The Still of Night (44 page)
And another one on pain.
Dear Jeremy,
The bone tap hurts, but if you know the people are trying to help
you, the pain is not so bad. Each procedure is a battle that requires
courage. You are only a little soldier, but I know you can be brave.
Trust in Jesus.Jesus loves you and so do I. Kelsey
She was so tired. She had not managed any food or drink by mouth, only the ever-present IV fluids. Her progress would be measured in part by her ability to take nourishment, but nothing would stay down, and if it did, it only caused more trouble in her intestines. Nor had she been out of bed yet. Tomorrow she would try to walk, but now she was just too tired. The stationary bike across the room was a joke, she was sure.
She drew a slow breath. She would just rest a little, then answer the others. Tomorrow she would have more energy. She wanted to write to Jill, though, since she hadn’t for a while. Maybe that much she could manage.
For the third night since returning home, Jill checked her e-mail for a message from Kelsey. She didn’t expect the child to write every night, but she didn’t want to miss one if she did. And all the other messages became insignificant the moment she noticed Kelsey’s. Plus there was the added excitement of sometimes finding Kelsey online.
Most of the time, as soon as she sent a reply, Kelsey came back with an instant response. The child must use her computer a lot, or maybe she kept it online to answer whenever something came in. Jill wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to hope too much. But the truth was she could not get enough of this remarkable girl she and Morgan had created, and Cinda and Roger had raised.
It was all she went on these days, as the ache for Morgan howled at her mind, demanding entrance when she knew she could not stand it again. If she had known how hard it would be to leave him, she would never have gone out there. Not even to be part of Kelsey’s rescue. She had this relationship with Kelsey already. Yet she had allowed the wolf that devoured her joy back in.
Wasn’t it her mission to find joy, to demonstrate it, to live in victory so others could see the benefit of Christ? She had accepted that challenge, taking Shelly’s words to heart—and proceeded to lose everything she found purpose in. She missed her kids. She had gone by the school briefly, but the moment the kids saw her they began acting out, destroying order for the new teacher, Don Daley, who, according to Ed Fogarty, had done marvelously so far. She couldn’t help that they didn’t understand why she had abandoned them, or that they wanted the connection back. Don might be the nicest man alive, but she and her kids had history.
Soon she would be back, planning for next year under Pam’s direction, and fighting for her job when every wrong turn would be celebrated by Ed Fogarty and gleefully added to her employment folder. It would probably be easier to give up the job and look elsewhere. But there were Angelica and Joey and Sammi … the others who needed the silent prayers and many hugs she offered.
She sighed. She could let it go for at least a few moments if there was a note from Kelsey. Just thoughts of Kelsey were balm, filled with so much hope. Her daughter deserved a miracle. And Jesus loved her so much. It came through everything Kelsey said. Jill had never known anyone so intimate with her Savior. She had a quick breath of anticipation as Kelsey’s e-mail came up. Jill bit her lip on a smile, wondering if Kelsey knew how these letters sustained her.
Hi, Jill. I now know what a stock animal feels like sitting in a stall all
day. But isolation is not too bad when you can barely lift your fingers. I
guess I spoke too soon. The doctors said I’m crashing, but not to be alarmed because it’s expected. I guess words like crash are no longer alarming, not compared to fail or die. They also said I exhibited signs of veno-occlusive disease, VOD, during treatment before transplant. It’s about the blood vessels to my liver. So they’re watching very closely for lovely yellow eyes and skin. If I swell up like a balloon, they know I have it
.
Jill tried not to picture Kelsey with either symptom. But her daughter’s tone was definitely less upbeat.
I’m trying not to be discouraged. I have so much to be thankful for. I’ve been answering the letters on my Web page. I get so many now, and some
of the kids have become good friends even though we’ve never met. But lots
of them are frightened and angry, and I want so much for them to know
about Jesus, and how His love casts out fear. His love is like breath to me
.
Jill’s own breath caught. To have such a love, such a deep sense of her Lord.
