Another Dawn (19 page)

I loaded Dylan’s duffel on top of my suitcase, then closed the trunk. I walked around the car and opened the back passenger’s-side door. “Okay, Dylan, it’s time to go.”

“Grandpa, I don’t want to leave. Tell Mama we need to stay. Tell her, Grandpa. We never even got to show her—”

“Your mama needs to get back to her job, little man. That’s just the way the world works. Don’t you worry, though. You can come back and visit me anytime. There will be plenty of time in the future for the rest of our project.”

Dylan wrapped his arm around Dad’s leg, and Dad bent down to return the gesture. When he straightened up, there were tears in his eyes. “You be a good boy, now, you hear me?”

“Okay.” Dylan wiped tears from his eyes as he climbed into the car. “Good-bye, Grandpa, I love you.”

“Love you, too, buddy.”

Nothing could have prepared me for the shock of those words—coming from my father—directed toward my son.

I spent an extra moment double-checking Dylan’s car seat before I stood up to face my father. He was blinking fast, as if something was in his eyes, and the two of us simply looked at each other. The wind stirred my hair across my face—the same black stick-straight hair I’d inherited from my dad, at least until his turned gray. One of the few things we had in common. “Well . . . good-bye, Dad.” I held out my right hand and he shook it.

“Good-bye. Thanks for being a good nurse.”

“You’re welcome.”

I walked around to the driver’s side of the car. As I opened the car door, this exit suddenly felt so final. I wondered if I would ever be back here.

“Gracie?” my father asked, just as I was about to climb inside.

“Yeah?”

“Take care of that boy for me. He’s a fine young man. Keep up the good work.”

“Um . . . thanks.” I sat down in the car and backed out of the driveway as soon as I could get the car started and in gear.

Halfway down the first block, Dylan said, “Mama, why are you crying?”

I couldn’t explain to him what I didn’t really know myself. I finally managed to say, “I guess I’m not very good at good-byes.”

The Nashville airport had four lines of self check-in machines. All four lines were backed up with what appeared to be a college group all traveling together. After each new person checked in, a red light would flash on the machine. It would take several minutes before an airport employee came to check on the situation. Over and over I heard him say, “Oh, you’re traveling internationally. I need to see your passport.”

After this same scenario repeated itself countless times, I was ready to scream at him, “Every single one of these sixty people in line in front of me is traveling internationally. Why don’t you just stand here and look at their passports now, instead of making us all wait through this every single time?” But I didn’t say anything. I simply held my son’s hand and waited our turn. Our turn to go home.

“When can we go back and see Grandpa? And Hannah Rose? I want to come back to Tennessee real soon.” He’d asked the questions ten times in the car and six times already since we’d gotten inside.

“What do you want to do when we get home, Dylan? You want to go to the beach? We could take your bucket and dig a moat and a castle.”

“Nah. Me and Grandpa do stuff that’s way more fun than that. I’d rather come back here.”

“What did Grandpa mean, about your project?” I looked at him, that part of the conversation just now registering with me.

Dylan shook his head. “It’s a secret.”

I wanted to tell him that we would likely not be back here for many years to come and he might as well tell me and let us both enjoy it, but I didn’t. No reason to make this any harder than it was already.

“Look at those things.” He pointed to several rows of glass display cases. “Mama, what is that?”

I’d never been more thankful for a change in subject. “It’s a traveling art and historical display that’s here at the airport through the end of the year. I read about it in the paper last week.” I pointed toward a glass case that held a musket and a coonskin cap. “I think that’s maybe what Davy Crockett used to wear.”

“But what’s that one?” He pointed farther down the way.

I strained to see inside the tabletop glass case. “Oh, that’s a replica of Stonehenge. It’s a very famous place in England. I seem to recall that no one really knows who placed those rocks there or why.”

“It’s funny that they would stand stones up like that, isn’t it, Mama? It kind of reminds me of the tree in Grandpa’s backyard.”

“What?” The question no more made it off my tongue until I was hearing Mrs. Fellows’s words about fresh starts and do-overs. But it was too late for me. I couldn’t do it over; my son had the measles and he’d passed them around. There was nothing to be done over about that.

I had come here with such hopes of restoring my family. Now I was leaving with not one bit of it still intact and no illusions that it ever would be again.

Jana had been right, I guessed. It seems that I did always leave when the going got hard. Or in this case, the going got impossible.

That’s the very second that it hit me. What it was I needed to do over. No, I couldn’t undo the damage that had already been done. What I could change was my response to the trouble. Instead of running away, I could come full circle. And in this version, I was going to face the all-night march and stand firm in the head-on battle. Even if I lost everything.

