FIGURING OUT WHO WOULD DRIVE, who would ride with whom, and when, got more complicated after Grandma Dodie’s four sons tried to whisk her away. She tried shouting kitchen commands as her sons held her coat for her, but then stopped. “You women know what to do, don’t you?”
“We do,” Deb said. “Go be with him.”
“You’ll come as soon as you can?”
“We’ll all come, Mom,” Allie added.
The impact of Allie’s words hit them when Courtney started to cry. She held a baby in each arm. She wasn’t going anywhere. And an emergency room waiting room was no place for five girls fourteen and under. Or three, twelve and under.
Katie was the outsider. Her mind swirled with the complication of tending two small infants and five little girls by herself. But if that’s what it took so the older grandchildren and the Binder women could be there for Grandma Dodie and Grandpa Wilson, that’s what she’d do.
“Courtney, I don’t know if you’d trust me with your little ones, but I can stay here so you can go. And if Aurora and Twilight and Sunburst and Madeline and MacKenzie”—had she’d remembered them all?—“stay here in the house, I think I can hold things together so the rest of you can be where you need to be.”
Micah looked up from the bin in which he was digging for cell phones. She caught the look that told her he’d rather she was with him at the hospital. She mouthed, “Me too.”
“Mom, is this yours?” He held up a phone in a basic black case. “Under the circumstances, I think the moratorium on technology is null and void. We’re going to need these phones to communicate.”
“Agreed,” Deb said. “Chargers?”
“That other bin. Labeled this year.”
“Smart, son. Thanks.”
“Must have been someone else’s idea.” He glanced at Katie. “We were the last to arrive.”
Even in the distress of the moment, Katie’s thoughts reverted to that awkwardest of moments. She’d said no.
Brogan hobbled in from outside, pain tattooed across his face.
“What happened to you?” The question came from all corners.
“Juggling incident,” he said. “No little girls were injured in the performance of that trick. Ooh!” He hobbled to the nearest chair. “How’s Grandpa Wilson?”
“We don’t know anything more,” Katie said. “I hoped it would be something simple.”
Courtney handed Evan and Gabe to two of the nearest Binder women and rushed to her husband.
“It’s okay, Courtney. I just need to put my foot up for a while. Don’t worry about me, please.”
She removed his shoe and sock. “Oh, Brogan! That looks nasty. Katie? Help?”
Katie slipped from child-care thinking back into medical mode and assessed Brogan’s injury.
“The girls thought it was part of the act,” he said. “There’s a rubber ball under the pool table that now has a contract out on its life. Oh. I’m sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“Can you put any weight on it?” Katie asked as she felt for bones where they shouldn’t be and evaluated the swelling. Two ankles in two days? Really? It wasn’t appropriate or within privacy laws to follow up on the woman who’d slipped in front of LoLo’s. But she couldn’t help wondering. And Grandpa Wilson! Too much, Lord. Too much.
“I can put a little weight on it.” The creases between Brogan’s eyes deepened.
“That’s a good sign.” Katie patted his knee as she would if he were a four-year-old in need of comfort.
“Ow!”
“Sorry.” She waited for him to tell her he was only kidding, but he didn’t. He wasn’t. “What’s up with your knee, Brogan?”
“Kind of twisted it, too, as I fell.”
If he called himself Anna, Katie was going to scream.
Courtney started to cry again. “Don’t mind me,” she said, fanning her face with her hand. “Postpartum hormones.”
“Honey, we adopted.”
“I’m still entitled!” she said, taking the tissue Micah handed her.
Why was it that crises rarely showed up single? They always seemed to have a mate. Brogan’s problems were nowhere near as serious as Grandpa Wilson’s, but still needed attention. His right knee looked considerably larger than his left. She palpated gently this time. Lots of swelling. “Do you have any sweatpants or pajama bottoms you could wear for now? You’re going to want to get out of those jeans before your knee won’t let you.”
“I’ll get them,” Courtney said, sniffing.
“Some of us really should get to the hospital.” Allie rubbed her hands as if she’d just applied lotion. “I’m going to ask my girls to stay here and help out. Ellie hates hospitals anyway. Loves her grandpa. Hates hospitals.” She grabbed her phone and Ellie’s. “I’ll run out and tell the girls what’s happening while the rest of you decide who’ll ride with me.”
She got as far as the kitchen and groaned. “We have all this food to take care of.”