And that brings up why I really wanted to write. Please don’t think I’m weird like a prophet or anything, but I was praying for Morgan the way you asked me to, and I realized that even though Jesus loves him so much, Morgan doesn’t know it. Or believe it or something. And then I got this idea like there was something in his life that kept him from knowing that love. So
I was praying against it, and I just knew God wanted me to pray for him to get sick
.
Jill reread the sentence, but Kelsey had actually said what she thought.
I told Jesus I could not do that. Not after Morgan did so much to help me get well. That would not be fair or nice. But He said, “Do you trust me?” And I said yes. Then He said, “Do my will.” I know this sounds really crazy, but I have to obey. Jesus really wants me to pray that prayer even though I don’t know why. Could you please tell me if you understand? Kelsey
Jill stared at the screen, making certain she understood what Kelsey had said, but there didn’t seem to be any doubt. Kelsey was praying for Morgan to get sick. Jill pictured him sick all too easily, after seeing him hobbling in pain, then drunk and hung over. Why would Jesus want him worse off than he already was?
Lord?
She typed,
Kelsey, I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer. I don’t know why Jesus would want that prayer when we’ve been praying for healing. It doesn’t make sense. But I do know that God’s ways are above ours, and there have been so many things I didn’t think were right, and then they
turned out to be perfect. If you know that’s what the Lord wants of you, then I agree you have to do it
.
A pang of remorse and serious betrayal stung her. She did not want Morgan to suffer more than he had. How could she condone her agreement? She should tell Kelsey no, she must have heard wrong. Pray for healing. And if Kelsey prayed for him to be sick, and she prayed for him to be healed, weren’t they at cross-purposes? Would God contradict himself?
Just be certain you heard right. And I don’t think you’re weird at all; I
think you’re wonderful. And so does Morgan
.
But would he if he’d read this e-mail over her shoulder? Jill closed her eyes, remembering his hands on her shoulders, the ache in his eyes as he spoke with Kelsey and heard her voice. What if she’d said, “God wants me to pray for you to get sick.” How on earth could he answer that?
Jill sent her answer and prayed she had not just made another mistake. When no answer came back, she squelched the flicker of disap
pointment. With Kelsey so weary, Jill was thankful she’d taken the time to write at all. She would trust the response, though she questioned everything these days. Prayer was coming easily, but understanding was slow. She’d had more misfortune this past month than since the last time her life fell apart. If this meant another fifteen years of misery, she was not sure she would handle that gracefully. She could take lessons from her daughter. But, then, who couldn’t?
T
wo weeks of preliminary action with Ascon had actually proved both productive and enjoyable. Marlina Aster was not the snob she’d at first appeared. In fact, she’d been quite cordial, and at the end, provocative. Morgan’s mouth quirked. Marlina was not used to having her invitations refused. But a scrupulous professionalism seemed to be his current mode.
He turned the Corvette into the garage and parked. No Juan to carry his bags, so he unloaded his own power suits, shirts, and ties. Even Consuela had conceded it was better that way, though she did send a portion of her income to Juan in Tijuana to try to keep him from provoking the
federales
. Morgan shook his head. He was willing to give anyone a chance, but some people wanted more than a chance. Juan wanted a free ride.
He hung his suits in the walk-in closet and turned at Consuela’s knock on the open bedroom door. “Hello, Consuela. How’s the world?”
“Eh?” She shook her head. “Your world or the rest of it?”
“Let’s start with mine.”
“Are you staying home tonight?” She put both hands to her hips.
“I am.”
“Then I’ll start your supper.”
Morgan nodded. “You do that.”
“You want something special?”
“Anything you make is special.” He was easy tonight. Working hard and applying himself, not to mention attacking a problem and projecting viable solutions, had unshackled his tension like nothing else. He had two weeks free while Ascon made adjustments, then he’d assemble a team and go back in.
“Señorita Fisher is waiting.”
“I’ll see Denise in a moment.”
“She wanted me to tell you.”
