Reclaiming Lily (27 page)

“Like, cool! I mean, not that someone’s sick or anything. I mean . . .”

“I understand.”
It is an inexplicable thing, Joy.
“Could we talk tonight?”

“Like, sure! I’ll call you later, okay? Dad wants to talk to you anyway, about scheduling my appointment.”

“Have you seen your local doctor?”

“He’s been out of town.”

Kai’s stomach tightened. So PKD still hovers in the realm of the unknown. Kai pushed away black thoughts. “What time will you be calling?”

“Nicole couldn’t meet till after dinner. Is nine too late? Or will you be in? I mean, like, it’s Friday and all—”

No worry, Joy. Suddenly my weekends are wide open
. “Nine is fine, Joy.”

The two said good-bye. A bittersweet mood lingered. The tragedy of death. Poor Gloria. Yet hope, blossoming in her beloved Joy. Kai sunk back into her chair, exhausted, though her workday had just begun. She found the file, opened it, and took her call.

“So, like, I was meant to do this. I know it
 . . .
deep inside.”

Joy’s words got her through her first Friday without a call from David, helped her slog through paper work, a conference call, a consult with a rather obnoxious colleague.

“So, like, I was meant to do this
.
”
She’d memorized Joy’s words by noon as she munched an apple at her desk.
“I know it . . . deep inside
.
”

Certainly not the way Kai would state it. But it resonated deep in Kai’s soul.
Dr. Ward would like it—no, he would love it. So do I
.

New findings. Clinical trials. Enough stats to birth a migraine. Kai set aside her work and caressed the smooth wood arm of the rocker where David loved to sit.
Never have I been so full of the latest data in my field, so empty in my heart
.

She hurried to the kitchen and set water to boil, intent on flushing self-pity from her system with a cup of tea. Cheryl’s silly cat wall clock told her she had two hours, considering the time difference, before she again heard Joy’s voice. Two hours to stop acting like a lovesick girl over her first weekend without David.

Her chin set with determination, she returned to the love seat, pulled a copy of a patient’s chart from her briefcase, and found his latest lab stats. Stats that failed to show Mr. Rollings’ twinkling eyes, a WWII shrapnel scar, the drive that led a great-grandfather, grandfather, and widower in agonizing pain to shuttle children to church.

The world of medicine—that means you, Kai—has done nothing to help him. Yet.

She flipped the page. Ran her finger across glucose, BUN, creatinine, GFR, CO2, potassium, sodium, magnesium, albumin, and calcium readings. Neat, columned figures.

Nonsensical.

Just as the teakettle shrilled, Cheryl rushed through the door, her short auburn bob catching the light in the room. “Kai!” She tossed down her handbag and enveloped Kai. “Are you ever a sight for sore eyes!”

Kai’s resolve to act the stoic crumpled with the touch of her first American friend. Cheryl had gone from a self-centered, fast-track Harvard journalism student to a caring, sensitive director of an international nonprofit organization after “being saved.” Cheryl had played matchmaker for Kai and David, Cheryl’s childhood friend. Though Kai rested her head on Cheryl’s shoulder, it didn’t alleviate the clamor rattling Kai’s soul. Cheryl claimed God opened one to the needs of others; David insisted God had closed the door to their relationship. Kai swallowed a gritty taste. This supernatural being was as unintelligible as Mr. Rollings’ chart.

Cheryl eased away but kept her hands on Kai’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry.” Tears glistened in Cheryl’s eyes. Beneath a smattering of freckles, her translucent skin glowed. Her heritage of tough coastal fishermen who carved a life along the rugged Maine shores had imbued Cheryl with peace . . . or perhaps it
was
her God.

Kai sniffed back tears. “He told you.”

The teapot screeched at ear-splitting levels.
Yet I will not budge, for it would mean breaking the connection with one who loves me
.

“You sit down.” Cheryl guided her to the love seat. Mr. Rollins’ files were set on the floor. “I’ll get the tea . . . on one condition.”

