The picture was becoming clearer. “That whole time she thought I was dead.”
“Right.”
Patsy’s tears felt hot on her weathered cheeks. “She must have believed she’d been given a new life, a chance to have a family who would never leave her. Never hurt her.”
“Exactly.”
The despair in Patsy’s soul was worse than anything she’d suffered in all the years of disappointments with Leslie. “What am I supposed to do, then? How can I make Grace feel secure?”
“It takes time.”
“And what about Leslie’s threats. She’ll take Grace whether it’s legal or not, by the sounds of it.” Patsy’s voice trembled and she felt utterly weak.
“First, you should get an attorney and see about officially adopting Grace. Second, I’d follow through with the restraining order. And you might want to consider moving, as well.”
Attorney? Restraining order? Moving? Patsy’s head swam and she could barely find the strength to speak. “In other words, I’d never see Leslie again.”
The social worker’s answer rang with finality. “Quite possibly. But then, she considered you dead before any of this ever happened.”
Memories of the conversation faded.
Patsy reached for a manila envelope on her lap and tucked the letters inside. She craned her neck and saw that Grace was still on the recliner where she’d been an hour earlier, watching television with the same dazed look she’d had since she’d arrived in Oklahoma.
God, what am I supposed to do?
There was no loud answer, no letters from heaven giving her step-by-step directions on how to raise little Grace. Patsy shifted her gaze forward once more and stared at her hands. Her shoulders shook and tears formed a logjam in her throat.
For years she’d prayed daily for Leslie, begging God to change her heart and bring her closer to Him. Now, in some ways, Patsy was being asked to choose. Give Grace the home and safety she deserved, but eliminate Leslie from her life entirely. It was the most gut-wrenching thing Patsy had ever been asked to do.
She closed her eyes, folded her hands, and brought them to her face. Please, God, give me wisdom. I feel like I’m going to lose no matter what I do.
Ask and you will receive … seek and you will find … for the LORD gives wisdom.
The Scriptures soaked through her frightened soul as though God Himself were writing them there.
Bit by bit, an idea began to form in Patsy’s head. One she would never have considered if not for Leslie’s threats and Candi’s warnings—and most of all her own conversations with Mrs. Parsons.
Ever since receiving Leslie’s letters, she’d seen only one way of carrying on, a way that grew darker and bleaker with every passing day. But now … in light of God’s gentle whispers … she saw a way she’d never considered before. It wouldn’t be easy or pain-free, but suddenly it loomed as the answer to her prayers.
The idea grew and took root and by that evening, Patsy was sure it was the best answer. A way that, in the end, would not involve losing, but winning. Not just for Patsy and Leslie and Grace.
But for the Bronzans as well.
Thirty
Only Tanner knew exactly how hard the treatment had been on Jade.
In two weeks she had lost fifteen pounds and most of her hair. She vomited several times a day and was often too exhausted to do anything more than make a short trip to the nursery to see Madison.
Ty visited every afternoon, and Jade made sure she had a scarf around her head before he came. He had a hard enough time understanding her cancer without watching her hair fall out. Finally he’d brought her his Los Angeles Lakers baseball cap.
“Here, Mom.” He helped position it over her balding head, pulling the sides down carefully over her ears. “This way you’ll have a part of me with you even when you sleep.”
Jade had worn the hat every day since, even when the convulsions in her stomach left her doubled over a bedpan for nearly an hour.
They had arranged with their neighbor to watch Ty any time that Tanner wasn’t home. And since the second day of Jade’s treatment, that had been almost constantly. He came home to sleep and spend time with Ty, but only when Jade insisted. At least four times he’d stayed the night, holding her hand and pulling back the thin clumps of hair that remained on her head so they wouldn’t fall in the bedpan.
For all the ways Jade loved Tanner, the time they spent together those two weeks raised her feelings to another level. By letting him see her now, when death was pulling at her from every side, she had shown him everything there was to see, allowed him into every closet in her heart.
