INFECtIOUS (24 page)

I
am believing
Him to heal her. We've seen lots of prayers for
healing answered over the last few years. God is doing great things all the
time. About a year ago a little girl fell from a second story window. She broke
her back in the fall and would have died. Rev.
Depold
prayed over her and she was completely healed right then and there. God hears
our prayers here. Aunty will get better. I should see if the Elders can come
pray over her today.

First
breakfast.
Then I'll send for the elders.

Jail Break

I cook a huge
breakfast. French toast made from homemade potato bread, baked apples, and
scrambled duck eggs. I set the table for Ben too, hoping today he'll join us.
I'd like him to come down and carry the conversation with his fellow
missionary. I don't want to eat alone with the Mountain Man and the mute girl.

I knock on both
doors, Ben's and Jack's, and call out "Breakfast is ready."

Within minutes
they are both downstairs. The minute they see each other they embrace for
an
long hug with a lot of back slapping. Both look happy to
see each other but heavy and sad at the same time. I know it's the other
missionaries they are thinking of. Only two out of thirty have made it home.
Will more come today? I hope so.

They visit and
eat and eat and eat. I'm worried that the huge breakfast I made might not be
enough. When the serving plates are almost empty, I offer to cook more but they
both turn me down, insisting it was the perfect amount and they couldn't hold
another bite.

Little Rosa sits
up on her knees in her chair and eats with her hands. She is like a little wild
animal. I would guess her to be maybe three years old? She doesn't speak at
all, but I watch her closely. When her eyes fall hungrily on one of the serving
dishes, I stand and serve her some. I smile at her a lot and cut her food into
small bites to make it easier for her. She is making a huge mess. But the site
of her eating is so tragic that I hardly think about the stained tablecloth or
the food all over the chair and floor. I feel blessed to have what we have and
I'm happy to be feeding this pretty little wild thing.

I think she is
either Indian or Hispanic. I wonder if Rosa is her real name or if Jack named
her that? Under her long black eyelashes, dark intelligent eyes dart around the
room taking everything in. When she is finally full and bored of the table and
the food, she hops down and starts wandering around the big
dinning
room, exploring.

I leave the men
to talk and decide to give Rosa a bath now, while Jack is out of the room. I
can clean up breakfast later. Aunty wouldn't let the mess sit out like that,
but I'm in charge today and I think it won't hurt to clean up this sweet little
mess first. I hold out my hand to her and she looks hesitantly at me, then
smiles and comes to me.

When her little
hand finds mine, something happens in my heart. I don't know how to explain it.
It's like a bomb has gone off in me. I suddenly feel certain that I'm meant to
love this little girl. Her smile fills my heart as she peers up at me from
underneath those beautiful fluttering lashes. I have never really cared much
for other people's children. I have no longing to have a child of my own. Why
long for something that is most likely impossible? But this little girl is
meant for me. I stand stalled at the foot of the steps just smiling at her.
Does she feel it too?
This strange connection?
With no
indication that she has shared in my epiphany, she starts up the stairs bobbing
her head back and forth, her messy black curls swaying.

Partway up the
stairs I hear Aunty talking downstairs. I pick Rosa up and hurry back down.
Aunty is in her old bathrobe, her hair a disheveled mess, talking to the
missionaries in the dining room. I'm a little embarrassed of her appearance and
not used to her being so—old. I hurry over to her and ask her to come help me
with something in the kitchen. She shuffles slowly behind me to the kitchen and
sits down gingerly at the kitchen table.

"I thought
you were going to come get me," she says slightly annoyed.

"I did
come
Aunty. I couldn't wake you." I pause, unsure of
what to say next.

Questions like,
"what's wrong with you" and "why is this happening" are
popcorning
in my head. She doesn't offer any explanation.

"I figured
you needed the rest. Are you feeling better?" I ask hopeful. Maybe God has
already healed her!

"I'm sorry
Ivy. I—I had hoped never to have this talk with you."

I sit down
across from her and hand Rosa a pencil and paper to color on.

"Whatever
it is Aunty,
it''s
going to be ok. I prayed over you
and
I'm believing
in faith that God will heal you. Do
you feel any better yet?"

She smiles
softly at me and clears her throat. "Ivy, I have cancer. I've had it for
quite some time now. I'm so sorry dear, but I'm dying."

She's
apologizing to me for being sick. This is why God will heal her. She is such an
amazing, godly woman. The world needs her. I desperately need her.

"How do you
know?" I ask, my eyes filling with tears despite my pronouncement of faith
for her healing.
Hearing the word "cancer" plants a
seed of doubt in my recently replanted garden of faith.
Last week it
would've put me over the edge. My garden was a desert last week.

"Hale
diagnosed me several months ago. It is most certainly cancer. I have a large
lump in my breast and we are fairly certain it has spread to my bones and
organs. I have very little time left."

"You can't
know that for sure!" I insist. Rosa is squirming so I stand up and dig out
a few crayons from a drawer. I show her their colors on the paper and her
eye's
light up and she resumes her coloring.

"I know
Ivy. I've known for a while and I have peace. I've already been anointed and
prayed over by the Elders.
Twice actually.
The Lord
has given His answer. I'm not to be healed of this."

I'm crushed to
hear this. They've already tried and it didn't work? Maybe my prayer will be
different. I cling to that hope. "He will heal you still Aunty. I'm
positive. Maybe He wants to heal you from my prayer? Wants us to see how great
He is and that He is still there.
Still listening."

