by Heather Gray
Suzie released her arm but wasn’t ready to let her go yet. “I’ve known you a long time, Rylie, and I’ve never seen you to take a dislike to someone the way you have this guy. I’ve also never known you to be ungrateful about a single donation to the children of this hospital. What gives?”
The words were a sledgehammer to her middle. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Rylie focused on breathing to alleviate the pain.
Suzie was right.
Rylie was out of control, and she knew it. She’d been heading down that particular slippery slope for a while but thought she’d managed to hide it from everyone.
She didn’t reply to Suzie’s question. How could she? She wasn’t entirely sure she knew the answer. Rylie had a job to do, though, and she would do it. If she was lucky, she’d be able to pull it off with a measure of grace, too. With another deep breath, she stepped away from Suzie’s desk and around the barrier into her cubicle.
“You look hideous.” Rylie clapped a hand over her mouth. She understood the difference between thinking something and speaking it. Didn’t she? “Uh, I mean…”
He shook his head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve had better weeks. Suzie...” He hooked a thumb toward the front of the office but seemed too worn to work up much enthusiasm for the effort. “She told me to stick around and talk to you.”
Rylie sat at her desk and considered the man. His eyes were a washed-out brown today instead of the intense shade she’d seen before. It was as if they, too, were tired – too tired to hold their color. The lines around his eyes, almost imperceptible the last time she’d seen him, were now grooves carved into his skin. His forehead bore creases that his now-shaggy blond hair attempted to conceal.
Lord, give me the words.
“So, uh, what did you bring us?”
He grimaced. “I was supposed to ask what you needed, but I ended up with a bunch of books, so I brought those. Most kids are heading back to school, but some of the ones here won’t get to. I thought they might enjoy having something to read.”
She nodded. “Okay. What kinds of books?”
He shrugged, his gaze darting away from her as he did. “All ages. From toddler up to young adult, stuff for boys and for girls. I included coloring books, too. I assume not all the parents can sit here and read. They have jobs just like the rest of us, or other kids at home.”
Rylie offered a smile. “It’s a lovely gift.”
“But not what you need.”
Some nervous habits were hard to extinguish. Rylie’s hand snaked up and tugged at the hair draped across the nape of her neck. “Child Life works in the entire hospital. My assigned area is Pediatric Oncology, so the things I think are important might not apply in other parts of the hospital. For example, my kids are always in need of goofy hats. Hair bows are in demand, too. Our girls with hair wear them, and the ones who are losing their hair sometimes wrap their head in a scarf and put a bow on that. Younger boys like pajamas with super heroes on them. Teens prefer video games. Most of the rooms are equipped with game consoles.”
Her words petered to a stop as she realized she was answering a question he hadn’t asked.
Zach nodded and rubbed a hand across his face. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t check in. Some things came up, and here I am.” His words might have cut had he not appeared so tired. As it was, they came across as sharp as the preschoolers’ rounded safety scissors. “Talk to me about next month. What will you guys need in September? Tell me now so I can plan ahead.”
She could recite almost by rote the contents of The Vault. They were running low on everything their kids customarily used and were out of nearly everything that would be called for if a specialty case came up. “Stuffed animals are always popular, and we have a perpetual shortage of anything interesting to boys. It’s easy for most people to find items the girls appreciate. Boys are a different story. People don’t think they’re as fun to shop for, so they end up forgotten.”
His head tipped down in a nod of sorts.
“Do you want to tell me what precipitated your involvement in what we do here?”
Panic flashed through his eyes. If he were one of her kids, she would say he was afraid to answer. Either because he didn’t think she’d approve of his answer… or because he didn’t think he could say the words without crying. He wasn’t a kid, though. Adults were infinitely more complicated. They had years of hiding their feelings and pretending to be something they weren’t.
She was about to change the subject as she started to shift some forms on her desk, but her hand slipped. The stack fluttered in disarray to the floor. They were only papers, and papers weren’t a problem. Until she leaned down to pick them up, that is. Mr. Zach York leaned down at the exact same time.
Crack.
Rylie rubbed her scalp and winced. The instant headache was a doozy. She didn’t know whether to admire the gallant behavior that had prompted him to lean toward the papers, or to be irritated. Gallantry didn’t annoy her. Pain, however, did.
“What’d you go and do that for?” His gruffly mumbled question didn’t sound at all apologetic. Maybe his head smarted, too.
“Look, Mr. York, my kids need me, so I should get going. Touch base with me next month. If we need anything specific, I’ll inform you. In the meantime, keep in mind what I said. As for the books, they’ll all go to good use.”
Rylie slipped out of her cubicle and got past Suzie’s desk before she took a breath. Once the elevator doors closed behind her, she put a hand to her head and let the tears come. She wasn’t used to getting knocked on the noggin, and that one had hurt more than most. There was a joke in there somewhere about him being hard-headed, but searching for the words only caused the ache to increase.
