The Still of Night (23 page)
“You just got here.”
“A stopover on the way to Beauview.”
Rick raised his eyebrows. “Going home?”
Funny how he and Rick both still called it home when it hadn’t been home for either of them for years. But Morgan shook his head. “No. I want to see Kelsey before the transplant. I want her to know …”
“What?”
“That I had nothing to do with sloughing her off.”
Rick dropped his gaze. “Morgan.” Disagreement, obvious in his tone, but he didn’t argue. They both knew his mind was made up.
Rick finally looked up. “Are you leaving in the morning?”
“Right now.”
“Driving through the night?”
Morgan shrugged. “It’ll be easier than sleeping. I will, however, make my apology to Stan. He deserves that much. And say good-bye to Todd.”
Rick nodded, then stretched. “Thanks for fetching Marta. That’ll help a lot. I know it cost you.”
Morgan smiled. “And you’re dying to know how much.”
“I’ll get it out of Marta. Or Noelle will.”
Morgan shook his head. “We made a pact. If you break her, it’ll be an international incident.”
Rick laughed softly. “Have it your way. I’m just glad she’s here.”
J
ill sat with Shelly and Brett around the table in her kitchen nook, determined not to give the suffocating depression a fresh foothold.
She thought again about her tutoring session with Joey that morning.
It helped to focus on the kids. Her primary purpose through the extended school year was to keep them interacting and maintain their base-level skills. She didn’t introduce anything new, just played with what they’d learned through the regular school year. She did, however, encourage development in personal areas like correct conversational responses and self-control.
Joey’s mother desperately wanted him to get potty trained and insisted that at nine, he could learn it if he wanted to. Jill had explained again that his brain didn’t receive that signal as something he could process and act on, that it was common with autism. He might never connect a sensation to that behavior. But she understood the frustration, and at some level, so did he. He’d been particularly disruptive and agitated that morning.
She sighed and started picking up the cards Brett had dealt her. He was out of his uniform, wearing a Beauview PD T-shirt and sweats. He tossed a handful of M&Ms into his mouth. Hearts was Shelly’s favorite game, so they sat now and arranged their final read-’em-and-weep hand. Jill held enough stinkers to consider shooting the moon.
They’d invited Dan, but he had plans, so they played three handed, which meant more cards and a kitty to the taker of the first dirty trick. Jill wondered what Dan’s plans were, or if he meant to avoid their foursomes altogether after the last encounter. At this point so would she.
The phone rang, and the machine took it immediately, since she’d been disinclined to answer most of her calls.
“Hello, Jill. This is Cinda.”
Jill rushed up and grabbed it, leaving her cards and her friends waiting. “Hi, Cinda.” She leaned on the counter and forced herself to calm. Cinda had promised to keep her informed, but if it was more bad news …
“Jill, Morgan’s cross match was negative, no reaction between donor and recipient. They’re compatible.”
Jill dropped her head back, eyes closed.
Oh, thank you, Lord
.
“I’m calling from New Haven. They’ve admitted Kelsey for the pretransplant conditioning.”
A rush of painful joy seized her. It was happening! Morgan matched.
Forgive my unbelief!
“Cinda, that’s wonderful.”
“I’m so grateful to you.”
“Don’t even say that. What happens now?”
“Her protocol requires myeloablative therapy, total immune destruction, because her remission was so difficult to achieve and the cancer is tenacious. There’s a tremendous risk of infection and so many factors. But we’re hopeful.” Cinda sounded weary, as well.
“How’s Kelsey?”
“Excited. Very weak.”
Jill shook off the sudden dread. “I know this will work. Is Morgan—does Morgan know what to do?”
“The center is in communication with him. He gave the final consent and passed the physical exam that accompanied his counseling. Once Kelsey is ready, they’ll do the transplant.”
Oh, Morgan
. She tried not to envy him.
“Keep praying.”
“Of course.” Only she hadn’t. She’d let a few innocent words drive her faith away. What right had she to question God’s wisdom? If He judged her unworthy, who was she to argue? Twice the Lord had found her unacceptable. Yet now He received Morgan?
Stop it! He was God.
He could choose as He liked. This wasn’t about her
.
“Yes, I’ll pray, Cinda.”
