Rain Dance (28 page)

“Eve?”

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Isn’t your grandson beautiful?”

“He is. I like his name. It’s strong. I seem to remember a story about a man named Jonathan. A good friend of a king.”

“I’m glad you like it.” That she remembered a Bible story shook me, but her acknowledging it out loud shocked me. I was surprised she knew anything about the Word. I didn’t know where she’d learned it, and I didn’t know her well enough to probe.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed and slid into my slippers. “I’m thirsty. I need something besides water to drink. Would you like anything?”

She started to rise. “I can get it.”

I motioned her to sit back down. “You and Jonathan need time to get acquainted. I’ll be right back. Besides moving only hurts for a moment, then it feels better.”

I walked down the hall with a tray holding two glasses of ice and two cans of 7Up. I chatted with a couple of nurses, looked in on the babies in the nursery, and finally made it back to my room.

“You look so natural holding him,” I said.

“It feels good, but I haven’t held a boy baby in a very long time. Not since I handed your brother over to your dad all those years ago.”

“That’s sad.”

I saw tears glisten in her eyes as she looked up at me. “Oh Stacie, you have no idea how absolutely wretched it is.”

Pouring the bubbling liquid over the ice, I glanced at my mother, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, I asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I see the doctor later today. We’ll know more then.” For the first time she smiled. “I think Jonathan is handsome. He looks like Mike.”

I didn’t miss her kind reference about my husband but made no comment. Our sarcastic banter and competition seemed a thing of the past—at least for today. In its place we spoke with quiet respect.

“What do you want him to call you?”

“Grandma sounds good. Why?”

“Since you want me to call you Eve, I just wondered.”

“Does it bother you to call me by my name?”

“To be honest, yes. I just wanted you to be Mom.”

“Is it too late?”

“No, it’s not.”

Her words embraced me, and I decided to try it out right away.

“Mom, I need to tell you some things.” The old flinch in her shoulders was gone, and I caught a glimpse of a twinkle in her eye.

“Let me put this little guy in his bed and we’ll talk.”

As she walked back to the chair, I noticed that her slacks hung funny. She hadn’t just lost weight. She was gaunt. Fear shimmied up my spine.

Sitting back in the rocker, she took a sip of her cold drink. “I’m ready.”

“Stevie came up to meet Jonathan earlier.”

“I know. Your dad called me when they left.”

“Are you going to see him?”

It came out sounding pushy when all I wanted was to see my family reunited. Before I could apologize Eve smiled. Amazed, I just sat there.

“Your dad is taking me today.”

“Does Stevie know?”

“He does. I understand he has a celebration planned for me.” She sighed. “I don’t know how to do this. For years I met with the president, other senators, faced opponents and handled the press. I dealt with total strangers in many different, often unfamiliar, situations. None of it intimidated me. Yet seeing my own son scares me.

“My palms sweat and my stomach flutters just thinking about him. Today I will come face to face with the child I abandoned. The last time I saw him he was a baby, and now I’m told he’s almost as tall as I am. Your dad says the boy loves me and somehow understands that I couldn’t see him yet because he is different. No one told him that, he just figured it out. His compassion for me is staggering.”

“In his innocence and faith, he can’t imagine not loving you.”

“I shunned him and made your father take him away. How can he love me?”

She got up and paced, and I saw her feet slip inside her pumps. Even her shoes were too big for her. My stomach clenched.

“We’ve never talked like this before, Eve. Why?”
Okay, the mom—thing
is
going to take some time.

She sat back down, exhausted. “Probably because I never let my defenses down with anyone after Stevie’s birth. It was too much. My son was defective and imperfect. Everything I did before he was born was without flaw. Everything afterward I made my battleground. I didn’t let you in. Or anyone except your father, and I held him at arm’s length. I stopped holding you altogether. I believed if I kept you at a safe distance from me it would hurt us both less. I was wrong.”

“So what’s different now?”

“Cancer changes everything. So does being a grandmother.”

