New Beginnings (13 page)

“Did the hospital run out of food and heat?” Gideon asked.

“No, not yet. I’m on my way home. I’ll pick up the gear in a few minutes.”

“Where are you going? It’s really a mess out there.”

“I’ve got an errand to run in Springfield.”

“You’re kidding,” Gideon said. “You’re going to Springfield in this blizzard?”

In the background, James heard Fern’s voice.

“Mom wants to know what’s going on.”

Wincing, James said, “I’ll explain when I get there.” Fern wasn’t going to be too happy, but James knew his wife would understand. He hoped.

He’d barely hung up when his cell rang. Thinking it might be Fern calling to tell him to forget going anywhere, he glanced at the number: Dr. Drew.

“Yes, doctor?” he answered.

“I just got off the phone with the Deerford Street Department. It took a little persuasion, but they’ve agreed to divert one of the plows to the interstate even though that’s not their responsibility. They’ll plow lanes as far as Tiskilwa and back.”

“Great. That’s a beginning.” Eight out of the one hundred thirty miles he had to travel. Each way. He shifted into gear and eased out of the parking lot.

“The state police aren’t thrilled with you getting on the interstate. The local office bounced the decision up the chain of command. Somebody is supposed to get back to me.”

“Keep after them, Dr. Drew. I don’t want to be arrested and hauled off to jail.”

“I’ll do my best.”

So would James. That’s all you could ask of any man.

Blowing snow made visibility almost nil. If James hadn’t known where he was going, he wasn’t sure he’d make it. As it was, he only caught a glimpse now and then of a street sign or a blinking stoplight.

By the time he reached home, he could already feel the tension in his shoulders and the strain of peering through a nearly impenetrable curtain of snow.
Please, Lord, I could sure use a little help
.

Fern met him inside the back door. “Whose truck is that? What’s happening? Are you really going to Springfield?”

He gave a quick kiss and ushered her into the kitchen where the boys were filling thermos bottles with coffee and soup. His heavy-duty sleeping bag was on the floor by the door. He quickly related the urgent need for the donor liver and how it would save a patient’s life.

Nelson’s eyes widened. “That is so cool, Dad. Wish I could see the surgery when you get back.”

Fern, who was using her cane, hugged his arm. “In this weather, it’s dangerous for anyone to be out. Are you sure—”

“It’s the patient’s only chance,” he explained.

She nodded, though her eyes were dark with worry. “Be as careful as you can.”

“I will,” he promised.

“You better take some bottled water,” Gideon suggested. “You can get dehydrated in the cold just like you can in a hot desert. Better have some extra batteries for your flashlight.” He dug through the drawer next to the sink and came up with some fresh batteries. “Keep them in an inside pocket so they won’t freeze. How about your cell-phone charger?”

James took the batteries, dropping them in his pocket. “I can plug my cell into the truck.”

At the sink, Nelson tightened the lid on the second thermos. “These are all set to go. Mom’s got the trail mix in the plastic container. She had me get you a change of clothes in case what you’re wearing gets wet. They’re rolled inside your sleeping bag.”

“Good idea. Thanks, all of you.” His throat tightened as he looked at his family. They were fully as brave as any soldiers he’d known, doing what had to be done while holding their own fears at bay. “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone.”

“I doubt that.” Fern touched his cheek. “We’ll pray for your safety.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and kissed her one last time. “I love you guys.”

His arms loaded with the thermos bottles and trail mix, he opened the door. Gideon grabbed the sleeping bag plus an armload of water bottles and followed him out.

Within minutes, he was on the road heading for the interstate.

Elena kept her eye on the monitor watching for any sign of Mrs. Witten’s situation deteriorating. Her jaundice appeared to be getting worse. Dr. Drew had dropped by earlier to talk with the family. Tammy Witten had returned to the waiting room in tears.

The entire hospital staff, however few there were at the moment, knew about James’s desperate attempt to retrieve the donor liver from Springfield.

More than one staff member had stopped by the chapel to say a prayer for him and Mrs. Witten. Elena hoped to get away from ICU for a few minutes to do the same.

“Any word on James?”