What would he think of her abrupt departure? She’d done a lousy job of making a good impression on the man, so his reaction would be anyone’s guess. Regardless, letting him see her cry was at the bottom of her to-do list for the day.
The familiar ding heralded her arrival at the designated floor. She wiped at her tears as the doors parted. Rather than stepping out, though, she stared at the man standing just outside the elevator. “Mr. York?” He had to have flown down those stairs…
He crossed the threshold and hit the button to take them back up to the Child Life office. “I know you’re needed, but at least let me apologize.”
Zach held out a tissue to her, which she took.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’re crying.”
“It hurt.”
A quick nod brought his eyes to meet hers. “As long as that’s what caused the tears and not something I said.”
Was he for real? She’d been a jerk from day one, and he thought he’d said something? “I’m afraid you haven’t caught me at my best. Ever. I’m not normally so temperamental.”
“I thought maybe… My sister would… I mean…” Color crept up his neck.
“PMS, huh?”
His gaze bounced off hers and refused to return. “Um…”
She chuckled. His discomfort did wonders for her headache.
They reached the Child Life floor, and the doors opened. Zach finally let his scrutiny settle on her again, the embarrassment of a moment ago gone. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, and thanks for coming in and bringing the books. I take full responsibility for us getting off on to such a rocky start, and I’m sorry.”
He smiled then, and Rylie caught her first glimpse of who Zach York was underneath that reserved exterior. She couldn’t help it. She liked what she saw.
“No worries.” He rubbed his head. “I do, nevertheless, think I’ll take the stairs to be on the safe side. We don’t seem to do well in confined spaces.” He tapped the button to take her back down. Then he stepped through the doors and offered her a mock salute as they again slid closed.
Elevators were becoming a thing with them.
By the time she arri
ved at the oncology unit, Rylie had wiped away all evidence of tears. It wasn’t like her to cry over a bumped head, even if it had been painful. Her emotions were far too close to the surface today.
Who was she kidding? Today was no different than the day before, the week before, or the month before in that respect.
Rylie made a mental note to email Zach later and apologize again. And maybe brush up on those Bible verses that talk about controlling one’s tongue and being careful how you speak to others. Poor Mr. York had gotten the worst of her, no doubt about it.
That, however, was a problem for another time.
Rylie pasted a happy smile on her face and headed to Manuelita’s room. The young girl deserved some extra attention today, and Rylie planned to see that she got it.
“Hey sweetheart, how’s the food this morning?”
Her dark eyes luminous, Manuelita peeked up from her untouched breakfast and burst into tears. “I want… I want… to go home…”
Rylie pushed the tray aside, sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled the girl into a hug. “It’s okay. Mommy and Daddy are worried about you and said some hurtful things to each other. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“They’ll like each other again… if I go home…”
As Manuelita choked her words out between sobs, Rylie prayed. Dear God. Help her. Help this baby who’s done nothing to deserve this. Help her.
Far from her most eloquent prayer, it was all she had to offer. There were days when complex sentences were too much effort. God was intimately acquainted with Rylie’s heart. Her pain, too. He also understood what Manuelita was going through. In fact, not even the outcome of her battle with cancer was a mystery to Him.
Sometimes Rylie wished she could peer into the future. Which child would survive, which one wouldn’t? She could better prepare them for what was coming if she knew. That kind of knowledge, though, would be a crushing weight. She’d never keep her sanity if she was able to discern the fate of her kids in advance. She was left with little choice but to leave that particular burden resting squarely on God’s shoulders, the only ones strong enough to bear it.
“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
Manuelita’s sobs quieted, and Rylie thought about what she could say to the parents to help them repair the damage. Would they realize the pain they’d created for their daughter?
Movement drew Rylie’s eyes to the door where Manuelita’s parents stood, their eyes suspiciously moist. She nodded to them. Even if the tears weren’t spilling over, they were a good sign. And the couple was there together. That mattered, too.
“Look, Manuelita. Someone’s here to see you.”
The little girl glanced towards the door then reached frantically for a tissue. Rylie handed her the box and waited while the girl wiped her face. Then she took the used tissues to the garbage bin. If she were to hazard a guess, she’d say sweet little Manuelita didn’t want her mom and dad to know she was upset because she was afraid they’d blame each other. Last night wasn’t the first time the parents had exchanged words at the hospital, but it was, by all accounts, the most explosive.
Mrs. Vega stepped into the room and sat in the spot vacated by Rylie. She reached for Manuelita’s hands and held them loosely. “Your papa and I are sorry about last night. We’re worried about you. We try to keep our worry away from you, but sometimes it makes us say things we don’t mean.”
Mr. Vega pulled a chair close to the bed and rubbed his daughter’s back. “We yelled and made a big scene, and we’re sorry Mannie. Nobody’s getting a divorce. We love each other, and we love you. We miss having you at home where we can tuck you in every night, and sometimes we miss you so much that we say dumb things. Like last night.”
Manuelita’s gaze moved back and forth between her parents as she sniffled. “I don’t want to choose.”
