Another Dawn (18 page)

He glanced around at the hostile faces turned my direction. “Let’s step out into the hallway, shall we?”

We walked outside the waiting room; then he nodded back toward it. “Sounds like you were taking quite a bit of heat back there.”

Outside of the arena, standing here staring at the strained, pale face of my brother-in-law, all my righteous defense arguments melted. I felt tears roll down my cheek. “I guess I can’t blame them. I’m mad at me, too.” I didn’t really understand the truth in that until the words came out.

My shoulders began to heave with the revelation. Somehow I managed to keep the sobs silent, but the tears gushed down my face. I used the palms of my hands to wipe them away but couldn’t keep up with the torrent. “It’s okay, kiddo.” He put his arm around me and squeezed. “We all know that you acted with the best intentions.” He leaned closer and whispered, “And don’t worry about Kelsey. I just talked to her mother. Her kidneys are fine and she’s been able to drink fluid. They’re probably going to send her home this afternoon.”

“I’m so glad.” A small fraction of the tension eased with his statement, but there was a much heavier burden I carried. It frightened me so much I could hardly bring myself to ask about it. “How is Hannah?” I finally managed to squeak out the words.

“Not so good. Why don’t you go back and see her for a few minutes? That’s why I’m out here. I’ll go get a cup of coffee and give you a little time with your niece and your sister.”

“Okay. Thanks, Rob.”

He squeezed my shoulders once more before he let me go. “Not a problem.” He pointed at the locked door to pediatrics. “Just press the red button, they’ll ask you who you’re here to see, and you tell them Hannah. They’ll buzz you in.”

“Okay.” I started toward the door.

“Grace?”

I turned back toward Rob. “Yes?”

“Your sister . . . she’s not herself. Don’t take anything she might say personally, okay?”

The blinds were shut against the sun, leaving only narrow slits of light coming through. The overhead fixtures were turned off, and it took me a minute to focus clearly on the dark shadow hunched over the crib. I walked toward it. “Hi, Jana. How you holding up?”

She didn’t respond. Didn’t even move, just kept trailing her fingers across her daughter’s face.

“Jana, I—”

“Shh.” Jana didn’t look up. “This is the first time she’s fallen asleep since yesterday afternoon.”

I went to stand on the far side of the crib from my sister, the sting of her words hitting their full mark and then some. By now, my eyes had adjusted and I looked down at sweet Hannah’s face. Her face was pale. Even in this low light I could see that, and her breathing seemed labored. I could hear the sound of the rattling that always seemed to accompany babies when they got a runny nose. This particular runny nose, I knew, came from the measles. From my son. Bottom line, from me. Hannah coughed twice but didn’t wake up.

I looked down at that suffering, sick little baby and my tears dried up in a jolt of adrenaline-fueled fear. That defenseless, sweet baby. So completely vulnerable, so completely dependent on us, and we were all helpless to help her, really. What if what we did for her, what the doctors did for her, wasn’t enough?

Rob was right. I couldn’t take the fact that Jana was angry with me personally. Next week, when this was over and everyone was getting well, clearer heads would prevail. For now, I just needed to keep my mouth shut and wait.

I stood there quietly, listening as Hannah coughed occasionally, but otherwise remained still. Wanting so much to hug my sister, but knowing this was not the time.

A few minutes later a nurse walked into the room. “Mr. Morgan is back.”

I nodded. “Good-bye, Jana. I’ll be praying,” I whispered, then followed the nurse out the door, down the hall, and outside the locked doors of the pediatric ward.

Rob was waiting there. He put one hand on my shoulder and said, “You go on back to the house now, take care of Dylan and your father. I’ll call you if anything changes here. Okay?”

“My flight’s not until early evening. I could wait for a while, stay close by, in case you need something.”

He shook his head. “I know you want to help, but I think the best thing you can do for us right now is to stay out of the way for a while.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t imagine anything hurting more than this. The person I loved most in the world, next to my son, was in great distress, and the way I could best help her was to stay out of her way.

“Grace, hopefully this will all be over soon, and we will all move forward. It’s just going to take a while. Okay?”

“Thanks, Rob.”

He nodded. “Give that boy of yours a big hug for me.”

