The tears ebbed, and she sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Can I make a picture for her before I go catch the bus?”
“Sure,” I said. “Have some of those eggs, too, if you’re hungry.”
She did both, then was off to catch the bus at the end of our driveway. Sticking her carefully folded note in my pocket, I got my things together and headed for the hospital, leaving Ben to take care of Josh.
When I reached her hospital room, Grandma was sitting up in bed nibbling at food on a breakfast tray.
“It is a sin to call this food,” she complained. No Good morning, Kate. No I’m so glad to see you. Just: “Lying is a sin.”
Taking off my coat, I stepped a little closer. “Oh, Grandma, it can’t be that bad,” I said, although the sight of it made me ill. “The sooner you start eating, the sooner they’ll let you out of here.”
She jutted her chin out and gave me and the hospital food her wooden-Indian stare. “You shouldn’t have brought me here anyway. I was just fine.”
“No, Grandma, you weren’t.” I sat in a chair by the door and grabbed the TV remote, realizing that this was going to be a long day. “But I can see you’re back to normal now.”
My attempt at humor went unappreciated. “And it’s a good thing I am,” she retorted. “Your father’s just gone off and left me before I even awoke this morning. I have no idea where he is.”
“He’s probably getting some breakfast,” I said.
“I hope nothing’s happened to him.”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
“Will you look at that foolishness on television? That is why there are so many crazy people in the world. They watch too much television.”
“I can turn it off.”
“There’s nothing else to do. It’s too quiet in here.”
“I can make it louder.”
“Then we’ll disturb the old lady next door. She was up all night screaming that she was dying. Come to find out, she’s only having gall bladder surgery.”
“Well, she’s probably in pain.”
“She ought not to be screaming and keeping everyone awake.”
And so the conversation went for an hour or so, Grandma making it clear that she would not be content until we sprung her from prison. Even Dell’s note only cheered her up momentarily. By the time a nurse came in to draw her blood, I had a splitting headache and was feeling woozy from lack of breakfast. Standing up, I took some money from my purse to go to the snack machine.
“Katie, will you look at this?” Grandma motioned to me from behind the nurse. “I haven’t a vein left that isn’t bled dry. They’ve . . .”
I didn’t hear the rest. Images of needles and blood came into my head, blackness swirled before my eyes, and stars danced just for me. I dimly felt the coins falling from my hand, and I heard them ring against the floor. The last thing I remember was falling also.
When I awoke, Dr. Schmidt, a nurse, and my father were crouched over me. Grandma, in the bed, was straining to see over their shoulders.
“Ooooohhhh,” I groaned, feeling leaden and weak. “What happened?”
Dr. Schmidt smiled, dabbing a wet towel on my forehead. “You fainted. How do you feel now?”
Like I’m in the middle of a bad dream, I thought, supremely embarrassed to be laid out on the floor. “All right. Can I sit up now?”
They helped me into a slightly more dignified position. Dr. Schmidt pressed a digital thermometer against my ear.“You’re not running a fever. Let’s go down to the lab and take a blood sample. Do you think you can walk?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to think of any way to avoid having a needle stuck into my arm. “Do we have to take a blood sample? I just missed breakfast this morning, that’s all.”
Dr. Schmidt gave me that wise, fatherly look with which there was no arguing. “I just want to make sure this isn’t something your grandmother could catch.”
“All right, I’ll go,” I conceded, then climbed to my feet and teetered into the hall between Dr. Schmidt and the nurse. As we left, I could hear Grandma theorizing on what might be wrong with me.
Dr. Schmidt was not nearly so arbitrary. In the lab, he gave me a Twinkie to eat, then drew a blood sample.
Fifteen minutes later, he was back with a diagnosis. “It definitely isn’t something your grandmother can catch.” He smiled, sitting in the chair across from me and fiddling with his pen while I held my breath, wondering what he would say. “Kate, you’re pregnant.”
I stared at him in complete disbelief, unable to comprehend what he was saying. “What?”
