Читать книгу Adam's Promise - Gail Martin Gaymer - Страница 12

Standing in the Montgomery living room, Kate marveled at the coziness of the huge house. Someone’s efforts had brightened what might have been a dark, ponderous room by understating the wide woodwork and dark paneled inserts with colorful walls and chintz upholstery. Antiques mingled with traditional furniture were placed in conversational groupings. The room looked genial.

Kate took in the artwork, the abundance of antique dishes adorning the mantle and corner cabinet, and the colorful toss pillows, remembering her meager childhood, her less-than-cozy dwelling.

“Set your luggage in the hall, Katherine. I’ll have Jake carry it up for you when he arrives.”

Kate stepped into the foyer and dropped her luggage beside the stairs. She gazed upward at the rounding staircase that led to rooms she speculated would be as tasteful as the one she’d seen.

“Make yourself at home,” Liza said behind her.

Kate spun around. “The house is lovely. Are the mayors’ families allowed to change the decor? This really looks like you. Such delicate touches.”

Liza chuckled. “The official mayor’s residence is closer to the city offices. When Frank was elected, he chose to stay in our own home, and I was pleased. We raised all three children here. This is where our hearts are.”

Kate’s muddied mind sorted out her words. This was Adam’s childhood home. Her earlier comment brought embarrassment. “I didn’t know. I thought I could see your handiwork. It’s very comfortable.”

“Thank you. I do want our friends to feel welcome here…and please consider yourself a friend, Katherine.”

“Then call me Kate. My friends do.” Except Adam, she mused.

“Kate it is. Now, as I said, you go and make yourself comfortable. I know we’re all hungry, and I’ll just go and see what I can rummage up.”

“Please, let me help,” Kate said.

“Are you sure? I know you’ve been through so much.”

Kate shook her head. “It’ll help me keep the awful memories off my mind.” And keep me awake, she thought.

“Then come along.” Liza motioned for her to follow.

Her gaze lingered on the wide staircase for a moment; she imagined Adam as a child sliding down the banister or taking the steps two at a time the way boys do. She dragged her thoughts to the present and made her way behind Adam’s mother to the kitchen.

Kate gaped as she stood inside the large room with a center island where pots and pans hung, their copper bottoms gleaming just as she’d seen in magazines. She never thought people really used them.

To her surprise, Liza pulled one down and set it on the stove. “Our housekeeper does much of the cooking, but today’s she’s off so I take over. It’s nothing to prepare a meal for only us, but today, my guess is Jake and Colleen will join us.”

“What can I do?” Kate asked.

Liza rubbed her cheek and stared into the refrigerator. “Hmm. Something fast is what we need.”

Kate watched as Adam’s mother pulled out a large ham, a crockery pot full of baked beans and fresh salad greens from the refrigerator. “You’ll find some red skins in the little pantry, there.” She pointed to the door on the left. Kate found the potatoes, and she and Liza worked side by side, preparing the meal.

Soon voices echoed from the hallway, and Colleen made her entrance into the kitchen. She sneaked a sliver of ham from the stack and curled it into her mouth. “Can I help?” she asked between chews.

“You can set the table,” Liza said.

Somewhere in the haze of exhaustion, Kate found herself seated between Liza and Colleen at the dining room table. The fine china and sterling seemed a paradox to the simple home-cooked meal, but Kate accepted the family’s refined ways and placed the linen napkin on her rumpled pants.

Frank stretched his arms toward his wife and son, a seeming family tradition, and Kate grasped the two hands extended to her. They bowed their heads, hands joined, making a circle around the table, while Adam’s father offered the blessing and asked the Lord for Adam’s safekeeping.

Even though the meal consisted of leftovers, the food was delicious, but Kate could only nibble at her meal. Despite being hungry, she felt too tired to swallow. The family conversation rolled as naturally as if she weren’t a stranger. While Adam’s father seemed blustery, she saw a gentleness when it came to his children, like a growling canine who, getting close enough, licks the intruder’s hand.

Kate had little to offer with her mind and body weary and her self-esteem sinking fast as she sat at the gleaming wood table and chairs, cherry or fruit-wood with Queen Anne legs and tapestry seat cushions. The large china cabinet glinted with sparkling cut glass and colorful antique dishes.

Kate listened to the conversation. At first the talk dwelled on the family’s concern for Adam. Colleen and Jake asked questions about Doctors Without Borders and their lives in Venezuela. Kate tried to answer, though her tongue and teeth were no longer in sync.

But soon the conversation drifted to more personal topics. Adam’s home. Adam’s family. Adam’s life. She clung to every thread of his amazing world.

Frank speared a dollop of butter with his knife and spread it across a thick piece of bread. “I talked to your uncle Joe yesterday.” He forked a slab of ham and lay it on top.

“How is he?” Jake asked.

Liza eyed the bread and meat. “Frank, you’re not making a sandwich at dinner, are you?” Her gaze slid to Kate’s while her cheeks flushed. “We have a guest.”

“I certainly am,” he said, taking a chomp out of the concoction. “And Kate can make her own sandwich if she wants.”

Liza shook her head and gave Kate a shrug. Kate grinned and slid a piece of potato into her mouth.

“So what’s up with Uncle Joe?” Jake asked.

“Mad as a hornet.”

“What happened?”

“Barclay again.” Frank dropped his sandwich onto the plate and slapped his hand on the tabletop. “The man’s stealing business right out from under him…and it’s not the first time.”

“You mean Montgomery Construction lost another bid?” Jake said.

Frank nodded. “It’s the fourth, and this time Joe said they gave a low bid. He told me he knew no one could underbid him. The company would have barely made a profit.” He rapped his knuckles on the table beside his plate. “I’d like to get my hands around that crook’s neck.”

