The Keeper (36 page)

Dr. Lee took Julia aside to ask if the family would consider allowing other organs for donation. “I realize you have a great deal to cope with right now, but there is a question I need to ask. Would you be willing to let Menno’s other organs help save other people?”

They wanted more of Menno?
Julia felt a wave of nausea. How could she possibly make such a decision, at this moment in time?

“Julia, your brother can give the gift of life to someone else with his heart, lungs, liver, kidneys. His corneas will help someone see and his skin will heal burns. Medical science has learned of ways to use so much healthy tissue. But, of course, Menno is not of age, so we would need your father’s permission. Would you speak to him?”

She didn’t answer right away. “Give me some time.”

“Of course. But, the longer Menno remains on the machines, the fewer organs we can use.”

She got up and slowly walked out of the room, down the hall to Menno’s room. She passed the garden where she had talked with Rome, and felt a pull toward it.
Dear Lord
, she prayed
, I can’t even imagine life without Menno. And now my father has a chance to live. I don’t know what you have planned for my father. I want to believe you will send us a miracle, but if you can’t, I know that you will take him home to be with you in heaven
. . .
the ultimate healing. Whatever you decide, Lord, thy will be done. I only ask that you give me strength to help me through.

As soon as she finished praying, the word
trust
popped into her mind, the way it had just a few days ago, when she prayed about Rome. Was it just a few days ago? It felt like a lifetime. But maybe that’s why God gave her that unique experience. To fortify her for what was coming.

Trust.

A quiet peace stole over her soul, replacing the heavy garment of fear she was wearing. She could feel the tension in her shoulders release and the tightness in her chest from constant worry begin to dissipate. She took a deep breath and looked up at the diamond-studded sky. Was Menno looking down on them now?

She went back down the hall and into Menno’s room. Fern and Sadie looked up when she came into the room. M.K. was curled up in a chair, asleep. Amos was stroking Menno’s hair. Uncle Hank sat in a chair, head in his hands. Rome was at the window, leaning his back against the sill.

“The doctor wants us to think about donating Menno’s other organs,” Julia said. “Not just his heart. His lungs, his liver, his kidneys. Even his corneas and skin.” She looked down at her clasped hands and swallowed hard. When she spoke, her voice was raw with emotion. “I think we should say yes. I think Menno would have said yes. He’s with the Lord. He doesn’t need his earthly shell any longer.”

Rome’s eyes caught hers, his expression tender, sad, amazed.

Sadie went over to her father and put a hand on his shoulder. “I think Julia’s right. I know she is. Menno would have wanted to give anything he could to help someone else.”

“Dad?” Julia asked. “It’s really your decision.”

Amos gave a brief nod.

The door opened and Dr. Highland, Amos’s cardiologist, walked in. “The team is waiting to check the viability of Menno’s heart. It’ll take a few hours. The transplant coordinator has asked the Organ Procurement and Transplantation Network to review factors to distribute the heart to Amos. So far, the blood type is a match, your weight and size fit within the parameters. The chance of rejection is greatly reduced when the organ donor is a family member. And your heart is in such bad shape that you’re high on the transplant list. This looks good, Amos. This looks like it might be the heart that is meant for you. If the OPTN gives us its blessing, you’ll be transferred to Hershey Medical by ambulance.” He looked over at Menno. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

One by one, each family member gave Menno a kiss and told them they loved him. Then it was time. The doctors and nurses surrounded Menno as they prepared to turn off the ventilator. The family stood against the wall. The machine blew out its last wheezing breath, and the doctor looked at the clock to record the time of death. In a deep voice, stronger than it had been in months, Amos prayed aloud the Lord’s Prayer.

Menno Joseph Lapp’s time of death was officially recorded as Thursday, October 27, 11:52 p.m.

That was what the death certificate would state. But Julia, Sadie, M.K., Fern, Uncle Hank, Amos and Rome knew that Menno had been taken to be with the Lord over an hour ago, when the family first gathered around his hospital bed.

It was long after midnight. Sadie noticed Edith Fisher sitting alone in the waiting room and went over to sit by her.

Edith looked up and said, “You must think I’m a horrible person.”

Sadie made a calming gesture. “No, Edith. I don’t think you’re horrible.”

“I was home alone, and heard the dog barking. Then I heard screaming and I knew that bear was out there—she’s been helping herself to my hens on a regular basis—and the boys weren’t home so I grabbed Paul’s rifle off of his bedroom wall and I just started shooting. I couldn’t see much because of the dark, Sadie. I didn’t know that Menno was there. Or M.K. I thought the bear was attacking the dog. I just panicked and started shooting.” Edith’s eyes filled with tears. “When I found out a bullet hit Menno, I just . . . I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”

“We already do, Edith. We know it was an accident. Accidents happen.”