“Add one or two for finances. I don’t know how we’ll pay for everything. We’ve already mortgaged the house and … well, just include that in your prayers. I couldn’t bear to refuse Kelsey a treatment simply because we couldn’t pay.”
Jill’s heart thumped. “No, of course not. That’s an important prayer.”
Cinda sighed. “It doesn’t sound right to worry about money. I know the Lord will provide.”
“It’s still important to ask.” Jill took a chance. “Give Kelsey my love.”
“She sends you hers.”
Jill gripped the receiver. Was that just a platitude, or had Kelsey actually said it? She pressed her free hand against the sob rising in her chest. The sweet balm of the possibility chased away the shadows. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” She rolled her lips in tightly as tears threatened. “And how things go.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” She hung up and drew a deep breath, then turned to Shelly and Brett. “The transplant’s on. Morgan matched.”
They both congratulated her and asked more questions than she could answer. Morgan would have the answers. Doubtless he’d been given all the details he’d need in order to go forward, to help their daughter, to save her life. Jill played the last hand without thinking and ended up with all but two of the points, but she didn’t care.
Kelsey was going to be all right. After Shelly and Brett went home, she took out her Bible and read the Psalms.
Praise be to the Lord, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped. My heart leaps for joy and I will give thanks to him in song
. Peace filled her. She felt closer to His love than she ever had. Sweet consolation. Had she ever known it so completely before?
She went to bed, knowing she would sleep better than she had been. She dropped off right away, but there was pain, tight wrenching pain that seized her belly from the sides and across her lower back, then funneled up the front in mounting intensity. Push. She had to push. Sweat ran into her eyes and her mouth was arid. Push! She cried out and someone told her not to. Direct the pain, make it work for you.
Her belly seized, a swollen mound, glistening with sweat. Push! Without her will, her belly pushed. The baby emerged, streaked and creamy, into hands that glowed with golden light. Too bright. The hands were too bright.
Those hands took the baby from her womb into their grasp, stilling the cries and jerking limbs. Jill reached, but both baby and hands were gone. She woke, gasping, and stared around her in the darkness as though she might find them there. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her racing heart. She’d dreamed of Kelsey’s birth before, but never like that.
She rubbed a hand over her eyes and settled back down, the image of those glowing hands still in her mind.
Kelsey lay in the bed at the Yale New Haven Treatment Center, her second night in that medical center. Dad had gone to grab them some cafeteria food and Mom to call Jill. Mom didn’t seem to mind talking to Jill. She was part of it all. She’d made it happen. No one else would have known to find Morgan.
Morgan
.
Kelsey touched the Hickman catheter in her chest, used to administer the chemotherapy that had achieved her remission and would receive the new doses to wipe out her immune system. After radiation and the killing drugs, it would be the channel to receive the bone marrow from her father, her biological father. Why did she keep thinking about him? What was he like; how did he look? Wasn’t it normal to wonder?
She had to be careful, though. Mom and Dad were touchy about it. Didn’t they know her wondering didn’t change her love for them. She just wanted to understand. Had he cared about Jill? About her?. Did he do this transplant out of guilt, or did he really want to help?.
Why would he want to see her? She was ugly, bald, pale, and bruised. Who would want to see her? Who would ever look at her and think she was anything but a cancer patient? Certainly no boy. No man would want to marry her someday. But her bio-dad? Would he look away, embarrassed by her?
Jill hadn’t, but that was different. Jill was … a mom. No, that presupposed that dads were less accepting, and she knew that wasn’t true. Kelsey shook her head. She wasn’t sure why she doubted Morgan. Maybe because he hadn’t married Jill, hadn’t taken care of her when she needed it. Jill said it was her parents’ fault, but Kelsey wasn’t sure she believed that. Anyway, she couldn’t risk it. Jill worked with kids who had problems. She was used to it. Morgan wouldn’t be. No, the one-year rule of no contact was a good idea. At this point he might take one look and decide to keep his marrow to himself.
If she was still alive in a year, maybe then. When she had hair. Waves of nausea rose inside from the first treatment she’d had that day. And it would only get worse. Was it even worth it? She closed her eyes and pictured her army of dispirited angels looking to her for their strength.
