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 do something. She’d lost so much time during her illness; it was driving her crazy to lose so much more. She’d envisioned the new heart being like a new engine in a run-down car, thinking she’d jump back into life and make up for all the days she’d spent on the sofa and in the hospital. But here she was, almost three weeks post-op and only slightly less sluggish than she’d been in the days before her collapse. The problem was that her brain was ready to get back in the game; it was her body that didn’t have the stamina.
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, people who understood what she felt, what she’d gone through! People who didn’t keep telling her how blessed she was, which made her feel horrible for not feeling more happy. She lost track of time as she read, and jumped when the doorbell rang.
“Surprise!” Her girlfriends stood on the front porch with balloons and a cake. Their festive mood mirrored the refreshing lightness she felt after reading the forum, and she welcomed them in with far more gratefulness and joviality than she would have had they come before she’d gotten online.
“You guys are sweet, thanks. Oh – that cake is too funny!”
Andi set the two-tiered, heart-shaped cake on the kitchen counter. “It’s strawberry, and none of us could recall if we’d ever seen you eat strawberry cake, so we decided to take a chance.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will be delicious.” Honestly, she wasn’t a fan of the flavor, but she wasn’t going to admit that after all the trouble they’d gone through. She got a knife from the drawer and wielded it above the frosting. “I much prefer being on this end of the slicing.” They laughed as she cut pieces for everyone, then Mary poured sparkling cider for everyone and they toasted to Savannah’s health.
When she took a bite of the cake, she was stunned at how delicious it was. “Oh my gosh, this is heaven.”
Colleen grinned. “So you do like strawberry cake.”
Savannah took another bite. “Well, I’ll confess I usually don’t. But this is… wow.”
“I’ll give you the recipe.”
“So how is it to finally be home?” Bethany asked between bites.
“Good. Not like I was expecting, but better than being in the hospital.”
“How is it not like you expected?”
“I just thought I’d be back in the swing of things sooner. I didn’t think I’d still be feeling this blah.”
“How long is it supposed to be until you’re back to normal?”
She shrugged. “They don’t know. Some people have more energy, some people never really get back to how they were. It’s just a waiting game to see which way I’ll go. Though these days I have my fears that I’ll fall in with the latter.”
Andi set her plate aside. “So is it weird, knowing a piece of someone else is inside you?”
The question made her squirm. “Um, well… yes.” Though these were her closest friends, she still had trouble talking about the details of the surgery. Even Shaun hadn’t asked questions like that yet. And if he had, she wasn’t sure she’d have answered honestly.
“Can you tell it’s someone else’s? Does it feel different?”
Bethany rolled her eyes. “It’s a heart, Andi. How many ways can it feel?”
“Well, I don’t know, maybe it’s one of those things that you don’t notice until someone goes messing around with it.”
Savannah wasn’t about to admit that yes, it did feel different, and she was acutely aware of it every minute of the day. “I notice it… sometimes… but it might just be the healing from the surgery.”
Mary nodded. “That would make sense. How are you healing up?”
“Just fine, according to the doctor.” She didn’t want to get into how she felt like she was still laid open on the table, at least emotionally, or how the scar running the entire length of her torso would never allow her to forget, no matter how much she wanted to.
Colleen gave Savannah’s shoulder a squeeze. “So the only thing left is to get you back to regular speed and everything will be fine.”
Andi put an arm around her shoulder. “God will take care of you. We’ll start praying that you’re renewed to your old self, or better.”
The comment rubbed her the wrong way, though she didn’t know why. She forced a smile. “Thanks.”
“You know,” Mary said to the others, “maybe the four of us could organize a little prayer team for Savannah. We should have started one back when she first got sick, but I don’t think any of us realized how bad it was going to get. Like you, Savannah, we all figured it was just the flu. And then things went downhill so fast…” She waved away the memory. “Anyway, the four of us, let’s do it. Once a week, we’ll pray over you, and commit to praying for you every day until you’re back to how you were.”
“That’s really sweet, but-”
“I love it!” Bethany said. “How about we meet at my place for coffee next Thursday around ten? Does that work for you, Savannah?”
“Um, I’ll have to check-”
“Why don’t we all check and email Bethany with our availability,” Colleen suggested.
“Perfect,” said Bethany.
“You know who we should invite in on this?” said Mary. “Arlene Wilkins at church.”
Andi nodded. “Oh, yes, she’s such a prayer warrior.”
“I’ll give her a call tonight and see if she’d be able to make it.”
“Great idea!”
Savannah withdrew from the conversation, irritated and feeling like a project for them to pounce on. She thought back to the conversation with Shaun when she’d suggested having Pastor John meet with them for accountability. Now she understood why he’d been so opposed to it. Hearing people talking about her in a spiritual way made her feel exposed.
She kept herself busy eating cake so she wouldn’t have to talk. A second slice came in handy for that-though admittedly she’d have taken another one anyway, it was so good-and she contributed noncommittal “Mm-hmms” for the next ten minutes while hoping they’d all leave. The goodwill she’d been feeling when they arrived wore off quickly, and now she was just eager for them to go so she could get back to reading her support forum.
After half an hour they still showed no signs of leaving, so Savannah made the decision for them. “Well, I have a doctor’s appointment in twenty minutes, so I should start cleaning up and get going for that.”
“Oh, of course,” Mary said as they all stood. “I’ll bet you’re at the doctor a lot these days.”
“Yeah, they’re keeping close tabs, as you can imagine.”
