by Paula Mowery
LEGACY AND LOVE
Paula Mowery
Copyright 2014 Paula Mowery
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Art by Joan Alley
Editing by Susan Baganz
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Published by Prism Book Group
ISBN-10: 1940099528 ISBN-13: 978-1-940099-52-1
First Edition, 2014
Published in the United States of America
Contact info: [email protected]
http://www.prismbookgroup.com
THE PRAYER SHAWL
Paula Mowery
CHAPTER ONE
Sean Holland Jr. rushed through the hospital entrance, pausing only long enough for the automatic doors to open. He shucked his jacket. The east Tennessee weather was mild for late December. This was his sister-in-law, Beth’s, second trip to the maternity ward, but after today, two-year-old Miranda would be big sister to twin baby brothers. Two late Christmas presents for the whole family. His brother, Richard, had a head start in the marriage and family arena, despite being five years younger than Sean. A fact that tended to bother his mother more than it did him.
Sean stopped at the waiting room door and scanned the room. He locked eyes with his father, who waved him over.
“So, what’s the status report?” Sean looked at his mother, who sat next to Beth’s mother.
They spoke at the same time, glanced at each other, and laughed. Sean’s mother nodded, urging Mrs. Sybrant to go ahead and give the update. “The babies are here, and everyone is doing well. We’re just waiting to be able to go in.” The maternal grandmother’s hands fidgeted in her lap.
Sean breathed a sigh of relief, knowing everything had turned out well. There had been a possibility of complications. He plunked into a seat next to his mother and laid his arm across her shoulders. “That’s great news, Granny.”
Sean’s mother cocked an eyebrow. “That would be Nana. Thank you very much.”
All heads turned when Richard glided into the waiting room and hurried to their staked-out corner. Though his hair and clothes appeared disheveled, his face displayed a goofy smile. Mr. Holland patted his son’s back. “Congratulations.”
Beth’s mother stood and embraced Richard. When they stepped back, the new father of twin boys ran his hand through his dark hair. “Thanks. We’re ready for everyone to come in to meet Matthew and Michael.”
“So, the doctor said no sign of those problems he thought would be present at birth?” Beth’s mother asked.
Richard chuckled. “Nope. The doctor seemed surprised, but we told him—that’s the power of prayer.”
Sean suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s explanation for his healthy sons. He stayed seated, thinking two sets of grandparents was probably enough without adding an uncle into a small hospital room.
Richard glanced back. “Come on, bro, you gotta come too.”
“It’s not too much?”
“Naw. Beth sent me out here.”
“Okay.” Sean followed the eager entourage.
They gathered in a semicircle at the foot of the hospital bed. Beth lay reclined with a bundle in each arm and some sort of knitted shawl around her shoulders and draped over each baby.
A collective “ahh” emitted.
The new mother glanced to her left. “This is Matthew.” Her focus moved to her right. “And, this is Michael.”
Sean’s mother edged nearer, fingering the soothing blue shawl draped around Michael. “Is this one of Hope’s?”
A smile spread across Beth’s face, and she nodded. “She brought it last week.”
Beth’s mother caressed the shawl’s fringe that fell along Matthew’s back. “Wrapped in prayer.” Her voice cracked, and she sniffed.
Sean wondered about the shawl and its maker, Hope. She must be someone from their church, because he couldn’t recall anyone by that name. He shook off the curiosity when the grandmothers pulled back blankets to reveal pink faces and dark hair. Sean chuckled to himself as everyone bragged about who the babies resembled. He couldn’t see it.
He excused himself, giving the explanation of an early morning interview, and headed home.
As he entered his apartment, the silence was deafening after leaving the excitement of the hospital room. He opened his laptop, clicked it on, and brought up his email. Tom, a magazine publisher, asked if he had anything new. He could use a “touchy, feely” kind of story. Sean wasn’t much of a “touchy, feely” kind of guy, but he’d do his best since Tom had contacted him.
* * *
Hope Weaver shucked her scrubs and slipped into her pajamas. She grabbed an apple from the kitchen bar and as she bit into it, she checked her email. She clicked on the prayer request from her church. She smiled as she read about the safe arrival of the Holland twins.
“Thank You, God,” she whispered.
Hope made a mental note to stop in for a short visit before her shift at the hospital tomorrow.
She remembered her recent shift and her time with little Hannah and her mother. She had prayed for the five-year-old girl at the request of her mother, Karen. The desperation on Karen’s face clutched Hope’s heart. She had prayed that if it was God’s will, Hannah would be healed from her cancer. She prayed for peace and comfort.
Hope plopped into her cozy glider rocker and picked up the prayer shawl she had been crocheting for Hannah and her mother. A few more rows and then the fringe. As she moved the crochet hook in and out, shaping the stitches, Hope started to pray, just like her Mimi had taught her.
When the shawl had been thoroughly bathed in prayer, she began to hum the familiar hymn “It is Well.” At ten-thirty, she pulled the last string of fringe through and tightened the knot. She admired her handiwork, glad she could deliver it tomorrow. A huge yawn signaled bedtime, so she folded the shawl and laid it near her purse.
