At the airport check-in, Norah was informed that she had been upgraded to first class. Tom, she thought. Just before boarding her flight, Norah was finally able to reach the hospital and her mother.
“Yes, it was a heart attack—mild, according to the doctor. A warning, he called it.”
“How’s Dad doing?”
Her mother sighed. “You know your father. He didn’t finish shoveling the front walk and now he’s concerned that it will ice over and someone will fall. Eleanor said she would see to it, but now Dad’s all worried that she’ll ask Dan to shovel and he’ll end up in the hospital as well.”
“Tom and Izzy can take care of it when they get there,” Norah said.
There was a beat and then her mother said. “You’re all coming? Together?”
It was impossible not to understand the note of hope in those questions.
“We’re all on our way,” Norah assured her. “Izzy left for California this morning. She and Tom will fly out from there today or tomorrow. I should be there late this afternoon.”
“I’ll tell your father. That should perk him up.”
“Mom? He’s going to be okay, right?”
“He’ll be fine,” her mother assured her, but her tone was too bright, too upbeat. “You just worry about yourself. We’ll see you when you get here.”
She tried Tom’s phone and Izzy’s, but got voice mail in both cases. They must be on their way. The thought gave her enormous comfort as she settled back in the wide seat and closed her eyes, hardly aware that the plane had started to taxi down the runway.
This trip the flight was smooth and mere background noise for the emotional turbulence Norah was feeling. Anxiety was uppermost—the fear that her father’s condition was far more serious than her mother was willing to admit. The sudden panic that she might not make it back to Wisconsin in time to tell him how much she loved him, how much he had meant to her. The uncertainty of what his health might mean for the future.
Then there was work. Stan had suggested she take the remainder of the year off. “Come back fresh after the New Year,” he’d said as he walked her out to her car.
Norah thought about the file folder containing her application that was still lying on her desk. All she needed to do was call Stan or Abby and let them know the folder was there. But she didn’t. What if her father died? What if he was permanently incapacitated? How would he and Mom manage in a house where all the bedrooms and the single bath were upstairs? As an only child she felt enormous responsibility for the well-being of her parents—she just hadn’t thought the need would come so soon.
Underlying everything was an almost suffocating sense of guilt. Guilt that she had chosen to live so far away that her parents rarely had the opportunity to spend time with her or Izzy—their only grandchild. Guilt that there weren’t more grandchildren. Guilt that her marriage had failed and that the combination of the end of her marriage and the fact that she and Tom had not had more children and that she had willingly—blithely—continued to reside halfway across the country—for what? Warm weather?
Her parents had never been anything but thrilled for her happiness and concerned for her heartaches. Even though she realized that in the rubble of her own dreams for the future lay their dreams for her and for their own golden years when their friends were intricately involved in the lives of their adult children and grandchildren.
You can always come home.
From the time Norah had been a small child and all through college and her adult years, that had been her mother’s message to her. Never said in a whining wishful tone, but rather offered as a haven—an assurance that whatever happened in her life there was this one place where she would be loved unconditionally.
“Ms. Wallace?”
Norah blinked up at the flight attendant.
“I have a message for you.” He handed her a folded piece of paper. “I—is there anything I can get for you?”
The young man’s expression was sympathetic.
“No, thank you,” Norah whispered as she fingered the note, her heart in her throat. Judging by the steward’s expression and the unusual delivery of a message in flight, her father must have taken a turn for the worse, but Mom would never handle things this way. Mom wouldn’t begin to know how to contact her in midair. She opened the note and read the contents twice, then looked up at the steward.
“I don’t understand,” she said, handing him the note.
The young man took the empty seat next to her. “Arrangements have been made for you to take a private charter from O’Hare to Madison, Wisconsin,” he read, then looked over at her. “I understand you are traveling for a family emergency?”
Norah nodded.
“Apparently someone has arranged to make sure you get there as soon as possible. We’re approaching Chicago now. As soon as we land a skycap will be waiting with a cart to take you to the private flight.” He stood up and handed her back the note. “I hope everything works out.”
“Thank you,” Norah murmured.