This was it for me. My chance at a do-over and I was about to miss it. I tugged at Dylan’s hand. “Come on, son.”

“Where are we going? We’re next in line.”

“We’re going home. Back to Grandpa’s house.”

As soon as we were on I-65 and headed back to Shoal Creek, I called my father. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Is everything okay?”

Perhaps in many families it would not be considered an unusual thing to call right now—to confirm safe arrival at the airport, to offer thanks for the visit, whatever. From the worried tone in my father’s voice, anyone could guess that this was not true of our family. “Yes.” I looked in my rearview mirror and changed lanes. “Well, no. Have you heard anything more from Hannah?”

“I just talked to Rob a few minutes ago. He said there wasn’t much change. I’ll call you if anything major happens.”

“I don’t think you’re going to need to do that.” I hit my brakes to avoid a car that changed lanes in front of me. A horn blared behind me.

“Why?”

“We’re on our way back to your house. I can’t leave right now. I promised you I’d be there for two weeks—”

“I can manage on my own.”

“I know you can, but this isn’t the right time to leave Jana, either. Not with Hannah so sick, not with things between us like they are now.”

“I see.” Neither of us said anything more. I kept the phone pressed against my ear and continued in silence.

Finally, he said, “I’ll make sure the porch light is on for you.”

“Thanks. I guess we’ll be there in about an hour.”

“See you then.”

And that was the end of the conversation. Somehow, I’d thought that coming full circle would be a bit more climactic than that.

Of course, there were still two other conversations I needed to have. One was with Jana, and that I’d save until tomorrow. The other was with Jasmine. I needed to call her and tell her things had changed. Coming full circle meant not running from things when they were unpleasant. And I figured this phone call would be unpleasant.

She picked up on the third ring.

“Hi, Jasmine, it’s me.”

“Hey. Tell me you’re back in town and on your way here. The place is in total chaos and you’ve got work stacked a mile high on your desk.”

“That does make me wish I was there. . . .” My attempt at sarcastic humor fell short. Better just to get to the point. “Which brings me to the reason I’m calling. I won’t be back early. In fact, I delayed my flight an extra week.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“My niece is in the hospital. She has measles. I plan to stay here until I know that she is okay. Given what Dylan experienced, I’m expecting that to take about a week.”

“You’ve already taken two weeks off work, when you had no time coming. I don’t think it is reasonable for you to expect a third week.”

“Jasmine, to tell you the truth, I can’t afford a third week. I can’t afford another day. But here’s the thing—I’m going to do the right thing, even if it’s not the best thing for me personally.” The uphill battle was fully underway now. I hoped the path didn’t get much steeper. I didn’t think I could make it.

“You know it’s in your best interest to get back here early like you promised. You know that. But when you start talking about not being here on Monday as originally planned, then you’re starting to cut into other people’s best interests—and the best interest of your job. If you choose to stay away, then you may force me into making a choice to replace you.”

“Jasmine, I would think that you of all people would understand the situation I’m in.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the one who convinced me not to vaccinate. Now an outbreak of measles amongst innocent babies who were exposed by my son has started. Many would argue that by not fulfilling my obligation to vaccinate, I am responsible for this. How can I shirk the responsibility to stay here and do what I can?”

“What exactly do you think you can do there? Your responsibility is to take care of your son. You did that by choosing not to allow the doctor to inject him with a bunch of foreign chemicals and heavy metals. Your sister’s job is to take care of her baby as best she can, and I’m sure she and the highly trained doctors can handle that just fine without you. You need to get back here and do what you are supposed to do. If you were really serious about doing what is best for your son, this decision would not even be a discussion now.”

Half of me wanted to slam down the phone, hard, and let her hear exactly what I thought of her opinion. The other half agreed that she was right. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“You’re probably right, but it’s a mistake I’ve got to make.”

I hung up the phone, my emotions torn. She was right. What good could I do here? Jana wasn’t even speaking to me. I was hardly being a help to her.

Still, it surprised me that Jasmine showed so little sympathy for my plight. She of all people.

Then the truth of the matter began to form and solidify in my mind. If it hadn’t been for Jasmine, her maniacal insistence that vaccines were harmful, wouldn’t this have been a much different trip home? And if it hadn’t been for her friend with a measles-infected son who came to visit, would my choices have mattered? Wouldn’t Dylan have spent the entire time playing with his cousin Hannah, completely healthy? And wouldn’t Jana and Rob and I even now be talking about how this trip had gone by too quickly and we weren’t ready to be apart yet? And yes, maybe even my father and I would have come to some sort of peace.

