Baggage Burdens.

By Ken Saik

Jill Kreshky has not had an easy life, and the latest incident is no exception. She has been separated from her Ukrainian husband, Joseph, for six months when she is involved in a horrific car accident that leaves her seriously injured and lying in a hospital bed.

Desperate to find someone to care for her children while she recovers, Jill has no one else to turn to except Bill Wynchuk, a recently widowed friend who is burdened with guilt over abandoning his wife in her final months of life and his failure to save Jill and Josephs marriage. As Bill willingly steps in to help, Jill is transported back into her memories and to a dark time when she was forced to escape her alcoholic fathers beatings, find refuge with her grandmother, and ultimately marry a man she did not love. With Bill at her side, Jill embarks on a journey of recovery where she bravely faces haunting demons from the past and learns that psychological scars take the longest to heal.

Baggage burdens. shares the story of one womans quest to find healing, forgiveness, and peace after fleeing a life of abuse and unhealthy relationships.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532029585

Ken Saik

              Ken Saik, retired social studies teacher with the Edmonton Public School Board, was once a member of the executive of the Alberta Teacher’s Association. During that time, he became a member of the Greater Edmonton Association, a local pressure group working to improve housing for the poor. He enrolled in their training on “engaging people for political action.” In his latest book, The Caretaker, Ken Saik uses the lessons he learned to arm Steve, the story’s protagonist, to stop Walter Kohlberg, a developer, from converting a public park into a housing development for the rich.

Book preview

BAGGAGE

burdens.

KEN SAIK

71254.png

Baggage burdens.

Copyright © 2018 Ken Saik.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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www.iuniverse.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-2957-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-2958-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017914093

iUniverse rev. date: 06/04/2018

Contents

Acknowledgments

Jill’s Four-Generation Family

Rural Orthodox Community Church

(Key Members Alphabetically Arranged)

From Camrose United Church Key People

(Alphabetically Arranged)

Other Commonly Referenced Names, Alphabetically Arranged

Accident

Jill’s Children and Bill

Bill’s Haunting Past

Amber’s Turmoil

Commitment

Half-Aware

Real or Unreal Drifting Back

Help for Amber

Not Again

How Could I?

Julie—Hands Full

Can I?

Risky Return

Trust Mrs. Robertson

Mrs. Robertson Takes Charge

She Didn’t!

An Option

Meeting Grandmother at Last

Thanks, Josey

Not a Chance

A Camrose Home

Ed’s Early Three-Month Performance Review for Jill

Visit Jill?

A Date with Ben

Mary’s Revelation

Going out with Joseph

Joseph’s Revelations

Jill Dares to Trust Again

Marriage! No.

Marriage! Yes.

The Wedding Day, Perfect Almost

Adjustments

A New Christmas Tradition

Christmas Day

Preparing for a Special Day

Jill’s Challenging Changes

A Different Life

Ties between Jill and Daniel Loosen

Slippery Slope

Daniel’s Birthday Party

Granting Joseph’s Wish

Christine Kreshky

I Can’t!

How Could You?

Healing Efforts

Help for Jill

On the Road to Normal

Looking to the Future

Anniversary Surprise

In Hawaii

Makaha Beach Resort

Perfect Setting, Thinks Joseph

Diamond Head Challenge

Another Chance

Reconnecting

Homeschooling Amber, a Needed Success

Time to Try Again

Haunting Troubles

A New Special Occasion

Surprises

Christmas Successes

Surprise!

Joseph’s Actions Bear Fruit

Frustration Grows

A Hopeful Sign

You Asked

Joseph Prepares His Children

A Life-Changing Present

Getting a Mortgage Is Trying

Joseph’s Secret

Daniel Registers His Objection

Overcommitted

Joseph’s Premature Work Evaluation

What’s New Now?

New Year’s Changes

Eve’s Surprise

Squeezing Time for Family

Jill’s Not Ready

Exposed

Can’t Go Home

The Family Conference

Healing Strategies

Strengthen Family Ties

Celebrating Twenty-Five Years of Marriage

Family Fun

Bill’s Loss

New Deal

No!

Joseph’s Reality

Abandoned

Dead End

Recovery—Bill’s Turn

Family at Last

Catching Up on Life

Visiting Old Friends

A Breath of Fresh Air

Home at Last

Author’s Note

Excerpt from Helping Hands

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank the writers in the South East Edmonton Seniors Association and the Grant MacEwan University’s writers in the Blue Pencil Café for helping keep my ideas grounded in reality.

Mike Lee crafted the vision I had for the book cover. Then he enhanced it when I came up with additional ideas. His patience and artistic skill are highly appreciated.

Melle Huizinga, my creative writing instructor, Edmonton Fringe actor, and friend, poured many hours into my work. His insight into the structure and consistency of my novel picked up what others only reading a few chapters at a time couldn’t see.

Grammar was never my strong suit. Thankfully my publisher’s editors’ keen eyes polished this work so that people who love reading stories could easily understand what I created.

Most important is my wife’s patience and support. Because of my consuming passion to complete, rework, and polish again and again this novel, she accepted me withdrawing from many daily life responsibilities. Only when I handed the novel in to the publisher did I realize how many home care responsibilities were stacked on the back burner. Without her perspective that my writing was a hobby and not a financial investment, I might never have presented this book for publishing.

Baggage burdens, written by Edmonton author Ken Saik, is an exploration of the mystery of life, the effects of trauma, and the hope of healing. The major character, a woman in her forties, relives her traumatized life while in a coma caused by a traffic accident. Memories of her dysfunctional childhood and teen years reel past her, providing the reader with clues to her character and her inability to accept love and healing, even when she marries and provides a home for her children. She sabotages attempts to help in spite of her desperate search for meaning and normality. The best efforts of family, friends, and church community are not sufficient to overcome the scarring of adverse late-teen experiences.

This is a serious exploration of how life experiences can wound a person and trigger resistance to accepting professional expertise in the world of psychiatry. However, love, healing, and forgiveness are constant themes in the unfolding of the family history. Saik skillfully threads elements of hope and possibility throughout the novel. This is not a stark nihilistic worldview where people are condemned by fatalistic inescapability of their past. Baggage burdens celebrates the possibility of redemption from the dark forces that we encounter in our lives. This novel is a testimony to resilience and love.

Melle Huizinga

September 1, 2017

Jill’s Four-Generation Family

Josephine (Josey) Sommerfeld (born 1913)

George Sommerfeld is Josey’s husband.

Joan (Linda)—Josey’s daughter (born 1931)

Judy—Joan’s daughter (born 1953)

Julie is Judy’s daughter (born 1975).

