by Lisa Mills
Danielle breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for a momentary reprieve in the empty living room. She sagged into a chair, holding a hand against her chest to still the thumping there. The first big hurdle was behind her. They hadn’t slammed the door in her face. Now, she just had to find a way to present her request.
Drawing a cleansing breath, she scanned the room. The furniture and rugs were the same. Heavy moldings lined the floor and ceiling, and surrounded each window, weighting down the room. The lemony tang of furniture polish thickened the air and made it hard to breathe. Or maybe the memories pressing in all around her constricted her lungs and put a knot in her throat. Eight years hadn’t been nearly long enough to forget the past.
“Honey, dinner’s on the table. Come sit with us.”
The smell of pot roast drifted into the room, stirring Danielle’s stomach. She’d had peanut butter sandwiches for her last four meals, trying to save money on the road. A hearty meal would satisfy her need for more substantial food and give her time to think about how to tell her parents about Trevor. Just the thought of bringing him up made her stomach flutter. The last conversation they’d had about Trevor had ended in a huge fight and years of estrangement. She had little hope that today’s talk would go any better, but for his sake she would try. Pushing to her feet, she made her way to the dining room.
Nothing had changed in that room either. The old oak table dominated the space, sturdy but scarred from years of hard use. It had belonged to her mother’s parents before Danielle’s family inherited it. White linen place mats, the edges embroidered with red and orange tulips and a winding leafy vine, marked each place. Danielle took her seat—the one she’d occupied for the eighteen years she’d lived at home—and arranged a napkin on her lap. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. She felt like a stranger, but in a place that was as familiar to her as her own face. The disparity was unsettling.
Steaming bowls of vegetables and a platter of meat perched in the center of the table. Her mother entered the room with a basket of bread rolls and added them to the mix. Danielle gauged the amount of food and decided it would easily feed six. Had her mother cooked all of this for two people?
“We’ll say grace,” her father announced. He rattled off the standard prayer he’d said over meals for years, showing neither innovation nor passion in his benediction. Danielle studied him while he prayed. His face had filled out, giving him heavy jowls, and the buttons on his shirt strained against the thickness of his waistline. His hair was a little more salt than pepper and frown lines had carved deep grooves in his forehead and around his mouth. He looked older, but not weaker.
After the amen, her mother selected a bowl of green beans and passed them to Danielle. “I have so many questions I want to ask you, I hardly know where to begin,” she said, almost shyly.
Danielle spooned a few beans onto her plate, then handed the bowl off to her father, careful to avoid his gaze.
“Where do you live now? What do you do for a living?” Her mother made an awkward sound, something like a laugh, but without any happiness in it. “A mother should know these things. It’s strange to have to ask.”
You wouldn’t have to ask if you hadn’t kicked me out. Danielle clamped down on the sudden rise of anger she felt, gritting her teeth to hold back the biting comments and accusations that sprang to her lips. She was not here to confront them about the wrongs they’d done her. She only wanted their cooperation for Trevor’s sake.
When she was certain she could trust herself to speak calmly, she answered, “I live in Florida, in the Panhandle. I’m a graphic designer by trade.” Her answer was short but she didn’t have any desire to elaborate. Making pleasant conversation required more energy than she had to expend at the moment.
Thankfully, her mother took the reins of the conversation. “A graphic designer. That’s making printed material, isn’t it? I think Mary Chippewa’s son does that at Franklin Press.” She began a recitation of all of young Mr. Chippewa’s virtues, including his high moral standards, his devotion to his parents, and his very consistent church attendance.
In other words, everything I lack. Leave it to her mother to work a few digs into her monologue. Karen Jordan never said anything overtly critical—that would be unChristian of her—but she’d mastered the art of not saying what she was thinking. The message was just as clear as if she’d handed over a signed statement complete with a bullet-point list of a person’s flaws and shortcomings. In another setting, Danielle might have told her to keep her opinions to herself, but if her mother stopped talking, Danielle might be required to participate in the dinner conversation. She let her ramble and tuned her out.
Silence blared from the other end of the table. In contrast to her mother’s incessant chatter, her father hadn’t said a word since the amen. She worked up enough nerve to look at him and tried to gauge his mood. His gaze was fixed on his plate, his expression blank as he shoveled big bites of food into his mouth and chewed with a vengeance. He seemed determined to ignore her. Not that she minded.
“Would you like another roll?”
Danielle’s mother held out the basket of bread.
“No, thank you. I’m already getting full.”
“Are you in town for business? How long are you staying?”
“Just here for a day or two, Mom. I need to get back home.”
“Oh.” She looked crestfallen. “I was hoping we might have more time to catch up. Maybe you’d consider visiting us. You could take your vacation here. We have two empty bedrooms now that you kids are gone.”
Her father dropped his silverware onto his empty plate with a loud clatter, and pushed back from the table. He grumbled something under his breath that Danielle didn’t quite make out.
“Are you leaving us?” her mother asked. “I have apple cobbler for dessert.”
Her father didn’t break stride. “I’ll take mine in the office. Have to work on my lesson.” He strolled out of the room without sparing a glance for Danielle.
