Halfway to Forever (20 page)

Now Hannah wanted nothing more than to add to what Jenny was saying, to promise letters and pictures and phone calls. But she held her tongue, knowing that somehow Mrs. Parsons was right.

Matt cleared his throat and tightened his grip on Grace’s slim
shoulders. “In my heart, Grace, you’ll always be my little girl.” Hannah glanced at him through her tears and saw that he was silently weeping, crying as she’d never seen him cry before. He swallowed hard. “Will you remember that?”

Grace clung to Matt and nodded her head against his chest. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll remember for always.”

Matt pulled a delicate golden locket from his pocket and Hannah blinked so she could see. She had wondered when Matt was going to give Grace the present they picked out for her. “Here.” Matt opened the clasp and fitted it gently around Grace’s neck. He opened the locket and exposed a small picture of the four of them—Matt, Hannah, Jenny, and Grace. Matt cleared his throat. “This is for you. So you don’t forget.”

Grace’s eyes grew wide and she stared at the picture. “Oh, thank you Daddy. I never had a necklace of my very own.” She looked at Hannah and Jenny. “I’ll wear it every day forever and ever.”

Their thirty minutes passed in a blur, and the women returned. Mrs. Parsons cast a sad, questioning look at Hannah. “Ready?”

Ready?
Hannah almost laughed out loud. How would they ever be ready to tell Grace good-bye? To watch her walk out of their home and their hearts forever? Hannah shook her head and shrugged. “I guess.”

Mrs. Parsons explained that she would carry Grace’s bags to the car and then they’d need to leave. Grace and her grandmother had a flight to catch. Once she was gone with the suitcases, the rest of them followed and stood near the car. Matt swept Grace onto his hip and wiggled his nose against hers. “Don’t forget us, okay?”

Grace tilted her face so her eyebrows met up with Matt’s. “Okay.”

Matt handed her to Hannah then, and though she tried to be
strong, a sob sounded from her throat. “Oh, Gracie, I love you, honey. I love you.”

While she was in Hannah’s arms, Jenny snuggled her face against Grace’s and kissed her cheek. The words she whispered were for Grace’s ears alone, but Hannah heard them. “I never had a little sister before. And you’ll always be mine.”

Huge tears swam in Grace’s eyes again and she whispered in a choked voice, “Me, too.”

Finally, Patsy came forward. “Thank you.” She put her arms around the group of them. “I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done for Grace. And like I said, I’ll pray that God fills your home quickly.”

Hannah and Matt and Jenny clung to each other as Patsy took Grace and walked her to the car where Mrs. Parsons was waiting. They said one last good-bye while Grace sobbed, begging them to come. The three of them stood there, linked together long after the car had driven out of sight.

The pain was crippling, and Hannah could tell from the steady flow of tears that it was the same for Matt and Jenny. For a long while none of them spoke; then in a voice quiet and strong, despite his wet face and the depth of sadness in his eyes, Matt began to sing.

“Jesus loves me! This I know, for the Bible tells me so …”

Hannah closed her eyes and let the words wash over her. Grace’s favorite song … the one Hannah had taught her on their walks along the beach. The one Matt had hummed along with her when they cuddled at night.

Despite the vast desert of hurt in her heart, Hannah couldn’t help but feel comforted by the very real presence of God; she felt it hovering over them as they stood together there in the driveway. And before Hannah could find the strength to sing, the Lord gave her one more reason to believe they’d survive.

Jenny was singing, too.

Her voice joined Matt’s as the quiet song built among them. When they reached the part about God being strong even when children were small and weak, Hannah’s throat grew thick. It was true, and Hannah pulled in tighter to the two people she loved most in life. If it was true when times were good, when life was easy and unfettered, it was true now when the darkness seemed blacker than night. Hannah opened her mouth and somehow, despite the emotions lodged in her throat, the words began to flow, the sound of her voice mixing with the others.

Yes, Jesus loved them. He loved them and He loved Grace. If the Bible told them anything, it told them that. Hannah could feel herself growing stronger as the song continued. “Yes, Jesus loves me … Yes, Jesus loves me … Yes, Jesus loves me … the Bible tells me so.”

