Dana's Valley

by Janette Oke

  “It’s okay,” he muttered and turned for the car.

  Dad carried what conversation there was on the way home. Brett had little to say, and I was at a loss for words. We had all expected that he’d make the team.

  As we climbed from the car I had finally figured out what I wanted to say. “Brett?”

  He faced me reluctantly.

  “Thanks. I could never have made my team without you.” There was a sympathetic look in my eye that must have told him how sincerely I meant the words.

  “It’s okay.”

  I knew he meant that he’d be okay. And I was glad. But I wondered what he would do to fill the place in his life that basketball had always held. I couldn’t imagine that he’d be able to stay home with Mom, Dana, and Grandma when he’d always been so involved in sports activity.

  I was surprised when Brett announced his solution to the extra amount of free time. Without basketball practice to tie him down, and with mounting expenses for we weren’t sure what, he made a declaration that he “needed” a job.

  Mom and Dad discussed it one evening in the living room while the rest of us were getting ready for bed. From the pieces of conversation I managed to hear, the only obstacle that could not be overcome in their discussion turned out to be the third vehicle. And for that, even Brett didn’t have a ready solution. Mom encouraged him to pray about it, and then we waited, hoping we’d stumble upon an answer.

  As it turned out, the answer drove up our driveway in the form of Grandma’s old yellow sedan. She had finally made arrangements for someone to deliver the car to her but really had no intention of using it. From things she said I gathered that she supposed it would be best to have Dad sell it. Brett’s eyes lit up immediately when he saw it pull in. True, it wasn’t exactly what he’d pictured his first car to be, but it had one exceptional quality. It was available.

  Without too much persuasion, Grandma said Brett could drive it, so long as he agreed to take her where she needed to go when he could. Brett was beside himself, anticipating the reaction of his school friends when he showed up with a car of his own—sort of. Now all he had to do was find a job, and he’d be living in a style that was the envy of his peers. Basketball had almost been forgotten. And his trips to visit the new skateboarding buddies became regular events.

  When basketball season started, things changed for me. It didn’t take long to get to know the girls on the team. Once they discovered that I could play fairly well, they welcomed me. Anything to be a winning team, I guess.

  Anyway, as time went on and we spent hours in practice, I lost my shyness and they lost their reserve, and I soon felt that I was actually among friends. One girl in particular seemed open to friendship. She lived down the road from us, and her mom or dad, or sometimes an older brother, was quite willing to pop by and pick me up or drop me off before or after practice. It sure made it easier for my folks.

  She wasn’t a church girl, but she was really nice. And she didn’t replace Marcy, but I was really thankful for her friendship. Her name was Belinda Marsden, but on the team we called her Bull. It didn’t really fit, because she was the smallest girl on the team. But we all had rather silly nicknames. I think it had something to do with team spirit. Anyway, Coach encouraged it. The tougher the name, the better he seemed to like it. On the court I was known as Squ-walsh. The girls drawled it as if it were about three syllables. It was a little lame—but I’d never really had a nickname before, so I secretly enjoyed the feeling of camaraderie that it gave. I didn’t share that with my folks. Only Dana knew, and she sometimes teased me with it when we were alone.

  Chapter Eight

  Dana had been on her medications for several weeks, and she still didn’t have much energy. She looked pale and seemed to drag herself around. Often I felt she didn’t bother to put out much effort at all. She was even losing interest in piano. And on more than one occasion she begged off a church activity. That meant I either had to go alone or stay home. I usually opted to go without her, though I sure didn’t like that option. It didn’t seem the same without Dana. We’d always done things together.

  Her name was mentioned in every prayer time that our youth group had. Carli saw to that. She was constantly calling our house and checking on Dana. Even though their conversations were mostly about everyday things, I got the feeling she was really gathering information to share with the youth group. I mean, Carli was a good friend and loved Dana, but I felt like she was in a mode of caretaking rather than offering friendship. I think Dana felt that way too. She seemed to be drawing away from Carli.

