decided to wait until they were alone. The imaging room was at the end of the hall in what looked like the basement. He and Mattie were stopped at the door.
“I’m sorry, but family members aren’t allowed inside during testing,” Ronald said. “I can have someone page you when he’s back in his room.”
“Yes, please.” Mattie sniffled.
Once the door closed, Bo said, “Let’s get something to drink in the cafeteria.”
Mattie stared blankly at the door.
“Mattie?”
She snapped out of her stupor and faced him.
“We have an hour or two.” He motioned to the bank of elevators. “I’m thirsty. What about you?”
At first, he wasn’t sure she would leave, then she turned toward the elevator. “I’m thirsty too.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost noon. We might as well eat lunch.”
“I don’t think I could eat.”
He frowned. “You need your strength.”
A few minutes later, they were in the cafeteria and he was coaxing her to choose something from the steaming tray line. “I’m going to pick for yo
u if you don’t select something.”
“Fine,” she huffed and chose an egg salad sandwich with plain potato chips.
He opted for something hot and selected the meat loaf and a side of peas. He filled two Styrofoam cups with coffee, then carried the tray over to the register and paid. They found a table near a window and sat.
Bo opened his mouth to bless the food and noticed her head bowed, eyes closed, and her mouth moving in silence. He lowered his head and prayed silently. When he looked up, she was watching him. He smiled and picked up his fork. “I hope this is good. My stomach has been growling since yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“I was here all night.” He took a bite of meat loaf and washed it down with coffee.
“Why were you here all nacht?”
“I got a call that one of my foster kids was in an accident. The ambulance brought him into the emergency room and from there he was admitted.”
Her mouth gaped. “That was the call you received when you said something had kumm up and you needed to go?”
He nodded.
“Oh, I feel bad. You stayed so I could see Nathan again.”
“Don’t feel bad.”
“How is the child doing?”
“He’s going to be sore for a while. Several of his ribs are broken, but it could have been a lot worse.” He forked more meat loaf. “I plan to check on him before he’s discharged.”
“What’s his name?”
“Josh. He’s a good kid. A little wayward, but considering what he’s gone through in his life, he could be worse.” He pointed his fork at her plate. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
“So, do you keep in contact with all the kids?”
“Yes, but I see Josh more often. He tends to bounce from foster home to foster home.”
Her eyes widened.
“Josh has a lot of adjustment issues.”
“With the . . . foster . . .” Her face turned as white as the napkin.
All this talk about foster kids, it should have dawned on him sooner. “You’re worried about Amanda, aren’t you?”
“She only knows Pennsylvania Deitsch, and she doesn’t warm up right away to strangers. Besides that, she’s sick. She’ll have a difficult time adjusting.”