Detours
Page 25
Around 10:30, Joey fell asleep and Mary and Ellis hastened off to bed. Less than two hours later, he was up and crying. Not just crying—yowling and screeching, nonstop.
“Do you think I should call the doctor now?” Ellis braced for Mary’s response.
“It’s the middle of the night. I don’t think this is an emergency, so no, don’t call the doctor.”
“What should I do?”
“Let’s do what every other parent does. We’ll search the Internet.”
They took turns holding Joey and scanning article after article about premature infants. Nothing they found qualified as good news, and most of it was downright terrifying. They learned that every stimulant in a typical home (lights, noises, smells, textures) is exaggerated for a hypersensitive preemie. Very probably, Joey was in total sensory overload, and his still-underdeveloped nervous system couldn’t cope with the bombardment of incoming information.
“Now what?” Ellis asked in exasperation.
“In the morning, we’ll take everything out of this room except his crib and a comfortable chair. We’ll get the right kind of light bulbs that won’t hurt his eyes and some all-natural fiber rugs to put on the floor. We’re going to check the label on every blanket and piece of clothing, and if it’s not one-hundred-percent cotton, we’re giving it away. By this time tomorrow night, this nursery will be as free of conflicting sensory input as we can make it. And Joey won’t leave this room until we’re sure he’s ready to handle something new.”
They searched on, combing site after site, hoping for at least a glimmer of good news or a reason to be optimistic, but every source they consulted underscored the strong likelihood that, given his extremely premature arrival, Joey would face multiple difficulties. Some even advocated considering the possibility of institutionalizing a severely challenged child.
Mary looked at the baby in her arms and gave voice to the fears that assailed her. “Doctor Jenkins warned us that he might have brain damage because of lack of oxygen due to his lung problems. What if that’s what’s making him cry so much?”
“Let’s not assume the worst possible situation, babe.”
“I’m not assuming anything. You heard what the doctor said, and you’ve read the same things I’ve read tonight. We may as well face it, Ellis. The odds are he won’t be a normal child.” Mary drew a shaky breath. “I know what I’m about to say might make you leave me, but I’ve got to say it.”
Ellis put her finger across Mary’s lips. “There’s nothing you can ever say that will make me leave you. Now, what is it you wanted to say?”
Mary let the tears roll. “He’s my little boy.”
“He’s our little boy.”
“Right, our little boy, and no matter what happens or what anyone might say, I’m never going to put him in an institution. I can’t lock him away someplace and pretend he doesn’t exist.”
“No argument from me, love. His home is here with us. It’s where he’ll always belong.” Ellis took dozing Joey from Mary’s arms and gently kissed his forehead.
Mary smiled through her tears, then opened yet one more Internet site about premature infants. They passed the night in fits and starts. If Joey slept, they slept. When he was awake, one held him while the other pulled up even more disheartening information on the computer.
Shortly before dawn, they came across an article by Emily Perl Kingsley entitled “Welcome to Holland.”
In fewer than a dozen paragraphs, she used an analogy to describe what it felt like to be the parent of a child with a disability. She spoke of anticipating a trip to a long-dreamed of destination, only to find that instead of going there, the plane took you somewhere totally different. It wasn’t an ugly or unpleasant place, just not the location you had in mind and had planned for. She talked of how you might need to learn a new language and how you’d meet people you wouldn’t otherwise have in your life. She also spoke of how hard it was to hear others speak of their wonderful experiences in that place you had imagined yourself going.
But then she said if you’re open to it, you’ll notice all the marvelous opportunities that exist in this surprise locale. You might never get to leave this unexpected new land, and yes, you may always grieve missing out on the original destination, but nonetheless, this new place is, indeed, special and you might as well enjoy the trip.
Ellis handed Joey to Mary and clicked the mouse to close the site. “Tell me what you’re thinking, love.” She cupped her hand around the back of Joey’s head as he rested in Mary’s arms.
“I’m wondering how, more than twenty years ago, that woman knew to write exactly what I needed to read tonight.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” Mary fixed her gaze on Ellis. “I’m going to ask you something, and I’ll only give you this one chance to change your mind, so you’d better think it through before you answer me.” Her voice faltered, but she continued to speak. “Do you want to cancel out, Ellis? Surrender your passport and not take the scary trip that’s probably ahead for Joey—for all of us?”
Ellis didn’t hesitate. “Of course not. We packed swimsuits and flippers, but if it looks like we might need parkas and snowshoes, so what? We’ll make the trip together.”
“You don’t mind that we could be traveling on some poorly-marked roads?”
“Not for a minute. The very best part of my life has been the detours I’ve made with you.”
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
If the first night was bamboo shoots under fingernails, the first week was a combination of sleep deprivation, water boarding, hanging in the stocks, sessions stretched on the rack, and being draped in the pillory. Sleep in anything more than two-hour increments was a rare occurrence in the Moss-VanStantvoordt household for anyone other than Natalie and Sam and Swiffer.
