The Heart of Memory

by Alison Strobel

  She’d never told Savannah flat-out how their messed-up relationship bothered her, or how Savannah’s criticism hurt, or how Savannah’s lack of interest in Jessie’s life made her feel like her mother didn’t really care about her as a person. It was time to lay it all out on the table—or, at least, to stop biting back her true feelings and opting instead for snark and sarcasm. If she didn’t start it now, she might never get the chance; and if, God forbid, Savannah really did die, Jessie didn’t want to spend the rest of her life wondering how different things might have been if she’d just spoken her mind.

  But could she do it?

  “Oh boy,” she sighed. “God, help me.” The prayer seemed to be her new mantra. She turned off the car, pulled the laptop case from the front seat, and headed for the hospital.

  SAVANNAH WAS WOKEN BY YET another nurse checking her vitals. She groaned but didn’t have the energy to open her eyes and administer a glare of annoyance. “Again? You have got to be kidding me.”

  The nurse chuckled. “Oh honey, you’ll go right back to sleep. Not like there’s anything else for you to do.”

  “You’re telling me.” Savannah sighed, then jumped when the phone rang. “Hallelujah, conversation.” She pried open her eyes and saw the nurse smirking as she handed Savannah the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mom, it’s me.”

  Savannah warmed at the voice. “Oh, sweetheart, hello.”

  “I’m downstairs, but if you don’t want visitors it’s totally okay—”

  “Of course I’d like to see you. Come on up.” Savannah handed back the receiver with a smile. That was a pleasant surprise. Hopefully it would be pleasant, anyway. They hadn’t talked much since Savannah’s failed attempt at emotional intimacy with her daughter. Maybe this would give her a chance to redeem herself. She wouldn’t be out of the hospital before Jessie went back to school, and then her opportunities for conversations would be even more scarce.

  Jessie’s face peeked in the door a few minutes later, just as Savannah was about to close her eyes again. “Sweetheart, come in,” Savannah said. “Thanks for coming. Oh, my laptop, wonderful. Just set the bag on the floor. I’ll get it later.” She reached out her hands to give Jessie a hug, noting with an ache the way the girl hesitated, eyeing the heart monitor before leaning down to her. Savannah hadn’t seen a mirror in two days; no doubt she looked awful.

  “Did I wake you up? You look really tired. Like, really tired.”

  Savannah gave her a wan smile. “I am. But I can sleep all day, so don’t worry. If I could get more than an hour’s sleep at a time I might feel better. They poke and prod you at all hours here. It’s ridiculous.”

  Jessie’s eyes slid back to the machine. Savannah couldn’t blame her. It was almost eerie, seeing the little green line jumping like the stock market chart, just like in the movies. “It’s mesmerizing,” Savannah admitted. “I spend way too much time staring at it, like it’s going to do something different all of a sudden. Or stop.”

  Jessie’s gaze snapped to hers, and Savannah winced.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be so noir.”

  Jessie turned her back to the machine and looked around the room. “So, Dad said you’re stuck here for a week?”

  “Yes. A very long week. But the laptop will help, if I can find the stamina to use it. Sit down, if you want.” She nodded to the chair beside the bed and smiled. “Terribly uncomfortable, I’ll tell you right now. So are you working today?”

  “At noon, yeah; I’ll have to leave in half an hour.”

  “That’s fine, I understand. You were sweet to come in; I appreciate it.”

  Jessie smiled slightly. “Sure.”

  “So when do you go back to campus?”

  Jessie smiled. Savannah loved how Jessie’s face lit up like Shaun’s when she was excited about something. “The 27th. That’s the day before the freshmen orientation starts, and Adam and I are in charge of the welcome dinner. In the past it’s been this casual thing, right? But we decided to make it sort of like a formal, with the jazz combo doing background music and some of the upperclassmen—”

  “You know, when I started there in ‘79, they held a separate welcome party for the women. So few women enrolled they just set up a table in the kitchen. They gave us a welcome tea, with doilies on the table, like we were a bunch of grannies or something. We all just died laughing.”

