The Heart of Memory

by Alison Strobel

  Why are you downcast, O my soul?

  Why so disturbed within me?

  Put your hope in God,

  for I will yet praise him,

  my Savior and my God.

  She had written out those lines after her first miscarriage and taped them to the bathroom mirror. The verse had still been there when she’d had her second miscarriage, but sometime in the years after she’d removed it; the paper had curled from shower humidity and the words were ingrained on her heart and memory. Why hadn’t they come to mind during the last two weeks?

  A disturbing thought came to her as she stared at the Scripture. She hadn’t prayed once—besides the brief and panicky, “Dear God, don’t let my heart go out!” after seeing the X-ray — since coming to the ER. Shaun hadn’t even suggested they pray together.

  What had happened to her faith?

  Like a panoramic movie, the last ten years of her life scrolled through her mind, revealing the incremental decline of her spiritual life. She saw herself on stages across the country, at the head of endless lines of fans wanting her signature in their books, at planning meetings and publisher meetings and marketing meetings. She didn’t see herself in church, or hidden away in prayer, or reading Scripture. She’d become a businesswoman for God, selling the promise of a meaningful life and cashing in on the desperate longings of harried mothers who wondered if their existence amounted to anything more than carpool schedules and menu planning to stretch a buck.

  “Shaun, we need to pray.”

  He looked up from his book, concern clouding his face. “Why, what’s wrong?”

  “We haven’t prayed at all since we came in. We haven’t prayed together at all since I’ve been home, even. And before the tour …” She shook her head. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen it. I’ve been so caught up in the … the business of ministry. I feel like such a cliché.” A humorless laugh escaped, and her chest burned with the effort. “What if all this is meant to be a wake-up call? We’ve lost our passion, we’ve lost sight of our — our need for God.”

  Shaun’s face was sympathetic. “Oh babe, I’m sorry you’re feeling like that.”

  “But you see it too, right? It’s not just me imagining this? I mean, when was the last time you and I were really on our knees together? It’s both of us. We’re going through the motions like this is just our career and not a ministry, not a mission.”

  Shaun nodded slowly, his eyes trained on the Bible in her lap and his expression unreadable. “No, you’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

  “We need to repent. Now.”

  Shaun looked to the doorway, then took her hands as she bowed her head. Tears slipped from her cheeks as she asked forgiveness for their prideful independence and lack of desire. Her spirit ached almost as much as her chest as she cataloged all the ways she’d turned Abide & Abound into just another job, all the ways her relationship with Christ had been reduced to a business contract, and Shaun mumbled his agreement along with her. As she prayed she felt a renewed sense of connectedness not only with God, but with Shaun. They’d been more like coworkers than man and wife for a while now; maybe this would reignite the flame they’d once had.

  They murmured their amens, Savannah wiping the tears from her face and Shaun giving her hands a brief squeeze before sitting back down in the chair beside her bed. A lightness in her soul gave her a surge of hope. No wonder her body was in revolt. Her spirit had been sick. But maybe now that they were back on track, she’d begin to heal.

  Savannah began reading the Psalms again. Now the words were leaping off the page and into her heart. A mix of remorse and relief had her alternately thanking God and confessing her sin as she read for the next hour. After a nurse interrupted her to check her vitals, she looked to Shaun. “Listen, regardless of what we find out today, I want you to call Pastor John and see if he can come over tomorrow. I think we’d really benefit from praying with him. Maybe we should start meeting with him once in a while, to keep us accountable. What do you think?”

  “Accountable? What do you mean?”

  Savannah was disappointed by his defensive tone. “Just … I don’t know, making sure we don’t slip back into that rut again. You don’t think that would be helpful?”

  “That makes me feel like you don’t think I can be trusted to do the right thing without someone breathing down my neck.”

  The comment was out of character. Savannah gaped in surprise. “Shaun, what on earth would make you think that? That’s not what I said at all, and it’s certainly not what I meant.” He had always been more private than she when it came to his faith, but she never would have expected him to respond like this. “You used to meet with Alex and Kurt and William once a month for breakfast — that’s the kind of thing I’m thinking of, just a checking-in now and then, someone to ‘report’ to besides just each other. That obviously isn’t working.”

  Shaun shook his head and waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “Look, when you’re out of here and we’re back to normal, then we can talk about that kind of thing. For now I don’t even want to think about A&A. I just want us to focus on getting you better.” He sat back in his seat and reopened the book he’d been reading, effectively ending the conversation whether she was finished or not.

  Hurt but too tired to fight, Savannah flipped back to the Psalms, but instead of reading she closed her eyes and began to pray.

  She awoke with a start, unsure of how long she’d been sleeping. The cardiologist stood at the foot of her bed. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your nap, Mrs. Trover,” he said, his deep voice soothing her. “But I wanted to talk to you about our next step.”

  Savannah clutched the Bible tightly with one hand. Shaun grabbed the other. “So you know what’s wrong?” Shaun asked.