When school recessed for winter holiday break, Natalie went to stay with her aunts and grandmother. For Anna’s part, she had yet to even lay eyes on her new grandson, despite Mary’s repeated invitations for her to come to the house and meet him, now that he was out of the hospital. Everyone was keeping their promise to Anna about not discussing Mary and Ellis’s relationship in her presence, which also meant that Anna was getting precious little information about her late husband’s namesake.
Naomi and Gloria came by daily to check on Joey’s progress. They’d even convinced their husbands to visit their new nephew, but Joey’s endless crying ensured that Adam’s and Barry’s stays were brief. Like Gramma Anna, none of Joey’s cousins had seen him, either. In truth, his own big sister was cutting a wide swath around him, too. Natalie had twice stepped into his nursery and peeked at him while he slept, but she refused to hold him or sit in the same room with him when he was awake.
For the first time in her life, Mary didn’t spend Christmas day with her family. She and Ellis stayed home with Joey. As had been the case every day, he slept fitfully and cried most of the time he was awake.
Late in the day while Mary was in the nursery feeding Joey, Ellis heard a vehicle pull in out front. She opened the door and saw Gloria’s van. To her amazement, Anna, Amber, Ashley, and Natalie climbed out of the passenger doors. Gloria lifted the hatch and everyone grabbed an armload of containers.
“We thought y’all would like some Christmas dinner,” Anna said as she lumbered up the steps. “It won’t be as good as when it first came off the stove, but it’ll hold body and soul together until breakfast.”
“That’s very thoughtful, Mrs. Moss.” Ellis held the door open wide and stepped aside so Anna could enter. “Mary is giving Joey his Christmas dinner right now. She should be out in a few minutes.”
“Naomi stayed with the boys and little Erin. She’ll make sure Barry and Adam get some supper, too.” Anna swept the room with a glance and then took the foodstuffs to the kitchen.
Gloria and the girls trooped into the living room. “How was Joey’s first Christmas?” Gloria asked.
“About like every day, sorry to say.” Ellis accep
ted Gloria’s hug. “Thanks for bringing dinner for us. We’re so tired, neither of us felt much like cooking.”
“It was Mother’s idea,” Gloria said as Anna reentered the room.
“No point letting all this food sit at my house,” Anna said. “It’s Christmas. Families belong together.”
“Girls, take those things out to the kitchen and put them on the counter.” Gloria pointed the way. “And remember what I said about being quiet.”
Natalie and her cousins deposited their bundles as directed. As they returned to the living room, Ellis tugged on Natalie’s hair. “Hey, kiddo. I’ve missed you. Merry Christmas. I didn’t get to talk to you when your mom called you this morning.”
Natalie hesitated, then wrapped her arms around Ellis. “You’re weird, Ellis.”
“You, too, toots.” Ellis tickled Natalie’s ribs before releasing her from the hug.
Mary emerged from the rear of the house. “I thought I heard voices. Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas.”
Anna rushed to accept Mary’s embrace. “It just wasn’t Christmas without you, MaryChris. Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”
“Now, Mom,” Mary said sternly as she stepped back, “you know I only accept birthday wishes on June twenty-fifth.”
“Oh, I… well… it’s just that…”
“I’m teasing, Mom, but today hasn’t felt much like Christmas or my birthday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey. We brought you and Ellis some dinner. Maybe that will help.” Anna took two steps toward the kitchen. “I’ll fix you a plate.”
Amber, Ashley, and Natalie sat in a row on the sofa. Mary smiled warmly at the trio. “Merry Christmas, kids. Who do you think you are, the Three Wise Guys?”
“Mom said we had to be quiet,” Amber said, “because of the baby.”
“Quiet is good, but you don’t have to be statues.” Mary scrunched in beside Natalie. “Don’t I know you from someplace? Oh wait, you live here, don’t you?”
“You’re so weird, Mom.” Natalie strained for aloofness, but it was evident she ached for her mother’s attention.
“You’re weird, too, Nat. And I’ve missed you.” Mary squeezed her daughter hard.
Gloria perched on the arm of the sofa. “Ellis said Joey’s had another rough day.”
“Lots of tears, not much sleep for him or us.” Mary’s voice was laced with exhaustion.
“Maybe he’ll outgrow that soon,” Gloria said.
“Your lips to God’s ears,” Mary replied, then remembering her mother’s presence, added, “Sorry, Mom. No offense.”
“Why would that offend me? From what I hear, you could use some help from God with your son.” Anna stood in the doorway with a heaping plate of food in each hand.
Before Mary could comment, Joey’s keening cry erupted from his room.
“I’ll get him,” Ellis said.
“No, you and MaryChris need to eat,” Anna said. She handed a plate to each of them. “It’s time I met the new Joseph Moss.”
A moment later, Anna came back with Joey in her arms. “He certainly is tiny,” she said as she paused in front of the rocker. “Natalie, you come take him from me so I can get settled in this chair.”
Natalie didn’t budge.
“Gramma needs your help, Nat,” Mary said. “Go on.” She nudged her daughter.
Reluctantly, Natalie inched over to her grandmother. “I’m only going to hold him one minute.”