He looked at me squarely and said it again. “You’re pregnant.”
Blackness descended on me, and I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the wall.
“I take it this wasn’t news you expected,” Dr. Schmidt said. I felt the warmth of his hand over mine.
“No,” I choked, not laughing, not crying, just numb.
“There’s nothing to worry about physically.” His voice seemed to be coming through a long tunnel. “You’re slightly anemic, and I’m going to give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins and iron. I’d like to see you in my office later this week so we can run all the normal tests.”
“O.K.,” I muttered, clutching the paper as he slipped it into my hand. “Thanks, Dr. Schmidt.” But at the moment, I was anything but grateful.
He patted my shoulder as he stood up. “Sit here until you feel better. I’ll tell your dad and your grandmother that you’re fine, but you need some fresh air and lunch. You can decide what you want to tell them after that.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, and then I was alone with the faint humming of machines and the soft buzz of hospital lights. And the terrifying reality that I had a five-month-old baby at home and another one on the way. It felt like the most horrible revelation of my life.
Two days before, things had seemed perfect. Grandma was well, the family had mended, Ben and I were ahead of the bills . . .
Now all of it was coming down like a house of cards. Grandma was in the hospital, the family was gone, there would be thousands of dollars of insurance deductibles and baby expenses to pay. . . .
I sat there with my head in my hands, unable to comprehend it all. How was I going to tell Ben? What was my boss going to say when I told him I was pregnant again? How would I be able to work with a toddler and a newborn? How would we survive financially if I didn’t work?
What was Ben going to say? What would he think? Fighting over the responsibility for one child was almost our undoing. How would we raise another so soon? Was it fair to Joshua, when he still needed so much of our time?
I don’t know how long I sat with those questions spinning through my mind. When I stood up, I felt as if I were watching myself in a movie—as if the person walking back to my grandmother’s room was not me.
Entering the room, I had the sudden fear that Grandma would see through me and know what was going on. I wasn’t ready to talk about it with anybody. Not yet.
Dad gave me a casual glance as I came in, and Grandma studied me with only a modicum of suspicion. Obviously, Dr. Schmidt had done a superior snow job on them.
“Are you feeling better?” Grandma asked.
I nodded, pretending to search for something in my purse because I couldn’t look her in the eye. I felt as if the truth would be obvious, even though I hadn’t known it myself until an hour ago. “Yes, but I have a splitting headache from landing on the floor. Would you mind too much if I went on home?” I felt guilty for asking, but I desperately needed to be alone.
My father didn’t give Grandma a chance to answer. Standing up, he handed me my coat. “It doesn’t make much sense for both of us to stay here, and there’s no point in my driving back to Hindsville when I have to catch a flight tomorrow. I’ll stay here again tonight and see you in the morning before I leave. You can bring my suitcase with the rest of my things.”
Grandma, who so seldom got my father’s undivided attention, was quick to
chime in, “Yes, Katie, you go on home. There is no sense all of us sitting around this horrid place. If you see Dr. Schmidt on the way out, tell him I am fine and it is time he let me out of here.”
“You listen to what Dr. Schmidt says,” I scolded, then kissed her on the cheek and departed as quickly as I could. I wanted to leave the antiseptic smell, and Grandma’s problems, and Dr. Schmidt’s revelation behind.
Unfortunately, they were passengers in my car as I drove home. Rolling down the window, I let the cold afternoon air flow over me.
The antiseptic smell finally subsided, and my stomach started to rumble. Halfway to Hindsville, I stopped at a mountaintop cafe—the kind of place where tourists come in the summer to take pictures of themselves high atop the mountains, to buy handmade Ozark baskets, wooden popguns, grapevine furniture, and other souvenirs. At two in the afternoon on a cold February day, it was deserted except for the waitress and someone rattling pots in the kitchen.
I ordered the beef stew special from the chalkboard as I walked past the counter, then proceeded into the empty dining room. The solitude felt good. Taking a seat at the far end by a long row of windows, I gazed at the miles of rolling, tree-clad mountains below. The view was serene, and I stared at it intensely, hoping to soothe my jumbled thoughts.
