Another Dawn (23 page)

I dreamed about that morning when I had stood with the white plastic EPT stick in my hand, staring at the double lines across the window. Positive. It couldn’t be true. Chase and I had used precautions so something like this wouldn’t happen. And now, barely a month into my second year of college, my goal of free living and having fun was over.

That night, Chase and I both worked the late shift at the ocean-front restaurant where we’d met the past year. I had cleared the last of my tables and cleaned my station when he came up behind me and wrapped me in his arms. “You want to come over tonight?”

And I did. I wanted the comfort of his love and support. He was all I had in the world. “Mmm. Sounds good.”

“I’ll grab some beer and we can go sit on the beach first. There’s a full moon tonight.” He disappeared behind the bar and came back with two plastic cups topped with foam. He handed one to me. “Here’s to us.” We touched the cups together and he threw back a good swallow. Then another. He looked at my still full cup. “What’s up with you?”

“I probably shouldn’t drink this.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie’s in the back.” Our boss had a strict rule about underage drinking by employees. Since I was only twenty, I fell under this rule—not that I hadn’t broken it every time I found an opportunity.

“It’s not that. I guess I’m not supposed to drink anymore. You see, I found out today, I’m . . . pregnant.”

“What?” He tossed back the rest of his beer and took the one from my hands.

“I’m pregnant.”

He drank about half the cup’s contents before he said, “Who’s the father?”

How I managed to remain upright after the blow from this question would always remain a mystery to me. There had never been anyone but Chase. Never. “You are.”

He shook his head. “You can try that line on someone else, because I’m not buying it.” He walked from the restaurant and never looked back. Not at our relationship. Not at me. Not at our baby.

My father’s response, when I finally got the nerve to call him, was more or less what I’d expected. “If you’re going to live that way, you can pay for your own college from now on. I’m not paying for wild partying. I was paying for an education.”

So I drove out of the city of Santa Barbara, away from my job, away from my school, just trying to escape from it all. Somehow I ended up on a deserted stretch of beach just outside Ventura. I sat there and cried and cried and cried.

After I’d finally spent every last tear, I began to look around. I was stunned when I turned to look behind me. There was what appeared to be a giant Victorian mansion, sitting on a neatly manicured lawn, bordered by a white picket fence. I walked across the sand to get a closer look. Absolutely stunning. I noticed a sign on the fence gate, so I walked closer.
Guests of the Blue Pacific Inn Only
it read in white letters against a navy blue background. I stood there for a moment, considering climbing over the fence because I was really curious about the place.

“Can I help you?” An older woman, sophisticated-looking in an unpretentious way, walked over to me. She wore a white linen tunic and pants, and a wide-brimmed straw hat bordered by a blue ribbon. Apparently she’d been sitting beneath one of the trees bordering the property.

I shook my head, embarrassed to have been caught. “No thanks, I was just admiring the place.” I was certain at that point that I looked a mess. My eyes were red from crying; the sand was clinging to my wet cheeks.

“I’m glad you like it. My husband and I own it. You want to come look around?”

I shook my head. “That’s really nice, but I’ve got to get going.”

“Are you sure? Do you have time to do me a really fast favor? Our chef has been experimenting with different recipes for muffins and scones. Would you be willing to come take a quick taste test?”

“I . . . guess so.”

She held the gate open. “You live around here?”

I shook my head. “I go to Santa Barbara City College, or at least I did.”

We approached the three-story building with dormers, a cupola, and grape arbors. “This is the most beautiful place I think I’ve ever seen.”

“I think so, too.”

As I followed her inside, I had the distinct impression that there was more going on here than I could see. Turned out I was right. I found out months later that she had seen me crying on the beach and just couldn’t shake the impression she needed to do something to help me.

After I’d tasted some of the most delicious breakfast breads I’d ever tasted in my life, she said, “So, tell me, what is your major?”

I shrugged. “I guess I don’t have one now.”

“What do you mean?”

I looked at my feet. “I just found out I’m pregnant. My boyfriend, or should I say ex-boyfriend, doesn’t want any part of it. My father has told me he won’t pay for my school anymore. So my focus now is going to be finding a job.”

“That’s funny. We’ve been looking for an on-site receptionist. There’s a small apartment out back in the carriage house that is included with the position. Would you be interested?”

Just like that. To someone she’d just met. And that was the kind of woman Mrs. Fulton was.

