Hope Springs (36 page)

CHAPTER FORTY
Thursday, February 11

J
anelle and Kory didn't get their first date Monday night. She knew what time the court hearing had been scheduled for—ten thirty a.m.—and she'd watched the hospital clock attentively. Kory was there, she just knew it. He would call or text her afterward to let her know he'd prayed and had a peace still about going forward. He and Shelley were officially over.

Eleven o'clock came, then eleven thirty, then three o'clock as they drove out of the hospital parking lot. By nightfall, she'd swung to the exact opposite—he and Shelley were back together. And as she awoke Thursday, that's where she remained.

Janelle lingered in bed. She had an hour before she needed to awaken Daniel for school. Grandma Geri had finished her third round of chemo and had an appointment with her oncologist late morning. Janelle hadn't heard her stirring yet. She had an urge to write in her journal.

From under the covers, she turned on her bedside lamp, hoping she wouldn't wake Stephanie in the other bed. She reached for the journal on the nightstand, opened it, and took the pen from inside. She turned to the last page on which she'd written, skipped a line, and wrote the date—February 11—and waited for words to spill from her heart.

Dear God,

It seems so strange to write to You about another man. For the last two years these pages have filled with the ups and downs of life without David . . . mostly the downs, as You know. But this morning, Lord, I really need to talk to someone about Kory. And You're the only One who can understand because You understand me better than anyone.

You know how deeply I feel, how much I like to reflect. You know how I love to dream even as I project the practical, commonsense side of myself. When Libby and Steph and Becca asked how I was doing this week, I told the truth. By Your grace I felt strengthened to move on again. But that wasn't the whole truth. How could I tell them that from that short period of life with Kory, I had something to mourn?

Janelle wiped her tears with the sleeve of her pajama top. She didn't care how much she cried. She wanted to cry. If she let all her tears out now, maybe they'd be done.

But, Lord, You know . . . I dreamed of our lives becoming one. I dreamed of our families becoming one. I saw in Kory a father for Daniel, and in Daniel a son for Kory. I dreamed of being a second mother to Dee, and oh how I dreamed of Dee and Tiffany as sisters. I could see that, Lord, the two of them growing up together, in the same classes, sharing clothes and shoes, talking into the night. I saw Kory as the strong man Tiffany will need in her life, a man who will love her unconditionally so that she'll have no need to seek pseudo love from an immature boy.

And, Lord, I dreamed of Kory as my husband. I knew he still belonged to someone else, and You know how hard I tried not to think it. I would've never told him that. But in those unguarded moments of my soul, I dreamed of knowing his every mood, what he's like on lazy days around the house, how much he whines when he's sick. I dreamed of being his wife, of loving him with abandon and revealing myself without reservation.

And now, Lord, once again I must mourn—this time the loss of a dream. The loss of what almost was. It would seem almost silly if my heart weren't aching so.

She picked a tissue from the box and dabbed her face and another to blow her nose.

But, Lord, as much as it hurts, I pray Your best for Kory and Shelley. I pray that You heal their marriage. Renew their hopes and dreams and establish them. Be the bridge that leads them back to a strong connection of the heart. And sweet little Dee . . . thank You for returning her mother to her. I pray that you bond them as mother and daughter.

Her chest heaved from the quiet sobs that remained.

And finally, Lord, help me to cling to You, not David or Kory or even my grief. I want to cling to You and trust You. Help me to believe that You are working all things together for good in my life despite how it looks or feels.

Yours
Janelle

She stared at the page, then tucked the pen back into the journal and closed it. All the emotion had left her tired. She could sleep another two hours at least, but she forced herself up and out of bed. In the kitchen she started a pot of coffee. As she made her way to the bathroom, she heard a loud thump—and the sound of someone crying out.

Her heart was thumping itself as she rushed to the bedroom and stooped beside her grandmother.

“I don't know what's wrong,” Grandma Geri said. “I tried to get out of bed and I just fell. I can't move.”

Janelle jumped up. “I'm getting my phone to call 911. Be right back.”

She ran and got her phone as Stephanie came out of the room.

“What's going on?” she said.

“Grandma can't move. I'm dialing 911.”

Janelle ran back to her grandmother's side, Stephanie at her heels, telling the operator the emergency and her grandmother's overall condition.

“The ambulance will be here shortly, Grandma.”

“I'll go call Dr. Reynolds and Aunt Gladys,” Stephanie said.

Janelle sat beside her grandmother on the floor, holding her, feeling helpless, trying to be strong. She hoped nothing was broken. Grandma Geri continued to moan. “Dear Lord,” Janelle prayed aloud, “please help my grandmother. Whatever's going on, please get her the help she needs quickly and heal her.”

Daniel and Tiffany appeared at the bedroom door, looking frightened.

“What's wrong with Grandma?” Daniel said.

“I don't know yet, sweetheart. Say a prayer.”

Janelle could hear the ambulance, and then Stephanie opening the door.

Todd entered with Stephanie and the paramedics, who brought a stretcher into the bedroom. Janelle moved out of their way and stood near the door.

“What happened?” Todd asked.

“She said she fell getting out of bed. She can't move.” She paused, watching the paramedics tend to her. “I'm scared, Todd.”

Todd closed his eyes, and Janelle knew he was praying.