* * *
Sean jogged through the hospital entrance, nearly crashing into a wheelchair. He halted before making contact. “Whoa there. Sorry. I better slow myself down.”
A high-pitched laugh sounded from the child being wheeled out. Sean’s upbeat attitude slipped a couple of notches when he noticed the child’s bald head.
As he started to stroll on by, he spotted a light blue shawl draped around the child’s shoulders. It resembled the one his sister-in-law had. “That shawl,” Sean said before he could reign in his words.
The slender woman walking alongside the wheelchair smiled and nodded. “Hope.”
“I’m sorry. It gives you hope?”
The woman chuckled. “Well, yes, it does, but the nurse upstairs who made it. Her name is Hope.”
“Ah, I see.”
“It’s a prayer shawl,” the child said. She caressed it. “Here, feel how soft it is.” Before Sean knew what was happening, the child had grabbed his hand and nudged it across the shawl. “See?”
Sean knelt eye-level with the child. “Yes, I do see.”
“I’m Hannah. I’m five, and I get to go home today because of mission.”
“Because of mission?” Sean glanced up at who he suspected was Ha
nnah’s mother.
She laughed and shook her head. “She means remission. Her cancer is in remission, so we’re going home. Thank heavens for the shawl.”
“The shawl is why you’re going home?”
“Sorta. This is a prayer shawl. It represents a lot of diligent prayers lifted on Hannah’s behalf.” The woman patted the girl’s shoulder.
Sean’s mind suddenly kicked into reporter mode. “So, you say this Hope is a nurse here?”
“On the pediatric floor.” Hannah’s mother glanced out the door and back. “Here’s our ride. Nice talking to you, Mr.?”
“Sean. Sean Holland.”
Hannah waved as the wheelchair rolled toward the awaiting minivan. “Bye, Mr. Sean.”
“See ya, Hannah.”
Sean stood transfixed. Was this feeling in his gut the sign of a story in the making? He could certainly use the check he would get for that “touchy-feely” article for Tom. He was saving for an overseas trip somewhere. A good travel piece could give him another avenue of reporting. What could be better than traveling to some exotic location?
Sean jolted from his thoughts when the empty wheelchair whizzed past him, pushed by a tall man dressed in pale-green scrubs. Sean glanced at the gift bag in his own hand and remembered the reason he was here.
He rushed to the elevators to deliver the two teddy bears. With twin boys in the family now, there would be lots of buying double gifts.
* * *
Hope readied to leave, with one last check of her reports. She smiled when she glimpsed Hannah’s name. Her goal with each child remained a discharge from the hospital, even though her heart ached with the child’s absence. Better well than cooped up here. She thanked God for Hannah’s cancer remission. Hope was thrilled that Hannah and her mother were now believers. She had built a relationship with them over the little girl’s bouts in and out of the hospital over the last year. Their time together had given her the opportunity to share Christ. Hope’s Mimi had always said, “If we’re open to the Lord’s leading, He’ll let us in on what He’s doing.”
Hope made her way to the maternity floor to check on Beth and the twins before she left. She knocked lightly and heard a “come in” from inside. Beth sat up in the bed, cradling one bundle while the proud daddy held the other, sitting near the head of the bed.
Both looked up and smiled—beamed might describe the expressions more fully.
“Pretty as a picture,” Hope said in a low voice. “Just missing big sister.”
Beth nodded. “She’s with Nana and Grandpa. I’m sure she’s living it up.”
Richard rolled his eyes. “It’ll take days of detox after being with my parents.”
Hope chuckled. “Do you need anything?”
Before the couple could answer, a man breezed in. His hair was dark brown and coiffured in a short, messy, stick-up-on-top style. His baby blue eyes seemed to dance. He looked Hope up and down and then took a step back. “Oops, should I come back?”
Hope glanced at her attire. He probably thought she was the Holland’s nurse. “No, I’m off duty. Just came by to check on everyone.” She turned to go. “I’ll let you all visit.”
“Hope, wait,” Beth said.
At the mention of her name, the man’s head jerked around, and he stared at her. Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks under his scrutiny.
Richard stood. “This is my brother, Sean. Sean, this is Hope.”
Hope recognized the resemblance. Both brothers had baby blue eyes and broad shoulders.
Sean stepped closer and studied Hope’s face. It unnerved her.
“The same Hope who makes the magic shawls?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ll have to excuse him. He’s a writer, a reporter—full of questions, always looking for the next story. Am I right?” Richard glanced at his wife.
Beth chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.”
Hope looked Sean in the eyes and tried to keep her voice even and matter-of-fact. A warmth in her chest signaled meeting him wasn’t an accident. “I do make shawls, but not magic ones. They’re called prayer shawls.”
There was an awkward silence as Sean held her gaze. Finally he blinked and shook his head. “Yeah, prayer shawls. I met a little girl downstairs. Hannah?”
