Homeward

by Melody Carlson

  “Hannah!” yelled Jennifer. “Time to get up.” She turned and looked at Meg with suspicion in her eyes. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  Hannah stuck her head out into the hallway. “Did you say something was wrong?” she asked, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

  Meg took Jennifer’s hand and went into Hannah’s bedroom. “Can we sit down?” she asked as she sat on Hannah’s bed.

  Hannah nodded absently. “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?”

  “Ashley got sick last night, and your mom and dad took her to the hospital.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” asked Hannah.

  “They don’t know for sure, but I think they’re running some tests on her.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” asked Jennifer.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Meg wished she was as sure as she was trying to sound.

  “When are they coming home?” asked Hannah.

  “I don’t know. But I think you two better get ready for school. You don’t want to miss your bus.” She tried to inflect her voice with a light tone.

  “But how will we know if Ashley is okay?” asked Jennifer.

  “I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I find out anything.”

  “Maybe we can make Ashley a get-well card,” said Hannah hopefully.

  “Do you think she’ll be back when we get home from school?” asked Jennifer.

  “I’m not sure about that. But it’s getting late. You two go get ready, and I’ll fix breakfast.”

  Both girls helped Meg pack some hasty lunches with lopsided peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. She was shoving the lumpy bags into their backpacks just as loud brakes hissed out in front of the house.

  “Hurry up, girls,” she called as she held the door open. “Remember to be praying for Ashley.”

  They hollered back that they would remember, then were swallowed up by the big yellow bus.

  The house was silent now, but quiet and solitude were no longer welcome. Maybe her tolerance for noise had increased. She quickly cleaned the kitchen, then moved through the already tidy house, straightening the pillows, folding an afghan—anything to stay busy, anything to distract her from the fact that Erin still hadn’t called from the hospital. Suddenly her “no news” theory felt all wrong. Shouldn’t they know something by now? Finally, she could stand it no longer. She pulled on her coat and decided to join them at the Crandale hospital.

  An elderly woman with a kind face, volunteering at the information desk, told Meg that Ashley was in the ICU. She patted her hand and smiled in a way that was neither comforting nor confirming. Meg numbly followed the woman’s directions, trying not to consider the serious implications that the simple letters ICU seemed to spell.

  She quickly found Erin and Tom huddled together in a corner of the intensive-care waiting room. They were harshly illuminated by a stark fluorescent light that had no regard for the human suffering going on beneath it. Tom’s arms were wrapped around Erin’s shoulders, and he appeared to be praying. Not eager to disturb them, Meg hovered by the nurses’ station and waited, trying to avert her eyes from what should have been a private moment. But she couldn’t help seeing the tears streaming down her sister’s cheeks.

  Meg bit her lip. What did this mean? Suddenly, she felt tears filling her own eyes, and she turned and ran down the hall until she came to the bathroom. Inside, her hands clutched the edge of the counter, and she stared into the sink. What was happening to her? How, in such a short time, had she come to care so deeply for these people? It was hard to believe that, except for Erin, she hadn’t known any of them until a few days ago. Now it felt like their pain was her own. She shook her head back and forth, trying to shake away the pain. But it didn’t work. She stared at her image in the mirror. Her face was pale, and her dark green eyes looked like they were sunk into two shadowy holes—the result of a sleepless night. The result of caring too much. For nearly twenty years she had managed to avoid this kind of pain.

  Suddenly she wondered why she had come back. What good could come from loving people? It only meant you could be hurt when the people you loved were torn away from you. San Francisco was sounding better than ever to her. Her old job was still waiting. Even putting up with Jerred would be easy compared to this. She knew she didn’t love him anymore, but perhaps that was a good thing, because he would no longer have the power to hurt her. Her old life seemed like a safe place. She could be free there. Maybe it was time to go back.

