The Still of Night (7 page)

“I’ll explain everything involved. If you’d like, we could get together.”

And Kelsey, too?
“That would be fine.”

“Would you be able to come here? To Des Moines? It’s hard for me to leave right now.”

“Of course. When?” Jill glanced at her calendar, but in truth, nothing on there mattered at the moment.

“Tomorrow afternoon?”

They arranged a time and Jill wrote down directions to the Bensons’ house. By the time she hung up, she was shaking like one of the motorized balls she used to stimulate kinesthetic learning. Fifteen years and she was going to see Kelsey.

CHAPTER

4

J
ill sat down in the lavender vinyl chair and lifted her wet hair while Crystal arranged the nylon drape over her. Crystal ran her fingernails over Jill’s scalp and drew the hair out from her head to its full length. “What do you want?”

“A change.”

“Radical?”

“Well, nothing spiked or shaved.”

Crystal laughed and scratched the ear that held six rings and a clip. Her own hair stood in two-inch spikes at the top and hugged her head like a female crew cut, then reverted to spikes at the back of her neck. “No, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet. But I do think you could consider short.”

“How short?” Jill was starting to worry.

“Something playful. Something with attitude.”

Jill smiled. “I’ve been hearing I need that.”

“Trust me?”

The nerves shot up her spine, and she hissed a quick breath between clenched teeth. “Sure.” She held that face as Crystal took up a strand and brought the scissors to within four inches of her head, then caught her breath and closed her eyes with the snip.

“Now I have to match the rest.”

Jill nodded mutely. She’d kept her appointment, hoping a new look might bolster her for the real purpose of her day, and to fill the time until she could go to Des Moines.

“You see the way your bones go here?” Crystal traced her cheekbones with a long-nailed fingertip. “The long, straight hair was ruining that line. And here.” Crystal touched the corner of her jaw. “This angle was lost altogether. But you are going to love what I do to you.” Jill straightened bravely. “Then do away.” She watched the hair fall in long strands. She could sell it like the woman in O. Henry’s “Gift of the Magi.” Then she thought of all the combs and barrettes and scrunchies she wouldn’t need anymore.
Oh boy
.

Maybe it wasn’t a good day for change, not when her whole reality had been inverted by a letter. Suddenly Kelsey wasn’t just a memory or a dream. She was real, and she was sick. Jill closed her eyes as Crystal worked. What was she doing worrying about a haircut when Kelsey’s thoughts must encompass life and death? It wasn’t real yet. That was the problem. Talking to Cinda, making their plans … it hadn’t penetrated somehow.

It would today, though, and maybe intrinsically she needed something as frivolous as a haircut to ground her. Jill opened her eyes and watched. Crystal was wasted on the little corner shop. She was truly gifted and had an eye to match a face with a style that brought out the best in both. Jill stared at her reflection. “I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“I look …”

“Fabulous. All you needed was a little pizzazz.”

Jill shook her head. It felt strange, but she loved it. She looked confident and saucy and elegant at the same time. She faced Crystal. “You are a pro.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, really. You have a gift.”

Crystal laughed and rubbed her fingernails on her cape. “Got the touch, baby.”

Walking out to her car, Jill was struck by the airy breeze in her hair. It felt light and feathery, the thick, soft strands tossing about …with an attitude. She drew a long breath, ready to face anything. After all, she was the one who could help. Finally.

Cinda had said they kept Sunday afternoons free. Jill got into the car. She had an hour-and-a-half drive to Des Moines to prepare herself. Emotions surged. She would meet her daughter, though she had sensed Cinda’s discomfort. And she didn’t blame her. The woman had enough to deal with worrying about Kelsey. Of course she must feel protective. She probably wished there was another way without involving Kelsey’s birth mom. Jill’s insides roiled. This was her chance.

She contained a surge of tension. How would it be to see her now? How would she look? Surely not the way she imagined her, healthy and rosy and happy. What if she looked … Jill shook her head. But it wouldn’t matter how Kelsey looked, she was so starved for one glimpse.
Oh, Lord, give me strength. Let me do the right things, say the right things
.

