Dana's Valley (15 page)

“Why don't you go along with Daddy? Keep him company?” Mom asked me. I wanted to. But it didn't seem fair. I shook my head and reached for Dana's coat. “I'll put this in the laundry tub to soak,” I said and headed for the utility room without even taking off my own coat.

It wasn't so bad … waiting at home. As soon as Mom was sure Dana's nose had stopped bleeding, she settled her on the sofa and tried to get us all perked up again. I was sent to get a bowl of fresh apples and mandarin oranges from the basement cold room, and Corey settled at the kitchen table to draw a picture for hanging on the front door to welcome our grandparents. Brett was sent to the nearby store for mocha pecan ice cream, Grandma Tyler's favorite dessert. Grandma Walsh went to work in the kitchen with Mom, who was soon talking and laughing again. Our world seemed to have been restored. I hoped with all my heart that Dad would not be late. He would be embarrassed if Grandpa and Grandma had to wait at the airport for someone to come to pick them up. It would be awkward enough that he was showing up alone.

But all that was quickly forgotten when we welcomed them later that evening. It turned out to be even more special than we had anticipated, having Grandpa and Grandma Tyler with us. Attending the Christmas Eve service together was really great. I liked the way that Grandpa sang the carols. In a booming voice, as if he meant every word. For the first time in my life I started to really give some thought to what I was singing. Later, over cups of hot chocolate and some of Mom's special Christmas cookies, Grandpa told us what the words would be in the Spanish language. I liked the sound of it all, but I really didn't know where one word stopped and the next one started when they flowed together in the familiar Christmas music. Still, it was fun. Then Grandpa and Grandma sang a new song for us, and Mom joined in. I guess she still hadn't forgotten the Spanish she had learned as a missionary kid, though I had never heard her use it before.

Christmas Day was fun too. We tried to stay in bed a bit later. Mom had asked us to think about the older people in the household, but it was Grandpa who knocked on
our
door and poked his head in.

“Thought it was Christmas,” he teased. “We used to get up before the chickens on Christmas morning.”

We were out of bed in a hurry after that. Grandma Tyler was already up. She had a cup of coffee in her hand and was sitting in one of the chairs by the fireplace. Dad already had a nice cozy fire going. I could hear Mom in the kitchen stirring about, and then Grandma Walsh's voice let me know that Mom wasn't alone.

Soon Brett came straggling in. He still didn't like to get up in the morning, even on Christmas. Corey and Dad came in with armloads of more wood for the fireplace. Corey, as usual, was talking a mile a minute.

“So how
does
he, then?”

I didn't know who he was talking about, but Dad smiled as he answered Corey.

“Maybe he doesn't.”

“But Chad says he does.”

“Maybe Chad likes to pretend. That's fine. We'll just let Chad think what he wants to think.”

Corey dropped his load of wood in the box Dad had put there for that purpose. Then he shook small wood chips off his shirt right onto Mom's newly vacuumed carpet. She didn't say anything.

“Come over here, sport,” said Grandpa, sitting down on the sofa and patting the place beside him. Corey bounded over, a big grin spreading across his face.

“So …” Grandpa asked. “Do you think anything under that tree belongs to you?”

Corey nodded. He had already checked out the presents—many times.

“Will you share with me?” Grandpa went on.

“You've got your own. I saw.”

“But I bet mine are just grown-up stuff. Socks and soap and stuff. It'd be a lot more fun to play with yours.”

Corey looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded his head. I knew he was solemnly agreeing to share his toys—whatever they were—with Grandpa. Grandpa tousled his reddish hair playfully and hugged him closer.

I guessed Mom got her love for life, and for people, from Grandpa. They seemed to always be laughing about something together. Grandma was a bit more reserved. She spent a lot of time reading to Corey or talking quietly with Dana. She asked Brett to drive her—in his car—to the store a couple of times. I could see in his eyes that it made him feel really proud.

Our grandparents even came to one of my basketball games. I had never wanted to play a good game more in all my life. But I fouled out, third quarter. It was embarrassing until Grandpa told me that I'd played a superb, “intense” game. I liked that word, intense. It seemed to justify my being a little too aggressive.

But our time with our grandparents was going to be over soon. I knew that within a few days they would need to travel on to the clinic where Grandpa was going to be working with the others on the new drug. I hated to have them leave. I had no idea when I would see them again. When grandparents live on a mission field, you don't get to see them very much.

Though Grandpa loved fun, I knew there was a serious side to him too. It appeared almost every time he looked at Dana. He seemed to be studying her. Once or twice I heard him asking her questions. And I saw his hand go to her forehead several times. He even rubbed her back and asked where it was aching.

Grandma seemed concerned about Dana too. I knew she was a nurse, and I supposed it was quite natural for nurses—and doctors—to want to know things about how people felt. Even so, I wasn't prepared for the little conversation that I overheard the evening before Grandpa and Grandma were to catch the plane for the West Coast clinic.

“I don't want to alarm you,” Grandpa was saying to my folks, “but I think you should probe further for the cause of Dana's illness. I know lupus is ‘iffy.' Hard to pin down. But some of the symptoms aren't consistent in my view. When I did a little research on the Internet, I noticed that lupus is associated with pain in the joints. Dana is complaining of pain in her bones themselves. That doesn't seem right to me.”