Scott Wyller is Julie’s husband.

John-Ryan (born 2000) and Jeff-Roger (born 2004)—Julie’s children

(Janet) Alice—Josey’s daughter (born 1935)

Frank Rezley is married to Alice (born 1930).

(Joline) Kathy Rezley is Alice’s first daughter.

Larry is married to Kathy.

Jack and Joyce are Kathy’s children.

Jill (Lisa) Rezley is Alice’s second daughter (born 1963).

Joseph Kreshky married Jill in 1982 (born 1958).

Daniel—Jill’s first son (born 1984).

Eve is married to Daniel.

Daniel’s children are Sharon (2005), Shelly (2006), Shannon (2007), and Shawn (2009).

Amber—Jill’s first daughter (born 1992)

Christine—Jill’s stillborn baby (born 1993)

Sarah—Jill’s second daughter (born 1995)

Matthew—Jill’s second son (born 1998)

Rural Orthodox Community Church

(Key Members Alphabetically Arranged)

Croschuk Family

Thomas (married to Rebecca) Joseph’s best friends and neighbors

children

were Thomas Jr., Andrew, Martha, Simon, Grace

Hontsburg, Father Gordon

church’s priest

Polluck Family

Brian (married to Bertha), very conservative neighbors, raises horses

Nathan is Brian’s son, friend of Daniel’s.

Shopka Family

Martin (not married, raises horses, Joseph’s friend)

Starzak Family

Evan is married to Alice—have son, Stan.

Stan (Daniel’s good friend)

Wicksberg, Aaron

Fred’s brother (an electrician)

Wicksberg Family

Fred (married to Gertrude) is very conservative. Gertrude is very critical of Jill.

Eve is youngest of six children. She marries Daniel and is more accepting of people’s differences.

Uncle Mike

Joseph’s uncle who died and gave his farm to Joseph and Thomas.

From Camrose United Church Key People

(Alphabetically Arranged)

Prezchuck Family

Mary (married to Ed), bakery shop owners

Also Jill’s employer and landlord

Teemosky Family

Ann (married to Pete). Ann and Mary are sisters.

Ben is Ann’s son. Ben marries and has Chelsea and Megan.

Swanson Family

Walter (married to Ruth) is the minister in United Church, attended by Prezchucks, Teemoskys, Wyllers, and Kreshkys later.

Sunday school teachers—Christine, Ellen, Ada, Heather, and

Gloria (the Sunday school leader). Also Jill’s friends.

Williams Family

James is minister of United Church attended by Bill.

Other Commonly Referenced Names, Alphabetically Arranged

Alex

Amber’s boyfriend in Camrose

Bossard

Dave and Greg are brothers.

Crystal

Waitress at the Norseman Restaurant

Doctor

Russel—Jill’s personal physician

Walters—Jill’s hospital physician

Olsen, Rudy—Ed’s physician in Camrose

Harvey

Camrose cab driver who brought Jill to Mary

Olsen

John (married to Heather) is the owner of the construction company.

Employer for Joseph and later Daniel

Wynchuk

Bill (married to Donna), a psychologist whose wife dies of cancer

Volunteer counselor at the Wellness Center

Accident

G ive back my cell.

Lying flat on her back, Jill spits out each word over a fog of pain pulsing through her skull. A man in a black shirt kneels to her right, his face descending. Jill tries to turn away. A piercing pain shoots through her lower back and down her leg. Then a smaller black shirt descends from the other side. Lips move, but no words register. Jill closes her eyes and tries to wish away the emerging impression of overwhelming trouble.

Go away. Go away.

She squeezes her eyes tighter, hoping to drive the strange faces and the pain out of existence. A hand touches her forehead, and another picks up her left hand. Jill tenses; more pain surges through her back and legs.

This is a nightmare, a nightmare. Wake up. She attempts to regain control of her situation. Drained, Jill’s eyelids relax. I’ll open my eyes and see my bedroom ceiling.

Blackness envelops Jill—no sound, no time, nothing.

Distant, unrecognizable voices drift into Jill’s emerging consciousness along with a massive headache. Slowly, light makes its presence known. The unfamiliar white ceiling causes her to blink several times.

My bedroom? What’s going on? Where am I?

An attempt to glance to her left produces an involuntary groan. A strange face appears.

Hi, Mrs. Kreshky. I’m Lisa. I’m a paramedic. You’re in Saint Mary’s Hospital. We’re waiting for a doctor to come and take a look at you.

Hospital?

Yes. You were in an automobile accident.

That explains the pain.

Jill struggles to recall what happened.

I was driving, driving to school, driving to pick Amber up from the high school. Amber!

Jill opens her mouth, but her dry throat cuts her question short. What …?

A different face draws near. It’s larger. It’s a male, also wearing a black shirt with an EMS logo.

I’m Jim, a paramedic. My partner and I brought you to the hospital. Someone hit you on the driver’s side of the car.

Jill recalls being hit, but driving to school to pick up her children demands her attention.

Gotta call Julie.

Her dry, scratchy voice croaks.

My cell.

Julie is Jill’s young cousin, someone she completely trusts.

It’s right here, responds Jim, holding up her cell.

Jill tries to turn to face Jim and reaches for the cell. A collar around her neck and lower face restrains her. Her eyes widen in alarm. Inability to move produces panic.

Relax, says Jim. It’s only a collar. It’s there to protect you until we know if you have any serious neck injuries.

Overwhelmed, Jill lowers her arm.

May I make a call for you?

Jim’s full attention focuses on Jill.

Jill worries that she might not have the energy to say what she needs to. Conserving her strength, she thinks carefully. Use as few words as possible. Contact Julie, she instructs. Pick up Amber from school.

Jim flips open her cell. His fingers quickly select the contact list. He scrolls for Julie. Then he raises the cell to his ear.

Good. Amber will get her ride. She’ll get Julie to pick up Matt and Sarah. Then Julie can take them to her place until I can get out of here. Thank God I have Julie. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what I would do. She’s such a lifesaver.

Jim shakes his head and closes the cell.

No. She’s got to be there. I need her.

Jill desperately thinks of whom else she can call.

Joseph—no.

Joseph is Jill’s ex. They’ve been separated for more than six months. Divorce proceedings were completed two weeks ago. He made it very clear he has absolutely no intention of giving Jill another chance. He wants nothing to do with her ever again.

As Jim’s arm lowers to set the cell down, Jill reaches out. Pain twists her face.

Call again, she pleads. Leave a message. Call my cell.

As Jim follows her instructions, Jill considers whom else he could phone.

Daniel.

He’s her twenty-six-year-old son who has been married for seven years.

