Halfway to Forever

  For the next half hour they talked about a dozen different names, but finally they settled on Madison. Jade remembered that she had jokingly promised to name her daughter after Brandy Almond, her teenage patient at the children’s hospital. But Brandy would understand. Besides, Madison was the name of Tanner’s grandmother, a woman who had been rock-solid in her faith and drove Tanner to church long after his own parents stopped attending. Years after her death, her favorite Scriptures played in Tanner’s mind and often helped shape the strength of his views.

  “Besides that, she was beautiful.”

  “Of course.” Jade smiled and traced her finger along Tanner’s cheekbone. “She was related to you, wasn’t she?”

  “So, you like it?”

  “I like it a lot. I only wish I’d known your grandmother.”

  Tanner kissed the tip of her nose. “She would have loved you.”

  Jade leaned her head back and stared at an aquarium in the corner of the waiting room. She pictured heaven and having the chance to meet the elderly Madison Eastman, and Jenna, and Hannah’s Tom and Alicia. Calm reigned in her soul, and her heart felt full to bursting. “Sometimes I can’t wait to get to heaven.” A smile played on her lips. “All of us and Jenna. Together forever …”

  Concern flashed in Tanner’s eyes. “Don’t say that, Jade, please.”

  “I’m not ready to go today.” She eased his face nearer and kissed his cheek. “Sorry.”

  She could feel the muscles in Tanner’s arms relax. “It’ll be great—in another sixty years or so.”

  Jade smiled. “Madison what? What’s her middle name?”

  “Well …” Tanner’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s make her middle name after this woman I know who loves God and would go any distance to take a stand for her beliefs. If I could only remember her name …” He stroked his chin and stared at the ceiling as though he were trying to conjure up the woman’s memory. “Hmmm. She’s gorgeous beyond words, dark hair and eyes as green as Chesapeake Bay …”

  Jade rolled her eyes and giggled. “Gorgeous?”

  A mock indignation filled Tanner’s expression and he flashed her a sharp look. “Absolutely!” He returned his gaze to the ceiling and then suddenly snapped his fingers and stared at her. “I remember, now. Jade. Her name is Jade Eastman.”

  She laughed harder. “You’re crazy.”

  Tanner pointed at himself and mouthed the word, “Me?”

  “Yes, you.” Her laughter faded. “Come on, Tanner. I’m serious. She needs a middle name.”

  “I am serious.” He took her hands in his and studied her eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. “Madison Jade Eastman. I love it.”

  Lately it seemed Jade was constantly discovering new depths to the love she and Tanner had for each other. This was one of those times. “You really mean it?”

  “Yes.” He leaned in and kissed her lips, in a way that took her breath. He drew back only an inch or so, his whispered voice racked with sincerity. “Please.”

  Jade blinked back tears, and a sound that was more laugh than sob came from her throat. Tanner was right. The names sounded beautiful together. And there was something neither of them was saying. Jade’s name would live on, even if somehow the cancer …

  She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head drop for a moment. She wouldn’t think that way, not now. Not when their baby was about to be born. She had to believe there was life ahead for them. For both of them. When she looked up, she found Tanner’s eyes again and smiled. “I like it.”

  He kissed her, and his face lit up. “It’s perfect.”

  They were talking about nicknames for Madison when the technician entered the room and motioned for them to follow. As Tanner was helping her into the wheelchair, Jade had an idea.

  “Don’t I have an hour between tests?”

  Tanner glanced at his watch as he eased her into the chair. “You do.”

  “Let’s go see Brandy.”

  “Who?” Tanner was behind her now, easing the chair through the doorway and following the technician down a long hallway.

  “Brandy Almond, the high school track star with leukemia. Actually she should be home by now, but I want to try, just in case she’s here. Besides, I’d like to see the nurses. It’s been a while.”

  Tanner nodded. “It’s a plan.”

  The test was tiring but uneventful. When it was over and Jade was back in the wheelchair, the technician found them in the waiting room. She handed them a folder. “I’m not supposed to give you results,” she said, grinning at Jade. “But you’re a nurse.”

