Scrap Everything

by Leslie Gould

  “What?”

  “May I come out?”

  “Sure.” Rebekah paced to the back door. What was up with Elise? “Come on out, and bring the boys. We’re just hanging out, trying to stay warm. Mark can ride if he wants to—in the corral or field; the trail is too slick.”

  What’s going on with you, Mom?” Mark flipped the seat warmer on. Michael pressed his nose against the back window. Snow drifted from the treetops to the wet road.

  “I just need to talk with Rebekah. You can ride. Michael can hang out with Reid.”

  “Except we’re grounded from the computer.” Michael breathed on the window.

  Elise slowed for a corner. Rebekah had grounded Michael too. Good for her. Elise smiled.

  “Mom, what’s with you?” Mark slumped down in the seat. “You’re acting happy—or something.”

  “Church was really good today.” She took a deep breath. “The pastor spoke about Jesus’s compassion and trust.” Elise had been convicted about her lack of compassion—for Ted, for the wounded soldiers in Iraq, for John, oftentimes for Mark, and for Rebekah and Pepper. “What did you think of the sermon, Michael?”

  He shrugged.

  Elise continued, “Pastor Jim said that Christ will use us to show his compassion to others.”

  She paused. Ted had volunteered to go to Iraq because he felt it would be less disruptive for the family in the long run. His intentions were good, yet she had been curt with him since he had gone to Iraq. She had kept their conversations short, her e-mails to the point. She hadn’t figured out how to IM him. How could she be so stingy with her love?

  “This was the biggie.” She turned into Rebekah’s driveway. “He said if you love Jesus, he’s going to ask you to do something you don’t have the resources to do, something you can’t possibly do on your own.” She turned off the motor. “Because he wants us to trust him.”

  Mark opened his door. “Look at the horses. They’re all huddled under the oak tree. The whole herd.”

  Did he have any idea what she was saying? Elise turned off the engine.

  “Hi!” Pepper stood on the other side of the fence.

  Rebekah climbed over it, toward Elise. “We had to break the ice in the trough.”

  Elise and Rebekah headed to the house. Michael ran past them.

  “I can’t wait to tell you this.” Elise didn’t notice the cold. She was too excited. She spoke softly. “I decided today, during church, that I want to be tested.”

  “Tested?”

  Elise nodded.

  Rebekah opened the door. “No, Elise, we already talked about this. You have back problems.”

  “I talked with Ted. He doesn’t think it would keep me from donating.”

  “But he’s gone.”

  Elise nodded. “I can get tested and all of that and then schedule it for when he gets back.”

  “And you don’t plan to move to Seattle?”

  Elise laughed. “Is that what you thought I was going to do?”

  “I thought you might.”

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do in the long run. Right now, we’re staying here. Tell me what I need to do to be tested.”

  Rebekah shook her head. “No.”

  Elise slipped off her shoes. “Rebekah, I’m serious.”

  “Why?” Rebekah pulled her boots from her feet.

  “From the first moment I discovered Pepper’s blood type, I knew I should do it. But I’ve been too afraid.” She looked away. “Too selfish. But today’s sermon.” Elise sat down at the breakfast bar.

  “It was good, wasn’t it?”

  Elise nodded. “I really want to be tested, Rebekah. What do I need to do?”

  Rebekah hung her coat by the back door. “Okay, this will scare you off. First they’ll do a blood test to confirm that you’re type B. Then there will be a tissue test. If you pass those, you need clearance from your dentist and ophthalmologist. You’ll need a stress test and a CT scan and approval from a social worker.”

  “Slow down.” Elise laughed. “Let’s take it a step at a time. What’s the first thing?”

  “I’ll call Jamie, our transplant coordinator, tomorrow to see when we can start the tests.” Rebekah sat down on a stool. Tears sprang into her eyes. “Are you really serious?”

  Elise nodded. “Don’t tell Pepper yet. I don’t want her to be disappointed if I’m not a match.”