  The first question most of our friends asked when I arrived at church was “How’s Dana?” My feelings were mixed. Though I appreciated their concern, I had begun to tire of discussing her all the time. I prayed for her regularly, did what I could to be helpful at home so that Mom could spend extra time with her, and sometimes chatted with her long into the night. Even rubbed her back when she couldn’t sleep. But I wished everything in my life didn’t seem to revolve around how Dana was doing.

  When I wasn’t at home I tried not to think about it. I was beginning to feel more comfortable in our new school. Basketball was going well, and I spent every available minute practicing my shots at the homemade hoop that Dad had set up in the driveway. I was determined to make the starting lineup. The day finally arrived for our coach to make the announcement at practice. At the morning’s breakfast table I tried not to let my nervousness show as I spread jam on my toast and listened to Grandma praising Corey for his excellent artwork.

  Brett stirred restlessly in his chair and rose to leave without asking permission. “I told Curt I’d give him a ride to school,” he stated by way of an explanation.

  Dad frowned. “I don’t know if it is wise for you to become the new school bus,” he commented.

  “I’m not—” began Brett, but Dad held up his hand—his signal that he wasn’t ready to concede the floor. His voice had taken on the lecture tone.

  “Driving is a serious business, Brett. Chauffeuring someone around is a great responsibility. If anything happened—any–thing—you would be responsible. Do you understand that?”

  Brett nodded, but he looked glum.

  After exchanging glances with Mom, Dad continued. “Since you have already given your word, you may pick Curt up today. But in the future you will drive straight to school—no detouring to gather up your friends en route. The school bus goes right by Curt’s door. I think it best that he continue to use it.”

  Brett nodded again, but he sure didn’t look happy about it. I’d already seen him with his car filled with school friends—both guys and girls—windows down, arms waving, shrieking and laughing their way through the school parking lot. I wondered how Dad would respond if he had seen that. I was sure I knew. But I was just as sure I wasn’t going to squeal on Brett.

  It did remind me, though, that Dad had a lot more on his mind than just Dana. Other things could not be put on hold until her problem was solved. He had four kids to raise and was expected to meet the needs of all of us.

  I guess Dad knew about boys and cars too, for just as Brett was leaving the kitchen, Dad spoke again. “Son.”

  Brett turned around.

  “I think it’s great that you want to help out your friends.” I knew there was a “but” coming. I could tell by Brett’s eyes that he did too.

  “Things can happen in a hurry when you’re behind the wheel of a car. Things you hadn’t counted on or expected. Sometimes they have long-range consequences. You need the car because you have a job to go to after classes. A car is a tool. Not a toy. I expect it to take you to school, to work, and home again. It isn’t to be used for joyriding or running around town. Over the lunch hour it is to stay parked. Understand?”

  Brett nodded, his expression grim.

  “Tell your friends who ask you to take them places that your dad has rules. And the first one is, no passengers. Let them put the heat on me. If they really are desperate for a ride, you
have my office number. Tell them to call me.”

  I almost giggled. I knew there would be no calls from Brett’s friends to have Dad drive them around over the lunch break. Guess Brett knew it too. I expected him now to really look angry. But he didn’t. In fact, I thought he looked just a little bit relieved. Like Dad had shouldered the heavy burden he’d been carrying. Given him some backbone to say no.

  Corey came bursting into the room. He’d been sent off to find an elusive library book that was to be returned. “Found it,” he almost shouted, even though we were all right there.

  Mom took the book from Corey’s outstretched hand and tucked it into his backpack. But the found book did not erase the worry lines from her forehead. I knew she was still thinking about Dana, who lay upstairs in our room. She’d contracted another cold. And she was going to miss school—again.

  In previous years, Mom had begun plans and preparations for Christmas immediately after Thanksgiving. This year December was already upon us before it was even mentioned. And Mom sighed as she brought up the subject. Not only was much of Mom’s time spent with Dana, but most of her energy and enthusiasm had been sapped as well. She tried very hard to make sure that she continued to read with Corey and encourage me with my basketball, but she seemed to have little interest in focusing on holiday preparations.

  So Dad and I decided we would take over. Mom declared over and over again that next year would be back to normal. She did, however, also thank us for taking the extra responsibilities out of her hands.

