Seasons Under Heaven (23 page)

The telephone rang, waking Cathy, and she squinted at the clock. Which one of her children’s friends would be rude enough to call this late, she asked herself, and picked up the phone to tell them it wouldn’t be tolerated. “Hello?” she snapped.

“Cathy, this is Brenda.”

She sat up straight in bed. “Brenda. What is it?”

“We’ve got a heart. They’re taking Joseph to surgery now.”

“Yes!” Cathy shouted triumphantly. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes!”

“You don’t have to come. That’s all right.”

“Are you kidding? I’ll be there.” She hung up and began throwing her clothes on as fast as she could.

Annie appeared at the door, still wearing her jeans and T-shirt. She hadn’t yet gone to bed. “Who was that, Mom?”

“Brenda. They’ve got a heart. Joseph’s going into surgery.”

“I wanna come!” Annie cried.

Rick stepped into the hall in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. “What’s all the noise?”

“Joseph’s got a heart,” Annie said. “Mom, wait, I have to get my shoes.”

“Hey, I’m goin’, too,” Rick shouted.

“But there’s nothing to do but wait. Anyway, somebody has to stay with Mark.”

Mark stepped groggily into his doorway. “What’s all the yelling about?”

She pulled on her shoes and headed to the stairwell. “Joseph is getting his new heart,” she shouted. “I’m headed for the hospital. You three just stay here.”

“Please, Mom!” Mark protested. “I wanna come with you.”

She stopped and turned back on the stairwell. Annie had found her shoes and was leaning over the banister with a pleading look on her face. “Mom, we’re in this, too. We helped. We want to be there.”

“Please, Mom,” Rick begged.

She sighed. “Everybody has five minutes to get dressed and into the car, or I’m leaving without you.” She went back into her room and brushed her hair and teeth, and hoped that her gang would bring more encouragement than noise to the hospital.

Tory wasn’t conscious enough to make sense out of the ringing telephone. Finally, Barry answered it. “Hello?”

She felt him sit up quickly in bed, then shake her shoulder. “Wake up, babe, it’s Brenda.”

Tory grabbed the phone and tried to shake the cobwebs out of her brain. She gave Barry a dreadful look. He returned it. Was Brenda calling to tell them Joseph had died?

Already feeling sick, she brought the phone to her ear. “Brenda?”

“Tory, we’ve got a heart,” Brenda said.

Relief washed over her. “You’re kidding! That’s great! I’m coming to the hospital to wait with you.”

“All right,” Brenda said. “You might be able to catch Cathy and come with her.”

Tory hung up and threw open her closet door. “Barry, they’ve got a heart! I’m going to the hospital. Will you stay with the kids?”

“Sure,” he said. He was on his feet, too, wide awake now.

“If it goes all night, I’ll try to get back in time for you to go to work.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll go in late.”

She pulled out the clothes she would wear, then swung around. “Oh, Barry, pray hard!”

“You got it.” He slid his arms around her. “You be careful, okay? Don’t drive like a maniac.”

“I’m not driving if I can catch Cathy,” she said. “Barry, will you call her while I get dressed and ask if I can have a ride?”

He picked up the phone.

“Oh, Barry, this could all be over soon.”

As Barry punched Cathy’s number, he looked up and said, “Maybe our prayers are finally being answered.”

At the Dodds’ house, Brenda’s phone call to tell Sylvia about the heart had awakened Daniel. By the time Sylvia hung up, Daniel was standing in the doorway, listening.

“What is it, Miss Sylvia?” Daniel asked.

When she saw the fear on his face, she got up and put her hands on his shoulders. “Daniel, they’ve found a heart for your brother. They’ll be taking him into surgery soon.”

Daniel stared at her, then swung around and ran back up the hall. “Leah, Rachel, wake up! Joseph’s got a heart!”

Sylvia thought of trying to stop him, but it was too late. The girls sprang from their beds, dancing with joy. “Joseph’s got a heart! Can we go there, Miss Sylvia? Please!”

Sylvia decided there were things more important than keeping hospital rules. “Get dressed,” she said. “I’ll take you.”

They whooped and hollered as they pulled on their clothes. Within minutes, they were in the car, headed for the hospital.

Cathy with Tory and her kids, made it to the hospital in record time. They parked near the emergency room because the lights in the parking lot were stronger there, and they felt safer cutting through the building than walking through the parking lot. They headed to CICU first to see if the Dodds were waiting there. A few reporters with television cameras were standing in the hallway, and Tory wondered if they considered Joseph’s transplant newsworthy. But how would they have known about it?

