by Nan Rossiter
“What do you think of these two rascals, Harper?” he asked, and Harper nodded approvingly. “Macey tells me you’re a dog lover, too. . . . Is that true?” Harper nodded again, and he smiled. Then, out of the blue and without prodding or invitation, she ran into his arms and gave him a hug.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said softly, looking up at Macey and winking, but she just shook her head and laughed—Harper was full of surprises!
They heard Gage and Ben coming through the kitchen door, and then Ben calling out, “Mace, where do you want all this food?”
“It’s piping hot,” Ruth called from behind them. “If the turkey’s ready, we can just eat.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom,” Macey said, coming into the kitchen and giving her a hug. “The turkey is ready, but I still have to make gravy, so we’ll just keep everything warm in the oven for a few minutes, is that okay?”
The petite silver-haired woman looked dismayed. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.
“Relax, Mom, it’ll still be hot,” her daughter assured her.
Ruth nodded, and then realized Harper was watching and tried to make light of it. “Don’t mind me, Harper!” she said, giving her a hug, “I just like my food hot!” She laughed at her own eccentricity. “Happy Thanksgiving! How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Harper answered softly.
Maeve brought Gage over. “Harper, this is my boyfriend, Gage.”
Harper nodded, studying Gage’s boyish face and blue eyes as she politely shook his hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Gage said. “Maeve tells me you’re quite the artist.”
She nodded.
“I’d love to see your artwork sometime.”
“Okay,” she said, a smile lighting her face.
“Gage likes to draw, too,” Maeve explained.
Harper nodded, her hand resting on Keeper’s head. “I can go get some right now, if you want,” she offered hopefully.
“That would be awesome,” Gage said.
“Okay! I’ll be right back,” she said. “Keep, you stay here,” she added, gesturing with her hand, and then hurrying excitedly up the stairs. When she got to her room, though, she could barely catch her breath.
“Go away,” she pleaded, leaning against the door and rubbing her chest with her fist as tears filled her eyes.
“Please, go away,” she begged. “I don’t want to have surgery . . . I don’t want some stranger’s heart.”
A few minutes later, Maeve called up the stairs. “We’re having snacks, Harp. You coming back down?”
Harper wiped her eyes. “Yes,” she called back. “I’ll be right there.”
THAT EVENING, AFTER THE LEFTOVERS HAD BEEN DIVIDED UP AND SENT home with Hal and Ruth, and Gage and Maeve, Harper curled up on the couch between Ben and Macey to watch an old movie—a favorite of Macey’s, but one Harper had never seen.
“Hey, they’re just like us when Gus is here,” Harper said after the movie started, nodding in the direction of Big Mac and Keeper, who were curled up together in front of the fireplace.
“It is just like us,” Macey agreed.
“Except, I don’t know if Keep could make such a long journey on three legs,” Ben mused, standing up to add another log to the fire.
“I think he could,” Macey said.
“Maybe,” Ben said, still sounding skeptical. He sat down and lay his arm along the back of the couch.
Macey had always loved the movie, Homeward Bound, about two dogs and a cat making a long journey home, and she’d often dreamed about sharing it with her own kids someday, but as she watched it now, with Harper, she found it hard to focus on the screen. She found herself listening to the little girl’s laughter during the funny scenes and feeling surprise when her small hand gripped hers during the scary ones. As the movie reached its climactic end, Macey was pulled back to the present, though, by the sound of the hapless dog, Chance, shouting, “Turkey! Turkey! Turkey!” and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“What do you think, Harp?” Ben asked. “Could Keep make a journey like that?”
“Definitely,” she said. “He loves us too much to give up!”
Macey smiled. “Having love like that is probably what got him through having surgery and learning to get around on three legs.”
Harper nodded thoughtfully and then wrapped her arms around his neck. “Is that true, Keep?” she asked, and the big dog swished his tail and then gently pushed his noble head into her chest, making her laugh.