“Why don't you let me take the kids to my house,” he said. “That way you and Stephanie can both go to the hospital. I can get Daniel to school.”

He ushered the kids to their room to get what they needed. Janelle and Stephanie watched the paramedics lift Grandma Geri carefully onto the stretcher and move her out. They got into Janelle's car and followed the ambulance, answering a call seconds later from Travis, who'd seen them pass his house. They talked to Libby on the way as well.

At the hospital, Grandma Geri was taken directly to an examination room, leaving the granddaughters to wait. Their time filled with phone calls and texts from family wanting updates, which they didn't have. Janelle had gotten up twice already to ask for one, and at the hour and a half mark was about to ask again when Aunt Gladys arrived.

Worry etched her face. “What have they told you?”

“Nothing,” Janelle said. “I was just about to ask—”

“Janelle?”

“Hi, Dr. Peters,” Janelle said. “This is my Aunt Gladys. I think you've met Stephanie.”

They exchanged greetings and Dr. Peters got down to business. “We've ordered additional tests, but based on my preliminary examination, we're dealing with metastatic bones disease.”

“What exactly does that mean, Doctor?” Aunt Gladys said.

“It means the cancer has spread to her bones, which weakens the skeletal system. In this case it has spread to her spine.” Dr. Peters spoke in a low tone, as others were in the waiting area.

“Wait a minute,” Aunt Gladys said, perplexed. “A little over a week ago the CT scan showed the tumor had shrunk. We thought she was doing better.”

“To the naked eye the tumor appeared to have shrunk.” Dr. Peters looked a little perturbed. “Quite frankly, the radiologist who told you that misread the scan. It's not my practice to give patients CT scan results based on observation only. I like to have the full report with actual measurements that can be compared to the original scan. That's why I was planning to meet with Mrs. Sanders today.” He sighed. “The full report shows the tumor has actually grown.”

The women looked at one another.

“That is simply not acceptable, to get a family's hopes up like that . . .” Aunt Gladys paused, releasing a sigh of frustration. “You said it has spread to her spine. And she couldn't move this morning. Please tell me she's not paralyzed.”

“I'm afraid that is her current condition, yes. It was not totally unexpected. Bone metastases are fairly common in advanced-stage lung cancer.”

“Now that I think about it,” Janelle said, “Grandma complained a couple of times lately about a sharp pain, but she couldn't pinpoint it, and then it would disappear.”

“That's usually one of the first signs,” Dr. Peters said. “You'll be able to visit with her shortly, but we'll obviously be keeping her here as we move forward with additional tests.”

Janelle, Stephanie, and Aunt Gladys went to the cafeteria to grab a bite and make calls. By evening Libby, Todd, and Sara Ann had come. Becca stayed home with the kids.

Most of them had been in Grandma Geri's room for quick visits. Janelle and Libby were in there again now. The nurse had told them to keep it brief. Visiting hours were almost over, and their grandmother needed rest.

Grandma Geri was hooked to monitors, her bed inclined slightly, legs stretched beneath a blanket like normal. Except she couldn't feel them.

Propped against the pillow, her head was turned toward her granddaughters. “Now you two know I don't have much time.”

Libby held her hand. “Grandma, why are you saying that to everyone who comes in here? You're being pessimistic.”

“I'm being
real
istic.” She starting coughing and holding her chest, and took the water Janelle handed her. After a sip, she continued. “I want to get on with that bucket list I started.”

Janelle looked at her. “You want to go shopping again?”

“No, nothing like that,” she said. “I'm talking about the daughter I haven't seen in decades, and the granddaughter I've never seen. I don't want to look down from heaven and see them at my funeral—if they'd even come. I want to see them while I'm alive.”

Janelle glanced at Libby and back to her grandmother. “We left messages for Aunt Gwynn today, and I exchanged texts with Keisha.” She was happy that Keisha responded. Nothing lengthy—just
Thank you for the update
—but a response nonetheless.

“I need you two to pray about this thing,” Grandma Geri said. “Gwynn hasn't called anybody back in who-knows-how-long. Getting her here would take a miracle.”

“I've been praying already—”

“Well, step it up, Jan,” she said. “I don't have long.”

Libby sighed. “Grandma, please.”

The door opened behind them and Travis appeared.

He stayed by the door. “Is this an okay time? I wanted to see my girl before visiting hours ended.”

Grandma Geri's face brightened. “Come on in here, boy.”

There were no more chairs, so Janelle got up. “Go ahead and sit. I've been in and out of here all day.”

Libby gave Janelle the eye as Travis took the seat next to her. Janelle eased out of the room.

How quickly the dynamic had changed. One minute a peaceful family gathering with her grandmother and cousin. The next, a gathering in which she felt jumpy inside and found it hard to focus—all because of a one-person switch.

Libby held her hands in her lap, debating whether to get up herself and leave as the two of them talked.

Travis leaned forward on his elbows, always comfortable in conversation with Grandma Geri. He wasn't focusing on her current state. He had her laughing as he told the latest happenings at the church.

“I'm serious, Grandma Geri. Sister Mason volunteered to make sweet potato pies for pastor's appreciation. Now you know I'm all about some sweet potato pie—”

“Shirley can't cook no sweet potato pies. They never turn out right.”