To Find Her Place

by Susan Anne Mason

  “Jane?”

  “I-I’m here.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She inhaled and forced herself to think rationally. “I have to stay here until Donald returns. But I’ll make some phone calls and see what I can find out.” Jane wavered as the familiar guilt churned inside her. “Will you be all right if I go up to the hospital right from here?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Just let me know if you hear anything more.”

  “I will. I’ll call you when I can.”

  As soon as her mother hung up, Jane went to rummage in her coat pocket for the card Officer Samuels have given her when he’d dropped her off that morning. “Feel free to call anytime,” he’d said.

  She planned to take him up on that offer right now. It took several rings for someone at the precinct to answer. When she asked for the officer, she was told to hold for a minute.

  Her palms grew damp as she waited, and finally Officer Samuels answered.

  “I’m glad I caught you,” she said.

  “I just finished my shift and came back to the station to write up the paperwork. I presume you heard we found the boy.”

  “Yes, that’s why I’m calling. Can you tell me what happened and where he is?” She held her breath and prayed the man would be willing to answer her.

  “I was there when it happened. The boy had climbed high up a tree and wouldn’t come down. Mr. Wilder went up a ladder to help him.” A sigh sounded over the line. “I’m not sure what happened exactly, but the next thing I knew, they were both on the ground.”

  Her stomach lurched. “Were they badly hurt?”

  Silence ticked by for several seconds. “The boy seemed all right, but he started having a seizure right before they took him to the children’s hospital.”

  Oh, poor Martin. He must be so scared. Tears blurred Jane’s vision.

  “Mr. Wilder took the brunt of the fall and was unconscious when they took him off in the ambulance.”

  A deep ache cut into Jane’s heart. Of course Garrett took the brunt of the fall. He’d probably protected Martin with no regard to his own health. “Have you . . . do you know where they took him?” she choked out.

  “Toronto General.” The grim tone of his voice did nothing to calm Jane’s fears. There was a distinct possibility he knew more but couldn’t tell her.

  Lord, please be with Garrett. Surround him with your healing grace.

  “Thank you for your time, Officer. And for your help in finding Martin.”

  Jane fell to her knees and through her tears sent desperate prayers upward for Garrett, trying not to imagine how bad his injuries might be. When she recovered enough to speak again, she called the farm. Maybe someone would be able to give her more information.

  Cassie answered, obviously in a state of tearful anxiety herself. She told Jane she didn’t know the extent of Garrett’s injuries, but that her parents were with him, and she gave Jane the number of the nurses’ station at the hospital.

  Jane called there next. All they could tell her was that Garrett was still undergoing X-rays. When Jane hung up, she wiped her eyes, unable to stem the flow of tears. She tried to focus on the fact that at least Garrett was alive. That was the most important thing.

  Yet she was torn between wanting to see Martin and needing to know how Garrett was doing. Thankfully, the hospitals were located across the street from each other. She’d pay a quick visit to Martin first, then head over to see Garrett.

  The moment Donald walked through the door, Jane jumped up and went to greet him.

  “They found Martin,” she blurted out. “He’s in the hospital.” She held back adding anything about Garrett, since it didn’t feel appropriate.

  Donald let out a sigh, a look of resignation coming over his face. “You want to go and make sure he’s all right.”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at her and nodded. “I understand. Thank you for staying with Patrick. I know it must have been hard with you so worried about Martin.”

  But it wasn’t Martin she was most concerned about.

  “You’re welcome.” She walked to the door as she spoke and grabbed her coat. “I should get going to make the next bus.”

  “Call me later and let me know how he is.”

  “All right. I’ll be in touch. Good night, Donald.”

  Jane practically ran to the bus stop, relieved when the bus showed up moments later. After one transfer, she got off near the children’s hospital. Would Martin still be here? She prayed he would be, because if he’d been returned to his foster parents, she didn’t know when she’d get the chance to see him. It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to check in on him at the Blackwoods’ home since she no longer worked for the Children’s Aid.

