When Snowflakes Never Cease (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  “Does Kara know you’re coming?” Geneva asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. “I meant to call her on the way, but then with the weather and all, I didn’t want to get her hopes up. What if I said I’d come and then didn’t show up? Kara wouldn’t understand, even if my reasons involved weather and impassable roads. Even now, I’ve got to hurry. I’ve been awake for almost thirty-six hours now, but I only stopped because I was so tired and hungry that I wasn’t sure I could drive a straight line.”

  “Do you have room for two hitchhikers?” Geneva asked. “It’s a long story, but we’re stranded without any transportation. I promised Allie I’d be back before Christmas. We have four to five hours left. Between three drivers, we might make it in right before midnight.”

  Jimmy’s eyes teared up, and he nodded. “Thank you. I told the Lord I didn’t think I could make it. Now I find out He had you waiting for me.”

  “And He sent you out to meet us before we even knew we’d need a ride in the middle of nowhere,” Geneva said, her voice tight with emotion.

  The enormity of it felt too big to comprehend. She’d had so little faith. She’d come to the end of her own abilities and thought all hope was lost, never realizing that God had planned to answer their needs in a way better than she could have ever hoped or imagined.

  “We need to leave right now,” Carter said, shoving the last bite of burger in his mouth.

  Geneva took her burger and fries to go, and they crowded into the cab of Jimmy’s old truck. Though the paint peeled and the truck looked as if its better days were long passed, Geneva felt a peace and confidence that God could keep the engine running until they made it home.

  Carter took the first shift driving, allowing Jimmy to lean his head against the doorframe and sleep and Geneva to call in a status report to Sydney. Bow her head in a quick prayer, and finally eat every last morsel of her bacon burger. They didn’t speak much. Snow fell in earnest now, forcing Carter to focus intensely on the road in front of them.

  Geneva focused on the road, too, trying not to think either about what lay behind them or what waited when they reached their destination. If she thought about the miraculous events that had just happened and the intricate way God had orchestrated their rescue with an answered prayer, she feared her emotions would spill over past the point of no return. If she thought about bringing Allie her daddy and simultaneously saying goodbye, the wave of grief still threatened to overwhelm her. Instead, she watched the snowflakes flash brightly in front of the truck’s headlights and tethered her gaze to the blurring center line as if her efforts somehow assisted Carter in keeping the truck firmly adhered to a solid position on the pavement.

  She didn’t even know how to pray. She could only manage two all-encompassing, though completely inadequate words. These she breathed as if from the depths of her soul to heaven with every cell in her body aching in their truth.

  Thank you.

  Geneva’s breath caught at the sight of Allie in the darkened room. She looked so small curled up in the bed, only a shell of the vibrant girl she’d once been. Her pale, fragile skin stretched across angular bones with no soft cushioning in between. Her hair, once so dark and beautiful, was still only a memory after her treatments left her with no crown atop her head. Her closed eyes set deep in shadowed caverns, and her white face almost matched the color of the pillowcase that waved away from her like a defeated flag.

  Geneva breathed evenly and stilled her features to reveal none of the grief and shock that came from seeing someone you love so very near death’s door. Her gaze fell on something white laid across the back of a chair.

  Her white doctor’s jacket.

  Before she left for Kentucky, she’d come here directly after work. Not wanting to wear her “Dr Hutchins” labeled lab coat on the plane, she’d meant to shove it into her already-packed suitcase, but she’d gotten distracted by discussing things with Kara and suspected she’d left it. More than once, she’d longed for that coat and the protection it offered. Now there it lay beckoning her to come put it back on and allow it to shield her behind a wall of professionalism. Handling this as Dr. Hutchins would be much easier than as just Geneva. She could distance herself, cut off her feelings, and simply get the job done.

  But this wasn’t a job. This was Allie. She couldn’t hide anymore. She would willingly feel every last twist of pain because her love for Allie deserved nothing less.