They took turns giving Savannah hugs, then filed out the door. “Thursday at ten, don’t forget,” Bethany said as she walked down the porch stairs.
“Yes, I’ll let you know about that.” She stayed at the door for a moment, not wanting to look impolite, then shut it and sagged onto the couch, exhausted.
She loved her friends, she really did, but this was beyond the scope of their understanding. They couldn’t possibly fathom the way this experience had turned her inside out in every possible way. She could barely understand it herself, and she was the one living it. They couldn’t know how personal those questions were, and how disturbed she was by their answers.
But the people on the forum could.
She continued to read, indulging in another slice of cake, until Shaun came home. “That looks like it was good,” he said, eyeing the crumbs on the empty cake plate.
“It was. Sorry I didn’t save any for you. I couldn’t stop eating it.”
“That’s alright. Guess I’m on my own for dinner then?”
She smiled. “I think so, yes.”
“I take it you had a visitor today, then? Who brought it?”
“The girls.”
“All four of them? That was sweet.”
“Yes. All four of them.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did it not go well?”
She shrugged. “It’s not that it didn’t go well… I just don’t think I was ready for so many visitors asking so many questions.”
He nodded and gently wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s alright.”
“So did you find any time to start working on the book again?”
She fought the defensiveness that rose in her chest. “No. I was busy.”
“How long were the women here for?”
“Not with them – I found an online support group for transplant recipients. It’s been really wonderful reading all their stories, hearing how much we all have in common with our recoveries -”
He chuckled. “You’re not going to become an internet junkie now, are you?”
“Well, if spending time trying to help myself understand what I’m thinking and feeling and trying to get back to my life before all this happened constitutes being a junkie, then yes, I might.”
He gave her a look. “I was just playing, Van. I wasn’t being serious.”
She deflated a bit. “I’m sorry. I’m just feeling…” She shook her head and shrugged. “Never mind. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” She left the kitchen for the sofa and pulled the computer back onto her lap.
“Honey, I’m sorry.” Shaun followed her and sat beside her. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll get a chance to start writing. I really think it will help if you get back in the saddle. It’ll all come back to you. You’re wallowing a bit, I think, and it’s totally understandable; but maybe if you start focusing outward instead of inward you’ll start feeling better.”
She shut the laptop with more force than she intended. “Quit trying to diagnose me. You’re no psychologist, and you have no idea what it’s like to be me right now.” She pushed herself to her feet, shaking off Shaun’s attempt at helping her stand, and headed to her office with more speed than she’d managed since coming home.
She was dying to tell him what she was really thinking, to finally get it off her chest, but she couldn’t voice those thoughts aloud. How could a ministry president like herself admit how angry she was with God right now, how the very thought of his goodness and provision made her want to laugh? Especially when she didn’t understand it herself. Knowing a book was expected from her on the subject made her panicky; she fought that by simply not thinking about it and hoping she’d wake one of these mornings and find those feelings gone.
But so far the mornings only brought more anger and confusion.
JESSIE ZIPPED HER DUFFEL AND TEXTED ADAM.
Ready when u r.
Her stomach fluttered; she took another bite of the sandwich she’d brought back from the cafeteria at lunch and hoped it would give her insides something to do besides reflect her anxiety. This was a new experience, being nervous about going home.
Savannah’s transplant had happened three weeks ago, and Jessie hadn’t been back to visit since that night. She’d almost gone a number of times, but something always stopped her-a project she needed to work on, a meeting she couldn’t miss. Her own nerves. She knew she was being a terrible daughter by not going to visit her mother in the hospital, and now that Savannah was home the guilt was even worse. But Jessie’s remorse over their last conversation held her back.
She should have just kept her mouth shut. What had led her to believe it was wise to try changing the past by confronting a dying woman with her shortcomings? It had solved nothing, had led to no reconciliation, and had only added to the stress her mother was already dealing with as her body betrayed her. Jessie had planned on at least apologizing when she’d visited Savannah before moving to campus, but her mother had only lasted a few minutes before falling asleep, and Jessie had been so disturbed by Savannah’s deterioration that she’d left rather than wait for her to wake. And now she had to go back home and face her again, knowing she’d been selfish in the face of her mother’s decline.
Her phone buzzed.
Ready in 20 or so. Will txt u.
Her nose wrinkled as she looked for something to keep her occupied and her mind off the impending visit. Not enough time to start homework, and too much time to just sit around. She woke her computer instead and tapped in a URL.
Last week she’d stumbled across this website while doing research for her child development class. It was a forum for Christian moms, and while she was nowhere near motherhood, she’d found herself sucked into the message board and had gone so far as to apply for membership. An entire subforum was devoted to developing the parent-child relationship, and reading it was like applying antibiotic to a wound: painful, but healing.
Ever since her relationship with Adam had gotten serious, she’d had motherhood on the brain. Not because she was looking forward to it, but because it scared her. What if she passed on the brokenness of her own mother-daughter relationship to her children? What if she didn’t know how to be the kind of mom she’d always wanted Savannah to be, precisely because Savannah hadn’t been able to model it for her? The posts she read in the forums eased some of her fears, because so many of the other women were doing what she’d eventually have to do-working out from scratch what it meant to be the kind of mother they’d never had.
The forum also gave her something she rarely had: anonymity. All they knew was what she told them, and so far she hadn’t told them much. Her screen name – Mom-In-Training – gave nothing away, and instead of her own picture she posted an image of a sunflower on her profile. The best part was being able to post her frustrations about her relationship with her mom without worrying about how it affected Savannah’s reputation. She hadn’t gone into much detail, but what little she’d shared had been met with encouragement and messages of commiseration, and with the help of some other women who had weathered similar struggles she’d made a plan for this weekend.
