by Loree Lough
Lily nodded, feeling an odd mix of confusion and gratitude. For years, she’d dreamed of being Mrs. Maxwell Sheridan…but this wasn’t the way she’d pictured it happening.
Dr. Prentice blasted through the pastel-striped curtains, clipboard in one hand, stethoscope in the other. “So who do we have here?” he said, wiggling Nate’s toes. He draped his stethoscope around his shoulders and slid a pair of black-framed half-glasses from his lab coat pocket. “Says here your name is Nathan,” he said, squinting at the chart. “Okay if I call you Nate?”
Smiling feebly, the boy nodded.
Dr. Prentice balanced the glasses atop his balding dome. “Well, Nate, we’re gonna run a few tests, see what put you in here. And once we find out, we’ll do everything we can to make sure it never happens again. Whaddaya say to that?”
The smile broadened slightly as Nate gave another nod.
The doctor faced Max, held out a hand. “I see you’ve already signed the necessary consent forms, so there’s no reason to keep him waiting.” He winked at Nate. “We’ll get you home fast as we can, okay?” Waving Lily and Max nearer, he perched on the corner of the gurney and addressed his comments to Nate. “Here’s what we’re gonna do: First, we’re gonna show you all sorts of neat machines. X-ray, electrocardiogram, echocardiogram. Nate, m’boy, you’re gonna feel like you’re the star of a science-fiction movie!” He wiggled the boy’s toes again. “Now, I know you’ve seen all this stuff on TV, so I really don’t need to tell you that not one of these tests is gonna hurt, not even a little bit—right?”
A look of wide-eyed fascination brightened Nate’s pale face.
“After we’re finished with the big gizmos, we’ll do a couple of blood tests. Ever stick yourself with a pin, kiddo?”
“Yessir. And once, when my dad and me were fishing, I got a fishhook stuck in my thumb.” He showed the doctor a tiny crescent-shaped scar.
“Man,” Dr. Prentice said. “How’d you ever get the hook out?”
“Dad cut the sharp part off with pliers.”
“Wow. Bet you cried buckets.”
“I didn’t cry at all, did I, Dad.”
Max grabbed Nate’s hand. “Not a single tear. You were tough as nails.”
“I’m impressed,” the surgeon said. “And that run-in with the fishhook? I can absolutely guarantee the blood tests won’t hurt nearly as much! Just a teeny tiny pinprick, one for each test. You think you can handle that?”
Nate lifted his chin. “Sure. No sweat,” he said, grinning to prove his bravery.
“Well, we might as well get busy, then. Sooner we get started, sooner you can go home.” He stuck his head out into the hall and summoned a tall, lanky orderly. “George, drive my friend Nate here to the X-ray department, will ya?”
“Can…can my dad come, too?”
Hearing the tremor in Nate’s voice, Lily grabbed his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back.
“The more the merrier,” Dr. Prentice said. With that, he strode from the cubicle, white lab coat flapping behind him.
“Gotta oil these wheels,” George said as the gurney squeaked down the hall. “Sounds like somebody ridin’ over and over a mouse’s tail, don’t it!”
Nate grinned. “Yeah. A mouse’s tail.” He giggled softly.
“You’ll like Doc Prentice. He’s the best.”
When Lily let go of Nate so George could steer the gurney into the elevator, Max grabbed her hand. “Thanks,” he whispered.
“For what?” she whispered back.
He only shrugged. “Just…thanks.” And as his son had done moments before, Max squeezed her hand.
She wanted Max to be happy, the way he was back in high school. Wanted Nate to be safe and healthy, too. Lily stared at the toes of her white sneakers. Everything’s going to be all right, she said to herself. The Lord will see to it. He makes miracles happen every day, right?
But she knew only too well, having lost her mother when she was barely Nate’s age, that not every story has a miracle ending. She closed her eyes tight. If anyone needs to witness a miracle, Lord, she prayed, it’s Max.