He could pick up his brother and sisters and then drop them off at Julie’s, reasons Jill.

The sound of Jim talking demands her attention. She strains to hear the tail end of his conversation. It’s a message for Julie to return the call as soon as possible. Before Jim can lower the cell, Jill says, Call Daniel, my eldest son.

Jill tries to sweep the pain from her head. She watches Jim nod and work his way through the contact list and place the cell to his ear. Afraid that Daniel won’t pick up, she reconsiders phoning Joseph.

They’re his children too. He should take some responsibility for them, especially if I can’t. That’s the least he can do.

Should I leave a message? asks Jim.

No.

She recalls Daniel doesn’t respond to her messages either.

Just as bad as his father.

He has taken Joseph’s side in the divorce. They’ve hardly spoken in the last half year.

Try Joseph.

Her voice doesn’t have the conviction of her earlier instructions.

My ex.

They haven’t spoken since their divorce. She also forgot that Joseph no longer has his cell.

How am I going to take care of my children? Who will pick them up? Sarah and Matt will be so alone. They’ll hang around the school until someone comes to pick them up. I know that. That’s what I’ve always told them to do, in case Mom has car trouble. But for how long?

Jill catches Jim looking at her. Only the last few words register. … a message?

No.

The word escapes her like a gasp for air, as if she’s swimming and desperately trying to reach the surface.

How can there be no options?

Anyone else?

Jill feels helpless. She can’t even shake her head. If she says no again, she’ll cry, an admission she can’t care for her family.

Jill hasn’t cried since she hid in the closet behind a cardboard box from her raging, drunken father. The memory of him kicking open her locked bedroom door makes her shudder. Jim’s voice breaks through her misery.

How about Bill?

He’s looked at her contact list again. Bill is at the top.

Images of Bill and Jill at a private college outside of Chicago hold her attention like a refreshing breeze carrying the light scent of blooming lilacs. For a few moments, Jill savors the summer evenings they shared sipping wine on the restaurant balcony.

About three years ago, their respective churches had sent each of them and a few others on a weeklong family conference. She loved the sessions on parents involved in their children’s lives. Bill had attended speakers on how the church can set up events for families to interact and have fun.

Conversations of the Albertans sitting around the dinner table sharing impressions of the sessions flowed back to Jill. They planned ways to implement the new ideas. Many times she caught herself supporting Bill’s proposals, something she didn’t expect since they attended different United Churches.

For a whole year, the glasses of white wine and balcony conversations continued to warm Jill’s heart. She found herself pining to attend another family conference. She and Bill had sat on the restaurant’s upper balcony. They’d looked down on the empty campus parking lot and talked. One of those evenings, he revealed his heavy burden of the long-term care of his wife who endured a losing battle with cancer. At times, her suffering made him wish to be on his acreage instead of sitting by his wife watching her silent body wasting away. Guilt stained his revelation. Touched by Bill’s openness, she offered words of comfort. They lifted his spirits. It was almost as if she’d taken him in her arms and hugged him.

Bill? repeats Jim.

Sure, she hears herself saying.

Images of Bill attending the Kreshky twenty-fifth wedding anniversary almost two years ago flash back. During the small, informal ceremony, Joseph and Jill had recommitted themselves to making their marriage work.

Then, like rain in the middle of an outdoor celebration, Jill’s confidence about calling Bill washes away. Betrayal engulfs her. She remembers Joseph’s revelation a couple of months ago—Even Bill understands why I feel I’ve come to the end of my rope with you. He agrees that I’ve been very patient with you. Jill looks up to stop the phone call, but it’s too late.

Jim thanks Bill for agreeing to pick up Amber.

Yes, and the other two children too, answers Jim. After a moment of silence, Jim asks Jill, Do you know Amber’s phone number? Bill wants to call her so she won’t worry about her ride.

Jim relays the number.

Relief and frustration swamp Jill. Amber will direct Bill to Sarah and Matt and then to Julie’s place. Julie will take good care of my children.

Mixed impressions of Bill bring a sense of foreboding. At the family conference, Jill judged Bill to be a very caring, patient, dedicated man. But during her separation, she thought she misread him.

He sided with Joseph!

Her assumption reinforces the impression that she lost her ability to judge men accurately. Recent failings flash by—her divorce, quitting homeschool teaching, getting a low-paying job, selling the house to meet budget problems, and now no car. Being in control vanishes. Now with the return of a man with whom she is not comfortable, her hopes of coping evaporate. She feels like she is caught outside in a storm with raging winds, loud claps of thunder, and bright flashes of lightning all around her.

What if Bill sees me as another troubled patient in need of his psychological help? He is retired. He’ll have all the time he needs to work with me. I’ll never get rid of him! I can’t handle another man. I failed with Joseph. I’ll fail with him. I can’t handle men. Where did I go wrong? Where did I go wrong?

A surge of pain drives out the thought. Jill drifts into a perceived safe haven. Hidden in darkness, she swims back to the kitchen with her mother. She hopes reviewing her past will reveal why she is plagued with so much tension, so much trouble.

Jill’s Children and Bill

T he paramedic’s phone call surprised Bill. What astounded him most was that the call was made at Jill’s request. For a while after his wife’s death in April, he had limited contact with anyone, including Jill and Joseph. The Kreshkys came to Donna’s funeral, and they offered their condolences. In the summer when Bill phoned them, only Joseph returned his calls. In October when Joseph called him, Bill learned that Joseph and Jill had separated. He offered to mediate. Later, Joseph agreed and gave Bill his work phone number. Again Bill called Jill. He left messages on her answering machine. She never responded. He sent a birthday card to Jill in December but received no response. There had been no word from her until now.

Will Amber still remember who I am? Has Jill said something about me that might bring about some kind of hostility?

Amber’s matter-of-fact response to his phone call relieves Bill’s anxiety. Telling Amber that her mother asked him to pick her up from school today produces the expected surprise and anxious questions: Why? What happened? Where is she?

All I know is that your mother asked me to pick you up, he repeats. We’ll talk more when I see you.

He reminds Amber that he drives a navy Ventura van and that he’ll be there in about twenty to twenty-five minutes.

I can’t do much more now, he mutters.

As soon as Amber sees his van, she waves and runs over, her light blue backpack gently bouncing up and down. Bill rightly suspects he would have had a hard time finding her in a crowd of high school students. Amber’s straight, shoulder-length hair is much longer than when he saw her last, and she’s blonde now. Amber looks through the passenger window to confirm with whom she is riding.

A precaution her mother taught her, thinks Bill. Jill’s always said to be very careful.

Clearly lined eyebrows, darkened eyelashes, large earrings, and a light lipstick make up a face he didn’t see when he last visited at her home.