  “Well, yes and no.” The doctor pulled the curtain as far to the other wall as it would go, giving them the most privacy they’d get in a shared room. He perched himself on the edge of the bed and consulted the printout he held. “Based on a lack of indicators for congenital issues, we’re guessing a virus has attacked your heart— which would make sense, given the flu you had. We just don’t know what virus, though honestly it doesn’t matter at this point. It’s the result that we’re concerned about — namely myocarditis. Heart failure, in layman’s terms. We’re going to keep you here, get you started on some medications that will hopefully help slow down the failure, monitor you for a few days to track your heart’s efficiency, and that will help us determine what the next step is. Typically we can’t do a lot for the myocarditis; we’ll treat the symptoms and give your body the rest and support it needs to heal the heart itself. To that end, we’ll keep you on the heart monitor to watch for arrhythmias, put you on a restricted diet, start you on digoxin and Lasix, and see how things go for the next week or so.”

  “A week?” Savannah rubbed a hand over her eyes. “That’s so long.”

  “Well, honestly, it may be longer than that. We just have to see what happens.”

  Shaun sat on the edge of his seat. “So what are you looking for over this next week then? And what are the options at that point, the possibilities?”

  “Well, if things go the way we hope they do, then your heart will begin to strengthen, we’ll see some improvements in energy and strength, and your heart’s efficiency will recover to where it should be. Most patients do recover from myocarditis with standard supportive treatment, and your previous health is a good indicator that you will.”

  Savannah was afraid to ask what was on her mind, but more afraid of the unknown. “And if I don’t improve? What then?”

  “Hopefully it won’t get to that. But depending on how things go, we may have to try some other medications, see if they slow the failure and help turn things around. A pacemaker may be necessary, if your heart’s rhythm gets out of sync. But if you continue to worsen at the pace you have so far, it’s possible you’ll need a heart transplant.”

  Savannah feared her heart would stop right then. She co
uldn’t even bring herself to look at Shaun, knowing she’d break down. “A transplant? It could get that bad?”

  “There is a possibility, yes.” He stood and hung the chart back on the foot of her bed. “But don’t dwell on that. Your chances for a full recovery are good.”

  He gave them a parting smile and nod, then left them to sit with the reality of a heart so broken it might never heal.

  SHAUN WOKE DISORIENTED, THE LAST of his dream still playing out in his mind as he opened his eyes to a room with too much light. He shook the disturbing images from his head and checked the clock, then groaned when he saw he’d overslept.

  By the time he got downstairs for breakfast it was almost nine o’clock. He heard Jessie in her room, talking on the phone, and realized he couldn’t leave for work until he told her what was going on with Savannah. She’d already been asleep when he’d gotten home the night before, and he’d been reluctant to wake her since he wasn’t sure if she had a morning shift. Apparently she did not, which meant she was probably on the phone with Adam; that conversation could go on for hours. Shaun decided to have his breakfast and then ask her to hang up so they could talk.

  “ … And then we could do a sundae bar for dessert, maybe see if The Sweet Shoppe would be willing to donate — oh wait, my dad’s here, hold on a sec.” She covered the mouthpiece of her cell with her hand. “Hey, Dad, what’s up? I didn’t know you were still here.”

  “I overslept this morning. Can we talk for a minute before I leave for work?”

  Her face clouded. “Yeah, hold on.” She went back to her phone. “Hey, let me call you back. My dad needs me for a minute. Cool? … Okay, love you too. Bye.” She hung up and tossed the phone on the bed. “It’s about Mom, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.” He sat across from her on the bed, their knees touching over the floral bedspread as he laid out the details, starting with Savannah’s collapse. “They’ve started her on some medications that might help — in fact, they seem fairly confident that they will. But she’s going to be in the hospital for at least another week, possibly more.”

  Her eyes got big. “Wow. That’s a long time.”

  He huffed out a chuckle. “Yes, it is.”

  “But then what?”

  “Well, hopefully the medications will help take some of the pressure off her heart and let it heal. Once it does …” he shrugged. “She’ll be back to normal.”

  Jessie nodded slowly. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So … anything else?”

  “Well, she asked me to get her laptop to her sometime today. I was hoping you could take it to her.”

  She made a face. “I don’t know if I’ll have time. Adam and I have to finish planning the freshman welcome dinner, and I’m working until five—”

  “Jessie, this is your mother. She’s lonely in there.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. “Come on, Dad, we both know she’s not desperate for me to visit.”

  He arched his brows in reproach. “You’re her daughter. Of course she wants to see you.”

  She sighed, slumping back against the pillows. “Come on, Dad. You know we don’t get along.”

  “I know — and that’s why I think you ought to go in and see her. How often do you two spend time alone together? Your relationship will never improve if you’re never together.”

  “But, Dad, hanging out with someone and hanging out in the ICU are completely different. Seriously, it’s just going to feel forced. She’ll know it, and I’ll know it, and it’ll be totally uncomfortable.”

  He remembered yesterday afternoon, when Savannah had gone off about them not being spiritual enough lately. Maybe with that personal awakening her eyes would be opened to how distant she was from her own daughter. “She may be a little … easier to relate to.” He put up his hands in surrender. “Look, you’re an adult; you can make your own decisions. Just bring her the laptop and leave if you want to.”

