To Know You (9781401688684)

by Ethridge, Shannon (CON)

  “Praise God,” Julia whispered.

  “Shut up,” Destiny said. “Just shut up.”

  “They’re trying to reach his parents up in Alaska. Apparently they’re out ice fishing somewhere. So right now, you’re next of kin. You’re the person named in his Advance Directive.”

  “Don’t say that.” Destiny pressed her hands over her ears. “I’m not doing that. They can’t make me.”

  Julia gently pried her hands down. “What, honey? What aren’t you doing?”

  “I am not pulling the plug.”

  “No one’s talking about that,” Sean said. “It’s all about getting the swelling down in his brain and then seeing if he needs surgery for a blood clot.”

  “When can I see him?”

  “They’re doing a procedure now. No, no—don’t freak, Dez. Just some normal stuff. The nurse said she’d come let me know when he can have a visitor. I’ve been trading off with some of the crew. But he’ll want you there.”

  “Thank you,” Julia said.

  “There’s a group in the coffee shop,” Sean said. “Maybe you could walk down there with me . . . they want to meet you.”

  “Who?” She looked at Julia for her cue. Her brain was so numb, her heart pounding so hard, that she felt suspended in the moment.

  Destiny was simply unable to consider that Luke might die. Luke is Your guy. So if You hate me for being hateful, have at it. But Luke . . . please God . . . Luke.

  “Let’s go meet Luke’s friends,” Julia said.

  They followed Sean out of the ICU waiting room, down the hall, took a couple turns, and came into the hospital’s coffee shop. It was jammed with people. The friends she knew hugged her. So many faces she didn’t know.

  “Who are these others?” she whispered to Sean.

  “They’re from our church.”

  Destiny let her eyes wander the crowd. Those who noticed her looking at them gave her a nod or solemn smile. They were all just people—men in flannel shirts and baseball caps, women in flowing skirts or tattered jeans. No halos, just concerned eyes and clasped hands.

  “They all came to pray,” Sean whispered. “They’re here for you too.”

  Destiny gave them a weak wave and then nodded toward the hall. “He needs me.”

  “Yes, he does,” Julia said. “We’ll go and wait.”

  “You need to go to Dillon.”

  “Shortly. First . . . we see to Luke.”

  They walked back to the ICU, two turns and down a long hall. “He . . . needs you. You shouldn’t be wasting time here.”

  “Dillon knows where I am. Check your phone. He said he left you a message.”

  Destiny pulled her phone from her pocket, listened to her voice mail.

  “Hey, fellow freak.” Dillon’s voice sounded weak, and yet so him. “I hear my man Luke had an accident. I guess he’s really your man, but I know when we meet, he’s gonna be my man too. Anyway, I wanted you to know I’m talking to God and telling Him this isn’t cool—not one bit. But Jesus is my Man, so maybe He can put in a good word. I know you’re busy, so don’t call back or anything. Just wanted you to know . . .” His voice faded. Don’t go. Not yet. She heard him cough. As he resumed the message, there was a rattle in his throat. “Just wanted you to know that I’ve got this one covered. See you soon.”

  She clicked off the phone and was in Julia’s arms because anywhere else in the world didn’t make sense.

  Friday, 9:46 p.m.

  Destiny couldn’t bear to look at Luke—his golden beard clipped, part of his head shaved. Wires and tubes everywhere. His eyes would not open, no matter how much she pleaded with him.

  He had other injuries that seemed insignificant in comparison to his fractured skull. A broken forearm, a horrible cut in his thigh that could have killed him, the nurse told her. It missed the femoral artery by a whisper. A unit of blood flowed into his IV. She was stunned that Julia hadn’t even looked at the bag because Luke’s blood type was there for anyone to see.

  The label read type A. A small mercy because Destiny couldn’t bear the thought of Luke leaving her with only his organs to continue a life so fervently lived.

  “You better go,” Destiny said. “Dillon needs you.”

  “Soon,” Julia said.

  “He’s got the greater claim.”

  “Mothers never use that measurement.”