  She inquired about Martin at the main desk, and they told her that he was still there. An attendant directed her to the proper floor. She found Martin in a long, narrow ward filled with beds. Perspiration dampened her blouse as she approached him. He lay curled in a fetal position under the white sheet, his disheveled hair in a tangle.

  “Martin, honey? Are you awake?” she asked softly as she perched on the edge of the bed.

  His eyes flew open, and he gave a strangled cry, then flew into her arms, his sobs coming in great gasps.

  “Shh. Everything is all right now.” She rubbed a soothing hand over his back and tried valiantly to keep her own tears at bay. This poor child had been through more in his young life than any adult should have to endure. “Are you hurt anywhere?” She suddenly worried that in addition to the seizure, he could have other unknown injuries.

  “N-no.” He sniffed and moved away from her shoulder. “But Mr. Wilder is hurt bad. Do you think he’s . . . dead?”

  An icy fist gripped her heart.

  “He’s not dead,” she said firmly. “But he was hurt, and they took him to another hospital.” She gently pushed the bangs off his forehead. A raw-looking scrape ran across his forehead, likely from the tree branches. “I’m going over now to see how he’s doing.”

  He sat back, and she propped a pillow behind him.

  “Martin, I want to ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

  He eyed her warily but nodded.

  “Did Mr. or Mrs. Blackwood mistreat you?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Mr. Blackwood yelled sometimes. But Mrs. Blackwood was nice.”

  “So, why did you run away?” She reached for one of his hands, still stained with dirt under the nails.

  “It didn’t feel like home.” Tears welled again in his eyes. “Not like the farm. Or like your house. And I missed Blackie. I couldn’t sleep without him.”

  Jane’s throat thickened as she scanned the room. “Have the Blackwoods come to see you yet?”

  He nodded again. “But I think they’re mad at me for running away.”

  “Well, they were worried. You gave them a real scare.”

  “Yes, you did.” Debra Blackwood came into the room. Dark circles hugged her eyes and lines bracketed her mouth. “Hello, Mrs. Linder. I understand you were out looking for Martin last night too.”

  “I was. But with the weather, we didn’t have much luck.” She attempted a smile. “Thank goodness he’s safe. Did the doctor speak with you and your husband?”

  “Yes. Except for a few scrapes and bruises, Martin’s going to be fine. But they’re keeping him overnight to be safe.”

  The woman remained standing at the foot of the bed, not showing Martin any affection or even attempting to comfort him. The somber expression on her face sent off tiny alarm bells in Jane. “I have to go and find out how Mr. Wilder is. Are you going to stay with Martin?”

  “Yes. My husband and I will take turns sitting with him. Please give Mr. Wilder our best.”

  “I will.” Jane bent to give Martin a quick hug. “I’ll come back and see you tomorrow, honey. Get some rest now.”

  With effort, she dragged herself away from his stricken face. As much as she want
ed to stay with him, her heart was urging her to get to Garrett. Not until she saw him for herself would the terrible fear inside her ease.

  Mrs. Blackwood followed her out into the hall. “Mrs. Linder? Before you go, I’d like to talk to you about Martin.”

  From the woman’s demeanor, Jane could already surmise what she wanted to say. A ball of raw anger swirled in her chest. She wanted to rail at all the people who’d let this boy down, but for Martin’s sake, she forced back her outrage. “You likely haven’t heard,” she said coolly, “but I’m no longer with the Children’s Aid Society. You’ll have to speak with his new caseworker. Good night, Mrs. Blackwood.”

  She gripped her purse and walked briskly down the hall, a fierce determination rising up inside her. Once she made sure Garrett was all right, Jane intended to do whatever was necessary to become Martin’s guardian. Now more than ever, she believed that God meant for her to be this boy’s forever family. Since she was no longer the directress, there would be no conflict of interest. She had to believe that the Lord would make it possible for them to be together.

