Showers in Season

by Beverly LaHaye

  Concerned by something on the baby’s heart monitor, the doctors decided to do a cesarean. She protested, afraid the anesthesia might hurt the child, but the doctors assured her it would be much easier on the baby than a normal delivery. When she finally consented, they wheeled Tory into the delivery room with Barry by her side. As the anesthesia began to take effect, Barry held her hand.

  “What if God is going to punish me for what I’ve done?” he asked her. “What if he’s going to give me what I wanted? What I was praying for? How could I have wanted my baby to die? Can he forget that?”

  “If I can, he can,” Tory said. “I don’t have any forgiveness in me, except for what he gave me. And I’ve forgiven you.” She took his hand and squeezed hard. “But the truth is, he’ll have to forgive me, too. I’ve had so many awful thoughts go through my mind. Thoughts about what she’ll look like, how embarrassed we’ll be to take her in public…” Her voice broke off, and she sucked in a sob. “Oh, Lord, if you let her live, I won’t be ashamed of hen I’ll love her and treat her the way you treat me. Like a precious, beloved child who belongs to me.”

  “Me, too, Lord,” Barry whispered, too overcome with emotion to get the words out clearly. “Oh, I’ll teach her things and be patient with her, and I’ll protect her like you protect me. I’ll protect her from others…and from herself. I’ll be a parent like you. Just please give me the chance.”

  Barry stayed beside her as they began to do the surgery, and when the baby was pulled free, Tory relaxed back into her pillow, holding her breath and listening for some sign that her baby was alive.

  A team of doctors, nurses, and technicians surrounded the baby, and they hurried her across the room and began to work on her.

  For several moments, there was silence, and Tory lay helpless on the table, clutching Barry’s hand.

  “Barry, is she alive?” she asked, looking up at him. He was straining to see between the people surrounding the child.

  “I think so,” he said. “She’s blue, though.”

  She sat up and saw them working on her child, then suddenly a little fist punched up at the air, and the baby began to cry. Barry started to laugh, and Tory joined in, so overwhelmed with love that she couldn’t believe there had ever been any question that this baby would be wanted.

  He let go of her hand and went to the table where his little daughter lay. Tory saw the awe on his face as he beheld the child. She heard the team discussing the baby’s color, her sluggishness, her respiratory effort, her heart rate. As they worked on the baby, she realized that she had problems. She wasn’t home free just yet. The doctors around Tory got between the child and her as they finished her sutures. Frustration climbed in her heart.

  Barry came back to her side and bent over her. “Her heart rate is good,” he said, taking her hand. “But she’s having a hard time breathing, so they’re giving her oxygen.” He wiped the tear rolling down her temple.

  The doctor moved, and she saw them putting the C-pap on the baby’s tiny face. Quickly, they laid her in an incubator, while one of the nurses took her vital signs.

  “Why are you putting her in there?” Tory asked. “Can’t I hold her first?”

  “No,” the doctor said. “We need to get her under the radiant warmer. The box is a portable transport isolette. It’s made of Plexiglas and has the warmer in it.”

  She watched as one of the nurses stuck an IV in the baby’s umbilical cord while another held the bag. They closed the cover of the incubator. One nurse had her hands in the holes on the side and was listening to her heart rate as they wheeled the isolette out.

  “Where are they taking her?”

  “ICU,” a nurse told her.

  “But is she gonna be all right?” Barry asked. “Is this just routine, or is she in trouble?”

  “It’s not routine,” the doctor said. “She’s got some problems. Her lungs aren’t quite developed. We’ll have to evaluate her more before we know what else she needs.”

  Hours passed before they were allowed to see their baby, and Tory began to wonder if she would die before she had even gotten the chance to look into her face. When they finally brought Tory a wheelchair to take Barry and her to see the baby, they were both overcome with emotion. She weighed only three pounds, and lay limply on her back. A nurse explained the EKG leads were stuck to her chest, monitoring her heart. A saturation probe was attached to her foot, monitoring the oxygen concentration in her blood. The little two-prong Hudson C-Pap assisted with her breathing. A feeding tube threaded into her throat, keeping gas out. The sounds of bubbling and humming surrounded the isolette.

