A Time to Dance

  As long as she lived, she’d never forget this afternoon. The depth of love and laughter, peace and acceptance. She had told John the truth. She could never love him more in all her life, and that would be true tomorrow, too.

  No matter what else the day might bring.

  Twenty-nine

  JAKE WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING AT SEVEN O’CLOCK and looked at his calendar.

  This was the day. He could feel it as surely as he could feel his own heartbeat. He’d been praying, not just for Coach Reynolds, but for the man’s little granddaughter as well. And God had practically told him that sometime that morning there would be drastic miracles for both of them.

  His job was to keep praying.

  So before he climbed out of bed, before he got dressed or ate breakfast or did anything else, he rolled onto his stomach, buried his face in his pillow, and prayed. Not the way he used to pray back when he was a kid, before the accident.

  But like a man.

  As though his very life depended on it.

  There was a flurry of activity around Haley’s incubator.

  Nicole had slept down the hall in the same room where she and sometimes Matt had stayed since Haley was born. The little girl had survived four weeks, longer than the doctors had dared hope. But still her lung activity was weak. If the situation didn’t improve, she was a prime candidate for pneumonia, which in her frail state would almost certainly prove fatal.

  As always, Nicole had asked the nurses to get her if anything about Haley’s condition changed. But no one had come for her, and now her heart raced as she saw half a dozen nurses gathered around her baby. She moved quickly down the aisle, past several incubators until she was as close as she could get to Haley’s.

  “Excuse me . . .” Nicole peered around the nurses. “What’s going on? That’s my baby in there.”

  A nurse Nicole recognized spun around and hugged her. “It’s a miracle!” She pulled Nicole back a few feet away from the commotion. “This morning your baby’s numbers looked worse than before. We were going to wake you up and have you come see her, but then at a little past seven o’clock, everything changed.”

  Nicole’s mind raced almost as fast as her heart. “Changed? What do you mean?”

  “Her lungs. It’s like they opened up for the first time and actually sucked in a complete breath. Right away her blood oxygen level soared into the healthy range.”

  “So . . . so she’s doing better?” Nicole strained to see Haley, glad that the other nurses were going about their business again.

  “Not just doing better.” The nurse positively beamed. “She’s turned a corner. The doctor was just in and he upgraded her condition from critical to serious. If things stay this good, she can go home as soon as she’s gained enough weight. No one can believe it. That’s why the other nurses are here. Things like this don’t just happen. Not to sick babies like yours.”

  There was finally an open spot alongside the incubator, and Nicole pressed in as close as she could. “Can I touch her?”

  The nurse grinned. “Definitely.”

  Nicole worked her hand through the sterile opening and soothed a finger over Haley’s legs and arms. “Honey, it’s me. Mommy.” Tears spilled onto her cheeks, and Nicole uttered a single laugh. “God saved you, Haley. He’s going to let you live.”

  She remembered the image Jo had seen so often. Three little girls running and skipping through the fields of heaven. Nicole shuddered. How close they’d come to having that be true.

  Haley stretched her legs, her hands flailing at the touch of Nicole’s skin. Nicole glanced back at the nurse. “She wants me to hold her.”

  “She does?” The nurse raised an eyebrow. “We’ll weigh her later today, and if her breathing is still this good, you should be able to hold her this afternoon.”

  Nicole wanted to shout out loud. Haley was going to live! Her mind raced, thinking of what to do next. She needed to tell Matt and his parents, needed to tell her parents—

  Her parents!

  It was just after eight o’clock, and her father would be wheeled into surgery any minute. He couldn’t go without hearing the news. Nicole whispered near the hole in the incubator. “Haley, baby, get some sleep. I’ll be back.” Then she turned to the nurse. “Watch her for me. I have to tell the others.”

  Nicole hadn’t run this fast since before the baby was born. She bounded down the hall and into the elevator, and darted back out the moment it reached the fifth floor. Quick as her feet would carry her, she made her way to the nurses’ station. “I’m looking for my dad, John Reynolds.”

