The Still of Night (54 page)

Fury surged. “No, you didn’t. I said I wanted to talk.”

“You said chat. A little get-together that I thought might be just the chance to get to know Glen a little.” Could Mom really believe the fantasy world she lived in, where daughters never disappointed?

Jill moistened her lips. Oh, how she wanted to tell them everything right in front of Glen. But of course she wouldn’t. She followed her mother to the back patio, where Dad sat with a pleasant-faced man, a little thin and needing some time in the sun, but nice looking nonetheless.

“Glen, this is our daughter, Jill. She’s just had her hair cut, so it’s different from the pictures.”

They’d shown him her pictures? But, then, they were sprinkled around the house. “Hi, Glen.” Jill held out her hand.

He stood and took it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jill. Your parents have talked a lot about you, the times they’ve had me over lately.”

“I’m sorry about your wife. It must be very hard to lose someone you love.” As she had lost Kelsey and now feared for her life.

“Thank you. It is. But it’s been two years, and time does ease the sting.”

So you’re ready and willing to move on
.

“Have a seat, Jill. I’m just finishing in the kitchen,” her mom said.

“Oh, I’ll help you, then.” She didn’t leave time for argument but led the way back inside.

Her mother’s face sharpened. “I know you didn’t expect this.”

“Didn’t expect it? I said no.” Could the fact that she’d refused even enter her mother’s mind?

“Oh, Jill, just give him a chance.” Her mother’s face was so piteously hopeful.

“Don’t worry, Mother. I can be polite.”

Mom went to the oven and took out a roast. “I’ll let your father carve this. The potatoes are in the warming oven. They can be put on the table.”

Jill did as she was told, then spent the evening under Dad’s searching gaze making small talk, mostly about her work with the kids at school, which Mom elevated to near Mother Teresa’s efforts in India.

Glen smiled. “It does take a special person to work with challenged kids. I’m challenged enough with my own.” Then he told a couple humorous stories about his eleven-and thirteen-year-old boys.

He did seem like a nice man and hardly looked forty-three. After dinner and a reasonable time over coffee, which Jill did not drink—she would be sleepless enough—he walked her out to her car. “I really enjoyed meeting you, Jill.”

She knew what was coming.

“Would it be all right if I called you sometime?”

She took her keys from her purse. “I don’t suppose Mom told you I’m not really dating right now.”

“Me either. But …”

“And I have some things that I really need to focus on.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, maybe I’ll see you again sometime. Do you go to church?”

“The big one on the corner of Elm.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard the pastor a few times.”

“We have three now.”

He smiled. “Guess I’m more of a small-church guy.”

Where everyone knew everything. She returned his smile. “Well, it was nice meeting you, too, Glen.” She pulled open her door and slid in. “Good night.”

No one could say she hadn’t tried. Mom had probably panicked when Jill mentioned she wanted to talk. Maybe specters of that first horrible revelation had filled her mind, and Glen was the only defense she had. Maybe it was kinder after all to keep them in the dark. The tension she’d held in check all evening washed away, leaving a sense of failure. But she could not be blamed. Pat and Deborah and Gina had meant well with their encouragement, but they did not know how it was. Nothing penetrated Mom’s code of silence.

Kelsey lay as though run over by a tank, her skin yellow and blistering. Every breath was work, her lungs laboring under the fluid pressing her down. Dr. McGraine’s face was blurred as he spoke to her and her parents. “The GVHD has escalated to severe. Her bilirubin and alkaline phosphatase indicate liver damage, possibly treatable by increased levels of Prednisone and cyclosporine, but that is in turn toxic to the kidneys, which are already failing.”

He looked at Kelsey, and she wondered if she should not have insisted on receiving all the medical updates with her parents. “I wish I had better news for you, Kelsey. It’s a balancing act. One thing that helps here …” He held up his left hand. “Hurts here.” He raised his right. “We can attack, but that opens new battles.”

She nodded. “So there’s nothing you can do?”

