Dana's Valley (29 page)

The guys huffed and struggled with the heavier pieces, but little by little our spacious home was emptied of its contents. I hated the feel of the stark rooms. It made
me
feel empty inside too.
What an awful way to begin a new summer,
I mourned inwardly.

Graham was the one who drove Corey and me away from our home for the last time. Graham reached for my hand as I struggled not to cry. Then Corey crawled up from the backseat to sit between us in the front and I cuddled him close. We didn't look back. It was far too painful.

The new house was a jumble of furniture and boxes. Brett had tried to decide where Mom would want things to be placed, but he had very little knack for it. We rearranged as many of the furnishings as Graham and I could manage and then tried to stack boxes so they would be out of the way before he needed to leave for home. The church had offered to send a group of men to help with the moving, but with only one truck, it had not seemed reasonable.

Now I surveyed the disaster area that we were to call home and dragged myself off to the kitchen to begin placing dishes into cupboards. It was a time-consuming task. I was pretty sure Mom would have done a good deal more cleaning first, but I was too tired to care.

It took me another full day before I had unpacked almost all the kitchen things—leaving in boxes what wouldn't fit inside the cupboards. Then during the next day I arranged the bedrooms as best I could, and Dad found time to set up the washer and dryer. We worked together late into the night on the rest of the house. It had begun to take shape, but we worried that Mom would feel compelled to pick up where we'd left off the minute she got home. We both knew what she needed—rest. So we hid as many of the remaining boxes in the basement as we could manage.

When she finally was able to come home and see how we were doing, she seemed greatly relieved. I don't think she had expected us to have accomplished so much of the moving in and arranging.

“Oh, Erin. It's very nice. I like the sofa there, and you've even hung some pictures. Thank you.” She reached to hug me close. “Thank you so much. I know it must have taken a lot of time and work.”

I thought about asking how Dana was doing, but I decided against it. Mom would let me know when she was ready to talk about it. For now I just followed her to the kitchen while she took her first look around. She exclaimed over the cupboards as she opened each one.

Later Graham and I drove to the corner store to pick up a few groceries. He seemed to welcome the opportunity for us to be alone to talk. As much as I enjoyed his company, I felt just a bit awkward during moments like these when he tried to coax my inner thoughts from me. I knew our closeness was crippled by my disillusionment about God. Graham was a good friend—a best friend—and I was sure he hoped we could come to mean even more to each other. But I had presented such a false picture of myself to him. He was the pastor's son. And more than that, I knew he really believed that God was
God.
I wondered if he'd even look at me if he actually knew my heart.

Dad did his best to make our new place seem like home. I think he was particularly concerned for Corey, who was still mourning the loss of his mountain ash.
“It was just getting big enough to make berries to feed the birds,”
Corey had lamented as he'd told it a tearful good-bye.

As soon as we were functional in the new house, Dad proposed that he and Corey make a trip to the nursery. I had no idea where they'd put trees. The small backyard was crowded as it was. But Corey fairly danced through the kitchen where I was trying to heat some spaghetti for lunch.

“We're gonna get some more trees. They'll grow up fast.” I wondered if the last statement was his attempt to console me.

But Dad checked his enthusiasm. “Just one,” he said. “Only one.”

Corey spun on his heel and looked at Dad, his eyes wide.

“There's only room for one.” Dad was quite firm about it.

I could tell by Corey's face that he was dreadfully disappointed. His chin dropped and his eyes looked so sad. Then he swallowed and nodded.

We ate our lunch in relative silence. Then Dad and Corey left and I cleaned up. When they returned, a small spruce tree rode in the back of the van.

“Have you decided where you want to put it?” I heard Dad ask as he wrestled the tree through the van's back door.

Corey had no hesitation. He ran on ahead and stood firmly on the spot he had chosen. He must have already given it careful thought.

“Right here.”

Dad rested the tree on the ground. A frown creased his forehead. “You can't see the tree out of your window from there.”

“I know.”

“I thought you wanted to be able to watch it. You said you picked the spruce because the robins like the branches to build in.”

“I know,” said Corey. “They do. I watched them build in Brett's tree at our other house.”

“But you don't want to watch them build here at this house?” Dad seemed puzzled.

It took a moment for Corey to answer.

“It's for Dana,” he finally said. “She can lay right in her bed and watch the robins.”

I turned away. I didn't want to cry, but the tears were already stinging my eyes. Maybe Dad was bothered by tears too. It was a few moments before I heard the shovel start digging the hole for the new tree.