57
“GOOD MORNING, CLASS!” MRS. HOLLAND CALLED CHEERILY, SWEEPING into the classroom. “Since it’s such a nice day out . . . and the last day before our winter break, you can leave your jackets on because we’re going outside to explore the beach. Let’s see what treasures the tide washed up this week, and maybe we’ll even see a sea turtle. Then we’re going to come back in and write about the things we’ve discovered.”
Harper could hardly believe her ears! She hung up her backpack and then traipsed out into the sunshine with Sam. “I can’t believe we’re having class on the beach!”
“Yeah, we do this sometimes,” Sam said, grinning.
“Remember not to get too close to the water,” Mrs. Holland reminded as they walked along the sand, looking for anything that might be of interest. Suddenly, Harper spied a large sun-bleached shell with a long tail. “I found something!” she shouted, and everyone hurried over.
“Nice!” Mrs. Holland said, nodding. “Does anyone know what it is?”
“It’s a horseshoe crab,” Sam said.
“It is indeed,” agreed Mrs. Holland. “Horseshoe crabs have been around for a very long time. Anyone care to guess how long?”
“A thousand years?” Sam offered.
“More than that! Someone recently discovered a fossil in Manitoba, Canada, that proved the ancestors of horseshoe crabs, like this one, have been around for four hundred forty-five million years!”
“No way!” Jon said.
“Way!” Mrs. Holland said. “Unbelievable, right? And not only that, but they aren’t really crabs . . . they’re chelicerates. Can you say that?”
“Che-lic-er-ates,” the class repeated dutifully.
“Very good,” Mrs. Holland said with a smile. “Crabs and other crustaceans have antennae, but this critter, as you can see, does not, but he does have all these cool eyes,” she added, pointing to the different spots on the shell. “Horseshoe crabs are arthropods, so they don’t have white blood cells—like we do—to fight infection. They have blue blood—”
“Blue blood?!” Sam interrupted.
“Yes, blue blood that’s filled with amebocytes, which fight bacteria in their own way—they release a gooey substance that surrounds and blocks germs from spreading.”
“Wow! That’s so cool!” Cara said.
“It is really cool, Cara, because way back when scientists discovered this, they started using the amebocytes from horseshoe crabs’ blood to make sure vaccines and other injectable medicines were safe for humans. If the amebocytes started to release the goo, scientists knew the injectable medicine wasn’t safe and they had to go back to the drawing board. Today, the test is mandatory for any medicine that is injected with a needle.”
“So anytime we get a shot, it’s been tested with horseshoe crab blood?” Sam asked.
“It has,” Mrs. Holland said, nodding.
“Is that a stinger?” Harper asked, pointing to its tail.
“Good question, Harper,” Mrs. Holland said, “That tail looks like it would really hurt, doesn’t it? But it’s not a stinger. Its purpose is to help the horseshoe crab steer—like a rudder—or turn itself over if it gets turned upside down.”
Sam touched the shell with the toe of his sneaker. “Is it dead?”
“Another great question!” Mrs. Holland said, gently turning the shell over. “It is not dead. It’s just empty . . . which might make you wonder if there’s a horseshoe crab now running around the ocean floor, naked.”
At this, they all giggled.
“But, no worries!” she continued. “This empty shell is called a molt. As a horseshoe crab grows and matures, it also grows a new bigger shell, and when it’s ready and solid, it sheds—or molts—its old shell. That shell is also called an exoskeleton, and because they just get left behind, light and empty, on the ocean floor, they often wash up on the beach. So it’s not just kiddos like you who outgrow their clothes . . . horseshoe crabs get new outfits, too!”
“Cool!” Sam said.
“Very cool,” Mrs. Holland agreed. “When we get back to the classroom, I’ll show you a video of an actual horseshoe crab molting.” She picked up the shell and put it in her basket. “We’ll take this back in case anyone wants to draw it in their journal.”
“Let’s keep looking!” Sam shouted, and everyone hurried off, looking for more treasures.