They landed twenty minutes later, but it took another twenty to reach the gate. Norah was first off the plane once the cabin door opened.
“Ms. Wallace?”
“Yes.” Her voice shook and her legs suddenly felt like rubber.
“Hop in,” the heavyset woman driver invited, and practically before Norah’s feet cleared the floor, they were off. The driver wove in and out of throngs of travelers, beeping her horn and calling out cheerfully, “Stand back. Woman driver on the loose,” to the delight and surprise of bored or harried passengers she passed along the way.
“Hang on, sweetie,” she said as she made a sharp turn down a narrow passageway, threaded her way through what looked like a warehouse of baggage and out onto the tarmac. “Shortcut,” she yelled over the sudden whipping wind. “You warm enough?”
Norah nodded and hung on to the front panel of the golf cart.
“Those your folks there?” The driver nodded toward a small private jet where miraculously Izzy and Tom were waiting—Izzy waving her arms as if directing the cart into a landing.
“Yes,” Norah yelled back, her heart suddenly lighter. “Those are my folks.”
“Wow, you landed yourself a major hottie, didn’t you, girl?” The woman said as she whipped the cart to a halt and eyed Tom’s approach.
Norah couldn’t help it. She smiled even as tears glistened on her lashes.
“Ah, sweetie, it’s all going to be okay,” the woman assured her and Norah suddenly realized that the woman’s act had been for her benefit to take her mind off whatever trouble she was flying in to face.
“Thank you,” she said softly and squeezed the driver’s gloved hand.
“This it?” Tom asked as he ran over to the cart and took her small duffel from her. He handed the driver a generous tip.
“Good looking and a good tipper,” the woman said to Norah. “This one’s a keeper,” she advised as she waved and drove off.
Tom wrapped one arm around Norah’s shoulders as if protecting her from the elements as he guided her toward the plane. “Get on board, Bella,” he called.
As soon as Norah boarded, Isabella burst into tears.
“Oh, Izzy, it’s going to be okay. I talked to Grandma and Papa’s going to be okay. She says seeing you will be the best possible medicine.”
Gently she fastened Izzy’s seat belt and then her own as Tom gave final instructions to the pilot and then settled into the seat across from them. As the plane’s twin engines revved and the pilot began the slow taxi toward the runway, Tom reached across the narrow aisle and took Norah’s hand.
As soon as they landed in Madison, Tom led Norah and Isabella to the car he’d hired. It was waiting on the tarmac and Norah was grateful for Tom’s thoughtfulness in getting them to the hospital as quickly as possible. This time instead of riding up front with the driver as he had in Denver when Bella was sick, he got into the backseat. He stretched one arm along the back of the seat so that Bella could rest her head against his shoulder and he could gently stroke Norah’s hair with his fingers.
“What if Papa dies?” Bella murmured.
“Papa is not going to die—not yet,” Tom said, but until they knew the full seriousness of Earle’s condition, he was unwilling to make promises.
He glanced over at Norah. She was staring out the window, but he suspected she was not seeing any of the passing scenery as the driver headed for the medical complex on the campus of the University of Wisconsin. “They’re the best, Norah,” he said softly. “They’ve got the best specialists—the best trauma teams. He’s in good hands.”
Norah nodded but did not look away from the window. She was dry-eyed now, her face looking as if she had aged several years over the hours since she’d received the news. Tom was pretty sure that he knew what she was thinking, for they had often discussed how fortunate they were—and Bella was—that both sets of parents were in good health. Lively seniors who added a generational depth to Bella’s life that she might have missed by not having siblings.
The driver turned onto the drive to the hospital entrance.
“Norah?” Tom said quietly and this time she turned to look at him. But her eyes were devoid of anything more than exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” he said and understood that under the circumstances she would take the words as comfort for her father’s illness. Some day he would find a way to tell her that he was taking steps toward realizing what his pride had contributed to the downfall of their marriage.
A single tear coursed its way down Norah’s left cheek. Tom reached over and wiped it away with his thumb.
The receptionist directed them to the cardiac intensive care unit waiting room. Norah hurried down the hall barely aware that Isabella was following reluctantly and that Tom had also held back to reassure their daughter. In this moment Norah was a daughter—an only child—who needed her own mother to calm her fears.