  We’re so helpless. So confident that nothing could get to us and then a freak accident and Luke is now hanging in some balance. If it’s in God’s hand, she hoped the Almighty measured by Luke and not her.

  “What do I do about the anger?” Destiny said. “What do you do? You’re the one who tried to punch through a door, getting at God.”

  “Anger is natural. It’s nice to be able to blame stuff on God. So we acknowledge it. Not cast it like a bomb but open our hands and show it to God. Let Him deal with it.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “No, no way,” Julia said. “Because anger is like any drug—you get used to needing it to move forward.”

  “Julia.” Destiny grabbed her arm. “What if . . . you lose him?”

  “I’ll probably break my skull, battering it against the nearest thing I can find. Except . . . Matt, in his grief, would not let me. And we’ve got so many friends who would bear the anger and the grief with us. We’d get through. It would be horrible and I would be furious with God for a long time. Destiny, I have no other place to go. I can’t see it now, but I have to trust that God’s grace will be sufficient for me.”

  Destiny jerked upright. My grace is sufficient for you. She knew those words, had decided long ago that she would be sufficient. And yet, she needed Luke—and now Luke needed a miracle. Make Your grace sufficient, she prayed. Because I’ve got nothing.

  And she suddenly glimpsed the nature of sacrifice. She almost succumbed to the hypothermia—as did Luke. She had been saved from carbon monoxide poisoning by a sign, and he had been felled by one. Luke would have offered to take all this because he loved her, and would have sacrificed to save her.

  Destiny would do the same for him. Even in her anger with him or her parents or the universe or God—she would do the same for him.

  And if she could understand that, maybe she could understand what all the prayer lists and Sunday school lessons and midweek services and loving care of her parents couldn’t get through to her.

  She slid out of her chair, kneeled on the floor, and put her face on Julia’s arm. “Help me pray.”

  Julia smiled, then clasped her left hand over Destiny’s. “Of course . . .” And then she looked up, eyes shadowed, before she said, “Here’s the lady you need to pray with.”

  Destiny turned her head. “Mom,” she said and was in Melanie Connors’s arms before she took another breath. Her mother was smaller than Julia and yet felt so strong and substantial. “How did you know?”

  “Julia called me. She had already arranged a flight for me. She knew I would want to be here with you and Luke. Dad’s coming out from DC. He’ll be here soon.”

  “All of you?”

  “Of course.” Melanie stroked her hair. “We’re going to be here for as long as you need us.”

  “What about Sophie?”

  “She’s down in the coffee shop, getting a sandwich and listening to all the Luke stories.”

  Julia gathered up her bag.

  “Wait,” Destiny said and hugged her hard. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, my dear child. Thank you.”

  “I’ll . . . be praying for Dillon. It’ll be all right.”

  “Back-at-cha,” Julia said and steered Destiny into her mother’s arms.

  Fifteen

  Dallas

  Saturday, 9:15 a.m.

  Julia had taken the text from Chloe on her way to the airport in Los Angeles.

  Type A pos. I am so sorry.

  She cried for a good two hours before finding the energy to text Chloe back.

  Don’t apologize. I love you. May G
od bless you and Jack.

  She arrived in Dallas at dawn, took a cab straight to Cedar Springs Medical Center. Matt hugged her, said he’s on the top of the list. And yet—still no liver. UNOS showed two type O’s available overnight. One was in Seattle and the other in Georgia. Both jumped Dillon on the list because of geography.

  She didn’t ask how is he? because her husband’s face told her everything. He texted Pottsie and she came up from the chapel where she was keeping vigil. She prayed with Julia and Matt, kissed them both, and went back to batter heaven with her love.

  Dr. Annie hugged her and said, “We’re not out of time yet.”

  Julia would not ask how long? and glared at Matt so the words would not even enter his mind. She went into Dillon’s room, kicked off her shoes, and got into the bed with her son. His skin was dry, his belly swollen, his breath acrid. He was only hours from being past the stage where he could accept a transplant.

