Ryan's Crossing (5 page)

Nicole looked up from checking her watch. “Yeah, Britt.”

“Her O2 sats are down a bit from this morning.”

“Okay. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Nicole.” Brittney paused.

“I got her, Britt.” Nicole walked over and placed an understanding hand on Brittney’s arm. “I’ll call you if she heads downhill. Promise.”

Brittney fought the tears striving to roll down her cheeks. “Thanks.” She cleared her throat and said, “I’ll see you next week.”

In the locker room she struggled to maintain her composure. As she traded her scrubs for jeans and a sweatshirt, her mind circled around Gracie’s latest test results. Stage IV. Results indicate non-Hodgkin lymphoma has spread in patient’s abdomen to include the intestines, colon, and spleen. Further tests show evidence of cancer cells in the blood and cerebrospinal fluid.

Oh, Daddy. Brittney sat down on the bench, covering her face with her hands as she prayed. Father, I know you are the Great Physician. If I could save any child, it would be Gracie. But more than her healing, I want Your best. Father, help me accept whatever that is, whatever that looks like. And cover Gracie with Your love while I’m gone. Please, Daddy, do not let her die alone.

She sat for a few minutes before grabbing her purse and heading to the elevators. She needed a hot bath and a good night’s sleep before she picked up Pops for the drive to wedding headquarters. And maybe a pint of Tillamook’s mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Hey, Mom!” Brittney stomped her snow-covered boots on the rough mat and closed the office door behind her. “Hey, Amber. I brought a treat!”

“What did you bring?” said Faye from her desk to the left of the door.

As if it were a trophy, Brittney held up a white bag featuring the logo of Romano’s Macaroni Grill. “Lemon passion cake from Romano’s.”

“Yes!” said Amber, slamming the file cabinet shut and walking over to join Brittney at Faye’s desk.

“Oh, that sounds delicious,” said Faye. “Where’s Pops?”

Brittney opened the bag and pulled out portions of the cake and three plastic forks. “He headed down to the shop to see if he could find any of the men-folk.”

Amber accepted the boxed slice of cake. Walking over to her own desk opposite Faye’s, she opened the box, smiled, and used the plastic fork to help herself to a taste. “Hmmm. This is really good,” said Amber. “Thanks!”

“You look tired,” said Faye, taking a bite of her own slice of cake.

“I am,” said Brittney. She lowered herself into a chair beside Faye’s desk.“One of my kids isn’t doing so well.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” said Faye. “How are the parents taking it?”

Brittney rolled her eyes. “Who knows? They’re at the Ronald McDonald House but rarely darken the oncology doors.”

“Why wouldn’t they be with their child?” said Amber, aghast.

“Sometimes parents are too selfish to spend much time on the ward. They find any excuse to leave because they can’t take the boredom of sitting in a hospital room. Sometimes they have other responsibilities, like jobs or children that make it difficult to stay for long periods of time. Some parents just find their child’s illness inconvenient to their own schedules.”

“But you don’t think these parents fall into any of those categories,” said Faye with knowing eyes.

“No, Mom, I don’t.” Brittney put her plate down on Faye’s desk. “I think these parents are just weak. When they come to visit, they want to spend all their time at the nurse’s station. When they do enter their daughter’s room, they act like they’re afraid to go anywhere near her. And when they leave, they can’t quit apologizing.”

“You, my dear, spend every day dealing with cancer,” said Faye. “Some people are intimidated by the machines and equipment you work with all the time.”

“I know, Mom. And I try to offer grace for that. But I watch them show up and leave within just thirty minutes almost every day. The mother especially seems burdened with guilt. And in the meantime, this five year old lays in a hospital bed twenty-four hours a day, alone.”

Amber paused with her fork in mid-air. “It sounds like this particular five year old means something to you.”

Brittney sighed, her eyes filling with tears. “Her name is Grace. Before chemo, she had blonde curls down her back and so much energy we had trouble keeping her in bed.”

