Blessings (26 page)

Another lengthy silence followed while Mama and Dad poked at their nearly empty plates and refused to answer.

Trina bounced her gaze back and forth between her parents, taking in their firm, unmoving faces. A fierce fear struck, and she dropped her fork with a clatter. “What are you trying to keep from me? Why don’t you want me to see Graham?”

“That isn’t it at all, Trina,” Dad blustered. “Of course we want you to be able to see Graham, but—”

Mama interrupted. “We’ve told you everything we know about Graham.”

“Tell me again.” Surely she’d missed something. There had to be some reason her parents wouldn’t take her—some tidbit of information that would explain everything.

Dad lifted his face to the ceiling for a moment, as if gathering strength, then faced Trina. “Graham’s spine was fractured. When he’s stabilized and they are certain he has no internal bleeding, they plan to operate. Until then, they are keeping him in a drug-induced coma so he doesn’t move around and cause further injury to the spine. That’s all we know, Trina.”

“If he’s not awake, he won’t know you aren’t there,” Mama added, putting her hand over Trina’s.

Trina jerked her hand free. “But
I’ll
know! And I need to see him. For myself—I need to see for myself that he is alive. Why won’t you let me see him?”

Tony, normally silent during family discussions, cleared his throat. “I think you should let her go. She’s really worrying about him. It would do her good.”

Much to Trina’s surprise, neither parent reprimanded Tony for interfering. For long moments Mama and Dad looked at each other, and Trina sensed they were silently communicating with each other. Hoping they were deciding to let her go to Wichita, she remained quiet, too, her breath coming in little spurts while she waited for them to reach the conclusion.

Finally, Dad put both hands flat on the tabletop and faced Trina. “Daughter, we didn’t want to tell you this because we feared it would hurt you. But you don’t leave us much choice.” His voice sounded low, gruff, heavy with pain.

Trina’s heart turned a somersault in her chest. “W–what is it?”

Dad pinched his lips together, his forehead creasing into a knot. “When Graham’s mother called the first time—when they’d just gotten Graham settled in the room at Wichita—she had a message for you from Graham.”

“Well?” Trina thought she might explode from impatience. “What? What did he say?”

Her father’s head lowered, giving her a view of his thinning scalp. His shoulders heaved in a sigh. Then, his face still aimed downward, he said, “She said that Graham said to tell you not to come.”

T
WENTY-SIX

W
ednesday morning after breakfast, Dad and Tony headed to their jobs as usual, and Mama walked to the café. She had chosen to keep it closed Tuesday and spend the day with Trina, but she said people needed a return to normalcy, so she’d better go back. However, right before leaving, she instructed Trina to take it easy. Trina couldn’t remember her mother ever leaving her alone without a list of chores to occupy her time. At first, it seemed like freedom. But in short order, restlessness struck. Sitting and doing nothing made the time crawl by.

Her schoolbooks sat on the table in her room, yet she couldn’t open them. Her focus was too far away—one hundred and ten miles away, to be exact. She knew whatever assignments on which she tried to work would only be done poorly.
Why would Graham ask me to stay away?
The question plagued her constantly, but she could find no answer.

She tried reading her Bible and praying, seeking peace, but even talking to God turned into a frustrating question session without answers. So with nothing else to do, she paced the living room, pausing at the window at each turn to stare out at the late October morning. It almost surprised her to see the multicolored leaves on the trees. Fall had sneaked up on her this year.

Staring unseeingly across the yard, she thought about the hours she’d spent in her bedroom or at Beth’s computer, working on her college classes. Even though she knew it was God’s call on her heart and something Graham encouraged, she now discovered a small prick of resentment. She’d missed watching summer give way to fall. She’d missed hours and hours of time with Graham. Those lost hours multiplied in value when faced with the prospect of not having time with him again.

She thumped the window casing with her fist. “I’ve got to think about something else!” Stewing over the strange message wouldn’t change it. She’d not be able to make sense of it until she talked to Graham, and she might not be able to talk to Graham for several more days. According to his mother, the doctors would keep him in the drug-induced sleep until the swelling completely subsided. Then they would try to repair the damaged vertebrae.

How she wished the doctors could say for sure what the end result would be after the surgery. Whether Graham would have full use of his legs. If he couldn’t, it would change everything.

But what would it matter if he no longer wanted her around?

