My Lucky Stars (28 page)

Tara placed her hands on the counter and leaned over it, sobbing silently. She’d never felt more alone or afraid in her life. Never had she needed Jane more.

The computer in the family room chimed, and Tara looked at the clock, realizing suddenly what the noise meant. Peter was calling.

Oh no.
How was it that she’d all but forgotten him today? She’d explained Jane’s situation to the hospital staff and somehow hoped they would take care of contacting Peter, though she’d known that wasn’t really the case.
And now I’ll have to tell him—the person who loves and needs Jane even more than I do.
Wiping her eyes, Tara hurried to the computer and logged on to Skype.

Peter’s face appeared a moment later. He was wearing his army fatigues and smiling—until he saw Tara’s face instead of Jane’s. He spoke first.

“What’s wrong?”

Tara didn’t know where to begin. She opened her mouth twice before a rush of words finally came out. “Jane fell, and her water broke, and the placenta tore away.” She knew she was telling it all wrong. She should have started elsewhere—with the babies. “Ella and Easton are doing well. They’re early, of course, and it was close at the beginning, and it’s too early to know if—”
I shouldn’t tell him about that now.
Tara searched for the most encouraging thing she could say. “Jane had been taking that medicine for the babies’ lungs, so they’re doing pretty good . . . all things considered.”

“How is Jane?” Peter’s face had crumpled from the handsome, confident man Tara knew to someone completely terrified.

“Pretty bad.” Fresh tears fell from Tara’s eyes, and she brought a hand to her mouth, trying to contain her sobs. “But she’s got the best doctors. She’s had two transfusions, and—and she had to have surgery.” Tara doubted any of that mattered to Peter. Like her, what he wanted to hear was that Jane would be okay.
She has to be
, Tara thought for the hundredth time today. This was the twenty-first century. Women didn’t die from childbirth—

Very often.
The doctor’s chilling words came back to her. Jane had an unusual set of circumstances working against her. She’d been carrying twins. It was her first pregnancy. She was thirty-five. Preterm labor had been threatening for weeks. All things adding up to an unthinkable chain of events that started with a fall, her water breaking, and the placenta tearing away from the uterine wall.

Leading to severe hemorrhaging, a coma, and possible death.
Tara couldn’t bring herself to repeat those awful words to Peter.

But she wiped her eyes, took a deep breath, and told him the facts as simply and delicately as possible. By the time she’d finished, his eyes were watering, his brow creased, and the pain lining his face made it look like he had aged ten years.

“How is Maddie taking all of this?” Peter asked after he had taken a couple of minutes to compose himself.

Tara smiled through her tears. “Your daughter is amazing. She has the faith—”

“Of a little child,” Peter finished, nodding his head as if he knew exactly what Tara was talking about.

“She wanted you to come home and bless Jane and the babies,” Tara said. “When I told her Brother Sheffield had already done that, she was very relieved.”

“I’ll get the next flight possible.” Peter’s voice was gruff again.

“In two weeks?” Tara asked. She was pretty certain Jane had said that, regardless of circumstances back home, Peter had to stay to complete his assignment.

“Tomorrow or the next day,” he said. “I’m not here to fly missions.” He held up his scarred hand, reminding Tara of the many surgeries he’d had to fix it after a crash in the Iraqi desert several years earlier. “My reflexes aren’t quick enough anymore. I’ve been here instructing, and they can all do without me now.”

“Let me know when your flight comes in,” Tara said.

Peter shook his head. “I’ll get someone else to pick me up. You’ve got enough to do. Just take care of Maddie—and Jane.”

“I will.” Tara felt tears building again and could see that Peter was in much the same state. They ended the call, and once more, she was left alone in the dark house.

For several minutes she sat, numb and unmoving, staring at the blank screen of the computer. Jane’s note lay beside it on the desk, and Tara picked up the paper again, doing her best to smooth out the earlier wrinkles.

You know where to go for real help.

Jane’s words seemed to jump off the page at her.
Jane wasn’t referring to herself. She meant for me to pray. How many times today have I
already
prayed?

For Jane.