“How bad is it now?” said Faye.

“Pretty bad, Mom. She has lymphoma, and it’s passed to her blood supply. The lab thinks it’s spread throughout her abdomen and into her spinal cord.”

“Brittney, we would love for you to participate in our wedding,” said Amber, “but don’t let us keep you from Grace. If you need to be there, then go.”

Brittney smiled. “Thanks. But she’s in good hands. Nicole said she’d call if things get worse. And I can’t do a thing for her that the nurses there aren’t already doing.” Brittney paused to look at Amber. “It’s another trust issue, right?”

“Right,” said Amber, pointing her fork at Brittney. “Do you trust God to take care of Grace or not?”

“Right,” said Brittney. She took a deep breath. “So, what’s going on around here? Catch me up on all the wedding news.”

“How ‘bout we close up this office early and head back to the house?” said Faye, putting her cake down and grabbing a tissue for her eyes.

“Who’s closing up early?” Peter stomped his boots and entered, leaving the door open for Ryan behind him. Upon closing the door, both men froze.

“Uh-oh,” said Peter. “Three women. All in tears. Open plates of half-eaten cake. Hormones must be in overdrive.”

“Hey!” said Brittney and Amber.

“Shall I sound a retreat?” said Ryan.

“To the grocery store for ice cream,” said Peter.

“Already got it in the car,” said Brittney, looking up at the stranger beside her brother.

“You brought it with you?” said Peter. “This is serious!”

“You can’t even imagine!” Not wanting to talk about Grace any more, Brittney feigned great drama. Throwing a hand to her forehead, effectively hiding the dampness around her eyes, she said, “I broke a nail!” She held her other hand out toward the guys.

“Please!” said Peter, throwing a glove at her face.

“Sweet! I needed a new glove,” said Brittney, catching it.

With thoughts of the sick child effectively removed, Faye giggled. “You two. Are any of you children going to remember your manners and introduce Ryan?”

“This is your brother?” said Brittney.

“Yeah,” said Amber. “But watch it. He and Peter are getting along very well.” She looked at Brittney, raising one eyebrow.

“Are they now?” said Brittney, eying him appraisingly. “And has he been warned?”

“Warned about what?” said Ryan.

“Brittney, what are you thinking?” said Faye.

“Britt,” said Peter.

Amber giggled.

“Well, I’m just saying,” said Brittney in all innocence. “If the men-folk are getting along so nicely…”

“Britt,” said Peter with a warning in his tone.

Brittney stood and faced her brother. “Yes, my dear Peter?”

“Uh, Ryan?” said Peter. “Remember that retreat you were talking about?”

“Yeah,” said Ryan.

“Now might be a good time,” said Peter.

“Uh-huh,” said Ryan. “Well, ladies, it was good to see you. Nice to meet you, Brittney. But we must be gettin’ along. We have…uh…lists…”

“Logs…” said Peter.

“Logs… to uh, count,” said Ryan.

“Cut,” said Peter.

“Right. Cut,” said Ryan.

As both men backed out of the logging office, the ladies broke out in laughter.

“Brittney, dear. What are you thinking?” said Faye.

“Amber,” said Brittney, “how many pranks did your family pull growing up?”

“None,” said Amber.

“Perfect,” said Brittney. “Why don’t we…”

“Stop right there,” said Faye. “You guys have your fun, but leave my ears out of this so’s I can’t be sweet talked out of any information!”

Chapter 8

RYAN PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY
and saw Rachel-Amber’s soon-to-be sister-in-law sitting on the porch swing. He parked and walked over to her.

“Kinda cold for sitting outside, isn’t it?”

“Most of the time,” said Brittney. Her warm breath turned to fog in the chilled air.

“Only most?”

“I needed to be outside for a bit but didn’t feel like going for a walk on my own.”

“Would you rather be alone sitting here?” said Ryan.

“No. Do you mind sitting for a bit?”

“You’re not going to have me sit in a pile of superglue or something?”