Danielle’s mother opened her mouth as if to protest, then must have thought better of it. She turned back to the table and forked a bite of roast. “Pastor is out of town next week. Your father is leading the Wednesday night Bible study. He takes his teaching very seriously.” She smiled as if that excused his rudeness and lack of interest in his only daughter.
Danielle didn’t need the excuses. She didn’t mind his absence. The tension level in the room lightened by half.
She hurriedly scooped the last few bites of her meal into her mouth, not wanting to prolong this miserable experience any longer than she needed to. When she lay her silverware across her empty plate, her mother pushed her plate away too. “I’ll just clear the table, then we’ll have some cobbler.”
Danielle rose and scooped up her plate and one of the serving bowls. As she followed her mom into the kitchen, she noticed more of the physical changes.
Mother had filled out where women do—in the hips, the upper arms and under the chin. If they’d been eating meals like this one frequently, Danielle could understand why she’d gained a few pounds. But then age had to factor in. She did the math quickly in her head. If she was twenty-six, then her mother was forty-nine. She looked a little older than her years.
“Would you mind starting a pot of coffee while I put the food away?”
“Sure.” Danielle turned to the coffee maker and put in a new filter and few scoops of ground coffee from the can sitting beside the machine. As she carried the carafe to the sink to fill it with water, her mother caught her eye.
“So you drove here from Florida and you’re heading back right away? That’s a short stay for such a long drive.”
Danielle’s mouth went dry as the opening she’d been waiting for presented itself. “Mom, truth is I didn’t come here for a visit. I need to ask a favor.”
The older woman paused, hands cradling a plastic container of leftovers. “Yes?”
“My son is very ill—”
&
nbsp; A sharp intake of breath interrupted her.
“You have a son? The baby … was a boy?” Tears glistened in her eyes and Danielle realized that her parents had no way of knowing what became of the tiny life that had driven a giant wedge between them that long-ago summer.
“I have a grandson?” The look of sheer joy could not have been feigned.
Danielle smiled and let her guard down a little. “His name is Trevor. He’s seven.” She paused and let her mother absorb the information.
A tear made its way down her mother’s lightly wrinkled cheek, accompanied by a tiny hiccup of joy. “Is he here? Can I see him?” She pressed a hand to her chest, almost shaking with eagerness.
“I have pictures in my purse, but I couldn’t bring him with me.” Danielle leaned forward, hoping her expression conveyed severity. “He’s sick, Mother. Really sick. We’re fighting for his life, and I need your help to save him.”
The color drained from her mother’s face. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Leukemia.”
The word had an instant sobering effect. “The poor dear. Is he going to recover?”
Danielle let the question hang there for a moment. “He needs a marrow transplant if there’s any hope of beating this thing, but I’m not a match. I came home to ask you and Dad if you’d be willing to get tested.”
“Of course we will!” Not a moment of hesitation.
“Shouldn’t you talk to Dad before you agree on his behalf?”
She shook her head. “I’ll talk to him about the situation later, but I know he’ll agree.”
Danielle’s skepticism must have shown on her face because her mother abandoned the leftovers to cross the room and take her hand. “He’s felt terrible about the way we left things the last time we saw you. It’s hard for him to express himself, but if you can find it in your heart to give us both another chance—” Her voice broke and fresh tears welled in her eyes. “We’d like to make it up to you and get to know our grandson.”
Her mother gazed at her, hope and humility written plainly on her graceful features. Danielle found she could not keep her heart at a distance, could not turn a cold shoulder to the openness and vulnerability she saw. Despite their differences and disagreements, Danielle missed having a mother. And right now as she walked through the most difficult fight of her life, she needed one.
Maybe in the eight years she’d been away, a few things had changed. Maybe she owed it to Trevor to give her parents a second chance. He would love having grandparents to dote on him, to spoil him with presents and cookies and long days of their undivided attention. He could have that if she could get past the differences she had with her parents. She should at least try.
“Okay,” Danielle whispered, accepting her mother’s embrace, not with enthusiasm, but without the aversion she’d felt earlier.
Her mother sniffled and pulled back to look at Danielle. Relief, or maybe happiness, had taken ten years off her face. “Where are you staying tonight? Will you stay here with us?”
“I’d planned to start back home and get a hotel room somewhere on the way. I don’t want to be away from Trevor for too long. He’s in the hospital in Florida, undergoing re-induction chemotherapy. I have a friend who is visiting him, but I need to get back there.”
Her mother glanced toward the window. “It’s already dark. You won’t get far tonight. Why not sleep in your old bed and get a fresh start early in the morning?”
Weariness burrowed deep into her muscles and sapped her motivation to leave. The idea of bedding down sooner than later had a sudden and urgent appeal. “Well, I do need to look for a hospital or lab in the area that could perform the test. I had hoped to have a few leads before I go.”
“There’s a new hospital in South Bend that could do it, I’m sure.” Her mother moved to the sink and began rinsing dinner dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. “They specialize in the treatment of childhood diseases. Only in operation five years, but very reputable. Some people from our church took their child there for a tumor a few years back. Couldn’t have been happier with the services or the results.”