Of course, for Jane.
Tara scoffed at her own thought. Jane was the one who needed the help, who needed a miracle.

As do you.

Tara froze, her fingers still covering the paper. Beneath her blouse, she felt her heartbeat escalate. The voice she’d just heard wasn’t hers.

You know where to go for real help. I’m here. I’m listening.

You are?
Desperate to know if this was only her overtired imagination, Tara practically slid from the chair then crawled over to the couch, where she buried her head in her arms.

“Father?” she spoke out loud, not caring if she sounded ridiculous—not feeling ridiculous but desperate for the answers she sought. “I need Thee,” she pled. “I believe in Thee. Please, please bless me with Thy Spirit . . .”

Thirty-Three

Tara felt a nudge, and the next thing she knew, Maddie was sneaking beneath her arm—still folded across the couch.

Sunlight streamed through the patio doors, warming the room and making everything seem far better than it had been the previous day. Tara moved her head and realized she’d been kneeling at the sofa all night.
Or what was left of it after Peter’s call.

“Tara?” Maddie laid her head sideways on the couch and looked into Tara’s eyes, her own features watchful with childish concern. “Are you still crying?”

Tara blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision and come fully awake. She sat up straight and then enfolded Maddie in her arms.

“Are you still sad?” Maddie asked.

“Not anymore.” Tara considered the question, and her answer so readily given. She
didn’t
feel sad. The oppressive weight of yesterday—of
all
of her yesterdays—had lifted. In its place there was a new feeling inside, wrapping her in comfort and love and
peace.

“I’m not sad, either,” Maddie said. “Can we have waffles for breakfast? We could bring some to Mommy at the hospital.”

Jane.
Worry for her rushed to the front of Tara’s mind, yet even that wasn’t enough to overcome the peace and . . . lightness . . . enveloping her. Tara was almost afraid to move, afraid that if she got up and started her day, the feeling would vanish.

She chose her words carefully. “I don’t know if your mom is well enough to eat waffles this morning.”
But she
is
well.

All
is well.

Tara didn’t know how she knew this, but she did. She hugged Maddie briefly then got up on stiff legs, exercising her faith that the goodness she felt wouldn’t disappear but would follow her to the kitchen.

“I’ll call the hospital and ask.” Tara grabbed her cell phone from her purse and called the direct number she’d added yesterday. The nurse who answered was the same one who’d been on duty when Tara had left around one in the morning.

The news wasn’t as heartening as Tara had hoped. There was little change in Jane’s condition, though she was stable now. Her bleeding had finally stopped.

She just needs to wake up
, Tara thought, then she explained the situation to Maddie exactly that way.

“Your mom is really tired. Having those babies wore her out, so she’s going to sleep today.” As she spoke the words, Tara thought they really did make sense. She could almost believe them herself. She hesitated, waiting to see Maddie’s reaction to hearing that she couldn’t see her mom.

“O-kay,” Maddie said after a few seconds. “Can we draw her a picture? And make cupcakes for Ella and Easton?”

Tara nearly laughed. “Yes. Absolutely.”
To be like a child
echoed through her mind again. She felt almost like a child this morning—free, somehow, from the cares of the world, though she knew they were still there.

Maddie was already hauling out the waffle iron and the cupcake tins.

“One thing at a time,” Tara said, taking the heavy iron from her and putting it on the counter. “First we need to—”

“Pray,” Maddie said.

“You’re right.” Tara stared at her across the counter, remembering a day, not so many weeks ago, when she’d looked across that same counter and told Maddie that she didn’t pray.

“We need to thank Heavenly Father for the miracle,” Maddie said.

Tara nodded then smiled through her sudden tears. “We need to thank Him for a few of them.”

Thirty-Four

Maddie carried the shoe box carefully across the patio. “I’m going to miss you, Fran.”

I won’t
, Tara thought, feeling liberated at the possibility of not having a bird to feed almost around the clock. She hoped Jane was right, and it really was ready to be on its own. Though she
was
glad it had survived this long and guessed it was probably Maddie’s tender heart and care that had seen the creature through.