Coming as close as she had to losing her mother had convinced her she needed to make things better between them-she just had to work a bit on how she went about it. Honesty was important, yes, but her own response and attitude was even more so. It was unrealistic to think that one vulnerable and emotionally open conversation on her part was going to make Savannah change her tune. She had to be consistent with her honesty but also grace-filled in her acceptance of her mother’s response; after all, Jessie knew what to expect from her mother. Rather than fighting against Savannah all the time, Jessie was going to try to model the kind of responses she hoped to get from Savannah and not let herself get worked up when her mother’s reaction wasn’t what she wanted.
It was an approach that looked good on paper. She just wasn’t sure how it would actually play out.
She posted to various threads on the message board until her phone buzzed again and
going 2 car now
showed up on the screen. She added a brief prayer request for her weekend to the prayer forum, then shut down the computer and grabbed her backpack and duffel. Ready or not, she prayed, here we go…
JESSIE CAME IN JUST AS Savannah was making herself a mid-morning snack after having spent the last two hours on the transplant forum. Her mind was still engaged in the conversations she’d read about the emotional component of organ transplants, and Jessie’s arrival disrupted her thoughts.
“Didn’t know you were coming home,” she said when Jessie appeared in the kitchen.
“It was a last-minute thing. Adam’s mom needed help with some stuff. That poor house of theirs is just falling apart; they seriously need to apply for that home makeover show.”
“Mmm.” Savannah spread strawberry jam on her toast. “So how are things?”
“They’re fine. How are you? Healing up okay?”
It was a topic she was getting tired of addressing with every person who saw her these days. “Yes, fine, thank you.”
Jessie began to fix herself some toast as well. “That’s good. I can’t imagine what it must be like. But, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that with me.”
Savannah was relieved by her daughter’s unexpected empathy. “Thank you.”
A cloud passed over Jessie’s face, but her voice was still light when she spoke. “So the freshman welcome dinner went off without a hitch. I told some of the girls about the doily story you’d told me; they all want to make next year’s dinner a throwback thing and cover everything with doilies. Isn’t that a riot?”
“Mmm.” Savannah eyed her computer as she bit into her toast. “Yes, funny.” She thought of something one of the other transplant recipients had written about, and she was struck with a sudden insight into the man’s struggle. She began to form her reply in her head as she blew over the top of her tea mug.
“… children’s home on Tuesday afternoons. It’s been such an incredible experience. I’ve only done it twice but I have a feeling this is really going to affect the way I go with my career.”
Career. Savannah certainly wished these days that hers had gone in a different direction. “Well, don’t be surprised if it doesn’t go the way you’re expecting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jessie’s tone snapped Savannah out of her own thoughts. “I – just that, your career-”
“Is this more about my major? I thought we were done with this conversation, Mom. I love the options I’ll have in education.”
Savannah set down her tea, bewildered by Jessie’s reaction. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry, sweetheart.”
“Gosh, could it be because you have once again shown that you have no respect at all for me and my choices? I could be the homecoming queen and valedictorian and you’d still think I’m inadequate.” Jessie popped the toast prematurely from the toaster and spread a sloppy layer of peanut butter over the still-soft bread. “I don’t know why I keep trying to show you how wrong you are. You never see what I’ve accomplished, only that it’s not what you’d choose to do. I’m really sorry I didn’t turn out to be a mini Savannah, but I am who God made me to be; and if it’s good enough for him it should be good enough for you.”
Savannah stared at Jessie, shocked. “Look, Jessica, I wasn’t trying to criticize with my comment. My mind was elsewhere-”
“Of course it was. It’s always been elsewhere. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with you where you were fully present. This wasn’t some momentary lapse of focus, Mom. This is an issue ten years in the making. You have no idea what it’s like to be Savannah Trover’s daughter-her only daughter – no, worse, her only child. Not only do I get to live with everyone’s expectations of what your daughter should be like, but I have to live with your expectations all concentrated on one person. I really wish you’d at least had another kid so I’d have someone to commiserate with.”
Savannah stared open-mouthed at her daughter. The comment hurt more than Jessie knew. “I’m serious, I’ve never meant to be hard on you. And any criticism I might have made was only to try to push you to consider other options instead of just blindly following what some guidance counselor made you think was your best bet. I never realized you were taking it that hard.”
Jessie sniffed and rolled her eyes as she pulled a napkin from the stack on the counter. “Of course you didn’t. You never think about anyone else. You never notice anyone else’s feelings. You never consider how what you say might hurt someone. You’re totally self-centered, but you excuse it as ministry. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have time for you because I need to work on my book.’ ‘Gosh, I’d love to help you out, but I really need to devote my time to my ministry.’ One excuse after another. Thank God I had Dad.”
The words were a slap in the face. Savannah watched Jessie storm off to her room, heard the door slam shut, and wandered in a daze back to the couch to try to figure out what just happened. She’d been called focused, and driven, and passionate, but never self-centered. Surely this was just Jessie spouting Psychology 101 insights that were completely off-base.
But as the sting wore off, Savannah couldn’t help noticing how accurate Jessie’s accusations were. She’d considered her ministry to be A &A and only A &A. She’d considered herself… not above serving in other ways, but excused from it. Her ministry was writing books and speaking, not feeding the homeless or praying with the sick. Savannah ministered to the people who did those kinds of things, and when someone invited her into the trenches she’d politely decline.