  The memory came from nowhere, and made her want to laugh again, if only she had the energy. That was the first day she’d met Tabitha. She hadn’t thought of her in years. She knew how sad it was to admit that. “I had that great Farrah Fawcett feathered ‘do and used half a can of Aqua Net to get it to stay.”

  She caught Jessie’s unreadable expression and gave a weak chuckle. “My gosh, I sound like a granny. Actually, I feel like one today, too.” She closed her eyes briefly, trying to summon the strength to keep up the conversation without feeling like her chest was going to explode. “So, you must have your classes picked out, then?”

  “We did that before school ended in May. I told you the classes I was taking when I got back, remember?”

  “You did? Oh, that was right before I left for the tour, wasn’t it? I was probably distracted; tell me again.”

  Jessie was silent for a moment, then said with a sigh, “Child psych, worldviews, 21st Century Issues, and language arts.”

  “That’s an interesting load. I think my junior year I took six classes both semesters. It was the one year I really put the pedal to the metal. You should consider picking up a fifth class. You don’t want your senior year to be—”

  “I’ve got all my semesters already planned out, Mom. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I didn’t say you didn’t, Jess. I just don’t want you to be overwhelmed your senior year, that’s all. Leave space to enjoy it.”

  “I’m not planning on graduating next year anyway, Mom. Dad and I talked about this, remember? I’m going to take an extra semester so I don’t have to kill myself with school and work.” She huffed out a breath. “I know he told you, you just don’t remember. As usual.”

  Savannah frowned. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It must be this stupid heart thing—”

  “No, it’s not, Mom.” Jessie rolled her eyes. “This is how you always are. If it doesn’t pertain to you, you don’t remember and you just plain don’t care.”

  Horror dawned on Jessie’s face. Before Savannah could think of a response to the completely unexpected accusation, Jessie hopped up from her seat as though electrocuted. “I should go; there was traffic.”

  Savannah watched Jessie disappear, her heart wounded in another way. She and Jessie had never connected; she knew she wasn’t always the most attentive mother, but to insinuate that she was self-centered to the point of ignoring her only child — that was ridiculous.

  She hit the call button, and a nurse arrived a moment later and pulled the laptop from its case and set it on Savannah’s lap. Her thoughts hummed around in her head, though her body barely had the strength to type. She opened her mind-mapping brainstorming program and began to slowly take notes. Surely she had a book somewhere in this mess. Certainly that’s what God was expecting her to do with this experience — turn it into a way to minister to other Christian women facing hardship.

  Scripture re: illness/hardship/suffering. Comforting the afflicted. Other ppl’s stories, not just mine? She stopped frequently to let her thoughts play out or her mind wander, but also to rest her hands and eyes. She had fatigue in every muscle. She tried to be patient with herself and her limitations, but finally during yet another break she slapped the laptop shut with a grunt of anger.

  Frustrated, she closed her eyes and fought tears. She hated crying when people might see her. She also hated being so weak, a prisoner to the strength-sucking heart disease that was hindering her from living the life she loved. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so still and unproductive.

  The light bulb in her spirit went off again, just as
it had the day before. She was doing it again—trying to do, do, do instead of just abiding with God and letting their time together overflow from her heart and into the way she ministered. That’s how A&A—Abide and Abound—had gotten its start. She was embarrassed to see how few hours it had taken to fall back into the trap of treating her relationship with God like a means to a career.

  Savannah reached for the Bible that was still sitting on the bed beside her. She set it on the laptop and opened it to the Psalms again, her new favorite book. After sitting still for a moment to catch the breath that was stolen from her nearly every time she moved, she began to read, soaking up the words and trying to focus on God alone instead of the noise of the hospital and the urge in her head to keep doing. She didn’t last long before her eyes closed against her will, the muscles too spent to continue. Prayer became her next outlet, and occupied her until she fell asleep again.

  SHAUN DIALED NICK’S EXTENSION, IGNORING the fist in his gut. “Hey, it’s Shaun. Listen, I’m tied up for pretty much the rest of the day, but could you stop by my office before you leave this evening?”

