The Heart of Memory (5 page)

“No, I don’t think so — I mean, I’ve been achy all over, including in my chest, but not heart-attack pain or anything like that. Nothing serious, really.”

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I’m going to write you a script for a chest x-ray; I want you to go up to the third floor where the imaging center is and have them do this right now. Once we get the results of that and some blood tests we’ll figure out what our next step is. We can do a hemoglobin test here for the anemia, but I’ll have to send the blood samples to the lab for the rest.”

“How long will that take?”

“I’ll put a rush on it; we should get it back tomorrow.”

She asked him about the other diagnoses she’d read in the medical book at home. He agreed her symptoms were consistent with hypothyroidism, but because she lacked so many other symptoms and the onset had been so quick, he doubted that was it. He also mentioned mononucleosis, but had been reluctant to guess beyond that, especially given the sounds in her chest.

Savannah left the office three vials of blood lighter and significantly more worried. The hemoglobin test had come back normal, so anemia was off the list. But the list of possibilities was daunting. Savannah’s longing for an answer now clashed with her fear of just how serious that answer might be.

The imaging center squeezed her in an hour later, and she drove home afterwards feeling rattled and frustrated. The doctor was supposed to have written her a script for an antibiotic and tell her to rest for a few more days, not send her into a panic with talk of blood tests and X-rays.

When Dr. Helms called the next day, Savannah’s fears grew. Hypothyroidism and mono had been ruled out by the blood tests. “And the X-rays confirmed what I was thinking — there’s fluid in your lungs and your heart has me concerned as well.”

Her gut seized. “So what does that mean?”

“Well, I don’t know yet. I’m going to fax a script over to the echocardiogram lab at the hospital. I want you to call them and make an appointment to get an echo done.”

She went clammy with nerves. “Oh. Okay. Give me the number and I’ll call right now.” She took down the number he gave her, then hung up and stared at it. She really had expected the blood tests to give them an answer. But now that the answer would be more serious than she’d expected, she was afraid to know what was really going on.

She glanced at the clock. Quarter after four. They probably weren’t there after four. She’d call first thing in the morning.

S
HAUN WAS ANTSY THAT EVENING,
trying to keep his mind off the possible results of tomorrow’s echo but not wanting his concern to show. When Savannah had given him the rundown of her blood tests and Dr. Helms’ insistence on getting the echo, he’d waved it off to diffuse her obvious anxiety. “Seriously, how bad could it be?” he said. “You’re normally healthy as a horse. It’s a precaution, I’m sure. It’ll be fine and he’ll go to the next test on the flow chart.” But he knew the possibilities were limited, and something less serious would have been found by now.

His mind was a mess. He wanted to hide in his office or go for a run, but he knew Savannah needed him and his false confidence nearby. He feigned interest in the paper to keep from having to engage too much, turning the pages at appropriate intervals and pretending to read while she lay on the couch and stared out the window. Maybe she’d fall asleep and he could sneak out …

“So, how are things at A&A?”

Or not.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s killing you to not be there.”

She rolled to her back, adjusting the throw pillow behind her head. “Torturing me, actually.”

Shaun gave her foot a squeeze. “It’s fine, just like it was yesterday, and the day before that. We’re not going to fall apart without you, you know.”

She sighed. “I know. I just get so tired of sitting here thinking. I almost wish A&A
was
falling apart, so I had something else to focus on besides what might be wrong with me.”

“Heh, bite your tongue.” Though the thought of being free from the weight of the financial responsibility is bliss.

She nudged him with her foot. “Come on. We must have something to discuss. Any big decision you want to hash out? Any new curriculum ideas? Anything at all?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh—what about the feedback from the tour? Marisa told me on Monday the info cards had come in, but she hadn’t had time to go through them yet.”

He nodded. “Yes, they did come back, and Marisa just gave me the report yesterday. All very positive; no surprise there. Only one case of books was left, so you set a personal sales record.”

She gave a half-hearted pump of her fist. “Yay.”

Shaun thought for a moment, debating whether or not to mention the one issue he actually could bring up to her. “I am a little concerned with one thing.” Her face lit up with interest. “Remember Nick Albright, the accountant we hired back in April?”

“Of course.”

Shaun set aside his newspaper so Savannah wouldn’t see his hands shaking. He’d never been able to keep his cool while lying. “I’ve got a really bad feeling he’s been stealing.”

