“Mr. Oleson, I just took a message for you, and I haven’t had time to get it to your box,” said Mrs. Cunningham as she held out the carbonless slip of telephone message paper. “A Dr. Carsten’s office wants you to call right away.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cunningham.” Jonathan wanted to discourage further discussion about the phone call. Students and faculty alike adored the loveable drill sergeant. They had no idea how they would keep the school running without her. She also served as the town crier, and Jon had no desire to be fodder for the rumor mill at LaSalle High School.
“Would you like to use my phone, Mr. Oleson?” she pressed further.
“No, thanks,” he said gesturing with the mobile phone he held in he left hand. “I’ll call on the way home. Lillie’s waiting.”
Jonathan cringed. He should have known better. If he’d wanted a quick getaway he shouldn’t have mentioned his wife.
Years before, Jonathan left LaSalle for Chicago, anxious to be a part of the big city. Before the ink had dried on his diploma he’d been enrolled in college at the University of Illinois at Chicago, or UIC as it was most often called. He only moved back to LaSalle, near the Indiana coast of Lake Michigan when he accepted the assistant director’s position at the high school to be closer to his mother and younger sister after his father was killed.
Lillie was also born in LaSalle and had graduated from LHS as well, albeit several years after he did. They had not known each other in school, but met at a party at Cassie and Ben’s house soon after he returned.
Mrs. Cunningham was a LHS institution and swore she could remember every one of the thousands of students to come through the doors. She was especially fond of Lillie and always asked after her.
“How’s my poor Lillie dear fairing?”
“Just fine, Mrs. Cunningham.”
“Mr. Cunningham and I, God rest his soul, lost two children before we had our Peter,” she said referring to her son and only child who had been killed in Vietnam when he was nineteen years old.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, it was a trial for me then…I know how Lillie must feel. You know in those days a woman was just supposed to accept the fact she was childless with grace. There was no running around to doctors. Some people adopted, but it was quite the stigma. No one spoke of it, you know.”
“That’s what I understand.”
“I wanted to adopt, but Mr. Cunningham would hear none of it. He said he didn’t think he could raise another man’s son.” Jonathan remained quiet, not sure what to say or exactly where she was going with the conversation.
“Then we were blessed with Peter, but no more. I was so grateful for that baby and I had always hoped it would happen again, but that wasn’t to be. I never really got over my husband being unwilling to adopt though. We could have had a daughter, or another son.” Her eyes looked far away but in a moment, she continued. “But now Peter is gone and so is Mr. Cunningham.”
He looked at the secretary in a new light, and he realized that even though generations separated them, the issues were still very much the same when it came to infertility. It all came down to pride, he guessed in the end. He decided to talk to Lillie more seriously about adoption. They could adopt a baby now and try again for a baby later. They wanted several children. He smiled at Mrs. Cunningham, squeezed her hand and said, “Duly noted.”
He stepped out of the office door, and waived the sheet music that nearly always accompanied him in a half salute, half farewell gesture. Jogging now, out of the building, he managed to shift all of his armload of teacher paraphernalia into one arm to free his other hand to dial this mobile phone. As he reached his Jeep he tucked the phone under his chin so he could shift his load to the front passenger seat to join three notebooks, two coffee mugs, a potato chip bag and his favorite fishing hat, before running around his vehicle.
Jonathan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the phone to be answered. Navigating the complicated voice mail system added to his frustration. He finally gave up and pushed zero in hopes of being connected to a live person. When someone answered at last, Jon asked for Dr. Carsten, only to be shifted back into the phone tree. Irritated he pushed the zero key again and again waited while a computerized voice informed him his call was very important to them.
At last a real person answered and he again explained, “This is Jonathan Oleson returning a call to Dr. Carsten.”
“One moment please.” He was put on hold again before he had a chance to protest.
“Ach! Schubert! Of course,” Jonathan protested. The “on hold” recording was a piece of music he did not care for and he slammed his Jeep into reverse and nearly squealed out of the parking lot.
A voice on the other line picked up just as he was juggling his phone to back to his chin so that he could shift into third gear to turn onto Lincolnway, the main thoroughfare though LaSalle. “Hello…Hello?”
The voice on the other end seemed ready to give up and sever the connection as Jonathan got the phone to his mouth and yelled, “I’m here, hello!”
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I’m Jonathan Oleson returning a call from Dr. Carsten.”
“And what is your call in regards to?”
“I don’t know, that is why I’m calling. I had a message to call him.”
“One moment please,” the nurse said.
“Oh no you don’t. I have been on hold for fifteen minutes. Please,” Jonathan exaggerated. “Give me a break!”
“Well, Mr. Oliver—”
“Oleson! Jonathan Oleson.”
“Mr. Oleson, I can’t help you if I don’t have your chart. You’ll have to wait,” she said curtly before the blasted hold music began again.
At this rate, Jonathan would need to upgrade their mobile phone plan just to afford this one call. Jonathan made a left turn onto Robin Lane. Lillie lived in the charming craftsman her entire life.