  Jade waited, her heart in her throat.

  The technician continued. “I compared these results with the last ones, and there hasn’t been any growth. If anything, the tumor’s smaller than before.” She winked at the two of them. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  The woman left, and the moment she was gone, Tanner took hold of Jade’s shoulders and lowered his face next to hers. “I knew God would get you through this.”

  Jade reached up and took hold of his hands. She closed her eyes and a single happy sob came from somewhere deep within her. “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.”

  Their moods were higher than they’d been in months as they followed a long corridor into the adjoining children’s hospital and made their way to the cancer ward. At the front desk, Jade’s former coworkers fussed over her and agreed that she was looking wonderful.

  They talked about the department and the victories that had taken place in the time since she’d been gone. Finally everyone drifted back to her work except Linda, the head nurse. She looked from Jade to Tanner then back again. “So what do the tests show?”

  Jade’s heart soared. “I get the results later today.” It was wonderful to have hope again. “But it looks good. I’m going to make it, Linda. I really think so.”

  Linda brought her hands together and lowered her voice. “We’re praying for you Jade. All of us.”

  Jade reached for Linda’s hand and squeezed it. “Thanks.”

  Linda was a new believer, one of the many people Jade knew who became a Christian after terrorists attacked the United States a year earlier. Across the country, in the aftermath of that tragedy, there were barely enough seats in churches for all the people looking for answers, looking for peace and hope and stability in a world gone mad.

  And many of them had found the answers they needed in the One who so clearly was watching over Jade and her baby. Without saying a word, Jade raised her hand and, from where he stood behind her wheelchair, Tanner took hold of it.

  It was time to find Brandy.

  Jade gazed down the familiar blue-carpeted hallway, which led to a dozen hospital rooms … places where Jade had administered medicine and held the hands of crying children and parents. Places where children had been healed.

  Places where they had died.

  She looked back at Linda. “I came to see Brandy.” She smiled, anxious for the visit. “Tell me she’s gone home.”

  Linda’s smile faded. “Oh, Jade …” Tears welled in her eyes and her chin quivered. For a moment the woman couldn’t seem to speak. “You didn’t hear.”

  “Hear what?” Alarms sounded in the sanctuary of Jade’s soul. What had happened? Was she sicker? Had she slipped out of remission? Whatever it was, there was still hope. Jade and Tanner would spend the hour at her side, cheering her up and praying with her. But even as those thoughts flitted through her mind, the next question stuck in Jade’s throat.

  “Last time I was here she looked great.” Jade’s voice sounded hollow. From behind her, Tanner tightened his hold on her hand. “She was … she was in remission. I kind of hoped she might be back at school by now.”

  Linda shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jade. I know she was special to you.” The woman moved closer to the wheelchair and placed her hand on Jade’s shoulder, the way nurses do when they’re about to deliver bad news.

  Jade’s head began to spin, and she
had the urge to leap from the wheelchair and run out of the building. What had Linda said? Had she used the dreaded past tense? I’m sorry, Jade … I know she was special to you …

  No! Jade wanted to scream. Not Brandy. Not when she was doing so well. This was her year, the year she was going to run again and win the track meet. Please, God, no.

  Tanner must have known how she was feeling, that she could hardly breathe, let alone speak. He cleared his throat and voiced the very thing Jade wanted to ask. “Is she sick again?”

  Two tears spilled onto Linda’s cheeks and she brought her hand to her mouth. “A week after your visit, Brandy got pneumonia.” Linda looked from Tanner to Jade. “She was very sick. A week later … the leukemia came back full force.” The woman paused. “She never recovered, Jade. We lost her three weeks ago.”

  Three weeks ago?

  How come no one had called her? Jade’s heart ached. She would have wanted to be at the funeral. At least then she could have comforted Brandy’s parents or known the peace of telling Brandy’s friends that she was in heaven with Jesus. That somewhere Brandy Almond was running again, her long beautiful hair blowing in the breeze of heaven’s wind. Running faster and freer than at any other time in her life.