And when it came to Jessie… well, she had never meant to come off the way she apparently had. Yes, she did have high expectations for her, but she’d never disapproved of what she was doing-she’d merely thought other avenues might yield more fruit for her.
Though by not explicitly approving her choices, wasn’t I disapproving of them?
Jessie was so smart, had so much potential, Savannah was afraid she’d end up unappreciated in some overcrowded school working for pittance. And, if she was brutally honest with herself, she had to admit she’d often hoped Jessie would want to join Savannah in her ministry to women, helping them to reach out and grab the life God had for them.
It had all been for Jessie, really. For Jessie and her generation and the generations after her. All she’d wanted was to make the Christian subculture a place where women’s contributions were just as valued as the men’s, where the jobs mothers did were held in the same esteem as the pastors and teachers of the church. She’d been trying to strengthen and empower Christian moms to see the worth in what they did-and in doing so, she had checked out of her own mothering role and left her daughter to fend for herself.
She now saw the irony.
Savannah went to Jessie’s room and knocked. She opened the door when “come in” was muttered, and leaned against the doorframe. “I’m… I’m sorry, Jessie.”
“Thanks.” Her daughter’s tone suggested she didn’t think the apology very heartfelt.
“Listen-why don’t we do something this weekend, since Adam is going to be tied up anyway. Why don’t we go somewhere-like a spa.”
Jessie’s breath left her like a deflating balloon. “A spa? Seriously? I never even paint my nails, Mom. Not that you’ve probably ever noticed.”
She was right.
It was obvious Jessie had no intention of letting this smooth over and be done with. Their problems had been a decade in the making; one spa invitation wouldn’t make things right, but Savannah had no idea what to do. She shut the door and went back to her computer to lose herself on the forums.
SHAUN COULDN’T SLEEP. HE’D BEEN staring at the ceiling for over an hour when he finally got up and tiptoed from the bedroom so as not to wake Savannah. She’d told him about her conversation with Jessie, and it had broken his heart to see Savannah so wounded by the realizations she’d come to. He’d been unable to answer her, however, when she’d asked why he’d never said anything to her about her attitude.
“We’ve been doing this for ten years and you never once told me I was turning into a prima donna. Why didn’t you stop me, speak some sense into me?”
He’d squirmed beneath her stare, unwilling to confront his own shortcomings. He already had enough to hate himself for. He’d made up some excuse about not wanting to encroach on her personal approach to ministry, but she hadn’t bought it. Thankfully she hadn’t pushed him for a better answer.
Sure, maybe he should have challenged her more in regards to Jessie’s and her relationship-but what did he know about mothers and daughters? He’d been raised in a houseful of boys. When Jessie had been born, dads at church with daughters had warned him of the teen years. He’d just assumed a rocky relationship was par for the course. And the few times he’d spoken up on Jessie’s behalf, Savannah had countered with what sounded to him like a perfectly reasonable excuse for whatever it was she’d said or done to send Jessie crying to him.
He sympathized with Jessie’s frustration; he just wished she had picked a different weekend to dump all this on Savannah. She had enough on her mind without facing the damage she’d done to her daughter. But trying to untangle it now was not going to make her any more confident in writing that book, and that book needed to get written. They needed the advance. Jessie’s tuition bill was past due; he’d written a letter to the financial department asking for grace given the unexpected financial hardship they were facing, but he hadn’t heard back yet on whether or not they would be willing to give him some more time.
What frustrated him more was that Savannah wasn’t even trying to write the book. Twice he’d snuck a peek on her laptop to see if she’d started the manuscript, but found no new documents in the word processing program. The file for the outline hadn’t been opened in weeks.
He sat in his office with the lights out, staring at the moon and trying to figure out how to get that book done. Maybe he could hire a ghost writer. It would kill him to have to split the advance, but part of an advance would be better than none at all. Savannah could just write out notes, rather than having to worry about crafting them into something readable; maybe she could go through the finished manuscript and add her own touches here and there so it sounded more like her voice. All it really needed was her name on the front to be a bestseller.
And if they arranged a small book tour to promote it -just ten cities, perhaps, to guard her from exhaustion and overexertion – they’d really be in the clear. That would bring in all they needed, certainly. Savannah could sell hamburgers to a vegan if given the chance; she could easily get this book on the top of the New York Bestseller List if she was able to get in front of people. He knew how important a personal connection with the author could be in increasing sales; maybe if they arranged for signings that didn’t include a presentation and held those in other cities -
The light switched on and he let out a yelp of surprise. Savannah stood in the doorway, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Shaun rubbed a hand over his face as the adrenaline settled. “That’s alright. I was just lost in thought and didn’t hear you come in.”
“It’s two in the morning. You’re not still working, are you?”
“No, just couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come in here rather than risk waking you up.”
She sat in the chair across from his desk. “What’s on your mind?”
Had he been thinking, he wouldn’t have answered the way he did. But instead he made the mistake of being honest. “I was thinking about your book. Maybe we should hire a ghost writer, just to take some of the pressure off you.”
“A ghost writer? Are you serious? What-you think I can’t write anymore?”
“No, Van, it’s not that at all. Just, like I said, to help take the pressure off. I don’t doubt your ability, but I’ve seen how difficult it’s been for you to get going on it. We have a lot riding on this one; we have lots of bills to pay. The sooner we get it done, the better.”
She waved her hand. “That’s what savings are for, Shaun. I know you like to have that safety net; this is when it’s okay to dip into it.”
