Miracles and Mischief

by Mary Manners

  “Oh, I’m sure you are.” He feathered his index finger across one dimple, and she shivered as his breath warmed her cheek. “But I’ll refrain—for now, at least.”

  “I…why?” The stars overhead were reflected in his eyes.

  “Because when I do kiss you, Shay—and I will—you’ll know it means something, and you’ll want it as much as I do.”

  “You think so?” Shayna stepped back slightly, struggling to keep her pulse from exploding through her jugular. “Well, if I didn’t know better, Nate, I’d say you’re suffering from a concussion along with poor vision.”

  “If I am, I hope it never goes away.” He reached over her shoulder and pushed open the door before turning away. “When Zac wakes up, tell him I said hello and that I’ll see him Saturday.”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  He brushed a knuckle along her jawline. “And I’ll see you Saturday, too, Shayna.”

  ****

  Nate brewed a pot of decaf and settled in at the kitchen table. Moonlight shimmered across greening pasture grass. The snow had melted, and with February easing into March, the temperatures were beginning to moderate. The weather should be good come Saturday—not too cold for Zac to enjoy an afternoon away from home. Maybe, if he felt up to it, they could do a little exploring in the field or drop a pole into the stocked pond. Nate wondered if the boy had ever been fishing.

  His conversation with Shayna replayed over and over in his head. Man, his desire to kiss her was nearly overwhelming and took him completely by surprise. What was meant to be a simple dinner—a little respite for Shayna with no strings attached—had become so much more. At least for him.

  He wasn’t so sure she was on board. And why should she be? For all she knew from the media, he was just some football star out on the prowl. And the recent headlines did little to dispel that image. Maybe he’d get the chance to explain things to her, eventually. Not that it would matter much. Nate knew that once people were firmly set in their opinion, it was just this side of impossible to change their way of thinking.

  He’d been close enough to Shayna to feel her pulse, and he knew from the drum of blood through her veins that she felt something. As the night enfolded around them, her perfume had drifted up to fill the air he breathed…something warm and floral—like the long-awaited whisper of spring.

  Shayna was much more than just a beautiful woman. Nate admired the fact that she tried to keep things as normal as possible for her son. Sure, she worried about Zac. But she didn’t let that worry overwhelm. That took a strong faith, which Shayna possessed in spades, and courage—a kind of courage Nate had given little thought since Josh’s death.

  Even after all the years that had passed, he still missed his brother. The ache smarted like a sliver of wood lodged in his heart. He figured by now it would have worked its way out. Yet, the pain still lingered, truly a part of him now. He’d detached himself from everything that mattered—even his mom and Harry. He’d gone weeks without speaking to them, though at least one of them left a message on his cell phone almost every day to remind him he was missed.

  Nate was stabbed by guilt. How had he gone so long without finding a way beyond the hurt? Could he turn that pain into something good, now?

  Nate reached for the devotional Stan had given him. He’d yet to read the first entry, and he supposed now was as good a time as any. His feelings were jumbled, his heart like a map lacking directions. He didn’t know where he was supposed to go, and the feeling left him unsettled.

  He cared about Zac, and Shayna, as well. The very idea scared the stuffing out of Nate. What if Zac didn’t make it? What would happen to Shayna? He couldn’t bear the thought of her lost in a dark tunnel of grief.

  Somehow, over the course of the last several weeks, he’d fallen in love with her.

  He opened the devotional. Tonight he’d break the seal…read through the first few entries. But before that, he had a call to make. A heartfelt conversation with his mom was long overdue.

  He scanned the contacts stored in his cell phone, paused at his mom’s and Harry’s in Fernandina Beach, and hit send to connect.

  8

  “Mama, look.” Zac jabbed a finger at the bay window, leaving fingerprints. “There’s a pond.”

  “I see it.” Shayna cringed at the smudged glass, but Nate didn’t seem to mind.

  Zac leaned in and breathed on the window, fogging the glass. “Does it have fish, Nate?”