“It’s not too late. We still have time, right?”

A fear bigger than any I’d ever faced rose up in me. Her frail body, her shaking hands, and the dark circles under her eyes emphasized how serious her illness was.

Oh God, I just got my mother back—please don’t take her from me! I want her to live!

Before I could tell her about my newfound faith, someone brought my lunch. Then the nurse came to check on Jonathan, and Mike walked in.

In spite of the interruptions, Eve and I looked deep into each other’s eyes for the first time as mothers. Nothing between us would ever be the same.

She took my hand and smiled. Not for a camera. For me and me alone.

“We can use whatever time we have to tear down the walls. It should be quite a journey.”

Her words felt like a promise. I began to believe in miracles.

Chapter
25

Jonica

A week after Jonathan’s birth, the publisher released my new children’s book. I did a read-a-loud signing at our local bookstore. The store manager set up a cozy corner that included a rocking chair for me and pillows on the floor for the kids. There were cookies and milk for everyone. The manager and one of her employees watched the kids, meeting little needs as they arose.

Looking into the faces, I rejoiced. They not only liked the story, they asked questions about God and His Word. Natalie stood nearby with Ben, while Jeremy and Kevin listened, inching closer to my lap by the minute.

In Natalie’s womb we now knew God was knitting together a little girl. Amanda. I loved her already. Contentment washed over me like a warm rain.

One little girl in the group resented the boys’ crowding forward. “What are you doing?” she asked, standing, hands on her little hips.

“I want to sit on my Aunt Jonica’s lap. She always holds us when she reads us stories,” Jeremy declared.

“You know her?” she asked, taken aback.

“Yep. She’s my family.”

The loudspeaker announced the end of story time. Ben kissed me goodby before returning to the office. Moms gathered their children and lined up to have their books signed. One woman asked if the boys who looked like my husband were my sons.

When I told her they were our nephews and that I couldn’t have children, she asked, “So what gives you the experience to write for them?”

“I was one.”

She smiled, and the tense moment passed.

Several women told me their children had asked questions after having my books read to them. Sometimes their discussions led to their sons and daughters inviting Jesus to come into their hearts. I silently thanked God for giving my stories eternal value and for using me in the lives of children. I hugged lots of kids and their moms.

Eve came and bought a signed copy for Jonathan. She walked around for a while as if shopping. She spoke with the manager, but I lost track of her as I visited with other customers.

When the little girl got ready to leave the store, she turned to Jeremy. “You’re lucky.”

“Yep, pretty lucky,” he agreed.

I mattered to these kids. A warm, fuzzy, feel-good emotion rose in my spirit at the same time humility hit home. They trusted and believed what I wrote about Jesus. Their parents used the stories God placed in my heart and mind to lead their little ones to Himself. The responsibility of representing God and His Word was a privilege I accepted enthusiastically and earnestly.

Father, I thank You for it all. Even the infertility. I don’t understand, but I accept Your ways. Help me to always tell the children the Truth, the whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth.

I looked at the two little boys waiting to take me to lunch. Because I liked Chinese and we were celebrating my book, we’d go to Wong’s. Then we wanted to feed the geese. Later, the boys were coming to our house to spend the night.

I looked into Natalie’s eyes. The ugliness and misunderstanding were long gone, replaced by loving acceptance. We acknowledged God had done the work in both of us. For the first time we were sisters in Him and in our hearts.

Through the door stepped my friend, Stacie. “Sorry I’m late,” she apologized breathlessly. “Jonathan had a fussy morning.”

After I introduced my friend and my sister-in-law, Natalie asked if she could hold Jonathan. While the store manager and I compared notes, they compared baby stories.

Natalie introduced Jonathan to her boys and explained that he would be visiting at their house sometimes. Stacie bent down to meet them face to face and shook their hands. Kevin didn’t let go. Jeremy asked if she liked Chinese. Natalie invited her to join us, and she accepted.

“It looks like I’m having lunch with my three boys then,” I said, grinning at a few of my favorite people. “This is my kind of party!”

