On Wings of Love (8 page)

“Hannah, do you have a moment?” Noah motioned for her to follow him into the office he shared with Brad.

“Is there something wrong?” The office manager’s face paled further, but she trudged behind him. Noah wondered how she managed to hold herself together as he sat down. One glance at her trembling hands pulling at a loose thread on her sweater told him she just barely did.

“No. Not really. Please have a seat.”

Jittery, like one of his new student pilots, Hannah took a seat in one of the leather chairs across from him. His fingers drummed the oak surface of his cluttered desk. With no easy way to approach the subject, he decided to be blunt. “How long have you been sick?”

Hannah hung her head as her fingers mangled the tissue she held. “How do you know?”

“Your doctor’s office called during lunch. I found the paperwork as I was rummaging around for paper to write you a note.” Noah rubbed his forehead and leaned forward. The chair squeaked in disapproval.

She lifted her chin and leveled her gaze on him. “It’s true. So what happens now? Are you going to fire me?”

A stunned Noah stared into the depths of Hannah’s green eyes. Did he really present that image to the world? Did Hannah honestly think this would make a difference in their working relationship?

“No, Hannah. I’m not going to fire you. You’re too valuable. I just want to know what’s going on. How can Brad, Seth and I help you through this?”

Tears crested her lower lashes, and she reached over to pull another tissue from the box on his desk. “I’m not sure
you can unless you’ve got a spare kidney lying around. I’ve got polycystic kidney disease.”

Noah nodded for her to continue.

“It’s genetic. I’ve known about it since I was old enough to understand. It’s only gotten worse these past few years.”

“For a while I thought you were pregnant.”

A tiny smile curved her lips. “That would be simpler, wouldn’t it? No, the cysts are huge. The doctor thinks my kidneys weigh about ten pounds each.”

Noah didn’t like the sound of that. “So you’re close to the end stage. Does your son have it, too?”

“Yes, and no. Dylan tested negative. The doctor’s office called to set up my surgery. They want to take my kidneys out next week.” A fresh batch of tears spilled. “I have two options. Dialysis or transplantation. But I don’t want to be tied to a machine for the rest of my life. I’ve been on the waiting list for two years though, and nothing’s come available. The doctors can’t wait any longer. Phoenix is a terrible place to be on a waiting list. I’ve been told my options are better in Florida because there are more donors there, but I won’t uproot my son. He’s been through too much as it is.”

“I’m sorry.” Stepping around his desk in a daze, Noah moved next to Hannah and awkwardly patted her back. He never knew what to say at times like this and sorry seemed pretty lame. He’d heard it too often after Michelle and Jeremy died to put much stock in it. “If you need me to do anything for you, just ask.”

His mind had a hard time trying to wrap around the concept of what Hannah needed. He’d only seen one side of the process. But now, by some ugly twist of karma, he was about to find out about the other.

“Really?” Hannah grasped his hand. Her pale skin
blended in with the white of the walls behind her. “I do need you to do something for me then.”

“What is it?”

“Pray for me? And if anything happens to me, I want you and Brad to take care of Dylan.”

Pain radiated from Noah’s heart. Hannah had no idea what she was asking. Not that it was her fault. His office manager didn’t know about Jeremy or that he hadn’t prayed since his death. Noah squeezed her hand back. “Where is he going to stay while you’re in the hospital?”

“With a friend. Their number is on the sticky note on my computer. But that’s only a temporary solution.”

“What about his father?” Stupid question. If the man who fathered Dylan had any sense, he’d be an important part of the young boy’s life.

Hannah hiccoughed. “He doesn’t want anything to do with his son.”

Noah closed his eyes briefly. If something happened to Hannah and she had no one to look after Dylan, the boy would either go to his father if they could find him or into foster care. Neither option was very appealing for the small, sensitive boy Noah had met those few times. He wouldn’t wish that scenario on anyone.

He squeezed her hand again as if he could force the illness from her body.

“Look, Hannah. I’m sure nothing is going to happen to you. But if it makes you feel better, I’d be happy to take care of him. I’m sure Brad would, too. Now go home and start your weekend early. Rest and psych yourself up for surgery.”

“Thank you. I don’t know where else to turn.” Another tear slid down Hannah’s cheek after she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so scared.”

I’m scared, too.
But Noah knew better than to vocalize his thoughts. He’d read the stack of information Hannah had hidden in her desk. He knew without a transplant that her only other option was dialysis for the rest of her life, and she’d just said she didn’t want that. So that left one option.