  “You bet it does.” Nate stepped over and placed his hands on Zac’s shoulders, squeezing gently.

  “Can I go watch them swim?”

  “If it’s OK with your mom.”

  “Can I, Mama?” Zac turned to Shayna and tugged at her cardigan. “Can I, please?”

  “Sure, honey. But you have to bundle up.” She handed him his Titan’s jacket. It had quickly become his favorite. “The sun’s out, but it’s still a bit cool.”

  “I’ll grab some chairs and a blanket.” Nate motioned toward the fridge. “Can you make a few sandwiches, Shayna? We’ll have a picnic.”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Make yourself at home. I’ll get the cooler, too. We can load everything into the back of the truck and ride down to the pond together.”

  “Good idea.” Shayna glanced at Zac, whose cheeks were a bit sallow. He’d slept in later than usual that morning and was more sluggish than he’d been the past week or so. His system was wearing down. Dr. Garrison warned her that this would happen, in time. “You want something to drink, Zac?”

  “Does Nate have apple juice?”

  “I sure do, buddy.” Nate grabbed a plastic cup from the cabinet above the sink. “You told me you like it, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” Zac nodded and climbed into a chair at the kitchen table. “’Course I did.”

  “Well, I added it to my grocery list.” Nate grabbed a carton of juice from the fridge and filled the cup before handing it to Zac. “Would you like some, too?” he asked Shayna.

  “No, thanks.” She shook her head, her heart swelling. “But it was nice of you to think of Zac like that, Nate.”

  “No problem. I want him—and you, too, Shayna—to be comfortable here.”

  “We are.” The house was surprisingly modest—not at all what Shayna expected. It sat on twelve acres of land, according to Nate, and had been in his mother’s family for several generations. The wraparound porch practically begged for company, and Shayna imagined the two-seater swing had seen its share of action over the years. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Nate set the carton of juice on the counter and slipped into his jacket. He headed toward the door leading out to the garage. “Now, I’ll just go get those chairs and load them into the truck. I’ll be right back.”

  “OK.” Shayna opened the refrigerator to return the apple juice and found it stocked with all of Zac’s favorite foods. She forced back the lump in her throat as she drew out a deli tray, mustard and mayo.

  “Turkey or ham?” Shayna asked Zac as she opened a loaf of wheat bread.

  “Peanut butter.”

  “Um…OK.” She spied a jar on the counter beside the toaster. “With jelly?”

  “Uh-huh. Grape. And one of those cookies.” Zac pointed. A bag of Oreos lay open on the kitchen table.

  “They look good.” Shayna filled a baggie with half-a-dozen, and then added one more for good measure. They could all share. Zac leaned forward in his chair and pressed one cheek to the kitchen table. “Are you tired, honey?”

  “Kinda.”

  “Want to take a nap?”

  “No!”

  “Just asking.” Shayna wagged a finger at him. “Don’t raise your voice to me. It’s disrespectful.”

  He sighed. Chair legs scraped as he pulled closer to the table. “Sorry, Mama.”

  “Here’s a handful of grapes to tide you over until lunch.” She handed him a small plastic bag filled with plump, red grapes.

  “Thank you.” He tugged a grape from the b
unch and popped it into his mouth.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Is Nate coming back?”

  “Yes, in a minute.” Shayna returned to preparing their lunches. She slathered mayo on a slice of bread and plopped it atop a generous stack of turkey. “Drink your juice.”

  Nate stomped dirt from his boots as he reentered the kitchen. “Truck’s loaded.” He ambled over to Zac, who rested his head on the table once again. “What do you have there, buddy?”

  “Mama gave me some grapes.”

  “May I have one?”

  “Sure.” Zac pulled one from the bag. Nate stood there with his mouth open and motioned for Zac to toss it. A perfect catch had both Shayna and Zac laughing.

  “Do it again, Nate!”

  A few more tosses, all with perfect aim followed by successful grabs had Nate marveling, “I think you’ll make a great quarterback one day, Zac. You have the arm for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can I throw more later?” Zac laid his head on the table once again. “I’m tired now.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Nate handed him his ball cap. “How about a ride on my shoulders out to the truck, buddy?”