  Anger mingled with excruciating feelings of loss, and Jade forced herself to speak. “How come … no one told me?”

  Linda’s gaze fell to the ground for a moment before finding Jade’s once more. “We didn’t want to upset you.” Linda released the hold she had on Jade’s shoulder and folded her arms. “We figured you had enough to deal with.”

  “Well.” Jade’s heart pounded in her throat. “I appreciate that. But you figured wrong.” She splayed her fingers against her chest. “I loved that girl … very much.”

  “I’m sorry.” Linda shook her head and wiped at another tear. “We didn’t know what to do.”

  Jade hung her head, and Tanner squeezed her hand, silently assuring her that he shared her grief. Every bit of it. Tears flooded Jade’s eyes and spilled onto her stretch pants. She wanted to fall to the floor, crawl to Brandy’s room, and climb up in her bed. She wanted to weep and wail and demand that God tell her why. Why He would take one so young and precious and new in her faith, one who would have had such an impact on her friends if she’d lived.

  Jade lifted her head and noticed that it took most of her strength. God, get me through this.

  I am your refuge and your strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble …

  The Scripture from Psalms worked its way through her being and she drew a steadying breath. When she lifted her head, she looked at Linda and nodded twice. “It’s not your fault. You did what you thought was best.”

  Linda squirmed, clearly anxious to get back to work. “Her friend—the one who told her about God—comes in once in a while and brings toys for the sick kids. I could give her your number if you want.”

  Jade managed a smile. “I’d like that. Thanks.” She tightened her grip on Tanner’s hand. “I have an appointment next door in a few minutes. Tell everyone I said good-bye.”

  They were halfway down the corridor toward the other building when Tanner pushed her into a quiet waiting area where they could be alone. He came around the front of her chair, knelt by her feet, and hugged her knees to his chest. “I’m sorry, Jade.”

  Tears, hot and steady, streamed down Jade’s face. Yes, death was a reality, especially in a children’s cancer ward. Illness was always a threat when a person’s immune system was unstable. But Brandy had looked so good the last time they were together …

  Jade squeezed her eyes shut and took quick breaths through her nose, trying to slow the sobs that sought to overtake her. “I can’t … believe … she’s gone.”

  Tanner laid his head in her lap and clung to her. “She’s with Jesus; we both know that.”

  A thread of terror stitched its way across Jade’s heart. “Is that what people will say about me a month from now? ‘She’s with Jesus?’ ”

  Tanner lifted his head and stared at her, his eyes stark with pain and fear. “Don’t say that! What happened to Brandy has nothing to do with you.”

  She sniffed and grabbed two more quick breaths. She didn’t want to attract attention so she kept her tone low. “You … you say that, but actually it does.” She tossed her hands in the air. “We get a good report so we think, great, maybe I’m going to get through this thing. But the truth is cancer can turn on you like that.” She snapped her fingers. “One week you can be heading toward your senior year in high school, hoping to break a state record in track and field, and the next week you’re gone.”

  Tanner studied her, his eyes helpless and desperate. “Just because Brandy lost her battle doesn’t mean you’ll lose yours. You can’t think that way.” He leaned in closer to her. “I need you, Jade.”

  “I know.” She released another series of quiet sobs. “I’m sorry. I’ll get a grip.” She looked at her watch. “We need to go.”

  The rest of the day was filled with nothing but positive reports. The baby was perfect, healthy and big enough for the scheduled C-section next week. Dr. Layton examined the results from the MRI and confirmed the technician’s assessment. The tumor had stopped growing and perhaps had even shrunk some.

  They left with plans for Jade to see her obstetrician once more that week. If everything looked fine, he would do a C-section on Jade Monday, October 7.

  It was an evening when Jade should have been walking on air, convinced that God was working miracles both in her body and that of her baby. Instead, she and Tanner spent the evening at Ty’s football game, huddled together despite the fact that temperatures were still in the high eighties.

  There were no words. When it came to feeling optimistic about cancer, Brandy’s death had said it all.