Jasmine had been the start of every bit of the problems this week. If I couldn’t get back there to help her, then it was her own fault.

After tossing and turning for the second straight night, I dragged out of bed at first light. Without even considering what I was doing, I went out to sit in the backyard. To look at the stones. To think about the commitment I made. Had I been crazy? This was likely to get awful for me and for Dylan. Why hadn’t I left when I got the chance?

Because it was time to take the chance offered to me—a chance to do things differently. To fight as hard as I needed to fight for the right outcome. A time to pray to God for the strength to do that—and maybe ask for a few hailstones along the way.

“God, I’ve been mad at my father for years now. As much as I’ve always known he didn’t hurt Mama on purpose—would never have hurt Mama on purpose—it was his fault just the same. Now I find myself in the exact same situation. I would never have made any of those children sick. As much as I’m still convinced that measles is a better option than a life of autism, I find myself in the position of having caused something I would never have purposely caused. And now everyone hates me for something that wasn’t really my fault.”

Even as I prayed the words, a part of me knew better. It
was
my fault. This whole thing was my fault. Good intentions or not, right reasoning or not, my niece was in the hospital because of a decision I’d made.

I fell to the ground. It was time to quit hiding behind the reasons and look the reality full in the face. What if it had been diphtheria? Or polio? What then?

I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Regardless of motives, I was the cause.

My father was the cause of my mother’s illness, too. Is this how he had felt all these years? All this time while I’d been angry, hating him even, perhaps he’d needed my support and love every bit as much as I needed support and love now. I had failed him when he needed me most.

On the other hand, he’d never attempted the uphill battle to fight for my forgiveness. Never once asked for it. Never faced my anger head-on. Perhaps that was what I would have to do with Jana. I hoped I had the strength to see it through.

“Okay, God, starting here, starting right now, I’m going to forgive my father. I’m going to move forward and try to salvage what I can of our relationship. I’m going to do everything in my power to help my sister and work toward earning her forgiveness. Please forgive me for doubting you for so long; help me to keep marching forward. I’m going to trust you with the results and pray that you’ll send the occasional hailstone to help me out a bit.”

At some point, I got up. For a long time I stood out there, just staring, thinking about the commitment I’d made. The commitment to start again. Just like the Israelites had done all those many years ago.

I heard the screen door slam at Mrs. Fellows’s house. She came walking toward me, wearing a long gown and robe. “You’re back.”

“Yes I am.” I looked away from her and shrugged. “I came to realize that I had more than a little in common with the Israelites. Always wanting to turn back when the road ahead looked too hard.”

“Honey, we all do, and that’s a downright shame. Who knows where He might have led us if we’d just followed in faith?”

“Yes, I’m going to try to do that now.”

She nodded her head. “It’s a good thing when you start again.”

“I sure hope so.” I truly wasn’t convinced, but I wanted to believe. More than I could ever remember wanting anything.

My father was awake when I went inside. He was sitting at the kitchen table looking at the newspaper, which he lowered slightly and looked over when I walked into the room. “How’s Mrs. Fellows this morning?”

“Good. She’s good.”

He nodded. “You want a section of the paper?”

“I . . . don’t think I do.”

“I’m hearing talk that Patti’s editorial got a lot of people riled up. Rumor is, a whole bunch of people threw their papers on the sidewalk right in front of the door to
The Advocate
.”

“Oh no.” I sat down and dropped my face into my hands. “How many more people’s lives can I mess up?”

“That Fox girl is the one who made the choice to write the article. You’re not responsible for other people; you’re responsible for yourself.”

I looked at my father. Right then and there I saw my future if I were not willing to make a different start right now. I didn’t like that thought. “That’s not true. The choices I make affect so many other people. Dylan’s measles is a case of that. My choice has affected Hannah, and other babies, too.” His expression remained absolutely blank, and I wondered if my words even registered with him. “Perhaps that article helped change one person’s mind about me, and I appreciate it very much.” Even if I’d never particularly cared for Patti.

“I guess so.” He turned the page to the sports. “Rick’s Barbecue is hosting a fund-raiser for The Lady Wildcats today. Fifteen percent of the proceeds go to help pay their way to the state championships. I don’t suppose I could convince you to drive through and pick us up something for lunch?” He eyed me warily over the top of the paper.

Several retorts came to mind, but somehow I managed to bite them all back. I held out my hand. “Can I have the TalkBack section?”

“Here you go.” He handed me the back section of the paper.

Conspiracy of Fools

I find it interesting that yesterday’s absurd article mentioned the National Vaccine Information Center. I went to this site yesterday just to see what it was about. Want to know what I found?

