God In The Kitchen (21 page)

            As for the money from the station, the promotions director deposited it into the station bank account on Monday as promised. We had one of those big checks made so that we could present it to the hospital and get some further publicity for the station. Not only did we get that on a local level, but we got coverage from Good Morning America, the Today Show, and several of the evening news shows.

            The entire event had played out just as I hoped, and even better. Not only had Ian gotten the money he needed for the surgery he had to have, but the station had gotten lots of good publicity for acting the part of Good Samaritan. I was already seeing applications for the next year’s event. We would do something other than a lemonade stand for a different cause, but with any luck, it would help the chosen family just as much.

            The rest of the money was transferred from the station account directly into Chloe’s account. I wanted to remind her that she didn’t really need to work so hard during the week between the event and Ian’s surgery, but she didn’t seem to hear me. I remembered how determined she had been to pay me back for the car repairs and I wondered if she was equally determined to pay her own son’s way in the world after he was made whole by the surgeons once again.

            I occasionally thought about bringing up the blonde man I had seen at Chloe’s door and had thought I had also seen at the lemonade stand, but it seemed a small, futile point when Ian’s life was on the line. Chloe put herself second behind anything Ian needed and I decided to take a page from her book and do the same with myself.

            My relationship with Chloe and where it stood could wait. Until the surgery was successfully completed and Ian was home and in good health again, I would deal with my relationship with Chloe as it was.

            The relationship was comfortable and seemed to have been going on much longer than just a few weeks. Chloe talked out loud when I was around, bouncing things off of me and using me as a sounding board. I wasn’t sure if it was because she simply needed someone and I was there or if it was because she needed me, specifically.

            We would hold hands on occasion and she would rest her head on my shoulder when we sat on the couch. She would even kiss my cheek before I left, but that was about as far as things went. Ian was always around and we had silently agreed he didn’t need to excite himself with the possibility that the “music man” was around for good until after the surgery.

            It was another way of Chloe’s to protect him. It was obvious how much they meant to me. After all, I had put my own job and reputation on the line to raise money for them. But there WAS still another man in the picture and we both knew that he needed to be dealt with before we could move any further into our relationship, what it was, what it meant, and where it was going.

            Whenever I got to spend time with Ian, I was completely and utterly okay with that. Sometimes I even though that I would be okay with that forever if it would keep me close to the little guy.

            He was simply amazing. He would get short bursts of energy and bat a balloon around the room as if it were the best thing he had ever seen in his life. When the balloon popped, I expected him to cry. Instead, he simply shrugged, got out his train, and resumed his play in a different manner.

            I had a little experience with kids through my brother’s children, but I had never felt closer to one than I did to Ian. It was like he was an old soul in a small body. He still spoke like a child and played like a child, but some of the things he said were so profound.

            “Are you a daddy?” Ian asked one afternoon when I was visiting and Chloe had stepped out of the room to grab another item to pack.

            I shook my head. “Not yet, but maybe I will be someday.”

            “You must have had a good daddy,” Ian said, talking in the past tense as if he knew my father had passed.

            “I did,” I said, nodding my head. “The best.”

            “I can tell,” Ian said, glancing up from his game to meet my eyes for a split second. “You would be too. I can tell that by the way you make train noises.”

            The serious moment led to a laugh that I was hardly able to control and when Chloe returned, she wanted to know what was so funny. I couldn’t explain it without ruining the moment so I just said, “Ian. He’s just a funny little kid.”

            Chloe agreed. She was around him more than anyone else. She knew the extent to his humor and comments.

            The day of the surgery came all too quickly, though I was sure it could not come quickly enough for Chloe. As nervous as she was about the procedure, she knew it was the only way she could save her son. She had met with the surgeon and had the whole thing explained to her and she felt good about his competence. Good enough to hand her precious son over to his care.

            She had several talks with Ian about the situation and he seemed to understand that after he had his time with the doctors, he would be more tired for a while, but once he got better, he would only have to sleep at night and he would have more energy to play. It was all he had ever wanted and because of that, he was excited for the big day.

            When I picked the two of them up in the morning, I could see a slight shake in Chloe’s hand, but Ian was a ball of energy and excitement.

            “Did you know they have ice cream in the hospital and I get to eat as much as I want?” he said as he threw himself against my leg the minute I came through the door.

            “Is that so?”

            “Mommy says so,” he said, pointing his thin finger in her direction in anticipation.

            “That’s right,” Chloe said. “I told him he’d get to eat lots of soft things like ice cream and Jell-O and pudding. You’d think he was getting his tonsils out or something.” The tight smile on her face told me plenty. She was a mom and she was nervous for the surgery. She was as nervous as Ian was excited.