I could hardly wait to get home and thank God for all the good He was doing in my life.

Stacie

The week following Jonathan’s birth amazed me. The fall election went to the other party, but Eve didn’t seem disappointed. “The people spoke and I trust them,” was her only comment.

She called every day to talk to her grandson. “I want him to recognize my voice,” she said. When I told her what a good baby he was she responded, “So were you.”

I hung on to those precious words.

My body adjusted faster than I expected. Mike and I walked the mall in the evenings, pushing Jonathan in the fancy stroller Dad and Mom had dropped off and dreaming of spring and jogging again.

On Saturday Jonathan woke up fussy. I realized that my rush to get to Jonica’s book signing wasn’t helping. He preferred a slow morning feeding, a bath, and a nap in his own bed. He reminded me of Mike. His morning routine set the tone for his day.

“Like father, like son,” I said to my sleepy boy.

I was more than a little amazed when I drove into the bookstore parking lot and saw my mother walking toward her car.

“Oh Jonathan, Grandma just bought you a new book,” she gushed.

My mother
gushing?
Will wonders never cease.
Oh, I hope not.

When she opened the bag to get the book out, I saw a Bible box. Hope danced across my spirit.

“I didn’t expect you back from Washington until this evening. Did you get all your stuff packed up?”

“The boxes and furniture are in storage for now. I flew home late last night. I wanted to be with your dad. Then I read about the book signing in one of last week’s papers and decided to come. I’ve never been in one of these stores. It’s very interesting. Full of pretty things.”

She noticed me staring and turned rosy. The woman who spoke publically about sexual freedom, birth control, and reproductive rights blushed about being in a Christian bookstore and liking it.

“Mom, you look good. Are you feeling better?”

“I am. Letting go of all the stress is a huge relief. And knowing I’m in remission at least for now helps. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my time, but I hope to fill some of it with my family.”

“We’re starting with supper tonight.”

“We are, she said. I invited the Daniels too. Madeline is a photographer and we’re going to have our first official family portrait taken.”

Her eyes filled with tears. She touched her wig.

“It looks like your real hair, Mom. Don’t worry. I like the salt and pepper look on you.”

“I am a grandmother now,” she said with a smile.

“You are.”

“It’s not the wig so much as the cancer. It could come back at any time. And then there’s Stevie. You know he hung an empty frame on his wall waiting for this picture. I just can’t get over his patience or his confidence. Well, I’d better let you go celebrate your friend’s accomplishment, and I need to get going myself.”

I couldn’t hold the words back. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too.”

Two pairs of emerald eyes looked at each other in wonder. She patted my cheek. “See you later.”

Inside the store, my friend glowed. I’d prayed this day might give her a sense of worth and help her see the value in her work. She had expressed her concern that kids might find the book boring, that maybe it was a good story idea but she hadn’t written it as well as it could be.

While she wound up her signing, I got to know Natalie and her boys. Jeremy bent down to say hi to Jonathan, and Kevin quietly touched the baby’s cheek.

“He’s soft,” he said, and smiled. I wanted my son to grow up knowing these kids. I wondered about the little girl Natalie carried in her womb. Would she play an important role in Jonathan’s life?

Good grief. I’m a matchmaking mother.

At supper I drank in the feeling of family as we gathered around the table. We ate pot roast with all the trimmings. My dad asked Chandler to give thanks for the meal. Stevie concluded the prayer with a hearty “Amen!”

We ate the platters clean, then Mom carried a homemade apple pie into the dining room. “I haven’t made one of these since Stacie was a baby. I hope it tastes good.”

Eve in the kitchen?

I still fumbled with the name thing. All the changes in our lives were staggering.

“Stevie, you told me this is your favorite, so I made it for you.”

He grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Thanks, Mom!”

Madeline took several photos during the evening. We posed for the official family portrait but my favorite turned out to be the one of Stevie and Mom in profile. They were face to face, noses almost touching, connected in a long look as if memorizing each other.