  Dad and I gathered a box or two of our favorite things from the attic, deciding to let the rest lie. We did bring down decorations for the tree, but the festive mood in our home would be nothing like Mom usually produced. We set up the Advent calendar for Corey and determined to enjoy a simpler holiday.

  An e-mail from Grandpa and Grandma Tyler in South America brought some much-needed good news to our house. They were taking a short break from the medical clinic. Grandpa needed to come back home to look into a new drug for treating some disease that was a problem in Bolivia. I heard the name. It was long and sounded funny, so I didn’t try to understand what it was all about. I did catch that there were new studies that had been done and some medicine that seemed to be getting promising results. But Grandpa wanted hands-on knowledge about it before trying it on his patients. He was coming to the States and spending three months with doctors who were doing the tests.

  Anyway, I dismissed all of that. What was important to me, and to the rest of us, was that they’d be coming for a visit. In fact, they promised to spend Christmas with us. They had never been able to spend Christmas with us before, at least that I remembered, so we were all excited.

  Grandma Walsh even seemed to perk up a bit. I wasn’t sure if it was because she liked my other grandparents or because she knew Grandpa Tyler was a doctor and someone with whom she could discuss her aches and pains. She had a lot more of them to talk about since Grandpa had died, I thought.

  Corey was nearly wild with excitement. He hadn’t seen our Tyler grandparents since he’d been very small, and he could hardly wait. He hauled out photo albums and followed Mom around asking questions about the pictures he found in them. She answered patiently. No—more than that. She answered with enthusiasm—more like she used to be. She hadn’t seen her folks for some time either. She was almost as giddy as Corey.

  Our days were suddenly measured by how many days left—a countdown to arrival. The Advent calendar was not just how many days until Christmas, but also how many days until our grandparents would come, scheduled for December twenty-three.

  The doctor had advised that Dana be given extra vitamins to aid in fighting off cold and flu, and with the hope that she’d have more energy as well. I think Mom was anxious to have Dana feeling stronger before our grandparents arrived. The old Dana and the now Dana were so different, and I think Mom wanted to have Dana back to show off. The Dana who smiled easily. Who tried to take care of other people. Who played the piano well. Who had some spring in her step and sparkle in her eyes. We hadn’t seen that Dana for an awfully long time. I couldn’t wait for her return either.

  The Dana of now was quiet and withdrawn—and harder to understand. I wasn’t sure how to talk with her anymore, and she didn’t seem open to sharing much anyway.

  We were all to drive into the city to meet the plane that would bring Grandpa and Grandma Tyler home again. Corey wanted to drag along one of the photo albums. I’m not sure why. I guess he wanted to show Grandpa and Grandma what they looked like or something. Anyway, Mom managed to talk him into leaving it behind on the coffee table.

  We were just getting on our coats and were ready to climb into the van when Dana had another nosebleed. This one was hard to get stopped. I could tell that even with his concern for Dana, Dad’s eyes were on the clock. It was a long drive to the airport, and if the traffic happened to be bad, we might be late. Dad didn’t like being late. Not for anything. It made me feel fidgety just watching him.

  Mom had stripped off Dana’s coat with the blood spots on it and was working over Dana trying to get the bleeding to stop. She spoke without even looking up. I guess she must have been aware of the clock too. “Maybe you should go.”

  Mom couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. I knew she had been counting the days as well. She was so excited about seeing her folks. And she had wanted us all to be there. Together. Her family—to welcome them home. She wanted to hear their “My, how they’ve grown” words and all those other things that grandparents say when they haven’t seen their grandkids for a while.

  Dad stirred and looked at his watch. “We’ve still got a little time,” he answered. He knew how much Mom wanted to be there too.

  Dana’s eyes, above the cold cloth Mom had pressed over her face, looked panicky and apologetic. She couldn’t just will the bleeding to stop, but I knew she was thinking she was spoiling things for the family. She tried to talk, but it was sort of a mumble. Mom moved the cloth a bit and leaned forward to listen.

  I didn’t hear what Dana said, but Mom came back with “Of course not. I wouldn’t think of leaving you here alone.” Dad reached up to pass a hand through his hair, the car keys jangling with the movement.

