Another Dawn (12 page)

Dr. Welton called a few hours later. “Ms. Graham, I’ve contacted the health department and the CDC. We all agree that we should proceed with this as a confirmed case of measles. The blood will not be back until early next week, but at this point, the likelihood is high enough that we need to proceed accordingly.”

I had known this was likely, but the shock of absolute reality hit. Hard. I focused every bit of my attention—at least the part of my brain that was still functioning—on dealing with what needed to be done next. “All right. What should I be doing now?”

“Keep Dylan at home. Don’t let him leave the property at all. His fever should start to go down by tomorrow, if it hasn’t already, and the rash will begin to fade. After four days of the rash, he won’t be contagious anymore. It started Thursday night, right?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t we say stay in until Tuesday morning, just to be certain?”

“Okay.”

“Were you planning on flying home sometime this week?”

“Not until Saturday.”

“He should be fine to fly by then. Just fine. We’ve got the list of people Dylan might have come in contact with and have made the appropriate notifications. Have you thought of anything else?”

“No.”

“That’s good. We’re also trying to piece it together where this came from. Everyone agrees that it is a bit too much of a coincidence that there is an outbreak on the West Coast—not California maybe, but close enough at about the time Dylan contracted the disease. They’ve sent the blood off for genetic typing to see if there is a connection. In the meantime, you told me that you have not been to Oregon, or anywhere farther north than Ventura, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Patients usually get sick ten to fourteen days after exposure. Can you remember anything at all from a couple of weeks ago that might give us a clue?”

I closed my eyes and tried to remember. “We’re just coming out of the slow season, so the inn where I work hasn’t been at capacity. There haven’t been any children at all, mostly adult getaways. I flew out here a little more than a week ago, so I suppose it could have been someone on the airplane.”

“That could be true, if he developed the disease quickly. I hope that is not the case, because if there was someone contagious on that plane it could make for a much larger outbreak. I’ll be in touch. Remember, you need to keep Dylan at home.”

“Not a problem.”

I hung up the phone and put my head onto my folded arms on the table. This really was happening. I just prayed that Dylan hadn’t been contagious that day in the nursery.

Dylan fell asleep in front of the television with an untouched apple juice beside him. I walked out into the backyard and over to the crab apple tree. I looked at the stones and thought about fresh starts and new beginnings. That’s what this trip had been about for me, I supposed, coming to some sort of peace with my father, and rebuilding my relationship with my sister. Starting over. Now it was too late. A fresh start was no longer possible for me. I’d messed things up too badly.

Jasmine needed me at home, needed help with the inn. Perhaps I would see if I could get my airline tickets moved up to next Wednesday. There was no reason to waste my time here, working on what could not be fixed. Dad would be fine to get along without me in a couple of days—I was sure of that—and my early departure might make this easier on all concerned.

I thought about Jana, and her statement that I always ran when things got hard. At this point, I was pretty certain she would be more than happy to see me run out of here for good. She wasn’t going to want anything to do with me.

“What’d the doctor say?” Mrs. Fellows had come up behind me without my noticing.

I looked at her and shrugged, trying to blink back the moisture that had gathered in my eyes. “Looks like you were right. It’s the measles.”

She nodded. “I thought so. I had measles when I was a kid, but I don’t remember much about it other than my brother and I had them at the same time, and they put us in a dark room, curtains drawn, because the light hurt our eyes.” She was studying my face, no doubt noticing the hint of tears. She walked closer and patted my arm. “We all came through just fine in the end, so don’t you worry overmuch about it.”

“Dylan’s going to be fine; I’m pretty sure of that. Problem is, it’s possible that we infected a whole nursery of babies at church Sunday. None of them were old enough to have been vaccinated yet. Measles is especially dangerous for babies, and my niece is one of them, and if they all get sick, I don’t know what I’ll do.” I dropped onto one of the wrought-iron benches and began to cry. “My sister is furious with me right now, and how can I blame her? Her baby might get sick because of a decision I made. Not one
she
made, one
I
made.” I shook my head and rocked back and forth. “What are the odds? No one ever gets measles in America anymore. Why should I risk having my son injured by the chemicals in those vaccines?”