She smiled mischievously but shook her head. “Peter’s been talking, huh?”

“Between the stories he and Pops shared Sunday, I’m glad I went ahead and moved to town to stay with my parents above the hardware store!”

“Chicken.”

He grinned. Brittney may be two or three inches shorter than him and not any bigger around than his skinny sister, but her spunk appealed to him. “You don’t back down from a fight, do you?”

“Not if it’s worth fighting.”

A glint of determination in her eyes caught his attention. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a nurse.”

“In Portland?”

“Yeah. Doernbecher Children’s Hospital.”

“You work with kids?” That appealed to Ryan, who also had a soft spot where children were concerned. “What ward?”

She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. “Oncology.” Her voice was low.

“Whoa. You are a fighter.” Giving the seat a quick glance, he finally sat down beside her. Something in her pose, the defensive movement of pulling her legs against her, pulled at Ryan’s protective instincts.

“Sometimes the battle makes you weary,” she said.

“You got a kid having a rough time?”

“Yeah.”

Her look seemed distant, like she was at the hospital. She cares deeply. Ryan turned slightly sideways in the porch swing, laying his arm along the back. His fingers brushed her shoulder.

Brittney blinked and looked at him. “What about you? What do you do?”

“Paramedic.”

“Really? Where at?”

“I’m down in McWilliam, but I don’t know how long I’m staying there.”

“How come?”

Ryan clenched his jaw for a moment and stared across the front yard. “It just doesn’t feel like the right place. My boss is great, and the guys I work with are fine.” Ryan paused. “I don’t know. Mom says I’m restless. Maybe she’s right.”

“Are you sure being a paramedic is the right job?”

“I love the job, or at least most of it. I don’t think I could deal with floor duty in a hospital.”

“Being a paramedic certainly has a rush that’s not as common as where I work. But what about the ER? That’s more high activity.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think so.”

“Is it the people?”

He turned to look at her. “The patients?”

“Well, them, too,” said Brittney. “But first I guess you need to decide if you like working with just a few people, like you do in the ambulance, or a lot of people like you’d encounter at a hospital. I don’t mind a lot of people, but when I work, I’d rather just focus on a few. I’d rather develop relationships so I can see the nuances that sometimes make the difference in diagnosis and treatment.”

“Guess I’ve never thought about that before.” Ryan sat back.

“Not sure it helps you figure out what to do with the job in McWilliam, but it might help you narrow the possibilities.”

“Especially if I head into Portland.”

“Portland?” Brittany looked at him more closely. “Thinking about moving closer to your family?”

Ryan shrugged noncommittally. “Just a thought.”

Ryan heard an engine behind him. He and Brittney both turned to watch a black Camry pulling into the drive.

“There’s Mom and Amber. Want to go inside for some coffee?”

The car drove around to the three-car garage on the far side of the house. Ryan heard the garage door opening.

“Can I ask you a question? I’ve noticed that Peter and Amber are rarely alone, especially in a car or building. And now I’m guessing that you kept me out here until someone else showed up. Why is that?”

“Most people think it’s a bit old-fashioned, but it’s all about accountability. We try hard not to be alone in a private space with someone of the opposite gender that we’re not related or married to. Just keeps everyone safe from accusations and misunderstandings.”

Ryan’s mind reeled. Were these people seriously living by standards of the 1950s? “So you wouldn’t get into a car alone with me to drive to town.”

“Not unless it was an emergency.”

“And Peter and Amber won’t drive alone until they are married?”

“Yep.”

“But they’re getting married in a couple of days.”

“No. They are planning on getting married in a couple days. What if something happens, and the wedding gets canceled? What if one of them isn’t as sure as we think they are and backs out? If they’ve already crossed the line the Bible places on single people, thinking it’s okay because the wedding date is set, do you see the mess that would create if plans changed?”

“Interesting.” He stood and looked at her. “It’s a tough standard to maintain these days.” He reached out a hand, helping her out of the swing.