Turning from the window, she flumped onto the sofa and ran her fingers over the elastic bandage that held the splint on her left wrist. Typing would be even more of a challenge now that she was one-handed. How would she keep up with her classes? Or should she even continue her classes?

“Oh, dear heavenly Father,” Trina groaned, rubbing her hand down her cheek and discovering tears, “what am I supposed to do now? I’m so confused. Why does it seem there’s always something in the way of my becoming a doctor for animals?”

Just as she finished the thought, a knock at the door sounded. She quickly wiped away the remainder of tears and opened the door. Andrew stood on the porch, a serious look on his face.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Trina stepped back as he moved through the opening then closed the door behind him. “Aren’t you working today?”

“Beth is sending me on an errand.”

Trina sat back on the sofa, peering up at her cousin. Andrew had been very honest in his feelings about her pursuing veterinary science. Even though he had stopped openly discouraging her, his silence on the subject had spoken loudly about his continued disapproval. They hadn’t had time alone for several weeks, and to Trina’s regret, she realized she felt uncomfortable in his presence. The discomfort held her tongue.

“I’m taking a couple of stained-glass projects for consignment to the Fox Gallery in Wichita. The drive gets long all by myself, so I thought I’d see if you might want to go to give me some company.”

Trina’s heart skipped a beat.
Wichita.
Then maybe she could go by the hospital and see Graham. Immediately the anticipation plunged. Graham had said not to come. She sighed. “Mama and Dad probably won’t let me.”

Andrew worked the toe of his boot against the carpet, his brow furrowed. “I stopped by the café before coming over here. Aunt Deborah said it was okay.”

Trina’s jaw dropped. “Really?” But then, Mama had given permission to go to the gallery, not the hospital.

“And while I’m in town, I plan to go by St. Francis and take some cards and food to the Ortmanns. I figured you’d probably like to check on them, too.”

Trina bounced to her feet, cringing as pain caught her ribs. “Did you tell Mama all of this?”

“I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise. I don’t want to sneak behind her back.”

Recognizing the hidden message, Trina nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to. That’s why I wanted to make sure.”

A slight smile finally tipped up the corners of Andrew’s mouth. “So do you want to go or not?”

“I want to go!” She started for the bedroom then turned back. Tipping her head, she sent him a curious look. “How did you convince her? She and Dad told me I couldn’t go.”

Andrew raised his shoulders in a slow shrug. “I just told her being kept away from Graham when he needs you most isn’t fair to you or to Graham.”

Trina stared, amazed that Mama had listened. “Thank you.”

Andrew nodded then pointed at her feet. “Go put your shoes on, and we can go.”

Trina scampered for her bedroom.

Trina greeted Graham’s mother with a hug that turned lengthy. The older woman clung, pressing her cheek to Trina’s.

“Oh, Trina, it’s good to see you. I’ve been so worried about you.” Mrs. Ortmann pulled back and grasped Trina’s shoulders. “How are you? Are you recovered from the accident?”

“I’m all right. Just bruises, that’s all.”

“Good. I’m so grateful.” She gave Trina another gentle hug before guiding her to a vinyl settee. It squeaked with their weight when they sat down. The waiting room was small, with windows that looked out on a courtyard. Crumpled candy wrappers, empty soda bottles, and fast-food cartons gave mute evidence of a long stay.

“Are you comfortable here?” Trina wiggled on the stiff cushion. “Is there anything else you need?”

“The hospital staff has been wonderful,” Mrs. Ortmann said. “They bring us blankets and pillows each night, and of course we have visitors from Sommerfeld who bring us food. We’re doing okay.”

Trina gestured toward Andrew, who stood in the crack of space between the window and a small table. “Andrew brought a box of snack things—crackers, fruit, candy, and granola bars.”

“That’s kind of you,” the older woman said, flashing a tired smile in Andrew’s direction. “Ed and Chuck went down to the cafeteria to get some lunch a few minutes ago, but we try to stay here in the room as much as possible. Just in case someone comes with news. We aren’t allowed much time with Graham—not while he remains in the intensive care unit.”

Trina took Mrs. Ortmann’s hands. “What is the latest news? Mama said they’re still keeping him in a coma.”

“That’s right.” The woman’s chin quivered. “He looks so pale and weak, but I suppose that’s to be expected. The not knowing is the hardest part. Until they do the surgery, we won’t know for sure the severity of the injury. It could be that they’ll be able to fix his spine and everything will be all right. It could be that there was spinal cord damage, and he won’t be all right. It’s nearly driven me mad, wondering.”

