He’d sell the house, for sure. He’d never be able to stay there without his wife, and it was too much space for just him and Jessie- especially since Jessie would likely never really move back. He knew how serious she and Adam were; surely a wedding would follow on the heels of graduation.
A &A would shut down, certainly. It was built around Savannah; without her at the helm it was pointless. It was a ministry for women; Shaun would not be able to do what she did, and Jessie had no interest in being involved – had no interest in the ministry at all, period.
Though at least with A &A gone and the house sold the debts would all go away. What a relief that would be, to have that monkey off his -
“What am I doing?” He said the words aloud, shocked at the turn of his thoughts. “God, I didn’t mean it. I would never trade Savannah just to get out from under this mess. It’s all my own fault. She shouldn’t have to pay for it.”
Another thought ignited panic. “This isn’t all because of me, is it? God, I’m sorry. Please, don’t take her. Don’t let her die.”
A noise behind him made him turn. A chaplain stood at the back, and Shaun’s chest tightened with embarrassment. How much had he heard?
“I’m sorry to disturb you. I did a service in here earlier and think I left my glasses on the podium.” He gave Shaun a friendly smile as he passed him on the way up to the simple wooden podium at the front of the chapel. “Ah, bingo.” He pocketed the glasses and walked back to Shaun. “I’m Reverend Hutchinson. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“My wife – she just went in for a heart transplant, and I’m-” Shaun didn’t know what to say. I’m cheating her ministry out of money at every turn so I can keep someone quiet and keep my kid in college? “I’m feeling… desperate.”
The reverend sat in the pew in front of Shaun and turned to face him. “Can I pray for you?”
He’d gotten plenty of prayer in the waiting room. He didn’t deserve any more. “No thanks,” he said as he stood. “Just pray for my wife.”
He left the chapel and headed back to the waiting room, but the strains of everyone singing made him turn around. He was definitely not in a worshipful mood. He followed the signs to the foyer where a bank of vending machines provided snacks and drinks. He could still hear the music, but hearing it wasn’t as bad as having to participate in it. He slotted some change for a coffee, then sat at one of the tables and let the minutes tick by as he chanted
He rested his head on his folded arms and eventually began to doze, only to awaken with a start sometime later, panicked that he’d missed something. The music down the hall was gone. He checked his phone for the time and saw that the surgery had been going for four hours. He took his coffee, now cold, back to the waiting room and found most of the visitors had crashed out on the couches. Jessie and Adam were playing cards; Mary was knitting in the corner, a blanket with various shades of purple cascading from the needles; and John sat at a table with his Bible and a notebook. Those who were awake acknowledged him when he returned, but thankfully said nothing to him as he made his way to an empty couch and settled into its corner. The chant picked up again in his mind as he closed his eyes, and for the next few hours he dozed off and on before finally succumbing to a deep sleep.
He was awakened by Tammy gently calling his name and shaking his shoulder. His eyes flew open when it finally registered who she was.
He jumped to his feet. “What’s happening?”
She smiled. “Surgery is done, and she did great. It’s over now. Savannah has a new heart.”
CHAPTER 6
SAVANNAH SAT ON THE COUCH, HANDS WRAPPED AROUND A MUG of tea as she stared at the trees. It was all she’d done since coming home three days ago, and she was frustrated by how little things had changed. Hadn’t she been doing this before going into the hospital? When was the new heart going to kick in and give her some energy?
She had been warned about the emotional roller coaster that came along with a new lease on life, about the depression that came with knowing someone had to die so you could live. She’d known it beforehand, of course, but with the evidence housed in her chest, she had trouble not dwelling on it. The concept was obviously familiar, and she’d expected to feel a lot more gratefulness toward Jesus for his sacrifice after this experience, but instead she just felt… angry.
She tried not to overanalyze her emotions. “Everyone processes their transplants differently,” Tammy had assured her at a recent checkup. “Just go with it, let yourself feel what you feel. It’ll all even out eventually. But it takes time.” It had been a relief to hear she wasn’t some emotional freak; but even so, she had expected to feel like herself again, and she didn’t-and that was maddening.
Her Bible sat beside her on the end table, the bookmark still in the Psalms. She’d picked it up every day, even opened it a few times, but reading felt like a chore and the verses weren’t alive for her like they had been before the surgery. Every now and then she’d imagine herself approaching the throne of Heaven, the image she’d often used in her younger years to get her mind in the right state for prayer, but later she’d realize her thoughts had wandered and she’d never actually prayed anything. She’d center herself and try again, but “thank you” didn’t seem strong enough given the magnitude of the gift, and she felt guilty praying about anything else. She longed for that brilliance she’d felt in the days before the transplant, when God had been as real and close as her own self. Now she just felt alone, and she resented that the mountaintop experience had been so short-lived.
She took a slow sip of the tea after waiting just long enough that she wouldn’t scald her tongue. The heat streaked down her throat but died in her chest, as though swallowed up by ice-which is what her chest felt like these days: as though a snowball sat in its center. Her cardiologist chuckled when she described it. “I haven’t heard that one before.” She didn’t appreciate that he didn’t seem to take it seriously.
She thought she’d feel a lot better if she could just get the energy to
Shaun kept telling her to get her laptop out and get back to work on the book she’d started to brainstorm in the hospital. She’d managed to get the whole book’s outline done before growing too weak to work, and at the time she’d been quite pleased with its depth. But she’d made the mistake of mentioning it to her agent when talking to her the week after her surgery, and the agent had called two days ago to tell her they had a contract for the book. “Didn’t even need to see a proposal,” he said with a laugh. “Just happened to mention it to the publisher over lunch and they begged for it. Now, they don’t want to set a deadline for you, because they know you’re still recovering and don’t want you stressing out over finishing it. But the sooner the better, of course, to capitalize on the buzz. It would be ideal if we could get it on the shelves by the end of October.”
She knew her agent didn’t mean to sound heartless. But she couldn’t help feeling hurt by him and her publisher taking such a materialistic view of her personal suffering. She understood the nature of the business, but it didn’t change the fact that it made her mad. Maybe that was why she was balking at working on the manuscript.
Savannah made another cup of tea, then opened her laptop. She briefly thought of launching the word processing program, but clicked instead on the internet browser. She never spent much time online, save for doing email; she’d never felt comfortable navigating the nebulous World Wide Web. But on a whim she went to a search engine and entered “heart transplant support” just to see what would happen.
She hadn’t expected over seven million returns for the search, and laughed aloud when she saw the number. This would certainly keep her busy.
She scanned the first ten returns and clicked on one that said something about a forum. She found herself at a message board, something she’d never interacted with before. It took her a minute to figure out what it was, but once she made it into the forum and saw the list of threads, a smile spread wide across her face. Post after post from people just like herself filled the screen. She began to click each one in turn, reading them voraciously. Finally,