I must believe.
If I listen to her and let doubt into my heart then my prayer won't
work.
I refuse to hear it. I won't be sad. I
am
believing
!
 

She smiles
knowingly at me, as though she knows what I'm thinking and says, "Just
promise me you won't walk away Ivy.
No matter what His
answer.
I need you to promise me you'll always love Him."

She is suddenly
too choked up to continue and tears spill over and run down the new wrinkle
lines that have recently changed her face. I set Rosa in the chair and hurry
over to her, grasping her thin frail hands. They feel too cold.

"Of course
I'll never walk away Aunty! But you don't have to worry. You'll be here to
lecture me right into the Pearly Gates, ok? Let's just get you back in bed. You
just need some more rest. Should I get Dr. Markowitz? Isn't there anything he
can do to make
you
 
feel
better?"

"No,"
she sniffles, "but I guess I will
lay
back down.
I'm hurting a lot lately."

"Let me get
you something for the pain, some Tylenol?"

"No, Thomas
needs it. I'm fine. It isn't that bad," she lies bravely, with a forced
smile.

"Are you
hungry? Can I feed you?"

"No dear,
I'm afraid I haven't been hungry in quite awhile. It's what the body does when it's
sick. I should feel starved, but I just feel—tired."

Rosa comes over
to stand next to us and Aunty seems to notice her for the first time.

"Who is
this child?" she asks. "You've been holding her and caring for her
like she's always been yours. Do we know her?" she asks pitifully,
suddenly afraid that she's starting to forget things.
Afraid
that her memory is failing her along with her mutinous body.

"Her name
is Rosa." I say smiling at her as she does playful little hops across the
square tiles of the old kitchen floor. She looks up when she hears her name and
smiles back at me. "I want to ask the Elder's if we can keep her."

Aunty just
frowns. I hope she'll feel better about it when she regains her strength. Even
if God doesn't take the cancer away, he could give us more time together. Just
one more year, that's all we need. She has lived with the cancer this long, why
not just a little longer? Please God?

"Let me
walk you back to your room. I'm going to make you some soup and you are going
to eat lunch in a little while and feel better."

After tucking
Aunty back in and making a mental note to change her sheets and freshen up her
room next time she's up, I head towards the tub with Rosa. Jack and Ben are
still talking at the table. It seems that Jack has not conjured up any paternal
instinct at all because I've had Rosa for at least half an hour now and he
doesn't seem to have noticed. I run her a bubbly bath in the big tub and help
her strip off her clothes. I sit back on my heels, robbed of breath, at what I
find underneath the dirty garments.

Scars.

More than I can
count.

Some of them are
old but some of them are still healing. I can't tell what made the offending
marks, but they are all over her tiny body. I ache at the thought of what her
short life has been like. What she has gone through. The fact that she took my
hand, that she can smile at all, is a miracle. I desperately want to make her
feel loved and safe. I pet her and sing to her and teach her how to splash
around in the tub. She's hesitant at first but then takes to the water
joyfully, swimming and kicking and splashing me back. She's having fun. I can't
help but wonder if it might be the first time she's ever had fun. I wonder if
she's ever had a warm bath before.

"Do you like
the water?" I ask her.

She smiles at
me.

"Can you
tell me how old you are?" I ask. "How old are you?" I hold up
three fingers, then four, then five.

She just smiles
at me. I wonder if she even understands English.

After half an
hour of splashing in the tub I get her out and wrap her in a big towel. I sit
on the bed in her room and rock her in my arms, singing a mix of little kid
songs I learned as a child and some of my favorite hymns from church. She falls
asleep wrapped in the towel in my arms. I don't want to put her down, but I
need to find her some clothes and I still need to clean up from breakfast. So I
gently lay her in the bed and cover her up.

I feel exhausted
as I head back downstairs. I've already done so much today and going up and down
these stairs so many times isn't helping. I'm overwhelmed and trying to hold on
to my faith.
Afraid that if I allow a moment's doubt He might
not answer my most desperate prayer.
I can't do this by myself. Who
would run the Inn?
Could I realistically care for little Rosa
without Aunty?
And why is this happening now, when everything else in
life is already so hard?

Pravda wants me
for some unknown reason. I found something in Matt I never knew I wanted
,
only to have him taken away from me—twice. If Aunty leaves
me, I'll be alone. They won't let me keep Rosa, I won't be able to run the Inn,
they'll put me with some family in town and no one in town even likes me right
now. I keep thinking of that girl who killed herself. I don't want to be her
and I'm sacred that my life is barreling in that direction. My legs feel weak
underneath me and I consider crumpling down on the stairs and crying.

I sit down on
the bottom step and lift my hands up to The Lord. He says to praise Him in the
dark times and He'll be the Light. I spend a precious minute telling him
everything He already knows—and I do end up crying. But it's not a "poor
me" cry of desperation, just an overflow of too many emotions being held
in check too long. I ask for a lot.
Aunty's
restoration, Matt's safety and a chance to see him again, Rosa's short but
important future, and strength. I ask for lots and lots of strength. When I
stand back up, I feel Him there and I know He has a plan. A plan I want. My own
plans are shortsighted. His will get me where I need to go.
  

Jack and Ben are
still at the table, so I decide to conquer the problem of clothing Rosa before
the breakfast clean up. I can't help but smirk thinking Aunty would be appalled
at how long I've let that mess sit there. I pull on my coat and, without even
thinking, I hurry out the door to the U.R.