Her mother scooped her up from the bed and stood, holding her daughter in a hug. Then she held a hand out to her husband, and he enveloped both of them in his arms. “No need to choose, Mannie. We’re all in this together. As a family.”
Rylie leaned her forearms on the pew in front of her.
The hospital chapel was quiet, the relaxing gurgle of a small fountain to her left the only sound. Funny how something so basic to life — water — could show its strength in how it soothed.
Is that it, God? Have I been asking You for the wrong things?
Suzie’s comment came back to Rylie. Though she’d tried to hide it, her struggles at work were apparently not as secret as she’d thought.
I don’t understand why You let children die.
She was called to work with children. Rylie had no doubt about it. Brightening a child’s life, or even just their day, brought her immeasurable joy. It fed her soul.
When did I stop looking to You to feed the hunger in my soul?
It wasn’t anything she’d done on purpose. She thought she’d brought God with her into every hospital room, every MRI, and every diagnostic report. Yet somewhere along the way…
I started leaving You out in the hallway, didn’t I?
Why? She’d committed her life to Christ ages ago, and she’d done her best to live each day for Him until…
Somewhere along the way, I stopped trusting You with the lives of my kids. You let too many of them die.
Wasn’t the power of life and death in God’s hands, though? Everyone’s days were numbered, and He was the only one who could count them in advance. The children who died, though, what about them?
They should have had more days, God. Why did You cut their lives so short?
Rylie waited for an answer, but none came. A voice from heaven would have been nice. She wouldn’t have minded a promise that God loved all the children and wanted the best for them, that heaven was a glorious place for them to be.
The fountain continued to whisper in the quiet room.
So that’s how it’s going to be? I’m supposed to explain to myself why I should continue to trust You?
After all, she knew the truth. Jesus invited everyone — including children — to come to Him, and He promised abundant life to those who accepted the invitation.
I still don’t understand why life is what’s right for some and death is what’s right for others.
Was it death, though? Or was it the best life, life lived out millennia upon millennia in the presence of one’s Savior? But the families left behind…
I give up. I won’t try to figure it out anymore. My mind will spin out of control until I’m consumed with questions about what You’re doing and why.
Who was she to question the heart or mind of God? His love was beyond anything she could comprehend, and His will was perfect whether she understood it or not. Dying was a part of living, and while she couldn’t control the one, she could do something with the other.
Okay, God. I’ll give it my best every day. I’ll love those kids and do everything I can to make this easier for them. And when one of them…
Could she say it and mean it? Rylie’s pulse raced, her palms grew clammy, and her stomach acted as if it was cliff-diving. She’d come this far, though. She couldn’t quit now. Her peace of mind — and her ability to do her job — depended on her finishing what she’d started.
When one of them doesn’t make it, I’ll give You my tears. I’ll let You be the comfort and strength You’ve always promised to be. I’ll stop trying to handle it on my own. At least, I’ll do my best. I won’t always get it right, and I’m counting on You to be patient when the hurt gets so big that I forget to let You carry it.
Rylie sat back in the pew and looked toward the front of the chapel. A small glass cross sat off to the right. Light from a nearby window caught it, and a rainbow of color danced across the walls. Most people would have been reminded of God’s promise to Noah, but that’s not where Rylie’s mind went. A Bible verse came to mind instead.
I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be
courageous! I have conquered the world.
Rylie pondered the words of Jesus, letting them circle through her thoughts and remind her that peace doesn’t come from the world around her.
MEEP, MEEP.
Her pager pierced the silence of the chapel, jarring Rylie from her contemplation.
A quick glance told her she was needed upstairs. A family was about to get some bad news, and the doctor wanted her to be there in case the child in question needed her.
September
“Mind if I join you?” Blossom, the chaplain behind the Fourth of July nail polish, called out to Rylie.
“Sure.”
Blossom settled into the other side of the cafeteria’s booth. “I like what you did with your hair.”
Rylie ran her fingers through her ebony pony tail. She hadn’t done anything different with it. “Shampoo. I’ll let you borrow it if you want.”
“Ouch.” The chaplain gave a mock wince. “What’s with you?”
“Zach York is supposed to come in again today.”
“York? He the book guy?”
Rylie nodded. “One and the same.”
“Be sure and tell him how much the kids appreciate all those books he brought in. Reading material’s not cheap. That had to be a couple thousand dollars’ worth.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell him.”
Blossom lifted an eyebrow. “So what is it with you and him anyway? You don’t seem thrilled at the thought of seeing him again.”
“I don’t know.” Rylie shrugged. “I’m sure he’s a decent guy, but he always seems to bring out the worst in me.”
“Huh.”
Rylie ogled the other woman. “‘Huh.’ That’s all you have to say?” Indifference wasn’t Blossom’s usual modus operandi.
The older woman bowed her head and prayed over her meal before glancing back up. “When a man brings out the worst in a woman, he’s either going to end up in bed with her or in jail for trying to get into bed with her. Or he’ll end up married to her sister. Do you have any sisters?”