Tanner had seen her collapsed on the bathroom floor, clinging to the toilet, and he’d wiped vomit from her mouth when she was too exhausted to move. He’d applied ointment to her C-section incision and spoon-fed her when she was too weak to lift her hands. When she needed to soothe the radiation burns on her face and neck, Tanner worked tirelessly to keep her washcloth cool.
He’d done all that, seen her at her worst and weakest, yet Jade could tell by his touch that he had never loved her more.
The days passed in a slow, sickening blur. Rarely did they talk about the impending surgery when it was all they could do to survive each day. The news was both good and bad. While the tumor hadn’t grown tentacles—which would have made it very difficult if not impossible to remove surgically—it had not shrunk nearly as much as Dr. Layton hoped.
Because of that, and because the treatment was taking such a toll on Jade, Dr. Layton decided to go ahead with the scheduled surgery date of October 21. Two weeks after she’d given birth to Madison.
“There’s no point waiting,” the doctor had told them after one week of chemotherapy and radiation. “Not since we’re not seeing a dramatic response to the treatment.”
Finally, mercifully, it was Sunday evening.
Dr. Layton had spent an hour with her and Tanner that afternoon, explaining once more the benefits and risks of brain surgery.
“First of all, it’s the only way to rid Jade of the cancer.” He looked from Tanner to Jade and back again. “Otherwise her condition would be terminal.”
He detailed that if all went well, they would remove the entire tumor without disturbing the surrounding brain tissue. If the margins around the tumor tested clean, there was a very good chance Jade would be cured, and that five years from now, if she had no recurrence of cancer she could be given a clean bill of health. Her battle with cancer would be over forever.
If not …
Jade had barely been able to tolerate hearing the list of things that could go wrong. First, they might not get the entire tumor. In that case, if the margins around the tumor showed remaining cancer cells, Jade could easily face a second brain tumor down the road or cancer in another part of her body—most likely her lungs.
Even if they managed to remove every cancer cell, there was a possibility that Jade’s brain would be permanently altered in the process.
“That’s the part I’m a little foggy on.” Tanner leaned forward, holding tight to Jade’s hand with one hand and resting his chin in the palm of his other.
Dr. Layton studied the floor for a moment and then looked at Tanner once more. “It means she could lose her memory or suffer a change in personality. When we remove a tumor this size, we try to leave the brain undisturbed. But some tissue is bound to be lost in the process.”
Jade watched the blood drain from Tanner’s face. These details had always been clear to her, but apparently Tanner had not fully understood until now. “How … how will you know?”
Dr. Layton folded his hands, his brow lowered, eyes dark with the severity of the situation. “We won’t know until she regains consciousness. After the surgery.”
When the doctor finally left, Tanner hung his head and cried.
Jade wanted desperately to crawl out of bed and go to him, to sit on his knee, wrap her arms around his neck, and promise him none of those terrible things would h
appen. That tomorrow at this time she’d still be with him and that everything was going to be okay.
Instead she ran her fingers through his hair, praying that her touch would be enough to help him through. “He has to tell us that, Tanner. We can’t be blind to the risks.”
Tanner shook his head and wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes. “I’m sorry.” She saw raw fear in his eyes. “I want to wake up at home with you beside me, with Maddie and Ty down the hall, and know that every bit of this was just some awful dream.”
A nurse came then and brought Jade her last meal before the surgery. Now it was six o’clock, and before they could talk about what the morning might bring, there was a knock on the door.
Tanner looked up. “Come in.”
The door opened and the Bronzans filed through. First Matt, then Hannah.
“Hey, guys!” Jade smiled at them and pushed a button on the remote control, raising the back of her bed several degrees. “Where’s Jenny?”
Matt gave her a partial grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Downstairs with Kody.”
Jade nodded. She had seen their baby once earlier that week and marveled at the grace of God, the perfection of his timing and design in bringing them this child. Especially while the pain of losing Grace was still so real.