  The nurse pointed. “He’s on his way to surgery.”

  “Thanks.” Nicole took off down the hall. Oh, not yet . . . please, God, let me catch him in time.

  She rounded a corner near the elevator and ran smack into Kade, who tripped, toppling both of them onto the floor, their legs and arms tangled. From her position on the hospital floor, she shouted at her father. “Don’t go anywhere, Dad. I have to tell you something.”

  Her mother helped her to her feet, while Kade flopped onto his backside and struggled to get up. “Nice tackle.” He straightened his baseball cap. “You missed your calling, Nicole. You shoulda been a lineman, not a teacher.”

  “Sorry.” Nicole brushed the dust off Kade’s jeans and then her own. “I had to reach Dad before he went into surgery.”

  Her father was lying on the stretcher, just outside the elevator doors. He was quietly laughing, his eyebrows raised. “Whatever it is, it must be good.”

  Nicole nodded to Sean and moved closer to her father. A technician stood at the foot of the stretcher, watching her like she was a crazy woman. She waved at him. “Hello . . . sorry about the excitement.”

  The elevator door opened, and Nicole shook her head at the man. “Not yet. Give me a minute, okay?”

  “Nicole, whatever is going on?” Her mother came up beside her, searching her face.

  “Just a minute. Dad—” she turned her attention back to her father—“Haley’s turned a corner. She’s breathing like a regular baby and . . .” Nicole could barely catch her breath, first from the hospital sprint, but also from the sheer exhilaration of the miracle that had occurred. She exhaled, struggling to compose herself. “The doctor said she’s turned a corner. She’s out of danger, Dad. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Now it was Kade’s turn to tackle her. He lifted her in a bear hug while Sean and her mother circled their arms around her. Her father reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Are you serious, sweetheart?”

  Nicole worked herself free from the group hug. “Yes, Daddy.” She bent over him, searching his eyes. “And God’s not finished yet. I couldn’t let you go into surgery without knowing what God was doing. What He’s still going to do for you before the day is up.”

  “So, honey, what happened? She just breathed on her own for no reason?”

  The elevator doors opened again, and Nicole flashed the technician a smile. “One more minute? Please?”

  He shrugged. “They can’t start without your father.”

  Nicole looked at her mother. “No one knows what happened. Sometime around seven o’clock she sucked in a full breath of air. The monitors all went off, telling the staff that she was finally breathing on her own. She’s been breathing great ever since.”

  “Yes!” Sean raised his fist in the air. “My little niece is gonna live!”

  Nicole’s voice grew softer. “So, Dad . . . now it’s your turn, okay?”

  Her father smiled, his eyes dry. “You tell that little girl of yours that one day soon, her grandpa’s going to take her for a walk.”

  “Okay.” Nicole stepped back and nodded to the technician just as the elevator doors opened one more time. “Go get ’em.”

  She linked arms with Sean and Kade and Mom. The last thing any of them saw as John was wheeled into the elevator was a smile that stretched across his face. That and his raised fist as he flashed them the thumbs-up sign.

  Se
eing it made Nicole’s eyes fill with tears. It was the sign her father had always flashed from the football field, but not before every game.

  Just those he was sure they were going to win.

  Abby had never paced in all her life, but she was pacing now. Not the slow, musing type of pace reserved for pensive moments. Rather a quick one. Fast steps across the waiting room to the wall of windows, and then faster steps back again.

  Nicole and Matt were downstairs with Haley, the boys had gone to the cafeteria for something to eat, and Jo and Denny weren’t there yet. So, Abby was alone. The operation had been underway for nearly an hour, and Abby had more energy than she knew what to do with.

  Yes, she would love John the same if the surgery didn’t restore feeling to his legs. But what if it did? What if he could actually walk and run and drive a car again? How amazing would that be? Not only would they have found a deeper love because of the accident, but they would have a second chance to enjoy it.

  The possibilities made Abby’s heart race, and the only way she knew to work through it was to pace. Hard and fast, in a way that gave her nervous energy an escape.

