Seasons Under Heaven (18 page)

She was happy to see Joseph, masked like a bandit, walking toward the waiting room to meet them, pushing a little cart in front of him to which his Heart Mate was attached. Spencer and Brittany were as impressed with all his wiring as they would have been with Robo Cop.

Barry supervised the conversation, making sure that Spencer didn’t get a wild hare and decide to swing from one of Joseph’s tubes. Tory and Brenda sat just outside the waiting room, away from the kids. “So how’s it going?” Tory asked.

“It’s going great,” Brenda said. “I’m enjoying the time I’m getting to spend with him. He’s not used to one-on-one attention. It’s been fun. And I’m getting some fierce homeschooling in. He’s too bored to fight it.”

Tory shot her a disbelieving look. “No, I mean…really. You don’t have to put on that bright face with me. Your child is sitting here waiting for a heart transplant. Don’t tell me it’s been fun.”

Brenda’s smile faded. “Does it show?”

“What? The humanity? Yes, as a matter of fact, it does. You look like a mother who’s scared to death. Just the way I would look.”

The smile in Brenda’s eyes vanished, and that worry returned. “I try, Tory. For Joseph’s sake, and for David’s sake…and for my sake, I try to have faith and think about the end of all this, when Joseph is healthy and back at home. But then I imagine a different ending, and I panic…I don’t guess I hide it very well.” Brenda got up and strolled to the nurse’s station, where a table was set up with a coffeepot. She poured two cups. She knew how Tory liked hers; they’d visited so many times at each other’s kitchen table.

Tory waited, giving her time to say everything on her heart.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few days,” Brenda said, handing Tory her cup. “A lot of time to pray. And I guess what this has taught me is that every minute is so important, with every child.”

Tory’s eyes were fixed on Brenda, for she wanted to take in every drop of the wisdom Brenda had to share. “But you already seem to squeeze so much life out of
every
minute.”

Brenda smiled. “Well, Tory, I guess it changes you when you realize that this moment may be the only one you have with that child. It’s changed the way I look at my other kids, too.”

“I think I’d be hovering over them, crying and begging and bargaining with God.”

“Trust me—I’ve done that, too,” Brenda admitted. “Oh, the bargains I’ve made. Like God’s a car dealer or something. Like if I just hit the right combination of prayer and confession and repentance and Scripture quoting and praise, He’ll say, ‘Finally, she’s done what I’ve been waiting for, so now I can answer her prayers.’”

Her eyes misted as she sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “The day they admitted Joseph, I went into the chapel to pray, and Sylvia came in, bless her heart. She was a godsend. I really needed her. I was crying, upset, angry, and everything else you can imagine. And Sylvia said something to me that I’ve tried to remember ever since. It was that all of the blessings we have come from God. That means our children, too. We try to hold them in clenched fists, and think they’re ours. But she reminded me that Joseph belongs to God, not me. I’ve been entrusted with him for a while.” Her mouth trembled as she got the words out. “But I have to hold that blessing in an open hand, because God could take him back at any time. He has every right to. Joseph’s not an object to be bargained with, and God loves him even more than I do.”

Tory only looked at her, unable to comprehend that much trust in God. “I don’t think I could do it, Brenda. As much as I whine and complain about my kids, that might just be the one area of my life where I can’t open my hand.”

“I know,” Brenda agreed. “There’ve been times when I’ve read the story of Abraham and Isaac, when he was willing to
offer him as a sacrifice. And I thought, how did he do it? How do you find the strength to trust God that way?” She looked at Tory with glistening eyes. “I’m afraid I might find out.”

Tory’s own eyes began to fill, and she wished she knew what to say. Brenda was miles above her in the areas of wisdom and spirituality. How could Tory find any words adequate to comfort her? She fought the tightening in her throat. “So how do you keep that hand open?”

“It’s not easy,” Brenda bit out. “Trust me.”

Tory looked down at her coffee, wiping a finger along the edge of the cup. If Joseph died, what would Brenda do? Would her faith hold, or would she rail against God? “I guess we really have no
choice
but to trust God,” she said, feeling the words echo with emptiness.