I appreciate you giving us a ride like this, Mr. Wynchuk.

Like her mother, thinks Bill.

Jill often used that word: appreciate.

We’re picking up Matt and Sarah now?

Bill nods, and Amber gives him directions. He notes Matthew’s name is shortened to Matt now that Joseph has left.

You said paramedics called you? questions Amber.

Bill nods again.

Is Mom sick?

The paramedic didn’t say much. He just said that your mother was in an automobile accident, and she was hoping I would pick you up.

Amber’s jaw drops.

Mom’s too careful a driver.

How serious is it?

Amber looks at Bill for any body language.

He didn’t say. I figure it can’t be too bad because she identified me to help her. She must have given him other names first. You know—Julie, your father, maybe even your older brother. When the paramedic couldn’t reach any of them, they tried me.

Bill hopes his information reduces her tension.

Makes sense, responds Amber. After you called, I tried to reach all of them. There was no answer.

Not wanting to mislead her, Bill says, On the other hand, it has to be serious because he is phoning for her.

Let’s not tell Matt and Sarah. We’ll just say my mom’s sick.

Bill quickly agrees. It will save him from the same questions, questions for which he has little information. Amber gives him more directions to Delwood Junior High School. During the balance of the twenty-minute drive, Amber listens to songs from her iPod.

Upon arriving at Delwood, Amber unplugs from her iPod, steps out of the van, and shouts, Sarah. Matt.

When they look up from playing soccer with other children, Amber waves for them to come. They say goodbye to their friends and run to the sideline for their little schoolbags and then to the waiting van. Amber stays outside the van to greet them and explain the circumstances.

What happened to Mom? blurts Matt, half out of breath.

Yeah? follows Sarah.

She’s sick. She’s in the hospital. We’re going to see her next, replies Amber.

Bill realizes he didn’t say that they were going to the hospital. He concludes since Julie isn’t home, Amber’s statement is logical. It also occurs to him that he doesn’t know what he is going to do with the children after the hospital.

Hopefully by then I will have reached someone in the family.

Who’s that? queries Matt.

Mr. Wynchuk. You remember him? He used to come over and visit before … Amber couldn’t say, Mom and Dad broke up.

Oh yeah, responds Matt. He smiles.

Amber opens the sliding van door for her siblings.

Hi, Bill. How are you? Matt slides across the bench seat. Sarah follows and squeezes her schoolbag down on the floor by her feet.

Bill notes they listen to the older sister like they’re used to her being in charge. Okay, answers Bill. He’s a little surprised there was no negative remark about how long they had to wait. It’s been about an hour.

You know the way to the hospital, don’t you? Amber asks.

I do, answers Bill as he pulls away from the curb.

Amber returns to her iPod, Sarah pulls out a book to read, and Matt is fishing out Amber’s old cell. He plays games on it.

Quiet car with three kids! Unbelievable! he jokes. Good kids. Then he remembers Jill insists on silence when she drives, especially in rush-hour traffic.

When they reach the hospital, Bill checks with the person at the information desk. After receiving directions, he leads the way through the hospital’s maze of halls. Unwelcome memories of his wife’s long stay flood back. He looks at Amber and the two children following behind to force the past out of his mind. At station C, a nurse, busy writing at the counter, looks up to greet them.

May I help you?

We’ve come to see how Jill Kreshky is doing, he responds, noting the name tag on her white uniform. Margaret?

She nods. You family?

I’m just a …

Amber cuts in. She’s my mother. How’s she doing? Amber’s voice is a little louder than Bill’s.

Margaret hesitates, looking at the two children peeking up at the counter and Amber’s blinking eyes.

Please, persists Amber. Nobody’s told us anything.

Margaret suspects Amber is ready to break into tears.

Let me see if I can find the doctor, she responds. Just take a seat over there. She points to a number of dark green cushioned chairs arranged around a large, square, wooden coffee table. Then, looking at Bill, she asks, And your name is …?

Bill, he answers. Bill Wynchuk.

If you’ll take a seat, I’ll call you as soon as I find the doctor.

Amber notices that the nurse is looking right at Bill when she is talking, as if only he will be called.

Bill suspects a delaying tactic. Something’s very wrong. He herds the children to the designated area while Margaret goes to her desk and picks up the phone. Before sitting down, Amber pulls Bill aside. Keep me in the loop. I have to know how Mom’s doing. With Bill’s nod, Amber sits down.

Burdened by memories of sitting in the hall while the nurses tended to his wife, Bill drops into one of the armchairs and stares at the floor. When he looks up, he sees the charge nurse looking right at him. She gives a slight nod. Bill glances at the three children.

Sarah is reading again, and Matt is playing a game on the cell. Amber is nodding her head to the beat of a tune on her iPod.

Bill approaches the counter. A couple of seconds later, Amber stands beside him. Margaret frowns and hesitates.

I haven’t been able to reach the doctor yet. He’s busy with other patients. Margaret’s voice is very low, and they both strain to hear her. All I can tell you is that Mrs. Kreshky has had surgery, and she has come through it without any complications.

Amber cuts in. Surgery! Why? Can I see her?

Not right now. She’s in intensive care for—

Please. I need to see her. I need to know she’s all right.

Bill sees Amber’s impatient foot stamping.

I’m sure the doctor will be able to assure you that your mother will be okay. I’ll leave a message telling him it’s important that he talk to you. If you can return in a couple of hours, I’m sure he’ll set time aside to see you.

A couple of hours! Amber’s eyes widen.

Maybe if we go out for supper, that will help pass the time, suggests Bill. Then we’ll return to talk to the doctor.

Good idea, says Margaret.

Sensing nothing more is to be gained, Amber remains silent.

Come on, let’s see where Matt and Sarah would like to eat, says Bill. He glances at Amber. Did he redirect her thoughts? Reluctantly Amber nods.

How’s Mom? asks Sarah.

Amber hesitates, so Bill answers, Your mom is resting. The doctor’s did some work on her, and now she is sleeping. We thought we might get something to eat. By the time we come back, she should be awake.

Hospital food! exclaims Matt, excited.

No, Amber pipes up. Life emerges in her. I heard it’s yucky.

Staying in the hospital is the last thing Amber wants to do. Sitting there and not being able to see her mother would be torture.

Then what? persists Matt.

How about a pizza? offers Amber. I think there’s a Boston Pizza near here, isn’t there? Amber looks at Bill.

Uh-huh, responds Bill, momentarily distracted by Amber’s sly smile.

Mom said that’s not good for us, objects Sarah. Amber’s eyes narrow, and her head lowers slightly, inching forward like a dog preparing to attack. Sarah ducks, as if she is about to be hit. Okay, okay.