Tom’s mother, Eleanor, was the only person in the waiting room other than a volunteer sitting at the desk and reading the newspaper. The minute Norah entered the room Eleanor was on her feet, coming forward, her arms outstretched. Norah did not hesitate to step into the circle of that embrace.
“Where’s Mom?” she asked.
“She’s in with Earle. The doctor’s there now and—”
“I want to hear what he has to say,” Norah said, breaking free and heading for the double doors that separated the patient unit from the waiting room. The volunteer made a move as if to stop her, but Eleanor interceded. “This is Mr. Jenkins’s daughter,” she explained even as she touched the large button on the wall that sent the double doors flying open with a whoosh. “Second room on the left,” she told Norah.
Several nurses and a couple of doctors glanced up at the sound of the doors opening, but all but one returned to work. “May I help you?” the woman in a green smock asked.
“My father,” Norah said and nodded toward the second sliding-glass door on the left where the curtains were pulled closed. “I—”
“Ah, you must be Norah,” the woman replied. “Your parents have been expecting you. Doctor is in with them now—he just arrived, so you haven’t missed much.” She nodded toward the partially open door.
“Thank you,” Norah said.
The news was good.
“You’ve dodged a bullet this time, young man,” the doctor, who looked to be no more than thirty years old, said as he studied the chart and did not look at either of Norah’s parents.
Norah saw her father frown and knew exactly what was coming. First he glanced around the room as if trying to figure out who the doctor meant. Then his eyes widened and he pointed to himself. “Are you talking to me?” It was his best De Niro impression and Norah felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.
The doctor looked up, startled.
“Because my name is either Earle or Mr. Jenkins—take your pick. If we ever become really good friends I might even let you call me ‘Early,’ but that’s unlikely. I am seventy-two years old—not young—old. Do we understand each other, young man?”
“Yes, sir,” the doctor replied, all bravado gone.
“So, I’ve dodged a bullet,” Earle prompted. “Define ‘dodge.’”
The doctor put down the chart and moved closer to the bed. He positioned himself so that he included Norah and her mother in the conversation. In clear lay terms, he gave them a detailed diagnosis and then discussed changes and additions to Earle’s diet and medications. He suggested that Norah’s parents start walking daily or if that was impossible because of weather, then get a treadmill or exercise bike.
“We have one of each,” Norah’s mother told him. “In the basement.”
“They make dandy clothes lines,” Earle joked.
The doctor smiled—a real smile and Norah could not help noticing that he was giving no indication that he needed to get this over with and move on to other patients. “You’ll be moved to our cardiac care unit this afternoon,” he said. “We’ll leave the monitor in place, so don’t go trying any marathons, okay? But walks up and down the halls every few hours would be good. We’ll see how you do for the next twenty-four hours and then talk about getting you out of here.”
Norah’s father offered the man a handshake. “Thanks, doc. Really. Thanks for everything.”
The doctor returned the handshake and laughed. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily, sir. I’ll be around this evening to check on you, okay?”
He nodded to both Norah and her mother and left the room. Norah could hear him repeating his orders to the nurse outside.
The minute the doctor was gone her father stretched out his arms to her. His eyes were misty but his embrace was strong. “How’s my girl?” he said.
“Better now that I’m here,” Norah admitted.
“Isabella off to Hawaii?” Earle asked.
“She’s out in the waiting room—with Tom.” Norah did not miss the look that passed between her parents—a look she well knew was filled with hope that this was a positive sign.
“Izzy had already left for California when Eleanor called Norah,” Irene explained.
“Then Tom called,” Norah added, “and—well, you know Tom. He practically hired Air Force One to get us here.” Her voice trailed off as she realized she’d delivered this last not with her usual irritation at Tom’s ability to buy whatever he needed, but rather appreciation for the fact that he was able to get her here in such good time.
“Do I get to see them or is Doctor Young Man still restricting my visitors?”
“You know the rules, Earle,” Norah’s mother said. “Only two visitors at a time—at least in this unit. Norah and I will step out so Izzy and Tom can come see you.”
