A Wedding for Christmas (Sweet Holiday Romance) (A Veteran's Christmas Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  Kelly’s hands shook as she gave Bree’s shoulder a squeeze. She kissed her cheek. “I love you, darling girl. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

  “We will,” Tyler said, giving Bree a kiss. “You’re going to save that little girl’s life.”

  “I know,” Bree said. “I’m going to be a hero just like you, Papa.”

  Pride did not even begin to describe the swelling in his heart. He couldn’t have asked God for a more wonderful daughter, and he couldn’t wait to adopt her formally. Being a donor, he’d signed away rights to any child he sired, so he’d still need to go through the legal process and get his name placed on her birth certificate.

  Dear Lord, he breathed a prayer. You have been so good to me. Please hold Bree in the palm of your hand and bless her. May Bree’s cells speed the healing in little Erica’s body, and may all of us forever praise your glory. Amen.

  “We’ll see you in a bit, darling.” Tyler let go of Bree’s hand and took Kelly’s arm, as the anesthesiologist pulled his stool forward. He told Bree to lie down and close her eyes.

  “I’m going to give you a little shot,” the doctor said. “It will feel like a pin prick.”

  Because Erica’s condition was so dire, Dr. Debdatta had decided it would be faster for Bree to donate the marrow directly, rather than waiting for her to increase the circulating stem cells in her blood stream. This meant she would be put under general anesthesia during the operation.

  Kelly nodded and glanced at Tyler. Her eyebrows were creased together and she shuddered, biting her lip.

  “It’s probably better if we don’t watch,” Tyler said.

  “I can’t tear myself away.”

  “Come with me. Let’s get something to eat.” Tyler firmly guided Kelly from the operating room. “It’ll be over before you know it. Just think about little Erica Manning upstairs.”

  “Have you seen her?” Kelly lifted her face to the ceiling. “What must they be feeling right now?”

  “She’s very, very sick, and no, I haven’t visited.” Tyler rubbed Kelly’s shoulder. “This is her last chance.”

  “Ford told me two other donors had suddenly decided not to help. I can’t imagine how they felt when that happened.” Kelly blinked, her eyes watery.

  “Totally devastated. I don’t understand why Ford didn’t confide in me.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier not to lean on other people,” Kelly said. “You have to spend too much time explaining or actually calming them down.”

  “Is that your approach to life? Never asking for help?”

  “I asked Zulu for help, didn’t I?” She slanted her face at him, wearing a proud look. “She’s in charge of Arman’s birthday party, from the balloons to the cake.”

  True, Kelly had done a miracle turning Zulu around. For one thing, Zulu didn’t want to look weak compared to Kelly, so she’d stopped the self-pity and decided to seek help. She’d told Tyler she didn’t want to be a stick in the mud like Kelly who thought she could do everything herself.

  “You did, and I’m proud of you.” Tyler walked slowly at Kelly’s side.

  “I hope she remembers to call all the people who didn’t RSVP and confirm the number of pizzas we need.” Kelly was still a micro-manager, but seriously, who would care if there wasn’t enough pizza of the right flavor? Certainly not the children.

  “Kelly, stop worrying. Everything will be fun. Zulu’s got it covered, and right now, you and I are going to relax. We get to go home tonight with a healthy daughter. That’s something to be thankful for.”

  “I’m praying so hard it’ll be the same for Ford and Sheryl.”

  “Same here,” he agreed. “Their two-year fight with leukemia will be over soon.”

  ~ Kelly ~

  Two hours later, Tyler and I are still pacing the waiting room.

  “What’s taking so long? Why haven’t they called us into Bree’s room yet?” I had paged Dr. Debdatta, but she didn’t answer—probably too busy with Erica and her parents.

  “Did she tell you how long the procedure takes?” Tyler’s face is like stone, clearly worried.

  “I don’t remember it being this long.” I stride to the nurse’s station. “Is there someone I can talk to about my daughter? She’s been in the OR for a very long time.”