“I’ll get started on that,” Rhonda said. She handed Gabe to Deb, who now had both of her grandsons in her arms and a heart likely divided by joy and pain.
“Micah, I think somebody is going to have to take Brogan to the emergency room. I won’t feel comfortable about this knee and ankle until they get checked out. Judging by your facial expression, Brogan, I’d guess your pain level is creeping higher.”
“I’ll wait until we know what’s happening with Grandpa Wilson. We don’t need another layer of complication right now.” Brogan groaned as he adjusted his position in the recliner.
Katie pulled at the elastic holding her hair on top of her head. It didn’t help her think more clearly. “If your knee gets any worse, won’t that make things even more complicated? What if Micah—the ‘muscles’ to get you in and out of the car—and Courtney both drove you to the ER? Then Micah can stay with Grandma Dodie and the uncles, and Courtney can drive you back home. She’ll get you settled here with the pain meds I’m pretty confident you’re going to need, and then she can go back to the hospital. I’ll hold down the fort here with the help of Allie’s girls.”
Courtney returned with flannel pajama bottoms in Christmas red with white faux-ermine on the leg hems.
“Ho, ho, ho, brother-in-law.” Micah held his belly.
“We thought the attire would be just between us,” Brogan said, wincing. “Do I have to wear those to see the doctor?”
“Your only choice, husband. Everything else we traveled with is in the laundry bag. Tough it out. You picked them.”
Somebody was going to have to scream to let off steam over the absurdity of it all. Evan volunteered.
Rhonda called from the kitchen, the sound a curious mix of organic drill sergeant. “Courtney, Katie, come here.”
Courtney tossed the Santa Claus pajamas to Micah and said, “Help the poor man while I see what Rhonda wants. Mom, give me Evan.”
Katie and Courtney showed up in the kitchen doorway as ordered, Evan content on his mom’s shoulder.
“Here’s the deal. Courtney, as a mom, you’ll find yourself in pickles like this for the rest of your life. Torn between the needs of your children, your husband, and some other family member or cause. Who needs you the most right now?”
Courtney leaned her head against the dark-haired child. “My boys.”
“Decision made. You’ll stay here with your boys. Katie, you and Micah take Brogan in. Allie and Deb and I will go make sure Grandma Dodie knows we’re here for her. We’ll talk to Grandpa if we can. Then we’ll take shifts coming back here to help out if they keep Grandpa overnight.”
Katie didn’t want to voice her opinion about how sure she was he would either be there in the hospital overnight or somewhere other than the cottage.
“Your husband will be well cared for,” Rhonda said. “Grandma Dodie already knows you have two little ones who went from abandoned to well-loved when you stepped in. Taking you away from them now isn’t going to help their transition.”
“You’re right. An easier choice, when you put it that way.”
Rhonda set the timer on the oven. “When that timer goes off, whoever is here, take those turkeys out of the oven. One of us will deal with them when they’ve cooled off. I put the potatoes in the refrigerator. Nothing else is critical. Let’s get this plan implemented.”
She reached into the freezer and pulled out two bags of frozen peas. Katie knew what to do with them. She laid one on Brogan’s red flannel knee and another on his white fluffy ermine ankle.
Katie grabbed her own cell phone and charger, her coat, gloves, and “Katie” hat, and helped Brogan into his jacket while Micah brought the rental car to the front of the house. They’d take Brogan across the same path Grandpa Wilson had traveled minutes earlier.
THE PLAN WASN’T as convoluted for Micah and Katie once they arrived at the hospital emergency room. Grandpa Wilson was still being evaluated. Same department. Different rooms. Same family waiting area.
It was Brogan who won the race for a diagnosis—torn meniscus in his knee and sprained ankle. He was given crutches, higher-tech ice packs, a prescription for some pain medicine, and a firm recommendation that he see an orthopedic surgeon within the next week, if not sooner. And he was wished a merry Christmas by some of the staff, happy holidays by others, and was wheeled out of the exam room sporting a red and faux-ermine Santa hat to match his pajama bottoms.
Most of the Binder family met him in the hall outside the waiting area with a cocktail of sympathy swirled with ribbing. The pain medicine he’d been given in the exam room had started to kick in, which mellowed his response.
Micah took Katie by the arm. “I don’t know how you’d be able to get him into the house by yourself. Crutches on snow aren’t easy to manage. I’ll need to take him home. Grandma asked specifically for you to stay. She wants you to be her medical interpreter.”