All right, rejoices Matt, eager to take on a new adventure.

Once again, the vehicle ride is silent. Amber reviews the disasters that struck her family recently. First Mom and Dad separate. I don’t even see Dad anymore. Now Mom is hurt. How bad? I don’t know. What can I do? Who can I turn to?

Amber fiddles with her iPod, then glances at Bill. He hasn’t seen how troubled she is.

I’ve got no one. Tears well up. What about Matt and Sarah? Who will they turn to? Will I have to look after them? What if we’re split up?

Bill’s lost in his own world. I thought I’d seen the last of hospitals for a long time. They suck the last ounce of energy, of life, out of a person, both patients and visitors. Now I have to return to it. A couple of minutes of self-pity spur a change. But who else does Jill have to turn to?

Matt edges within inches of Sarah’s ear. Something’s really wrong, whispers Matt, as if he’s sharing a secret only the two of them should know.

I know. Amber didn’t say anything after returning from the nurse’s desk.

And Mom never sleeps in the afternoon, adds Matt. Do you think she’ll be okay?

Sarah pauses for a while. I don’t know.

What should we do?

Be really quiet. And watch and listen, really carefully. If we’re lucky, they’ll forget we’re here.

Matt nods.

The four of them enter the Boston Pizza and are welcomed by the hostess. Would you like a booth or a table?

Bill is about to reply, Booth. He thinks it is a more private setting, more suitable given their circumstances. Before he can say anything, Sarah answers, Table, please. The hostess acknowledges the request and leads them to a table near a window.

Once seated, Bill asks, You don’t like a booth?

Mom always picks a table, answers Matt.

Yeah, I think she feels like she might be trapped in a booth, adds Sarah.

Trapped, recalls Bill. Same impression I had when we flew to Chicago.

At the get-to-know-each-other meeting before the family conference group flew to Chicago, Bill wished he’d be lucky enough to sit next to Jill on the plane. Upon examining the boarding passes at the airport, a smile of approval had graced his face.

Perfect, he thought. His was seat 25D; Jill’s was 25E. Now we’ll have an opportunity to get acquainted. His only regret was he couldn’t offer her the window seat as he had so often done for Donna. Jill was already assigned that seat.

Bill’s perfection perception shattered. After placing their carry-on bags above their seat, he stepped aside for Jill to sit down. Jill insisted on switching with Bill. His remark, that he was taller than she and he wanted the aisle seat to stretch out, resulted in her calling the stewardess to see if she could switch with someone else.

Afraid of creating a scene, he muzzled his initial reaction. For crying out loud, there are only two seats! What are you afraid of? He quickly silenced her second attempt to flag the stewardess by agreeing to switch. The cramped flight seemed preferable to Jill disrupting other passengers because he refused to trade seats.

His hidden frustration rewarded him. Jill’s guilt nudged her to apologize and to open a dialogue that lasted for the rest of the flight.

The Boston Pizza waitress cuts into Bill’s flight memory. Sir, are you ready to order?

Bill shakes the past out of his head.

Could I order a large Great White North? asks Amber.

Sure, agrees Bill. The waitress makes a note. And I’ll have a coffee, adds Bill. The server scribbles quickly and then looks to the children. Three just waters ring out.

No pop? exclaims Bill.

Too much sugar, Mom says, answers Sarah. The server leaves.

That’s right, recalls Bill. Jill never ordered coffee or pop at the conference. She even asked to make sure the tea was caffeine-free. A bit of a health nut, Bill thought at the time. But that’s okay.

Another Chicago memory invades Bill’s present. One evening he and Jill sat outside on the restaurant balcony. Jill surprised him by ordering a glass of white wine. A daring smile lit up her face.

Like Amber’s face when she suggested going to Boston Pizza, thought Bill. To him, Jill’s smile signaled a hidden desire to break free of some kind of restraint.

Tearing himself away from the intriguing reminiscence, Bill sees Amber talking on her cell. He can’t recall hearing it ring. From the one-sided conversation, he gathers that Amber is bringing Julie up to date. Amber hands the cell to Bill.

Julie would like to talk to you.

Hi, good to hear your voice, responds Bill.

Hey, thanks for coming to our rescue. Amber just told me what happened. I’ve been trying to reach Jill on her cell, but there is no answer.

No problem, answers Bill. His concern about how long he’ll be caring for the children starts to disappear.

I hate to do this to you, but could I impose on you a bit more?

Sure, what would you like?

Could you arrange to keep the kids there as long as possible, say for at least an hour? I’d like to reach the rest of the family to see how best to take care of the kids. And I also need to get a babysitter for John-Ryan and Jeff-Roger.

I’m sure dessert should do the trick, responds Bill with a grin.

Julie once again thanks Bill and hangs up. Bill returns Amber’s cell. During the remainder of the meal, Matt and Sarah talk about what they like at school and in sports.

When the server returns at the end of the meal and asks about dessert, Amber declines. She’s anxious to return to the hospital to see her mother. Bill enthusiastically suggests he’s ready for a scoop of ice cream with a generous butterscotch topping.

Me too, announces Sarah.

Do you have any other toppings? inquires Matt.

Chocolate, strawberry.

Matt chooses chocolate.

I guess I’ll have strawberry on mine, announces Amber.

Bill smiles. His strategy worked.

Bill and the children return to station C. A little more than two hours have passed since they left. Julie is already sitting in the waiting area. When she sees them arrive, she immediately stands up. After a few short greetings, Julie tells them Dr. Walters knows she is waiting to see him.

Meanwhile, says Julie, I would like to tell you about the plans for the balance of the evening. Daniel is already on his way. Julie looks at Amber to read her reaction. Amber, I’ve arranged with Daniel to take you in.

Amber’s disappointment is immediate. Julie cuts short the anticipated objection. I’ve just enough room to take Sarah and Matt. And I’m sure your mother wouldn’t forgive me if I let you stay at home alone. Sorry, Amber. Daniel said not to worry. He promised to take care of you. When we leave the hospital tonight, he’ll drive you home so you can collect a few things that you will need for the next few days.

Julie catches Matt and Sarah’s whispering. Squatting, she asks, Is that okay with you?

Oh yes, responds Matt, anticipating playing with John-Ryan and Jeff-Roger. Sarah nods in agreement.

A little more than half an hour passes. A male in a white coat approaches the nurse’s station. Bill looks for Nurse Margaret to signal him. A second doctor arrives. No signal. A middle-aged gentleman with a thick, close-trimmed beard and sideburns approaches the charge nurse. Their lengthy conversation leads Bill to suspect it is Dr. Walters. The doctor points to the storage room across the hall. Margaret nods to Bill. He touches Julie’s arm.