“I know I neglected to tell Nate about the catheterization earlier, but I honestly didn’t think we’d need one. The test results make it necessary.” Dr. Prentice leaned against a wall in the small waiting room as Max and Lily sat woodenly on orange and blue upholstered chairs.
“Sounds painful,” Max said.
“I won’t lie to you…it’s not comfortable. But I’ll give him a local anesthetic, and a mild sedative, as well. He’ll be loose as a goose by the time we do the procedure—probably be asleep through the whole test.”
Lily leaned forward. “Will we be able to stay with him the whole time?”
“I don’t have a problem with that, long as you don’t mind gowning and masking up.” The doctor pulled a chair around to face them and sat down. “That kid is a real trouper, all right.” A look of genuine admiration crossed his face. “He’s seen half a dozen technicians this afternoon alone, who introduced him to some weird-lookin’ gizmos. Most kids don’t come through it the way Nate did. He’s brave, that boy of yours.”
Lily bit her lower lip, wondering if now was the time to ’fess up, admit she wasn’t Nate’s mother. Max slid an arm behind her, as he had in the E.R. cubicle.
“He’s truly a gift from God,” she said instead.
The words were no sooner out than Max withdrew, sat forward and leaned both elbows on his knees. “How’d this happen?” he asked. “I mean, what caused Nate’s fainting spell?”
“Well, I won’t know for sure until all the rest of the test results are in,” Dr. Prentice said, mimicking Max’s pose, “but from everything I’ve seen so far, it looks to me like he has an atrial septal defect…a hole in his heart.”
Max swallowed so hard that Lily heard it from where she sat.
“A hole in his heart? Why hasn’t he shown symptoms before now?”
“I wish I had some concrete answers for you, Mr. Sheridan, but the fact is, we don’t know for sure. Some kids are born with it. In other cases, a bacterial or viral infection is the cause. The thing to remember is, we can usually repair things, and most kids grow up to live perfectly normal lives.”
Max hung his head. “Should I have known? I mean…” He ran both hands through his hair. “If I’d been on the ball, would I have noticed something, and maybe headed this off?”
“Absolutely not. Kids get fevers and colds, and most of the time, the stuff clears up and goes away. Other times, some damage gets done. There’s no reason to beat yourself up because there’s absolutely no way you could have predicted this.”
Dr. Prentice faced Lily. “I must say, Mrs. Sheridan, you’re awfully calm and quiet.” He smiled. “Now I see where your boy gets his stoicism. Can I answer any questions about your boy?”
“Much as I wish it were true, Nate isn’t my boy,” she blurted. “I’m just a friend of the family.”
“Not just a friend,” Max put in. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you today.”
The doctor continued his explanation. “The catheterization isn’t as gruesome as it sounds. We’ll insert a small plastic tube in through Nate’s groin, moving it slowly until it reaches his heart. Then we’ll take some blood samples and measure blood pressure through the catheter. We’ll inject some blue fluid through the tube into a blood vessel in his heart. The fancy word for the process is angiocardiography. But in plain language, it’s an X-ray that’ll let us see what’s wrong with Nate’s li’l ticker.”
“How long will it take?” Lily asked.
“Oh, an hour, maybe two, usually.”
“And how long before we can talk to him?”
“Takes a few hours for the sedative to wear off. He might wake up with a slight fever, an upset stomach, so don’t be concerned. That’ll all pass in a couple of hours, too. And by that time, I should have the rest of the test results back, and we can talk about treatment.”
“Treatme
nt?” Max’s voice was thick with emotion.
“Could be we’ll find it’s not a large enough hole to require anything further. Or, he might just need surgery. But let’s not put the cart ahead of the horse, okay?” He grabbed one of Max’s wrists with his right hand, one of Lily’s with his left. “No sense getting all worried and upset until there’s a good reason for it. And I see no reason for it at this juncture.”
Max inhaled a deep breath and held it, while Lily rubbed soothing circles on his back. Dr. Prentice got to his feet. “Get some rest,” the doctor said. “Hopefully, you won’t need it.”
But his “just in case” warning was clear, all the same.