  “Good plan.” Rebekah pulled a tissue from her pocket.

  Elise smiled. She felt happy—happier than she had felt in months, maybe years.

  Patrick swung the back door open, scraping his boots on the mat. “Pepper and Mark are going to ride in the pasture. I told Mark he could ride Sky.”

  “Are you sure?” Elise asked, alarmed.

  Rebekah nodded. “It’s time. He’s been doing great.” Rebekah patted the chair beside her. “Patrick, sit down. We want to tell you something.”

  Elise stopped the Volvo in front of the school.

  “Thanks, Mom!” Michael jumped from the backseat.

  Mark opened the door slowly. Elise refrained from asking him about his homework. Mr. Jenkins had e-mailed her last night that Mark hadn’t turned in his last three assignments. Elise hadn’t answered.

  “Are you coming out to Rebekah’s to ride this afternoon?” Mark grasped the door handle.

  “I’m going to Portland.” She had passed the tissue test, and she would meet with the social worker today, but she hadn’t told the boys what she was doing.

  “Are you going alone?’

  “No, Rebekah is going with me.”

  “What are you up to, Mom?”

  “Errands. Maybe lunch.” She smiled through her lie.

  “You’ve been going to Portland a lot lately.”

  Elise drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

  “I think you’re being tested to give Pepper a kidney.”

  Mark climbed out of the car and stood with the door open.

  “I thought you wanted me to donate a kidney to Pepper,” Elise said. “Both you and Michael said that.”

  “We do. Is that what you’re doing?”

  Was he worried about her? Elise nodded. She couldn’t keep up her deception. “Dad will be home by the time of the surgery if I qualify.”

  “Mom, I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Because I know it wasn’t an easy decision.”

  She smiled. “Doing the right thing isn’t always easy.”

  “It’s kind of like taking care of horses.” Mark yawned. “Some days I just don’t want to do it, but it’s the right thing to do. They need me.” He paused. “I’m going to talk to Patrick about paying me less. Pepper said they don’t have much money right now.”

  “Mark, please don’t tell the other kids.”

  He nodded, closed his door, and wrestled his bike from the back. “Bye, Mom.” He slammed the hatch.

  Rebekah dozed in the passenger seat as Elise turned on Terwilliger Boulevard and wound her way up the hill. Bare deciduous trees stood alongside fir and spruce trees, covering the steep slopes that lined the roadway. An ambulance blared, and Elise pulled off onto the narrow shoulder.

  Rebekah stirred. Elise eased back onto the boulevard, heading to the parking garage. The Willamette River stretched below, bending toward downtown.

  Her cell rang as they walked across the wide, long skybridge. “It’s Ted,” she said to Rebekah.

  “I got your e-mail.” He often jumped right into the middle of a conversation when he called. She knew that he was in a hurry. “I think that you should have the surgical procedure instead of the laparoscopic surgery. Anything that increases the chances of the kidney’s success and longevity is worth it.”

  Elise agreed. Jamie had explained that more donors were opting for the laparoscopic procedure because the recovery was two weeks instead of six, but the transplants were more successful with the surgical procedure. It could mean years to Pepper in the future. “I’m really prou
d of you, Elise.” He paused. “I just want to make sure you don’t feel pressured. Especially by me. I was really out of line.”

  “You were.” She chuckled. “I don’t feel pressured, honestly. I feel this is what God wants.”

  “I’ll be home to take care of you in less than a month.” They chatted for another few minutes. Rebekah sat down at a table halfway across the skybridge. She seemed tired.

  The weather had been cool in Iraq, in the eighties. “It’s the rainy season.” Ted chuckled. “And not a cloud in the sky.”

  “It’s sunny here too. I can see Mount Hood and”—she turned toward the north—“Mount Saint Helens. I’m on the skybridge.” It was the first sunny day in a month. Elise leaned closer to the window. Birds flew up from the river below and over the treetops. Miniature cars inched across the bridge.