She raised her brows. “Office supplies?”

“Money.”

Savannah sat up. “Oh Shaun, seriously? He doesn’t seem the type! What happened to make you think that?”

“I was checking the bank statement, going over some things, and the numbers weren’t reconciling with the monthly reports he’s been giving me. I started going back over previous statements and reports, and I noticed a trend.” He shrugged, giving her a brief look before averting his eyes again. “I thought maybe I was the one making the mistake, but I did them all at least twice, and got the same discrepancies. I think he’s taking money from the ministry.”

Savannah shook her head as her hand massaged her chest. “Oh Shaun, what are we going to do? He seemed like such a nice young man.”

He chuckled. “You’d have expected him to come to the job interview with a ski mask?”

She gave a mirthless chuckle and lay back down. “That just breaks my heart.”

“I know; that’s why I haven’t said anything yet. I knew you’d take it hard. I didn’t want to worry you with things you couldn’t fix.”

“So now what?”

“Well, I think it’s clear we need to replace him.”

“What? No — we need to confront him, Shaun. What good are we doing for him if we don’t call him on it and do what we can to help him? Who knows what his motivation is. For all we know he’s got some awful financial trouble and doesn’t know what else to do. Taking away his income might make him even more desperate. I just can’t believe he’s doing it to be malicious.”

“Sweetheart, I know you like to assign positive intent to everyone, and overall that’s a good policy. But when we have proof that someone has been blatantly stealing from the ministry, I don’t think trying to make excuses for that behavior is helpful to anyone.”

She frowned, sitting up again. “I’m not making excuses, Shaun. I’m not saying it’s alright that he’s stealing. I’m saying we don’t know what is going on behind the scenes, and we need to consider the possibility that our brother in Christ—” her brows arched “ — is just in dire need of help. How can we, in good conscience, just send him on his way to steal from someone else and not even try to get to the bottom of things?”

Shaun mentally kicked himself for opening his mouth. After twenty-two years he knew how her mind and heart worked. How would he get himself out of this mess? “I’m just trying to help us avoid a scandal, Van. If anyone got wind of the fact that we knew about this and didn’t deal with it—”

“Oh, for pete’s sake, Shaun, are you listening to me at all?” Savannah pushed herself from the couch, glaring at him as she swayed on her feet. “We
should
deal with it, of course we should. But dealing with it doesn’t have to be—” She reached out a hand to the back of the couch, grasping it tightly as her other hand flew to her chest. “Oh …”

Shaun, frozen in shock, watched as Savannah seemed to fall in slow motion, her legs folding beneath her and her body settling in a heap on the floor.

CHAPTER 4

S
AVANNAH HADN’T BEEN TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM SINCE HER
last miscarriage. She welcomed the distraction of a new environment, letting herself stare unapologetically at the nurses and doctors as they walked or ran past her room. It kept her mind off her own troubles — like how much harder it was to breathe, and how much more her chest ached.

Shaun looked about as awful as she felt. He sat beside her bed in a plastic chair, shoulders hunched and features etched with worry. She’d never forget the look on his face when she’d regained consciousness — it still hadn’t faded entirely. The intake nurse had asked him twice if he was alright.

The time passed slowly. The ER didn’t seem full, but apparently it was still busy. She had nothing to compare it to, other than the rare episode of hospital dramas she’d seen on TV, and who knew how accurate those were. Regardless, it took half an hour for a doctor to finally come to Savannah’s bed and pick up the chart; when she did Savannah’s nerves kicked up a notch for fear of what she might say. Shaun straightened in the chair and they reached simultaneously for each other’s hands.

“Hi there, Mrs. Trover. I’m Dr. Rockwell.” She pulled over a stool, lips pursed, and looked over Savannah’s chart. “Weakness and fatigue for two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“And the fainting spell this evening.”

“Yes, that’s never happened before.”

Dr. Rockwell pulled her stethoscope from her neck and settled it into place. “You told the nurse your chest ached. For how long?”

“I don’t know — three or four days, maybe? But not as badly as it does now.”

“Have you had shortness of breath, vomiting, diarrhea?”

Savannah blinked at the rapid-fire questions. “Um — short of breath, yes. It used to be just when I’d go up the stairs, but it’s a lot harder to breathe now than it was before I fainted.”