Matt and Hannah crossed the room toward her bed. Hannah carried a large envelope and already Jade could see tears in her eyes.
“How are you?” Hannah took hold of Jade’s hand, her face intent.
Jade’s throat was suddenly thick with emotion and she could only nod.
Tanner stood, and he and Matt hugged. They’d talked at length the day before so Matt could fill Tanner in about the trial and the judgment and how all of it had been more than they could ask or imagine.
There were no words between them now, though.
Everyone in the room knew why they were there. They’d come to say good-bye.
Hannah moved close to Jade’s side and held up the envelope. “We have something we’d like to hang over your bed.”
Jade smiled and adjusted her baseball cap. “Not a Lakers poster, right? Ty already tried that. The head nurse is from Portland. A Blazers fan.” She glanced at Matt. “It’s all she can do to let me wear the hat.”
“No …” The tears in Hannah’s eyes spilled onto her cheeks. She managed a sad smile as she took Jade’s hand. “It’s not a Lakers poster.”
Hannah pulled out a small stack of notebook paper. “It’s a prayer chain, Jade.” Hannah’s smile faded and she leaned closer. “Pastor Steve agreed to ask the congregation for forty-eight volunteers.” Hannah passed the stack to Jade. “But 240 people signed up.”
Tanner positioned himself on the other side of the bed and stared at the pieces of paper. “Are you serious?”
Jade stared, speechless, at the names listed before her.
Hannah Bronzan, midnight; Amy Hannan, 12:30; Adam Sonney, 1:00 A.M.; Ben Bailey, 1:30 …
The list of names flowed the length of the sheet and continued to the next page and the next. Ten pages of names. People whose children she had taught in Sunday School or women she’d sat next to in church. Girls in the high school youth group and boys barely old enough to drive.
Names jumped at her from the page: Brandon Daves, 5:00 P.M.; Ann Hudson, 5:30; Sylvia Wallgren, 6:00 P.M.; Landon Heidenreich, 6:30 …
It was overwhelming.
Her hand began to shake and she let the stack fall to her lap. Her hands fluttered to her throat and she worked to find her voice. “I … I don’t know what to say.”
There were tears on all their faces now as Hannah took the list and pulled a roll of tape from the envelope. With Matt’s help, they taped each sheet above Jade’s bed, and finally they placed a small banner over the list of names that read simply: “The Jade Chain.”
Jade craned around to see the list as two quiet sobs shook her body. All this time she’d wondered if her church family really liked her or not. The comments about her being an adulterer had only come from two older women, but still, Jade had wondered.
Until now.
When she needed them most, they had stepped up and agreed to pray for her every hour of the day until she was no longer in danger. Jade buried her face in her hands. They loved her … They loved her after all.
She steadied herself and let her hands fall to her lap while Matt and Hannah finished with the wall. “I can’t believe it.” Jade looked at Hannah. “Thank you so much, Hannah. I’ve never … never had a friend like you.”
Hannah leaned over and hugged Jade, and the two stayed that way for a long while, holding on to the moment, weeping from someplace deep inside them at the thought of what would come next.
When Hannah straightened again, Matt put his arm around her and patted Jade’s knee. “We wanted to pray with you and let you know we’ll be here all day tomorrow, helping with Ty and checking on Madison so you and Tanner can be alone.”
Jade’s heart hurt, swollen with equal parts grief and joy. How blessed she was to count the Bronzans as family, to know that if anything happened to her, Tanner and Ty and Madison would always have friends who understood. Friends who had been there since the beginning and would be there to the end.
Whenever that might be.
Jade tightened her grip on Hannah’s hand and searched her eyes. Matt cleared his throat, and Jade shifted her gaze to him. “We love you, Jade. We’ll always love you.” Matt’s voice broke. “We’re here for you and Tanner and the kids whenever you need us. Whatever you need.”
Matt reached out and took hold of Tanner’s hand so the circle was complete. “Can we pray for you?”