  She fingered the jacket longingly, then deliberately left it where it lay and turned to approach Allie’s bedside. She studied every inch of her face before reaching out to take Allie’s cold hand into hers from where it rested lifelessly on the blanket.

  At the contact, Allie’s eyes blinked slowly open, and her features relaxed into a gentle smile. “You’re here.” The whisper came as a whole-body sigh, heavily-laden with immense relief.

  “Yes, I’m here,” Geneva smiled. “I told you I’d make it back before Christmas, and see, I have just a few minutes to spare.”

  “I wanted you.”

  Geneva swallowed with difficulty. Both the nurse and Kara had told her that Allie had been surprisingly alert and that every time she woke, she asked for Geneva. They thought she was holding on just for her. When they arrived just before midnight, they decided that Geneva should go in first to speak to Allie and not overwhelm her with so many people all at once.

  “I know,” Geneva said, gently rubbing her thumb along Allie’s hand in hers. “I wanted to come sooner, but I couldn’t. I have an amazing story to tell you sometime, and it’s all about miracles and how you are so very loved.”

  Allie blinked slowly as if she didn’t have the energy to manage a full nod.

  Geneva continued. “Do you remember how you told me what things you would like tomorrow? Remember how we prayed? Well, today is finally tomorrow, and God has answered them because He loves you so much.”

  Allie’s forehead twitched, and she appeared to think. “Christmas?” she asked.

  Geneva held up her phone and the large, glowing letters that announced the time as midnight. “Yes, you made it to Christmas.”

  Then she wrapped a blanket around Allie and scooped her up in her arms. Thankfully, Allie was only connected to the minimum to manage her pain while also still allowing her to not be tied to the bed. Kara said one of Allie’s favorite things was for Kara to hold her in a chair that faced the window and look outside.

  Geneva did that now and carried her to the overstuffed rocking chair placed there for just that purpose. Then she pulled up the blinds “Look, Allie. Look outside.”

  Allie lifted her head from Geneva’s shoulder weakly. Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth turned up at the corners. “Snow. My Christmas snow. Lots of snow.”

  “Yes, Allie. You got your Christmas snow,” Geneva whispered, placing a kiss on the little girl’s head.

  The dull, gray world outside now wore a fresh trousseau of white that shone with an almost blinding glow even at night. Large snowflakes still danced to the ground in an impressive frenzy. So much movement, and yet it was all done in silence. The peace and beauty of the scene stole over both of them, and they spent the next few minutes just watching.

  Geneva’s thoughts calmed from the chaos of the last couple weeks, and she realized how something so simple as snow meant such different things to so many people. At this very moment, people around the country were upset and angry that this massive snowstorm had ruined their plans, caused delays, and wreaked havoc on the roads and in their lives. To them, the snow was the villain in the story.

  They had no clue that each one of those snowflakes was the answer to a dying little girl’s prayer. What if they knew? What if they could somehow see the sparkle of joy in Allie’s dull eyes as she watched? Wouldn’t that make all the difference? Wouldn’t they feel a small piece of the true miracle?

  Geneva had to believe that if they just knew, their perspective would change. Suddenly, it wouldn’t be about them, but about someone else. The snow wouldn’t fe
el so inconvenient, but would instead provide an opportunity to physically see the embodiment of God’s love and care in answering a prayer that didn’t seem all that important on the surface. But when your breathing is down to mere hours, seeing each of a million snowflakes and knowing they are all for you makes all the difference.

  What a life-changing idea to realize that the difficulties in your life just might be someone’s answered prayers!

  Geneva heard a slight creak at the door and knew what it meant.

  “Allie, do you remember the other part of your prayer for tomorrow?” she asked. “You wanted Christmas, snow, and one other thing.”

  Geneva turned slightly so that Allie’s gaze landed on the door instead of the window. She watched as the spark in the little girl’s eyes dulled.

  Softly, Allie answered, “I wanted my… Daddy?”

  Jimmy stood at the door with a large, white, plush cat in his arms and his eyes locked with his little girl.

  Big Kitty landed on the bed as he rushed forward and took Allie into his arms.