“Do you have a phone book? I know it’s late, but maybe I could get someone on the phone who could answer my questions.”
Her mom pointed at the cabinet nearest the back door. “Same place we stored it when you lived here. It’s called Faith Children’s Hospital.”
Danielle found the number in the Yellow Pages and dialed. She explained what she needed to the operator, who was able to connect her to the department and person who could answer the question.
“Sure, we do that type of testing,” a young-sounding woman told her. “If you have your doctor fax us the lab orders and send a sample of your son’s blood, we can handle the rest and send the results back to your son’s oncologist.”
Danielle thanked her and hung up. “You were right, Mom. They can perform the lab work. I’ll talk to Trevor’s doctor and call you when I know the orders have been sent and the lab is ready for you.”
“Good. Your father and I know just where it is since we went to visit the boy from our church. That hospital was a Godsend to that family. They offer excellent care and it’s so close.”
South Bend was just a twenty-minute drive from her hometown. “I wish Trevor and I lived that close to a qualified treatment facility.” The words struck her as they left her mouth. What if she did live nearer to a hospital where Trevor could get his treatments? She could run home whenever she needed to slip away, meet with clients while Trevor napped, maybe even go home and work a couple hours at night after he’d gone to sleep.
“So will you stay overnight?” her mother asked, interrupting the ideas racing through her mind.
Danielle thought it over a moment and decided she had an errand she wanted to run in the morning before she left town. And why not save the hotel money and sleep in her old room? Just for one night.
“Sure, Mom. I appreciate the offer.”
“Wonderful!” Her mother closed the dishwasher door and dried her hands on a dishtowel. “I’ll go make up the bed.”
“I’ll have to leave early,” Danielle called to her mother’s retreating form.
“That’s fine, dear.” She disappeared into the stairway, humming.
Danielle left the kitchen and ambled out to the front porch swing. The weathered old slats gave a groan as she sat, but they seemed sturdy enough. Nudging her tennis shoe against the porch rail, she urged the swing into gentle rock. A warm evening wind blew through the treetops, rustling the thick canopy. Hundreds of lightening bugs blinked on and off, their tiny green bulbs adding a touch of wonder to a quiet evening.
Florida didn’t get many lightening bugs, not like here. She wished Trevor could see them. He would love running through the yard in the dark, catching them up in his hands, placing them in a jar to set beside his bed. A wave of longing swept over her. They’d never been apart for more than a day, and right about now she could use a hug and a smile from her little guy. The hour had grown too late to call, but she’d phone him in the morning to be sure he and Janna were doing all right.
As the glow on the horizon faded and darkness grew deeper, Danielle’s mind was full of the day’s events, to the point she was near overload. But she also felt a glowing sense of accomplishment. She’d faced a demon that had dogged her heels every day of the last eight years, and she’d survived it. The hurts were still there, the insecurities and questions too, but a tiny bridge had been strung across the gulf that had separated her from her parents for so many years, and maybe, if they were careful, they could cross to the other side on occasion without burning it down this time.
As the adrenaline that had fueled her system for the last few hours wore off, the weight of fatigue crept in. Her eyelids grew heavy. The gentle rocking of the swing lulled her to give in to the exhaustion she’d accumulated during the long drive. Figuring she’d better get her travel bag while she still had the strength, she pushed to her feet and headed to
her car.
Chapter Fourteen
The smell of breakfast greeted Danielle when she opened her bedroom door the next morning. She hadn’t expected anyone to be up so early. In fact, she’d hoped to make a quiet getaway, but it seemed she’d be saying her goodbyes to someone. A glance down the upstairs hallway showed her parent’s bedroom door stood ajar. That meant they were both awake and had started their day. Drawing a deep breath, Danielle arranged the strap of her bag on her shoulder and headed down the steps.
She deposited her bag near the front door, ready for a quick escape, then followed the smell of breakfast foods to the dining room.
Her father sat at the head of the table, finishing up a plate of food, while her mother stood beside him, refilling his coffee cup and urging another helping of French toast on him.
“I have an early meeting,” he said, folding the newspaper he’d been reading and pushing back from the table. “Have to get to the office.”
They caught sight of her just then. Her mother’s face broke into a smile. Her father gave her a quick look, then dropped the paper on the table and fished in his pocket for his car keys. “You ladies have a nice day,” he said, heading through the kitchen to the side door leading out to the driveway. The slam of a car door followed by the rumble of an engine told Danielle he was on his way. Well, he’d made that goodbye easy enough. She supposed she should be thankful there had been no conflict or drama, but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Why had he never been able to show her love, even a little?
Her mother breezed over and gave her a one-armed hug and peck on the cheek. “I made French toast and eggs. And I can cook a few pieces of bacon too.” She turned toward the kitchen door, still carrying the coffee carafe.
“Mom, you didn’t have to do all this.”
The older woman waved away the concern. “I couldn’t send you off on a long drive with nothing in your stomach. Besides, it was no trouble. I still get up every morning to make breakfast for your father. It’s the best way to make sure that I don’t waste the day away sleeping in.”