“Yes, we do,” Brenda said. “We can choose not to, like David.” She shook her head. “But the truth is, David’s lack of hope gives him even fewer options than I have. If Joseph dies, David’s going to feel so angry and so defeated. He’ll never be able to see any good in it.”

“And you really will?” Tory asked.

Brenda touched her fingertips to her mouth, as if she could stave off the tragic expression pulling at her face. “It’ll be the hardest thing that ever happened to me,” she whispered. “But God understands. He was there, remember? In Gethsemane, Jesus wanted to close His fist around His own life. But He didn’t. He kept that hand open, and told God that if it was His will to take His life—”

“But He grieved,” Tory said quietly.

“Oh, yeah,” Brenda whispered. “He did that. I’ll do it, too, if He takes Joseph.”

Tory dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “You’re stronger than I am. I think, by now, I would have broken something. Put my fist through a wall. Gone on Prozac.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Brenda offered her a wan smile. “Look at all the money you’re bringing in for Joseph. You’ve got a few things going for you, too.”

Tory’s face brightened up, and she wiped the tears away. “Yeah, we’ve gotten several small checks in the mail already, and it hasn’t even been a week since I sent the letters out. And I’m not finished yet. I’m going to send follow-up letters to the churches who don’t answer. And I’ve sent out thank-yous to the ones who have. I’ve invited them to the animal fair so they can feel even more a part of this.”

“Good idea,” Brenda said. “I appreciate your efforts so much. David does, too, even though he may seem ungrateful.” She sipped her coffee, then blew on the steam. “He’s got so much pride. Hates the idea of charity of any kind. So he’s putting a ‘For Sale By Owner’ sign in the yard tonight.”

“No!” Tory said. “Brenda, he can’t. That’s why we’re raising the money. Selfishly, for ourselves. We don’t want you to move.”

“I can’t talk him out of it.” Brenda got up, went to the door of the waiting room, and peered in to make sure Joseph was all right. Satisfied, she turned back to Tory. “It’s probably best. Even with the donations, the expenses are so high. We’ll just rent an apartment for a while.”

“An apartment? With four kids? And what about David’s workshop?”

“He’s been looking for a job,” Brenda said. “Something that pays better.” She couldn’t meet Tory’s eyes, and finally went back into the doorway. “Joseph’s got to go back to the room now before his battery runs out.”

Tory followed, still disturbed, as Brenda walked Joseph to his room and plugged him back into his machine. Before she left, she hugged her friend. “Brenda, God does provide.”

Brenda smiled, a real, genuine, ear-to-ear smile made more profound by her wet eyes. “Sometimes He even provides a ram in the thicket. I could use a couple of them right now.”

On Cedar Circle, Leah, Rachel, and Daniel sat at their front window, watching their father hammer the For Sale sign into the ground.

“I’ve got supper ready for you,” Sylvia said, trying to distract them.

Daniel glanced back at her. “I’m not hungry.”

“Me, neither,” Rachel whispered.

Sylvia walked up behind them and saw that Leah was crying. She bent down to hug the girl. “Honey, don’t cry.”

“I like our house,” Leah said. “Where are we gonna live?”

“Wherever it is, it’ll be just fine.” But she had no intentions of letting them move. Somehow, she would raise the money the Dodds needed before they sold the house. Then maybe she could convince David to take it off the market.

The front door opened, and he came back in. As he stood just inside, looking at the children’s sad faces, Sylvia saw the raw emotion on his own. “It’s gonna be okay, guys,” he said. “I haven’t ever let you down before, have I?”

The three children quietly shook their heads.

He glanced up at Sylvia, then went and sat down in front of the children. “Guys, I’m counting on you now. Mama’s not here to keep the house clean, and people are going to be looking at it. I need for you guys to keep it clean. You already do a really good job, but without Mama it’s going to take an extra effort. Just remember, we’re doing it for Joseph.”

“Joseph will need a place to live when he gets better,” Rachel said, her mouth beginning to quiver.

“We’ll have a place to live. It may be smaller, but that’s okay. We can handle that.”

“But what if they raise all the money we need at the animal fair?” Daniel asked. “Then can we take the sign down?”

“They’re not going to raise
that
much money,” David cautioned them. “It’s impossible.” Again, he shot Sylvia a look before she could argue. “I do appreciate what you all are doing, Sylvia. Brenda does, too. But we have to think realistically.”