“Well, between the medical bills and Jessie’s tuition, our savings aren’t going to cut it.” He knew better than to tell her they had none.
“So this is all on me then? It’s up to me to save us, is that what you’re saying? Ha-no pressure or anything.”
He winced at the bitterness in her tone. “No, Van, that’s not how I meant it. I’m just saying that… that God brought you this contract. He’s trying to provide a means for us to deal with these expenses, but we need to do our part.”
“You mean I have to do my part, as in, this is all on me -just like I said.” She crossed her arms, her expression steely. “So God throws an ‘opportunity’ at me and I don’t have a choice? I just have to take it? What if I don’t want it?”
“What do you mean, ‘throws’ an opportunity at you? You started the book on your own; it’s not like God was twisting your arm. If you didn’t want to write it you shouldn’t have told your agent about it.”
She pushed herself to her feet. “Well, regardless, I don’t feel like dealing with God and his opportunities right now.”
Shaun was confused. “What does that mean?”
But she was already halfway out the door, and if she heard him, she didn’t let on.
He stared at the doorway with his mouth hanging open. What was that about? He knew writing books wasn’t always her favorite thing to do-it was too solitary a task, and she hated the time it took away from relating face-to-face with people. But she knew it was part and parcel with being a speaker, and had always managed to soldier her way through the process anyway. Why was this book any different?
He certainly couldn’t go to bed now; he didn’t want to risk running into a steaming Savannah. He woke his computer, planning on returning a few emails he’d been putting off, but when he opened the program his mouth turned to cotton. Another email from her sat in the inbox. Fear won out and he closed the program without looking at the message. That was the last thing he wanted to think about. He’d read it tomorrow.
Maybe.
W HAT’S THAT AXIOM ABOUT THE best-laid plans? Or, even better- Man plans, God laughs. Well, if he’s laughing at this then he’s pretty cruel.
Those were the thoughts in Jessie’s head as Adam drove them back to school Sunday night. The weekend had been an absolute disaster. All her self-analyzing and resolutions aimed at improving things with Savannah had flown right out of her head during their first conversation. It was as though her mouth worked on autopilot. She hadn’t really wanted to fight, but the accusations came almost without her thinking them. Tears of practice, I suppose. An unfortunate form of muscle memory.
She’d kept herself out of sight for the rest of the weekend, spending as much time at Adam’s as she could. They needed the extra hands anyway, and it wasn’t like she was needed at home. Her dad worked most of the time, even on the weekend, and all her mother did was sit around on the computer-a new hobby, apparently. Jessie wondered if Savannah enjoyed the anonymity of internet forums as much as she did. She had actually been really curious about the forum Savannah was on, and would have liked to have talked with her about it. For once they had something in common. But she’d wrecked any chance of that with her opening salvo. Old habits die hard. Another fitting cliché
She’d just finished unpacking when her cell rang. Shaun’s name was on the screen. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey yourself. Back at school?”
“Yeah, just a bit ago.”
“Didn’t get to see you much this weekend.”
Guilt tugged at her gut. “Yeah, I know. Adam’s family needed some help.”
“Well, I’m glad you could help them out. But I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk. I, um, heard you and your mother had an interesting conversation.”
Her defenses rose. “We talked, yes.”
“Sounds more like you ranted.”
“Seriously? You’re going to judge our whole conversation just from her view? That’s not fair.”
“I don’t really think it matters whose view it’s from, your mother doesn’t deserve to be called self-centered.”
“Even when it’s true?”
“Your mother is not self-centered. She’s focused.”
“Semantics, Dad.”
“Mind your tone, Jessie.”
She winced. “Sorry. But really, Dad, it’s not like I haven’t told you this stuff before. She just… I don’t know. And honestly, I was trying so hard to be agreeable, but it’s like my brain has these ruts from years of us butting heads, and the minute she says something that rubs me the wrong way I fall right into them and can’t get out. I end up arguing even though I don’t want to. Believe me – “ She swallowed back the lump that was forming in her throat. “I don’t want to fight with her. I don’t. And I really do want for us to get along. But it’s like it doesn’t matter what I do; it’s not gonna happen.”
His voice was softer when he spoke. “I understand, sweetheart. And I’m glad to hear that you’re trying and that you want things to change. They will. Change is hard, especially when the old way of doing things is so ingrained. Keep working at it, keep praying for a change of heart-it’ll come.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And in the meantime, I think an apology would be a good idea.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“You were pretty disrespectful, Jessie. And your mom is having a hard enough time right now.”
“Is she going to apologize to me?”
“Should we only apologize when we’re receiving an apology as well?”
“No, but that’s not the point.”
“Don’t worry about what your mother does or doesn’t do. Just do what you need to do.”
Anger made the tears start. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Gotta go. Bye.” She ended the call and choked back a sob of frustration. This was not how she’d wanted to end her weekend.
She dialed Angie’s number. “Talk me down.”
“Uh oh. What happened?”
“Mom and I had a fight and Dad is totally taking her side and insisting I apologize, even though she isn’t going to apologize, as usual.”
“Oy. Details?”
Jessie laid out the conversation, sniffing her way through it and hating how hard it was to talk while crying.
“I’m so sorry, Jess,” Angie said when she finished her story. “I totally get why you’re so upset. But I think your dad is right.”
“What?!”
“Put on the big-girl panties and apologize. You know, that whole fifth commandment thing about honoring your parents.”
“I can’t believe you’re siding with my dad.”