Harper lingered, though. “I’d love to draw it,” she said softly.
Mrs. Holland put her arm around her. “And I’m sure you will do a wonderful job! But first, are you going to go find us another great treasure?”
Harper nodded and hurried after the other kids.
An hour later—after sitting in a circle and discussing their discoveries: another horseshoe crab molt, a spider crab that was very much alive and skittering down the beach, several sand dollars, three whelk shells, ten hermit crabs, and a striped burrfish puffer—they tromped back toward the school.
“Mr. Fielding is going to love us for bringing half the beach back!” Mrs. Holland said, stomping the sand off her feet and looking at her small troupe of kids. She started counting heads—“Fourteen, fifteen”—frowned, and counted again. “Where’s Harper?”
Sam turned around in surprise. “She was right next to me. . . .”
Mrs. Holland’s eyes grew wide as she tried to decide whether to have the kids help her look for Harper or send them inside. “Okay,” she said, trying to calm her voice. “I’d like you guys to walk back to the classroom.” She turned to Sam. “Sam, would you please run to the office and tell them I need some help on the beach?”
“Mrs. Holland, do you want us to help?” a chorus of voices asked.
“No,” she said firmly. “I want you to head directly inside.”
“Ohh,” they moaned.
“Go along! And Sam, please hurry!”
“Harper!” Mrs. Holland called as she ran back to the beach, scanning the waves. Her biggest fear, anytime she brought her class to the beach, was the water, but all she saw were snow-white seagulls bobbing up and down. “Harper!” she called again and again, running back along the way they’d come. Over the sound of the surf, she heard a faint cry and turned to see the little girl curled up on the sand. “Oh no!” she cried, kneeling next to her. “Harper, what’s wrong?”
Harper moaned. “I thought if I sat down, I’d feel better, but it only got worse.”
“What got worse?”
“My chest—it hurts so much.”
Mrs. Holland pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed 911.
“I didn’t want anything to go wrong,” Harper whispered, trying to catch her breath as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please don’t let me die . . .”
While Mrs. Holland spoke to a dispatcher, she saw two of her colleagues running down the beach. She waved and they hurried over, but when they tried to help Harper sit up, she cried out, so Mr. Matheson, the gym teacher, raced back to show the ambulance where they were while Ms. Fisher held Harper’s hand.
Within minutes, the ambulance screamed into the parking lot and the kids in Mrs. Holland’s class all rushed to the window to watch the commotion. After several minutes, a stretcher was loaded into the back.
“Do you think she’s okay?” Sam asked as the ambulance sped away with its lights and siren blaring.
“I don’t know,” Cara said. “The ambulance is hurrying, so she must be alive.”
“I hope you’re right,” Sam whispered.
58
“MACEY, CALL FOR YOU ON TWO,” MARILYN SAID, PEEKING AROUND THE staff room door. “It’s the school.”
“Uh-oh, Mace, now the fun begins,” Melissa teased. “When you’re a mom, you’re always on call!”
“I’m ready,” Macey said, smiling as she picked up the phone.
“Hi, this is Macey . . . ,” she said, and then the color drained from her face. “I’ll be right there.” She hung up the phone, her hands shaking. “Harper had a problem at school and they’ve rushed her to the hospital! I . . . I have to go!”
“Of course!” Melissa said, suddenly feeling terrible for teasing her.
Dr. Hack—who’d heard the news from the hall—looked in. “Did they say anything else?”
“They said she was having chest pains, and the ambulance was taking her to the Heart Hospital at St. Joe’s.”
“Okay . . . well, let us know as soon as you can.”
Macey nodded as she grabbed her things. “Okay, thank you!”
She ran to her car, her heart pounding, and called Ben. He heard the panic in her voice and told her he’d meet her there.