“I’ll go see if Brenda and David are in there,” Tory said, and left Cathy and the kids in the corridor. She pushed through the press into the CICU waiting room. She didn’t see the Dodds—only a scattering of strangers, most of them asleep in chairs. In the corner, a woman was crying, and her husband was holding her as a doctor in scrubs spoke softly to them. Against her chest, she clutched a pair of small, dirty tennis shoes.

Tory turned to leave, but before she reached the door, she heard the woman’s voice. “Please…can you put these on his feet? I don’t want his feet to get cold.”

Tory turned back to the couple and saw the doctor take the shoes as the woman crumpled painfully against her husband. Tory met the woman’s eyes, saw the shattering despair, the tragedy.
There must have been a death in that family
, she thought. Compassion surged through her…but then she remembered Joseph. A passing nurse pointed out the surgical intensive care waiting room, and Tory rushed back out, grabbed Cathy and the kids, and headed for it.

The waiting room filled up fast. By the time they had all arrived, the surgery had begun. Tory looked around at the tired, jubilant faces, so thankful that they had this chance to save Joseph. At first, the conversation was hyperactive and ecstatic, but as the hours ticked by, Brenda and David got noticeably quieter. Brenda couldn’t seem to sit still. She kept crossing the room, back and forth, back and forth, going down the hall to the Coke machine and back, and constantly checking the telephone in the waiting room for a dial tone, since the doctor had promised to call the moment surgery was over.

Once, when Brenda left the room, she didn’t come back for a while, and Tory decided to look for her. When she didn’t find her roaming the halls or in the bathroom, she checked the chapel. Brenda was sitting on the pew at the front of the small room. Tory started to turn back and leave her alone to pray, but when Brenda turned around and saw her at the door, she said, “Come on in, Tory. It’s okay.”

“Go ahead,” Tory said. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“No, really,” Brenda said. “Come on in.”

Tory walked the short aisle, feeling as if she were entering holy ground. Though Brenda’s eyes were red and wet, her face glowed with a beauty Tory knew no amount of makeup could achieve. It came from deep inside, nurtured and cultivated by the trials Brenda had endured. Tory sat down next to her. “It’s taking a long time, isn’t it?” she asked.

Brenda nodded and got to her feet. She paced in front of the altar, then stopped and stared at the stained glass. “But we knew it would. You don’t swap hearts out just like that. I don’t want them to rush.”

Tory thought of how impossible heart transplant surgery seemed, and how miraculous that doctors had ever found a way to make it work. The thought of her own children lying on that table under oxygen masks and anesthesia, their chests open and exposed, and their very life sitting in a container waiting to be put into their bodies—the thought made her eyes well up with tears. She tried to fight it, for Brenda’s sake.

Brenda turned around and settled her misty eyes on Tory. “I was just thinking,” she whispered, “about the parable of the talents.”

Tory looked at her, wondering how that particular parable could possibly apply to what was happening here. Had she been worrying about the money?

“I was thinking how those talents could just as well be our children,” Brenda said. “God gave them to us, and we have the option of either hiding them in the ground or investing them.”

Tory tried to make the analogy, but came up short. “What do you mean hide them in the ground?”

Brenda shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Ignore them, maybe. Stay too busy to spend time with them. There are an awful lot of stray kids running around with no one to take care of them. Oh, I don’t mean that they’re homeless or orphaned. Their parents are meeting their physical and material needs, but that’s about it. They’re not loving them, teaching them, training them up in the way they should go.”

Tory kept her eyes on Brenda, trying to follow where she was leading.

“In fact,” Brenda went on in a shaky voice, “they’re wishing they didn’t even have them, because they cramp their style and interfere with their goals.”

Tory felt slapped down, as if Brenda had just nailed her. But she could see in Brenda’s face that she hadn’t directed that at
Tory. She wasn’t pointing a finger; she was just painting a picture. Maybe she didn’t realize how close to home she had hit.

“So many people just keep looking to the future,” Brenda went on. “They think, ‘Someday my kids’ll grow up and I’ll be happy.’ And others look back and think, ‘If only my kids were home again, I’d be happy.’ And some think, ‘If I could just do this or be that, I’d be happy.’ But it’s funny how they’re never very happy. Even Christians,” she said, as if that surprised her. She looked down at Tory. “But you know what?”

Tory wiped her face and shook her head. “No, what?”