As I started down the hallway, I could see into the pediatric waiting room, see the very same people who had been there with me only moments before. Only this time, they were standing in a circle holding hands, heads bowed and eyes closed.

Praying.

I looked at my watch. Eleven o’clock. We needed to leave for the airport by two, which gave me time to pick up a few more supplies for Dad. I called him from the parking lot. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way home but thought I’d stop and pick up a few things. Is there anything you need for me to get for you?”

“I called in a refill of my pain meds this morning. Do you mind stopping by the pharmacy and picking it up for me?”

“Sure.” I actually looked forward to this trip. Maybe I’d see what kind of tea Dawn could make that would help relieve a guilty conscience.

I had to park halfway around the town square. I walked past the Square Forty diner, unusually empty as the breakfast crowd had vanished and the incoming lunch crew hadn’t yet arrived. There was a sign in the window, “Taking donations for those affected by the measles outbreak.” This stopped me cold for just a moment.

I walked inside, and sure enough, right there on the counter was a large clear plastic jug. It simply said “Measles” on it. I pulled out a ten-dollar bill, stuck it in, and turned to go.

“Much appreciated. You staying for lunch?” A waitress had appeared behind me.

“No, not this time.”

“Well, thanks for the help. Those poor families. Between the quarantine parents having to miss work and the kids that are in the hospital, this is a real financial hardship on all of them.”

“Glad I could help out.” I practically ran from the restaurant.

I walked into the pharmacy to see that there were a couple of people in line ahead of me. I got behind them, trying my best to be inconspicuous. It had been long enough since I lived here that I hoped there wouldn’t be anyone I knew, anyone who might recognize me.

When I got to the counter, Dawn smiled at me. “Hey there. How’s your son?”

I realized then that although she knew I’d had a sick son, she didn’t know I was
that
mom.

“He’s feeling better,” I said, and let it go at that.

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Have you got a prescription for him?”

“No, I’m here to pick up a refill for my dad. Charles Graham.” I was certain that my sick kid combined with my father’s last name would spell out exactly who I was, but if she put it all together, she gave no sign of it.

“Alrighty, let’s see what we’ve got here.” She turned and began thumbing through a bin of white pharmacy bags. “Here we go. Got it ready. You need anything else?”

“No, I guess that’s all for now.” Another donation can marked “Measles” sat next to a display of mints and gum on the counter.

“Your father has a ten-dollar co-pay.”

“All right.” I pulled a twenty out of my wallet.

She gave me a ten in change and I put it in the bucket, shaking my head. I could never add enough money to absolve my guilt.

I turned to go, and Dawn said, “Hey, if you have a minute, since you’re a tea drinker, I thought I’d run something past you.”

“Really? Some tea?” I looked at my watch. Eleven twenty. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It won’t take long and it might be just what you need.”

I doubted seriously she had anything close to what I needed, but at this point I needed any bit of help I could get, even if it amounted to no more than some dried-up plants. “Okay.” I followed her over to the herbal tea area.

“Have a seat right here, and I’ll whip you something up.” She turned her back to me and began scooping things together.

“This is a blend I read about that’s supposed to give you a calm spirit. I don’t know about that, but it tastes amazing.” She put a cup beneath a hot water faucet. “It’s a green tea base with wild rose petals, Italian bergamot oil, and holy basil.” I heard the whishing sound as the cup filled almost to the top. She dropped the infuser ball into the cup, then set it in front of me before she took the seat beside me.

“There was a time, just a few years ago, when I had made some decisions that seemed right at the time, I was convinced of that. In the end, they cost me everything and everyone I loved. I felt so trapped because I didn’t really have much left in the way of a support group.”

“I could join that club.” I took a sip of the tea. It really was amazing.

“Most people do to some degree or other.” She smiled. “You know what I found out?”

“What?”

“Move forward no matter how hard it is, do what’s right no matter what it costs you, and trust God that somewhere in the process, He’ll give you the chance for a new start. A do-over, if you will. Those past hurts can be repaired; they’ll leave scars, but if you’ll stay the course, if you don’t give up, it can happen.”

A do-over. I felt the urge to ask Dawn if she had some standing stones set up somewhere. What I actually said was, “Thanks.” I kind of choked on the word.