She nodded. “I know, David.”

He turned back to the kids. “I know things are kind of topsyturvy right now, guys. You’re not getting to see Mama much, and I haven’t spent much time with you, either. But things’ll get better soon. We just all have to concentrate on Joseph right now. Send him good thoughts.”

“Joseph doesn’t need our thoughts,” Daniel whispered. “He needs our prayers.”

David nodded. “Prayers, then.” He got up, and Sylvia realized he had aged in the last few weeks. He looked worn, weary, almost stooped with despair. “I’ve got to go to the hospital now,” he said. He leaned over and gave each child a hug. “I love you guys.”

They each returned his love, but as he left the house, they all turned back to the window and stared at the sign as if it sealed their fate.

Sylvia just hoped she could prove to them that it didn’t.

The animal fair on the Fourth of July was scheduled to begin at noon, but by eight A.M., dozens of people had shown up to help. Cathy spent the morning setting up corrals where the children could pet the animals. By ten, the animals began to arrive in a steady stream, as if they were headed for Noah’s ark.

Just before noon, a couple dozen people from Brenda’s church showed up with casseroles and hot dogs and cakes of every kind to sell to raise money for little Joseph. Sylvia’s church rose to the occasion as well. Someone donated ice. Someone else donated gallons of soft drinks. Others set up game booths, complete with prizes. She hadn’t even asked them, but they had supplied.

The festivities spilled over onto the parking lot, because there wasn’t enough room on the lawn. A contemporary Christian group from Sylvia’s church turned out for entertainment.

Around noon, Steve Bennett, the man who had come to her parent awareness meeting, showed up with his little girl, a freckle-faced, pigtailed blonde named Tracy. Cathy was happier
to see him than she’d expected to be, though she tried not to show it.

The little girl, Joseph’s age, was a cute little thing who stuck close to her daddy. “I thought Tracy might enjoy the fair,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do while I’m here, just holler. I like animals, and they like me, so if you can think of a place where you need me, I’m glad to help.”

“Not yet,” Cathy said. “Just go have fun with Tracy. When she starts feeling comfortable enough to let you go, come back and I’ll put you to work.”

He grinned and winked at Tracy. “I imagine she’ll see a lot of her friends here, but so far I’m her only buddy, right?” His little girl smiled shyly and nodded her head.

“Where do you get the pictures made?” she asked.

Cathy nodded toward Rick, who had set his camera on a tripod in front of some bushes, next to a sign that said, “Pet Pictures—$10.” “Rick’s taking them over there,” she said. “Did you bring a pet with you?”

The little girl nodded again, and she looked down at her pocket, as if she had a secret there.

“Don’t tell me,” Cathy said, bending over. “You have a gerbil in there.”

“No, ma’am.” She pulled a little turtle out of her pocket and held him up, his arms and legs flapping in the air.

“What a beautiful turtle,” Cathy said. “Where did you get it?”

“Down by the creek at home,” she said. “I found it this morning, and Daddy said I could get my picture made with it. Then I have to put it back in the bucket so it can swim.”

“Well, if you hurry, you won’t have to wait in line.”

Tracy grabbed her father’s hand. “Come on, Daddy. Can we do it now?”

Steve laughed and followed her over to Rick.

Less than an hour later, Cathy was at the table testing animals for heartworms when Steve returned. She was trying to examine a dog who was apparently in heat, and other dogs in line were straining at their leashes, howling and barking, trying
to get away from their masters so they could get to know her a little better.

“Tracy found a friend, so they’re running around checking out the booths,” he said. “Anything I can help with while I’m free?”

“Yes,” she said with relief. “You could help keep these animals restrained. See that one over there?” She nodded toward a German shepherd twice the size of the girl who held it. “I’d prefer putting him in the kennel if you can get him in there.”

“Sure,” he said. “No problem.”

He hurried to the dog and offered his help. “You can stay in line and we’ll just keep him locked up until it’s his turn,” he told the owner.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, surrendering the leash. The dog bolted forward to get to the dog in heat, but Steve reined him back in and began to scratch his ears.

“What’s his name?”

“Butch.”

“Come on, Butch. You gotta stay away from these women. They’re nothing but trouble.”