  But first, she had to get to Garrett.

  39

  With her heart racing, Jane rushed into the emergency department of the Toronto General Hospital, dismayed to find the waiting room overflowing with all manner of patients. Across the room, a baby wailed. An old woman slumped in a wheelchair, rocking back and forth and moaning. Another man held a blood-soaked bandage around his hand.

  Jane dashed by all of them to the nurses’ station.

  “Excuse me,” she called over the chaos. “Excuse me, I—”

  A nurse looked up and shook her head. “You’re going to have to wait your turn, dear. We’re swamped right now, as you can see.”

  Jane bit back an argument, realizing it wouldn’t get her anywhere. Maybe in all the confusion, she could slip down the corridor and search for Garrett herself. She was gathering the courage to do so, when she noticed Dr. Henshaw emerging from one of the curtained areas.

  “Dr. Henshaw!” She darted toward him before anyone could challenge her.

  He turned and blinked. “Mrs. Linder. You’re not here because of your mother, I hope.”

  “No. Mama’s fine right now.” She paused to catch her breath. “A friend of mine, Garrett Wilder, was brought in earlier today after falling from a tree. I need to find out how he is.”

  The doctor’s brow rose. “I was here when they brought him in.”

  “Were his injuries bad?” She clasped her hands on her purse strap to keep them from shaking.

  His kind eyes radiated sympathy. “I don’t know for certain since I didn’t treat him.” He made a discreet scan of the area and lowered his voice. “I can tell you that you’d likely find his family in the waiting room on the surgical floor. Level five.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.” She squeezed his hand, then took off at a brisk walk toward the elevators, thankful her frequent visits here with Mama had given her a good working knowledge of the hospital’s layout.

  On the way up in the elevator, she prayed silently for Garrett’s well-being. The fact that he was on a surgical floor made Jane’s legs go weak.

  When the doors opened, she followed the signs toward the waiting area, her anxiety mounting with each step. She peeked inside and right away spotted Ben and Sarah sitting across the room.

  Sarah immediately jumped up. “Jane! I’m so glad you’re here.” She came over and wrapped her in a hug.

  Jane clung to her for a moment, then pulled back. “How is he?”

  “He’s in surgery.” Moisture rimmed Sarah’s eyes. “He injured his back in the fall. The X-rays showed the shrapnel had moved to a dangerous location, and they had no choice but to try and remove it.”

  “Is he going to be able to . . . ?” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “They don’t know.” Sarah clasped her arms around her middle. “Only time will tell.”

  “You mean they won’t know right away?”

  Sarah shook her head. “It will depend on how well the spine heals after surgery.” She gave a weak smile. “The good news is that the piece of shrapnel in his chest also got jarred in the fall. It moved far enough away from his heart that the doctors believe it won’t be a threat anymore.”

  The air leaked from Jane’s lungs. Garrett’s life was no longer in danger. Only his ability to walk. “That’s some consolation, at least.”

  “It is indeed.” Sarah sniffed into her handkerchief.

  This time it was Jane who hugged Sarah, a mother in need of comfort. “May I wait with you and Ben?”

  “It could take hours more.” Sarah glanced at the industrial clock on the wall. “It’s already been a long time.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

  Sarah gripped her arm. “Thank you. I know it will mean the world to Garrett. Why don’t we sit down and you can pray with us?”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  Garrett came slowly to consciousness, as though winding his way through a thick fog. He blinked and opened his eyes, but only darkness met his stare. Where was he? He attempted to shift his position, but a bolt of pain shot down his back and through his left hip. He let out a groan. What was wrong?

  “There you are. Back from the land of ether.” A woman chuckled. “Don’t try to move, hon. You’ve had back surgery.”

  The face of a woman in a white cap came into focus. Garrett tried to speak but his tongue felt two sizes too big for his mouth.

  He grunted instead.

  “Ah, your mouth is probably drier than dirt. Let me get you some water.”