“Afraid that’ll have to wait,” the nurse announced. “Mr. Jenkins is going for some tests and then on to his new digs. You and the rest of the family can meet him up on the fourth floor in room—” She consulted a chart and gave them the room number all the while moving them out the door to make room for the orderlies who had come to transfer Earle.
In the waiting room they filled Eleanor in on the good news. “Where’s Isabella?” Norah’s mom asked, glancing around.
“She and Tom took a little walk,” Eleanor said, glancing at Norah. “Isabella became quite upset. She was crying and Tom was having trouble consoling her. I think he was taking her in the direction of the coffee shop.”
Norah looked at her mother. “You should get something to eat as well.”
“Don’t worry about me. Eleanor and I will get something. You go find Izzy and meet us in Dad’s new room.”
Tom and Izzy weren’t in the coffee shop near the lobby. Nor were they in the cafeteria on the lower level. Spotting the volunteer she had seen in the waiting room, Norah stopped him and asked if he’d seen her daughter.
“You might try the chapel,” he suggested. “It’s just down the hall from the waiting room. Your little girl was pretty upset and that’s a good quiet place to go.”
“Thank you.” Norah eased open the door to the chapel and heard Tom’s low voice. He and Izzy were seated in the front row of chairs. Izzy had her face buried in her hands and was shaking her head vehemently from side to side as Tom tried to reason with her.
“Hey,” Norah said as she slid into the seat on the other side of her and looked at Tom for answers. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, Mom,” Izzy wailed, throwing herself into Norah’s arms. “It’s all my fault—Papa’s heart attack. It’s my fault.”
“Shh,” Norah soothed.
“I tried to convince her,” Tom said, his expression helpless and forlorn at his inability to handle this crisis. “I pointed out that she was miles away and had nothing at all to do with—”
This set off a fresh outburst of tears and Norah—relieved by the news that her father would be all right—suppressed a smile. “She’s thirteen,” she murmured to Tom. “Reason and logic are not yet part of her repertoire.”
“I prayed,” Izzy gulped out the words. “I prayed that God would do something that would get us all back together at least for the holidays. I prayed so hard—constantly.”
“And you think God made Papa have a heart attack just so we would all be together?”
Isabella nodded and burrowed deeper into Norah’s embrace. Tom looked as if he had just heard news beyond comprehension. “But, honey—” he said to Isabella as he rubbed her back.
Norah warned him with a look then started to speak quietly to Isabella. “Well, here’s what I came to tell you. Papa is going to be just fine. The doctor is letting him move to a regular room as we speak and then if everything goes okay with the new medicine the doctor is giving him, he’ll be able to go home maybe as soon as day after tomorrow.”
Izzy grew still and her sobs dwindled to the occasional shuddering intake of breath. She sat up and looked at Norah. “Really?”
“Really. So you see, darling, everything is going to be all right. Your Papa will be home in a few days and we can help Grandma start getting everything set up for Christmas and—”
“We’re staying for Christmas?” Izzy asked, looking from Norah to Tom and back again. “All of us?”
“And New Year’s,” Tom said, then he glanced at Norah. “If that’s okay.”
“Works for me,” Norah said, ignoring the sudden increase in the rhythm of her heartbeat. After all, Tom would say anything right now to calm his daughter. “Of course, I wasn’t on my way to Hawaii and the beaches full of cute boys.”
Isabella smiled. “There are a couple of cute boys here,” she said. “I met them last time I visited—at the church picnic, remember?”
At the church picnic, Norah thought. Where Tom and I met when I was Izzy’s age.
“Can I see Papa now?”
“In a little while, once he gets back from some tests and settled in his new room. But both your grandmothers are in the coffee shop having lunch and I’m sure they would love to have you join them.”
“Us join them,” Isabella corrected. She stood up and faced the small altar. “You know what I was thinking?”
Tom stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Daddy! This is serious.”
“Okay, what?”
“I was thinking that this is the second time we’ve all ended up in some strange chapel—not our own church, but just this little place set aside for people in pain to work things out.”