  But through the machinery, Tory looked down at the baby she had expected to be ugly. Her ears were a little smaller than normal, a little lower, but she was the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. She reached through the hole and touched her daughter’s little face.

  An alarm bonged, startling Tory and Barry. The nurse began to adjust the machinery. “Too much stimulation causes an increase in her oxygen levels,” she said. “It’s best not to touch her until she’s more stable.”

  Tory wept as they pulled her away to make room for the other nurses. She looked up at Barry and saw that he was weeping, too. He bent over and held her close. “She’s so little,” he cried. “How will she survive?”

  Tory didn’t know the answer, but she gave the problem to God, even as her heart broke over her child. But God knew about suffering children. He understood about a parent’s grief. Back in the room, they prayed together some more, knowing that only God could help their little girl now.

  When Barry was able, he went into the waiting room to tell Brenda and Cathy about his daughter. He let them go in to be with Tory for a while.

  “I need to call David and tell him,” Brenda said quietly. “He was really worried about that baby.”

  Barry stopped her. “I’ll call him.”

  Brenda shot him a look, wondering if he meant it. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. Go on in.”

  When they were in the room, Barry went to a pay phone and dialed the number. David answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “David, it’s me, Barry.”

  “Barry, how are things going?”

  “We’re not sure,” he said. “The baby’s here. She’s got some problems from coming so early. She’s hooked up to every kind of gadget you can imagine.”

  “Like Joseph was.”

  “Yeah. Like Joseph.” His voice broke off. “I thought I knew how you felt then, man. But I didn’t have a clue.”

  “Is she…gonna make it? Are they giving any hope?”

  “We’re counting on it,” he said. “She’s beautiful, David. Down’s Syndrome and all.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Barry swallowed and forced himself to go on. “Hey, David, I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For shooting straight with me a few months ago,” Barry said. “For being a friend.”

  Again, silence. “I’m a little surprised to hear you say that,” he said finally. “In fact, I was surprised you called. I didn’t think you and I would ever have a pleasant conversation again.”

  “Well, it just so happens that you were right that night. I should have told you months ago. You know, the message you gave me was the message of grace. It was a uniquely Christian message.” He looked down at the buttons on the phone. “I know you still don’t believe in Christ, and when you have examples of Christians like me running around, well, I can’t say that I blame you. But I thought you should know that you’ve already got the basic concepts down. At this point, conversion would be a piece of cake.”

  David laughed softly. “Well, it’s not like I don’t have the background, but you know how it is. Faith is a hard thing for some people to grasp.”

  “I know it is,” he said, “just like my faith that this baby was going to bring any good into our lives. But she made me a believer.”

  “Good for
you,” David said.

  Later that day, Barry went home and got Brittany and Spencer, and took them to the hospital to see the baby. He found Tory in ICU next to the isolette, trying not to do anything that would set off an alarm.

  Barry saw the look of awe in Brittany’s and Spencer’s faces, and wondered how he ever could have believed this baby had no value. Already he could see the impact on her older sister and brother.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Tory asked the children.

  “She looks like a doll,” Brittany said. “Can she move with all that stuff on her?”

  “She moves her hands and feet,” she said. “She can’t cry with the feeding tube and oxygen, though.”

  “Can we get her some clothes?” Spencer asked.

  “As soon as it’s okay for her to wear them,” Barry said.

  “I can’t wait to hold her,” Brittany whispered with wonder.

  Barry’s eyes seemed to continually fill with mist these days, and he sat down and pulled Spencer onto his lap and Brittany against his side.

  “This baby is very special,” he told them. “She’s not like other babies.”

  “Why not?” Spencer asked.