Dr. Rockwell moved the chest piece to a new place, eyes trained somewhere above Savannah’s head as she listened. “Have you ever had a stress test, heart catheterization, echocardiogram?”

“No, never — I’m usually very healthy.”

“Do you have high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol, or do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been told you have a weak heart?”

The questions were becoming unnerving. “No. No to all of it. Like I said, I’m usually really healthy. Although …” She rubbed a hand to her chest. Talking so much was making it hurt more. “My doctor told me today to get an echo done. I was going to make the appointment tomorrow.”

The doctor helped Savannah sit up, then pushed her hair behind her ears and settled the chest piece between Savannah’s shoulder blades. “Deep breath in, please.”

It was more difficult than she expected it to be. She bit her lip, trying not to jump to any conclusions.

“Your doctor didn’t hear anything amiss in your lungs?”

“Rales — he said he heard rales.”

“Did you get a chest X-ray?”

“Yes, at the imaging center in his medical building. He said he saw fluid in my lungs and told me to get an echo done because my heart didn’t look right.”

Dr. Rockwell removed the stethoscope and laid it around her neck. “That’s consistent with what I’m hearing. I’m sending you up for an X- ray, we’re going to check your lungs again, and your heart.”

Shaun’s hand tightened on hers. “Any idea what it might be?” His voice sounded strained.

“I don’t want to say anything until I’ve had a chance to look at the X-rays.” She pulled back the sheets and continued her examination. After a moment she pressed on Savannah’s ankles. “Do you get swelling very often?”

Savannah pushed herself up on her elbows and gasped. Her ankles had swollen considerably. “No,” she said, her voice small. “Never.”

The doctor gave them a sympathetic look as she draped the sheets back over Savannah’s legs. “Don’t worry; we’ll figure this out. But first things first. I’ll order that X-ray, and someone will be with you in a bit to take you up to radiology. As soon as I get a chance to look at the results I’ll come back here and tell you what we’ve found.”

She made some notes on the chart, then left them staring at each other.

“ ‘What we’ve found’ — she didn’t tack on an ‘if anything.’ “ Savannah lay back again.

“Noises in the lungs — that could just be pneumonia. Walking pneumonia, maybe.”

“That’s pretty common, though. Dr. Helms would have picked that up. And my ankles … what on earth would cause that?”

They both fell silent, staring once again at the activity outside their little room. Savannah tried not to let her imagination run wild, but it was an exercise in futility. She thanked the nurse with more gusto than necessary when they were finally taken up to radiology; she was grateful for the change of scenery and another new experience to keep her mind occupied.

By the time they got back down to the ER—and placed in a curtain-walled cubicle room, which did nothing to calm her anxiety since now the noises and drama of the place were more easily heard— Shaun was looking almost worse than Savannah felt. “Honey, you need to get something to eat, or … something. Coffee—go get yourself some coffee. It’s past ten o’clock; who knows how much longer we’re going to be here.”

“I don’t want to leave in case the doctor comes back.”

“I promise I’ll make her wait until you’re back. Seriously, they’re going to think you’re the one that’s sick pretty soon.”

He gave her a weak smile, then reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I love you, Van.”

“I love you, too. Don’t get all emotional on me, Shaun. I won’t be able to take it.”

He chuckled and stood, kissing her hand once more. “Alright, alright. Make sure she waits for me.”

“I promise.”

It turned out there was no need; it took another hour before Dr. Rockwell came back. When Shaun roused Savannah from her nap to hear the news, the dull ache of too little sleep pulsed in every muscle. She prayed she’d be able to rest again soon.

The look of tension in Shaun’s face was at odds with the gentle way he clasped her hand. Savannah was grateful for his strength; she didn’t know how she’d make it otherwise. “So what’s the story, doctor?” he asked. “Do you have any theories?”

“I do, yes. And I think it was a very good thing you came in tonight.” Dr. Rockwell uploaded the X-rays onto the computer beside the bed and took out her pen. She used it to point to the hazy image of Savannah’s lungs. “You can see the somewhat cloudy appearance of the lungs here — as though the film didn’t develop all the way. That’s called pulmonary edema, which basically means fluid in the lungs.” Then she traced a bulbous shape that ballooned out to the right from the center of the chest. “This is your heart. A healthy heart would only come out to here or so—” She indicated a space about half an inch closer to the center. “Yours is enlarged.”