“I don’t have any,” she said to the darkness, then realized others were fighting for her, as well. The nurse who’d been so funny earlier, the oncologist and all the staff. Even her bio-dad, who was scheduled for the marrow harvest. She couldn’t give up now. Everyone expected her to fight, to stay positive, to be hopeful, the giver of hope on her Web page, the sharer of Jesus’ love. But it was so hard.
She thought for a minute, then turned on the tiny reading lamp beside her bed and opened her laptop. Instead of going to the Web page, she opened e-mail. She had some new messages from her friends, but she clicked “Write” instead. Maybe she shouldn’t do this, but there was one person who had promised to be honest. Maybe she could be honest back, too.
Hi, Jill. I hope you don’t mind that I got your e-mail address off the card you gave Mom. It’s late here; I guess it is there, too. Maybe you won’t
get this until tomorrow, but I wanted to talk, to tell you …
Kelsey paused. No, this was her chance to say what she couldn’t say out loud, couldn’t tell Mom and Dad, who loved her too much.
I wanted to tell you I’m scared. I know you’ll understand, cuz you must have been, too. When you had me. Did it hurt very much? Who was with you? Did you get to see me?
She hadn’t intended to ask about that, but it took her mind off the rest.
What was it like when I was inside you? Did you hate me very much? Were you sad I was there?
She almost erased that part, but no. This was her place to be honest, to write whatever she wanted. If Jill didn’t answer, she’d understand. It still helped to write it, just to get the thoughts out.
I’m really sick right now. All I think about is throwing up. Were you sick with me? Then you know how I feel. Not like I have the flu and will get better in the morning. It goes on and on. I try not to show it because Mom and Dad get
so sad. It hurts them when I hurt. They feel it, too. I was hoping I could just tell you about it sometimes.
I have this army inside me, fighting to make me well. But when I feel like this, it’s hard to believe that will ever happen. My roommate is scared
because her cancer went into her brain. I don’t think I could stand that. I feel selfish for dreading the cells in my spinal cord. But soon they’ll be wiped out, and then Morgan’s marrow will start making me well. I wish you could tell me more about him. I keep wondering. Especially now since I might never turn eighteen. That’s when Mom said I could make a decision on finding him or not. I think I might die without seeing him
.
Again Kelsey paused.
I shouldn’t say that, I guess. It discourages the angels inside. I should explain that. I imagine the chemo and radiation and my own good cells are an angel army fighting the bad demon leukemia cells. When I get discouraged, my army falls back, the others start to win. Prayer helps. When I ask Jesus, He sends new troops. I should ask Jesus now because I really, really feel sick. Thanks for listening. Bye now. Kelsey
She closed her eyes and prayed,
Jesus, help me,
then gathered her will and told the angel host to go kick butt, a phrase Mom would not approve of but which seemed somehow completely appropriate. And she went on to imagine them doing just that—bright, glowing feet booting the black demon host right out of her body.
Morgan walked up to the cabin door and knocked. The sky spread out above him in blazing color, a gaudy display that would fade soon, and then show off again in starlit splendor, but he’d made his decision and meant to act on it. His stomach was full of Marta’s great meal, and he really could drive through the night better than he’d be able to sleep, now that his mind was made up.
Stan opened the door but didn’t speak.
“I need to apologize, Stan. I put you in a bad spot.”
The corners of Stan’s mouth rose slightly. “I’m sure that wasn’t your intention.”
“Doesn’t clear it up for you, though.”
He shrugged. “I’ll pray for wisdom.”
Meanwhile Todd might blow the place up. “May I talk to Todd a moment? Is he up?”
Stan turned. “Todd, Morgan wants you.”
Todd came from the back bedroom with a T-shirt in his hand and wearing sweats hung low enough to show half his boxers. “Yeah?” He looked sullen and angry.
“Can we talk a minute?”
Todd glared at Stan, but the other man didn’t leave. Probably wise.
Morgan rested a shoulder on the doorjamb. He didn’t really care if Stan was included. “Two things. I didn’t use good judgment in making you that offer. Learning to read better would be a good choice, but that’s between you and Stan. I’ll leave the TV at the big house. He can determine if you should watch it sometimes.”