“I’ve been happy. God’s given me these four children, and I’ve invested them. They’re my life’s work. I know you want to be a writer, Tory,” she said, sitting back down and taking Tory’s hand. “You’d love to win a Pulitzer prize and have your books on the shelves of bookstores. But you know what? To me, that’s not as exciting as what you and I get to do every day. Think of it,” she whispered. “We’ve got these little human beings in our hands, and it’s our job to raise them up in the way God wants them, so that when He comes back for them, we can say we invested them wisely.”

Tory stared at the altar, trying to let the words sink in. She had never thought of her children as being much of a blessing. They had come easily, just when she’d planned them, and most days, she found them to be an obstacle between her and her ambitions. That exasperation was an occupational hazard, she had told herself. All mothers felt this way. Worn out, overworked, spinning their wheels. As much as she loved them, she often resented them.

She looked up at Brenda, and saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. “God may take Joseph back today,” Brenda went on. “But if He does, I’ll know that I gave Joseph all I had. I invested him wisely.” Her voice broke, and her lips trembled as she got the words out. “If he grows to be an adult, I’ve prepared him to be a godly man. And if he doesn’t, I think God will be happy with what I did for him, anyway.”

Silence fell like snowflakes between them.

After a while, Tory whispered, “Imagine that. Guilt-free parenting, knowing you could look God in the eye, because you did your best.” It was a concept hard for her to grasp.

Finally, Brenda wiped her tears with both hands and got to her feet. “We’d better get back. The doctor might call.”

Tory couldn’t manage to move just yet. “I’ll be there in a minute,” she said. “I just want to pray a little myself.”

Brenda nodded and gave her a tight, lingering hug. Then she left Tory alone.

Tory looked up at the stained glass dove, then down at the altar, letting the words her friend had just spoken seep into her heart. She began to weep harder. “Lord, forgive me,” she whispered. “Forgive me for seeing my children as an inconvenience. For not investing them wisely. For not giving them everything I have.” She went to the altar and knelt, her face in her hands. “Lord, little Joseph has been invested wisely, and if he’s allowed to grow up, there’s no telling what he can do for Your kingdom.” A sob rose in her throat, and she wiped the tears away. “Oh, Lord. Please let him live. And thank You, thank You, for my children.”

She felt the peace of the Holy Spirit fall over her. Bone tired and still reeling with the wisdom Brenda had planted in her mind, she headed back to the waiting room.

By daybreak, the tension had grown unbearable. Brenda paced back and forth, back and forth in the surgical intensive care waiting room, waiting for word. David stood in the doorway, watching for the doctor.

Cathy sat with her head back against the wall, unable to move because Annie had fallen asleep on her shoulder. It was the closest her daughter had been to her in months, so she didn’t dare wake her up. Daniel and his sisters, who had been elated at first, had now grown quiet as they saw the stress mounting on their parents’ faces. Mark and Rick, who’d chattered a lot earlier in the morning, had now grown quiet, too.

Sylvia and Tory sat next to each other, conversing quietly about what kind of geraniums Tory should plant on the east side of her house, and whether the Bryans should tear down the stables since the horses had been sold. But they kept their eyes on the door, waiting for someone—anyone—to bring them word.

Mark and Rick finally offered to go to the cafeteria and get everyone a breakfast roll, but before they’d reached the elevator, the doors opened. Harry, dressed in scrubs, got off. They knew he’d been assisting in the surgery, so they stopped cold. “Is it over?” Mark asked.

Harry put his arms around their shoulders. “Yeah. It’s over.” He led them back into the waiting room, and everyone froze.

Harry looked first at Brenda, then at David. The exhaustion on his own face matched the fear and anxiety on theirs. Neither of the Dodds could ask the question they were all waiting to have answered, and Harry seemed too drained to speak. Finally, with obvious effort, he took a deep breath and looked around.

“Joseph came through just fine,” he said, and a whoop went up as Brenda and David threw themselves at each other. The Dodd kids got to their feet, cheering and embracing. Sylvia threw her arms around Harry, and he laughed as tears came to his eyes.

“Can we see him?” Brenda asked over the noise.

“He’s still in recovery. It was a perfect heart, Brenda. Strong and healthy.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “You can see him when they get him into surgical ICU. Meanwhile, the transplant team needs to see you both downstairs. There are a lot of things they need to go over with you.”

Tory was exhausted by the time she got home. Her children were still sleeping, but Barry was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and watching the news on television. He got up when she came in, and gave her a kiss.