  He stirred when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. “Mom,” he mumbled and went back to sleep. She fell into a deep sleep, tried to fight her way out. Instead, giving in to Matt telling her that she needed her sleep too.

  You’re resting in Me now. That wasn’t her husband’s voice—though it was his will—and she let it be her will too.

  Keep my baby safe, she prayed from her dreams. Show him wonder. He loves wonder.

  And then bright sunlight shone on her face and Matt shook her awake. “Julia, Chloe is here.”

  Julia forced her eyes open and saw Chloe staring at the boy who was her brother, tears streaming down her face. Jack’s arms were tight on her waist, and somehow Julia knew that he was not holding her back—just holding her up.

  “I got tested too,” Jack said.

  “What?” Julia squinted at him.

  “I’m healthy as a horse, probably too stable psychologically, and”—he kissed Chloe’s cheek and then turned back to Julia—“I am a perfectly fine and very qualified type-O donor.”

  Sixteen

  Los Angeles

  Columbus Day Weekend

  People make bargains when they’re dying.

  “We try to measure the cost of our lives,” was how Dr. Annie explained it. “Then we try to offer some pledge in payment, thinking we can buy them back.”

  Dillon had made a ton of bargains. If you save me, heavenly Father, think of what I’ll do for You.

  I’ll be good.

  I’ll do good.

  I’ll go on missions to leper hospitals.

  I’ll become a leper by dating the girl in school who smells like mothballs and looks like a hairball.

  None of it was necessary because Dillon’s life had already been paid for. When he was so sick it hurt to breathe, when the toxins overflowed into his blood, when his abdomen felt like it would explode, Jesus was the promise who—one way or another—would get him home.

  When he could think straight again, when his skin was pink instead of yellow, and when the only pain in his gut was from the staples sealing in his new liver, he made one last deal.

  I will live—not pretend, not hide, not doubt, not be scared—I will really live.

  Unfortunately, his parents took a dim view of really living and refused to buy him a motorcycle. But coming to Los Angeles—all by himself—was a big step in their independence from hospitals and procedures and making their own bargains.

  And how cool was Hollywood? Okay, the tourist stuff was tacky in a cheap T-shirt kind of way, but when Luke took him on a shoot—cool beyond cool. Dillon and Jack had recovered two months before Luke. All that rehab. Sometimes Luke would Skype with Dillon during his therapy. Giving you material for your next movie, Luke said.

  Luke wanted company. Not that he or Dillon would admit it. With Destiny back at work, Luke found it easier to huff and puff and fall down and get up with someone else with him. Dillon knew what it was like to shuffle through sickness. Not cool, not one bit.

  Destiny had made a bargain too. Save Luke, and I’ll give You a try, she promised. He did, so she did, and Dillon went to church with them yesterday and rocked it out something wicked. That was Dez’s term—a phrase she’d picked up from her Boston birth-father.

  This family thing was good, but a little complicated.

  Dillon had gone from being an only child to part of an extended family you needed frequent-flyer miles to keep up with. Two sisters. One brother-in-law, blood brother now because they shared a liver. A soon-to-be brother-in-law who had to be the coolest dude on the left side of the Mississippi. Three somewhat-brothers from Chloe’s side, that she was working up her courage to meet. Three kind-of sisters from Destiny’s side.

  This was nothing any of them bargained for. Good thing everyone was cool with it.

  A motorcycle would make his joy complete. When you’re eighteen, Luke had said, we’ll ride up the coast.

  Over my dead body, Mom had said, then sputtered an apology when she realized she was talking to two guys who had come back from their own dead bodies. It was all pretty comical and pretty amazing when you thought about it.

  It’d been a good couple of days. Making aliens with Destiny on Hollywood’s next blockbuster was so amazing, Dillon was nearly breathless. Watching Luke do the motorcycle routine on his shoot made Dillon’s knees weak. What if he falls again? Except that was the point of the stunt and Luke crashed, burned, and ate a hamburger and salad from the food truck like it was just another day at the office.

