13

“I don’t think you’re ready to go home yet,” Scott said as he walked me over to the bed. “You’re as white as a ghost.” He gingerly leaned me against the bed, and then pushed the call button.

“Yes?” The nurse answered over the speaker.

“Could you send someone in here to take a look? I don’t think she’s feeling well.” Scott sat down on the bed and then pulled me next to him.

“I’m definitely ready to go home. I just had a very stressful visit from Kevin Brown’s mother. I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.” I wanted my own bed in the worst way, and I wanted my babies next to me.

“Really? What happened?” He held my hand.

“Did you know Brenna was here?” I couldn’t look at him. He was just protecting me, knowing that the news would be too much. Still, what did I need to do with that information?

“I’m sorry, Sweetie, I just thought it might be overwhelming. I guess I can’t talk you out of going to see her?”

I wondered if I could take it. Anger rose again and made my head hurt. I wanted to put this all aside and hold my babies. Why couldn’t I just revel in the joy of my twins? “I don’t know.”

Mom walked in just then. “What’s the matter, Bailey, are you OK?”

“Just feel worn out after a visit from Lana Brown. It wasn’t pleasant.”

“I’m sorry. I’d imagine she’s pretty upset. What did she say?”

“She came in here making excuses for him. Although it sounded awful, his childhood, I mean. I don’t even know what to do with that information. I’m angry that I have this all mixed up with the birth of our first children. It’s not supposed to be like this.” I leaned my head onto Scott’s shoulder and let the tears come.

Mom sat down beside me.

“She told me that Brenna is here. I have to see her.”

“Bailey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not just for you. She doesn’t know about you, or that her father is dead. A visit from you might be too confusing.”

“How do you know? Were you able to get information from the hospital staff?” My heart beat faster.

“I met Mrs. Brown for coffee in the cafeteria. But I think we should get you home and the little ones settled. We’ll discuss it after you’ve had some rest.”

Selfish. That’s what kind of person I was. I’d only been thinking of myself, not that poor girl. Of course I shouldn’t see her now. But I wondered if I could get a glimpse of her without her knowing. A thought occurred to me. “Mom, this has to be hard on you too. I mean, you were married to him.” I shifted my head from Scott’s shoulder to hers.

“I’m sad for him, but I’m mostly concerned about you. The news about Brenna Brown must be really weighing on you.” She patted my knee.

“I don’t want to, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s just almost too much. Did you know about her, Mom?” I lifted my head and looked into her eyes.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t know he’d remarried, either. It’s as I told you before. He left and I never heard from him again. You have to believe that I’d have told you if I’d known. At least I think I would have. Knowing her would have meant involvement with your father. I don’t know if I would have wanted that. Honey, I just don’t know.” She sighed.

“Am I supposed to go to her? To help her? It would be the Christian thing to do, but my heart is so torn up just now. It’s not like I can take my time to think about it. She’s dying.”

“Tell you what,” Scott said. “We can’t do anything without praying first. I’m taking that off your shoulders just for today. I’ll call everyone and we’ll start a serious prayer effort. Today you just get to go home, sleep in your own bed, and play with the little ones.”

“But, there’s not time. I mean, how long does she have?” A headache pulsed between my eyes.

“How many times did you fuss at me for not letting people help? Now you need rest, and we will take care of everything. We’ll find out what the girl needs, what the doctors say, and we’ll give you a report. We’ll all pray and then you’ll be boosted up for a decision.” He rubbed my shoulders.

The tension began to ease. “All right. Let’s go home.”

“Not for another hour. We’re checking your vitals again, and making sure you are truly ready to go home. You are so pale,” Mom said, stroking my forehead. “I’ll go for a cart and be right back.”

Scott continued to massage my neck and shoulders. I closed my eyes and attempted to transfer my worries to him. I knew he’d do what he’d promised. I should be putting all of it into God’s hands, but I felt I didn’t know God anymore. I couldn’t feel him. This bothered me more than anything.

“You sit tight and wait for the nurse. I’ll see if the babies are ready to go home,” Scott said.

The room spun in circles as I sat alone. With everything going on in my brain, I was surprised at the sudden leading in my heart. I walked out, slowly, my incision still hurting.

No one was in the hall.

A lone nurse sat at her computer at the nurse’s station.

Cancer patients were on the seventh floor.

The nurse never looked up.

I slipped inside the elevator, pushed level seven, and leaned against the wall. Walking proved more difficult than I’d imagined, so the momentary rest helped. I felt pulled beyond my control, yet in full coherence of what I was doing.

The elevator doors opened with a ding. I let them close again. What was I doing? When they opened again, I walked out and stood in the hallway, looking right and left. There seemed to be more noise and activity to my right, so I headed that way. Sure enough, I found the main nurses station for that floor. I leaned over the desk. “Brenna Brown?” The words felt foreign on my tongue, like a dreaded medicine that must be swallowed.

The nurse nodded her head to the right. Four rooms lined up across from the nurses’ station, all with large glass windows. A large, structural column stood between the second and third rooms.

“She’s in 703, the third one there. Are they expecting you?” She stood, clutching a clipboard.

“Oh, no. Don’t want to disturb. I just wondered where she was. I’ll check on her later.”

“Family or friend,” she asked.

My blouse seemed to strangle me at the neck. Heat rushed to my face and the pressure at my cesarean incision became painful. “Yes, well, thank you,” I said and turned for the elevator.

She nodded, her eyes squinting in confusion.

I turned back as I got to the elevator door and noticed she’d stepped away from her desk. I walked back and stood by the column in front of Brenna’s room, peeking around like a sneaky little girl.

Lana Brown sat reading in a guest chair on the far side of the hospital bed. The young girl laid limp, face covered with an oxygen mask, IV line on her right arm, her head tilted toward the window, her eyes closed. So pale. White, like a pearl. The dark rings around her eyes contrasted the bloodless skin. How long has she been like this? When was she diagnosed?

Even from the eight or so feet distance, I could see her long eyelashes. I supposed I expected to see a bald cancer patient, but her molasses brown hair ribboned down the side of her face. Her chest rose and fell with steady breaths. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

She opened her eyes and looked right at me.

I felt my face expand in surprise.

But she smiled. Those brown eyes exuded hope.

A hope that depended on me? We held eye contact. I raised a hand and offered a little wave.

She lifted a languid finger in return.

Lana Brown never looked up.

What am I doing? She didn’t know anything about me, at least I didn’t think so. The tragedy of it all assaulted my heart and I looked down. Scott was probably looking for me. I turned and walked away without a backward glance. Thankful no one was in the elevator, I leaned against the wall and let the emotion wash over me. This was more than I could take. God, how could You allow this? I found my room and sat on the bed again. My thoughts jumbled together behind a headache that increased by the minute. I had to get control of my raging emotions. I would go home with my babies today. Motherhood was a full-time job and these little ones needed my full attention. Yet my heart was torn between nightmares and possibilities. I’m in over my head, and God You are so distant.