Julie looks at Bill, nods her understanding, and says, Just a minute. I need a word with Amber. Turning to Amber, she whispers, Will you stay with Matt and Sarah? I don’t want them to feel alone or wander off. Uncertain that Amber will comply, she adds, Please? When Amber nods, Julie stands up. As soon as Matt and Sarah look up, she says, I’ll be right back. I’m going to talk to the doctor. Amber will stay here with you. Content the children understand, Julie leads the way to the nurse’s station.

When Julie and Bill approach, Dr. Walters introduces himself. After confirming Julie is family and Bill a friend, he indicates that they will meet in the room across the hall. He apologizes for picking the storage room. It’s private and close to your children. The charge nurse says she’ll also watch out for them while we talk. He points to steno chairs in the nurse’s station and asks if they would like a chair. Julie and Bill decline his offer.

Once inside the room, he reassures them that the operation went well and there weren’t any complications. His voice is very low, and they both strain to hear him. But I can tell you Mrs. Kreshky’s situation is serious. She’ll need time to heal.

I don’t understand, interrupts Julie. Why did you have to operate? Was her leg or arm broken? I wasn’t told anything except that she won’t be going home right away.

I’m afraid it was more serious than that, he says. Mrs. Kreshky suffered from a subdural hematoma.

Sub what? asks Julie, clutching Bill’s arm.

Subdural hematoma. That’s a bleeding outside the brain tissue. A surgeon had to relieve pressure in Mrs. Kreshky’s head.

Julie’s legs fold. Both Bill and the doctor move to support her and direct her to sit on a large supply box to her right.

Let me assure you that the operation went well and Mrs. Kreshky should be all right, repeats the doctor. His confident voice calms Julie.

When can I see Jill? Julie asks, hoping to distract attention from her unexpected weakness.

Not for a while. Mrs. Kreshky needs bed rest. Seeing his answer fails to satisfy Julie, he adds, Friday, no … I believe I’m scheduled for Saturday. Let’s make it Saturday morning, say around eleven. I’ll look in on your aunt. She should be able to receive—

Amber rushes into the room.

Amber! Julie stands up. You’re supposed to stay with Matt and Sarah.

Amber looks at Julie, surprised to see her having to stand up. They’re okay. I told them not to move. Don’t worry. They won’t. Amber looks at Bill, then the doctor, and back to Julie. What’s wrong? Silence greets her request. Frustration drives her to demand an answer. I know something’s wrong. Tell me. I want to know. I can’t stand being left in the dark. Bill sees Amber’s impatient heel stamp.

Well, begins Bill, hoping someone will pick up his lead. Silence follows his initial response. Your mother had an operation. She experienced some internal bleeding in her head. The surgeon relieved the pressure— Tears flood Amber’s eyes and wash away the rest of Bill’s words.

But the surgery was a complete success, interrupts the doctor.

Julie steps between the two men and wraps her arms around Amber. When Amber stops sobbing, in a low voice she asks when she can see her mother.

The doctor says Saturday would be—

Saturday! exclaims Amber. She steps back from Julie and almost into Bill. I want to see her now. I have to see her now.

You don’t want to slow her healing down, do you? interrupts the doctor as he gently puts his hand on Amber’s shoulder. Your mother needs no distractions—isn’t her healing the most important thing?

Amber looks down at the floor, feeling like she acted like a little child. She nods. Julie picks up her purse from the floor and fishes out a tissue for Amber.

In a lower voice, Bill offers to pick up Amber from Daniel’s if Daniel can’t get away from work on Saturday.

Shouldn’t be necessary, responds Julie. Daniel is working in the city. He can drop Amber off at my place before he goes to work. I’ll just arrange for a babysitter for my boys.

Bill agrees, I’ll see you on Saturday.

When Bill returns to the hospital Saturday, Julie tells him Dr. Walters is reducing the medication that’s keeping Jill asleep. A nurse is sitting with Jill and will call the doctor as soon as Jill shows signs of coming around.

The wait is short. Dr. Walters approaches Julie and Bill.

You’re all here to see Mrs. Kreshky? asks Dr. Walters, recognizing everyone from the last time.

All except Jill’s oldest son, answers Julie. But if you’re ready, we’d like to come with you.

You’ll have to stand at the back of the room. I don’t know how Mrs. Kreshky will respond. If she has trouble breathing or struggles for some reason, I’ll have to put her under again until she’s much stronger. Seeing general agreement, he continues, You’ll approach her first. Alone, he instructs, looking at Julie. I don’t want her to be overwhelmed.

With that, they file off to Jill’s room, the doctor leading the way. They enter as if they don’t want to disturb a sleeping baby. A white-uniformed nurse stands by the bed.

Extra help in case something goes wrong, guesses Amber.

The heart monitor beeps steadily. An intravenous line is taped to Jill’s right wrist. A metal pole-like structure holds a plastic bag containing medication, which is slowly being pumped into Jill. Nasogastric tubes come from Jill’s nose.

I’ve never seen Mom so helpless. Amber’s eyes water. She misses the doctor’s wave to Julie to approach the bed.

Just try to relax, Mrs. Kreshky, says the doctor as Jill starts to open her eyes. You’re just recovering from an operation. I have someone who very much wants to see you. He signals for Julie to come closer.

Hi, Jill, Julie says with a slight smile. I want you to know I have everything under control. All the children are with me.

Bill quietly slips near for a better view. Jill’s eyes brighten; the corners of her mouth suggest the birth of a smile. Dr. Walters glances at the children, preparing to invite them to join Julie.

His movement grabs Jill’s attention. At the sight of the bearded face, she inhales quickly. Desperation clouds her face. She sucks gulps of air rapidly and tries to turn away. Her failed efforts result in a wild twitching. Within seconds, the doctor holds her down and signals the nurse to sedate Jill. Frightened by Jill’s unexpected response, Julie steps back into Bill. As Jill relaxes, the nurse directs Bill and Julie out of the room. Julie slowly leads the way to the door and signals for the children to follow.

Tugged by an overwhelming need to see Jill, Bill steps around the nurse and nears Jill’s bed. He whispers, Jill.

Sarah and Matt follow his lead to catch a closer glimpse of their mother. The children’s sniffing forces Bill to look around. He sees Sarah wiping tears from her eyes. Her crying reminds him of people crying as they passed by his wife’s coffin. Reality slaps a horrible thought—death is near. Nausea grips him. His hand covers his mouth. He prays death is not Jill’s fate. Hearing Sarah sobbing, he adds, Lord, please comfort these children.