He shook his head. “I’m not saying that. We will try everything available to us. I just want all of you to understand what we’re up against.” He turned to her parents, who were holding each other at the side of the room. “I don’t recommend raising the drug levels because the pressure on her lungs and heart is already extreme and dialysis can only do so much for the kidneys. But that means in addition to the veno-occlusive disease, the GVHD will probably increase. There may be permanent damage to the liver especially, and the stomach and other soft tissues.” Back to Kelsey. “It could burn out within days or continue to escalate.”

“Burn out” is exactly how it felt, her skin peeling off, her mouth cracked and bleeding, her belly swollen to twice its size. She drew a slow thick breath. No one had been allowed in except the medical staff and her parents. Her energy was so low she hardly responded to them.

“The best news we have is lack of infection. You’re handling that like a pro, Kelsey.” He smiled.

She tried to smile back but only shut her eyes. When he left the room, arms closed around her. Not Mom’s and Dad’s—they knew it hurt too much. But arms so soft and strong and embracing they could only be her Lord’s.
It’s too much, Jesus. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t make it good
.

No smile on His face this time but tears in His eyes. The shortest verse in the Bible.
Jesus wept
. She didn’t want Him to cry for her.
It’s okay. I’ll try. If you help me
.

Jill turned off the computer. No message from Kelsey. Nothing since the brief request for a photograph, which Jill had sent immediately. She tried not to read more into it than the fact Kelsey probably didn’t feel well and had her Web page to keep up with and her family and friends. Maybe she no longer needed to gripe. Maybe it was all going so well she could only rejoice. And that part she did easily enough with Cinda. The thought encouraged Jill enough to face her day.

Normally the preliminary meetings for the upcoming school year had her focused and energized. This year the tension and uncertainty almost spoiled the anticipation of working once again with her kids. Or maybe her reality had expanded, her focus no longer limited to that small part of her life. Her past had converged with her present, and her future was no longer the day-to-day existence she’d managed before.

As long as she focused on Kelsey healing and Morgan recovering and her own—

The phone rang, and she crossed to answer it. “Hello?”

“Jill, this is Cinda.”

Her heart accelerated. “Cinda. Are you home? How is Kelsey?”

The pause seized Jill’s belly and twisted. Cinda’s voice sounded flat. “No, we’re not home, Jill. Kelsey’s not doing well.”

Jill gripped the counter for support. “Did she reject the marrow?”

“No. Her immune system can’t reject anything. It’s the opposite. GVHD.”

GVHD
. Jill had read about it, graft-versus-host disease, Morgan’s marrow identifying Kelsey’s body as foreign and attacking. “They expected that, didn’t they? It was part of it, I thought. An anti-tumor effect and …”

“It’s life threatening, Jill. They’re not sure they can control it. And there are other complications. Liver and kidney failure. She’s very weak. But she wanted me to call and ask for your prayers.”

No
. Jill slid down the kitchen wall. It wasn’t possible. Morgan’s marrow was supposed to heal her. “Can you give me details so I can address them in prayer?” How could she sound so calm?

“She has acute stomach and intestinal distress, her skin is blistered and sloughing off, extra fluid all over. Also her vision is impaired, and the drugs cause confusion. But the worst is the damage to her vital organs. Her stomach is hemorrhaging. Pray—” Cinda’s voice broke. “Pray for a miracle.”

Jill sat stunned, unable to fathom so many things wrong with her daughter. She’d imagined, pictured her healing, growing strong, getting well. She pressed a palm to her heart where the ache grew. “Thank you for calling, Cinda. Would it be too much trouble to continue to let me know how she’s doing?”

“I’ll try.”

Jill hung up the phone and gave in to sobs. Everything else paled. It couldn’t be happening, but Cinda’s voice left no doubt.
Lord, why?
She loves you so. How could you do this?
She didn’t care that she was questioning God again. Where was the reason in it? If Kelsey’s faith counted for nothing, then Shelly was right.

With trembling fingers, she touched the numbers on the phone, got his voice mail. “Morgan, this is Jill. Please call me.”

Then she cried until her stomach hurt, her eyes ached, and her throat burned. But none of it was close to what Kelsey suffered. Kelsey wanted prayer, but how could she? Her spirit was a sieve and faith drained through it like water.
God, forgive me
. She had to pray, whether she believed or not.