  “She’s just a little more delicate,” Barry said. “She’s going to need a lot of extra care and a lot of extra attention. She may not be quite as smart as you, or quite as big, or quite as healthy, but we’re going to love her just like she is, and we’re going to help her every day of her life.”

  “Is she gonna be like Uncle Nathan?” Brittany asked.

  Barry was quiet for a moment. “Not quite like Uncle Nathan. She may be able to walk, and laugh and smile and talk. She just won’t be able to do it as well as we do.”

  The children stared down at the baby as if trying to imagine what she might be like when she grew older. Then came the question.

  “Why?” Spencer asked. “Why is she that way? Why did God send us a baby like that?”

  Tory’s eyes filled with tears, and she touched the baby’s tiny hand. She swallowed the tears gathering in her throat. “God let us have a baby like this because he trusted us,” she whispered. “He knew we were a family that could take care of her.”

  That made sense to Spencer, and he smiled and puffed out his little chest. “I can take care of her,” he said. “I’m her big brother. Don’t worry, Mommy. We won’t let anything happen to her.”

  Brittany’s ponytail bobbed as she nodded agreement. “That’s right, Mommy. She’ll be fine with us.”

  And Barry knew that it was true, that those words had come from the mouth of God, because their family was still intact. They were going to be all right.

  CHAPTER Seventy-One

  Their home had never felt so empty as it did the day they brought Tory home without the baby. Barry had set the bassinet up in the corner of the master bedroom. Already he had begun getting estimates to add a new room onto their house. By the time the baby was old enough to have her own room, it would be ready. But right now, the family seemed to have a hole in it, because one of them wasn’t home.

  That night as they went to bed, he lay awake looking at the bassinet in the corner of the bedroom. “It feels strange without her,” he whispered.

  “Funny how a little tiny thing like that can wriggle her way into the family.” Tory looked up at him with sad eyes. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”

  “She has to,” Barry said. “She just has to.”

  He held Tory until she fell asleep. As she slept in his arms, he cried into the pillow and prayed again that God would forgive the choice he almost made. More than anything in his life, he wanted the baby to live.

  They named the baby Hannah, after Tory’s mother, and with each passing day, she grew strong enough to be weaned from another machine. The first time she held her, Tory’s heart almost burst with the fierce love that overwhelmed her. Barry was so emotional that, when she handed Hannah to him, he almost fell apart. She didn’t know if he would ever forgive himself for wanting to abort the baby.

  When they finally brought her home after twelve weeks, it seemed as if the family was finally complete again. The neighbors of Cedar Circle set up a huge banner that said, “Welcome Home, Hannah!” That night, the children were happier than they’d been in weeks as Barry read them a story and put them to bed.

  Then he went back to the bedroom where Tory had been feeding the baby. Hannah was asleep as Tory rocked back and forth, back and forth, the circles under her eyes dark from the hours she had been keeping.

  He bent down and took the baby from her. “You need to get some sleep,” he said. “Here, I’ll take over for a while.”

  “You can lay her down,” Tory said. “She’ll sleep.”

  “No, I want to hold her,” he said. “Go ahead. Get in bed.”

  She surrendered the baby and the rocker and climbed into bed, turned on her side, and watched her husband rock their new child. Her eyelids were heavy, and a sense of peace greater than she had ever known flooded through her. She had just about dozed off when she heard Barry singing.

  “And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own…”

  She smiled as she remembered the story he had finally shared with her about the woman whose life Nathan had saved. Then, in a soft, soothing voice, he whispered to the baby, “You need to know about your Uncle Nathan and the lady who knows the Lord because of him.”

  And as the baby’s eyes drifted closed, Barry softly began to tell her about his own brother who sat in his wheelchair, whistling tunes and touching lives without even knowing it.

  “Some people think Nathan has a cursed life,” Barry whispered to the baby, “but it just depends on whose eyes you’re looking from, God’s or man’s.”

  He looked up at Tory, and saw her smiling at him from the bed. “You were right, you know.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “About the crisis being the miracle.”