Cinda’s directions were clear and easy to follow. Jill found the house and parked at the curb. Pulling into the driveway would be too much like coming home. This was not her home. This was not her child. She had to be careful, to remember what was real. Cinda and Roger were Kelsey’s parents. But now the girl would know she had another. She walked to the door, bolstered by the thought.

Cinda pulled it open almost immediately. She was heavier than she’d been the one time they’d met fourteen years and ten months ago, and her brown hair was flecked with silver. Her smile was strained but warm. “Hello, Jill. Thank you for coming.”

Jill’s throat was too tight for words. This was not going to be easy. She smiled and followed Cinda inside. The small house was a farmhouse style, probably built in the fifties. Wood floors, lots of windows. Cinda pushed open the back screen door and motioned for her to sit on the floral-patterned patio chair. “I thought we’d chat a bit out here, okay?”

“Okay.” Jill cleared her throat, glancing about the backyard with a swing in the trees, a small garden along the fence, a cornfield beyond.

Cinda said, “I know this is hard for you. I can only imagine how hard.”

“It’s hard for both of us. But I’m so thankful you wrote.” And she was, even if that letter had thrown her emotions into a whirlwind.

“I would have called, but I couldn’t find your number.”

“It’s unlisted.” But she had already given it to Cinda when she responded to the letter. Now she was only a phone call away from any news.

Cinda sat on the edge of the chaise. “I would have preferred to give you that kind of information … well, a letter seemed so impersonal. I was afraid you wouldn’t respond.”

Jill shook her head. “How could I not?”

Cinda looked weary, drained. “You’ve gone on with your life. I thought maybe you wouldn’t—or couldn’t …”

“Please.” Jill leaned forward and touched her hand. “I’ll do anything I can.”

Tears sprang to Cinda’s eyes, and she sniffed. “I swore I wouldn’t do this.”

“I understand.” More than she knew.

Cinda brushed the tears with the back of her hand. “She’s just so sick.”

“I’m sorry.” Jill pressed the fingers she held, sensing Cinda’s distress and the small reserves of strength that held it in check. What fear must she wake to every day?

“They weren’t sure they could achieve a new remission. It’s taken three months to get this close, and they’re not sure how long it will last. A bone marrow transplant is her only chance for survival, ten to thirty percent statistically.”

Jill couldn’t stop the reaction to that bleak figure.

“I know,” Cinda said, “but without it, the numbers are zero to five percent. Not that we don’t believe she can beat the odds. She’s a fighter.” Cinda shook her head, then sighed. “It’s just that she’s already been through so much, things a child should never have to face. But the Lord is good, and He knows best.”

Jill nodded. It took a deep abiding faith to believe that in a time like this. Or did she say the words to convince herself?

Cinda straightened, drew a long breath, and gained control. “You need to know Roger and I thought it would be better not to tell her, yet, who you are.”

Jill’s spirit deflated like a pin-punctured balloon.

“Kelsey knows she’s adopted, but the doctor agreed that now might not be the best time for her to deal with any more than she has to. She’s very fragile.”

Of course that made sense. The sudden anger and hurt were illogical, selfish, wrong. The most important thing was getting Kelsey through this. But how could she meet her daughter and not … not what? Take her in her arms and say she was her mommy?

She wasn’t her mommy. And Kelsey had grown past that stage. She was an adolescent, though Jill never imagined her that way. At any rate, she saw the protective fear in Cinda’s brown eyes. “What do we tell her?”

“We told her you are a donor who shows a promising match. We know you will, because she’s inherited at least one complete haplotype from … I’m sorry, these medical terms have become a daily part of my vocabulary.”

“That’s all right. Just explain it.”

“Antigens on the lymphocytes are inherited in groups called haplotypes. In the past, transplants have only been possible with a full sixsix antigen match or, at worst, one antigen off. So a sibling is the best chance. Even then it’s only one in four that another child would inherit the same combination as Kelsey. We didn’t expect that possibility, though I had to ask in my letter.” Cinda seemed to calm as she spoke, as though focusing on the clinical facts siphoned the emotion.

“But we’ve found an oncologist who transplants with a single haplotype match using a related donor. There are surface factors they don’t completely understand that make a family member a better match.”

Jill nodded.