“That’s all I’ll need you to do.” Anna carefully put the baby in Natalie’s arms. To everyone’s surprise, Joey’s wails subsided.
“Hey, he likes me!” Natalie’s smile beamed around the room.
Mary set her plate on the end table and joined Natalie and Joey. “Of course he does. You’re his big sister.”
Forgetting that she was holding the baby to allow her grandmother to get seated, Natalie scooted into the rocker, baby Joey still in her arms. Amber and Ashley crowded around and peered at the little boy. Gloria moved nearer, too.
“You said he was ugly, Natalie, but he’s not.” Ashley pointed at Joey. “His face is kinda smooshy, and his skin looks funny, but I think he’s cute.”
“He used to be ugly when he was in the hospital,” Natalie said. “He got born too early, and he needs some time to catch up, that’s all.”
Anna leaned in close and studied him intently. “I see a lot of your father in him, MaryChris. I think he’s going to be very handsome.”
Ellis set her untouched plate of food on the table. She stood apart, surveying the group surrounding young, and blessedly quiet, Joey. For several minutes, he was just another newborn, basking in the devotion of his extended family. There were no fears about potential illnesses or daunting problems or special needs. He was a precious gift, loved and welcomed and cared for.
Ellis reflected on the chance encounter of a blocked roadway that had brought her and Mary together. She recalled all of the detours and backtracks they’d had to make over the past two years when life’s events—most notably their son arriving three months early—refused to conform to their plans.
Because of Mary, she’d found a way home to her brother and sister, and by the looks of things, now Ellis had a whole new family, too. Her eyes misted over as her gaze lingered on her precious Mary, who had one hand on Natalie’s shoulder and was tenderly tracing the outline of Joey’s fingertips with the other. Everyone—Anna, Gloria, Natalie and the girls, and Mary herself—was lost in rapt adoration of the newest member of the clan.
Mary looked up at Ellis. “Come over here, Other Mother. You need to be part of this happy family moment.”
Ellis touched Joey lightly on his cheek, then squeezed into the circle beside Anna. As she did so, Anna tucked her arm around Ellis’s waist. Ellis savored the sheer joy of the peace and unity surrounding her and Mary and their children. How ’bout that, she thought. It’s another MaryChris Moss miracle.
Jane and her good friend Joey, the inspiration for Detours.
About the Author
Jane seems to have misunderstood the definition of retirement. In late 2004, she left Federal civil service after more than 30 years with the same agency, but instead of spending her days sipping lemonade in the shade of the North Georgia pines, she’s writing her own books, editing books by other authors, and helping with the administrative tasks at Blue Feather Books, Ltd.
And then there are the cats—lots of cats—and the four dogs that fill her
Jane was born and raised in a farming community in northwestern Minnesota, where she received her elementary education in a one-room country schoolhouse. She holds a Bachelors’ degree from St. Cloud (Minnesota) State University. Ask her politely and she’ll show you her diploma, chiseled on a stone tablet.
In addition to spending time at the computer writing and editing books and taking care of Blue Feather Books business, Jane enjoys tending her gardens, feeding the wildlife on her property, and playing the piano.
Coming soon from Blue Feather Books:
Lesser Prophets, by Kelly Sinclair
We were the despised, the unloved, the fitfully tolerated, the novelty acts, and in some fortunate places, the embraced and even cherished.
In those safe harbors, we celebrated each stage of our growing emancipation even though others of our tribe were faced with hangman’s gallows or less deadly alternatives and dared not show their true faces. We passed as “normal” when possible, and we were penalized when we could not pass. We only had freedom when they said we could be free. That was our world. We knew none other.
But then God, or Fate, or the Omniscient Divine—or merely happenstance—negated all the rules, and our status was forever changed.
This is how the new world be
gan. We were the Lesser Prophets, and this is our story.
Coming Soon, only from
Make sure to check out these other exciting Blue Feather Books titles:
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Mavis Applewater 978-0-9794120-0-4
In the Works
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Diminuendo
Emily Reed 978-0-9822858-0-0
Merker’s Outpost
I. Christie 978-0-9794120-1-1
Whispering Pines
Mavis Applewater 978-0-9794120-6-6
Detours
Jane Vollbrecht 0-9794120-7-3
From Hell to Breakfast
Joan Opyr 0-9794120-7-3
Journeys
Anne Azel 978-0-9794120-9-7
Accidental Rebels
Kelly Sinclair 978-0-9794120-5-9
Playing For First
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www.bluefeatherbooks.com
Praise for Jane’s Previous Novels
Second Verse 978-1-932300-94-9
Jane Vollbrecht is renowned for creating genuine characters whose only super powers are the inner and outer strength of ordinary people as they cope with real life issues. In Second Verse, Vollbrecht asks her readers to examine relationships in life and death situations, questions the wisdom of commitments in sickness and in health, and demonstrates how the strength of love outweighs interference from outside forces… Vollbrecht captures readers with conviction, honesty, and humor in this character-driven plot... The ultimate message of Second Verse is that, in truth, we all might be well advised to hear the music of life that’s playing all around us and then to dance—dance like it’s what we were born to do and like there’s no one watching.