Hope smiled at the mention of Hannah and nodded. “Little Hannah. I’ve prayed a lot for her.”
“Obviously, Hannah and her mother think that’s why she’s going home and in remission.”
Hope noted the sound of doubt in his tone. She straightened as tall as her petite form would allow. “God answered our prayers. He does that, you know?”
Sean diverted his gaze. “So, how are those boys?”
Hope could see from Sean’s reaction that the subject of God was a sensitive one. Why? Sean’s parents and Richard and Beth were believers and active at the same church Hope attended. “I’ll leave you all to visit. I need to get home.”
As she started toward the door, Sean’s hand caught her shoulder. Their eyes met once again. “I hope I didn’t offend you. It was nice to meet you.”
Hope’s chest fluttered, signaling her increased pulse rate, but she wasn’t sure why. “Nice to meet you, too. Night.”
As she left the room, heading for the parking lot, her heart raced. She opened the door of her red and white Mini-Cooper and plopped into the driver’s seat. Why did Sean Holland have such an effect on me? I’m not even sure he’s a believer.
CHAPTER TWO
Sean arrived home, still unable to get Nurse Hope out of his mind. She was petite with light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her eyes were a tawny-green. Her mouth was small, but curved into the most pleasant smile. Hope’s whole countenance exuded a compassion that calmed yet drew him. Sean was sure her patients adored her.
He rubbed his hands down his face. This was not his type of girl. With her prayer shawls and talk of God, she might just be a little too fanatical for him. But, her story could be just the “touchy-feely” angle he was looking for.
Sean could endure the religious stuff to get his story. He had long since outgrown his need for anything to do with the church or God. His family was still into that, but his college years had enlightened him to a much broader view than the narrow thinking of Christians.
Sean’s mother became upset when they discussed religious beliefs, feeling she had failed him in some way since he had abandoned his Christian upbringing. He learned to steer away from such discussions, which often led to arguments and ended in his mother’s tears.
Sean rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it if neither she nor his father could sufficiently answer questions he posed on the world’s creation and God’s supposed justice.
Besides, he was a relatively good person who obeyed the law and gave to charity. If there truly was a God who was personal and cared about Sean like he’d been taught as a boy, God would have to prove it.
* * *
Hope relaxed across her bed, reading her devotional passage for the day, which focused on the story of the prodigal son. As she read the last word in the scripture section, Sean’s face flashed into her mind. She sat up, perplexed by the timing of the memory. Could it be that Sean was a prodigal? From his reaction to talk of prayer and God, it was a definite possibility. Could it be that God had a plan for her to help lead Sean back home?
A nudge within her spirit prompted her to begin creating another prayer shawl. Normally she knew specifically who her crocheted shawls were meant for. But, the feeling was so strong, she hurried to the living room, sat in her rocker, and began the first row, asking God’s guidance.
She could almost hear her Mimi begin praying aloud. How Hope missed her. She got lost in the memory of perching on the arm of the old den chair, peering over Mimi’s shoulder as the crochet needle moved rhythmically through the yarn. What would have happened to Hope if Mimi hadn’t been there to take her in?
Her eyelids grew heavy until she had to lay her half-finished shawl aside and head to bed. Tomor
row was Sunday, and Hope had no shifts to cover. After Sunday school and worship, she would have plenty of time to complete the prayer shawl. Sliding into bed, she still wondered who God had in mind to be the recipient.
* * *
Monday morning Hope folded the finished prayer shawl and placed it into her satchel along with her snack crackers, lunch, and e-reader. Upon arriving on the pediatric floor of the hospital, she stowed her belongings in her locker and proceeded to the nurses’ station.
She skimmed the list of patients charged to her care. The name Grace Williams practically jumped off the screen to her attention. Hope scanned the girl’s information. Grace was four years old and would be coming to the floor after her tonsils were removed and tubes were inserted into her ears.
Why had the little girl’s name stood out? In all likelihood, Grace would probably not even have to spend the night, unless there was some complication. But, her spirit was piqued, ready to do whatever the Lord required.
As Hope finished her first rounds, the charge nurse alerted her to Grace’s arrival. She hastened to the other end of the hall to meet her final patient. Jarod and Chris, hospital orderlies, steered the bed into room 245. A slender blonde-haired woman followed closely in behind. The woman gnawed nervously at a thumbnail.
“Ms. Williams?” Hope called to the woman.
Her head jerked toward Hope. “Yes?”
“Ms. Williams, I’m Hope. I’ll be caring for Grace.”
“I’m Tiffany.” She wrung her hands, which trembled slightly.
Hope laid a hand on Tiffany’s arm. “Everything will be fine.”
Jarod and Chris exited. “Thanks, guys.” She motioned Tiffany into the room in front of her. “Let me just take a look at this big girl.” Hope checked her information against Grace’s wristband and then began her normal vitals check.
“Is everything okay?” Tiffany’s voice shook.
“Everything looks fine. Why don’t you just have a seat? What can I bring you to drink?”
Tiffany eased into a chair, rubbing her upper arms. “Um, do you have something warm?”