  “I totally support you in this, Elise. You’re doing a wonderful—” Ted’s voice became garbled.

  “I’m losing you.” She turned away from the window and pulled out the antenna on her phone. “Ted?” He was gone. She hurried to catch up with Rebekah, and they crossed over to the clinic.

  “It will be a few minutes.” The receptionist returned Elise’s medical card, and she sat down next to Rebekah in the crowded waiting room.

  “You need to see her alone,” Rebekah said as the social worker called Elise’s name. “I’ll wait here. If they need me for anything, they’ll ask.”

  Elise followed the social worker through the hall to a back office. “You’re doing a wonderful thing to consider donating a kidney.” The woman smiled. “We want you to know that being tested and passing the tests doesn’t mean you’re committed to donate. You can change your mind at any time.”

  Elise nodded.

  “Your chart looks good. The blood and tissue samples match. You’re healthy.” The social worker leaned back in her chair.

  Elise exhaled. “I had a back injury and took painkillers for quite a while.” Elise uncrossed her arms. “I was worried about that.”

  “The kidney scan looks good.” The social worker lowered her voice. “And so does your liver.”

  Elise tried to relax. If she hadn’t damaged her kidneys or liver, maybe she hadn’t damaged Mark, either.

  “What does your family think about you donating? Let’s start with your husband.”

  “He’s an anesthesiologist, so from the start he thought I should be tested.”

  “I see he’s in the army.” She leaned closer to the paperwork. “Or retired army? Which is it?”

  “He was retired, in the inactive reserve for a couple of months, and then he got called back in.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Iraq.”

  “Well, that complicates things.” The social worker closed the file, marking the spot with her index finger.

  “He’ll be home by the time of the surgery.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Elise wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Well, it is the army. I think he’ll be home by then.”

  “Are you worried about him?”

  “About his safety?”

  The social worker nodded.

  “Not really,” she lied.

  “I see you have two boys. Are they worried about you?”

  Elise shook her head. “They’re both very supportive of this; both encouraged me to do it. They would, if they could.”

  “Don’t be surprised if they get clingy in the next little while. This is stressful for them too. Especially with their dad being overseas.”

  Elise nodded. They talked about Elise’s availability, her support system, finances, and her recovery time. “You’ll need to have someone else lined up to care for you after the surgery in case your husband isn’t back in time.” The social worker placed the file on her desk and clasped her hands together. “What concerns do you have?”

  Elise shook her head. “I don’t think I have any.” She paused. “Well, maybe one. I don’t want Rebekah and Pepper to feel indebted to me. I just want to do this, have it work, and then go on with our lives.” Actually, she didn’t think Pepper would feel indebted; it was Rebekah she was worried about.

  “They will feel indebted to you.”

  “What can I do about that?”

  “Accept it.” The social worker paused. “There is one thing you can do. It won’t help in the long run, but it might help right after surgery. Don’t let Pepper see you for a few days. The donor is usually in more pain than the recipient; it will be a harder surgery for you. That often makes the recipient feel guilty. I doubt if you can keep Rebekah away after surgery, though.” The social worker laughed. “But we can probably convince Rebekah to have Pepper wait.”

  Elise wrinkled her nose. “How soon do you think the surgery will be?”

  “When do you think your husband will be back?”

  “In a month. Pepper’s been losing kidney function. Do you think she can last that long?”

  “Hopefully. The coordinator, Jamie—”

  Elise nodded.

  “—will contact the surgery team and see what their schedule looks like. Pepper is definitely a priority around here.”

  “So, in just over a month?”

  The social worker nodded.

  “What’s next?” Elise slung her purse over her shoulder.

  “You’ll meet with the coordinator again and go over the rest of the tests. You may meet with me anytime you want.” The social worker pulled a document from a green file on the desk. “I have an agreement to go over with you, for you to sign. Go ahead and read it.”

  “Could Rebekah come in for this part? I think she’d like to be a part of this.” Elise hesitated. “But first I want to call my husband.”