Kai felt her heart leap. Surely Cheryl wouldn’t avoid talk of David. It could be awkward, as Cheryl had known David since primary school. It might put distance between her and her roommate.
Can I withstand any more separation?

“Of course,” Kai managed wearily.

“That you don’t grouse about how weak the tea is.”

Sorrow lost its hold, and a giggle rose from Kai.
Laughter is a tonic, Dr. Ward, as you taught us. I should laugh more often
.

Cheryl joined her on the love seat and gifted Kai with a cup of steaming tea. “I talked to him after Bible study.” In her New England way, Cheryl cornered the tiger lurking in the forest.
Such directness is foreign to me, yet perfect for my state of mind.
“He claimed he did what he had to do,” Cheryl continued.

Kai set her cup on the coffee table. “What did you say?”

Porcelain thunked against porcelain. Two cups, side by side. Letting off steam.
Much like what I am doing
.

“Kai, this may be hard for you to get. It’s hard for me to get.” Cheryl leaned back, crossed her legs in the American way. “David felt your relationship was pulling him from God, his first love.”

Kai felt her jaw tighten. God as a “sweetheart.” A term of endearment David had used for
her.
Again the word
nonsensical
flashed in her mind, yet Kai would not question this dear friend.

Cheryl grabbed Kai’s hands to form a knot of flesh. “God asks us to give Him our heart, our mind, our soul. To die to ourselves.”

Kai’s insides wrenched. She had heard political propaganda like this all her life. To think two of America’s brightest deviated from logic in matters of religion!

“Then He can live in us . . . and offer a glorious new life.”

A strange wind cooled the fire that was her gut. Kai fought a desire to shake her head. One minute, Cheryl’s Christian language sickened her; the next, it revitalized her every fiber. “So the breakup had nothing to do with me.”

Cheryl released Kai. “David cherishes you. But God comes first.” Cheryl put her hand on her breast, as if pledging allegiance to this God. “In my heart, I know David’s right.”

Heart? Do not speak to me of the heart. You, David, and this God of yours are squeezing mine to death. Soon it will burst
. Despite her irritation, Kai summoned the fortitude to nod.

“Can I pray for you, Kai?”

These Christians, always praying. To a God who says they must die to themselves
. Kai turned from Cheryl, picked up her cup, and took a deliberate sip.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

Kai stiffened, as if frozen by their talk. Having an unlisted number had freed them from cold calls. Perhaps David had changed his mind. . . .

“You have reached 946-9401. I’m sorry we can’t take your call. Please leave a message.” The recorder again beeped. Clicked. A buzzing sound scratched Kai’s nerves.

“Hey, Kai. It’s Andrew. Um, I tried your cell, but—”

The Texas drawl propelled Kai off the seat. She rushed to the kitchen. “Andrew.” She exhaled, hoping to rid her voice of anxiety. She’d forgotten that Joy was to call. But this was Andrew . . .

“Sounds like I caught you off guard.”

Kai eased onto a bar stool. “Of course not, Andrew. I was just—”
on the verge of exploding at your God
—“having a cup of tea with my roommate.”

“That’s nice.” So congenial, so sincere, Joy’s father. Also a pastor of this God. Kai sipped her tea. “I’m glad you called, Andrew. How can I help you?”

“Joy told me y’all talked.”

Kai’s grip tightened on the phone. Why had Joy not called herself?

“Thank you for being there for her, Kai. It means a lot to Gloria and me.”

An image of the delicate blond woman flashed. “How is Gloria?”

“Better than I expected. She’s . . . holding up. But . . . I think you know what this baby meant to her.”

I know
.
Joy explained it in living color.

“Dr. Davies says she should be fine. I mean . . .”

“It is good there are no complications.” Kai softened her tone in deference to the poor man, the kind man, and then felt her mouth tighten.
A man who also has died for the Christian God.
She forced a smile. “No infection. That is good.”

“A miracle! Believe me, we’ve been on our knees.”

Kai felt her eyebrows arch. Would she ever understand these Christians?