“Yes.” Jade choked back a sob. “Please.”
Jade watched the others close their eyes and bow their heads, and she did the same. Matt spoke in a shaky voice. “Lord, the time has come to place our friend, Jade, in Your arms. We trust You, God, that whatever happens tomorrow will be perfectly part of Your will, Your plan. But we beg You …”
When he halted, Jade knew he was crying.
“We beg You to heal her. Guide the surgeons’ hands and give them Your eyes, Lord. To take out every bit of the cancer. Please let the time pass quickly and … and bring Jade back to us very soon. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
If the good-bye with the Bronzans wasn’t painful enough, an hour later their neighbor brought Ty up and turned him over to Tanner. The surgical procedures would start too early in the morning for Ty or anyone else to see Jade. Only Tanner was allowed in her room until she was taken into surgery, and that would happen sometime around six the next morning.
Beside her on the bed was the journal Jade had written for Ty. Tanner had wrapped it a week earlier. Jade held her hand out and studied her son. “Come here, buddy.”
He still hadn’t cried, not once since Jade’s diagnosis. But now, as he shuffled across the slick hospital floor toward her bed, she could see his nose was red and his eyes were puffy. When he was next to her, he scrunched his face into a mass of wrinkles and gripped his temples with his thumb and forefinger.
Tanner stood at his side, his hand on Ty’s shoulder, too distraught to speak.
Jade swallowed hard and somehow found her voice. “Ahh, buddy, it’s okay.” Jade released the bed rail and pulled him close, hugging him and stroking his back while he sobbed in grunts and small gasps as only a thirteen-year-old boy can. The sound of it broke what was left of Jade’s heart, and she realized how hard he’d worked to mask his fears before this.
“I … I don’t want them to hurt you.” He clung to her as he hadn’t done since he was a small boy, as he hadn’t done since sheriff’s deputies showed up at their door to take him away that awful morning three years ago. The week after Jim had won full custody of him.
“Ty, it’s okay, honey.” Jade whispered the words close to his ear. “The doctors aren’t going to hurt me; they’re going to help me. So I can get out of here and come home with you and Daddy and Maddie.”
“I’m
… I’m so scared, Mom. I need you.” He pulled back, and she saw terror in his eyes. “What if something happens?”
“God’s in control, Ty. You believe that, right?” Jade ignored her own tears and wiped her thumb across Ty’s wet cheeks.
He nodded and sniffed hard. “It’s just that … well, other than Dad …” He glanced at Tanner and back to her. “Other than Dad, you’re my best friend. You have to be okay.”
Jade pulled his head to her chest once more and let him cry. There was no way she could give him the journal now, not with him worrying about whether she’d survive. Without letting Ty see what she was doing, Jade moved the package beneath her sheets. She would give it to him later, when she was on the other side of this nightmare.
And if not …
Jade squeezed her eyes shut and refused to let her thoughts go that way. Tanner moved in closer, sheltering the two of them with his body, lending his strength whatever way he could.
After a while, Ty pulled back, reached for a tissue, and blew his nose. “I’m sorry for crying. I—” he blew his nose again—“I wanted to be strong for you, Mom.”
Jade caught his hand in hers once more. “Never be afraid to cry, son. It means you have a heart.”
“Yeah … I guess.” Ty tried to grin, his eyes nearly swollen shut. “I love you.”
“I love you, Ty.” She wanted to tell him something positive, something reassuring. A promise he could hang on to no matter what happened in the morning. She settled on something truthful. Whatever the outcome might be. Their eyes locked and she directed her words straight to his soul. “We’ll be home together soon, okay?”
He nodded, missing the double meaning, and this time his smile came more easily. “Okay. Be safe.”
Be safe…
The words washed over Jade, and she steeled herself against another wave of tears. They were the words she’d told him since he was small, words she said whenever it was time to say goodbye. She answered him with the words that were his typical response. “Always.”