She reached out and squeezed my arm. “I don’t know why, but somehow I just felt like you needed to hear that today.”

“You have no idea.” I drank the last of my tea and tossed the paper cup in the trash. “Thanks, Dawn. This is a winner.”

When I got home, Dad was asleep in his recliner and Dylan was asleep in front of the television. Between Dad’s painkillers and Dylan’s illness, this was an all-too-familiar scene.

I tiptoed out the back door and went to stand by the old crab apple tree. I thought about what Dawn had said, and what Mrs. Fellows had told me about coming full circle. I thought perhaps it was too late for me. I was like the generation sentenced to wandering the wilderness for forty years. Chance over.

“Well, now, here you are again.” Mrs. Fellows walked out toward me, her steps a bit uneven. “Thinking about starting over, I’m guessing.”

I shrugged. “Wishing it wasn’t too late for that, I suppose.” I looked at her, then had to look away. “I changed our flight home. We’ll be leaving in just a few hours. I thought it best for all concerned.”

“I see.” She pulled off her glasses and wiped them on the hem of her shirt, then put them back on her nose.

She wanted to say something. I could see it in her eyes. She’d been as kind as the people at the hospital were cruel, so finally I just said, “You have another story for me?”

She smiled. “Grace, after your mama got sick, seems to me you lost faith in everyone but yourself. That year, I know it was your last year of high school when most girls are dreaming of proms and college, you were busy caring for your mother and your house, and at some point the happy-go-lucky, over-the-top, carefree girl we all knew and loved just disappeared. You refused to rely on anyone. Not your father. Not anyone who tried to help you. And I’m guessing by what’s going on right now, you don’t trust the medical establishment at all.”

“I’m not alone on that last one.”

“I’m not saying you made the wrong decision. Fact is, I’ve never read up on it one way or the other, or spent any time praying about it. What I’m saying is, just like the Israelites, you’ve got to learn that you can’t trust common sense, or even what you think you know to be true. God’s the only one you can depend on. Not yourself. Not what seems obvious to us. Remember I told you that the Gibeonites had tricked the Israelites into signing the treaty?”

“Yes.”

“Well, now I’m going to tell you exactly how that happened.” She smoothed her tan pants and pinched the crease between her fingers as she talked. “The Israelites were told not to make a treaty with anyone in the land. So when a delegation came to visit them, with clothes tattered and torn, and moldy bread their only remaining food after such a long journey, they were obviously from far away. In fact, the Israelite men even sampled the provisions—the bread was indeed moldy. So they agreed to a treaty, swearing their allegiance, without bothering to stop and ask God about whether or not they should do it. You know what the problem was?”

“What?”

She quit playing with the crease in her pants and looked directly at me. “That delegation wasn’t telling the truth. They were actually from nearby.”

“Wouldn’t the fact that they lied nullify their deal?”

“In an American court, perhaps, but under God’s law and after His name had been invoked in the promise . . . these people were stuck.”

“So you’re saying all that trouble—the all-night march and everything—could have been avoided if the people had just asked God before they made the decision in the first place?”

“Yep. Sometimes what looks like common sense isn’t what God wants for us.”

“When Mama was sick I prayed all the time that He would heal her, and He never even came close. Never even a slight improvement.”

“I didn’t say He always gives you what you want. I imagine you don’t always give your son everything he wants, either, even though at times what he wants is not a bad thing, it’s just not the right thing.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me.”

“The reason Gilgal was necessary, the reason the people needed to start over, was because they didn’t trust God in the first place. They saw the
giants
who were living in the land and thought there was no way they could take them. They were right about that, but God was and is big enough. They didn’t ask Him. They made a decision based on their own common sense. Maybe that’s what you’re doing right now, huh? Looking at the giant size of the situation and thinking there’s no way to deal with it.”

“But life is so hard.”

“And it always will be this side of heaven. What I’m saying is, He’s the One, the only One, you can rely on. Not yourself. Not whether you stay here now or get on back. Not any lifestyle you might choose, no matter how healthy you may believe it is. If you don’t learn to trust the One who created it all, then nothing else really matters. You give that some thought.” She stood and shuffled back toward her house.