Family Matters (20 page)

“The whole time I was singing, I thought he was there.”

“I know,” she said, touching his little face. “I could tell by the way you were singing. I've never seen anybody sing quite so well.” She kissed him. “Come on. Let's go get that hot fudge sundae.”

When they got to the restaurant, they both ordered sundaes and, as the waitress brought them out, they giggled at how huge they were. The ice cream was jammed into icy fountain glasses and covered with huge knots of whipped cream. As Cody poured chocolate over his, Jennie tried Michael on his cell phone.

“I'm going to call your father,” she told Cody. Then when he didn't answer, she called the main number at the hospital. She waited on the line for almost ten minutes while they paged him. “He must still be in the cardiac room,” the nurse told her.

Jennie and Cody finished their sundaes and headed home. Cody went to bed. Every half hour Jennie tried to reach him.

It was past midnight when Jennie found a nurse she knew. Someone told her that Sally Rogers was on the floor. Sally usually worked with Michael when he had patients at Parkland. “Let me talk to her. She'll tell me what I need to know.”

“I don't know where he is, Jennie,” Sally told her when she came to the phone. “We were all in cardiac room two but nobody's answering over there. Michael hasn't checked out yet. I know he's still in the building.”

“What's going on with Bill Josephs? Will he be okay?”

Sally hesitated, but only for a moment. “They lost him, Jennie. Michael worked on him a long time but he couldn't save him.”

Jennie hung up and sat down by the phone, thinking of Michael, remembering his words,
You're the most important thing in the world to me.

She wasn't going to be influenced by her doubts anymore. God had a hope and a promise for her, and she was going to find it.

Jennie bundled Cody up in blankets and carried him downstairs. She decided to drop him off at Andy's house. She knew she was imposing, but she had to find Michael.

He woke up when she put him in the car. “Where are we going?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“No need to wake up,” she whispered. “I'm going to take you to Andy's for a while. I'm going to the hospital to be with your dad, okay?”

Even though he was half asleep, he smiled. “Yeah,” he said, yawning. “That's real okay.”

Jennie found Michael in the hospital chapel. She guessed he might be there quietly grieving for his friend. And, as she silently closed the massive wooden door and stepped up behind him, she knew without a doubt that, because of the fine, caring doctor he was, there were going to be times in their lives that he couldn't put her first.

What mattered was what she'd seen in his eyes when he'd left the fund-raiser. What mattered were the words he'd shared, how he'd made her feel, how he'd made her trust him.

She wanted to be there for him, now, and for a lifetime.

“Michael,” she whispered. “I'm here.”

He raised his eyes and looked at her almost as if he didn't recognize her. “Jen?”

“Hi.” It was the only thing she could think of to say as she broke out into a crazy grin.

“What are you doing here?”

She reached out to him and stroked one strand of hair back from his face. She tucked it behind his ear. It was exactly the way she would have comforted Cody. “I heard about Bill. I'm so sorry.”

Michael nodded his head, still too much in grief and shock to question her presence. “I can't believe we lost him, Jen. I tried everything. I don't remember it ever being so rough….”

“You probably have never done that for someone you cared so much about.”

He met her eyes. “You're right.”

“I figured things weren't going well when you didn't come back to the show.”

“You thought I'd come back?” So he'd betrayed her once and disappointed her twice.

“Only if you could get away. Cody did fine. Very well, in fact.”

“I wish I could have seen him.”
I wish Bill could have lived. I wish we hadn't messed up so long ago.
His wish list was a mile long.

“Cody understands.”

“He does?”

She nodded. “Yes.” Her voice was so soft now he almost couldn't hear her. “Because he loves you very, very much.”

He smiled at her, a sad smile but a smile just the same. “That helps me, you know.”

“I'm so sorry, Michael.” All of a sudden, she was babbling like a child. “I've had no right…I've done this to you all your life. I've been making you choose—or
say
you were choosing—when it really wasn't your choice at all….”

With two hands, he cupped the top of her head and swept her long, straight hair away from her temples so he could read her eyes. “Are you saying that you're forgiving me?”

She shook her head. “I'm saying there isn't anything to forgive. Or there isn't now anyway. Once maybe there would have been. But not anymore. That's changed, hasn't it, Michael?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice gentle. “It has.” He gazed up at the window. “I can't believe Bill's gone. I had to come out of that cardiac room and tell Marge. Oh, Jen, that's the hardest thing I've ever done, telling her like that. And the only thing I kept thinking was that she'd lost Bill and that I'd lost you. I envied her even as I grieved with her. Because the two of them grew old together and we wouldn't have the chance.”

“I'm so proud of you,” she said. “Don't you see? It's exactly the same thing we've been telling Cody all these months. You didn't save Bill. But you gave him your best shot. You tried. Hasn't watching Cody all these months taught you the importance of that?” Then she gripped his arms with both hands. “You may have lost Bill Josephs, Michael,” she told him. “But you haven't lost us. You haven't lost me and Cody.”