The small print at the bottom. It says, “ . . . we make no representations or warranties of any kind, express or implied, about the completeness, accuracy, reliability, suitability, or availability with respect to the Web site or the information, products, services, or graphics contained on the Web site. . . .”

Does anyone but me find this more than a little disturbing? This is supposedly one of the sites where we should get our information? It goes on to say they will not be “ . . . liable for any loss or damage, including, without limitation indirect or consequential loss or damage, or any loss or damage whatsoever from any activities arising out of or in connection with the use of the Web site.”

So basically it seems to me that beneath all that legal gobbledygook, the site is saying the government health agencies are all a bunch of liars and we shouldn’t listen to them. That we can’t trust them, even, and they should all be held accountable for this group’s theories about what caused their children’s developmental disorders. But if you read the fine print, this group is openly admitting we can’t trust them, either. They say that health agencies should be held responsible for their actions, regardless of what kind of science backs them up, but they themselves are not responsible for any problems people might encounter for following the advice given on their Web site.

Give me a break! This is the problem with America today.

“I’m going to write a letter to the editor right now.”

At this point it wasn’t about convincing people that I was right. This situation was way too far gone for that. I simply wanted to stand in defense of Patti, who had stood in defense of me. Perhaps I’d never liked her, probably never would, but it was time for me to break my silence.

My son had the measles. I hate this fact.

He was miserable. I am miserable because of this. He exposed several other children, who are now sick with measles. There are many people angry with me right now and I understand their feelings. In fact, to a large degree, I share them.

I also understand that several people in this community are angry with the editor of this newspaper for printing articles from the opposing viewpoint of vaccines. I beg of you, all of you, to consider that there might be a time when you are on the unpopular side of a decision. Wouldn’t you want someone to at least help people understand that there is another side to your story? If you are angry about the coverage of this, please throw your papers on my lawn, not back at The Advocate. Not at the person who may someday be your only chance to be heard.

I could explain to you all why I made the choices I did, but at this point it no longer matters. My choices have affected many of you, and for that I am sincerely sorry. Whether or not you accept this, please know that you and your families are in my heart and prayers.

Sincerely,

Grace Graham

I read and reread the letter over and over. Finally, I closed my laptop and looked at my father. “I’m going to Krystal for a minute.”

“Having a craving?”

“Very funny. I’ll be right back.”

I sat in the parking lot, read it through once, then hit Send. I was pretty certain she wouldn’t publish it, but I felt like the truth needed to be out there. If I wasn’t willing to tell it, then who would?

As I started out of the parking lot, I thought of my earlier conversation with my father this morning. Maybe it was time to offer a bit of an olive branch. I picked up my cell phone and dialed his house. “Hey, I was thinking that while I’m out, I’d pick up some barbecue for the fund-raiser. What is it that you like from there?”

And it was a nice compromise, I supposed. I was sure I could come home with grilled chicken and unbuttered corn. The coleslaw and potato chips? Well, it
was
a compromise.

After lunch—which, I have to admit, was delicious—I knew it was time to go back out to the hospital, to face Jana. I looked at my father as I loaded the last of the glasses in the dishwasher. “Do you want to go?”

“We can’t leave Dylan here alone.”

“He could come with us.”

He looked toward the den, then back at me. Checking, I assumed, to make certain we weren’t going to be overheard. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him.”

“Kelsey’s family should be gone by now, so that won’t be an issue. Jana is plenty mad at me, but she won’t take it out on Dylan.”

“Both are probably true, but he still has what’s left of his spots. He shows up out at that hospital and everyone there is going to know exactly who he is. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” I nodded. “Do you want me to drive you, then? We could just drop you off for a while.”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay here with Dylan. You go do what you need to do with your sister.”

“Okay.” I picked up the car keys, with every bit of me screaming to turn and run. “Wish me luck.”

I made for the door, determined to see this through. In spite of the fact that I really did think it might kill me.

A few minutes later I stopped at the front desk. I told the lady who I was and who I was there to see. She simply nodded and pointed me in the right direction. I called Hannah’s room on my way down the hall.

“Hello.” Rob sounded tired.

“Hey, it’s me. Listen, I didn’t leave town after all. I’m here—like here in the hospital. I’d really like to come and talk to Jana.”

I could hear the sound of voices in the background. Sounded like a nurse talking to Jana. Rob exhaled noisily into the phone. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”

The waiting room was mostly empty this time. There were two couples sitting together against the far wall, but if they had been here yesterday, I didn’t recognize them. I supposed they were just some other parents with a child, or a niece, or a friend’s child, who was sick. I nodded at them and sat in the opposite corner.