“Oh, come on, Jess, you know I’m not siding with anyone. I really do get how angry you are, and I totally agree that your mom was out of line. But seriously, if you’re wanting to make things better with you guys and break out of the pattern you’re stuck in, then this is a good way to do it.”
Jessie rubbed her eyes and sniffed. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Angie chuckled. “Sorry.”
“I just… seriously, I feel like it’s all a lost cause. She’s never going to change. And I know I really tried only once to make things better, but I feel like it’s always going to be an uphill battle and that it’s not going to work in the end anyway, so why keep trying?”
“That’s uncharacteristically pessimistic of you.”
“I know. But I can’t help it.”
“Keep praying about it.”
Jessie sniffed again. “Yeah, I know. Hey, I gotta run. Dinner ends in twenty minutes and I haven’t eaten yet.”
“Okay, keep me posted.”
“Will do.” Jessie ended the call and mopped up her face with a tissue. She knew Angie was right, but she also felt like it was all for naught. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried in the past to make things better. What had she been thinking? It hadn’t worked then, and she had no reason to think it would work now.
She thought about her life in ten years, about having her own children and what their relationship with Savannah would be like. Would Savannah treat them any differently? If she didn’t change, Jessie didn’t want to subject them to the same kind of subtle and not-so-subtle criticism that she’d lived with. And Savannah’s criticism of her wouldn’t suddenly end – it would just shift from her personal choices to her child-rearing choices. She’d read posts on the mothering forum about how some of those moms had to deal with their own parents butting in when it came to discipline and parenting and how damaging it was, to the point where they’d chosen to limit, or cut out altogether, the time their children spent with their grandparents. Granted, other circumstances were often at play that Jessie didn’t have to worry about-past abuse, mental health issues – but the thought of having the stress and arguments out of her life sure sounded appealing.
Though that would mean Mom was out of my life as well. That wasn’t possible without something extreme happening, and almost losing her mother had shown her she didn’t really want that. But if the expectation of seeing her as often as she currently did was removed, Jessie had a feeling she’d be a lot happier.
Her stomach rumbled. Tossing the tissue to the trash, she rolled off the bed and onto her feet. Out of habit she began to text Adam about meeting her for dinner, then erased the message. Better to eat alone. She had some thinking she had to do.
SAVANNAH WAS JUST OVER THREE weeks past her transplant when Shaun finally convinced her to come in to A &A and see everyone. “You haven’t been there in four months,” he reminded her. “These people are like our family. They miss you. And as their leader, you really should reconnect with them, even if it’s just a brief drop-in.”
Guilt was the only thing motivating her to go. She knew it was bad form not to at least go and say thank you in person – their cards and flowers had filled her room at the hospital, and they’d provided meals and encouragement for Shaun throughout her post-op hospitalization. But save for her frequent doctor visits, she hadn’t left the house since coming home, and the idea of being out in public -exposed to germs and feeling like a freak show on display, not to mention interacting with people-felt monumental.
She stood in her closet and surveyed her wardrobe. She’d been living in pajamas and sweats, and now none of her normal clothes appealed to her at all. All the jewel-toned pantsuits and blouses looked gaudy-why hadn’t she noticed that before? She flipped through the hangers until she found a simple white blouse and a faded pair of jeans. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn either one, and they weren’t the most interesting ensemble. But at least it didn’t make her look like a limelight-seeking attention hog.
She pulled on the blouse and tried to button it, but it wouldn’t fit across her stomach. Frowning, she pulled on the jeans, but came nowhere near close to being able to button them. She yanked them both off and stared at herself in the full-length mirror behind the door. She hadn’t taken a good look at her body since well before her illness, and she was stunned to see how different she looked. It wasn’t just the red line that bisected her body from neck to navel, though that was disturbing in and of itself. It was the way she had filled out-or, more accurately, swollen. She’d been warned of this side effect of one of her medications, and had put away her wedding and engagement rings the previous week when she noticed how difficult it had become to remove them. But her roomy pajamas had hidden the truth, and she’d excused the tightness of her yoga pants and T-shirts as being the result of not exercising regularly like she had before her illness. But this was not just muscle going to flab. This was honest to goodness weight gain. A lot of it.
She pulled another pair of jeans from a drawer and tried them on. No luck. She tried an elastic-waisted pair of slacks, though they were technically too heavy for the September heat. No luck again. She began to panic. She hadn’t been more than a size 8 since having Jessie.
Jessie! She pulled on her robe and went into Jessie’s room. Surely she hadn’t taken all her clothes with her to college. She opened the closet and breathed a sigh of relief. Not much was there, but certainly something here would fit. Jessie had inherited her father’s bigger bones and owned mostly 10's and 12's.
Savannah found a pair of jeans with a rip in the knee and pulled them on with figurative fingers crossed. Bingo! Encouraged, she took a little time to see what else was there. Her daughter’s style definitely ran more towards the outdoorsy Coloradan side of the spectrum than Savannah’s smart businesswoman attire. She now found herself drawn to the subdued, natural colors that Jessie favored – slate blues, hunter greens, grays, and browns. She selected a long-sleeved T-shirt in a mossy color and reveled in how comfortable it was. She’d have to get some of these. She looked dressed for October more than September, but at least the clothes fit. And maybe the extra warmth would help with the perpetual chill in her chest.
THE DRIVE TO A &A FELT longer than it used to. She found herself wishing something would happen to divert them. It used to be that she loved going in, chumming around with the women, taking everyone out for an impromptu coffee break. Being there always made her feel like she was a part of something bigger than herself.
