That was almost three weeks ago.
Ann’s recovery from surgery is going much quicker than I would have thought. She can’t run or anything yet, but even within a few days at the hospital she was already getting up and around, and now she’s able to do light chores at home. And apparently she’s well enough to kiss!
Yuck.
Bree still has a long way to go. She’ll need lots of physical therapy after she’s out of the wheelchair, but I don’t expect any of that to really slow her down. Heck, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’s not already thinking about how she can get her wheelchair to the top of the hill at the park for a quick ride down.
No, I take that back. She’s probably thinking about how she can get me to ride down the hill in her wheelchair. And honestly…it sounds like a lot of fun.
Dad and Mom don’t get home until almost midnight. Ann and I are asleep on the couch in front of the television when they come in. Bree is in her wheelchair on the other side of Ann.
“Kids,” Dad says. “Wake up. We want to show you something.”
We all exchange confused looks as we make our way to the front door to look out at the driveway. There, parked behind Mom’s minivan, is the Walrus.
“We had dinner at the Stephanie Inn,” Mom explains, “and picked this up on the way home.”
“Once you have your license, it’s yours to use,” Dad tells Ann. “At least until Bree is old enough to drive. And then eventually it’ll be Cade’s turn.”
All I can say is, “Whoa.”
“Totes awesome!” adds Bree.
Ann is kinda stunned. “For real?”
“For real,” says Mom. “With one stipulation.”
“Anything.”
Mom smiles. “Every new driver needs to give it a new name.”
Ann nods. Then she touches her chest with one hand. “That’s easy,” she whispers. “I’ll call it Stan.”
“Stan?” I ask. I’ve never known anyone named Stan. “What kind of a dumb name is that? I thought maybe you’d call it Tanner.”
She takes a deep breath and sighs. “Tanner has my heart, Cade. At least for now. But Stan…Stan was my donor. I never asked for it, yet he gave me his heart freely.”
The next Friday, after the first week of school, Mom picks me up right at the final bell so we can take a quick trip out to the coast. Ann and Bree want to go too, but they aren’t up for the drive. Our first stop in Cannon Beach is at Grandma Grace’s nursing facility.
As usual, Grandma isn’t doing well, so it’s not much of a conversation.
“Grandma, it’s me, Emily.”
She blinks that she understands. Then she says, “You came.”
“Yes, we came.” Mom scoots closer. “I have some news. Ann got her new heart.”
Grandma’s eyes light up for a moment, but then they fizzle, like she senses that there’s more news.
“Bree, however, was in an accident. We probably should have sent word, but I didn’t want to worry you. She was hit by a car right here in Cannon Beach, but had to be taken to Portland for treatment, which is why we haven’t been around lately. But…she’s doing a lot better. She’s lucky, Grandma. Really lucky to be alive. It was touch and go for a while.”
“Not luck,” Grandma mumbles. Then she looks right at me, and clear as day she says, “It’s always in God’s hands.”
“That’s right, Grandma,” I tell her. “And God has very big hands.”
Grandma’s tired eyes are dropping, like they always do when she’s had enough. She takes a deep breath through her oxygen tube, then closes her eyes all the way.
Mom needs a few things from the beach house before we leave town, so that’s our second stop. While she’s inside gathering them, I sneak outside to the beach. The tide is way out, so I run down to the base of Haystack Rock and begin digging in the sand. A minute later I find another Christmas tin, this one decorated with Santa. It could easily hold a dozen sugar cookies, but the weight of it feels like there’s nothing in it.
When I open the lid, there is a piece of Bree’s art-stock paper inside. It’s rolled into a scroll and bound in the middle with a rubber band. I dry my wet hands on my shirt and brush off all the extra sand, just to make sure I don’t ruin whatever it is, and then I gently roll the rubber band to one end.
On the inside of the paper is a beautiful sketch of our family, mostly done in pencil. Bree, with her short hair, is at the center. To her left are my parents, hand in hand. Bree has her arm around Ann’s shoulder, and Ann has ahold of me. The only splashes of color on the entire page are the vibrant red hearts on everyone’s chests.