“You saved Fran’s life.” Tara knelt beside Maddie at the edge of the patio.
Kind of like your mom saved mine.
Telltale moisture formed in Tara’s eyes. For the past week and a half, it seemed she’d done nothing but cry.

“Good-bye, Fran.” Maddie’s own voice sounded teary as she lifted the bird from the box. “Fly and be happy,” Maddie whispered. She uncovered the bird and held her palms flat and steady.

Fran hesitated a half second then spread her wings and took off, soaring into the air, flying across the yard to the tree where her life had begun.

Maddie waved, and a smile lit her face. “She flew!”

“Yes, she did.” Tara hugged Maddie a little tighter. A new feeling,
another
new feeling—one that had been building for the past several weeks—seemed to burst from her chest. Sudden understanding filled her mind, accompanied by one simple word.

Joy.

* * *

“Mommy’s coming home today. Mommy’s coming home.” Maddie skipped ahead of Tara, toward the hospital entrance. Peter had left earlier to take care of paperwork at the hospital and to help Jane dress the twins, who were also being released. Tara had promised to bring Maddie so she could be part of their homecoming.

Tara had to hurry to keep up with Maddie as she skipped toward Jane’s room. After having her mother gone for nearly two weeks, the little girl was more than ready to have her home again. Tara was eager for Jane to return too, though she knew that the magical time they’d shared together the past few months was over. Peter was home, and Jane—and her time—belonged to him and their children.

Lingering purposely behind, Tara watched Maddie run into her mother’s hospital room. Tara readied the video camera for the grand exit then stole forward and peeked inside, hesitant to intrude yet also wanting to witness the reunion. Jane sat on the bed with Maddie beside her. Each of Jane’s arms held a baby. Peter stood behind them, his hand beneath Maddie’s arm, supporting little Ella’s head.

Something that she could only guess was longing hit Tara hard as she turned on the camera and tried to focus the lens. The feeling surprised her. She
didn’t
want what Jane had. The thought of being responsible for two babies was terrifying. Yet she
did
want what Jane had. She wanted someone who loved her, the way Peter loved Jane, and she wanted someone
to
love. She’d learned that thinking of others before herself,
serving
them, wasn’t such a bad thing after all. When it came down to it, she had to admit . . .

I’m really going to miss that kid.

Tara knew she needed to find something to fill her life. Maddie was going to leave a pretty big void.

Jane caught sight of Tara at the door and waved her in. Tara paused the camera and entered the room.

“I hear Fran made it.” Jane’s smile was triumphant.

“She flew beautifully,” Tara confirmed.

“Success all around, or so I hear,” Jane said, handing Easton off to Peter. “Congratulations on the new business.”

“Well, it’s only a start,” Tara said. “But I am officially licensed and legal now.” After selling her old wardrobe on eBay last month, and making quite a bit of money, she’d realized what potential there was in the used clothing market—especially designer labels that many people liked and were familiar with but couldn’t necessarily afford to buy in this economy.

She’d done some research, placed a couple of ads, and before she’d even fully developed the idea, she had clients on both ends, some wanting her to sell their items, others looking to purchase specific things. She’d become a broker again, this time of used clothing, purses, shoes, and the like. The potential was endless. Already she was thinking about other markets she could expand to. And to be fair, she had to admit that the idea had begun with a trip to Deseret Industries in Utah.

The correct term is
secondhand, Ben had first informed her. Tara couldn’t help but grin as she remembered that shopping trip and the ill-fated jeans.

“What are you thinking about?” Jane asked.

“How Ben would laugh if he knew I now sell secondhand clothing for a living.”

“You should tell him,” Jane said. She turned sideways on the bed so Peter could put on her shoes. He knelt in front of her and carefully slipped each foot into a sandal.

In just watching that simple act, Tara felt her eyes start to moisten again.

“Look, I have ankles again.” Jane raised a foot and pointed her toe.

“You look great,” Tara said. And Jane did. After emerging from a coma three days after she’d given birth to the twins, she had surprised everyone by how well she seemed to feel, both mentally and physically. Only a few setbacks with recovering from her hysterectomy had kept her in the hospital this long.