At the sound of Candace’s voice, Elena glanced at her watch. “It’s only been an hour since he left the hospital.”

“I know. I thought maybe…” Her voice trailed off and she shrugged.

“How’s the Birthing Unit doing?” Elena asked.

“We haven’t had any new admissions in the past twelve hours. But the babies who are already here are getting older by the minute. If this storm doesn’t stop soon to let our new moms and dads take their bundles of joy home, Hope Haven is going to be opening a kindergarten on the premises for the little ones.”

Laughing, Elena turned back to the monitor just as Trisha Witten’s heart started throwing a run of PVCs, premature ventricular contractions that fluttered the solid rise and fall of the line on her monitor.

Adrenaline surged through Elena. Instinct took over. She hustled from the nurses’ station into Mrs. Witten’s room. She checked the leads to the monitor that were attached to the patient’s chest. Sometimes they came loose, causing a false alarm.

But not this time.

She turned to Candace, who stood by the doorway. “Get on the intercom. Call Dr. Drew to ICU, stat!”

As Elena checked the meds dripping into the patient’s veins, she heard Candace’s voice loud and clear paging Dr. Drew over the intercom. The line on the heart monitor continued to flutter like little wavelets racing toward a far shore.

“Don’t go there, Trisha. Stay here with us,” Elena pleaded. “You’ve got your daughter’s wedding to attend.”

Candace shoved the crash cart next to the patient’s bed and prepared the defibrillator paddles to shock the patient’s heart back into normal rhythm. “She needs epinephrine.”

“Come on, Trisha,” Elena mumbled, filling a syringe with epi. “Give James a chance to get your new liver and get back here with it.”

A moment later Anabelle showed up. “I’m here if you need me.” In a situation where the hospital was so short staffed, everyone who could responded to a stat call.

Elena merely nodded her acknowledgment.

Dr. Drew arrived in the room. “Status.”

“Patient went into V-fib about three minutes ago,” Elena reported.

“Let’s try not to lose her,” the doctor said. “Administer the epi.”

Elena inserted the med into the IV.

“Two hundred joules,” the doctor ordered.

Candace administered the jolt of electricity. The patient convulsed. The line on the monitor continued to flicker in an irregular beat.

After waiting for an agonizing moment, Dr. Drew ordered, “Three hundred joules.”

Checking the clock, Elena reported, “Seven minutes, doctor.”

Candace applied the paddles again.

The fluttering line spiked. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Sinus rhythm, doctor.” Elena exhaled. Her shoulders relaxed. The air cooled the sweat running down her neck.

“Good job, ladies.” Dr. Drew leaned over his patient to examine her.

Candace whispered, “Elena, can you finish up?” Her face as white as the sheets on the patient’s bed, she abruptly fled the room.

With a frown, Elena glanced at Anabelle, who was doing a good imitation of a Cheshire cat.

“I think she’s pregnant,” Anabelle silently mouthed.

Elena’s mouth rounded into an O. Returning the smile, Elena signaled a thumbs-up. She couldn’t think of a nicer couple to be having a baby than Candace and Heath.

Mentally, she began making plans for the baby shower sometime next summer.

C
LUMPS OF SNOW FLEW AT THE WINDSHIELD LIKE
a flock of birds flinging themselves against the glass. The wipers struggled to dislodge the frozen blobs. With each swipe, the view from inside the truck shrank. Sky and earth were one, the line between them indistinguishable.

The oversized truck tires barely gripped the roadway as he eased up the on-ramp to the interstate. Even in low gear, the truck threatened to lose traction on the curve. Mentally, James dug deeper, willing the tires to stay on track. To move cautiously forward. If the Deerford plow was somewhere ahead clearing a lane, it hadn’t entered the highway at the same on-ramp that James had used.

Although the heater blasted warm air into the truck cab, the temperature inside remained only slightly above freezing, with arctic air slipping in through invisible cracks. Even so, perspiration beaded on James’s forehead.

The truck labored through twelve inches of heavy snow. At this pace, he’d never make it to Springfield and back in time to save Witten’s life. Already it had been nearly two hours since Dr. Drew had gotten the phone call from UNOS.