“I was always so fond of Menno.”

“Everybody was. Menno knew you would never mean to hurt him, Edith. It was God’s time to call him home, and God doesn’t make mistakes.”

Edith’s head bounced up. “Julia will never forgive me. Never.”

“She will. She will forgive you, because she’s Julia.” Sadie had no doubt of that.

“What will Paul say?” She rocked herself back and forth in abject misery.

“Paul loves you. No one is blaming you for an accident.”

Edith started sobbing again.

“Would you like me to get you something? A cup of tea? A glass of water?”

“Would you. . . . just sit with me for a minute?”

“Everything is going to be okay,” Sadie said. She felt Edith relax, as if she believed her.

Other than that first meeting in the hospital garden, Rome hadn’t had a minute alone with Julia. She was constantly being taken aside by nurses or doctors or hospital workers who needed papers signed. So much paperwork.

The bishop and the deacon arrived at the hospital to offer support and prayers. Menno’s funeral needed to be planned in the midst of all of this. Rome was so proud of Julia—she was handling the pressure with calm and poise. Her twenty-one-year-old face looked middle-aged and careworn. This long evening of profound decision making had exhausted her. He didn’t know how she was holding up, hurting from the loss of her brother and frightened for her father. An hour ago, they received word that the OPTN agreed to the transplant. They had looked at several factors: blood and tissues were ideal matches to reduce risk of rejection, the weakened condition of Amos’s heart and the length of time he had been on the transplant list, as well as the geographical convenience of the donor heart. It was a go, the doctor said. There was no turning back for Amos. This was it. They were all aware of that. Amos’s last words to all of them, as he was being wheeled away by the nurse to prepare for the trip to Hershey, were: “I will have joy in the morning.” Either way, he meant.

As Rome watched Julia down by the nurse’s station, an unexpected wave of longing was triggered. Into his gut came that restless feeling of searching, of wanting. Something unthinkable pulled at the edges of his brain. He tried to push it away, but it only gathered strength. What if Julia had been right? He was letting fear dictate the course of his life. These last few days had given him time to think, to sift through the rubbish in his life that was shackling him.

In that moment, watching Julia, he understood what he needed to do. Maybe it would work, and maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would take heartbreak to a whole new level.

21

A
mos’s operation began well before dawn on Friday morning.

Julia had accompanied her father in the ambulance to Hershey Medical. Fern and Edith took M.K. home. Uncle Hank, Sadie, and Rome hired a taxi to go from Lancaster General to Hershey, about thirty minutes away, to keep vigil with Julia in the waiting room . . . waiting.

She glanced at the clock again. Five more minutes and it would be seven hours. Sadie had fallen asleep, curled up on two chairs, with her head in Julia’s lap. Uncle Hank paced up and down the halls. Rome sat quietly, across from Julia, hands clasped, head down, his lips silently moving. She knew he was praying and the sight touched her.

At the sound of footsteps, Julia glanced up the hall. When she saw the surgeon who performed the transplant with his face mask hanging around his neck, she rose to her feet and practically dumped Sadie on the floor.

The doctor smiled at her. “I have good news for you. That new heart is beating away like it belonged there.” The surgeon’s smile looked as tired as she felt. “Amos is in recovery. He’ll be heavily sedated for the next day or so, depending on how he responds.”

Julia ignored the tears trickling down her cheeks and smiled away. And kept on smiling. She sniffed and nodded. “Thank you.” Her father had a new heart. A new life.

Sadie squeezed her hand, sharing the thought. Uncle Hank patted Rome so hard on his back that he almost lost his footing, and they all laughed, a mixture of relief and joy.

“A word of warning,” the doctor said as he took Julia aside. “Now we fight the rejection battle.”

This warning, sobering though it was, had not succeeded in dampening Julia’s pleasure at the operation’s success. She had seized upon the positive words the doctor had uttered: there should be no reason why there should be any complications. There was much to be relieved about.

And there was much to grieve about.

The next day, Julia was allowed into her father’s hospital room. Already, she could see signs of returning health. The blue tinge was gone from around Amos’s mouth and eyes, even his fingernails were a healthy pink. When Julia took his hand, the warmth of it sent spirals of joy dancing up her arm and lodging in her heart. She had seen him for just a moment when he was getting wheeled from recovery to his room and was startled by how cold his hand was. The nurse explained that his body had been chilled down for surgery and it would take several hours to warm up again. Last night, he had been heavily sedated, but today, when she squeezed his hand, she received a squeeze in return. His eyes fluttered open and a slight smile moved the corners of his mouth.