  Nick was amiable, as always, and Shaun indulged in a brief moment of self-hate before going back to the budget he’d been reviewing. At least Nick was single — no family to support, no girlfriend to disappoint, at least not that Shaun knew of. He tended not to get too close to his accountants.

  Shaun had spent most of the day combing through the budget, thinking the stingiest, most miserly thoughts he could to try to find more places to cut back. The biggest possibility was in relocating to a cheaper building. If they could slice off at least a quarter of their rent, he’d feel a lot better. And with one less cubicle needed, they’d fit in a smaller space. The fact that he was about to get a whole salary back into the coffers helped, too, though he didn’t feel nearly as good about that.

  Nick knocked on Shaun’s door at five o’clock. Shaun felt the tremble start in his hands as he waved him in. He began to clean up the mess of papers on his desk to give them something to do for a moment. “Hey, Nick, take a seat.”

  Nick sat just in time to catch the container of pens that teetered off the back edge of Shaun’s desk when it was pushed by a mound of paper. “Didn’t get a chance to ask you today, how’s Savannah?”

  “Ah — still hanging in there. Thanks for asking,” he said with a terse smile. Why did Nick have to be such a nice guy? “Nick, I — I’m going to just get right down to it, and I hope you’ll forgive me for not giving you a little more warning. With Savannah and all, I’ve been a bit distracted, but I knew I had to get on with this.” He cleared his throat, clutched his trembling hands out of sight in his lap. “You’re the accountant, so you know that our budget is tight, and this economy is struggling.” Nick nodded along with him, a politely curious look on his face. “You haven’t been here long, and I know I never went over with you the trends in giving this organization has seen since its inception ten years ago, but I’m confident, unfortunately, that the resource and book purchases are going to continue to decrease as our economy continues to struggle. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I’m a stock-market-playing kind of guy, and I make it my job to know what the market is doing so I know how to best invest and sell. Everything is pointing to things getting much worse before they get any better.”

  Nick cocked his head. “Really? I thought things were already starting to get better.”

  Shaun shook his head. “No. It looks that way on the surface, but the foundation of the market is cracking. Point being, we as a ministry need to start planning now, while we’re still in the black and not in crisis mode. We need to prepare for the day our giving and sales drop off so we can stay afloat. I’ve been trying to think of ways we can tighten our belts here, start stashing more into our savings, and one of the ways I can help make that happen is by taking on more responsibilities. One of the jobs I’m qualified to do here is the accounting.”

  Understanding dawned in Nick’s eyes. “Ah … I see.”

  “You’ve done an excellent job in the short time you’ve been here, Nick, and I can’t tell you how awful I feel letting you go. But we’ll give you a month’s severance and a glowing recommendation, which I hope will get you back into the job force somewhere soon.” Shaun slid a confidentiality notice across the now-cleared desk, then held out a pen to Nick. “I’ll stay late; you can take whatever time you need to clean out your desk.”

  Nick’s expression clouded as he took the pen. “Oh, so — today?”

  Shaun held his gaze steady. “I’m afraid so.”

  Nick studied the confidentiality notice for a moment, then opened his mouth as though to speak, but quickly shut it again and signed. “I’m sorry I won’t get to see Savannah before I leave. Please let her know Christy and I are praying for her.”

  “Christy?”

  “My girlfriend.”

  Dang it. “Oh. Well, thank you, to you and Christy, and I will definitely let Savannah know.” He stood and shook Nick’s hand before he left, then waited for the door to close and Nick to disappear from view before vomiting his lunch into the trash.

  THREE DAYS LATER, THE LAPTOP and the book both lay forgotten on the table beside her bed. She spent most of her time sleeping now, partly to escape the pain that was worsening in her torso, but mostly because she simply couldn’t stay awake.