When they were finished singing, Matt prayed. “Lord, only You could fathom the ache in our hearts this morning, the greatness of loss over saying good-bye …” His voice cracked and again they pulled closer to each other. “Saying good-bye to Grace. But Lord, give us open hearts and open minds. Though we cannot imagine a different little girl in our lives, if there be one out there who needs us, bring her our way. Please, Lord.” He hesitated then, and Hannah knew he was trying to compose himself. “And please take good care of our little Gracie.”

It wasn’t until they were back in the house that Jenny turned to them, her eyes intent, serious. “I know what Grace’s grandmother meant, and I understand your prayer, Matt.” She looked at Hannah. “But I want you to know something. You can bring another little girl into this house and raise her. But that’s the last time I let myself fall in love with a sister.” Fresh tears fell from her eyes. “Losing one sister was hard enough. Now …” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I … I won’t do it again. Not unless God answers
my questions.”

Hannah and Matt watched her go; then they came together, embracing each other like two children who’d long since lost their way and had no idea where to turn next.

Though the song they’d sung minutes earlier still rang in Hannah’s heart, though she knew God’s promises were true and that somehow they’d survive, she couldn’t help but ask herself the same question that had to be troubling Jenny.

Why, after all they’d been through, had God let such loss happen again?

T
anner was gone. Again.

He would have a good excuse. He always did. Over the past few weeks he’d given her dozens of excuses, but the bottom line Jade knew was this: If she was dying of cancer, he didn’t want to be around to see it happen. The whole thing was too much for him; the wasting away of her energy and health and even her life was too difficult to watch. And so he had tuned out in every way that mattered.

Emotionally, spiritually, and most of all physically.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her; Jade believed that with all her heart. But it hurt all the same, there was no denying the fact. His absence had pockmarked Jade’s heart with a loneliness and sorrow she hadn’t imagined possible.

After taking the trip to Colorado, Tanner had made a brief effort to spend more time with her. But now Jade hardly ever saw him. She was lonely and afraid and she ached for him whenever she was awake. She missed him more than at any other time in her life, even the years when they’d been apart.

His absence was putting a distance between them that scared her and left her with no one to talk to, no place to vent her fears. During their few minutes together, Jade refused to share her true feelings with him. If fear was what kept him away, she was determined not to give him more reason to be gone.

Especially now, when she needed him so badly.

Because the truth, regardless of what she wanted to tell Tanner, was obvious: The medication was changing her.

She began to notice the changes two days after the second seizure, when Dr. Layton increased her dosage and assigned her Helen, a full-time home nurse.

Jade was more tired than she imagined possible, and no amount of sleep made her feel better. Though her brain might intend to spew out three quick sentences, her mouth would only respond with one. One very slow, very deliberate string of words that sounded monotone and robotic, even to Jade. About the same time walking became difficult. Every step required thought and planning, and so her pace was half her usual quick-footed gait.

Then there was her lack of balance. The medication—or the tumor itself—was affecting her equilibrium. There were times, even when she otherwise felt good, when the room seemed to slant so drastically she would fall to her knees if not for the help of someone at her side—usually Helen or Ty, since Tanner never seemed to be home until after she was in bed.

At first it was easy to pass the symptoms off as coincidence, signs that she needed more rest. But after two days of sleeping practically around the clock, Jade could no longer lie to herself.

These thoughts simmered in Jade’s mind while she lay stretched out on the sofa in their den. The den was just off the kitchen and for the past two weeks, since Helen had come to live with them, it was the place where Jade spent most of her time.

She reached for the water bottle on the end table and took a long, slow sip. Her Bible was on the floor beside her, but Jade couldn’t remember why. Had she read it? Was she intending to read it? The water slid down her throat, soothing the parched feeling that was almost constant these days.

The sun was making its way toward the western ridge of mountains behind their house, so it had to be afternoon. But was it Tuesday? Wednesday? And where was Ty? She lifted her wrist,
struggling to steady her hand in front of her. The numbers on her watch came into focus. Three-thirty. Ty would be home in ten minutes unless he had practice or a game. Jade had no idea what his schedule was. For that matter she had no idea about Tanner’s schedule, either.