Macey looked up at the bright blue December sky. “Why, God? Why is this happening?!” she railed. “Is this poor child doomed, just like all my other babies? Why are you doing this to us? Do you think you could cut her . . . and us a break? If anything happens to her, it’ll be the last time you’ll ever hear from me. We stuck our necks out to bring her into our hearts and our home, and if anything happens, we are through!” Tears filled her eyes. “Please don’t let anything happen to her. Please let her be okay . . .” She wiped her eyes and tried to focus on the road.
Ten minutes later, she ran through the emergency room doors and found Cora already waiting.
Cora stood up as soon as she saw Macey and hurried over to give her a hug. “The hospital called me because I’m still the only one on her paperwork. Oh, Macey, I’m so sorry I let you get into this! All you need is more worries and heartache.”
Macey shook her head. “Don’t be sorry, Cora. We are in this because we want to be, but I have more than a few choice words for God.”
“I know, baby. I have a few choice words for him, too . . . and trust me, he hears us.”
“Do you know anything? Have you seen her?”
Cora shook her head. “No, I just got here, and when I spoke to the lady in admitting, she said they are still trying to stabilize her, and a doctor will come out as soon as we can see her.”
Just then, Ben came through the doors and Macey waved. “Any news?” he asked, hurrying over. Macey told him the little they knew and he looked around, half expecting to see a doctor appear. “What did the school say?”
“Just that she was having chest pains, but she was able to tell them what was wrong.”
Ben nodded and started to pace—something he always did when he was stressed or didn’t feel well. “Why don’t you sit down,” Macey suggested, and he nodded distractedly and sat next to her, but a moment later, he was up again, and Macey knew it was no use. She looked over at Cora and realized her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving—she was praying. Macey looked around the waiting room—it was decorated for Christmas. She’d been looking forward to celebrating the holidays with Harper—she and Ben had already bought several gifts, including a basic laptop for her to use in school, but now, she just wanted her to be okay.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doors to the hallway swung open and a young doctor came out. He stopped briefly at admissions and then looked in their direction. “Cora Grant?”
Cora opened her eyes and stood. “I’m here,” she called. He walked over and Cora quickly introduced Macey and Ben as Harper’s foster parents.
“How is she?” Macey asked anxiously.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Harper is in critical condition. While she was in the ambulance, she went into cardiac arrest, but the paramedics administered CPR, and as soon as we got her in, we used the defibrillat
or. Thankfully, her heart responded. She’s a real trouper.”
“She is that,” Cora said, nodding and smiling.
“We know she has a weak heart, but we’re not sure what brought this on. She was supposed to be avoiding stressful situations.” He looked from Macey to Cora. “Has anything happened that might have added to her stress?”
Cora sighed. “What hasn’t happened to that poor child? She ran away, was missing for a couple of days. She found a new home with these good people,” she said, motioning to Ben and Macey, “and recently started a new school—it seemed to be going well, but that’s a lot of change all at once.”
The doctor nodded. “That could do it,” he said. “With her condition, she needs to be in a stable environment, and she needs to take it easy.”
Macey spoke up. “Our home is a stable environment, but every time I ask her how she feels, she says she feels fine.”
The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “It’s possible she hasn’t been completely forthcoming. Do you think she’s frightened by the idea of having surgery?”
Macey and Ben looked at each other. “I guess it’s possible,” he said. “We really haven’t talked about it with her.”
The doctor nodded. “It’s hard to know what’s going on in a little kid’s head—she might be trying to avoid surgery, especially if she doesn’t really understand. Anyway, we’re going to do more tests, but I’m also going to recommend she be moved up on the transplant list. That way, when a heart does become available, we will be able to move forward. If we wait, and she gets weaker, we might lose the opportunity. We will also have to do a better job of making sure she understands what is happening so she feels safe—stress on a fragile heart is one of the worst things.”
Macey and Ben could barely believe what they were hearing. Ben looked over, saw tears welling up in Macey’s eyes, and reached for her hand. The doctor saw her tears, too. “How long have you been Harper’s foster parents?”