Savannah felt like the breath was pulled from her lungs. She fought out the words. “Enlarged heart?”

“So what does all that mean?” Shaun’s voice belied his fear, as did the way his hand tightened on hers.

“I believe we’re looking at heart failure.”

Savannah almost laughed. “Heart failure? I’m the healthiest person I know. How is that possible? It can’t be right. Right, Shaun?”

Shaun’s eyes never left the doctor. “You can fix this, right? What do we do now?”

“We’re going to admit you for an echocardiogram and a cardiology consult. But I’m encouraged by the fact that you’re still as active and alert as you are. I think we caught this just in the nick of time.”

T
HE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS WERE
like a roller coaster that only went down.

It was past midnight when she was finally brought up to the room. She insisted Shaun go home and sleep since the night nurse assured her nothing else would be done until the morning. “I’ll call you as soon as they tell me when things will get going again.”

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re here alone.”

“You’re exhausted. You’ll sleep. Believe me. You definitely won’t if you’re here, at least not well. Better chances in your own bed. Just go.”

She slept on and off, woken frequently by unfamiliar noises, vitals checks by the night nurse, and runaway dreams that left her breathless when she woke. Her breakfast was brought in at seven-thirty, and she gave up trying to sleep after that.

In the new semi-private room—which she shared with a woman whose heart monitor beep drove Savannah batty—the television with limited channels was her only source of entertainment, and nothing on the airwaves was interesting enough to hold her attention for long. As a result, her thoughts ran wild, dreaming up scenarios that all ended with her wishing she had pen and paper to write down her wishes for her funeral. She felt worse than she had when they’d first arrived in the ER. True fear was starting to set in.

She was taken after breakfast to the echo lab, Shaun arriving just minutes before the appointment, and underwent the echocardiogram. After that it was back to her room, where Shaun settled in to the chair beside her bed with a book and Savannah tried to take a nap. It was a pointless attempt—her keyed-up nerves were enough to override her exhaustion.

“Jessie wanted to know if she should come,” he said out of nowhere.

“What did you tell her?”

“That we would let her know when we found out anything, but that she didn’t need to come unless she really wanted to.”

“When does she leave for school again?”

Shaun thought a moment. “The 27th.”

“She’s got a lot on her plate with work and getting ready for the next semester. No sense in her wasting time here. Besides, anytime you visit someone in the hospital they always look worse than they really are. I wouldn’t want her getting scared when things aren’t really that bad.”

“Aren’t that bad?”

She kept her eyes to the ceiling. “I’m working on positive thinking.” She sighed and looked to the window, but the sunlight that snuck in through the cracks between the curtains and the walls hurt her eyes. “I should have asked you to bring my Bible.”

“Want me to find you one?”

“Would you?”

“Of course. I’m sure we’ve got one in the car. Give me a minute.”

He returned a bit later with a flimsy paperback version that had seen better days. “I should have thought of that when I came this morning. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m not really in the mood to read. I wanted it more for the comfort.” She held it in her hands and frowned, disappointed. The unfamiliar feel of the cover couldn’t compare with the soft, worn leather of her personal Bible. She flipped to the Psalms and let her eyes skim the page until they caught a familiar verse:

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God,

for I will yet praise him,

my Savior and my God.

She had written out those lines after her first miscarriage and taped them to the bathroom mirror. The verse had still been there when she’d had her second miscarriage, but sometime in the years after she’d removed it; the paper had curled from shower humidity and the words were ingrained on her heart and memory. Why hadn’t they come to mind during the last two weeks?

A disturbing thought came to her as she stared at the Scripture. She hadn’t prayed once—besides the brief and panicky, “Dear God, don’t let my heart go out!” after seeing the X-ray — since coming to the ER. Shaun hadn’t even suggested they pray together.

What had happened to her faith?

Like a panoramic movie, the last ten years of her life scrolled through her mind, revealing the incremental decline of her spiritual life. She saw herself on stages across the country, at the head of endless lines of fans wanting her signature in their books, at planning meetings and publisher meetings and marketing meetings. She didn’t see herself in church, or hidden away in prayer, or reading Scripture. She’d become a businesswoman for God, selling the promise of a meaningful life and cashing in on the desperate longings of harried mothers who wondered if their existence amounted to anything more than carpool schedules and menu planning to stretch a buck.