  “Meg?” It was Erin’s voice, but different. The warmth and color were gone. Meg turned to see her sister’s red-rimmed eyes and grief-stricken face. She wrapped her arms around Erin’s shoulders and whispered the words she was afraid to ask.

  “Is Ashley—is she—okay?”

  Erin sobbed. “It’s meningitis. Dr. McGregor says it doesn’t…doesn’t look good. We might…we might actually lose her.”

  Meg held her sister for a long time, and they both cried. Meg didn’t know what to say. She longed to comfort Erin, yet at the same time she too longed to be comforted. But no words came, and finally, they both pulled away. Meg picked up the box of tissues, probably placed there for times just like this. She handed several to Erin and then took one for herself.

  “I don’t know what to say, Erin,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do…”

  “If only I’d paid more attention yesterday when Tom brought the girls home. And she’d even told me on the way to the party that her head hurt. I should have noticed that she wasn’t well. And then she didn’t even touch her dinner. Why didn’t I figure it out? I’m a horrible mother—”

  “No, you’re not!” Meg said the words firmly as if scolding a child. “You cannot blame yourself for this, Erin.”

  “But I should have known. I should have been more aware. You even mentioned early last night that she had felt warm. But I just brushed it away. I’m such a fool—”

  “Stop it, Erin.” Meg grabbed her by the arms. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

  “But if I had—”

  “Okay, Erin, if you’re going to blame yourself, then you might as well blame me too. If I hadn’t been here, distracting you, you might have noticed that Ashley was sick. Or if I hadn’t put her to bed, you—” Meg broke into fresh tears now. Maybe it was her fault. Maybe Ashley would be okay if—

  “Meg, it’s not your fault!” Erin practically exploded. “We both better stop this nonsense, right now.”

  Meg blew her nose. “I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry, Erin.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I started it.” Erin took a deep breath. “Tom has the right idea. The doctors are treating her as best they can, so Tom says the only thing we can do now is pray. He’s put Ashley on the church prayer chain. I’m going to go out there and pray with him some more. Do you want to come?”

  Meg nodded and followed. Tom greeted her with a somber hug, and Meg explained to them that she had sent Jennifer and Hannah off to school like normal, thinking it best to keep to routine. Tom and Erin thanked her for watching them, and for the next several hours, the three of them sat together with heads bowed. Meg didn’t think their forlorn words would make any difference, but if it helped Tom and Erin to cope, then it was probably worth it.

  Just before noon, Dr. McGregor came out and told them that it would be okay for Tom and Erin to take turns sitting with Ashley now. Everything possible was being done, but she was still unconscious. He said they would probably move her down to pediatrics—if she stabilized. But his face didn’t look hopeful, and his eyes quickly glanced away as if he were afraid that they might guess the truth. Erin took the first shift, and Meg waited with Tom.

  “I do believe that God can heal her, Meg,” said Tom in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Meg swallowed and nodded. She was not so sure.

  “I know people who have been healed, Meg. There’s a man in our church who had an inoperable brain tumor. He was given less than a year to live. The church praye
d for him, and he’s alive and well today. That was about seven years ago.”

  Meg looked up. “What did the doctors say?”

  “They said it was a miracle.”

  In her heart, Meg wanted to believe that miracles were possible, but her mind rejected it as religious nonsense.

  “I’ve never been that fond of children,” she began, not knowing what she meant to say, or even why. “But something about Ashley just got to me from the very start.” She tapped her chest. “Right here.”

  Tom nodded and wiped his nose. “I know what you mean.”

  “She showed me her bunnies—” Meg swallowed hard again. “And she let me hold them. It was so sweet. I just wish that I believed in miracles. Because if anyone deserves one, it’s Ashley.”

  All afternoon, Tom and Erin took turns sitting with Ashley. Meg wished that she could see her little niece, but was afraid to ask. She knew that only the closest relatives were allowed in the ICU and that time with Ashley was precious, maybe even limited. She also knew it was getting close to the time when the girls would be getting home from school.