  Dr. Furin had told them the operation could take four hours. They had to identify each strand of John’s damaged spinal cord and painstakingly repair it. If they were right, if he was to have any chance of walking again, they would find a few strands still intact. That would explain the feeling and movement in his toes.

  But that was only half the battle.

  The other half was making sure the repair went perfectly well. Strand by strand, hour after painstaking hour.

  Abby paced faster.

  She was still pacing when Jo and Denny came down the hall and stopped at the entrance to the waiting room. “My land, Abby, what in tarnation are you doing?” Jo came up beside her and took hold of her arm. “Trying to wear a hole in the floor?”

  For the first time in half an hour, Abby stopped. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Well, that’s easy as fly bait.” Jo led Abby to the nearest sofa, with Denny still watching from the doorway. “You sit yourself right down here and pray.” She motioned for Denny to join them.

  As he did, he pulled a newspaper section from behind his back and handed it to Abby.

  Jo beamed at her. “Then, when you’re finished praying, you can read this. After that I don’t think you’ll feel much like pacing.”

  Abby took the newspaper and nodded, closing her eyes while Denny prayed for the surgeons’ hands to be guided by God’s mighty grip. When they were finished, Abby held the paper up and stared at it. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. The entire page was filled with column after column of names. Then her eyes shot to the top of the page. What she saw made her gasp out loud.

  It was a full-page ad, and the headline read, “We’re praying for you, Coach!”

  Beneath that was a smaller section that said, “We, the students and teachers at Marion High, wish to publicly thank Coach John Reynolds for everything he’s done to make us winners. Today, as he goes into surgery, we will be praying for his complete recovery. And that next year he might still be head coach of the mighty Eagles.”

  The sentiment was followed by a list of names too great to read through in one sitting. Hundreds of names, names of teachers and students and players—many Abby didn’t even recognize.

  “See.” Jo gave a firm nod. “I knew that’d stop your pacing.”

  The newspaper shook in Abby’s hand. “John won’t believe it.”

  Jo was right about her nervous energy. After seeing the full-page ad from the community at Marion High, Abby felt strangely peaceful. She passed the next three hours either praying or playing cards with Jo and Denny.

  When they weren’t in the cafeteria eating, Kade and Sean kept busy with Sean’s NFL Game Boy. Occasionally Nicole and Matt found their way up to the waiting room anxious for a report.

  But there was none.

  Abby tried not to see that as a bad sign. Dr. Furin had said he’d do his best to give the family updates throughout the surgery. Almost four hours had passed, and still they’d heard nothing.

  “Shouldn’t we know by now?” Denny peered over the cards in his hand and sent Abby a quick look.

  “I thought so.” She drew a steady breath. Come on, heart. Stay steady. “I guess we’ll just have to wait.”

  “A good fisherman knows all about waiting.” Jo played a card. She looked completely unfazed, as though they were passing the afternoon in a sunny parlor and not the waiting room of a hospital. “Only instead of casting a line, today we’re casting our cares.” She grinned at Abby. “Beats pacing, don’t it?”

  Another thirty minutes passed, and Abby didn’t care if Jo was right. She had cast her cares on God a hundred times in the past hour, and the anxiety was back. “Okay, guys—” she looked at Jo and Denny and motioned for the boys to join them—“it’s time to pray again.”

  But before they could utter a single word, Dr. Furin appeared. Abby squinted to make out his expression. She had seen the hint of a grin play on the man’s face before, but she’d never seen his face fully taken up with a smile.

  Until now.

  Abby was on her feet immediately. “How is he?” The others stayed perfectly still, staring at the doctor, waiting for the news.

  “He came through the surgery beautifully.” Dr. Furin took a seat across from them. “His break was just as we hoped it might be. We had barely enough cord to work with.”

  Abby was frantic for the news. Her entire body trembled. “Can you tell yet? Whether it worked?”