When I awoke, thinking about all they’d done for me, I realized that over the years there had already been some hailstones thrown on my behalf. Mrs. Fulton had “felt like” she should come help me; Patti had “felt like” she should buy the paper just months before this all happened. I’d been so busy with the uphill of that battle, I’d never really thought about the extraordinary provision in the midst of it.

“Thank you, Father. Please keep those hailstones coming.”

The phone rang early the next morning. I ran in to pick it up and saw Private Caller on the caller ID. Probably Jana or Rob. “Hello?”

I could hear a baby’s screams in the background. Short, bursting cries.

“Jana? Rob?”

No answer but the baby’s continued crying.

“Who is this?”

“How can you live with yourself, knowing what you’ve done to our children?” The man’s raspy voice shook with anger. “Pack up your granola and get back where you belong.”

The line went dead.

I sat there staring at the phone, my hand shaking. It started ringing again almost immediately. Private Caller. My whole body shook as I simply waited for it to stop ringing.

“What are you doing? Answer the stupid thing, for crying out loud.” My father thumped into the room and reached across me for the phone.

“Dad, don’t—”

“Hello.” He looked at me for a few seconds, then nodded. “Well, that sounds good. Uh-huh, uh-huh.” He waited again. “All right. I’ll talk to you in a bit. Thanks for calling.” He hung up and looked at me. “That was Rob.”

“What’d he say?”

“Hannah’s oxygen levels are up; her blood tests are looking better. They started weaning her off the vent early this morning. If she continues to tolerate it, they may be able to try turning it off maybe tomorrow. Looks like she might be past the worst of it.”

I collapsed against the counter, relief washing over me. “Thank God. Thank you, God.” I’d never meant the words more.

“They had to turn the ventilator back up.” Rob’s voice sounded . . . broken. It was the only word that applied.

“What happened?” I asked.

“They started weaning her, and at first it was looking good. But then, everything went south.”

I pictured my little niece with all those tubes in her body, gasping desperately for her next breath. “Should we come up there? We’ll be up there in a heartbeat if you need us.”

“No, my parents are both here. There’s not much we can do at this point besides wait it out. I’ll call you if anything else comes up. For now, just sit tight.”

“Okay. Just know we’re praying for her. And the two of you.”

“Thanks, we could all use it.” The line clicked.

I looked at my father and shook my head. “They had to turn the ventilator back up.”

He rubbed his forehead. “That kid never seems to get a break, does she?”

I heard the sound of Dylan’s coughing as he came down the hall. “How’s Hannah Rose?”

“She’s hanging in there, buddy, but she’s not ready to be off the breathing machine just yet.”

“I got to pray harder.” He turned and walked back to his room. A couple minutes later I peeked in. He was beside his bed, on his knees, hands folded. I walked in, knelt beside him, and prayed my heart out.

Twelve hours later, we got the call.

“They were trying to wean Hannah from the vent again, and she actually started breathing on her own, over top of the ventilator. They turned it off, took it out, and she’s holding her own pretty well. The doctor says she might even be home in a few days.”

“Oh, Rob, I’m so relieved. How is Jana?”

“She actually fell asleep on the cot in the room. I think it’s the first time she’s really slept since this started.”

“Give both of them a hug for me, okay?”

“You can bet I will.”

I hung up the phone and turned to my father and Dylan, who both sat waiting for news. “Hannah is off the respirator, holding her own. Looks like she’s definitely turned the corner.”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Dylan jumped in the air and pumped his fists. Finally, he looked at me. “What does that mean exactly?”

I ruffled his hair. “Well, for one thing, it means we’re heading home.”

I picked up the phone to see if I could move our flight up to tomorrow.

“Hannah’s finally coming home from the hospital tomorrow, and you’re leaving town today.” My father hadn’t liked it when I made the arrangements last night, and it still bothered him a day later. He shook his head as if this were the most foolish thing he’d ever heard of.

“Gosh, Dad, it almost sounds like you want me around.” I shrugged. “They need me back at work. I would say I wanted to stay for a while so I could help Jana, but I think she still needs some space. I’m not running out on her; I’m respecting her wishes. The least I can do is give her that.”

“Good-bye, Grandpa. I love you.” Dylan threw his arms around my father’s waist.

“I’m going to miss you, buddy. You come back soon, you hear? We’ve got to get some fishing in, and we’ve got to finish our project.”

“You got it.” Dylan smiled up at him.