Trina swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”

Mrs. Ortmann pressed her lips together tightly and lifted her chin. “Well, if they follow through as planned, they’ll do surgery tomorrow. Then we should know what we’re facing. That will help.”

Trina nodded, her head down. Several minutes ticked by before Mrs. Ortmann drew in a deep breath and tugged Trina’s hands.

“So have you been doing what Graham said?”

Trina jerked her gaze up, her brow crunching. What a funny question. Obviously she’d stayed away. Trina didn’t know how to answer.

Mrs. Ortmann’s expression turned puzzled. “Your father did give you the message, didn’t he?”

A band of hurt wrapped around Trina’s chest. “Yes. He told me.”

“Good.” A smile quavered on the woman’s face. “Graham was so worried you’d fall behind because of him.”

That statement made no sense. Trina shook her head, her ribbons grazing the underside of her jaw. “Mrs. Ortmann, I’m sorry, but—”

She squeezed Trina’s hands hard. “You were the last thing he thought about before they put him under.” Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re studying. Graham will feel so bad if this accident has kept you from doing your work.”

Trina’s heart thudded hard in her chest. Studying? Dad hadn’t mentioned studying—only staying away. “Mrs. Ortmann, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father told me Graham said I shouldn’t come here.”

The woman’s eyes flew wide. “Well, he did—but somehow you only got part of the message.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my! I hope. . .” Capturing Trina’s hand again, she leaned close, her face pursing into a look of worry. “I was so upset that night, Trina—there were people coming and going, so much activity, so much concern. I may have mixed up my words and left your father with the idea that Graham didn’t want you here.

“It is true that’s what he wanted, but not because he didn’t want to see you.” She shook her head. “He only wanted you to keep studying—not to let the accident interfere with your work. Do you understand?”

Trina understood. And she’d let Graham down by not picking up her books this week. She would make it up, though. Then she looked at her bandaged wrist and groaned. She held up the injured hand. “I want to study, Mrs. Ortmann, but I don’t know how I’ll submit my assignments. I can barely type with two
good
hands. I don’t know how I’ll do it with one.”

“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Ortmann offered a brief, sympathetic hug. “Can you contact your teachers? Let them know you’ve been hurt and ask if they’ll let you turn things in late? Or maybe you could talk into one of those machines. . .what are they called?”

Andrew inserted, “A tape recorder?”

“Yes!” The older woman turned to Trina, eagerness lighting her eyes. “You could
say
your assignments and send them in.”

“I don’t know.” Trina had never operated a tape recorder. But then, until she’d started college, she’d never used a computer, either. Yet she’d managed to master it well enough to keep up. “I—I guess I could try, though.”

“Of course you can!” Mrs. Ortmann beamed. “And as soon as Graham comes out of surgery, I’ll let him know how you’re doing and that you aren’t falling behind. If he knows you’re moving forward just like you two planned, it will give his heart a lift. It will give him a reason—” Her chin crumpled, tears spurting into her eyes. “A reason to try to get well.”

“I’ll do my best,” Trina promised.

The door to the little room opened. Mr. Ortmann and Chuck came in, carrying a tray of food.

Trina rose, looking at Andrew. “We should get out of the way so you can eat.” She gave Mrs. Ortmann another hug, shook Mr. Ortmann’s hand, and tweaked Chuck’s ear. After their good-byes, she and Andrew headed back to the lobby.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see Graham,” Andrew said.

“Me, too.” Trina’s heart felt heavy with desire to see him, talk to him, touch him, and assure herself he was alive. “But maybe Mama and Dad will let me come back after he’s had his surgery and he’s no longer in the coma.”

“I’ll bring you if they can’t,” Andrew offered.

Trina held his elbow as they crossed the parking lot. “Thank you. But won’t Beth need you at the gallery?”

“Beth knows I’ll make up the hours.” Andrew opened the car door for her. “Besides, Graham is practically family. She’ll understand.”

When Andrew started the car and headed into traffic, Trina said, “What do you think of Mrs. Ortmann’s suggestion about doing my assignments on a tape recorder?”

“I think it’s better than not doing them.” Andrew glanced at her. “What would be easier—typing with one hand or speaking into a tape recorder?”