A transplant.

From a donor.

How could the God he’d forsaken be so cruel to take another young life? A single mother with a child?

Thankfully, Hannah had returned to her desk before she saw the confusion he knew had to be in his eyes. Long after her departure, he paced the tiled floor, stopping occasionally to stare at the picture of his plane on the wall. The sun shifted, its rays streaming in through the slated blinds, catching the dust particles in a macabre dance on their way to the floor. At the side of Noah’s desk, Houston snored as his foot twitched.

A transplant. Noah should go to Ruth. He knew she’d help him understand the process. She’d already offered. His neck muscles bunched, and he pounded his fists against the wall waking his dog. A guttural cry burst through his lips. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Hannah needed someone to die so she could live.

Someone like that boy on that first flight with Ruth.

Or Jeremy.

He turned around and slid down the wall. An agitated Houston licked his hand. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

“C
ome on, boy. Let’s get out of here and go to the park. I’ll even let you chase a duck or two.” Noah climbed into the driver’s seat late Saturday morning and started the truck. He couldn’t stay confined inside the walls of his condo anymore. Everywhere he turned, memories of Jeremy hovered. So did the image of Ruth trying to reach out to him.

A tiredness crept over him, courtesy of the sleepless night, but Noah knew it was from more than that as he pulled out of the condo complex. It was the three years of numbness, anger and guilt that wore his emotions thin.

At the park in central Scottsdale, Noah leashed Houston and pulled out a well-used tennis ball from underneath the passenger seat. Then he jumped down after his dog, the warm pavement hard underneath his feet. Inhaling the scent of the city and the aroma of grilling meat, they made their way to the grass lawn. Towering palm trees lined the parking lot while Palo Verde and eucalyptus trees created shade over picnic tables and benches.

Kids screamed and ran around and over the huge jungle
gym play area and swings as he walked past. Mothers, both with and without strollers, stood guard over their children as they talked about whatever women talked about these days. Michelle used to bring Jeremy to a smaller park closer to their home. Sometimes Noah would join them. Most of the time not. He’d been gone a lot during his son’s youth and spent the rest of his time fixing up their old home. Sorrow gripped him again.

Noah finally settled himself under an old ironwood tree as far away from the play area and the section blocked off for the half dozen or so kids’ soccer games. He unleashed Houston in the designated dog area. To his right, just past the slight crest of a small hill, a swollen man-made lake glistened in the sun while ducks preened themselves on the grassy shores or paddled around in the water.

He threw the small ball to Houston in the opposite direction to keep the dog’s attention from the wildlife. Noah really didn’t have any intention of letting Houston chase the ducks, regardless of what he’d said earlier. The poor ducks had enough trouble with the little kids teasing them with breadcrumbs and chasing them around.

Houston ran back to him, his tail wagging, his entire body shaking in anticipation as he dropped the soggy ball at Noah’s feet. With a grimace, Noah picked it up again and threw it a little farther this time, his dog bounding after it at top speed.

A family with a toddler and a baby in a stroller passed by, the little boy squealing in delight at Houston’s antics of playing keep-away with the ball. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Houston barked. The dog nudged the ball toward him, but when Noah bent to retrieve it, Houston grabbed it with his mouth.

The boy approached, holding out his pudgy hands. Noah judged him to be about the same age as Jeremy was when they welcomed Houston into the family. Despite the warm sunshine and beautiful fall day, everything seemed to be reminding him of his son these days. Since Ruth, that job of hers and the contract came into his life. Somehow, the pain right now didn’t seem as bad as it had been this morning. Or maybe he was just kidding himself.

“Looks like we’ve got a visitor, Houston.” Noah motioned the boy over, nodding to his parents that it was okay. “He’s friendly. Come say ‘hi.’”

“Ball.” The boy made a beeline for the wet tennis ball. After picking it up, he looked up at Noah with wide brown eyes. “Ball?”

Houston barked again and sniffed at the boy’s hand, his wagging tail creating a breeze over Noah’s bare arm.

“Sure you can throw him the ball.” Noah smiled.

With Houston occupied, he sat back and tried to relax against the smooth bark of the tree. His mind refused to unwind. Ruth’s anguished face hovered behind his eyelids, unwelcome and welcome at the same time. He hadn’t really meant to hurt her with his words the other day. He had no excuse to allow the three years of bitterness and disappointment to overrule his professionalism. Everyone had a job to do. Even the tax auditor.