But when she walked into the office now, that feeling eluded her. Instead, as everyone dropped their work to smother her with “Welcome back” and “We missed you so much,” she saw things as though the veneer had been sanded off: how needy they were for her approval, how desperate to please her, how they ignored Shaun in favor of kissing up to her despite the fact that he really ran things. Even the decor struck her wrong-the cheesy Scripture-laden prints in poster frames on the wall, the plastic plants in the corner, the depressing gray cubicles. She couldn’t believe she’d ever felt at home here.
“I’ll be in my office,” Shaun said with a smile that looked forced and left her to handle the staff on her own. Only Marisa appeared to be unfazed by her return. They hadn’t had a true conversation yet, however, and Savannah was nervous about being alone with her. Savannah had often joked that Marisa knew her better than Shaun – but now she felt like no one knew her, not even herself.
After a few minutes Marisa was the one who stepped in and said, “Let’s not overwhelm her-plus she has to be mindful of germs, since her meds suppress her immune system. Right?”
Grateful for Marisa’s cautious thinking, Savannah nodded. “Yes, right, exactly-to ward off the possibility of rejection.” It was her most cherished excuse these days. Why else would she avoid her own ministry for so long, or skip church Sunday after Sunday?
The others fell back like chastised children, and Marisa led her by the elbow to the front door. “Let’s go get some coffee and go over some things.”
Savannah was grateful for the rescue, though she didn’t really want to go talk, either. She wasn’t sure which would be worse: to be one-on-one with Marisa and have her seeing right through her, or to stay at A &A and have the rest of her staff nipping at her heels like hungry puppies. She followed Marisa to her car and tried not to look as conflicted as she felt.
Marisa wasted no time. The car was barely out of the parking lot when, voice tinged with concern, she asked, “So what’s up with you? It’s like you got a personality transplant with that heart.”
Savannah’s heart sank. Not even any small talk before digging in. She tried to put her off, though she knew it was only a matter of time before Marisa figured everything out. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“You’re one of the most social people I’ve ever met, but it looked in there like you were about to have a panic attack.”
“That’s not how I felt,” Savannah lied.
“Then how did you feel?”
Marisa might be her closest friend, but that didn’t mean Savannah was ready to fully open up about the doubts and fear and inexplicable anger that were eating her up inside. “I don’t feel like myself anymore,” she finally offered.
Marisa nodded, eyes on the road. “That’s understandable. Regardless of the physical effects of having a new heart, I can imagine the mental and emotional impact would be pretty profound.”
“Yes, exactly.” Savannah appreciated the refreshing lack of Christianese platitudes in Marisa’s response. “I didn’t expect this. They told me I might be depressed, but I’m not. I’m…” She hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much about how she seemed to have changed. “I’m sure it’ll all settle down eventually and I’ll be back to the old Savannah.”
Marisa gave her a sidelong look but said nothing.
They went to their usual coffee hangout, where Marisa presented Savannah with an impressive and overwhelming backlog of mail. Together they crafted responses for the various kinds of letters – a thank you message for those sending notes of encouragement and prayers for her recovery, gentle letters of decline to those asking her to come speak to their church/women’s ministry/mom’s ministry – then Savannah signed bookplates requested by readers. They weren’t there long, but it was enough time for Savannah to feel like she could handle going back into the fray at A &A without snapping. Marisa said nothing else about how she had changed, though Savannah knew she wouldn’t drop the subject completely. Maybe the next time she asked Savannah would be ready to open up.
After finishing their business, Marisa gave Savannah an almost shy look. “I wanted to talk to you about something-but I feel badly bringing it up.”
She groaned inside. “Why? What is it?”
“Well…” Marisa plucked invisible lint from her skirt. “I’m feeling really conflicted about something. Normally I’d come straight to you to hash it out, but my frustrations feel so petty compared to what you’re going through.”
Savannah let out a genuine laugh. “Marisa, I can’t tell you how nice it would be to think about someone else’s problems for a while. Not that I’m glad you’ve got them, of course. But seriously, your issues are no less important to you just because I’ve got my own thing going on. Spill it.”
Marisa chuckled. “Okay, good.” She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly before starting. “Well, here’s the deal. The time I was in New York with Jeremy was amazing. I never thought I’d love that city, but I’m really starting to. And things with Jeremy… they’re so wonderful when we’re actually in the same time zone. This long-distance thing is really starting to get hard.” She stilled her fidgety hands in her lap and finally made eye contact with Savannah. “He wants to marry me.”
Savannah smiled. “That’s wonderful! Right?”
Marisa smiled, looking slightly less nervous. “Yes, it’s wonderful. But definitely not doable while we’re still so far apart. Neither of us can just up and transfer our jobs. I could find work out there, but I don’t want to just leave you and A &A. I mean, this is so much more than just a job to me – you’re my friend, this is my ministry…” She sighed. “I’m feeling really stuck.”
Savannah nodded slowly as the words sunk in. Marisa had been her closest friend for years now-it was hard to imagine life without her. Not even Shaun knew some of the things about her that Marisa did. But if Marisa moved, it would mean one less person she had to try to fool into thinking she was the same person she’d always been – and Marisa would be the hardest of them all to keep in the dark.
“Listen, Marisa – if you love this man, and he loves you, then you need to do whatever needs to be done to make sure you don’t lose this opportunity. And if that means leaving A &A and moving on to New York, I’m okay with that.”
Marisa blinked. “You – you are?”