She had grown up here, raised by her father when her mother was in a car accident when she was three. Lillie was also in the car, but was miraculously spared. Her mother and six-month-old sister were not. As well as could be told, Lillie’s mother had strapped Lillie into her car seat even though they were not yet required by law. In those days, car seats weren’t made for young infants, only children who could sit up on their own.
Lillie’s mother placed her sister in the car in her infant carrier on the driver’s side of the back seat. They were killed instantly when a truck ran a red light and slammed into the side of the car. Lillie sustained some internal injuries and required surgery, but she’d fully recovered. He often wondered if the injuries she suffered were contributing to her difficulties carrying a child to term, but when he tried to discuss it with Lillie she became so distraught that he let it drop.
They had considered adding on to the home instead of building a new one, but adapting the house to meet the needs of a growing family would be difficult to do. It would be impossible to make it larger and still maintain the architectural integrity of the house. When Lillie decided to sell it he knew the time had come for her to move on. It held so many memories, more good than bad, but Lillie finally needed to let go. The wonderful part of the plan, and something Lillie did not know about yet, was that Jon’s mom wanted to purchase the house when the farm sold.
They were both very excited about their new home. Their architect was finalizing the plans and they were going to be able to begin construction with the spring thaw. Jonathan found the lot several years ago. He and Lillie pooled their savings and purchased it within days, shortly after they returned from their honeymoon. It was three acres, partially wooded and just a few miles outside of town. They had often, especially in the beginning, pitched their tent and stayed the night to get a feel for their property and the kind of house they wanted to build.
Jon’s mother had offered them, on more than one occasion, a section of the farm where he grew up, but Jon was firm. He wanted a new place. He had
a vision for their dream home and he wanted everything to be perfect, not clouded by old memories, best put aside.
They’d planned to build much sooner, but as often happens, life had other plans. The first miscarriage had been such a surprise. As a couple they had taken for granted their ability to have a child whenever they chose.
If the first miscarriage was heartbreaking, then the second shook them to their very foundations. The first miscarriage hadn’t been a fluke. She’d been trying lately, but he feared only the hope of Dr. Carsten and her belief he could solve their problems kept her going. He had no idea what would become of her or their marriage if this doctor could not find a solution.
“Mr. Oleson?” The nurse finally came back to the phone.
“Yes, I’m still here,” Jonathan said trying to mask his impatience.
“Thank you for holding.”
“Not a problem,” Jonathan replied, holding his tongue.
“Doctor would like to order some additional tests.”
“Has he found something?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Oleson. I just have an order for more tests for you and your wife.”
“Has she been notified?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give you that information without a medical power of attorney due to the medical privacy act.”
“I see. Do I need an appointment?”
“You may stop by the lab at any time.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right over,” Jonathan said.
“I’ll let them know to expect you.”
* * *
Lillie and Jonathan drifted through the reeds in their Kevlar canoe. Jonathan indulged Lillie’s whim for an outing to their favorite place because he knew they needed to have a heart to heart. He constantly worried about his wife and their marriage if she could never carry a child to term.
Their paddles rhythmically dipped in and out of the water in perfect unison. The synchronicity came easily after so many years, so many trips. Lillie’s blond hair shone in the sunlight as she listlessly stared towards shore.
“Lillie,” Jonathan said gently, “we need to talk.”
Lillie spun gracefully on her seat and turned to face him. The canoe barely teetered as she swung about. He’d been drawn to her natural outdoors ability from the start. Raised by a single father who spent more time outside than in, Lillie loved to camp and hike as much as he did. She rested the paddle on her knees and stared at him blankly, as if awaiting the lecture sure to come.
“Lil, I want to adopt.” There. He’d said it. He didn’t think she would welcome the idea any more than she did last month, or six months before, but he wanted to try. “I don’t think we should put ourselves though this anymore.”
“What do you mean, Jonathan?” Lillie asked, an edge to her voice.
“I mean, what if it takes years?” Jonathan almost whispered. “How long are you planning on putting yourself though this?”
“As long as it takes,” Lillie said, steel resolution clear in her voice.
“What if it never works?”
She sucked in her breath and her face lost what little color the fresh air had added to her cheeks.
He’d just uncovered the elephant in their living room, and he knew she wouldn’t want to discuss it. Lillie whirled around in her seat and began furiously paddling as if trying to distance herself from him. Jonathan exhaled, but he wouldn’t be silent any longer.
“The fact is, the doctors might not have a solution. We might never know what the problem is.” Her back stiffened and her paddles flew through the water, but she did not turn to look at him. “Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you put yourself through this, month after month, year after year?” He ran his hand through his hair before grabbing his paddle in a vice grip and stabbing it back into the water. “I love you, and I can’t stand this!” he nearly shouted this time.
“If you love me, then don’t give up on me! In just a few weeks, we can try again,” Lillie cried, the tears evident in her voice, even though he couldn’t see her face.
“When will enough be enough? How much more of this are we supposed to take?”