A cold nose nudged him underneath his hand and the wet ball dropped onto his lap. Noah noticed the little boy and his family’s attention had moved to the ducks at the lake. But that wasn’t what held his interest by the edge of the water.

“Look who’s feeding the ducks, Houston. Hannah and Dylan.” His office manager and her son sat on a colorful blue, white and green Mexican blanket by the bank, throwing breadcrumbs into the water. Houston whimpered
and wriggled his tiny body in anticipation of another throw.

Noah obliged. Seeing Hannah and her son here threw him off guard. He knew he should walk over and say “hi,” but he didn’t want to intrude on their time together. The way they sat and talked reminded him that he and Jeremy used to do the same thing when Noah was home. Sometimes Michelle would join them, and the three of them would have a picnic on the postage-stamp grass area of their backyard, or climb a tree or play a quick game of croquet.

The special times. Things to be savored. Enjoyed. Like Hannah was doing. Creating memories for Dylan to carry with him his entire life, no matter what the outcome of Hannah’s surgery next week.

Fisting his hands, Noah bit down on his lip to keep his emotions in check. Hannah would be okay. She had to be. She needed to live. She needed a second chance.

Jeremy hadn’t been given one, but according to those unopened letters Noah received from the donor network, the four people who received Jeremy’s organs had. By signing those papers, he’d created the miracle other families needed. If Ruth told him the truth, the doctors had done all they could to save his son.

A cleansing tear dropped onto his hand. Jeremy’s life had even more meaning in death. And as long as Noah remembered Jeremy’s organs helped others to live, his son still lived.

Noah bowed his head. He hadn’t done this in years. He felt the need to do so now, but words wouldn’t come. He didn’t know what to say, how to reach out. He wasn’t ready to talk to God again. He wasn’t quite ready to forgive yet. But he was ready to start trying.

Present and car keys in hand Saturday afternoon, Ruth bumped into something solid and masculine on her way out her front door.

“Oh, sorry.” Confused, she gazed up. Who would be standing on the other side of her front door without knocking? Her heart wedged itself in her throat, constricting her ability to breathe. “Noah? Why are you here?”

A sad, yet hesitant expression crossed his face. “I came to make sure you made it home with your rental car and to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”

“Oh.” Ruth knew better than to get her hopes up. She sensed Noah still had a lot of things to sort out, but unless he asked, she’d remain silent. “Apology accepted.”

In his arms, Houston barked and tried to free himself of Noah’s grasp. Noah’s dog would make the kids at the hospital laugh with his antics. Ruth petted him on the head as she heard the neighbor’s cat growl from underneath the bush. She really wished that beast would take up residence somewhere else. “It’s good to see you again, too, buddy.”

“I also came by to talk to you.” Disappointment flared in his eyes. “But I see you’re ready to go somewhere.”

Noah’s hesitation changed her ability to remain unaffected by his charm. Ruth glanced at her watch. Her stomach flopped worse than if she’d just gotten off a roller coaster. “I’m on my way to a birthday party, but I still have a few minutes. Why don’t you come inside for a moment?”

“I don’t want to keep you.”

Ruth put a hand on his arm to stop him from leaving. “No. I’m here for you, Noah. As a friend. And friends don’t let others suffer without trying to help. Please come inside. I can be a little late. The kids are used to my crazy schedule.”

“Kids?” Noah followed her inside, Houston leading the way.

She motioned for Noah to sit on her couch while Houston took off to investigate the rest of her house. She took the seat opposite the coffee table on the matching oversized toffee-colored love seat, glad she’d had the foresight to straighten the room after she’d wrapped her gift. “Not my own kids. I’m a volunteer over at the Children’s Center in the hospital. It’s Marissa’s birthday today, and we’re throwing her a party.”

“It’s not right that kids have to spend their birthday in a hospital.”

To keep her hands busy, Ruth reached in her knitting basket and pulled out her really bad scarf. It looked no better than her other knitting project she kept in her duffel bag for the plane rides, but the click of the needles brought her a measure of comfort.

“There’s a lot of things that aren’t right or fair. But I try to make things better for those less fortunate. I love making those kids happy. Too bad I can’t say I love this.” She held up the uneven pink and purple long rectangular scarf.

“My mom’s taken up knitting, too. I hate to admit it, but she’s not much better than you. Please tell me you’re not actually going to make someone wear that thing?”

Ruth grinned at Noah. There was no way she’d send this monstrosity to her niece back in Wisconsin. She’d probably unravel it and start over again. “Sure. Come here, Houston. Here boy.”