Silas stepped in. “Let me take him.” His furrowed brow seemed to record the anxiety everyone bore. “I didn’t talk Madeline and Mackenzie through this like I should have. It’s tough enough for me. Lynda spent way too much time in places like this. I owe it to my girls to be there for them right now. I’ll be back if things change with Dad, or . . .”
“Brother, you go,” Tim said. He gave Silas a man-hug. “We’ll keep updating. God bless you, Silas. Proud to be your brother.”
With Brogan loaded into the back of the van, much more comfortable for him than the rental car, the family in the waiting area settled into waiting again.
Uncharacteristically, Uncle Paul sat with his elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Allie rubbed his back and leaned against his arm.
Grandma Dodie had found a glider rocker and was giving it a workout. She crooked her finger to call Katie over. “Is it normal that they haven’t told us anything yet?”
“In one way, it’s a good sign,” Katie said, choosing her words carefully. “That means they’re still investigating, that they’re devoting their complete attention to what he needs from them right now. If there’s any kind of major change, they’ll tell us.”
“Okay.” Her voice sounded childlike. When the conversation ended, Dodie still gripped Katie’s hand. She lowered herself to a chair she’d pulled to Grandma Dodie’s side, steering clear of the glider’s trajectory.
Micah stood with his back against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed. He thumped his heart with his fist twice and pointed toward Katie. The simple gesture filled her soul. She longed to remove the pain from his face, but knew no human was capable of that.
“Family with Mr. Binder?”
The words seemed to catch them all off guard, as if surprised by what they’d been waiting so long to hear.
“That’s us,” Uncle Paul said, standing and brushing at his eyes.
“All of you?” The man in dark blue scrubs with a stethoscope draped around his neck and tucked into the breast pocket held an electronic tablet.
Tim scanned the room. “This isn’t all of us. But yes, we’re the only ones waiting right now.”
The man stepped toward Grandma Dodie. “You must be his wife.”
“Yes. For sixty-one years, going on sixty-two.”
“I’m Kirk Franzen. I’m consulting on your husband’s case.”
Grandma Dodie shook his hand and said, “You’re the most prayed-for doctor in the state right now, Dr. Franzen.”
His smile revealed a depth of understanding and appreciation for what he’d been told. “Couldn’t be . . .”—he swallowed, his Adam’s apple disappearing, then reappearing—“couldn’t be more grateful for that.” He looked around for an open chair. Titus offered his. Dr. Franzen pulled it close to Grandma Dodie, who’d stopped rocking.
“Your husband is a conundrum for us. With the advances in medical science, it’s not often anymore that I have to tell a family we don’t know what’s going on. At first, we suspected stroke. But it’s not following a typical stroke pattern. We’ve done initial heart evaluations and found nothing. CT scan showed nothing suspicious that would explain his sudden unresponsiveness and his less-than-ideal vitals. Some lab results are still pending, but what we’ve seen has revealed nothing that would have put him in his present state.”
The family circle tightened.
“We’re admitting him to CCU.”
Grandma Dodie looked at Katie. She whispered, “Critical care unit.”
“I’m not sure that’s the right place for him, to be honest,” the doctor said. “It may be that his body is . . . done. We have only a thready pulse right now. It can’t stay like that for long. So, you and your family may have to make some hard decisions. He had apparently signed a DNR order that is part of his medical records.”
Katie turned to Grandma Dodie to explain about “do not resuscitate” orders, but Dodie said, “Our primary care doctor talked to us about that every year when we’d see him. We figured we’d take care of that as soon as we got old. Then, one day, we realized we were.”
Dr. Franzen lowered his head and smiled. “Well, he’s on oxygen right now. And we have him on some medications that we hope will regulate his heartbeat, but of course we have no guarantees. He hasn’t responded to them at this point. No extreme measures? No life support?”
The words had the power to crush a human heart. A collective inhale made it feel as if the walls were drawing a deep breath too.
Grandma Dodie’s chin quivered as she said, “That’s what he wanted.”
“It will take the team a little while to get him settled into the room and hooked up to the monitors. Initially, you can all see him for two minutes until you’ve each had a chance to say whatever you want to say to him. But I have to tell you, although it’s possible, it’s unlikely he can hear you at this point.” He looked around the room. “Say whatever it is you want to say anyway, okay?”
Heads nodded.