  Twenty-Three

  The sound of screeching tires out in front of Los Robles Medical Center snapped Hannah to attention and brought her to her feet. She searched for the admitting clerk. “Tina! Quick!”

  The tall, graying woman hurried around the corner, back to her spot behind the counter. “Patient?”

  “Yes.” Hannah pointed outside. “Look.”

  It had been a slow morning, the type that made Hannah wonder if they really needed her volunteer services. Lately she’d been thinking about helping at the children’s hospital instead, in the ward where Jade used to work.

  Either way, at least she was back in a regular schedule. Reading the note from Tom’s Bible and talking to Matt that evening had helped her hear God’s voice in her life once more. Despite the pain of losing Grace, Hannah could feel His merciful hand of healing upon her broken heart. They would survive, even if no other children came their way.

  Hannah was convinced of that much.

  Now she and Tina stared out the double glass doors as a beat-up Lincoln lurched to a stop in front of the emergency room entrance. The driver’s door inched open, and a rail-thin woman spilled out, struggling to stay on her feet. She was holding something, a rag or a blanket. Hannah couldn’t quite—

  Something moved, and Hannah gasped. “Dear God …” There was a baby in the woman’s arms, an infant no more than a few months old. “Tina, call someone!”

  Tina didn’t wait. She shouted over her shoulder, her eyes still on the woman and baby outdoors. “We need a doctor outside. Stat!”

  Down the hallway, a doctor and two interns dropped the charts they were working on, grabbed a wheelchair, and ran through the waiting room toward the woman outside. One of them took the baby; the other two helped the woman into the chair. Hannah couldn’t hear the doctors, but their expressions were dark and troubled. They raced the woman through the double doors and back into one of the rooms. Tina followed, and Hannah knew she needed to make a chart on the woman.

  On his way past, the third doctor handed the baby to Hannah. “Can you hold him? I’ll check his vitals in a minute, but he looks okay.”

  Hannah cradled the baby against her chest and looked at the do
ctor. “What happened?”

  The doctor’s mouth formed a straight line and his eyes narrowed. “Drugs.” He spat the word as though it tasted bad. “The woman can barely breathe.”

  A gust of anger blew against Hannah’s soul. Barely breathing? She let her eyes fall to the woman’s baby, snuggled in her arms. He was dressed in a tattered blue sleeper and he was wet through his blanket.

  Barely breathing? How dare that woman drive in that condition, drugged and half-dead? What if she’d killed this precious child? Or hit someone else—a family, or a father and his daughters coming home from a fishing trip? The baby wasn’t crying, but he was waving his hands and working his mouth.

  “There, baby.” Hannah kissed the infant’s forehead. “It’s okay, honey; I’ll take care of you.”

  She clenched her teeth and stared down the hallway toward the room where the woman was being worked on. Holding the baby close to her chest, Hannah walked to the nurses station and nodded to a supply of diapers behind the counter. “He needs changing and a fresh blanket.”

  An older woman sat behind the desk. “Poor little tyke. I sure hope his mama makes it.”

  Hannah ignored the comment. People who drove drunk or drugged didn’t deserve children. They deserved jail. Even when she was feeling compassionate and forgiving, even in light of Tom’s dying words, that much was true. “Call up to labor and delivery and see if they’ll bring me a few bottles of formula, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  Hannah took the diaper and found a gurney just outside the drugged woman’s room. While she changed the baby’s diaper, the woman began thrashing about the bed, screaming and flailing at the doctors around her. “Stop it! You’re killing me! Where’s my baby?”

  A nurse came up beside her and gave her a shot of something, and in less than a minute, the woman calmed down. Doctors took her pulse and checked her heart, rattling off numbers as they worked. “Ma’am, what did you take this morning?”

  Hannah wrapped the baby in the clean blanket and held him against her heart. Then she positioned herself so she could see the woman. Hannah’s stomach turned at the way the woman’s bones stuck out, as though they were trying to break free from her skin. Hannah had never seen anyone so thin.