The nurse and Julie rush forward. Each takes a child’s hand. With an arm around their shoulders, they lead them out of the room.

Bill files out of Jill’s room, ashamed of his thoughtless reaction. At the same time, he wrestles with the feeling—a hospital is where one comes to die. Desiring a place of comfort, he recalls the chapel at the far end of the hall. He apologizes to Julie for his behavior—Sarah’s tears fresh in his mind. Julie and the children leave. Burdened with guilt, he trudges down the hall to an all-too-familiar room.

Bill’s Haunting Past

B ill pauses before opening the chapel door. Images from a year ago flood back. Hanging on the wall opposite the wooden entrance is a softly illuminated cross. Two feet before it, a six-foot-wide sofa table stands guard, barring one from approaching the cross. A huge open Bible occupies the center of the table, commanding reverence. Tall artificial gladiolas to the left and a large glass vase usually holding dozens of red and white carnations welcome guests.

The first time he entered the room, it was silent. No one was there. He had felt like a trespasser. Fighting the feeling to flee, he took the pew nearest the door, closest to the aisle. Afraid to look up, he stared at the back of a scarred, dark-stained bench ahead. The room’s acceptance of the hand-me-down furniture comforted him. Feeling flawed too, he had confessed his drowning sense of hopelessness spurred by the visits with his wife.

Bill steps inside the chapel and replays Jill’s brief, frantic recovery. The doctor’s struggle to restrain Jill conveys Jill’s strong willpower. Bill cannot shake the impression he read in Jill’s face—fear.

A slow recovery, predicts Bill. Not again, he murmurs, remembering the challenge he endured in the last weeks of his wife’s life. He described Donna’s helplessness to his pastor. Then he admitted his inability to cope with not being able to help her.

Thinking he intends to stand by Jill during her hospital stay, Bill decides, I can’t do this. I need help. With that admission fresh in his mind, he takes two steps forward and looks around. The physical environment matches his expectation. Not a soul in the room. Out of the emptiness from the front, the glowing cross attracts his attention. As if drawn by a campfire on a cold night, Bill shuffles slowly forward. His walk soothes him, as it did in the last week before his wife died. He remembers asking for and receiving strength.

Reaching the front pew, he sits down. Almost as if I never left. Bill leans forward, placing both arms on the top of the wooden rest separating the pews from the burgundy carpet, which stretches in between the sofa table and the wooden barrier. He rests his forehead on his arms, as if it’s too heavy. Eyes close to shut off the tears that try to wash away painful memories and the prospect of having to relive another hopeless situation. He prays.

Dear Father, thank you for helping me through Donna’s illness; for granting me time to hide on the acreage after her death; for calling me do some counseling with the Carson Wellness Center and visiting people in the church again. I had hoped it would fill the void in my life. It hasn’t. There’s been no joy, no reason for doing anything. I have no one to share my work with. Then I got this call from Jill. I thought she was gone, gone like Joseph. When I couldn’t reach her, I naturally figured that was it. She was out of my life forever, if she was ever really in it.

He pauses, shakes his head.

Should I be back in Jill’s life? Could I be of any help to her? I couldn’t do anything for Donna.

Donna’s last two months grip Bill. Perspiration seeps into his shirt as he relives the frustration and embarrassment of failing his wife.

No change, no improvement, not even an effect of his presence helped her. I’ve helped so many people at work and at the Wellness Center. There I could make a difference. But when it comes time to help Donna, I’m useless. I can’t do a thing.

Frustrated, he had dared to wish he were on the acreage tending the flowers, the bushes, the garden. He hoped by nourishing Donna’s garden, God’s garden, the doctors would be able to find a way to save his wife. He prayed fervently for God’s intervention. As the cancer continued to eat away at her body, he questioned whether his faith was strong enough to save his wife.

In the end, he found sitting in nature’s living environment calming. Looking at her unresponsive body drained him. To compensate, he thought of the flourishing life around his yard. It was a sign of hope. But when he caught himself wishing to be back in the yard, he felt like an unfaithful husband. Guilt burned shame and imposed silence when he came to visit Donna. His audible silence screamed—Donna’s end is near.

In her last month, he stayed by her side all day, hoping to catch her in a conscious moment. When he went home to sleep, the neglected gardens accused him of being unfaithful to them.

Turning his thoughts to Jill, he questions what good he could do for her. He continues to pray.

Jill did so much for me. How can I return that comfort if she’s unconscious? Should I even be here?

Memories of the family conference take hold.

Jill was so accepting. I told her things I couldn’t even say to myself, I couldn’t even tell you, God. I don’t know why I felt I could trust her. But I was right. I told her that even though Reverend Williams convinced me to go to the conference, I still felt like an abandoning husband. Jill didn’t see me as a monster. She listened to me, talked with me, made me feel—he pauses, searching for words that described his feeling—like I was a good man, a valuable person who had much to offer. What a relief! I could only conclude she was a gift from you.

How can I not be here for her now? I owe her, especially after I failed to help save her marriage. Where did I go wrong? When Jill didn’t return my calls, should I have been more persistent? I thought she wanted nothing to do with me. Was I wrong? Did Joseph come to me too late? All I know is I lost two friends. I should have been able to do something.

It can’t be an accident that out of the blue, Jill called me. She was in trouble. Why else would she call? Am I being given a second chance to help her? But what can I do? Her problems are medical. That’s beyond me. All I can do is ask you to grant her healing. Grant her healing soon. And I promise if she needs me, I’ll stand by her. I won’t abandon her like I did Donna. Lord, please help us.

After several minutes of silence, Bill walks to the door. Seems warm. Should’ve taken off my sweater. He opens the door and steps out.

• • •

Late Thursday afternoon, five days after Jill’s accident, Bill brings himself back to Saint Mary’s Hospital. Originally, he planned to visit Jill the day after the accident.

The whole family will probably be there, he rationalized. I’ll only be in the way. She will be too exhausted to see me anyway.

Over the intervening five days, Bill occupied himself with his regular routines. Spring yard work absorbed some of his time. The afternoon volunteer counseling at the Carson Wellness Center failed to distract him from Jill’s plight. Torn between visiting Jill and reliving hospital life, he finally accepted the latter as the reason preventing him from going to the hospital. He phoned to see if Jill has been released. If she’s gone, I’ll know I wasn’t meant to see her again. He paused. The possibility disturbed him. Jill, please still be there.

Margaret, the charge nurse, confirms Jill’s presence.

Good, he thinks. I can’t lose this chance to reconnect with her.

How’s she doing?

Virtually no change. Dr. Walters is hoping she’ll be much better by the end of the week.