  She looked down at the baby, knowing it was true. As imperfect as this baby was, she was perfect for their family, for this time in their lives.

  As Tory drifted off to sleep to the tune of “In the Garden,” she had the sweet, spiritual sense that they had, indeed, gotten the miracle they had prayed for.

  ENJOY THIS EXCEPRT FROM BOOK THREE

  Times and Seasons

  Cathy Flaherty kicked her pumps into the corner of the kitchen and wondered why she’d gone to the trouble of getting her hair done this morning. Her blonde strands were already wisping out of the French twist, and the guests hadn’t even arrived yet. She should have come in her jeans and lab coat, the veterinarian’s garb she wore every day. She would have been more comfortable with her hair in a ponytail and sneakers on her feet.

  But that would have disappointed the friends who were throwing this shower. Brenda Dodd and Tory Sullivan, her neighbors on Cedar Circle, had been working on this for weeks. And if that weren’t enough, Sylvia Bryan had left her mission work in Nicaragua to come back and host it. It was as if Sylvia had to see it to believe it, Cathy mused.

  “Hold still and I’ll fix your hair,” Brenda said, coming at her with a comb.

  “I’m not used to having my hair up,” Cathy said. “Shoulda known not to go fu-fu.”

  Brenda moved a bobby pin, catching some of the escaped wisps. “Tory, does that look okay?”

  Tory turned back to them with her fifteen-month-old daughter, Hannah, asleep in her arms. Her body rocked from side to side, as if she swayed to some imaginary beat that only a mother could hear. “Looks good,” Tory said in a voice just above a whisper. “I think I’ll run home and put her down. Barry can watch her if she’s napping.”

  “When your hands are free, you can help me put out these flowers,” Sylvia said. She had several vases of fresh flowers, probably cut from her garden. Cathy had trouble growing weeds, yet Sylvia still had beautiful blooming jasmine, impatiens, petunias, periwinkles, and a dozen other floral varieties around her house, when she didn’t even l
ive here to care for them. But Cathy knew Brenda and Tory weeded and watered Sylvia’s yard. In March, Brenda had taken her home-schooled children over to plant new annuals in the front garden. She’d considered it a science project. Cathy’s son Mark, who was home-schooled with Brenda’s four children, had taken great pride in his green thumb. Now, in June, the yard overflowed with blooms, showing evidence of their care.

  The Gonzales family had done a good job of caring for the home while the Bryans were on the mission field. In early May, they had finished Juan’s seminary training and returned to Nicaragua, so the house was empty again. It was clear Sylvia had enjoyed being back in the home in which she’d raised her children and that she loved launching Cathy’s new life with this shower.

  Tory was on her way out the front door when Annie and Rick burst in. “Steve’s in the driveway,” Annie said. “He and Tracy are on their way in.”

  “But Mark is AWOL at the moment,” Rick said.

  “AWOL?” she asked, going to the door and waiting for Steve and Tracy. Tracy was all dressed up, and her hair had been braided with little white flowers. Steve had taken her to get her hair done this morning.

  She switched her thoughts back to Mark. “So where is he?”

  “Went to run an errand.”

  “An errand? In what?”

  “In Ham Carter’s jeep,” Annie said. “He said he’d be back in a few minutes. Right.”

  Steve came up to the porch, dressed like a financier, and grinning like an Oscar winner. Cathy matched that grin and reached up for a kiss. “So we’re gonna go through with it, huh?” he teased.

  “I wouldn’t get too excited,” she said with a wink. “It’s just a shower.” They had postponed the wedding two other times. One was after Mark’s arrest, the other after they’d realized how hard it was to blend parenting styles. This time, they had sealed their plans with work—building an addition onto her house. She let Steve go as Rick grabbed a monstrous handful of peanuts, dropping some onto the floor as he shoved them into his mouth. “Rick, please. They’ll think you haven’t eaten in a week!”