“There’s more to that story we talked about the other day that might help you answer some of these questions you’re asking.”

“About you and Mom?”

“No, those folks at Gilgal.”

I was not in the mood to hear Bible stories right now. “I probably should get back into the house.”

“It’ll just take a minute.” She came to sit beside me and put her hand on my back.

“What is it, then?” I figured the sooner she started, the sooner she would be done.

“The Israelites made a pact with the people of Gibeon—something they shouldn’t have done—but that part of the story is for another time. Right now what you need to know is that the city of Gibeon was attacked and Israel was obligated to help.”

“I’m not sure how that ties in with a measles epidemic.”

“Well, like I said, they shouldn’t have made the treaty in the first place. At the time they were probably mad at themselves, especially mad at their leaders. They had made a decision, a wrong one, and now lots of people were stuck paying the consequences.”

“So, basically, this story is about how wrong I am for not vaccinating.” I definitely did not want to hear this.

“Didn’t say that. Because there was some downright trickery involved in their decision to make a treaty. So they could also say, ‘This is really not my fault; why should I have to pay the consequences for this?’ Kind of like what you were just saying about not putting chemicals into your child’s body. Those ‘it’s my fault, I blew it’ thoughts fighting with those ‘it’s not my fault, why am I having to deal with this’ kind of arguments can rip you apart. You know what I mean?”

I nodded.

“Thought you might.” She clasped her hands together on her lap. “But you know what? It’s not so important what got them to the situation; it’s important what they were going to do now that they were in it. They chose to go forward and do the right thing, even though it wasn’t necessarily in their best interest.

“So off they went to help this country who was now surrounded. They had to march all night, hour after hour. When they finally arrived the next morning, you can only imagine how exhausted they were, physically and emotionally, and now they saw that the city was situated so that it was going to be an uphill fight.”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure I want to hear the rest of this. I want the hard part to be over. I don’t think I can take the equivalent of an all-night march and an uphill fight in my near future.” Even as I said the words, I supposed they both were likely to happen.

“None of us think we can when we look at a whole big picture like that. I think that’s one of the reasons God just shows us one thing at a time. First the march, then the uphill. But the good news is, once Israel got to Gibeon, they took the enemy by surprise. Still, an uphill battle is never an easy thing, but you can imagine how the all-night march had made it doubly hard. All could have been lost, but God did a couple of incredible things for them.”

“Like what?”

“First of all, He sent a hailstorm. With hailstones so large, they were landing on the enemy troops and killing them. In fact, more men were killed by the hail than by the sword that day. Can you imagine that?”

“If He was able to do that all along—destroy the enemy by hailstones, I mean—take care of the whole situation by himself, why didn’t He just drop the hailstones on the enemy before the all-night march and leave the Israelites safe and at home? And maybe at the same time, He could squash this measles virus before it goes anywhere else. For that matter, why didn’t He squash it before it got to Dylan?”

“Sometimes we’ve got some things we need to learn. You take these lessons with you and apply them to the next uphill battle in your life. The next time things got hard for them, I’m betting they had a lot more confidence that God could handle it than they did before. Don’t you think?”

“I’m sure, but I still think He could have done that while they were in the comfort of their own homes. They would have still remembered.”

“You think so? In my experience, easy answers are often easily forgotten.”

I thought about that and slowly shook my head. Maybe so, but it was all still irrelevant to what was happening here. “I suppose you’re right. I wish God still did things like that. He could make Dylan all better and stop the disease from spreading to anyone else. Especially those little babies from the nursery on Sunday.”