Always a word of encouragement, even if there isn’t much hope, recalls Bill, thinking of Donna. Better to face reality early.

Hearing his skeptical, Yeah, Nurse Margaret reminds Bill, Jill is in excellent physical health. Bill recognizes he is letting Donna’s final months taint his perspective. He vows to remember Jill’s circumstances are different.

Jill has a very strong will. That alone can bring her around.

He senses there’s something of value that he has to offer Jill, but he has no idea what it is.

Amber’s Turmoil

A s Bill approaches Jill’s room, he sees Julie squatting and talking to Sarah and Matt. Her serious face holds the children’s attention. Bill’s too. He hangs back waiting for her to finish. As Bill approaches Julie, she turns and rises effortlessly.

Bill! Am I glad to see you!

The swiftness with which Julie’s smile replaces her serious expression surprises Bill. He suspects she’s attempting to minimize her problem.

Julie looks back at Sarah and Matt. Just wait here for a minute while I talk with Mr. Wynchuk. When the children nod their understanding, she walks up to Bill and guides him back down the hall.

Something wrong?

Julie glances back and confirms Sarah and Matt are where she left them. Then a serious face turns to Bill. Would you do me a little favor? Seeing Bill nod, she continues. Would you stay with the children for a while, say half an hour? Maybe take them down to the cafeteria?

Sure. Could you tell me what’s wrong?

"It’s Amber. She’s sitting in the room with Jill right now. She’s really messed up. Julie shakes her head. I’ve got to talk to her. Julie checks to make sure that Amber isn’t coming. Alone, she adds. She and Daniel— Julie pauses. Never mind. I’ll handle it."

Is Daniel around?

He was. Daniel and Amber came before I arrived. Daniel said he has a little running around to do. She takes a deep breath and adds, Amber wants to stay with me.

Bill nods, guessing Julie’s dilemma. Don’t worry about Matt and Sarah. I’ll take care of them. Just call me on my cell if you need more time. Or if you want some help.

Thanks so much. I’ll tell the children you’ll take them down to the cafeteria. Maybe get them some ice cream or something.

When Julie finishes telling Matt and Sarah about the arrangements, they walk over to greet him.

Bill admires Matt’s always-positive, energetic nature.

I understand you might like to see the hospital cafeteria? Sarah’s interest doesn’t equal Matt’s, but she seems agreeable. Together they walk to the elevator. You haven’t seen the cafeteria yet?

No, says Matt.

Been to see your mother every day?

Just today, answers Matt.

Really! He expected Julie would have brought the children to see their mother at least every other day.

When we asked about visiting Mom, Aunt Julie said she can’t get a babysitter, adds Matt.

Scott, Julie’s husband, is welding up north.

Julie’s home alone with the four children.

They ride the elevator in silence and enter a large room with many empty tables. Two-thirds of them are roped off. Only about half a dozen people are sitting at round, wooden tables with four chairs neatly tucked. Bill notes that Matt quickly whispers a few words to Sarah.

Probably for Sarah to be more social, he guesses.

Bill isn’t concerned about Sarah’s sadness. He understands where she was coming from, but he also knows that being pleasant in company’s presence is an expectation of Jill’s.

Like some ice cream?

Okay, Sarah and Matt say at once.

The lady at the till apologizes for only having vanilla. We’ve no cones or toppings either.

They each receive a big scoop in a bowl and sit down at one of the tables farthest away from the till. For a while they pick at their ice cream in silence.

You’re really worried about your mom, aren’t you?

They both slowly nod.

She sleeps all the time, comments Sarah, looking up.

That’s what Aunt Julie tell us, adds Matt.

Yes, the nurse tells me that too.

She sure needs a lot of rest, Sarah adds, as if she’s thinking out loud.

Guess that’s because her body is really hurt. Must have a lot of repairing to do. Something like when Amber had the flu. Remember how she had to stay in bed for a long time so her body could use all its energy to rebuild itself?

But why doesn’t Mom move? questions Matt.

That’s because the doctor has given her medicine so she will sleep. If she knew you were here, she would do her best to talk to you, maybe even hold you in her arms. The doctor wants her to use all her strength for healing. Understand?

I think so, replies Matt.

Sarah nods too.

Hope Mom recovers soon, mumbles Matt.

They poke at their melting ice cream. Still doesn’t stop you from worrying though, does it?

No, they answer in unison.

Bothered by their melancholy mood, Bill wonders how he can reassure them that Jill will be all right. For a while, he watches them slowly pick at their ice cream. Going through the motions, he thinks.

Bill recalls being a dinner guest at the Kreshkys’. The children took turns saying their memorized prayers. Dare I suggest they pray for Jill’s healing and their peace of mind?

I know something that may help. When they look up at him expectantly, he asks, "Do you pray?’

For Mom? Yes, answers Sarah.

For yourselves? continues Bill, grateful for their openness.

For us?

To take your worries away.

Really? asks Matt.

The children shake their head.

Would you like to pray for the confidence of knowing that God will make everything okay?

Here? asks Matt.

We can pray anywhere. God will hear us.

Sarah and Matt hold each other’s hands just like they do at the supper table. They each extend their other hand to Bill.

And can we pray for Amber too? asks Sarah. I don’t know what’s wrong, but something’s really bugging her. When Daniel left from the hospital, Amber whispered something to Aunt Julie. After that, we came out in the hall without Amber. And Aunt Julie asked us to be super nice to Amber, not to bother her in any way. We hadn’t even done anything.

And now they’re talking secretly, adds Matt.

We certainly can. Bill takes each of the children’s hands, and they all bow their heads. In a low voice so that only Matt and Sarah can hear, Bill begins. Dear Father, thank you for loving and caring for us in so many ways. There’s one need that is really important to us.

Bill pauses, realizing he made a slight error. Well, more than one need. We desperately want Matt and Sarah’s mother to get well soon, real soon. Help us to feel confident that you are in control, that you will make everything better. Also help Aunt Julie to solve Amber’s problem, whatever it is. Please calm our worrying spirits. We ask all this for Amber, for Sarah, for Matt, and for me. Thank you.

Amen, comes from Matt and Sarah together.

Does that really help you? asks Matt.

Most of the time, responds Bill. He watches the children continue to sample their ice cream. Glancing at his watch, he notes twenty-five minutes have passed since he left Julie. Wanna go back to your mother’s room?

Matt and Sarah nod with more energy than they showed eating.

When Bill and the children arrive at Jill’s door, there is no one around. They enter her room. The medical equipment fades into the background as they stare at Jill’s helpless body lying on the bed. A beige sheet covers her almost to