“Okay, you two, it’s time to come clean about this project. What is it?”

My father nodded toward the detached garage, then looked down at Dylan. “Should we show her?”

Dylan nodded. “Yeah, I think she’s ready.”

The two of them led me inside the place where I expected to see a lawn mower and a weed eater, and those things were there. They were just shoved against the wall to make room for . . . what was it? “Uh, what is that?”

“It’s our grass house.” Dylan’s chest puffed out as he said it. “Grandpa and I have been sneaking out here and building it every time you left the house. Even when I was pretty sick and Grandpa was still on his walker we worked on it. Didn’t we, Grandpa?”

Dad looked at me, gauging my reaction. “We sure did.”

“A grass house?” It was only the frame of a building, so I had no idea what its final intention was.

Dad nodded toward it. “We knew how you felt about climbing trees, so we decided that instead of a tree house, we’d build a clubhouse that we could put on the grass. We were calling it our grass house.”

“Dad, it must have been excruciating for you to work on this.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t nothing.”

I hugged Dylan tight. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

He wrapped his arms around my neck and I stood up, carrying him on my hip. I looked at my father, completely stunned. “Good-bye, Dad.” I sort of petted him on the shoulder—the closest we ever really came to a hug.

“See ya.”

I looked at him then, and I knew there was something I had to say. “Dad, I . . . love you.”

His expression told me he was more shocked to hear that than I was to say it. He simply looked at me, unmoving, for what seemed like forever. Then I noticed a hint of moisture on the rims of his eyes. He grabbed me and wrapped both Dylan and me in a hug so tight it hurt. A lot. “I love you so much.” His voice shook when he said it. “So much.” He released me then and pulled back. He looked toward my car and nodded. “You best get moving or you’re going to miss your plane.”

“You’re right.” I loaded Dylan into his seat.

“Can I ask you one thing?” My father had come up behind me. “I don’t mean to make you mad or anything, but I’m really curious about something.”

“What?”

“If you had it to do over again, would you give Dylan his shots?”

I looked at my father, at the sincerity of the question on his face. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that, and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure. One thing I do know is I’d spend some time praying about it, rather than just sampling the provisions.”

“Huh?”

I laughed and hugged him one last time. “You’ll have to get Mrs. Fellows to explain that one. Bye, Dad.”

“Bye.” He stood in the driveway and waved until we were out of sight.

“Mama, this looks like the way we go to the hospital. See, there’s that man on the horse that we always pass.”

I glanced toward the statue of the Confederate general who appeared to be shooting at someone. Me, perhaps? He would be in good company at this point. “The hospital is near here, darling, you’re right.”

“Can’t we go say good-bye to Hannah Rose? It doesn’t seem polite not to—you always make me say good-bye when we’re leaving somewhere. Remember? ‘You gotta have
good manners
.’ ” He said the last two words with enough exaggeration that I had no doubt how he felt about them.

“We don’t really have time, Dylan. We’ve got to return the rental car and then get checked in for our flight.”

“Please. It won’t take long to say bye, will it?”

I looked at the clock in the dashboard. Two forty glowed at me in pale blue light. In truth, we did have time for a very quick visit, but Jana didn’t want to see me. Besides, Rob’s parents were there; they didn’t need us now. “I just don’t think we can do it today. I’m sorry, darling.”

“You don’t sound sorry.” I didn’t have to look in the rearview mirror to know that his arms were crossed and his bottom lip turned out.

“That was an amazing clubhouse you and Grandpa have been making. I can’t believe you kept it secret from me all this time.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” The acknowledgment was delivered in a pouty tone.

“Maybe at Christmas we can come back and you can work on it some more. Okay?”

“Really?” Now he was perking back up. “Really?”

“No promises, but I think we’ll look into it.”

He sat silently for a while, sort of mumbling something under his breath. “Hey, Mama? What did that mean—that thing you said to Grandpa about . . . stamping pigeons?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “
Sampling
. And not pigeons.
Provisions
. Basically, it means that instead of doing what seems to be the smart thing to do, I would spend some time praying to God about it and seeing if that’s what He thinks is right.”

“Did you do that about saying good-bye?”

“What?”

“To Hannah Rose. Is that why you won’t go to the hospital now, because the pigeons told you not to?”

The question stunned me. And worried me, too. If my four-year-old managed to see through me so easily now, what would he be like in a few years? Yes, less than an hour after I’d made that statement to my father, I was once again trying to do things my own way without bothering to ask God about it.