Only a half-hour drive waited between me and Hindsville. When I got there, I would have to tell Ben the truth. In my mind, I pictured him going about his daily routine, having no idea a bomb was coming and he was at ground zero. I imagined what he would say when I told him. I imagined him angry, sad, happy, depressed, somewhere in between, but the truth was I didn’t know what his reaction would be.
An hour and a half later, I had eaten my meal, looked over all the souvenirs, and walked the short path to the lookout point nearby. I could find no more reasons to avoid going home, so I climbed into the car and slowly proceeded.
Ben was in a good mood when I arrived at the church. He had just gotten a new consulting job and was on top of the world. I considered not telling him about the baby.
But I also knew that wasn’t fair. “There’s something I have to tell you.” I swallowed hard. “I found out at the hospital today that . . . I’m pregnant.”
Openmouthed, he stepped backward, catching himself against the desk, his face washing white. For a long moment, he stared at me, as if waiting for me to take back the words.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the heat of tears in my eyes.
He shook his head in disbelief. “B-but we’ve been . . . careful. We used . . .” He rubbed his forehead impatiently, then slapped his hand against the counter. “How could you be pregnant?”
I had asked myself the same question. Unfortunately I didn’t have the answer. “Birth control isn’t a hundred percent,” I said. The look of panic on his face made me feel sick inside.
He snapped suddenly to life and came forward, taking my hand in his. “Don’t get me wrong, Kate. I’m not unhappy about another baby. It’s just”—he grimaced, closing his eyes—“the timing.”
“I know.” And I did, perhaps more than Ben realized. I was contemplating being pregnant, trying to take care of Josh and Grandma, trying to go back to work, trying to keep all the bills paid. I took my hands from his and covered my face, feeling the hopelessness of the situation. “How are we going to pay for all of this?”
I felt him take me into his arms, the warmth of his closeness driving away my misery. “We’ll make it,” he promised, as if he knew it would be so. “We can do it. Things looked bad six months ago, and everything worked out.”
Stepping back, he drew my hands from my face and leaned down until our eyes met. “I think we just need to have a little faith.” He smiled that take-on-the-world smile. “If Grandma Vongortler were here, she’d say, ‘The Lord doesn’t give us more than we can bear,’ or the ever popular, ‘Be patient. Everything doesn’t have to work itself out today.’ ”
His imitation of a high-pitched old-lady voice made me smile in spite of myself. I couldn’t count how many times she had said that to me. Strangely, it always turned out to be true. “She uses that line on you, too?”
He shook his head. “Not directly, but I read the Baptist Buzz.”
“I guess I’d better start,” I joked, feeling my mood brighten as if someone had opened the window and let light into my world. Faith. It was time I gave mine a try. “How do you feel about being a father of two?”
Taking a deep breath, he pursed his lips and then exhaled slowly. “Strange,” he admitted. “But I can get used to it . . . I think.”
“You’re sure?” I pressed.
“Are you?”
“I guess I am.”
“Then I guess I am, too.”
Chapter 16
BY the end of March, Grandma had spent nearly eight weeks in the hospital battling a prolonged bout of pneumonia that she contracted while bedridden from the stroke. Dad, Karen, and Aunt Jeane had been back periodically to visit her. Aunt Jeane came to stay for a week while Ben and I took Joshua back to Chicago for his six-month heart checkup, where the doctors pronounced him healthy and normal in every way. No further surgery would be needed, just yearly checkups with a heart specialist. In a time when everything else in our lives seemed to be caving in, Joshua’s clean bill of health was an indescribable blessing.
We stayed in Chicago for a few days, enjoying the company of friends and checking on the town house. But Chicago didn’t feel like home, and the town house seemed strange, with its barren white walls and flawless plush carpet. Liz had moved in some of her furniture, and the place seemed to belong more to her than to us.