“Honey, He still can. He still can. But don’t forget to ask about healing hearts in the meantime. Maybe those hailstones are needed to squash some hurts from the past, built-up anger, fear and insecurity, things like that. Point is, you’ve got to keep marching, moving in the right direction. You march forward with what little you’ve got left, determined to do what He’s telling you that you need to do, and you pray, pray, pray. Knowing that He can do more than you ever imagine or dream about.”

I doubted God would put much of an ear to my prayers. I was an unwed mother, had attended church sporadically at best for the past five years. I wasn’t the kind of person God would listen to; I was certain of that. I stood up, ready to get away from the pervading sense of guilt and failure. “Thank you, Mrs. Fellows.”
Yeah, thanks for making me feel worse than I already did.

“Not at all, not at all.”

I turned and walked back toward the house. I considered the story of the army and the hailstones, and my hope faded with each thought of it. Everyone knew that God didn’t work like that anymore. I was the only one I could depend on, and I didn’t have the strength or resources needed to fight this battle.

Dylan was sound asleep, his little face and body so red with the rash that I could hardly recognize him. I put my hand to his forehead and thought that he did perhaps feel a little cooler.

Dad was laid back in the recliner, snoring. I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket, walked into my bedroom, and shut the door. Even as I hit number three on my speed dial, I wondered if Steve would answer the phone when he saw my name on caller ID. Actually, that’s not true. I knew he would if he was available. Mad at me or not, he didn’t play games like that.

“Hi, Grace.”

“Hi.” I suddenly couldn’t make myself say more. Mr. Jefferson’s lawn mower roared from across the street, the old clock on my dresser ticked off each second, but I couldn’t form a single sound.

Finally, Steve broke the silence. “So . . . I heard you were back in Tennessee. How are things going with your dad?”

“Not so great, unfortunately.” I took a breath so I wouldn’t choke up. It didn’t help overmuch. “I mean, he’s doing okay, I guess, and we’re getting along . . .”
Deep breath. Get through this.
“ . . . I guess as well as can be expected. The problem is . . . it appears as though Dylan has the measles.”

“Oh, Grace.” He paused for a moment, the way he always did when he was changing lines of thought. “Where’d he pick that up?” The tone of his voice had completely changed. He was focused on me now, ready to at least offer a shoulder in spite of the sea of trouble that churned beneath us. I loved him for that. What I wouldn’t give to have him here right now. Well, there was no reason to continue that line of thought.
Focus on the point.

“No idea. They’re trying to figure it out now. I guess I just thought you’d want to know. The bad news is, he probably exposed several babies, including Hannah.”

He whistled low. “How long until you know for sure whether or not they got it?”

“Three or four days. I don’t know what I’ll do if there’s an outbreak. It will be my fault.”

“I’m sorry, Grace. I know that’s got to be so hard for you. I’m glad Jana and you are so close. That will make things easier, right?”

That’s when I realized just how far the last week had separated us. He didn’t know about Jana’s phone call, any of it. The only reason he even knew I was in Tennessee was because of the message I’d left him earlier this week. He didn’t know that what little rapport I’d managed to rebuild with my sister had been smashed to bits already, that it was time to cut my losses and retreat. Back to . . . nothing. Still, I had no right to dump all that on him, so I simply said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Good. Hey, I got your message earlier this week. I talked to Darin—he was supposed to contact both Jasmine and her real estate agent. He had planned to wait until we knew for sure, but I told him to go ahead and make the calls.”

“Knew for sure?”

“The group hasn’t met officially yet. I’m still holding out hope the deal will go through.”

“Really? I thought . . . I mean Martin said . . .”

“It’ll be a tough sell, but it’s not totally out of the question. Still, Darin said he would put them on the alert that there might be a problem.” He paused. “I’ll be in touch. Maybe after you get back we can talk. Hmm?”

There was nothing I wanted more. And nothing I needed less. I couldn’t afford to get tangled up in this emotionally right now. “I’ll probably be pretty busy, but maybe sometime we could talk.”

“Well, good-bye, Grace.”