  “OK.” Zac lifted his head and raised both arms, wrapping them around Nate’s neck as he was hoisted into Nate’s strong arms. Zac’s eyelids drooped, and Shayna knew if her son didn’t get his second wind quick, it was going to be a very short fishing expedition. Zac rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think I can walk too far, Nate,” he murmured.

  “I’ve got you, buddy.” Nate cradled him close. “It’s OK. Rest on me.”

  Shayna’s eyes filled with tears as Nate brushed past her toward the garage. He glanced back over his shoulder. “I’ll strap him in and come back for the cooler.”

  “I can manage it.” Shayna swiped her eyes and struggled to hold her voice steady.

  “Hey, are you crying?”

  Shayna nodded stiffly as she sniffled. “Yes.”

  “Why?” Nate turned back and stood to face her. He slipped his fingers through her hair and skimmed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “What did I do?”

  Shayna sighed and smiled through her tears. “You made me want to kiss you.”

  ****

  “Let me do that for you.” Nate reached for Shayna’s fishing rod.

  “It’s OK. I can do it.” It wasn’t like they were using worms for bait. Shayna rolled a piece of bread and pierced the blob with a fish hook. “My dad used to take me fishing when I was a little girl.”

  “I see.” Nate’s blue eyes smiled in the sunlight reflected off the water. Zac was nestled in his lap, wrapped in a quilt and sleeping soundly. “Maybe you can bait my hook, then, too?”

  “You’re doing a fine job.” Shayna laughed. “You could do it with your eyes closed.”

  “It’s good to hear you laugh.” Nate nodded. “Today’s been good for all of us.”

  “It’s kept my mind off next week.”

  “What’s next week?”

  “Another round of tests for Zac. Dr. Garrison is keeping close watch on him.”

  “That’s good…the close watch, I mean.”

  Shayna leaned over and pressed a hand to Zac’s forehead. The skin was clammy but cool—no signs of the fever she worried about so much. “He hasn’t been himself today. He’s wearing down.” Shayna lifted a hand to her lips. “I’m worried, Nate. The chance of finding a donor in time is only one in ten-to-twenty thousand and those odds only get worse as time passes.”

  “But it’s possible, right—to find a donor?”

  “Yes. Someone’s out there for Zac, but the clock is ticking too fast.” Tears filled her eyes, and she choked back a sob, shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t want to cry, Nate. Not here—with the sun shining and the birds singing and everything else so…perfect.”

  “It’s OK.” He took her fishing rod and set it in the grass along with his before drawing her close. “Let it go, honey. You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s OK to cry.”

  “I just want him to get better. That’s all I want—everything.”

  “I know.” Nate wished with all his heart he could promise that would happen. But he didn’t know, and he couldn’t fix it.

  But he could love Shayna and be there for her through everything—whatever that might be. He prayed it was enough.

  9

  Nate’s cell phone chimed, rousing him from a fitful sleep. He’d caught little more than a few winks through the night, his mind focused on Shayna and the deep worry in her voice over Zac’s impending appointment at the hospital. A bone marrow transplant was the final option—if only they could find a donor. Nate had drifted off praying about it. Now, he felt tension in every muscle fiber and his head drummed with a dull, sleep-fogged ache.

  The phone screeched once more. He reached for it, bobbling it in his hands as he tried to read the screen. He didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, but he picked up the call, anyway.

  “Hello, this is Nate Saylor.” He struggled to clear the rasp from his voice as he raked a hand through his hair. He needed coffee—now. “What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Saylor, this is Dr. Garrison over at Mill’s Landing Children’s Hospital. Do you have a bit of time to talk?”

  “Sure. Hang on a minute.” Nate recognized the name. Shayna spoke often of her respect for Zac’s pediatric oncologist. He sat up in the bed and switched the phone to his other ear, his senses piqued to full alert. “Is Zac OK? Shayna told me he has an appointment with you today.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Zac’s due to be admitted in just a few hours for a battery of tests.”