“Whenever you’re ready to move back in, let me know,” she said as we were getting in the car to return to Missouri.
“We will. Aunt Jeane says Grandma is still recovering from the pneumonia. We hope she’ll be out of the hospital soon, but we don’t want to leave her with a live-in until she’s somewhat better.” The truth was, I couldn’t imagine going back to Chicago and leaving Grandma alone with a stranger. I wasn’t sure how Ben felt about it. I was afraid to ask, and we didn’t have much choice, anyway. My leave would run out in May.
Liz laid a hand on my shoulder. “It’s a great thing you’re doing, taking care of your grandma like that.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling the press of tears. I didn’t feel heroic. I felt I was failing Grandma by being unable to make her well. “I guess we’d better get on the road.”
Liz nodded, stepping away from the car. “Have a good trip.”
I waved, and we drove away from our house. Yet I felt as if we were heading home.
On the way, Aunt Jeane called us and told us she was headed to the airport to catch her flight out, but that we could go to the hospital the next day and pick up Grandma. Dr. Schmidt had told us that her condition had not improved much, but Grandma was strong in her determination to return to the farm. She insisted that if she was going to die, she was going to do it there. Dr. Schmidt had finally given up and admitted that the hospital stay was doing more harm than good.
I wasn’t at all prepared for what greeted me when I entered Grandma’s hospital room the next day. In the week since I had seen her, she seemed to have lost thirty pounds, and her skin hung sallow and loose on her face and arms. Her legs seemed too weak to carry her as the nurses helped her out of the bed and into a wheelchair for the trip to the car.
Grandma batted the nurse away impatiently, motioning to me. “Oh, there is my girl!” she said as if she hadn’t seen me in a hundred years. She clasped her hand around mine and hung on. “Everything will be all right now that my Katie is here.”
The nurse tried to lift Grandma’s foot onto the footrest, and Grandma kicked at her impatiently.
“Grandma!” I gasped.
She looked at me with a pursed-lipped scowl. “Well, Katie, you don’t know. Ever since your Aunt Jeane left yesterday, they have been horrible to me. I told her they would be, but she insisted she had to go home to her job.” She ra
ised the lecture finger and wagged it at all of us. “This is the thanks I get. I never once left that child’s side when she was deathly sick with the mumps, pox, strep throat, and rubella.”
Laying a hand on her shoulder, I tried to soothe her as the nurse wheeled her down the hall. “Grandma, Aunt Jeane stayed as long as she could. She had to be back this morning, and she knew I was coming to get you.”
“Yes, well, everybody just shuffles me around. . . .”
Her one-sided conversation went on like that for an hour and a half until we reached Hindsville and picked up Joshua at Ben’s office. The sight of Joshua brightened Grandma’s spirits, and on the way home, she talked about how much he had grown and changed, and how glad she was to hear about his clean bill of health.
By the time we reached the farm, she was exhausted. I helped her into the downstairs bedroom, which Ben and I had vacated so that she could stay in the main house. She fell asleep looking pale, and tired, and sad. I stood in the doorway watching her and wondering what would happen now that she needed more care than a live-in helper could be trusted to provide. I kindled a faint hope that before my leave ran out, she would be well enough to stay at the farm. Aunt Jeane had temporarily put on hold our plans to hire help for her and had made arrangements with a nursing home, in case her health deteriorated.
As the days went by, Grandma was in better spirits, happy to be home at the farm and determined to get back to normal. But her body, which seemed to have operated on will alone over the past months, was slowly becoming her enemy. Nearly everything seemed to take more effort than she could muster. Most of the time she was reduced to lying in the recliner, asking us to bring things to her.
She frequently forgot events that occurred, or people who came to visit, or what we told her. Each time she caught me having morning sickness, she asked me what was wrong, and I was forced to confess again and again that I was pregnant. Each time she would remark on how young Joshua was, and how close together the babies would be, and how I would have my hands full. When she had managed to reduce me almost to tears, she would realize what she’d said, pat my hand or my stomach, and say, “What a blessing.”
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