  “Try not to worry,” one of the nurses said. “Your daughter is in the recovery room.”

  “But if she is, why can’t we go see her?”

  “Doctors are examining her,” the nurse replies. Her expression is guarded, as if she knows something worse, but is prevented from telling us.

  “Why would they be examining her? She’s the donor of the bone marrow.” I drag my fingers down my face as the realization hit. “Was there a complication? Is my Bree going to be okay?”

  “What can you tell us?” Tyler demands. “Can one of the doctors come out and let us know what happened?”

  “I’ll try.” The nurse flutters her hand. “But they’re tending to an emergency.”

  “What emergency?” My heartbeat stutters and hot jolts of adrenaline shoot through my veins. “I want to see my daughter right now.”

  At that moment, the anesthesiologist emerges from behind the double doors leading to the OR. He walks toward us with a serious, downcast expression.

  “I want you to know we’re doing everything we can,” he says after shaking hands with us. “Anesthesia affects every individual differently, even accounting for size and weight. Some people are more sensitive and others less so. What anesthesia does is—”

  I grab the doctor’s arm and shake it. “I don’t care about the medical school lecture. I want to see my daughter right away. This was supposed to be a simple operation. She should have been awake a long time ago.”

  “Unfortunately, she’s not,” the doctor said. “We don’t know when she’s going to come out of her sleep. It could be a few minutes or it could be more.”

  The weight of the entire world slams me to the floor. “I have to see my daughter. Right away.”

  I can’t believe we came here to do a good deed, and now my precious Bree may never see the light of another day. How could God do this to us?

  29

  ~ Tyler ~

  The first thing Tyler noticed was how pale his daughter was. She lay on the bed with a pair of tubes going into her nose, and she was completely still, like a marble statue.

  “Why don’t they have a machine breathing for her?” Kelly asked the doctor. “How do you know she’s getting enough oxygen?”

  “She’s breathing on her own, and we are monitoring it closely.” The doctor pointed to a gadget clipped onto Bree’s index finger.

  “How’s her brain function? Did she lose oxygen to the brain?” Kelly’s panicked voice grated over Tyler’s already raw nerves.

  “Her brain is responsive, and all vital signs are normal,” the doctor said.

  “Then why isn’t she awake? Is there something you can do to make her wake up? Any medications or injections?” Kelly persisted with her interrogation.

  Tyler was just as anxious as Kelly for answers, but having a fit in front of Bree would not be helpful. She could possibly hear everything they said, and then be worried more than she needed to be.

  Tyler took a seat next to the head of the bed. “How’s my champ? You’re the bravest little girl I know. When you wake up, we’re going to have a big bowl of ice cream. How about that? You can get any flavor you like and you can top it with chocolate sauce.”

  He grasped Bree’s hand, the one without the tubes. The monitors continued their steady beep, and numbers danced across the screen. Was it his imagination, or had the blipping sped up?

  “What does her brain wave activity show?” Kelly asked, pointing to a monitor. Her back was toward Tyler, so he was unable to see exactly what she was looking at.

  “She’s asleep, in an anesthetic coma,” the doctor explained. “Most patients come out of the anesthetic within an hour, but there are a few who are more sensi
tive who might take a little longer.”

  “How much longer?” Kelly waved her hand frantically. “This is unacceptable. There must have been a miscalculation. Why can’t you do something?”

  “We’re doing all we can to assure her continued health,” the doctor said.

  “Bull!” Kelly stabbed a finger at the doctor’s chest. “She was under your care, and you failed her. She came here to do a good deed, and now it’s backfired.”

  “Ms. Kennedy, we’re going to have to ask you to step outside if you’re going to disturb the patient,” the doctor said.

  “Kel, come sit here.” Tyler pulled another chair to his side. “You wouldn’t want to miss Bree waking up, would you?”

  “But will she?” She collapsed into his embrace.

  He stroked her back and kissed her temple softly. “We must believe she will. She was meant to be our daughter. She’s the spark that set off the chain of beautiful events in both of our lives, and she’ll always be with us.”

