Chapter 9
Eddy hesitated and then looked over her shoulder to make sure Joe was still there. Then she tottered through the doorway. The stillness was stunning. Karen was bathed in light, but it was not an earthly light. The light was like a warm presence that soothed her. Eddy had felt this sensation before - - at church, but here she was in the room of a dying girl and she felt it - -peace. It was peace.
Carol looked up at her when she entered the room and then motioned for her to come closer. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered.
There was no trace of the battle Karen had waged with cancer - - only tranquility. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow, barely making her chest rise. Her mother gently wiped the smeared make-up from Karen’s face, revealing her pale, translucent skin and the faintest trace of threadlike, blue veins around her temple. Eddy caught herself holding her breath, as she watched the girl with the thick black lashes and long blonde hair. She waited expectantly for her eyes to open and listened for her to speak, but the girl did not move. Eddy felt as if she was intruding on a sacred event, but somehow she couldn’t make herself leave.
“She looks like an angel,” Eddy whispered.
The nurse came into the room. “Carol, your husband just called. He’s leaving the airport and will be here in about thirty minutes. Is there anyone else I can call for you?” she asked.
“Yes, please call Pastor Tom,” Carol said.
Carol, who had been as fragile as a twig earlier that day, now stood like a mighty oak. She motioned for Eddy to join her and Porter at the bedside.
“Karen had wanted to meet you.” Carol looked toward the window and then at Karen. “I regret not having more time to do all the things she wanted,” she said. Carol straightened Karen’s sheet and tucked the edges under her shoulders. “She feels so cold,” she turned on the call light. “Could you bring some more warm blankets?” The voice over the speaker replied that they would bring them right away.
Eddy swallowed hard and found her voice. “Has she been sick long?” she whispered.
“She was diagnosed when she was eight. She had chemotherapy, remission, more chemo, and then a bone marrow transplant, but nothing helped. I had hoped that this day would never come.” She adjusted Karen’s oxygen mask, pulling the elastic green straps up and over Karen’s ears. “We’ve had so many changes in our family these last few years.” The tears flowed freely, but she made no attempt to stop them. “First Aunt Marge died and then my mother, and then my husband and I,” she wrung her hands. “The divorce. Oh I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear about all this, forgive me.”
Eddy struggled through several awkward moments of silence, and then replied, “It was just me and Fred. We never had kids.” She looked at Porter and said, “But, we made the best of things.” She wrung her hands. “Even so, Fred was a happy man. Yes, he could make me laugh.” She smiled as she reminisced.
“On her good days, Karen volunteered at the children’s ward. She loved to make the children laugh. They all loved her,” Carol said.
A code blue was announced overhead and Eddy assumed by all the frantic activity outside Karen’s room that the code was occurring next door. Carol and Porter exchanged a look of relief. Eddy understood their unspoken communication: someone else was caught between this world and the next; it wasn’t Karen’s turn. They had a little more time with her.
A man in a rumpled suit and a five o’clock shadow burst through the door. “Carol, I made it as soon as I could. How is she?” He rushed to the bedside and picked up her hand. “How’s my little girl?” There was no answer. He nodded at Eddy, and then reached for Carol and Porter, holding them close. The three of them wept.
The commotion outside the room was settling down. Eddy overheard someone say, “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Johnson. We did everything we could to save him.” Then she heard a woman sobbing, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps down the hall.
Porter kept his head down, examining his hands and shuffling his feet. She couldn’t explain it, but Eddy felt a strong desire to protect Porter. She couldn’t do anything to help Karen. But if she could take Porter away from all the sadness then maybe she could help him. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind, could I take the boy with me for a little while?” Eddy asked. “Joe and I could take him to get something to eat, and I promised him I’d tell him about Babe Ruth.” Porter’s parents exchanged anxious looks. “I’d take good care of him,” she added. Carol squeezed Porter closer. Then she nodded her head in approval. “Here’s my phone number.” Eddy passed a tattered slip of paper to Carol, and then she reached for Porter’s hand. “Would you like to go get a hamburger?” Eddy asked. Porter nodded his head, as he tiptoed around Karen’s bed. Looking over his shoulder, he checked on his sister one more time before leaving the room.
They greeted the Pastor and his wife as they exited the room, and soon they heard the 23rd Psalm spoken in unison. “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want . . .” Eddy had heard the words before, but this time she considered the fullness of them, as they walked toward the parking lot.
The 1970’s Ford pickup lunged and bucked forward, as Joe started the engine, “Whoa Bessie,” Joe said. She’s a little like Mrs. McGrath here; she can be a bit contrary.”
“Contrary? This heap needs an overhaul,” Eddy said.
“Don’t we all,” Joe said. “Don’t we all,”
A Dove for Eddy Page 9