  “Should I go and stay with Hannah and Jennifer?” asked Meg. “I told them this morning that I would let them know if I found out anything about Ashley, but I didn’t tell them any details. I didn’t really know what to say.”

  “No, maybe you could stay here with Erin,” Tom suggested. “I’ll go and talk to the girls. They need to know what’s going on.” Just then Erin came down the hall. They both looked expectantly at her face, the way they did whenever the shift changes occurred, but Meg could see by her expression that once again there had been no change.

  “Maybe I’ll pick up the girls and take them out for a burger or something,” Tom said to Erin. “The cafeteria food is pretty bad. Then I’ll bring them over here. Maybe the doctor will have moved Ashley out of ICU by then.” His voice sounded hopeful. “And maybe they can see her.”

  “I hope so,” said Erin, her quivering voice barely more than a whisper.

  Meg placed her hand on Erin’s shoulder. “Everyone is praying for a miracle.”

  Erin looked up. “Are you?”

  Meg’s cheeks grew warm. “I’d like to. I just don’t know if I can. But I’m willing to try.”

  Tom turned to Meg. “Maybe you’d like to go sit with Ashley for a bit while Erin gets a bite to eat—”

  “I’m not hungry,” protested Erin.

  “You need to eat,” said Tom. “You haven’t had a thing all day. It won’t do Ashley any good if you collapse.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She turned to Meg. “Do you mind sitting with Ashley for a few minutes?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I was hoping for the chance.”

  “Thanks, Meg,” said Erin. “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

  Tom patted Meg on the back. “Yep, God had good timing in bringing you here. Thanks, Meg.”

  Meg headed toward the ICU doors, not knowing what to expect. But when she saw the tiny little body all hooked up to tubes, she sucked in her breath and felt her heart twist. The nurse glanced at her curiously, and Meg quickly sat down on the metal chair next to the bed. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, afraid that the nurse might make her leave.

  She sat for several minutes just staring at all the machines and devices that appeared to be keeping this child alive. She knew that Ashley was on antibiotics to fight off the disease that was raging through her, but the doctor had said he still couldn’t confirm that the drugs were helping. Tom had already explained to Meg that Ashley’s white-cell count was so low that the doctor had been dismal about the medicines’ effectiveness. Ashley truly did need a miracle. And although Meg was not a believer in miracles, she did believe in God. As she sat there, watching Ashley’s chest rise and fall, she prayed that God would teach her to believe in miracles.

  She had no idea how much time had passed when the ICU nurse tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to Erin, who was waiting in the doorway. She felt as if she’d been in some sort of time warp, because it seemed she had only just sat down. She glanced at Ashley as she left. She half expected to see the pale eyelashes flutter open, but nothing changed. She walked toward the door, amazed that she had honestly expected something to happen. Maybe that was faith.

  “I prayed for a miracle,” she whispered to Erin as they passed each other going through the door.

  The corners of Erin’s mouth curled up ever so slightly. “Thanks, Meg.”

  Meg went and sat down in the empty waiting room. For the first time, a strange sense of peace came over her. Her mind told her it was impossible, but her heart sighed. She closed her eyes and continued to pray.

  After a while, she heard quiet footsteps and looked up to see Hannah and Jennifer come into the waiting room with Tom. Their red eyes and trembling chins revealed that they were aware of the serious nature of their sister’s illness. They sat silently next to their dad, as if under a spell and afraid to speak, perhaps fearing that their words might make this bad situation even worse. She supposed it was the right thing for Tom to honestly tell the girls how sick Ashley was, but just the same, she pitied them and wished that childhood could be spared such pain and sorrow.

  Her own childhood had certainly not been without suffering. As an adult she had learned to skillfully block out much of the unpleasantness. It was only when she spent time with Sunny that those bitter memories seemed to flood back, bringing with them all the old resentment for the way things had been.