Cathy laughed under her breath.

Within seconds, Steve had the dog contained in the boxlike kennel.

“Way to go,” she said. “You’ve done that before.”

“Yeah, when I was growing up, we raised black labs.”

“Really? Still have them?”

“Not here. My folks raise them in Alabama.”

“Then you probably wouldn’t mind locking up one more?”

He dusted off his hands. “Lady, I can lock up as many as you want.”

She handed him the dog she had just examined. “Would you mind helping this lady get her into the car? She’s going to run her home and then come back and enjoy the fair. She doesn’t have heartworms, but she’s driving all the male dogs crazy.”

“No problem,” he said. Expertly, he lifted the dog up and carried it to the little car the lady pointed out.

Cathy couldn’t help watching him walk away. He wasn’t afraid of animals, or of children, or of getting dirty, and he didn’t seem to have an agenda. She liked that about him. But just as quickly as that thought danced through her brain, she chased it away. He was a man, and she had given up men.

She glanced across the lawn at Leah, Rachel, and Daniel Dodd, who were working some of the booths. Sylvia and Harry mingled with families, talking up the reason for the animal fair. Already, Sylvia had collected more money just from spontaneous donations than Tory and Barry had collected at the donor-card table.

Then her eyes fell on David, who walked around behind a video camera, looking amazed at the level of activity—all of it because of his son. He hadn’t had a moment free since the fair had begun. People had been approaching him all day, offering him encouragement, asking how they could help. Cathy knew he was moved; she was moved, herself.

Cathy hoped the video would be an encouragement to Joseph. But the truth was, over the past few days he had declined noticeably. When she’d gone to see him last, he hadn’t been sitting up. He’d lain in bed, struggling for breath, with dark circles under his eyes. He wasn’t eating well, Brenda had said, and he’d lost weight.

Cathy only hoped all of this was not in vain. It wouldn’t matter how much money they raised, if they didn’t find a heart soon.

“This must be one special little boy,” Steve Bennett said, and she turned around. He stood behind her, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“He
is
a special little boy,” she said. “But I guess when anybody that young is threatened, you just want to help.”

“Tell me about it,” he said. “Boy, I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to Tracy.”

“Joseph’s her age,” Cathy said.

“Yeah, that’s what I hear.”

The band stopped playing, and Sylvia went to the microphone and called out across the crowd. “Cathy, Dr. Cathy Flaherty? Where are you?”

Cathy waved at her and Sylvia saw her. “Come up here and tell these fine folks why we’re doing this, would you?”

Cathy shot Steve a grin, then headed up to the podium. Everyone quieted down as she stepped up to the microphone. “I just want to thank you folks for coming,” she said. “Especially those of you who volunteered your time, people who are here because they want to help Joseph Dodd.” The crowd applauded, and she waited for it to die down. “Joseph couldn’t be here today, because he’s in the hospital waiting for a heart transplant. And he’s not doing very well, so we’d appreciate your prayers. But as you know, we need more than that. His father, David, is one of the hardest working men I know,” she said, gesturing to David, who was still videotaping. “But as most of you know, insurance often doesn’t cover the complete bill for an operation like this, and the Dodd family will still have to pay thirty percent of Joseph’s medical bills, and that could add up to a fortune. So we really appreciate all the sacrificial giving we’ve seen today.” She looked down at David, Daniel, Rachel, and Leah. “You want to say anything?”

Looking woefully uncomfortable, David handed the video camera to Daniel and stepped up onto the stage. He cleared his throat and adjusted the angle of the microphone. “This is a tough time for our family, but I’m really amazed at the way the community has turned out.” His voice broke off, and he wiped his eyes and reached down for the video camera. Daniel handed it to him. “I’m videotaping this so Joseph can see what a lucky little boy he is.” Overcome with emotion, he stopped for a moment, fiddled with the camera, then stepped up to the mike again. “One thing I do want to say.” He cleared his throat. “It’s real important…to Joseph, and a lot of others…that people be organ donors. We’d really appreciate it if you’d take the time to sign your donor cards. You can just do it on the back of your driver’s license.” He coughed, cleared his throat, then handed the microphone to Cathy.