  The doctor’s smile got even bigger. “He’s already coming out of anesthesia and we’ve gotten reaction from all of his major reflexes.” He held his hands out to his sides. “The operation was a complete success. He’ll need therapy, of course, to regain the strength in his legs. But I expect him to make a full recovery.”

  Jo stood up and stared down at the doctor, her hands on her hips. “I’m a lot simpler than most folk, Doctor. I don’t want this full recovery or therapy business. The question is: Will the man walk again?”

  “Yes.” Dr. Furin laughed out loud. “He’ll beat you in a footrace before summer.”

  “Yahoo!” Jo raised her fist straight into the air. “Thank You, Jesus!”

  Kade and Sean slid onto the sofa on either side of Abby and hugged her. They were both crying. “I didn’t think—” Kade was too choked up to say more.

  “What he means is—” Sean wiped his tears—“neither of us thought it would really happen. We thought . . . we thought you grownups were crazy to think an operation could help Dad walk again.”

  “I feel so bad.” Kade sniffed, his face still buried in Abby’s shoulder.

  Dr. Furin nodded at her and quietly stood to leave. They could talk about the details later. For now she had two boys to comfort.

  Jo took Denny by the hand and whispered to Abby, “I’ll go tell Nicole.”

  Abby nodded and waited until they were gone. Then she soothed her hands over the backs of her boys. “It’s okay . . . you don’t have to feel bad. Daddy’s going to be fine.” They might be teenagers, but inside they were still children, still desperately in need of consoling. Especially with all that had happened in their lives this past year.

  Kade coughed and lifted his face enough so Abby could see his swollen eyes. “I didn’t believe, Mom. I’ve been a Christian all these years, and . . . and Matt’s parents had more faith.” He twisted his face in anger. “What does that say about me?”

  “Me, too.” Sean sniffed. “I knew everyone was praying for a miracle. I mean, I prayed for Dad to be okay. But I never really thought he’d walk again.”

  “You’re not the only ones, boys. There were times when I felt the same way. I had to believe the operation wouldn’t work and imagine my life that way. Even today I had trouble believing it would actually happen.”

  “Really?” Kade sat up a bit straighter. He dragged the back of his hand beneath
his eyes. “I thought that kind of thing didn’t happen to people your age.”

  Abby chuckled, giving Kade a soft punch in the gut. “People my age?” She raised her eyebrows. “I think it happens more to people my age.” She thought of Haley Ann and her laughter dimmed a bit. “Because we’ve had a chance to see the truth that sometimes God doesn’t give us the answer we want.”

  “So, Dad’s really going to walk again?” The reality of what had happened was sinking in, and Sean couldn’t contain himself. He bounced up and down on the seat. “Maybe he and I can go jogging this summer. Like, every day for a mile or two.”

  Kade laughed. “Give him time, buddy. First he has to get his legs strong enough to move them.”

  They were discussing the process of muscle atrophy, when Nicole and Matt came tearing around the corner. “Is it true?” Nicole grabbed Abby’s hands. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears.

  “My parents told me the operation was a success. They’re taking a turn with Haley, but we had to come up and ask for ourselves. Is that really what the doctor said?” Matt blurted out.

  Abby grinned and the feeling seemed to come from the depths of her soul. “To quote the man, he said your father will beat people at footraces before summer hits.”

  “Yes!” Nicole flew into Matt’s arms, and then moved around the room, hugging Abby and her brothers. “I knew it was going to be a day of miracles. I just knew it.”

  As her children began talking all at once, laughing and smiling, filled with a hope they hadn’t had before, Abby felt the nervous energy come over her again. Not because she was worried or anxious, but because there was something she had to do. Something no amount of pacing would satisfy.

  “I’ll be right back.” Abby stood and headed down the hallway.

  “Wait.” Nicole called after her. “Where’re you going?”

  Abby only grinned, this time bigger than before.

  “That’s not fair. I want to see him, too.”

  “Me first. If he’s awake, I’ll come get the rest of you.” Abby sent them a look that said they better not follow her. Then she practically ran toward John’s room to do the one thing she’d wanted to do since his operation began.