  “I wish I’d thought more before I signed the form. I wish you could have been the donor. You matched 7 out of 8.”

  “She was 8 out of 8. We both decided to give Erica the best chance possible.” He rocked his feisty fiancée gently in his arms.

  “I was afraid of this, but I didn’t want to be a wimp.” Kelly sniffed. “I didn’t want to be selfish, especially since we know the recipient. Maybe it would have been better not to know.”

  “Stop second guessing.” He held her tight. “We’ve got this, Kel. We have to be as brave as Bree. We have to believe in miracles.”

  “But the doctor doesn’t know when she’s coming back.” Kelly wailed, snuffling against his shoulder.

  “Then we’ll wait.”

  “Right, we’ll wait.” Kelly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sat up straight. “We will never give up hope.”

  “Never. And we’ll pray.” Tyler bowed his head.

  They both held Bree’s sweet little hand between them.

  “Dear Father God, we lift our precious Bree up to you for healing and health. You are the great physician and you are the one who gives life and abundant blessings. Our little Bree is in your life-sustaining hands, and we pray for her complete recovery. We also ask for little Erica to heal from her leukemia. Please let Bree’s cells go in and sustain life for her. Praying for comfort and strength, determination and bravery for your humble servant. Make me the father Bree and Arman deserve and the perfect husband for Kelly. Let me always do your will, and let me accept and cherish the plans you have for my life. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  “Amen,” Kelly added. “And dear Lord God, whatever mistakes I’ve made, please forgive them. Bring my little Bree back to us. We have so many days and months and years ahead of us. You gave her to me and Tyler. You gave us our miracle, and we need another one—for Bree to wake up and Erica to get well. It wasn’t fate that brought all of us together, but your steady hand. Your will, not mine, dear God. In Christ’s glorious name, Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  Kelly stroked every strand of Bree’s hair and touched the tender skin on her cheek, while Tyler held Bree’s little hand. He could barely see her sweet little face through the tears in his eyes, but he would not stop believing.

  Kelly spoke to Bree, telling her about her birth, and how proud she was the first time she saw Bree peering at her, eyes wide open. How she used to pull the ornaments off the Christmas tree and wrap herself with a tinsel garland, then hang them on herself. How she followed her around like a little shadow and parked her potty next to the toilet—mother and daughter sharing everything. They’d slept together, ate together, played together, and did everything together.

  She praised Bree for her bravery and her big, humungous heart, and promised her she’d be best friends with little Erica. She told her how Erica would get well and be able to play with her, and how they would be like sisters. She painted a beautiful picture for Bree and asked her to come back, then asked God to wake her.

  Tyler closed his eyes and bowed his head, remembering the day he met Bree. She’d come up to him all bright and sparkly and asked him for a cookie. She’d also called him ‘Papa’ and was convinced that Santa had sent him to be her father. She’d always looked up to him and believed in him, even after he’d overreacted and pushed her to the ground when a sausage exploded in a microwave. Those blue eyes of hers adored him as her very own personal hero, and he could never, ever let her down. Except he had by allowing her to go under the anesthesia—even if it was for a good cause.

  Tears welled in his eyes. He wanted to be strong, but there was no response from Bree and no sound other than the beeping of the machines and Kelly’s soft sobs.

  He put his arms around Kelly and held her tight, kissing her temple. It had to be okay. It just had to be. God wouldn’t have brought Bree into their lives only to take her away.

  But the minutes passed and Bree remained in her deep sleep. And even Tyler had to admit that maybe, just maybe, this time, God wasn’t going to go their way.

  He broke down and cried, muttering under his breath. “Why, God? Why won’t you wake her up? Why can’t we have a happy ending?”

  And it was Kelly who squeezed him tight and whispered. “He will wake her up. We will have a happy ending.”

  “We will, we will,” Tyler whispered. “Please, let her wake up. Please.”

  “Mama? Papa?” a tiny voice piped. “Why are you asking God to wake me when I wasn’t sleeping?”