I tugged at Dylan’s hand, but it was hardly necessary. He was in a bigger hurry than I was. He walked past the train in the lobby without a second glance. “I can’t wait to see Hannah Rose, can you, Mama?”

“Remember, I told you we probably won’t get a chance to see her.”

“But Grandpa said she’s not in intensive care anymore. I can visit her now, right?”

“But there is other family in town; the room will be full and noisy. They might not want us in—”

“Grace. Grace, is that you?”

Rob’s parents were coming down the hallway toward us. “It’s so good to see you.” Rob’s mother gave me a hug. “We didn’t know you were coming here today.”

“We weren’t really planning to, but we were on our way to the airport and decided to make a quick stop.”

“Good for you.” She bent toward Dylan. “Haven’t you grown up since I saw you last?”

Dylan hid behind my legs. I touched the top of his head. “It’s okay, honey, these are Uncle Rob’s parents.”

Dylan leaned out just slightly. “Really? Where is Uncle Rob?”

“He’s in the room with your aunt Jana and our granddaughter. We came down to get a bite to eat.”

“Okay. Bye.” Dylan had already darted out from behind me and was moving toward the elevators, obviously delighted by the fact that he wasn’t going to have to share Hannah with any grandparents.

“Good to see you,” I called over my shoulder as I let my son drag me down the hall.

A moment later, we pushed inside Hannah’s room. She still had an IV line in her arm and the light clip attached to her toe. Her breathing still looked labored, but it was better than before.

Rob got up to give us both hugs. He pointed to Jana—asleep in a recliner beside the bed—and put his finger over his lips. He picked up Dylan and whispered very softly, “I didn’t know we’d be seeing you today.”

“Me and Mama prayed about pro-pigeons and decided it was what God wanted.” He whispered this in a very matter-of-fact tone, then leaned to look around Rob’s shoulder. “How is she?”

“Better. Both she and her mama are asleep, but you can go over to her crib and look if you’ll be really quiet.” He set Dylan on his feet.

“Okay. Got it.” Dylan leaned forward then back with each step as he demonstrated his best tip-toeing technique.

Rob came over and gave a quick squeeze around my shoulders. My eyes burned with the pressure of unshed tears, but I forced them back. “I’m so sorry, Rob, about all this.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I know.” He pulled away and nodded toward Jana. “Do you want us to leave the room so you can wake up your sister and say good-bye?”

I looked at her—neck at almost ninety degrees as her head rested on the right chair arm. I wanted to talk to her so badly, but she needed rest. Now was not the time. This was not the place. I shook my head. “She needs the sleep and we need to get moving. Will you tell her I was here? That I love her? That I . . . ”

Rob nodded. “I’ll tell her.”

We flew into Los Angeles and rode the Air Bus back to Ventura. By the time we got home it was almost eight o’clock at night—this was ten o’clock by the Central Time Zone we’d adjusted to. I was exhausted, yet Dylan, who had slept a good bit of the plane ride, was amped. All I wanted to do was to get him in bed so I could collapse.

“Mama, you want to play cards? Mama, can I have Billy over tomorrow? Mama, let’s do something.”

I thought about what I wanted to do—sleep—and I thought about what needed to be done. Something I didn’t want to do, something that was not going to benefit me in any way, yet it was the right thing to do. “You know what, Dylan? I need to run over to the Blue Pacific for a little while. You can come with me, how about that?”

“Aw, Mom, that doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“You know what, buddy? I agree with you. I don’t think it sounds like fun, either. But Jasmine really needs me there to help out. I think it’s the right thing to do.”

“Oh-kay.” He rubbed his toe along the carpet. “If I have to.”

We pulled up and I walked into the office to find my desk stacked high with invoices. I walked into the storage room and found several items still put away from the Oates family visit. I wondered why it was that they hadn’t been returned to their right place. When I walked into the living room, I saw the reason.

The walls were being repainted. I was assuming there had been crayon markings—or worse—here. I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. “What are you doing here?” Jasmine’s voice sounded more surprised than angry.

“I came in to see if you needed help getting ready. It’s pretty obvious that you do.”

“Why would you do that? After what I said to you?”

I could have told her about Gilgal, about Patti, about my father. I could have told her that this was my chance to come full circle and help her family in their time of need. Instead, I simply said, “It seemed like the right thing.”