He had sneaked inside to unpack before Denise laid the new load on him, one of the drawbacks of a home office and an overzealous personal manager. “Yes, Consuela. I’m on my way.”
“I will unpack your things.”
“Thank you.” With a sigh, Morgan left her and went down to Denise.
She stood up from her desk as he entered the office, always preferring to address him eye to eye. “Welcome back. Ascon went well?”
“Very well.”
With hardly a breath between, she outlined her past two weeks, and all the things he had not addressed via e-mail, and the things requiring his personal attention. As usual he had driven her crazy.
“Thank you, Denise. Efficient as always.”
“Explain again why it’s impossible to answer your e-mail while on assignment.”
That dance again. “You know the answer, Denise. On the initial consult I don’t want to be distracted, nothing cluttering my focus. Other concerns take my mind from the issues at hand. I put one hundred percent into that first thrust.”
She slid her gaze to the side, unimpressed. “It would help to know when you’re returning.”
He had left it open ended as he always did when he hit the road, a habit that irked Denise to no end. Morgan picked up the sundry envelopes from his desk. “Then I’d be held to a timetable. Allow me my nonconformity. It’s why I work for myself.” And not for her, though she tended to forget that.
She amped down a notch. “Will you at least reply to Malta Systems? That’s a very good opportunity, and one which—”
“I’ll do that first thing tomorrow. You’ve had a long day. Why don’t you call it quits?” He booted the computer to show his good faith and went into his mail, quick-scanning for anything Denise might consider life or death. Jill’s name flashed. His heart skipped, then ached. Why would she write?
He glanced up as Denise slipped her purse over her shoulder and stopped at the door. “And the—”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
She pursed her lips. “Morgan, sometimes I wonder if it’s healthy working for you.”
“I pay well for your aggravation.” Not to mention a roof over her head and relative safety from far less healthy situations.
“That’s exactly why I’m still here. That, and how much you truly need me.” It might have been a joke from anyone else. But believing that was essential for Denise.
“No argument.” He smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He was already opening Jill’s message.
Dear Morgan,
I heard from Cinda this morning and thought you might appreciate an update now and then. She said the doctors are concerned
over several aspects, but generally optimistic, whatever that means.
The danger of infection is the main concern, so Kelsey is isolated.
She did develop an initial fever, which they anticipated, but they were
able to control it with antibiotics. It’s too early to know how well the
marrow is engrafting, but the immunosuppressive drugs are causing
some side effects. Cinda didn’t go into detail.I just read what I’ve written and it sounds so clinical. But, Morgan, I spoke with Kelsey for a few moments, and she’s so brave,
though mouth sores made it painful for her to speak. She tried to be
cheerful and even made jokes. What a spirit she has.Are you well? I’ll write with anything new,
Jill
P.S. You promised her a picture. If you send it to me, I’ll see she
gets it
.
Morgan jolted. How could he have forgotten? The one thing his daughter asked! He wasn’t used to it. After the frustration of meeting with Bern, he’d plunged into Ascon in his normal unidirectional mode, forcing everything else out.
He left all the other messages unread and headed upstairs. Where were his photos? “Consuela.” He stopped in the kitchen. “Where do I keep photos?”
“The library.”
He turned back to the room he had just left, then entered the library. Jill’s message was more than a week old. Maybe Denise had a point. But then so did he. He would have thought of nothing else. Just over two weeks since she’d left. He wished he didn’t recall so clearly the look on her face when he announced her morning flight. It had been abrupt and unkind, the arrangements made the day before in anger. And he’d regretted it as soon as he left the airport. What would a few more days have hurt?
He pulled open the lower doors of the whitewashed maple cabinet and found a box with loose photos. Most were places around the world. Some included him, but not many were close up, and quite a few had one woman or another included. Just people he’d met along the way. He wasn’t even sure he could name them.
He pushed the box back into the shelf and reached for an album from the lowest shelf. He opened it. The photos were too old to send Kelsey, but he remembered what was on the second page and turned it. His throat tightened when Jill smiled out at him, crowned and jubilant.