Mom called every night with a summary of the day. But the news about Dana continued to worsen. Things had come to the point where she asked us to keep the pastor updated. I wasn't quite sure why she wanted him to be the first to know. It probably had something to do with the prayer thing again. It seemed to give her comfort to know that our pastor was aware of the situation on a daily basis. When Dad was home, he was the one to make the call. But often, Dad was with Mom and Dana, so I was forced to pass along the information. I hated the job.

Pastor Dawson was a friendly, likeable man. I had always appreciated his jovial way of putting everyone at ease, but I wished with all my heart that he were someone other than Graham's father. It made me twice as uncomfortable making the calls.

It was a difficult balancing act for me, giving coherent summaries of Dana's progress and trying not to immerse myself in the medical jargon. Even worse, it was hard for me to express normal concern for my sister without stating definite prayer requests. It seemed so hypocritical to ask others to pray when I wasn't praying myself. I wished I could have remained out of it entirely, but I couldn't tell my parents I wouldn't help. So I went along with everything they asked me to say.

“Hello, Pastor Dawson.”

“Erin, it's good to hear from you. I've been wondering if the new antibiotic has been effective.”

I recited the details as best I could. “I guess it is helping. Mom says Dana's fever has dropped a little and that her potassium level has risen slightly. But she was only able to walk a few steps and is extremely nauseous. They're concerned about her blood count, which is still the biggest problem because they're not seeing the im~provements they feel they should have by now.”

I could tell he was making notes as I spoke. “Oh, I'm so sorry. How are your parents holding up?”

“Well, they had a visit today from a family whose son had leukemia. When they bring him back now to get his testing done to make sure he's still in remission, they visit throughout the ward. I guess Mom was very encouraged to talk with them. And she was very touched that someone would go to that trouble to encourage others.”

“I'm glad to hear it, Erin. And how are you and Corey?”

“We're all right. Thanks.”

“Well, I'll pass this through our prayer chain. Thank you for calling.”

“Thanks. Bye.” I laid the phone back in its cradle and put my head in my arms on the counter beside it. How much longer could this possibly go on?

I jolted when Corey tapped my elbow. “Erin, are Mom and Dad coming home?”

“Not tomorrow. They're going to stay with Dana.”

His eyes clouded. “I made a tower with my Legos. It's the biggest I ever made. I wanted Mom to see it.”

“Save it. They might be home in a few days.”

His face set in a stubborn frown. “You always say that.”

“Say what?”

“‘In a few days.' That's what
everybody
always says. But I don't think they mean it. I think it's just a lie.” He spun on a heel and went back to his room. Suddenly I heard a crashing sound, and I hurried to follow him.

“Corey, stop. Don't knock it down. You worked so hard.” “But I wanted Mom to see it. And she won't.” He kicked the pile of tumbled bricks again. Then his anger dissolved into tears. “I just want to see her, Erin. I just want Mom.”

“I know, Corey.” I reached for him, but he pushed me away.

“Don't. Leave me alone.”

He had never spoken that way to me. I wasn't sure how to react. “Do you really want me to leave?”

“Yes.” His chin came out, and he kicked the Legos again. “Just leave me alone.”

I closed the door quietly and went back to the kitchen. I had done everything in my power to be what Corey needed me to be. Over the last few years I had mothered him, cooked for him, read to him, and taught him to read. He deserved to have his mom home—some of the time. Resolutely I picked up the phone and dialed the emergency number I'd been given to leave messages.

“Dad, it's Erin. Corey's really upset. I think Mom needs to come home. If you get this message, please call me back. It doesn't matter how late it is. Bye.”

Mom arrived home the next day. Dad had stayed behind. I left the house soon to give Mom time alone with Corey. Besides, I was afraid she would start telling me about the treatments and what Dana was going through. I didn't want to hear it. I called Graham from the nearby gas station, and he invited me to join him at the church, where he was going to make updates on the church web page. He was soon there to pick me up. The long drive didn't help. I was still angry by the time we arrived at the church office. It wasn't fair. Everyone had already suffered so much. And Dana hadn't improved at all.

I thought I could hide my anger. I planned to just keep the feelings bottled up again, but I wasn't successful this time.

I'd been silently watching the screen as Graham clicked away at the keyboard, updating the posted information. But my thoughts had been drifting far beyond the computer screen.

“What's wrong?” I hadn't noticed that Graham had stopped what he was doing and was studying me instead. “You haven't said a word for an hour. Please, Erin,” he pressed. “Tell me what you're thinking about. Is it Dana?”

“It's always Dana.” I let the words fly with more force than I'd expected.

Graham pushed away from the desk and took my hand. “You'd feel better if you just talked about it once in a while.”

He had no idea what he was saying. I drew my hand back and stood up. “I need to walk.”

“I'll come.”