  “And Shayna? Is she OK?”

  “As far as I know. She phoned to confirm the appointment.” Dr. Garrison paused. “I need to speak to you privately, Mr. Saylor—”

  “Nate.” He pushed blankets back and slipped from the bed. Shuffling across the cold, wood floor, he double-timed it to the kitchen, speaking as he went. “What do you need to talk about? Is this about Zac?”

  “Yes. Nate, I’m not really sure how to say this. The situation is so unique, that even I am at a loss as to how to handle it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You see…we’ve located a donor for Zac—an individual who’s as close to a perfect match as someone who’s not a blood relative can possibly be.”

  “That’s great…wonderful. Shayna’s surely thrilled beyond words.”

  “Shayna doesn’t know yet, Nate.” Dr. Garrison drew a single, deep breath. “She doesn’t know I’ve called you.”

  “I’m confused. Shouldn’t she be the first one to know? Why are you telling me before you’ve even spoken to her?”

  “Because I had to confirm with you first. We got a call from the National Donor Registry, and you’ll play a very big part in this, Nate—a crucial part.”

  “Oh, man…” A light suddenly dawned, and the room began to swim. Nate sank into a chair at the table and doubled over. “Do you mean…?”

  “Yes, Nate.” Dr. Garrison lowered his voice. “You’re Zac’s match. You’re the one he’s been waiting for.”

  “But it’s impossible—Shayna said the chance of anyone unrelated matching is one in ten-to-twenty thousand, and I just joined the registry a few weeks ago. How can it possibly be?”

  “Miracles happen, Nate, and I’d call this the best kind of miracle.”

  “Are you sure…about me being the best match for Zac?”

  “I’d like to run another test, just to confirm.”

  “When are you going to tell Shayna?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Provided our follow-up tests validate the match, are you prepared to go through with this…to really go through with the transplant?”

  “Of course I am.” Nate shook his head, and the room began to clear. “How could I not?”

  “Your career. Before we can harvest the cells you
’ll have to take a round of medication to boost the production. Then there’s the harvesting procedure itself, and afterwards it takes a measure of time to heal and for the cells to build back up in your system. You’ll feel a bit off and will have to miss some workouts.”

  “Workouts can wait. Zac is way more important.” He was emphatic. “It’s not even an issue. When can we start?”

  “We have much to discuss, and very limited time. Zac’s condition is quickly declining, and we’ll need at least a month to get him ready for the transplant.”

  “I understand.” Nate’s heart skipped one beat, two. “Do you need tell Shayna I’m the donor? I don’t want to add to her worry, and I know she’ll be concerned about me.”

  “I’ll leave that up to you. It’s standard procedure not to divulge the name of the donor, but I don’t know how you’ll keep it from her, seeing as you two are friends.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Well, you’d better think fast.”

  “I don’t want the press to know, at least not until later on.” Nate emphasized the words. “They’d have a field day with this, and Shayna doesn’t need the added stress. Can you at least promise me that?”

  “I’ll do my best, Nate. That’s all I can promise.” Papers rustled through the phone line, and Nate imagined the doctor was already beginning to fill a file on him. “How long will it take you to get here?” Dr. Garrison paused once more. “I’d like you to come this morning, Nate—now, if possible. It’s imperative to run a test to confirm and have all my ducks in a row before I speak with Shayna.”

  Ducks in a row…

  “Give me half an hour.” Nate rose from the table. Coffee would have to wait. “I’ll be right over.”

  “Come directly to my office.”

  “I’ll find you.” Nate disconnected and quickly backtracked to the bathroom.

  ****

  Shayna rested in a chair at Zac’s bedside. He’d done little more than sleep all of yesterday; she’d barely gotten him to eat. A glance at her watch told her they had only a few hours until Zac’s appointment with Dr. Garrison. Given Zac’s lethargic condition, his blood count was probably way off. He’d spend more than a few days in the hospital once again; she was sure of it.