  “Daddy, Daddy, you’re here. You came back!” Allie’s breathy words didn’t echo above a whisper, but Geneva absorbed every single one.

  “I’m here, baby. I’m here,” Jimmy choked out. “I love you, and I’m so very sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

  “You’re here,” Allie’s soft words put an end to Jimmy’s apologizing as if she’d given a full monologue urging him to forget the past because the important thing was that he was here now.

  “You won me a big kitty?” Allie asked, joy threading her soft words as her gaze fell on the bed.

  “Yes, he did,” Geneva answered firmly.

  Her gaze met Jimmy’s briefly, and she read the great appreciation in their depths. She’d let him be his daughter’s hero one more time.

  Jimmy took Allie back to her bed and tucked her in. Then he retrieved the plush monster that was almost as big as her.

  Allie wrapped her arms weakly around the beast and buried her face in its soft fur. No words were necessary to express the emotion of the moment.

  Kara appeared at the other side of the bed.

  “Mommy, look.”

  Allie’s energy was obviously fading fast, but Kara seemed to understand that Allie’s admonition encompassed everything—Christmas, the snow, her daddy, and even Big Kitty.

  “I know, sweetheart. God answered all of your prayers.” Then she leaned close and softly stroked Allie’s cheek. “I don’t want you to go, but I can see how very much God loves you. I didn’t think anyone could love you as much as I do. It’s amazing to know that God’s love is even more than that and that he will take care of you and me even if we aren’t together.”

  Allie’s eyelids started to droop. “Sing,” she mouthed, though no sound actually came out.

  Kara immediately started singing a soothing but upbeat rendition of “Let it Snow.” Geneva knew this wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Even when Allie was going through treatment, she would request Kara sing her to sleep, and her usual requests were Christmas songs, even in summer. Geneva didn’t think she would ever forget Kara belting out “Up on the Housetop” in mid-August. Kara didn’t have the best voice, but she sang with all her heart. Before she reached the chorus, Jimmy joined her with his own strong baritone, and Geneva remembered Allie’s request to hear her daddy sing to her one more time.

  Tears pooled in her eyes as she watched the mother and father leaning over their daughter’s deathbed and singing her to sleep. When the scene hurt too badly, she looked away and saw Carter standing in the doorway. Her eyes met his knowing gaze briefly, and she couldn’t handle that either. Instead, she turned and walked back to the window to watch the snowflakes and once again allow them to soothe her soul.

  Lord, do you have time for one more miracle? I still don’t want to lose Allie. I’ve lost patients before, but this time, I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough!

  Then, as if the answer whispered through the cold window, her mind latched on a few words that steadied her heart with peace.

  But I am.

  Geneva watched the shallow rise and fall of Allie’s little chest, and she knew her time was short. Allie hadn’t woken again since seeing her dad, and subtle changes over the past few hours indicated a sharp downward turn. Geneva worried that all the excitement had been too much for her, but the hospice nurse disagreed. She said that Allie had already hung on longer than her experience indicated she should.

  Basically, Allie had been fighting for her tomorrow. She’d wanted to see Geneva and waited long enough for the dawn of Christmas and the answers to her prayer. Now, it was as if she had permission to rest, and it wouldn’t be long now.

  All of the others were thoroughly exhausted. Geneva had sent them away a couple hours ago, promising to call when it was time. Geneva knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Instead, she contented herself with counting Allie’s breaths, thankful for each individual moment where her chest rose and fell, knowing it could be the last.

  As she waited, her gaze fell on a familiar stack of envelopes on the nightstand beside Allie’s bed. Geneva reached out and took one of the letters, noting that each one of them had been opened, and their crinkled pages made them appear to have been read multiple times. A soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth as Geneva read the name at the bottom of the letter.

  Grandma Arlene.

  Arlene’s letters had made it to Allie, and Allie knew she was loved.