He walked backward down the hall, talking as he went. “See you bright and early. I’ve scheduled the procedure for 8:00 a.m.” He saluted, then rounded a corner and disappeared.
Lily and Max sat in stunned silence. “You want to get back to Nate?” she finally asked.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Poor kid’s probably wondering what’s going on.” He turned to face her. “You don’t have to stay. I know you have a ton of stuff to do, what with your animals and all.”
She didn’t want to leave him, not for a minute, not even for her beloved animals. And from the look on his face, Max didn’t want her to go, either.
Lily rested a hand on his forearm. “Cammi has helped out more times than I can count. She knows what needs to be done.”
He rubbed his eyes. “You sure? ’Cause I can hitch a ride with—”
She flipped open her cell phone. “I’ll only be a minute.”
He stood slowly. “Thanks. You’re—”
“—dialing Cammi. Now go,” she said, shooing him with her free hand.
Max grabbed her fingertips, pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Aw, Lily, why can’t life be simple?” He breathed into her hair. When he stepped back, there were tears in his eyes. He swiped at them, then shook his head. “Go on. Make your call. I’ll meet you in Nate’s room.”
She watched him walk down the hall, head low, hands pocketed. Her heart ached for him…and throbbed with love for him, as well.
Chapter Four
Lily made the call to Cammi as she headed for the hospital chapel. With her sister’s promise to “pinch hit” for as long as need be echoing in her ears, she knelt in the front row and recalled the way Max had looked, sitting in front of Dr. Prentice. Someday, maybe she’d understand what had turned him from happy-go-lucky boy into a serious, no-nonsense man.
“Lord,” she prayed, “help me know how to comfort Max. Give me the words to reach him, and guide me in knowing when to speak those words.” For now, she’d simply be his friend.
Invigorated by her decision, she hurried back to Nate’s room. The four-year-old was sleeping peacefully when she peeked in, so Lily tiptoed inside and stood beside Max. “How’s he doing?” she whispered.
“Fine,” he said softly, “all things considered.”
“Any news from the doctor?”
He shook his head.
She looked at Nate. “Natural sleep, or drug-induced?”
Max pointed at the plastic tubing connected to the bag hanging above Nate’s bed. “Sedative. Nurse told me he’d be out most of the night.”
“Let’s go to the cafeteria, then—get you a sandwich and something to wash it down with.” She took his hand. “You haven’t had a bite all day.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, have you?”
“I had breakfast….”
His usually strong voice sounded forlorn. “Remember what Dr. Prentice said.”
“What?”
“He said you needed to rest because you might need it later.”
“Oh, that,” Max said. “I’m not tired. Besides, he said we, not me.”
“Anyone would be tired after six hours in a hospital,” she said, tugging his arm. “Especially when you’ve spent most of them pacing.”
When he got to his feet, she added, “Dr. Prentice was right, you know. No matter what those tests tell us, Nate is going to need you at one hundred percent.”
He glanced at the boy, whose small chest rose and fell with each soft breath. “He still looks so pale.”
Sandwiching Max’s hands between her own, Lily forced him to meet her eyes. “You have to believe he’ll be fine, have faith that everything will turn out all right!”
She watched as his dark, long-lashed eyes bore into hers. If she didn’t know better, Lily would have said it was love beaming back at her. But, of course, it wasn’t, she told herself. Gratitude, maybe. Exhaustion, even. But love? Who was she kidding!
His stomach growled just then, making them both grin.
“I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but…” She laughed. “Let’s get something into you before you have everyone thinking there’s a grizzly bear loose in Pediatrics.”
A sad smile was his answer. He looked at Nate again. “I don’t want to leave him. What if he wakes up?”
She could have hugged him right then. “Okay, I’ll go to the cafeteria, bring you a sandwich and a soft drink.” Lily headed for the door. “Or would you prefer coffee?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Then he said, “Thanks, Lily.”
“You’re beginning to sound like a broken record,” she teased. “Really, there’s nothing to thank me for. What are friends for, after all!”
He slouched back into the chair beside his sleeping son’s bed. “You’re way past being a friend. Way past.”