Helen took care of everything now. The woman was kind and orderly, a believer in her late fifties with no family. She was conscientious about her work and took little time for small talk.

Jade wondered how the woman was with Ty. When she took him to his baseball games, did she cheer for him? Ask him how he made a tough catch?

Tears poked pins at Jade’s eyes. Before getting sick, she had never missed her son’s games.
Help him understand, God … help me get better so I can be there for him
.

The baby shifted position, and Jade’s eyes fell to her swollen abdomen.
Hold on, baby girl. You can make it. Just a few more weeks
.

The number became a giant in her mind, stomping out every other thought she’d been thinking. Three weeks? She had to exist this way, like a rotting vegetable, for three more weeks? The idea seemed as impossible as scaling Mount Everest.

Jade’s eyelids grew heavier. If there was a silver lining in the fog of medication within which she existed, it was this: She had no trouble sleeping. When she couldn’t remember what day it was or where Ty was supposed to be or whether he had a game or what time Tanner was supposed to be home, she could close her eyes and let all of life slip away.

She drew a slow, steady breath and smoothed her hand over her abdomen. The road ahead was long and dark, wrought with terrible possibilities. What if the tumor grew again before the baby was born? What if it killed her? Would the doctors find a way to save their tiny daughter or would she die, too? And what if they both survived until October 7, the date doctors had set for her C-section?
Instead of relishing the birth of her daughter, she would be faced with two weeks of intense chemotherapy and radiation. And after that there would be surgery—an operation that carried with it dire risks in the best of circumstances.

A sad, shaky sigh leaked from Jade’s throat and two tears trickled down her cheeks.
How will I survive, God? I need Tanner …

Do not be afraid
.

The words echoed in her heart, and Jade wondered if she was imagining them. It was terrifying to live with a brain that no longer responded the way she expected.
God? Can you hear me? I’m scared
.

Do not be afraid, daughter … I am with you
.

A subtle reassurance settled over Jade, and she knew the still small voice in her soul was nothing less than God’s own comfort. She closed her eyes, grateful that He still had His hand on her, still loved her and stayed by her even though she was sick.

Especially because she was sick.

Am I dying, Lord? Are You taking me away from Tanner? Away from Ty and our baby girl?

In response, Jade remembered the verse that had been on her heart constantly the summer she and Tanner found each other again. The words soothed her soul and she played them over in her mind again and again.

“I know the plans I have for you … plans to give you a hope and a future and not to harm you …”

A door slammed in the distance and Jade’s eyes opened. “Ty?”

“Hey, Mom.”

She heard him trudge inside, toss his backpack in the corner, and fling his baseball cap on the nearby chair. His footsteps grew closer, then his warm face was up against hers, kissing her cheek and stroking her hair.

“Hi.” He sat back on his heels. “You look tired.”

Jade managed a grin. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Sorry.” Ty must have caught her hint of sarcasm. “I didn’t mean it like that. You look great, really.”

She messed her fingers through his wheat-colored hair. Tanner’s hair. “That’s okay; I know what you mean. I
am
tired. Too tired lately.”

“You’re not worse, are you?” Concern flashed in Ty’s expression.

“No.” Jade reached for his hand. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything? A cookie or juice or something?”

“No, champ, that’s okay.” Jade struggled to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the sofa. “Let’s get a snack together. We can eat out on the patio.”

Helen walked past and stopped at the sight of Jade working herself up onto her feet. “I can get the chair …”

The chair
. Jade appreciated the way Helen didn’t call it a wheelchair, but that’s what it was. A wheelchair in case she wanted to get out or be pushed around the block. Dr. Layton had said she would only need it until the baby was born. Between now and then, too much walking could stimulate tumor growth and more seizures.

“No, thanks.” Jade smiled at the older woman. “I’m not going far.” She held her elbow out toward Ty, and he took it in a way he’d long since perfected.