“Jesus, Kelsey loves you. She trusts you. She knows you. You worked miracles before. You can do it now. Please … please …”

She didn’t care that the meetings had started at school. She stayed on her knees and begged. She had given up her daughter once; she was not ready to do it again.
You can’t have her yet. She has too much
life to live
. “How can you want her now after what I went through to bring her into the world?” It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But God was sovereign.

No. She shook her head. She would not accept this. She would batter His door until He heard and answered. She might be helpless, but she would not give up.

Morgan picked up the phone and dialed Jill. The sound of her voice on the message sent ice through his veins. “Jill, it’s Morgan.”

She said nothing, just broke down and sobbed.

Worse than he’d expected. Something horrible had happened. Kelsey?

He tried to speak, couldn’t, then tried again. “Jill, what’s wrong?”

“She’s so sick, Morgan. So many things wrong. Acute GVHD. I’ve prayed and prayed but …”

GVHD. His marrow attacking Kelsey’s system. They had counseled him extensively on not taking the blame for the all-but-inevitable occurrence. Especially with a mismatched transplant. The question was not whether it would occur but how bad it would be.

Jill sniffed. “Cinda called this morning and said liver and kidney failure, soft tissue damage, her skin is peeling off. Kelsey wants our prayers. But, Morgan, I can’t believe. I’m so angry and I feel so betrayed. How could God do this?”

The cold spread to his spine. He knew only too well. It was his marrow they’d had the audacity to use. He pressed a hand to his face, thankful only that he’d seen Todd to the airport that morning, which was where he had been when Jill called. “Are you home?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone with you?”

She hesitated, then, “I can’t face anyone. If I tell Shelly what I really feel, she’ll know what a lie my faith has been.”

Morgan swallowed. “This isn’t your fault, Jill.”

“I want to scream and kick and break something.”

“Go ahead.”

Instead she started to cry again. Did she have any idea how helpless that made him? “Hang in there.” He hung up. With luck he could find a seat on something heading east. Luck and lots of money.

By the time he arrived at her door, he was not sure she was home. Maybe she had gone to Shelly after all, or to Dan. But then the door opened. Her face was dry but bore the streaks and swelling of too many tears shed during the hours since they’d talked. She stared up with a look of astonishment and dismay, then burst once again into tears.

Remembering her neighbor, he stepped inside before pulling her to his chest, then held her. At least this time there wasn’t half the country between them. Jill was not a crier, but he supposed too many years of held-back tears left her raw now. He pressed his face to her head and cupped the back of her neck.

After a while she wiped her tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

“How quickly can you pack?”

“What do you mean?” She looked up.

“We’re going to Connecticut.”

She searched his face, incredulous. “Morgan, we can’t just show up. They won’t let us in.”

“Just get your things.”

She shook her head. “They didn’t ask us to come. Cinda and Roger have enough to deal with, without us trying to force—”

“We’re not forcing anything.”

She caught his forearm. “I know you, Morgan. You won’t stop until you accomplish what you went for.”

He gave her a careless smile. “I’m very diplomatic.”

“But—”

“She’s our daughter, too. If she’s in a fight for her life, I want to be there.” Needed to be. He cupped her face. “And I know you do, too.”

She pressed her hands to his chest. “I don’t know if I can.” Pain passed over her features. “Maybe God was right, that I could never have handled what was ahead for Kelsey. What if He gave her to Cinda and Roger to …” She shook her head. “To undo it?”

Undo it? He tipped her face up and studied it. He’d never seen her so fatalistic and hopeless. That was his role, wasn’t it?

She sagged under his hold. “What if we did it to her?”

He gripped her shoulders. “Did what?” His voice was raw.

“Caused her illness, made it happen.”

The same thing had haunted him since Jill came to him with the news, but had he faced it, voiced it, given it substance? “Genetic predisposition?”

She looked up. “Or spiritual.”

Way too close to the mark.

“What if we set it all in motion? Like David and Bathsheba. They sinned, but did God strike them?” The tendons in her neck were ropes. “Their baby died, Morgan. And Pharaoh’s son, and all the firstborn.” Her chest rose and fell with hard breaths. “Not by any fault of theirs but by the sins of their parents.”