The Winner's Game(4)
“Absolutely,” I chime in, trying to be positive for the sake of the kids. “As many weekends as I can break away.” I focus on Bree, then ask, “Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”
She shrugs. “I dunno. Just making sure.”
Emily scoots closer to Bree on the couch and puts an arm around her. “It’s been a really hard year, Breezy, and your father and I have certainly felt the strain that comes with adversity. But we love each other very much. So, other than Ann’s well-being, there’s nothing to worry about.”
Bree gives a nod that she understands, but I’m not sure that she completely bought it. “Um, OK.” She pauses momentarily, and then says, “New topic. Is it OK for Ann to be so far away from here if a heart becomes available?”
I glance at Cade, who looks a little squeamish. Talking about hearts so casually has never been easy for him. The unstated reality of his sister’s remark, which he only recently fully grasped, is that a human heart only “becomes available” when its owner no longer requires it. Even as a macho eleven-year-old boy, he still clearly finds the thought unsettling.
“The doctors say it’s fine,” I explain. “She’ll have a pager on her at all times, and if we get a page—when we get a page—we’ll just need to get to the hospital within a few hours. Cannon Beach is only seventy-five miles away, so we have a little buffer. And in many cases, the donor is on life support, so they wouldn’t harvest the heart until we arrive. Worst case, they could arrange an ambulance service to get Ann there sooner if needed. But the doctor says the benefit of spending some relaxing time away at the beach far outweighs any risk of being farther away.”
I can’t help but notice Cade cringing when I say “harvest,” as though we’re talking about picking vegetables from a garden.
There is a momentary pause in the conversation, then Emily gently says, “Cade, you look like something’s on your mind. Care to share?”
“Just thinking about Ann, I guess. She sometimes gets on my nerves and all that, but…I just hope she’s gonna be all right.” Without blinking, he asks, “She is gonna be all right, isn’t she, Mom?”
Emily’s eyes start to fill up once more. She looks down briefly and then refocuses on our son. “There are no guarantees in life, Cade, so I can’t make any promises. The situation isn’t bleak, but neither is it rosy.” She stops to collect herself. “Ann understands the possible outcomes, and she’s trying hard to process that right now. But I’ll tell you what, I have no intentions of losing her. I have to believe there’s a heart out there just waiting to be shared by someone who God calls home. When we go to the beach, we all just need to love her and allow her to enjoy it, and give her the peaceful, restful environment that she needs. The rest is in God’s hands.”
“Mom…,” Cade says hesitantly, as though unsure how to voice what he’s feeling. “I hope God has big hands.”
Chapter 2
Bree
MY ENTIRE LIFE is a solar eclipse. Have you ever seen one, when the moon passes between the earth and the sun, blocking out all of the glorious light? Yeah, that is so my life. I’m the sun, Ann is the moon, and she’s always getting in my way. It’s not that I’m not sympathetic to her very real, very unfortunate situation, but when will it be my turn to shine?
Mom and Dad say I have middle-child syndrome. I looked that up once, and I’m not so sure I do. I think I just have “undernoticed-child syndrome,” which is not even anything, ’cuz I just made it up, but it sounds like what I feel sometimes.
If I did happen to develop middle-child syndrome, though, I guess it wouldn’t be like a big shock or anything. I mean, everything about me screams “middle”! Even my name is in the middle, and not by coincidence. My parents named us alphabetically from oldest to youngest—Ann, Bree, and Cade. Recently, though, Dad joked that they actually named us after the letter grades we would earn in school. I laughed when he said it, but in retrospect, it isn’t very funny. Whatevs. I guess I should just be glad they didn’t name me Faith. And b-t-dubs, his name is Dell—with a big fat D—so the joke is on him.
It is early in the afternoon on Sunday, and I’m busily going through the mail…with a clothes steamer and a steak knife.
“What are you doing?” Cade is standing in the doorway, staring at me and my tools.
I knew I should have locked myself in the bathroom!