“That’s why I’m calling.”

Because you are on your knees?

“We finally got ahold of Joy’s doctor while he was at his out-of-state conference. He just flew back today.”

Kai held her breath. Joy’s lab results were in.
That is why Joy did not call.

“Dr. Carlson had the lab take her blood pressure. Other things.”

What things?
Kai pressed her palm against the counter and stared at the teapot, so silent on a trivet. No longer letting off steam, like she itched to do. “Have you gotten the results?” Kai closed her eyes, concentrating to pull every inflection from Andrew. Waiting. Waiting. She had spent her whole life waiting, but never had it gripped her like this.

“Yes. Some.” Was it her imagination, or did a false joviality swell Andrew’s voice? “Dr. Carlson isn’t alarmed and doesn’t want us to be.” He cleared his throat. “But some of the numbers didn’t add up.” 

Kai pressed her lips together.
The yin, the yang. A language I know well. So tell me, Reverend Powell, before I scream.
“Which ones?”

“Um, he didn’t say.”

So we know nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I cannot rest until we do
.

“He did say we should bring her to Boston. Let you folks check her out.” Andrew spoke with an ingratiating tone. “Guess he checked around before he called. He said y’all are the best.”

Kai rubbed her hand along the nubby kitchen wall. Her mouth had gone numb, as had her brain. She stared at that silly cat clock with the sweeping pendulum tail.
Swish, swish,
PKD.
Swish, swish,
PKD.

Kai pulled her gaze from the clock. So much had happened in such a short time, it was difficult to process. But she must. She tried to think. The Powells needed her to think.

“Will that be a problem, Kai? Kai?”

Thoughts dizzied her mind. She cleared them by picturing Joy, strolling in the Common. “Of course not, Andrew. I am at your service.” She would grab Dr. Duncan early Monday, certainly before the staff meeting. Mr. PKD, she’d nicknamed him. No expense would be spared, no test would be overlooked. This was her Lily—her Joy.

“Carl wanted her tested, er, yesterday. Just to get ahead of the game.”

“Of course.”

“When can y’all see her?”

Kai smiled, remembering Dr. Ward’s love of humor. “Yesterday.”

Andrew’s chuckle traveled all the way from Cowtown to douse the last of her tension. “We Texans don’t time travel, but I’ll get on the stick. How about we shoot for next Wednesday? I’ll let you know ASAP. If you’re not busy, I’ve got someone here about to have a conniption.”

Kai pictured waving arms and purple hair. With a smile, she lifted her cup and finished her tea. This phone call gave her an escape from talk about David and the Christian God, which only muddled her emotions. Something she didn’t need if she was to focus on Joy.

“Kai?” It was that lovely high-pitched voice. Joy! “Did you hear? Like, I’m coming to Boston! Could I take rounds with you? Oh, and I forgot to tell you this morning. I quit smoking!”

Kai smiled. Strangely, a conniption with Joy was exactly what she needed.

19

Cold coffee’s the pits. And the pit is where I’m dwelling
. Gloria searched for nourishment in her daily devotion book, her inky coffee, their cozy breakfast nook. Her appetite for spiritual food—along with the church family’s casseroles, her thoughtful neighbor’s cinnamon rolls—had died.

Just like . . . her baby.

She dragged along, wearing her robe and house shoes, then clicked a smile in place when Joy and Andrew returned . . . from work, school, the counselor’s. They didn’t need tears and a mopey face.

Every phony comment and lying smile sucked out more of her insides. If she didn’t do something soon, she’d melt into a puddle on this grimy kitchen floor.

She cringed. Would she ever see a puddle as anything but red?

With a push off the table, she rose to her feet and stepped to the window.

Outside, birds sang and crickets chirped, surreal against the sorrow in her soul. She gripped her middle, massaged with deeper and firmer strokes. Not even a twinge. How could that be? A baby had lived . . . and died in there.

Andrew and their old hand-me-down bed bore her grief. Never had he cuddled with her so gently, prayed for her so long, shed so many tears to match her own.