  Geneva thoughtfully fingered the letter, marveling how something good came out of their seemingly pointless trip to Kentucky. At the time, that leg of the journey had felt so disappointing. They hadn’t located Jimmy or even a solid lead on where he’d gone. Yet if they hadn’t trudged through that difficulty, then those letters wouldn’t now sit on Allie’s nightstand. Thoughtfully, Geneva put the letter back with the others and noticed another paper sitting beside them.

  It featured a drawing with a large heart and several snowmen drawn with crayons. Inside the heart was the word “Grandma.” The picture was obviously unfinished. The snowmen were in various stages of completion, some of them lacking hats or even heads. Geneva guessed that Allie had started the project and maybe worked on it in several stages, but she lacked the energy to finish. Geneva breathed deeply, trying to control the wave of grief as she realized Allie’s drawing would remain forever unfinished. Even in its current condition, Geneva hoped that Kara would still send it to Arlene. That heart and accompanying half-snowmen would mean the world to a lonely great-grandma.

  Geneva returned to watching and counting the rise and fall of Allie’s chest. When the space between Allie’s breaths lengthened out, Geneva picked up her phone with a shaking hand and made a call that rang to a phone a few rooms over.

  “Kara, it’s time,” she said softly.

  Quickly, Kara and Jimmy arrived. Carter took position watching a few feet away. Geneva released Allie’s hand and moved to let one of her parents take her place. But Allie surprisingly stirred. Her eyes struggled to blink open, and her fingers twitched.

  “Dr. Gen,” her lips formed the words.

  Geneva understood that Allie was reaching for her, even if she no longer could make her muscles obey. Kara sat on the bed behind Allie. She pushed Big Kitty more to the other side of the mattress and pulled Allie into her arms while Jimmy held her hand on the other side.

  However, Geneva was the only one Allie focused on.

  Geneva remembered her promise to Allie from months ago. Clasping her hand tightly once again, she looked into her gray eyes and spoke honestly. “Sweet Allie, do you remember when I promised to tell you when heaven was close?” Geneva kissed her little hand. “I think now is that time, and God wants you to be with Him.”

  A tilt of her head resembled a nod. She already knew.

  “Does it hurt to die?” Allie’s breathy whisper barely carried any sound, and yet it seemed to reverberate in the silent room.

  Geneva swallowed, suddenly understanding
that this was part of the reason Allie had wanted her to come so badly. It wasn’t a question Allie couldn’t ask her mom. Geneva was her doctor and her friend. Allie knew Geneva would have the knowledge and love to tell her an accurate answer truthfully. Though Allie knew where she was going, the getting there part is what scared her.

  Geneva took a deep breath and drew on a strength that was more than herself. Then she answered seriously. “No, Allie, I’ve seen people die, and I don’t think it hurts at all. Do you feel my hand in yours? When you die, I think it’s just like going to sleep for two breaths. You take one breath here and your next breath in heaven. When you wake up, you find that instead of my hand, Jesus’s hand is the one holding yours. There’s no pain or reason to be scared. There’s nothing in between here and heaven, Allie. It’s just a breath away. And both Jesus and I will hold your hand the whole way.”

  Allie looked at her, seeming comforted, but there was something else she wanted to know. Geneva studied her face, trying to decipher the words she could no longer speak.

  “Do you want to know what heaven is like once you get there?” Geneva asked.

  She saw the confirmation in Allie’s eyes.

  “We don’t really know for sure what heaven is like except that it is beautiful, there’s no more pain, and we get to be with God forever.” Geneva bit her lip, trying to think of a concrete way to explain heaven to a dying eight-year-old. Out of the corner of her eyes, she once again glimpsed the window. Dawn turned the darkness to gray, and the snow still fell. “You know how much you love snow, Allie? I think heaven is like snow. Each one of the snowflakes tonight is an answer to your prayer—a blessing to show you how very much God loves you. Heaven is filled with God’s snowflakes, and the best part is that they never, ever stop.”

  A soft sigh of contentment escaped from Allie’s lips. Her eyes flickered weakly to her mom and dad.

  “We love you, too, Allie. It’s okay,” Kara said, unable to stop her tears from flowing.