  Her mind was having a heyday, however, playing out in dreams all the things she couldn’t do in reality. This time it was a marathon. She’d never run a marathon before, never even had the inclination, but here she was, flying past the cheering crowds that lined the street in some nameless city. They were shouting her name in unison, urging her on; she could see the ribbon stretched across the lanes in the distance. Van. Van. Van.

  “Van? Van? Hey, babe, it’s me. Wake up.”

  The scene faded away as Savannah came back to consciousness in slow motion, her senses awakening one at a time. She opened her eyes and saw not only Shaun, but the cardiologist as well. Neither knew how to keep their thoughts off their faces.

  She smiled at Shaun and lifted a finger in greeting. “Hey.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Shaun kissed her forehead. “Hey, babe. I’m sorry to wake you up, but Dr. Wells wanted to talk to us; I knew you’d want to hear everything firsthand.”

  She nodded, then raised her brows at the doctor whose lousy poker face made her aching heart sink. “Your face … gives you away.”

  He gave her a faint smile. “One of these days I’ll have to take an acting class.” He held her file, which had grown thick in the five days since she’d been admitted, but didn’t look through it like he usually did as he spoke. “I wish I had better news—or at least an explanation. But I don’t. Your body just isn’t responding like we’d expected to the medications. Your ejection fraction is still dropping; the last reading was 18%. For it to get back up to 60% now would be a miracle; I’ve never seen a recovery that major. We think it’s time for a transfer to University Hospital up in Aurora.”

  Savannah felt Shaun’s hand tighten around hers. The sound of his breathing changed; she knew he was fighting back tears. She tried to squeeze back and hoped he could feel her feeble attempt.

  “They’re very experienced there; you’ll be in excellent hands. They’ve got more resources for this kind of illness than we do; and if you need a transplant, they can get you on the list and handle the surgery. Your nurse will be in with the transfer paperwork shortly; once we get that done we’ll get you into an ambulance and they’ll take you up.” He looked to Shaun, then Savannah. “Do you have any questions?”

  Questions? Savannah wanted to laugh. Of course she had questions. But she didn’t have the mental strength to line them all up. She looked up to Shaun. Shaun coughed then said with a strangled voice, “What are the chances … I mean, how long will it be before she gets a new heart?”

  “They’ll be able to give you that kind of information in Aurora.”

  “Will a new heart fix every
thing?”

  The doctor’s face brightened. “It should, yes. That’s the source of all the trouble right now. If we get that fixed, you should be good as new, barring any rejection complications. I don’t know the stats on that, either — another question Aurora can help you with. But they’ll go over all that with you when you get there.”

  Dr. Wells took Savannah’s hand. “I’m sorry things are working out this way, Savannah. You’ve been a pleasure to work with. Come back and visit us when you’re back to your old self.” He nodded to them both, then left.

  Shaun sank into the chair beside her. “It’s not like we didn’t see it coming. But having it all official …” He coughed again, his way of covering for his breaking voice. She squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed back, which made her smile. “Okay, time for the really awkward conversation.” He looked up from his lap, but still not into her eyes. “It’s been ten years since we looked at our will, Savannah. We should do that … soon.”

  She blinked at him. “Seriously? Don’t jinx things!”

  “I’m not jinxing them; I just want to make sure we’re prepared. It’s the Boy Scout in me. Our life now is nothing like it was a decade ago; we need to account for that, make sure everything is covered. Think of it this way—if we do it, we won’t need it, right? It’s a law of nature. You prepare for the worst so that the worst doesn’t happen.”

  She turned her head away, her gaze going to the unremarkable view beyond her second-floor window. She knew in her heart he was right, but still, the thought of making those kinds of preparations … actually, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she should probably make some other preparations as well. Just in case.

  “Memorial service, too. So we don’t need it.”

  “Oh, Van.” Shaun’s voice cracked. She took his hand as tears came to her own eyes. She didn’t have the strength to fight them back, or to even cry them out. They slipped down her cheeks, and she conjured the image of her dream, her body bounding through the street, her hair long—though she’d had it short for years — flowing behind her. She imagined handing the dream to God as she prayed, flat-out begging that this not be the end.