“Is he all right?” he asked.

“The surgery was successful. Joseph has a new heart.”

“And?” Barry asked. “What happens now?”

“Well, it’s kind of touch and go. He’s going to be in SICU for a while. They’re watching him real closely. But they’re saying they’ll have him out of bed walking around by tomorrow,
and he may be able to come home in a week or so if all goes well. The drugs suppress his immune system, so they figure he’s safer at home than in a hospital full of germs. We just have to see what happens.”

“You must be tired,” he said. “Let me get you some breakfast.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m not hungry.”

As she watched the news absently, a snapshot of a little boy with a buzz cut and huge brown eyes flashed on the television screen, and she glanced up as the anchor read, “Eight-year-old Tony Anderson was killed instantly when the oncoming car crossed the median and barreled into his family’s Ford.” The little boy’s face was replaced by scenes of the wreck that had killed him—and then by footage of the grieving parents in the hospital waiting room. Tory slowly got to her feet. The camera zoomed in on a little pair of dirty tennis shoes, clutched against the heart of the grieving mother. It was the same couple Tory had seen in the waiting room before the surgery, when she’d been looking for the Dodds.

“…pronounced dead at one thirty-five at St. Francis Hospital,” the report went on.

That woman, whose eyes she had met, the woman who had been clutching her child’s shoes and wailing with such horrible grief, had lost her child last night, not an hour before Tory had gotten to the hospital. Her eyes filled with tears.

Barry noticed it. “Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? What is it?”

“The news,” she said. “That little boy.”

“Did you know that family?”

“No, but last night…” She caught her breath. “I saw them in the waiting room. They were devastated. And there were cameras in the hall. I must have seen them right after the cameras filmed them.” She looked up at Barry, her eyes intense. “Do you think that could have been the heart that Joseph got?”

He looked thoughtful. “Did they say where his heart had come from?”

“No,” she said. “But Brenda was surprised at how fast they had gotten it. It was already at the hospital when they told Brenda and David. That wouldn’t have happened, would it, unless the child had died there?”

“Probably not,” he whispered.

He held her, letting her cry against his shoulder. “Why is this upsetting you so?” he asked.

“Because I looked that mother in the eye,” she said, “and I saw her pain. Then I went up to the room where everybody was celebrating that Joseph had gotten a heart. But it was
that
little boy’s heart.”

“Maybe,” Barry said. “But if it weren’t for that heart, Joseph’s parents would have been the ones grieving.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I know. It just hit me so hard. When you see dying children, and you come home to your own, you wonder why they were spared.” She pulled out of his arms and tried to catch her breath. “The kids aren’t up yet?”

“No,” he whispered. “They’re in Britty’s bed. Spencer claimed to be scared for her, so he got into bed with her.”

Tory managed to smile. When something frightened their son, he always claimed he was scared for his sister. “I’ll go see if they’re awake.”

She pulled out of his arms and headed for Brittany’s room. The two children lay tangled in the covers, Spencer in his Superman pajamas, Brittany in a Tennessee Oilers T-shirt.

She started toward them—and promptly tripped on Spencer’s shoes, lying in the middle of the floor. Steadying herself, she bent down and picked them up—and was immediately reminded of those shoes the bereaved mother had clutched last night, and the despair in her voice as she’d asked the doctor to put them on her son so his feet wouldn’t get cold.

How irrational. How perfectly understandable.

The woman had lost her son.

Tory closed her eyes and clutched Spencer’s shoes against her chest. New tears came to her eyes. Feeling Barry’s hands on her shoulders, she turned around and looked intently up at her husband.
“I’m going to change, Barry. You’ll see. I’m not going to whine anymore. Why did I ever think that my only goal and purpose in life is to write, when I have these wonderful children?”

He just held her tightly.

“Mommy?” It was Spencer’s voice, and he yawned and stretched, then got up and reached for her. She sat on the bed and pulled him into her lap. Brittany woke up then, too, and sleepily said, “Hey, Mommy.”

“Hey, darlin’. Guess what? Joseph got a new heart last night.”

“Does he like it?” Spencer asked.

Tory grinned. “I’m sure he does.”

“Will he come home now?” Brittany asked.

“I think so. In a few days. If everything goes well.” She patted Spencer’s bare little leg, then ruffled Brittany’s hair. “So what do you guys want to do today?”

“Aren’t you tired?” Barry asked. “Don’t you need to sleep?”

“I’ve still got a little energy left,” she said. “I want to invest it in my family.”