  Thoughts of Sunny made Meg wonder if she was even aware that her tiny granddaughter was hanging on the brink between life and death. She wondered if Sunny would care, then chided herself for being so coldhearted and skeptical toward her own mother. Of course she would care. Why wouldn’t she?

  “Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” Meg asked Tom. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but I wondered if Sunny should know.”

  Tom smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Of course. I called our pastor and asked him to put Ashley on the prayer chain, but I totally forgot about Erin’s mother. You probably know that my parents have both passed on, but I can’t believe that I forgot all about Erin’s side of the family. And Grandmother Lancaster should be informed, too. I know her health isn’t the best, and you would probably want to tell her gently. But I’d feel horrible if they heard it from someone else in town, which is entirely possible. You know how Crandale is.”

  Meg stood. “Why don’t I go and call Sunny? Perhaps she could let Grandmother know.”

  “Thanks, Meg. I’d appreciate that.”

  It wasn’t yet five o’clock, and Meg hoped to catch Sunny at the shop, but it was Sigfried who answered.

  “She’s gone,” he said in a cool, businesslike tone after she had identified herself.

  “Well, this is urgent. Do you know if she went home, or if she’ll be coming back?”

  “Can’t say that I do.” His tone didn’t change.

  “Well, there’s an emergency, and I don’t have her apartment phone number. Do you suppose...” She paused, waiting for him to show some concern.

  “You mean you don’t even know your own mother’s home phone number?” He made a scolding sound that was just like the sound Grandmother used to make when Meg was a little girl.

  “Look, just give her this message.” Meg was mad now, and she didn’t care what he thought. “Tell her that her granddaughter is in the ICU at St. John’s. She may not even make it through the night. You got that?”

  His voice took on a concerned and helpful tone. “Do you want her number, or do you want me to call her for you?”

  “Why don’t you call her?” Without waiting for a response, she sighed and hung up. She leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling incredibly weary.

  ELEVEN

  Sunny and Sigfried burst into the ICU that evening laden with bright Mylar balloons, a bouquet of flowers, and a giant teddy bear. Meg thought it looked like they were staging the beginnings of a cir
cus parade.

  “I got here as soon as I could,” Sunny gushed in an overly loud voice. She looked around with wide eyes, then glanced over at Hannah and Jennifer as if taking a mental head count. “What’s going on? Is it Ashley? What happened? Tell me everything.”

  Tom had already stepped up and put a hand on Sunny’s shoulder. He now quietly directed her past the gaping nurses at the desk and over to the waiting area.

  “Here. Sit down, Sunny,” he said. “Let me explain.” In a hushed tone he proceeded to tell everything they knew, which he admitted wasn’t much.

  “Are they doing everything they can?” asked Sunny. “Have you gotten a second opinion? Are you sure that Dr. McGregor is the best doctor to handle this?”

  “Dr. McGregor has been our pediatrician since Jennifer was born,” Tom answered calmly. “He’s always taken excellent care of all the girls. I feel confident in his ability.”

  “Can I see her?” asked Sunny. “I brought some things to cheer her up.”

  Tom sighed and turned to Meg with a frustrated expression.

  “Sunny,” said Meg slowly, “Ashley is unconscious. She is in the intensive care unit. That means only immediate family, and there is certainly no room in there for this,” she said, waving her hand toward the things Sunny had brought. She said the words as if the gifts were an insult and instantly regretted her tone, but it was too late.

  “Well, I wanted to do something to cheer her up,” Sunny said, and Sigfried put a protective hand on her arm. She looked to Tom. “Aren’t I ‘immediate family’?”

  Tom nodded. “Sure, Sunny. That seems reasonable. And thanks for bringing these things. It was real thoughtful. You can give them to Ashley just as soon as they move her down to pediatrics.”

  Sunny smiled. “So they are moving her out of intensive care?”

  Tom shook his head. “No,” he said slowly. He started to explain again how serious Ashley’s condition was, but Meg couldn’t stand to hear any more.