I had entered the kitchen to get myself a drink of water. Now I stopped short and listened. It wasn't the words as much as the tone of Grandpa's voice that frightened me.

The four of them were seated around the kitchen table. They had been having a cup of coffee together, but now the cups had been pushed aside. All four faces looked somber and tense. I don't think they even knew I was near.

“What do you think … ?”

Mom didn't finish the question. Grandpa answered anyway. “I wouldn't want to guess. There are a number of things it could be. But the important thing is to find out. You can't administer proper treatment until you've diagnosed the proper illness. And it may be extremely important not to lose any more time.”

“How do—what should we do?” Dad asked, his voice holding an edge of frustration and worry.

“Well … certainly she should have more blood work done. Extensive blood work. That's the place to start.”

“Our doctor doesn't think—” began Mom.

But Grandpa cut in, almost sharply. “Then find one who
does.
”

Mom's head dropped. I could see there were tears gathering in her eyes. I guess Grandpa saw them too. He reached out and took her hand. “I don't want to worry you, my dear, but I'm concerned or I'd never press you like this. I think you need to pursue this further. I'm not prepared to say—”

But Grandpa stopped. He looked as worried as my folks. I moved forward and managed to stub a bare toe hard on the leg of the kitchen stool. Four pairs of eyes lifted in surprise. Mom was the one who spoke. “You okay?”

I nodded. But my toe really hurt. Still, I was anxious to get my drink now and limp back up to our bedroom. I felt scared. Really scared … and I didn't know why. It was just that the faces around the table all looked so worried.

“Want me to check that toe?” Grandpa Tyler asked, genuine concern edging his voice. But I shook my head even as I grimaced.

Mom sighed. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I tried … but I was thirsty.” No excuse, I knew, for standing and listening in.

“Come here and give me one more hug,” Grandma invited. They had to leave very early the next morning. We had all hugged them good-bye—several times. But one more sounded okay to me. I crossed to Grandma and let her pull me close while I wrapped an arm around her neck.

“You kids will be nearly grown-up when I see you again.” Her voice sounded wistful. “That's the hardest part of being away.”

Grandpa had reached for my hand. He nodded. “If only we could tie a brick on our grandkids' heads. Keep them from growing up,” he teased. I smiled at the thought.

“We have a prayer time together before we go to bed,” Grandma explained. “Is there anything special you would like us to pray about?”

I thought about basketball and the big game that was coming up, but it really didn't seem right to ask them to pray about that. I just shook my head. Then I remembered the reason I still felt butterflies in my stomach. “Dana,” I said.

I wanted to say more, but right then I couldn't. I felt scared all over again. Grandma's arm tightened around me. “We'll be praying for Dana,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “God knows all about Dana's needs.”

I felt a little better as I pulled back from Grandma's arm and kissed her on the cheek one more time. I was awfully glad that Dana's condition was being brought to God's attention by so many people. I'd been told that He was even better at fixing things than my dad.

Dad was the one who talked to the doctor. I guess he got some results, because Dana was soon scheduled for new blood work. They had to go to a distant city hospital with better laboratory facilities than our hospital had. She would be staying for a couple of days. Unfortunately, the date they were given meant they had to be away for one of my most important basketball games. Previously Dad had said he'd be at the game. So when he discovered the scheduling difficulty, he called me into his home office to talk about it.

“Erin, you know I said I'd be there to watch you play this game even if I had to take off from work early.”

I nodded.

“Well, the appointment for Dana's specialist means that we'll have to leave home that morning.”

I knew I couldn't protest. Not when Dana's health was at stake. I just swallowed … hard. I didn't trust myself to look up.

“You know what that means?”

I tried to nod.

“This doctor is an exceedingly busy man. If we don't take this appointment, we won't be able to get another for months.”

I still didn't say anything. I wanted to, but the words just wouldn't come.

Dad reached for my hand. “You'll give me a rain check?” He searched my face.

I shuffled a foot. “Sure,” I managed. The season was drawing to a close, and there would be few opportunities for “rain checks.”

“You understand?” he pressed.

“Sure,” I said again.

“It's important that we find out exactly what is the matter with Dana. We can't get her the right help until we know.”

I finally looked up. “I know,” I agreed. “I want her better too.”

Dad squeezed my hand. “There'll be other games,” he said. I knew that was his promise that he'd be there. I nodded. Sure there would be other games. But I had really wanted Dad at this one. Coach said I was in line for the Most Improved Player award if I kept on playing the way I had been. I really wanted that award. There was even a chance that I'd be first string for the big game. Kelly Thomas was out with a sprained wrist. I nodded again, anxious to leave. There really wasn't anything more to say.

They didn't have to worry about us kids much as they packed up to take Dana to the hospital. Grandma Walsh was with us, and she promised to take care of things while they were gone. I'm sure it was a relief to my folks, but I still saw a worried look in Mom's eyes. I think Corey was making her concerned. He was already discovering that Grandma was a bit easy to talk into liberties. He'd stretch out his bedtime or eat snacks just before meals or just play in the tub when he was supposed to be scrubbing. And we'd all noticed that he had begun whining when he didn't get his way.