How far past friend? she wondered as she walked toward the elevator. Dare she hope?
No. Especially not now. Max was worried, confused. It simply wasn’t fair to expect him to talk rationally under such stressful circumstances. Wasn’t fair to expect him to talk about anything but his son. Maybe when all this ended and Nate was home again, safe and sound, then she’d hope. Maybe. Meanwhile, she’d support Max in any way possible, do anything for him she could.
How could she help him most right now?
First, by getting some nourishment into him, and when he’d had his fill, she’d suggest a much-needed nap. And while he slept, she’d pray.
The image of Nate, melting to the floor at Georgia’s, flashed in her mind. No flu bug had caused his collapse.
Yes, she’d pray, because she had a feeling Max was going to need all the God-given strength he could get these next few days.
Max alternated between pacing the gray-tiled waiting room floor and fidgeting in the itchy upholstered chairs. Lily, on the other hand, sat beside him, calm and quiet, leafing through her Bible.
He found it hard to believe she’d brought the thing along. Did she always carry it with her? Well, he was glad if she found comfort in its gilt-edged pages. Hadn’t been so long ago he found solace there himself. No, it had been years ago, before life taught him that consolation—what little the world had to offer—came by dint of his own determination and the sweat of his own brow.
He leaned back in the chair, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out in front of him. This waiting would drive him nuts, if Lily hadn’t decided to stay with him. He peeked over at her, watched how intently she focused on God’s Word. Maybe she’d be spared the hard lessons that had taught him prayer was an exercise in futility.
It hadn’t saved his dad, who’d devoted himself to the church and spent every spare moment in prayer, hadn’t saved his brother, who’d joined the seminary, intent on becoming a missionary—and died when the Africa-bound plane crashed. Didn’t protect Georgia from being widowed at a young age, though she’d devoted her life to the church.
And it hadn’t saved his marriage.
Max leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. If he believed in prayer, he’d say one now, to silence the memories whispering at the corners of his mind.
Long before she’d started to threaten suicide, and had been under psychiatric care for her depression, Melissa had tested the limits of his patience, spending more than they could afford, disappearing for
days on end, then bringing unwholesome types home with her. They had no place else to stay, she’d insist. “We can’t call ourselves Christians if we turn our backs on the needy!”
The “needy” kept her too busy to cook or do laundry. If any cleaning got done around the house, it was Max who did it—after a long, hard day at the office. Mostly, he took it on the chin and prayed for patience…until Nate was born. Then he prayed motherhood would change her.
It did not.
His prayer life ended that awful evening when he came home from work and found her, lounging on the family room sofa with her latest needy person…while Nate stood crying in his playpen, soiled diaper hanging loose from his pudgy body and a bent cigarette in his dimpled hand.
Max prayed for forbearance as he cleaned tobacco bits from his son’s weeping face and chubby fingers. Prayed for strength as he tucked the baby into his crib. Prayed for self-control, so he wouldn’t do more than boot her latest long-haired friend out of the house.
As he tossed the man’s guitar case and duffel bag onto the lawn, Melissa said, “You’ve embarrassed and humiliated me for the last time, Max Sheridan.” She tossed the musician’s rumpled T-shirts and tattered jeans into a brown paper bag. “If I can’t even choose my own friends, then tell me, what do I have to live for!” Tucking the sack under her arm, she stormed out of the house.
Max flung open the door and followed her onto the porch. “What about Nate?” he’d called after her. “You leaving him, too?”
She had turned halfway down the walk to face him. “Yes, I guess I am.”
She’d made him angry before in their five-year marriage, a hundred times, but never like that. “You don’t deserve a kid as great as Nate.”
“Maybe not, but he’s stuck with me, thanks to your insistence that we make a baby!”
White-hot rage burned in him as she climbed into the front seat of her ruddy-faced visitor’s pickup. “Maybe you’re right, Melissa. Maybe you don’t have anything to live for.” Then he’d slammed the front door so hard that the impact cracked both narrow windows beside it.