  Mom looked toward Dad again, and her eyes were shadowed. “I think she’d better stay home, Dave,” she said. Her voice sounded a little choked. I hoped she wasn’t going to cry. I couldn’t stand seeing Mom cry.

  “Would you like to go?” asked Dad, hesitantly holding the van keys out toward Mom.

  “I hate city driving,” she responded. I knew it was true.

  “Then …”

  “I’ll stay.” It was Grandma Walsh who spoke the words. She stepped forward and was already removing her coat. Mom managed a smile and even reached out to sort of pat Grandma’s hand. “That’s fine, Mother,” she said. “Thank you … I’ll stay. I don’t mind.”

  But her eyes told us all that she did mind. I wondered if her words counted as a lie in God’s books. Maybe not. Maybe He understood what she really meant. That though she was terribly disappointed in not being able to go to the airport to meet her folks, she would put Dana’s needs first. That was what was most important to her.

  I tried not to feel a little angry with Dana—causing Mom to hurt like that. But why did she have to go and have a nosebleed now? I looked over at the coat with its bloodred stains all down the front and felt a little sick. I knew very well that Dana hadn’t planned things this way.

  “Why don’t we all stay?” Grandma Walsh had spoken again. “Let Dave pick them up. Then when they get here, we’ll all be able to greet them together. We can have dinner all ready to sit down to.”

  Personally I had been looking forward to the trip into the city. To seeing and hearing all the commotion of the airport. I loved to watch people, and the airport seemed like an ideal place to do so. I had only been there once before, but I’d found it tremendously exciting. People—all sorts of people—racing around to catch connecting
flights or lounging while they waited for their departure time. Talking. Reading. Using cell phones—in all sorts of languages. It was exciting.

  Mom seemed to stir and perk up a bit. “It’s okay, Mother,” she said again. “I’ll have the dinner waiting. You go. All of you go. We’ll be fine. I think the bleeding’s about stopped now.” It was getting late. Dad still dangled the van keys. But Grandma did not put her coat back on. It was clear that she didn’t plan on going anywhere.

  Wordlessly, Brett shrugged out of his winter mackinaw. Corey took one look at him and nodded, “Me too.”

  Corey loved excitement, but he hated long car rides. I wasn’t quite sure if his decision was a hardship or a blessing.

  I sighed. It seemed that I’d be staying too. I could hardly go with everyone else staying home.

  “Why don’t you go along with Daddy? Keep him company?” Mom asked me. I wanted to. But it didn’t seem fair. I shook my head and reached for Dana’s coat. “I’ll put this in the laundry tub to soak,” I said and headed for the utility room without even taking off my own coat.

  It wasn’t so bad … waiting at home. As soon as Mom was sure Dana’s nose had stopped bleeding, she settled her on the sofa and tried to get us all perked up again. I was sent to get a bowl of fresh apples and mandarin oranges from the basement cold room, and Corey settled at the kitchen table to draw a picture for hanging on the front door to welcome our grandparents. Brett was sent to the nearby store for mocha pecan ice cream, Grandma Tyler’s favorite dessert. Grandma Walsh went to work in the kitchen with Mom, who was soon talking and laughing again. Our world seemed to have been restored. I hoped with all my heart that Dad would not be late. He would be embarrassed if Grandpa and Grandma had to wait at the airport for someone to come to pick them up. It would be awkward enough that he was showing up alone.

  But all that was quickly forgotten when we welcomed them later that evening. It turned out to be even more special than we had anticipated, having Grandpa and Grandma Tyler with us. Attending the Christmas Eve service together was really great. I liked the way that Grandpa sang the carols. In a booming voice, as if he meant every word. For the first time in my life I started to really give some thought to what I was singing. Later, over cups of hot chocolate and some of Mom’s special Christmas cookies, Grandpa told us what the words would be in the Spanish language. I liked the sound of it all, but I really didn’t know where one word stopped and the next one started when they flowed together in the familiar Christmas music. Still, it was fun. Then Grandpa and Grandma sang a new song for us, and Mom joined in. I guess she still hadn’t forgotten the Spanish she had learned as a missionary kid, though I had never heard her use it before.