“Where’s the plow?” he asked aloud, impatient and frightened for Mrs. Witten.

Do not be afraid, for I am with you
.

He’d heard that promise before. In Iraq. In the middle of a sandstorm when he was desperately trying to get a seriously wounded Marine to the base hospital. No evacuations by air that day. The weather made that impossible.

The visibility was no better now than it had been twenty-one years ago.

Do not be afraid, for I am with you
.

“And I with You, Lord,” James responded.

He gripped the steering wheel, his palms sweaty inside his lined gloves. The truck slewed through a mound of snow the plow had left behind. The tires touched a solid surface and gripped the roadway.

“Yes! Thank You, Lord!” The plow had cut a path for him from the second on-ramp out of Deerford. He should have checked with Dr. Drew before he left town, before picking the wrong on-ramp. Although, the city streets weren’t yet plowed either.

With better control, he increased his speed to twenty-five miles per hour. At that rate, he’d still be lucky to make the round trip while the liver was still viable. Despite his sense of urgency, he didn’t dare go any faster. Ending up in the ditch wouldn’t do Trisha Witten any good.

But now, with this section of highway plowed, and if more towns in front of him did the same, she had a chance to survive.

Isolated inside the truck, James drove on. Except for the evidence that a plow had passed this way recently, no sign of any other vehicle appeared out of the curtain of white. Two inches of snow already filled the path the plow had carved down the interstate.

His forehead furrowed with concentration, James soldiered on.

He reached the off-ramp to Tiskilwa. The Deerford plow had pulled to the side of the road. The driver stepped out of the cab and waved. James waved back and blinked his headlights in thanks.

Ahead the plowed furrow continued on the interstate toward Springfield. Tiskilwa had extended their helping hand in the effort to save a dying woman.

Town after town accepted and then handed off the task of clearing the road to the next community that lined the highway. Periodically, as James passed an on- or off-ramp, he spotted a state police car, red and blue lights swirling through the falling snow.

In this battle, James was not alone.

His chest filled with an ache of hope and thanksgiving. His eyes burned with tears and he rejoiced. Gratitude boosted his spirits and he recalled the familiar words of Psalm 23:41, King James Version: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

The troops in Iraq had repeated that verse often to themselves and to each other. The Lord was their shield. His rod and His staff guided them through danger to safety. His power staved off bullets that flew at them; His unending love protected them from mortars and land mines. Because of the Lord, they stayed the course until they completed the job they’d been sent to do.

The fog ahead of him lifted. James glimpsed the cleared road ahead. Cautiously, he increased his speed. Three-plus hours had past. Many more miles to go. But there was a chance now. A good chance for Mrs. Witten.

“Thank You, Lord, for walking beside me today and all through my life.”

At the second-floor nurses’ station, Candace sat resting her head on her elbow. She yawned. Surely within another few weeks she’d get past this dreadful fatigue and nausea. Then she could begin to enjoy her pregnancy.

Except for the telltale symptoms, it still seemed unreal that she was actually pregnant with Heath’s child.

Sensing someone nearby, Candace looked up.

“Candace, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner to relieve you.” Riley Hohmann, her nursing supervisor, looked fresh and energetic, her blonde hair neatly arranged in her signature French twist. “The roads were almost completely impassable between Wyanet and Deerford. Are you totally exhausted?”

She rubbed her eyes. “I’m fine. I’ve been catching naps in one of the rooms.”

“I still wouldn’t be here if Elena’s husband hadn’t come to drive me in. I left my kids with some neighbors.”

Candace tilted her head. “Cesar went to Wyanet to get you?” The small town where Riley lived was a good seven miles northwest of Deerford.

“I have the feeling Leila Hargrave would send out the National Guard to reel in her nurses if she could.”

Chuckling, Candace agreed.

“So, check out, find your handsome husband, and tell him it’s time to go home. The roads are clear here in Deerford, or they were a few minutes ago. And don’t come back until you’re well rested.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.” Riley made shooing motions with her hands. “It actually feels good to get back to work.”

Her legs heavy with fatigue, Candace went upstairs to Radiology.

When she found Heath, she told him about Riley’s orders. “Are you able to get away from here long enough to take me home?”