“Yes, I am. This might be… confirmation, you might say, that things are going to be changing for me, in terms of ministry. And I’m okay with that.”
“Oh.” Marisa shook her head, eyes wide with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you for being so understanding. I really can’t imagine leaving, but maybe this is God’s way of confirming that Jeremy and I really are meant to be together.”
“Ah, yes, there you go.”
“Still…” Marisa frowned. “It’s hard to imagine. You and I are so close, and this ministry means so much to me…” She looked to Savannah. “Would you mind praying for me?”
Savannah was taken aback. “What, now?”
Marisa gave her a puzzled smile. “If you don’t mind. Just for some peace and clarity.”
“Oh… sure.” Savannah closed her eyes as Marisa did, scrambling for the words to say.
It was then she realized she hadn’t prayed once since the surgery.
She fumbled through what she hoped was a coherent prayer that wouldn’t make Marisa think she’d lost her mind. But if Marisa was concerned, she didn’t say anything, and they drove back to A &A without much conversation. Savannah thought back over the weeks, sure she was forgetting something, but no, she really hadn’t prayed. She’d tried, but only a handful of times, and always unsuccessfully. She wasn’t sure what concerned her more-the fact that she hadn’t prayed, or the fact that she hadn’t noticed.
Once back at the office Marisa went to work on the letters, leaving Savannah to sit and chat with Brenda at the front desk and with whatever other staff members came up to talk to her. Thankfully the excitement of her return seemed to have worn off, though nearly everyone came to her for just a moment to give a hug and offer once more to help however they could. The one exception was Adam’s mother, Ginny. Savannah and Ginny had developed a comfortable bond since their children had begun to date, and while they didn’t often spend much time together, they always got along like friends and not just friendly co-workers. Ginny came over and gave Savannah a hug, then said, “Could we talk for a minute, maybe outside?”
They went out into the sunshine and walked down a couple storefronts to a bench that sat outside a used bookstore. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring this up or not,” Ginny finally said. “But I just keep getting this troubled feeling and didn’t feel right not saying something.”
Savannah swallowed hard. “Alright,” she said, feeling suddenly on the defensive. Her mind raced to think of where this conversation might be going.
Ginny took a deep breath. “Well, some of us are a little worried. We feel like maybe we’re not getting the whole story on how A &A is doing, financially speaking. Brenda talked to Nick after he was let go, and he said Shaun made him sign a confidentiality notice, so he couldn’t say much, but he hinted at A &A’s financial situation as playing a part in why he was terminated. But whenever someone asks Shaun about our outlook he makes it sound like we’re firmly in the black and have nothing to worry about. Now, maybe Shaun just doesn’t want to worry us before there actually is a problem, but if there’s the potential for the ministry to go under I need to start looking for a new position sooner rather than later. You know how it is with Carl on disability.”
It took a minute for Ginny’s words to sink in. Once they did, Savannah’s blood began to boil. “Wait a minute. Nick was fired?”
“Last month, yes.”
“Because of our finances?”
“That’s what Shaun told him, apparently. Shaun didn’t actually tell anyone about any of it, which I thought was a little weird.” She shrugged. “But it wasn’t really my business, so I didn’t say anything.”
Savannah didn’t know what to say. “He probably just didn’t want to worry me with the details,” she finally said. “A month ago… that would have been right before the surgery.”
“That makes sense. And I doubt Shaun would lie to us – what reason would he have? So I’m sure everything is fine. But the appearance of double talk is troubling some people. If things really are okay, I think it would ease a lot of minds to hear you say it. If it comes from you, they’ll believe it.”
Savannah cringed. That was just the kind of pressure she did not need right now.
She placated Ginny with a promise to talk to Shaun, then followed her back into the building and made a beeline for Shaun’s office. She shut the door and glared at him. “You fired Nick.”
Shaun’s jaw clenched and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. She didn’t give him a chance to respond before launching her own assault. “I told you how I felt, and you not only completely disregarded my wishes but then lied to him about why he was being let go! The staff knows something isn’t right; Nick hinted to Brenda that it had to do with A &A’s financial health, so now they’re all panicked that we’re going to shut our doors and they’ll be left out in the cold. What is wrong with you?”
“Look, I had no solid evidence that he was stealing. I couldn’t confront him with that and risk being slapped with a wrongful termination suit. But I really felt like that’s what God was telling me to do. I think we dodged a bullet here.”
Savannah scoffed in disbelief. “If God was telling you that, then why didn’t he tell me?” She shook her head, eyes riveted on Shaun who seemed to wilt somewhat under her scrutiny. “You’re lying, either to your staff or to your wife. Neither one is good.”
She didn’t press him to admit who was getting the wrong story, though. Instead, she took his keys from the corner of the desk. “I’m leaving. Call when you want a ride home.” With a brief wave to Brenda she left the building, then started for home, seething.
Her thoughts were racing. What was Shaun hiding? And how could he do it in such a small organization, when everyone was so close? Certainly he hadn’t expected to never be found out. She didn’t buy his excuse, regardless of what opinion of God’s he was trying to invoke. Honestly, it was the comment about God telling him to fire Nick that made her even more doubtful.
But she wasn’t far from A &A’s campus when she realized that she was as guilty as he. She was harboring her own secrets. And it was the fact that she had her own secrets now-the doubts and anger involving God that got stronger every day – that made her even more worried. She knew just how bad things might get if she admitted how she truly felt.
She was afraid to even imagine what Shaun’s secrets might lead to.