  30

  ~ Kelly ~

  So many emotions course through my body as I watch the curtain unfold at our church. It’s Thursday night, and even though Bree’s hip is sore, she insisted she was well enough to play her starring role as Mary.

  I still can’t stop thanking God for bringing her back to us after her anesthesia scare. News from Ford is also hopeful, with Erica reacting well to the transplant, although it’s too early to tell if it took. At least she’s not rejecting it.

  “There’s your sister,” I whisper into Arman’s ear. “Look, there’s Bree.”

  “Bwweee!” he squeals, drooling and chewing on his fist. “Bwee.”

  Yes, Bree. I love hearing her name, but Arman is disturbing the play, so I stick his pacifier into his mouth and hang onto every word coming from the stage.

  The shepherds speak as they approach the manger. Bree welcomes them while sheep making baa’ing noises. They prance around as a cow tells Bree how proud she is to give Baby Jesus a bed to sleep in.

  Two years ago, Bree was one of the sheep, and the most enthusiastic baa’s that had ever been heard came from her lungs. Last year, she’d been promoted to a speaking role, dressed as the friendly cow.

  I fan myself as pride fills my heart. Bree picks the doll symbolizing Baby Jesus up from the manger and welcomes the shepherds.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Bree says. “Why have you come to this humble stable?”

  The shepherds bow in front of her. “To worship the coming of our Lord. The angels’ proclamation led us to this lowly stable.”

  As they speak, three boys dressed as kings enter onto the stage.

  “What is the star that you’ve followed?” Bree asks the newcomers.

  “Lo, it was high up in the sky, and it leads us to our true God,” the first king answers. “Behold, we bear gifts.”

  Tyler and the rest of the parental camera crew are perched near the choir loft. I hope he captures all of these memories. Beside me, Zulu sits in rapt attention.

  She’s never been inside a Christian church, and everything is new for her. I sense an inner peace in her heart, now that she’s taking steps to receive help. The road will be long and not easy. She’ll suffer setbacks, like Tyler did, and to some extent still does.

  Except lately, he’s been stronger than me. Hmm … I better put more faith and trust in God and stop trying to stand with my own feeble strength.

  My mother taps me as one of the kings produces his gift. “Isn’t that the ring bear
er?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “There was a last minute opening.”

  “He and Bree make a cute couple,” Mom says. “I suppose first cousins, once removed, can share a kiss or two, but nothing more.”

  My mother chuckles, pleased with her granddaughter’s first suitor.

  Yes, I’ve told my mother Tyler is Bree’s biological father, but as agreed, none of us mentioned he was also Erica’s biological father. I asked Tyler how he felt, and he said he would always see Erica as his cousin’s daughter. He’d signed away his rights, and the clinic had made a mistake. Someone mistook a “T” for an “F” and pasted the wrong label on the wrong vial. Both men asked the clinic to destroy their samples to avoid further mix-ups.

  Zulu claps enthusiastically when the play is over, and I stand up with Arman to let him see his sister taking a bow on stage. All around us are our friends and fellow church members, and I feel such peace and companionship that I hardly realize the next time I step in this church will be on my wedding day.

  I glance at Zulu and say a prayer for her. Things are looking up for our family, but we haven’t heard from Sawyer on whether he’d located her sister yet.

  God can squeeze out another miracle. I only have to believe.

  ~ Tyler ~

  “Happy birthday, big boy.” Tyler dressed his son, Arman, in a little cowboy shirt, tied a kerchief around his neck, and put a baby Stetson on his head.

  Arman grabbed the cowboy hat and tossed it.

  “You gotta at least wear this for the picture.” Tyler picked it up and pretended to put it on Zulu’s head.

  “Zoo, zoo,” Arman said, grabbing for it while Zulu laughed and dodged his grasps, before letting him take it back.

  This time, when he put the hat on his son, the boy wore it proudly.

  “We better head downstairs,” Tyler said. “I hear the guests.”