He stared at her. “What are you saying? Are you saying you're willing to try again?”

As though the gesture were made by someone else, she felt herself nodding. The next thing she knew, he crushed her in his arms. “I'm saying I don't want to lose you,” she said. “I'm saying that I want to save us.” She pulled back just a bit from him so she could read his face. “I'm saying that I love you, Michael—very, very much.” And she couldn't stop herself from laughing then because she'd finally said it. “All over again.”

He thought of letting Bill Josephs go. His good friend was probably telling an angel a joke, right about now, now that he'd arrived in heaven.

Michael thought about the times God had called him to let go. He'd probably have to be reminded of the lesson plenty more times.

But he saw now, how if you let something go to God, sometimes it got returned to you a thousandfold.

He held Jennie's shoulders, still astounded that the heartache of the past few hours was redeeming itself now with such promise. “I love you, Jennie. I don't think I ever stopped loving you—ever—but now it's more. More—and different.”

“I know,” she said as she nestled against him and felt safer, more complete, than she'd ever felt before. “I know.”

All three of them sat on the couch the next night, munching popcorn Michael had made, talking about their lives together and planning the wedding.

“I knew it! I knew it!” Cody cried when they told him. “Are we going to live here? Or are we going to live at Dad's house?”

Michael glanced at Jennie. They hadn't had time to discuss this. But, really, things had happened so fast they hadn't had time to discuss anything. “I thought it might be more fun if we moved someplace new,” he said.

Jennie raised her eyebrows at him. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I did.” He didn't say anything else. He thought he'd just sit there and tantalize her for a moment. He loved teasing her.

“Are you going to tell us more about this?”

He crossed his arms proudly. “Maybe.”

“Michael!”

“Daddy!”

They both hollered in unison and he grinned.

“Well,” he said, drawing it out and taking a maddeningly long time. “I've found a place north of town, a small ranch close to Plano. I thought it might be nice to live there.”

Jennie looked at him suspiciously, an idea dawning on her. “Have I seen this place by any chance?”

He raised his eyebrows and grinned again. “Maybe.”

“Michael!”

Suddenly they were both punching and tickling him. Jennie was saying, “The place where we went riding! Michael, that place is beautiful! Michael!”

“I've—planned—it—for—a—while….” he said, gasping as he tried to fend them off. “I'd given up, though. I figured we weren't ever going to be all together to live there.”

He waited until they'd calmed down to tell them that Marge had offered to let them have Bill's horses. “She'll be glad they've got a good home.” When he said it, he had tears in his eyes.

“I can't believe this!” Cody kept saying. “I really can't
believe
this!”

“Believe it, son,” Michael said, holding him close on the sofa and rumpling his hair. “Believe it. And know that most of it came about because of you. Your bravery has taught your mother and me some important lessons.”

Cody grinned from ear to ear as he stuffed popcorn into his mouth. And it was after eleven o'clock before he went to bed. They each kissed him goodnight then they both sat by the fire, holding on to each other as the flaming logs turned into steady embers in the fireplace.

T
he sun rose over the house in a watercolor wash of color—blues…lavenders…pinks. It would be hours still until the wavering heat of summertime hit the ranch in earnest.

A meadowlark sang out from the dew-covered Johnson grass where once, not so long ago, Jennie and Michael had ridden Dan and Kimbo.

The ranch north of Plano was theirs now. Michael had put the offer in with the Realtor just as soon as Jennie had agreed to marry him. And it had been in Jennie's mind all along that the place would make a lovely backdrop for the wedding.

Upstairs, as the sun moved higher and cast an oblong shape of light on the floor, Cody rolled over and yawned. It was morning. Time to get up. And then he remembered what morning it was! The wedding day! The day his mom and his dad got married all over again.

He flipped back the covers and climbed out, reaching for his chair as his eyes grew even more accustomed to the growing light. Then he rolled across the room to the row of books on the shelf beside his desk. Right beside him, next to the wall, stood the crutches he'd never wanted to use.

Cody pushed his weight forward a bit in his chair and reached for them. They were wonderful things, new and shiny, like swords. As he held them in his lap, he thought about something. Just suppose he should give his mom and dad a wedding present. Just suppose he should try to stand up, right now. Just suppose he should do it. Just suppose.

Slowly, gingerly, he balanced the weight of the crutches in his hands. They felt cool and heavy. Strong. And just right.

He slipped one hand into each one and grabbed on to the handhold. He lowered their tips to the floor. Slowly, slowly, he pushed on them. They held firm. Instead his whole body felt like it wanted to rise up and stand with them. So, he tried it. He clenched his muscles tight just the way Andy had showed him. Then he pushed off.

His arms started shaking like an earthquake. He felt as if he were about to fall and break his head. But he kept at it.

Andy says if I can just do this, I can walk someday,
he reminded himself. And, all of a sudden, he had it, he was standing there, straight up like a fence post, and his legs were supporting him.