“After that initial round of visits, no more than two people for ten minutes each hour. Unless we can tell he’s fail—We can discuss that later. Have you had anything to eat? You might want to do that now while he’s being admitted.”
“Thank you” resonated around the room.
“A nurse will be out in a few minutes with Mr. Binder’s room number and directions to the CCU. There’s a vending machine right down this hall. Sorry, folks. But not much close by is open tonight, and the hospital cafeteria closed an hour ago. It’s Christmas Eve.”
The Binder Family Christmas. So far from what Katie expected, in every way.
UNCLE PAUL RETURNED from his fact-finding mission pushing a small, wheeled stainless steel cart.
“Where did you get that?” Tim asked.
“From the vending machines.” He pointed to a curious array of items.
“He means the cart.” Deb approached cautiously, as did the other Binder women.
“Found it in the hall.”
“Do you know what might have been on that cart, Paul?” Micah held his stomach.
“And that’s why I lined it with paper towels.”
“Where’d you get the paper towels?”
“Too many questions. Are you ready for your turkey dinner?”
“Oh, my beautiful turkeys.” Grandma Dodie clasped her hands to her heart. Rhonda helped her out of her chair and assured her they were well taken care of by the team at home.
The new mom with a babe in each arm. The guy on crutches. The single dad. Two college students and five noisy little girls. Katie imagined Bella and Elisa would be two tired young women by the end of the night.
“We’ve got your Christmas-in-a-stable artistic interpretation of Christmas Eve dinner, people.” Paul draped a paper towel over his arm. “The chef’s special this evening is turkey and wilted lettuce sandwiches on desiccated bread . . .”
“Does he know desiccated means dried out?” Katie asked Micah.
“Oh, he knows.”
“And,” Paul continued, “another staple of Christmas dinner, cranberry sauce in its liquid form.”
Tim picked up one of the cans of vending machine cranberry juice.
“I couldn’t find mashed potatoes, unfortunately. But,” Paul said, finger in the air like an inventor with his eureka moment, “we do have potato chips and voilà!” He pounded his palm on one of the bags. “Now mashed.”
Even Grandma Dodie smiled a little with that one. “You can leave mine whole,” she told him.
“So much for authenticity.” Uncle Paul slid a dozen small bags of potato chips to the side. “And for dessert, a modern twist on Grandma Dodie’s pecan pies. I call it Heritage Salted Nut Rolls. Bon appétit!”
Allie gave her husband a hug from behind. “You do know I adore you?”
Paul covered her arms with his. “Yes.”
“And that your daughters think you’re one string shy of a full box of tinsel?”
“Astute young women.” Paul handed his wife a cellophane-wrapped turkey sandwich and a bag of chips. “Everyone! Time for feasting.” He looked up. Katie could imagine what he was thinking as his eyes pooled with tears. Somewhere on a floor above them, a father, grandfather, husband, great-grandfather lay unresponsive. Perhaps inching his way toward an endless Christmas in the presence of the One this night honored.
Paul’s face twisted. He turned away from the family and sobbed quietly in Allie’s arms.
Like those community-minded silver fish in the ocean, the rest of the Binders circled around him. Micah drew Katie into the circle. She clung to him and to the power of love.
Katie had one hand on Micah’s chest, so she both felt the vibrations and heard the words when Micah began to sing. “Silent Night.” Katie wished she’d memorized the words to “All Is Well.” She hummed the lullaby-like melody she’d heard playing repeatedly in the background in the Binder cottage over the last days. No words. Just inexplicable peace.
THE CRANBERRY JUICE tasted a lot like licking aluminum foil. Katie asked if anyone else wanted bottled water and turned toward the hall with the vending machines. Before she’d taken three steps, she heard, “Family for Mr. Binder?” The nurse pronounced it Bye-nder, like a three-ring binder.
Grandma Dodie asked, “Wilson?”
The nurse checked her notes. “Yes. Are you his family?”
“We are.”
“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting this long. We had a little incident getting your husband transferred, Mrs. Binder. Almost lost him. But he’s a little more stable now. Here’s the room number.” She handed Grandma Dodie a postcard of information with a room number written in permanent marker. “Dr. Franzen will meet you in the family conference room on that floor before you go in. It’s”—she looked around at the hovering family—“not a large room.”
“We fold up pretty small,” Paul said.