  Elise stood on the skybridge and called Ted. Hopefully he was still awake. “I’m a match. And approved. I sign the donor document in just a minute.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Ted, just one thing. I want you to be here. The thought of going through surgery without you here is as bad as Christmas without you, almost as bad as childbirth without you.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Are you being overly optimistic? Because you know how much I hate hospitals.”

  “No, baby. I’m ninety-nine percent sure I’ll be there.”

  “And if you’re not here?”

  She could sense him smiling from seven thousand miles away. “Things will work out.”

  Elise hurried back to the waiting room and then down the hall with Rebekah. They sat down in front of the social worker’s desk. Elise read the document out loud. “Living Kidney Donor Agreement.” She took a deep breath. “The donor will undergo an operation called living donor nephrectomy during which one kidney will be removed. The recipient will receive the kidney during the operation called renal transplant.” She paused and then continued, “The kidney will be donated as a gift and will create no financial or material encumbrances on the recipient, either before or after the operations.”

  Tears filled Elise’s eyes. A gift. Like compassion. A gift to be accepted by the recipient.

  “Sign at the bottom if you agree.” The social worker handed her a pen.

  Tears stung Rebekah’s eyes. She pulled a tissue from the pocket of her coat as Elise signed the document. One tear escaped, then another. She put her arm around Elise. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Rebekah, don’t make me cry.” Elise laughed a little. The social worker handed her a tissue.

  “Rebekah”—the social worker pointed to the recipient line—“as Pepper’s mother, you sign here.”

  Rebekah signed, slowly and purposefully, and then hugged Elise again, a big mama-bear hug. “Thank you. That’s all I can say. Thank you.” Rebekah grabbed two more tissues from the social worker’s desk and handed another one to Elise.

  Rebekah drove on the way home while Elise slept. They would tell the kids. All four would be at the farm. Michael and Reid’s practice had been canceled because of a wrestling match in th
e gym. Rebekah would drive straight home and then get her truck later.

  Her plan had not been God’s plan. God’s plan, his design, was so much better. Pepper would be so relieved that Elise could give her a kidney, that it wouldn’t come from someone she didn’t know or a cadaver.

  Rebekah stopped the Volvo in front of the fence. Mark walked in a circle on the inside of the corral; Sky trotted around him.

  “Thanks for driving,” Elise said.

  “Did you have a good rest?”

  Elise nodded.

  The moms climbed out of the car and leaned on the railing. Mark kept his eyes on the horse.

  “He’s good,” Rebekah whispered to Elise, “really good.”

  Sky dipped his head, snorted, and headed to Mark.

  “Good boy.” Mark’s voice was gentle. He pulled the saddle off the fence and swung it onto the horse.

  “Where’s Pepper?”

  “In the barn, getting the mare.”

  Rebekah swung the barn door open. “Pep?”

  “Back here.”

  Elise followed Rebekah.

  “We have good news, sweetie.” Rebekah shoved her hands into her back pockets.

  Pepper poked her head out of the mare’s stall. She wore her blue cowboy hat over her braids. She smiled her pixie grin.

  “We found a match.” Rebekah smiled, stopping at the open stall gate.

  “What?” Pepper slipped the bit into the horse’s mouth.

  Elise climbed on the rail. “I’m a match. An all-around kidney match for you. I signed the donor document.”

  Pepper shook her head in disbelief.

  “Elise got tested. We didn’t tell you; we didn’t want you to get your hopes up.” Rebekah opened the gate to the stall. “And I signed the recipient document. It’s all settled.”

  Pepper kissed the mare on the nose, and then ran into her mother’s arms, reaching out with one hand for Elise.

  Patrick came home late. “They’re working you too hard.” Rebekah pushed a load of clean, unfolded clothes that were piled on her side of the bed onto the floor.

  “I’m trying to do everything I can so that when Pepper has surgery, they’ll owe me comp time.” Patrick picked up the clothes and threw them in the chair.