  A few seconds later, she pushed a straw between his lips, and he drank thirstily.

  “Not too much, now. You can have more in a few minutes when we see if you keep this down.” She set the cup on the side table. “How is your pain?”

  “Tolerable,” he managed to rasp.

  “That’s good. You let me know if it gets any worse and I’ll see about another shot for you.” She patted his arm. “I’m going to let the doctor know you’re awake. He’ll want to discuss the results of the surgery with you. Back in a jiffy.”

  Garrett laid his head on the pillow, allowing pieces of memories to sift through the haze in his brain. He remembered climbing the ladder to get Martin, and he remembered the fall. But not much afterward.

  Garrett squeezed his eyes shut. Lord, help me get through this and to accept whatever fate you have in store for me.

  His thoughts turned then to Jane. Did she know they’d found Martin? Did she know about his fall? A sinking wave of depression washed over him. So much for meeting with the specialist to determine if there was anything that could be done. The matter had been taken out of his hands in a most disastrous manner.

  Footsteps echoed in the room, and his parents appeared with a doctor right behind them.

  Mom rushed to the side of his bed. “Garrett, honey. You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  “Sore.”

  “That’s to be expected,” the doctor chimed in. “I’m Dr. Littlejohn, your surgeon. I’d like to tell you how the procedure went and how we move forward from here.”

  Garrett gave a curt nod. “Go ahead.”

  “First, I noted from your chart that the piece of shrapnel in your chest has moved to a more benign location and will not require further intervention, which is indeed good news.”

  “Very good,” Mom said with too bright a smile.

  Garrett simply stared. He was more concerned with his back and why the doctor seemed to be stalling.

  Dr. Littlejohn looked up from the clipboard. “Overall, I’d consider the surgery a success. We were able to remove the piece of metal and repair the damaged vertebrae as best we could.”

  “That’s wonderful. Isn’t it, Ben?” Mom turned her watery gaze on his father, as though to gather strength from him.

  “It does sound favorable,” Dad agreed. “Is there more, Doctor?”


  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “We have no way of knowing if the nerve damage caused by the shrapnel invading the spinal column will be permanent.”

  Garrett stopped breathing.

  “That will become apparent,” the surgeon continued, “once the site has fully healed.”

  “And how long will that take?” Dad asked.

  “That’s difficult to determine. It could be as soon as a couple of weeks. Or it could take months.”

  Months! Garrett’s stomach threatened to heave. He pressed his eyes closed and tried to breathe. His thoughts immediately turned to Jane and the words of love they’d both uttered. But was it fair to keep her hanging on, waiting to see if he’d ever walk again? Who knew how long that could take? And in the meantime, she’d lose her chance to marry Donald and be a mother to his son.

  His throat ached. No, Garrett couldn’t be that selfish.

  He had to set her free to live the life she was meant to.

  “Will he have to stay in bed all that time?” his mother inquired.

  “Maybe just for the first week.” He turned to address Garrett directly. “Then we’ll start working with you to exercise the limbs and slowly help you gain strength to the point where we see if you can stand. In the meantime, we’ll provide you with a wheelchair for use in the hospital and at home.”

  Garrett clamped his lips together to hold back the scream building in his chest. A wheelchair. His greatest fear was coming true, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

  After the doctor left, his mother came over and kissed his cheek. “It’s all going to be fine, honey. You’ll see.”

  “You don’t know that, Mom. No one does.” He shut his eyes again. Maybe he could block everything out if he kept them closed.

  “We have to count our blessings, son,” Dad said in a low voice. “At least the other piece is no longer a threat to your life. That’s cause for celebration in my book.”

  Garrett shook his head, his insides knotting. He knew he should be grateful. Yet right now, the possibility of paralysis outweighed everything else. Even though his family wouldn’t see it that way, he dreaded the thought of being a burden to them. All he’d ever wanted to do was ease their load, not add to it.