“Hey!” he said out loud to no one. “Look at me! Look at this!” That's when he realized he had to show somebody. He started hollering as loud as he could. “Mom! Mom! Mom!
Quick!
”

She came running into his room, still in her nightgown, with her hair all loose and tangled around her shoulders and she looked scared. “Honey? Are you okay?” Then she saw him, and he thought her eyes might pop out of her head. “Cody!”

“I'm doing it!” he shouted at her. “Happy Wedding Day present! I'm doing it!”

“Cody.” She ran to him and bundled him up into her arms and he had no idea why she had tears pouring down all over her face. “Oh, Cody!”

“It's your present for today. I'm going to show Dad, too, when he gets here.”

“You do that,” she said, still crying. “He won't believe it. He'll be just as proud of you as I am.”

“I'm standing—I'm standing—I'm standing—” he said over and over and over again.

“You're tall,” Jennie said. “I'll bet you've grown three inches at least!” She hugged him. “You did it, Cody,” she kept saying. “You did it! You did it!”

“I did!” Cody hollered, throwing his head back and letting it sink in at last. “I did! I did! I did!” He raised one fist and waved it in the air for all of them, a little fist that signaled an enormous victory.

And that was the way the day started.

Someone, one of their many friends who wanted to make a big celebration out of this wedding, had twisted miles and miles of pink crepe paper along the white corral fences. Someone else had tied a huge satin bow on the front door. Michael and Jennie both wanted the service to be small and simple. But their friends were elated. People brought so much food that the tables were absolutely groaning.

It seemed two o'clock would never arrive. But, by one-fifteen, guests started turning into the driveway. “Hi, Mark!” Cody cried as Mark Kendall climbed out of his car. “Where's Andy?”

“She'll be along in a few minutes. She's coming with Buddy. He stopped by her place to pick her up.”

“Buddy?” Cody asked. “Buddy Draper's coming? Wow!”

Marge Josephs came next, carrying a huge bouquet of rosebuds from her garden. They were the exact, delicate color of an eggshell. “These are for Jennie,” she said after she'd hugged Michael. “Can I take them up?”

“Sure,” he said, giving her one more squeeze. She looked good. Her eyes shone bright and her hair glowed like silver filigree in the sunlight. “They're beautiful.”

“They're from Bill's garden.” She smiled, a bittersweet smile full of love. “He planted them several years ago. They keep coming back.”

“How are you feeling?”

She answered honestly. “I'm getting a little better every day. My grandkids are sure keeping me busy.”

“Good.” He squeezed her forearm. “Grandkids are just what the doctor orders.” He glanced up at the window where he knew Jennie waited. “You be sure and tell her those are from Bill.”

“I will.”

Marge hurried off and the minister drove up. It was time for the service to begin. From just beneath the tree, a college girl they'd hired began to play the
Wedding March
on a lovely old harp. As Michael bid a brief farewell to his friends, he looked around quickly for his best man.

There he was, sitting in his wheelchair beside the harp, dressed in a black tuxedo just his size, exactly the same as his father's. “You ready for this, kiddo?” He winked. “It's time to go stand by the minister.”

“I'm ready,” Cody said, rolling his wheelchair toward the makeshift altar, his crutches lying across his knees.

“You're sure?” Michael asked.

“I'm sure,” Cody answered.

“If you get tired, we'll stop the ceremony and you can sit back down.”

They'd planned it all today at lunch, when Cody had presented the wedding present to his father, too. He parked his wheelchair in the appointed spot and, with Michael gripping his elbow, he stood, proud and tall beside his father.

As the harpist strummed softly, out stepped Jennie.

Michael had never seen her look more beautiful than she did at that moment, standing in the sun, as she beamed and waved at Cody. She wore a beige satin dress that fell in a straight sheath to the floor, with miniature beige orchids woven into a circlet atop her head. She looked like an angel as she stepped forward, her dress trailing in the lush grass, and came to stand beside them.

“Dearly beloved…” The minister began the vows. Jennie took Michael's hand and squeezed it.

“Love you,” she mouthed to both of them.

“Me, too,” Michael mouthed back.

When the minister called for the rings, Cody held on to the tree trunk for support and handed his father the ring. “Here you go, Dad,” he whispered proudly. “Put this on her.”

And, as Michael slipped the wedding ring onto the finger of the woman he loved, the years seemed to sear together in his mind, how he'd wanted Jennie then, how he loved her now.

How much God had blessed them all. How grateful Michael would always be.

He met her eyes and repeated the age-old words, meaning, feeling, every one of them. “For better,” which they'd had. “For worse,” which they'd had, too.

“In sickness and in health.” Perhaps, for now, it would be health. Dr. Phillips had recently confirmed it.

Cody wouldn't need the surgery.

“For richer and for poorer.”

“As long as we both shall live,” the minister prompted.

Michael gazed down at the woman who stood before him now, at the mother of his son, and he felt as if he'd already loved her forever. Perhaps he had.

He could see the reflection of all he needed in her clear, gray eyes. “As long as we both shall live,” he repeated.