Houston’s long nails clicked against the tile floor when he skittered to a stop. Ruth wound the scarf, needles and all, around his neck. “There. I think he likes it.”

Houston’s ears perked up and his tongue hung from his
panting mouth as his attention bobbed between them. Noah’s chuckle joined hers. “Please take it off.”

“I know. It’s really awful. So how many awful things did your mom make you?”

Noah stilled for a moment, his expression growing somber. Ruth had crossed some invisible line, and she didn’t know how to take her words back even if she knew what it was.

“Not me. Jeremy.”

Silence lingered between them as Ruth unwound the scarf from Houston’s neck and set it back in the basket. This was the first time Noah had mentioned Jeremy. She could feel Noah’s pain as if it were her own. The agony of burying a child could bring even the proudest man or woman to their knees. Her parents had managed to keep things together because of their faith, and they had other children who needed them. Noah had no one. He also didn’t have any faith, and until he was willing to accept Him into his life, things wouldn’t change.

Sunlight filtered in through the open blinds and cast striped shadows across the distressed wood coffee table. On instinct, Ruth moved to sit next to Noah. She wound her arm through his and briefly rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your wife and son.”

A hesitant spark troubled Noah’s gaze. “Michelle was pregnant when she died.”

His mouth opened and then closed. He still needed to talk about whatever bothered him, but his pride stood in the way. What would it take for him to open up so she could help him?

“I’m very sorry about that, too.” Oh, Noah. He’d lost even more than she’d realized. Her voice softened and she stared up at Noah, willing him to speak what was on his
mind. He needed to let go of the dark cloud hovering over him and talk more about his wife and son. But only when he was ready. His face filled her vision. Forget the friendship. In that instant, Ruth found herself falling in love. “I suspect you didn’t come back here to talk about our childhoods. What
did
you want to talk about, Noah?”

Noah stood, dislodging a disgruntled Houston. “It can wait. I’m sure you have to go.”

Ruth glanced at her watch again, surprised at how much time Noah’s visit had eaten. And yet, nothing had been resolved. Noah looked more troubled than when he’d walked through her front door. “It can’t wait. Come with me today. The kids will love Houston, and when you’re ready, we’ll take a break in the cafeteria and talk there.”

“Hi, Marissa. Happy birthday, honey.” Ruth enfolded the tiny girl in her arms as soon as Ruth entered the playroom.

Within seconds, the group of kids swallowed Ruth in their midst, leaving Noah with an excited Houston squirming in his arms standing on the fringes. He wasn’t so sure about this. Agreeing to come to the birthday party at the hospital was one thing, but he wasn’t prepared to deal with the memories it brought to the surface. His gaze skimmed the brightly painted park scene on the walls as his feet planted themselves on the dark green carpet. While the room contrasted against the stark white one where his son had died, the underlying smell of death and antiseptic remained.

He tightened his grip on Houston. Definitely not a good idea.

“Miss Ruthie, you made it.” The olive-skinned girl grinned and threw her arms around Ruth’s neck. “I knew you would. I just knew it.”

Noah watched Ruth settle herself on her knees in the
midst of the children. On their level. Talking with them, not at them. Obviously, Ruth was more than just a volunteer in here. Another contradiction. Her sunny smile as she interacted with the sick children almost made him forget. Almost. But in the back of his mind, he remembered. Noah also remembered that he needed to talk to Ruth about Hannah’s illness.

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t miss your party for all the chocolate in the world.” Ruth pulled the skinny arms from around her neck. “And I’ve brought a special visitor today to help celebrate.”

Ruth stood and held out her hand to Noah. “Kids, I’d like you to meet Mr. Barton and his dog, Houston. Everyone say hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Barton. Houston.” A chorus of young voices answered as they welcomed him into their midst. Many hands reached out to pet his dog. Houston loved all the attention and tried to gain his freedom so he could play with all the children.

Noah tried to catch Ruth’s eye to see if he should put the dog on the carpet, but she was too caught up in listening to a story from one the young boys holding her hand. He glanced around the room, looking for an authority figure, but only came up with several smiling parents, and his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Murphy, cradling a young toddler in her arms. Was Mrs. Murphy a volunteer like Ruth or was the little girl her grandchild?

An uncomfortable weight settled across his heart. In the few brief conversations he’d had with the woman, the subject of family had never come up. He’d preferred it that way because then he wouldn’t have to get involved. He stared at the top of Ruth’s head again, among all the different shades of color from blond to red to black.