Grandma Binder thanked the nurse. The family quickly disposed of the remnants of their Christmas Eve meal and retrieved their coats and hats from the waiting room coatrack before heading for the elevators that would take them to the Critical Care Unit.
They crammed into one elevator. Katie glanced at the Maximum Capacity sign and counted heads. Oh well. Togetherness counted for a lot at times like this.
Dr. Franzen waved them into the family conference room. Sardines would have had more elbowroom if they had elbows.
“You have a lot of support, don’t you, Mrs. Binder?”
“The most”—she pointed to the sardines—“and the best.”
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Dr. Franzen said. “But I also know you want me to be honest with you about your husband’s condition.”
“Yes. Please tell us what’s going on.”
Dr. Franzen put his hand on Grandma Dodie’s shoulder. He scanned the room. “We can introduce life support systems temporarily, intubate him, force his heart to keep beating, and try to keep him alive until the day after tomorrow. No one wants to have Christmas Eve or Christmas Day forever be remembered as the day their loved one passed.”
A harmony of gasps sucked all the air from the room.
Grandma Dodie patted the doctor’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. “We’ve known for the last twenty-eight years, when my brother died, that every Christmas could be our last, that every moment could be the last we share together. We should have known it sooner than that. Slow learners, I guess.”
“I’ve had a total of ten minutes with you and already know you’re a remarkable family.” Dr. Franzen tried to catch everyone’s gaze. Katie had a mental list of ten or twelve doctors she’d like to send to Dr. Franzen for lessons on “dealing with the family.”
“I wish I could have known your husband, Mrs. Binder.”
“I do too. He would have liked you.” She drew a deep breath. “Could I have a few minutes with my family? Would you kindly stay nearby?”
“I’ll be at the nurses’ station. I wish I could have brought you better news this night. Tidings of great joy seem a more appropriate announcement on a night like this. I’m so sorry.”
Three Binders had to leave the room so Dr. Franzen could exit. When the family was alone, Grandma Dodie drew a breath and said, “Now, I need to say something that might not sit well with you.”
“Grandma,” Tim said, “I think we already know what it is.”
“Does anyone have a phone?” she asked. “We need to get Silas in on this.”
Eight phones volunteered. Grandma Dodie picked Titus to make the call. He filled his brother in on what the doctor said, then put Silas on speakerphone.
“Can you hear me, son?”
“I can hear you fine, Mom. I came into the mudroom. It’s quieter in here.”
Katie knew the feeling.
Grandma Dodie took another full-chest breath, as if getting ready to jump off a high dive. “Hear me out, please? I believe we should allow Wilson the dignity and honor of dying on the day Christ was born. An indelible new memory. Other families might have a different way of looking at it. But I don’t see the point in prolonging this until a different date on the calendar, an ordinary day. He was, is, no ordinary man. For him to die on the day we celebrate that Jesus came to give us life . . . It seems fitting. Right?”
The roomful nodded or voiced their sober agreement. Silas added his yes, his voice tight, strained.
“Thank you. Now, would one of you pray, then we’ll let Dr. Franzen know?”
Paul, the eldest tried, but only got through “Father God, we—” before he broke down. Tim picked up the reins. When his voice faded, Titus added the “Amen.”
Grandma Dodie exhaled loudly. “Okay, then. Silas, you’ll tell the others?”
“I will.”
Dr. Franzen didn’t disagree with their decision. “We expect the worst, but hope and pray for the best. Do you want me to wait to discontinue the medications and other equipment until the family members still at home can get here to say their final good-byes, in case that is what we’re facing?”
“Boys, what’s the last thing you said to your father?”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you. Did you have onions for lunch, Dad?”
“Paul Stephen Binder!” Grandma Dodie turned to Dr. Franzen. “We don’t leave unfinished business. There are nine more of us at home right now, seven if you don’t count the babies. All who can talk know Wilson loved them. And he knows they love him. Nothing left unsaid.”
Dr. Franzen lowered his head for a moment. He looked Grandma Dodie in the eye and said, “I’ll write the orders to discontinue his medications and the oxygen. If he shows signs of discomfort or agitation, we’ll make sure his pain is covered. You can go in and see him now.”
“All of us?”
“All of you. The rules change for these last hours.”
Dr. Franzen led the way to the room where Grandpa Wilson lay, then left the family alone with him.
The monitors registering his respirations, heart rate, pulse ox, and blood pressure caught Katie’s attention. She didn’t like what she saw. A life ebbing away.