“I second that,” Cathy said. “Sign your donor cards, please. We have a table over there where you can get cards and sign up,
but the most important thing is to let your family know you did. We’d all really appreciate that. Now you all just go on and have fun,” she said, “and if you feel like giving any more money than you have already, just find one of us and we’ll be glad to take it.”

The crowd laughed softly.

By the end of the fair, they had raised five thousand dollars for Joseph’s trust fund—not counting the money from the auction of the horses, which had brought in almost that much again. Cathy could hardly believe it.

When the crowd had thinned out and only the volunteers remained, she wondered if she would be able to get the grounds cleaned up before dark. But she was amazed all over again at the number of people who stayed behind to help. Steve Bennett was one of them. He and Rick disassembled the fencing and kennels she had set up, and loaded them into her truck. Tracy, his daughter, was sitting between Rachel and Leah in the bed of Steve’s truck, and they were braiding her hair, one on each side of her, while she let her turtle run for its life on the hot vinyl bed liner.

Though Annie had disappeared, Mark grudgingly walked around the lawn scooping up the evidence that the animals had been there. It was all coming down quickly, and soon there would be no trace that they had been here. She looked across the lot at the church building, and realized that God was providing through His churches. All of this was about Him as much as Joseph. These churches were demonstrating what churches were supposed to be.

Suddenly, she had a fierce yearning for her children to grow up in a congregation like this, where people cared and helped and gave. She wondered if it was too late for them to be a real part of something like this.

Her eyes drifted across to Steve Bennett as he used a wrench to disassemble some of the railing. Was he one of God’s provisions? If she were looking for a man—which she definitely wasn’t—he was the kind of man she would look for. He wasn’t the good-looking type who knocked women dead. In fact, he would be easy to overlook in a crowd. But there was something
about him that was different from the other men she’d met lately, something that made her uneasy about walking away from here and not seeing him again.

For the first time since she’d become single again, she considered asking a man for a date. Then her own lack of courage won out, and she told herself she couldn’t do that. If he wanted to go out with her, he knew where he could find her. She chased the thoughts out of her mind and finished her work.

When the lawn was clear and clean and Rick had driven Mark home in the truck so they could go to the fireworks at the high school football field, Steve and his daughter still lagged behind. He helped Cathy get the last few things into her car, then looked around him. Tracy was in the bed of his pickup truck, still playing with her turtle.

“Steve, I can’t tell you how I appreciate your help today,” she said. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“Oh, sure you could,” he said. “You had it going pretty well when I got here.”

“But you helped so much with the cleanup. I would have been here until tomorrow.”

“No problem,” he said. “You know, this was a great idea. Look at all the money you raised, and I think it’s just the beginning. I think a lot more will come in as a result of this.”

“I hope so,” she said. She opened her car door, but didn’t get in.

He leaned his hand on the top of the door. “Well, it was good getting to know you a little better,” he said. “I still plan to see you at the school board meeting in September.”

“Good. That’s great.” They stood staring at each other for a moment, and she thought of inviting him over for dinner. Something prevented her, and she wanted to kick herself. She could just hear Annie lecturing her.
Mom, this isn’t the fifties. Grow up. Women ask men out all the time.
She held her breath, wishing he would ask her instead.

He seemed to be struggling with something, and for a moment she was sure he would ask.

But then Tracy called out, “Daddy!”

He turned around. “I’m coming, sweetie.” When he faced her again, Cathy knew the moment was shattered.

“Well, guess I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Thanks again.”

He watched her get into the car, then closed her door and headed back across the lot to his own truck. He pulled Tracy out of the bed and tickled her on her way into the cab. Cathy watched him wait for the little girl to hook her seat belt, then pull out of the driveway.

Some tender spot she hadn’t felt in a long time swelled in her heart, and she wondered if she was crazy. Men always disappointed her. She needed to stop fantasizing that this could be any different. Steve Bennett was still a man. He had a man’s desires and a man’s thoughts. He couldn’t be that far removed from the other men she’d known.

But then she thought of Harry…Barry…David. And she wondered if it was possible that there was one more man like them, faithful and willing to do his part, without any ulterior motives or secret agenda. Maybe Steve Bennett was real.

So why had she let him get away?

She sighed and headed back home, trying to concentrate on the successes of the day, instead of the failures.