“When you have the first blood drawn, they’ll do a test that will confirm a match of one haplotype, three antigens. With your genetic connection, that much is assured. If we’re very blessed, there may be more.”

Jill’s head spun, not from the medical terms, but from thinking of her genetics connecting her to Kelsey, the child she had formed inside her body. She was very aware of Cinda’s choice of words. Her genetic connection.
Lord, help me
. How could she not show it? Not betray her motherhood to the child?

“If other tests confirm compatibility, then they would do the extraction and transport the marrow to the center, where Kelsey will have been prepared.”

Jill caught those words, as well. She had made assumptions that Cinda might never have meant regarding seeing Kelsey. There were no direct tubes from her body to Kelsey’s transferring the marrow. They would not even have to be in the same room, if she understood “transport the marrow.” Fighting disappointment, Jill forced the question she had to ask. “May I see her?”

Cinda could say no to even that. But she nodded. “I thought you’d want to. It’s complicated, the relationships being what they are.”

“If you’d rather I not …”
Please, don’t say no
. She might never have the chance again.

Cinda smiled gently. “I think it’s right.”

Jill’s throat seized. “Thank you.” Like a sleepwalker, she followed Cinda up the narrow wooden stairs that creaked underfoot. Amy Grant’s soulful voice drifted from the front bedroom, bright with sunight. The walls were covered with a small apple-blossom pattern, matched by a ruffled chintz balloon shade at the window. The bed was a white four-poster with an eyelet spread and apple-green-striped pillow shams.

Jill fought the rush of tears as her eyes fixed on the young teen nestled there, pale and bald. She was smaller than Jill expected, more like twelve than fourteen in both size and development. And yes, she looked terribly fragile. The features were her own, but the eyes …
Oh, Lord, the eyes are Morgan’s
. Jill’s heart turned over slowly. Her daughter. Their daughter.

Cinda laid a hand on Kelsey’s thin shoulder. “Kelsey, this is Jill.”

Kelsey pressed the button on the CD player to stop the music and eyed her directly. “Hi.”

Jill forced her voice to come. “Hello, Kelsey. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Again
. She flashed on the memory of the tiny newborn she’d held so briefly in her arms but carried a full nine months inside her.

“Mom said you might match my bone marrow?” Her voice was clear and direct. She had a poise and presence beyond her years.

Maybe suffering did that. She didn’t have time for childish insecurities. Her life was pared down to the basics.

“The chances are good.” Jill’s voice came out remarkably calm.
This is my daughter I’m talking to!
What would Morgan say? What would he think in her position?

“Do you mind if I ask why?” Kelsey was no fool. How had they explained a stranger offering bone marrow to her? How did the unrelated donor program work? She should have read about it before coming.

Jill fumbled. “I work with kids who have problems. I believe in organ transplants and any kind of medical procedure that helps people survive.” Where had that come from?

“So it’s like a ministry or something?”

“A ministry?” She looked at Kelsey’s eyes, so, so blue. “Yes. In a way.” A ministry to her daughter, a chance from God to—

“Have you given marrow before, for someone else?”

Throat tightening, Jill shook her head. “No. This will be the first time.”

Kelsey’s lips tightened. “It’s painful.” Her eyes were red rimmed and far too large for her shrunken face. “Even though they sedate you, it hurts for days.” Her gaze didn’t waver.

Was she testing her commitment? “It’ll be all right.” She touched Kelsey’s hand. The skin was soft and warm, and an almost electrical thrill passed through her with the touch. Her daughter.
Oh, God, she has to live!

Kelsey smiled, and it wrenched Jill’s heart. “I didn’t know someone would care enough. I mean …” She glanced at Cinda. “My parents would do it, if they could, but I’m adopted.”

“Oh.” Jill’s voice was hardly a whisper. “I’m sure they’ve done a lot more than this for you.”

Kelsey smiled at Cinda, and Jill ached at the relationship she saw between them.
Oh, God, oh please, God …

Cinda patted Kelsey’s shoulder. A simple, familiar gesture. Jill wished she could touch her daughter that way. Did Kelsey notice their likeness? Jill wanted her to, hoped she would guess. But that was selfish. Kelsey didn’t need to deal with anything more. Cinda and the doctor were right.