  This afternoon was beach time. Dez and Luke had something planned because Dillon was supposed to bring his handheld camera and his laptop with satellite hookup. Now that he was healthy, his parents buying him expensive equipment would probably stop. In another year or so, he’d get a part-time job and buy his own editing software.

  Or maybe a motorcycle.

  So this trip to the beach—maybe Luke would give him a surfing lesson and maybe stream it to Dallas? That was probably it. Dez would love to see him flop for a good laugh. He’d show them and use it in his next film. Samson in the Surf had a nice ring to it.

  Dillon set the laptop on a blanket about ten feet from the water. The surf was mild here, barely a curl. Probably Dad had scared Luke into taking it easy. Shouldn’t he have a wet suit or something? It was October, after all. Seventy degrees, but Dillon was just starting to put on weight, so it was hard to keep warm.

  Luke and Destiny stood ankle deep in the water. Arms around each other’s waist, they stared silently over the Pacific.

  “I’m set up,” Dillon said.

  Luke grinned, joined him on the sand. “Link us up to Dallas, Tennessee, and North Carolina. Use that link I e-mailed you this morning.”

  Dillon clicked, brought up icons for the three streams. “What’s this about?” Dad asked once he was connected.

  “No clue,” Dillon said.

  Chloe and Jack popped up. “Hey, bro,” Jack said. Chloe looked completely relaxed, not the sister Dillon knew those first couple of weeks as Jack recovered from the transplant. She had done the unthinkable—backtracked in college to be what she called a super-freshman in Duke’s engineering program. Only Dad could understand what Jack studied in grad school—they were tight and could chat for hours.

  While Dillon was still in the hospital, Dad and Jack had a lot of hush-hush conversations. Mom said they hired a forensic computer investigator to track back to some dude who apparently stole something from Chloe. With Dad’s help, Jack set an online trap and caught the thief red-handed as he tried to drain from a Deschene charity account. The arrest resulted in the seizure of the guy’s equipment and files.

  “What did he take?” Dillon had asked his mother.

  “Chloe will explain someday. Not today.”

  Usually Dillon hated answers like that. Something about Mom’s face told him to let it go. If Chloe wanted to tell him someday, fine. Otherwise, things were cool just like they were.

  Destiny’s parents appeared on the third screen, with her sister Sophie. He had met Mrs. Connors
once, when they had all visited Luke at Easter.

  “Hey,” Sophie said.

  “Yeah,” Dillon said, wishing his voice would get through the squeaking phase.

  “Everybody up?” Luke said.

  “Online,” Dillon said.

  Luke waved to someone down the beach. The pastor of their church? He was a cool enough guy but didn’t seem like a surfer. He trotted toward them.

  “Okay, Dil,” Luke said. “You film us.”

  Dillon pressed all the right buttons and the camera went live on the stream. “Testing,” he said, waiting for a wave from each location. “Go,” he told Luke. “We’re live.”

  He pointed the camera at Luke, the shot following him and the pastor into the water, and then thought, What a dope I am. Should have seen this coming.

  The pastor pressed one hand to Luke’s chest and one to his back, and even though Luke towered over him, the man easily laid him back into the water. Luke came up sputtering and smiling.

  He turned to Destiny. She grinned as Luke guided her into the water and the pastor said those cool words about being baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

  She came up, dripping and whooping, arms above her head. Dillon heard applause and happy sounds from his laptop—the families who had stood witness.

  The motorcycle can wait a few years.

  This was really living.

  Reading Group Guide

  1. What stereotypes are generally assigned to a woman who gets pregnant out of wedlock—not once but twice? Seeing what kind of person Julia turned out to be in spite of her earlier choices, do you think that such stereotypes are accurate or fair?

  2. What lessons can women learn from the account of Julia’s young-adult years? What kinds of vulnerabilities can women experience when they are enamored with a man and the hope of having a future together?

  3. What can we glean from how Julia grew into a mature, successful businesswoman with a strong marriage and family of her own? What does this reveal about God’s nature?

  4. Describe what character traits would be required in order to so valiantly face such a painful sexual past in hopes of saving your child’s future? How do we develop such character traits?