“God is everywhere,” Norah said softly as she stepped to Izzy’s side and took her hand.
“Exactly,” Isabella replied, turning to gaze up at her parents. “Can we have a moment of silent prayer to thank God for taking care of Papa?”
“Sure, sweetie,” Tom said.
“And feel free to thank Him for other stuff—you know, like us all being together for the holidays,” Isabella suggested before bowing her own head.
Norah could not meet Tom’s gaze over Izzy’s bowed head, so she lowered her eyes and prayed.
Thank You, God, for caring for Dad. I know there will come a day when he and Mom won’t be here, but not today—not this time. And, God, thank You for bringing Tom and me together again, but I am so worried that Isabella is going to be hurt. Please help her to see that being together as a family for the holidays is not the same as being back together. Please help her find ways to accept that and for us to move forward.
“Amen,” Isabella said aloud, then grinned up at her parents. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
Norah’s dad was an instant hit with the staff on the fourth floor. His room quickly became a gathering place for relieved friends and neighbors and Tom found himself observing the scene from a spot near the door. He watched Irene fuss over Earle and Earle lap up the attention at the same time he was chastising her to, “Stop hovering. That’s what they pay those folks in uniform to do.”
He saw the easy camaraderie between his parents and Norah’s—the kind of intimacy that comes with having shared so many of life’s adventures—first home, raising children, career triumphs and woes, traveling together and more. Two indestructible marriages made all the stronger because of the friendship between the couples.
His dad was relating a fishing story—one where Earle was the hero, having banished a snake sleeping under one of the seats of the boat once the friends had left shore and had nowhere to run. Tom watched his mother’s face, knowing she must have heard this story a hundred times. But her expression showed no irritation at the repetition. Instead she was finishing his sentences, laughing with him. Tom guessed that she was admiring his father’s determination to remind them all of other times, better times—times that they could all hope would come again and produce new stories to tell.
He watched Irene and Earle and his parents for several minutes. This was the model he and Norah had grown up with. This was what they had believed they would have. This was what had seemed to come so easily to their parents—and so hard for them.
He glanced over at Norah. She was laughing at the story, finding comfort in it. Some of the tension had gone out of her face and shoulders. She had one hand on the raised head of her father’s bed. From time to time her eyes would flick over to the monitor, checking the graph and numbers there, reassuring herself that he was past the crisis. The way the afternoon sun fell across her cheekbones made her look young and vulnerable and he wanted more than anything to go to her, wrap his arms around her and assure her that it would all be okay.
Norah looked up then and her eyes met his. She seemed surprised to find him watching her and ducked her head in that shy girlish way that had always been her trademark. They had loved each other so deeply—like younger versions of their parents.
It wasn’t the first time he’d thought about how it might be if they were to get back together. Ever since he’d seen them in Denver his thoughts had repeatedly drifted toward that fantasy. For surely that’s all it was—all it could ever be after all this time.
Tom shook himself back to reality. The reality was that he had a law practice—one that employed several other people. Norah had her work—work that she was determined could make a real difference for others. She lived in Arizona. He lived in California. Normal, Wisconsin, was the past and no longer home for either of them. Ever pragmatic, Tom reminded himself that he was seeing everything through tinted glasses—lenses that filtered in the magic of the holidays plus the timely reminder that their parents—and they—were not getting any younger and clocks were ticking for all of them.
He looked down and saw that Norah had moved next to him. “Should we go back?” Norah was asking and at first Tom thought she might have read his mind. She had once been able to do that.
“Back?” Could they? Was that even advisable?
“To the house. Drop off our luggage and pick up some things that Mom needs?” She studied him and frowned. “Are you feeling all right, Tom?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He moved a step away to avoid her hand raised to check his temperature as if he were Isabella. “Dad? Can we use the car?”
Both sets of parents burst out laughing.
“Have her home by ten,” Earle instructed sternly, setting off yet another round of laughter among the four friends.
“I don’t get it,” Isabella said, then the light dawned. “Oh, like when they were dating?”
Norah gathered her jacket and purse. She looked up at Tom. “Ready?”
“It’s a date,” he replied, grinning mischievously.
“Cute.”