            The conversation on the way to the hospital had consisted of Ian talking about his favorite flavors of ice cream. Once he had exhausted that topic, he moved on to various shapes that Jell-O could be made into and how to do it. I had never seen him so animated and I looked forward to a day after the surgery when he would have this kind of energy all of the time.

            Chloe, on the other hand, had never looked so pale and frail to me. She answered Ian on occasion, but mostly she stayed quiet, her hands folded tightly together in her lap.

            “Are you okay?” I whispered so as not to interrupt Ian.

            Chloe smiled briefly, glancing at me and trying to relax her hands. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

            I reached over and grabbed one of her hands. “He’ll do great.”

            Chloe had wanted to drive her own car but not only had I wanted to be there for her, but I was still nervous about letting her drive that contraption. Sure, I had fixed everything that had been wrong with it, but it was still very old and it was not the most reliable vehicle on the earth. Today, on the most important day in Ian’s life, they needed to be on time and they needed for nothing to go wrong. I wanted to be there to make sure things went as smoothly as possible up until Ian was turned over and there was nothing more I could do.

            Things seemed to move very slowly at the hospital and I was relegated to the waiting room on several occasions. Family was allowed to be with Ian during the preparations, but I was only the mother’s maybe boyfriend and that meant I had to sit on the sidelines and wait while Ian settled in, was prepped, and the paperwork was filed.

            I entertained myself well enough while I waited. There was a small TV in the waiting room and I even saw his initial interview from the lemonade stand play on Good Morning America. They were airing a recap from that day in addition to the story they did when we handed over the check. When Ian said the lemonade was good, I smiled. When Chloe said her thank you’s to the crowd, I felt myself well up with tears.

            This little family had become the center of my life and I wasn’t sure what I would do myself if anything happened to Ian. It wasn’t my job to protect him, but I had still done everything I could to make sure he got what he needed. How would I handle Chloe if anything were to go wrong?

            I wiped the tear from the corner of my eye. I couldn’t think like that. Ian was going to be fine.

            After several hours, Chloe joined me in the waiting room with a drawn look on her face. She sat down in the plastic chair beside me, looped her arm through mine, and silently placed her head on my shoulder. We sat that way until I could no longer feel my arm, but it must have been several hours.

            People came and went through the waiting room, cups of bad coffee in their hands, sandwiches on their laps. Sometimes they would talk or read a magazine or make a phone call. With Chloe, there was nothing to say.

            When the surgical nurse appeared in the doorway, her scrub hat in her hands, all eyes were on her. Chloe was the only one in the room that stood, however, and the nurse moved purposefully toward her. They must have recognized each other from the proceedings prior to the surgery.

            I stayed stationed in my chair since I was not sure if I was welcome in the conversation or not. After all, I wasn’t technically family and did not have any right to the information.

            I watched as the nurse placed her hand on Chloe’s shoulder and Chloe dropped her face into her hands. Her shoulder shook and the nurse gave her a pat and left the room just as quickly as she had come.

            I felt the other people in the room relax around me. The news had not been for them so they went back to their bad coffee, magazines, and sandwiches. I stood and moved toward Chloe, unsure if I wanted to hear what she had to say or not.

            When I reached her, she was able to move her hands, but the tears streaming down her face had not stopped.

            “He’s okay,” she whispered as she threw herself against my shoulder. “Everything went well and he’ll be out of recovery in an hour. Jared,” she said, pausing just long enough to tilt her head up to face me, “Ian’s going to be okay.”

            I smiled and hugged her tightly against me. It was the only logical outcome of the whole story. It wouldn’t have been fair for the little boy and his mom to go through so much only to have a complication arise. It was almost like a fairytale. Ian would recover. Chloe and I would figure out our relationship. With any luck, we would live happily ever after. A small, but mighty little family.

            Ian was a real trooper throughout his recovery. It was a few days before I could even see him, but I came by, brought him a stuffed bear from the gift shop, and visited with Chloe in the waiting room. The day I finally got to go into the room myself was one I had been looking forward to.

            Ian looked like he had more color in his cheeks than I was used to seeing and had it not been for the wires and IVs, I would have thought he was a healthy little boy. I was amazed at the difference.

            His energy level was still low, but being a typical little boy, he was itching to get out of bed. I had not thought to bring anything with me that day, so I taught him how to make paper airplanes and we shot them across the room as his mother frowned. Luckily, she wasn’t really upset, but someone had to play the bad cop.

            Before I left that day, Chloe snapped a picture of Ian and I, smiling like fools with an airplane thrust between us. It was the first picture I would have with the little boy who perhaps someday I would be able to call my own.

            I was able to make it over to the hospital every day, though my work commitments felt like they were pressing in on all sides. Chloe said Ian was glued to the radio each morning, though she wouldn’t let him get up for the day and turn it on till after 8, when much of my show was already over.