“It’s enough when we have a baby,” Lillie said once again mechanically, as if she’d been programmed to think about one thing, and he knew that wasn’t him. Their lives had been reduced to a single focus. A baby--only ever a baby, anymore.
Jonathan took a deep breath, not willing to give up yet and continued. “Then let’s adopt.”
Lillie turned again in her seat and stared at him, silent. Jon pressed on, not willing to accept her silence and unwillingness to discuss it anymore. “If we adopted, then I think this process would be a lot easier. We’d have a child—” he could not find the words to continue.
“Jonathan,” Lillie said evenly, as if talking to an acquaintance and not her husband, “I want a child of my own. One that is made from you and me.”
“Can we at least go to the meeting about adoption? See what they have to say? I think that they really are your children.”
Lillie cut him off. “Jonathan, I want a baby that is part of me. You have family,” her voice cracked, but she continued. “You have a sister, a mother, a niece--I have no one except my Aunt Catherine and as much as I hate to admit it, she’s not going to be around forever.” Lillie took a breath and paused for a moment. “I want to be related to someone. Please. Please Jonathan, one more time—one more try. For me, and then I won’t ask again. I promise,” her eyes implored him.
Lillie turned back around in her seat, confident that the discussion was over. Jonathan all but whispered, “Aren’t you related to me?”
Lillie looked back over her shoulder, blond hair swinging in the sunlight. Jonathan paused and just looked at his wife. He loved her, even as he failed her.
For a second, he didn’t think she’d heard him, and she looked forward again. A moment later, almost as an afterthought, Lillie whispered back, “Maybe that’s not enough.”
Chapter Nine
Jonathan felt like a traitor even being in the smartly decorated reception area of Dr. Feller. He knew that Lillie would be beyond hurt if she knew he had made this appointment without her knowledge or consent. Lillie trusted him, and it was not a small thing for him to risk being here today. Still, there was more at risk here than an argument, no matter how severe. This was about their future, and he had to know where he stood.
Jonathan had done considerable research regarding their childlessness and he was afraid that he had found the cause. He was not here today so much to prove he was right, but to hopefully, prove he was wrong. Late one night, as he had been scanning the Internet, he had come across a study.
No doctor they consulted had felt his niece’s problems could be linked to theirs, as Rett’s Syndrome only affected girls and both of the babies they had lost had been boys. But this study inferred that children of both sexes could inherit the disease from their carrier parents which was previously unheard of. It concurred that these little boys were so damaged they did not survive to be born and were usually miscarried somewhere in the first trimester, occasionally in the second. He and Lillie had lost two baby boys, one in the beginning of the third and one well into the fifth month.
Jonathan tried to put the study out of his mind. If it applied to them then surely one of the battalion of doctors they consulted would have said something, he reasoned. But in the end, he could no longer ignore the nagging voice in his head. He had to know if what he feared was true.
He again consulted the Internet for specialists and found that one of national note was located in Chicago at Northwestern University Hospital on Chicago’s Gold Coast. A mere ninety miles from LaSalle and an “el” ride from his alma mater, UIC.
That morning Jonathan lied to Lillie for the first time in their marriage. He passed off the document releasing her medical records in with a sheaf of papers having to do with the new house and made her sign them before she had even one cup of coffee.
The longer he
sat in the gray toned waiting room, the more anxious he felt. Jonathan sat casually with his ankle resting on the top of his knee. The receptionist frowned as he beat the drum line’s new cadence on the inside of his shoe.
As if only to restore the peace to her otherwise calm waiting area, the woman seated at the front of the room behind a desk plate, which read, “Ms. Brattles” called his name.
Jonathan jumped to his feet and swiftly propelled himself across the room to the sliding window. Ms. Brattles looked over the top of her half spectacles and said, “Doctor will see you now.”
He thanked her and walked through the door when it buzzed. As he waited to be shown to an examination room, he wondered why the staff in doctor’s offices referred to them as “Doctor,” as if it was their name. It was never, the doctor will see you, or I will check with Doctor Smith, it was always just “Doctor,” as if having completed medical school was something like a marriage. Instead of a woman giving up her last name for a new one, the man who graduated medical school left behind being Mark, Richard or Sam to be known only as, “Doctor.” He wondered what their wives called them at home.
The same receptionist appeared and wordlessly led him down a long corridor to a richly stained walnut door at the end of the hallway. She opened the door without a word and stepped aside. He grimaced as he wondered what kind of doctor would employ someone like her to greet his patients and stepped reluctantly into the room.
He was pleasantly surprised to discover he was not in an exam room, but in a well-appointed office. To further his surprise, Dr. Feller was already seated behind his desk. He gestured with his coffee cup for Jonathan to have a seat and asked, “Can I get you a cup?”
“No, thanks,” Jonathan replied, his knee bouncing, keeping time with his ever present internal beat. Jon slapped his hand on his knee and laughed nervously. “I think I’ve had enough.”
“I guess so,” Dr. Feller smiled and looked to the door behind Jon. “Is Mrs. Oleson joining us?”
Coming Home Page 8