  “Oh, right, that would be really nice.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re telling me everything, right? They didn’t give her only a month to live or anything?”

  “Well, no. They think it’s serious, but they seem to think they’ll be able to get it under control.”

  “But what if they can’t?”

  He hadn’t wanted to get into the what if’s. He let out a long breath. “If they can’t, she might need a heart transplant.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh—oh wow.”

  “Yeah. But really, they don’t seem to think it will get that bad. Although being cooped up in there by herself might be enough to do her in,” he said, attempting a joke.

  Jessie looked at the clock, then back at him with a look of resignation. “I work at noon; I’ll go see her before then.”

  He stood and planted a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a good daughter.”

  “You’re a good dad. And guilt-tripper.”

  He laughed for the first time in two days. “Thanks, I think.”

  Shaun got in the car and headed for A&A. He hadn’t planned on working today, but Savannah had insisted. “The only thing you can do here is sit in an uncomfortable chair all day and read while I nap.” She was right, of course, but he still felt like he should be there — if for no other reason than to monitor how her spirits were doing. He hadn’t said anything to her before leaving, but by the time he was finally kicked out of the ICU, he was concerned at how much she’d slept and how much more drawn she looked. Certainly it was just the shock of the previous 24 hours of tests and news and constantly being awakened by nurses when she was trying to nap. But still …

  He shook the thoughts from his head. No use borrowing trouble. She was in the best place possible if she truly was deteriorating, and dwelling on it wouldn’t fix anything. He had other things to think about, like the hospital bills that would be rolling in soon. A&A had decent insurance, but it didn’t cover anything 100%, and he knew hospitals were notorious for gouging you on even the smallest items, like ten bucks for an aspirin. He needed to start planning now for when those statements came, because they had no money right now to pay them.

  He could think of a few ways to save some money here and there, like not going grocery shopping while she was away and just eating what they had in the house. Jessie usually had one meal at home, sometimes two, and he could skip breakfast. Over a week that wouldn’t amount to much, but he could get used to it now and then keep it up when Savannah came home. Over the long run it would help a little.

  But not nearly enough. He knew that for sure. The only way he could think to get more would be to skim more from A&A. And in order to do that, he’d need to get rid of Nick.

  Savannah would be mad when she found out. But he had to do it. What choice was there? If Nick was as conscientious as he appeared to be, it wouldn’t take long before he figured out Shaun’s scheme.

  He didn’t anticipate any pushback; one of the reasons he’d hired Nick was because one of his references mentioned something about Nick’s avoidance of confrontation. As long as Shaun stayed firm, chances were Nick would slink away and never come back.

  Shaun pulled into the parking lot and sat in his car for a minute, psyching himself up. He wished he could just get it over with, but he didn’t want to do it at the beginning of the day when everyone was around to see Nick pack up. He’d catch him around 4, ask him to stop by Shaun’s office before he left for the evening.

  As for what Shaun would do until then, he had his work cut out for him. Time to start reacquainting himself with how to do the job of an accountant.

  JESSIE TOOK THE LONG WAY to the hospital, giving herself time to let her emotions sort themselves out before facing her mother. She was angry with Shaun for guilting her into going. But mostly she was scared. Scared to go to the hospital, a place she’d only been one other time, to say goodbye to a dying friend in high school. Scared to see her normally vibrant and healthy mother in the stark white bed. And, despite her chronic irritation with Savannah, she
was scared her mother might die.

  Yes, Savannah drove her nuts, with her critical view of everything Jessie did and her disinterest in building a more solid relationship with her daughter. Yes, she was sick of being in Savannah’s shadow, of hearing someone’s squeal of excitement when first meeting Jessie and discovering she was the daughter of “that Savannah Trover.” Yes, she was tired of being an involuntary spokesperson for A&A. But a girl needs her mother, and Jessie was no exception.

  Knowing there was a chance, even a slim one, that Savannah might pass brought Jessie to tears. A tiny sliver of her heart still held to the dream of their relationship changing. Maybe it was time to start doing whatever she could to make that dream happen. It would have to be a two-way street, but if she didn’t get things going she might lose her chance.

  But how?

  Jessie parked the car in the visitor’s lot but kept it running as she analyzed her typical reactions with Savannah. She didn’t usually engage much, choosing instead to do whatever needed to be done with Savannah as quickly as possible and then retreating. And when Savannah said something that irked her, or hurt, or insulted, Jesse’s typical response was sarcasm or anger or passive-aggressiveness. She winced at the realization. Maybe their poor relationship wasn’t completely her mother’s fault after all.

  “Okay, so what do I do differently?” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the lobby doors, waiting for inspiration. “A little help?” she prayed aloud, glancing to the sky and then frowning when it dawned on her that she’d never really prayed about her relationship with her mom. Figures it would take the possibility of death for me to finally start. I’m sorry I’m such a dunce, God.

  She was about to give up and just go in when the word honesty came to her. “But I’ve been honest before. Haven’t I?” She sat with that thought for a moment, waiting to see if God revealed anything else. Honest in my responses to her, yes. Honest with my feelings, no.