“Dad,” Colleen said, “you don’t know he’s a crook. He’s a businessman. A mogul.”

“Mongrel is right,” Frank said.

Colleen didn’t give up. “Dad. Look at those gorgeous hotels he owns all over town. The guy must know what he’s doing. You can’t blame him because he doesn’t give his business to Montgomery Construction.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Colleen.” Her father shook his fork at her. “I co-owned Montgomery Construction once. Remember that. I know about business. That guy’s doing something shady.”

“Frank,” Liza said, “let’s enjoy our dinner.”

“Who won the bid?” Jake asked, ignoring his mother’s plea for a relaxing meal.

“Same company as last time. Elroy Construction.”

Jake shook his head. “Never heard of it.”

“Ready for coffee and pie?” Liza rose and gathered the empty plates around her.

Kate covered a grin, watching her hostess’s ploy to distract them from their conversation.

“What kind of pie, Mom?” Colleen asked.

“Aunt Fiona’s apple pie. We picked up two a couple days ago.”

“Aunt Fiona’s?” Jake asked. “My favorite.”

Liza smiled. “How about à la mode? Vanilla ice cream?”

“I’ll take a big piece,” Jake said.

Kate decided to pass on dessert. If she didn’t skip the pie, she’d pass out at the table for sure. Sleep was the only thing that sounded good to her.

Rest didn’t come easy for Kate. Her body jerked and her eyes flew open as she began to sink into sleep. She’d been up two full days, and her senses had set themselves on the edge of awareness.

Kate couldn’t believe they’d given her the use of Adam’s old bedroom. Her eyes took in every nook and cranny as she imagined Adam as a child. Colleen had mentioned he’d been a science buff even then, intent on his microscope, pricking his own finger for blood, analyzing insects he’d dragged in from outside.

Before she’d lain down, Kate had stood at the wide window, gazing out at the sprawling yard. A huge maple stood outside the pane, its branches almost touching the glass. She’d wondered if Adam ever used the limbs to sneak out at night when he was a teen. She’d grinned at her silly imagination. She’d seen too many movies.

With relentless curiosity, her thoughts clung to Adam. Not the Adam she’d seen unconscious at Vance Memorial, but the Adam she imagined as a youth and the grown-up Adam she knew in Venezuela.

Even with his moments of impudence, he had made her laugh and entertained her with his interest in nature. She remembered one evening when the clinic’s interior had become stifling, and she and Adam had run into each other outdoors, trying to catch a breath of fresh air. They’d found a gentle breeze and stood together admiring the late-afternoon sky. Appreciating the blessing, each had responded to the beauty of the sunset, its colors spreading across the horizon like pastel silk unraveling on a misty blue lake.

She recalled other days they had both marveled at the birds. Colorful parrots and tropical creatures she’d never seen before except perhaps at a zoo—large banana-curved beaks and plumage the spectrum of primary colors. Their chatter filled the daytime, reverberating with unique whistles and plaintive calls that punctuated the solitude of the compound.

One day Adam had joined her and two other staff members on a free afternoon to visit the lagoon. They saw the mangroves with their long roots extending into the water like legs on a spider. Adam had been curious that day and had studied them so closely that when an animal had skittered in the bushes, the noise had sent him flying backward. They had all laughed, and she’d felt pleased seeing Adam laugh at himself.

Kate covered her head with a pillow, then counted backward from a hundred. Finally, somewhere between three and three-thirty, she drifted off, but before the sun rose, she awakened with no hope of falling back to sleep.

Concern provoked her thoughts. She rose, took a quick shower, dressed and called a taxi. Downstairs, she found a tea bag and popped a mug of water into the microwave, figuring she would buy her much-needed coffee at the hospital.

By the time she swallowed the last of the black pekoe, the taxi’s headlights flashed across the windows. She hurried outside before he honked and slumped in the back of the cab, wishing she could catch a few minutes’ rest.

Solace finally came when Kate stood beside Adam’s bed in ICU. She spent the hours ambling back and forth between the waiting room and his bedside.

“Adam,” she whispered. “Use that attitude of yours, that self-importance I’ve seen so often, and wake up. Fight. Don’t let this get you.”

His finger was connected to a pulse oximeter. Kate touched his hand, rubbing her palm over his cool skin. “Adam. Let’s pray together.”

She leaned closer to his ear and murmured the prayer she’d said so often, asking God to renew his strength and spirit, to make him whole again.

When she’d said the Amen, she lifted her hand and touched his face. “Adam, wake up. You must make it through this. You’re loved by so many people.”

She turned away, realizing that, without question, she was becoming one of them.

Kate lifted her gaze when she heard footsteps and saw Adam’s parents step into the hospital waiting room.

When Liza saw her, she hurried to Kate’s side. “How’s Adam?”

“They did an EEG this morning. He seems to be doing a little better.”

“He’s conscious?” Liza’s eyes brightened with her words.

“No. But his vital signs are good.”

Mrs. Montgomery’s face sagged with disappointment.

“His breathing has improved,” Kate added, hoping to cheer her. “I’m guessing they’ll take the chest tube out soon.”

“That would be wonderful,” Liza said. “What were the results of his EEG?”

“Adam’s not back yet. I expect we’ll hear something soon. The doctor usually stops by once he’s read the test results.”

Liza dropped her bag on an empty seat and wrung her hands. “This waiting is so stressful.”

“It is.” Kate massaged the tension in her neck, then scooted deeper into the cushion, leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She’d fought sleep all night, and now it seemed to overtake her.

“I wonder if he’s back and they…”

Kate pulled herself upward and opened her eyes.

Liza regarded her face. “I’m sorry, dear. You look so tired, and I disturbed you. I apologize.”

“No need. I was just resting my eyes.”

“I feel so badly you couldn’t sleep last night. Was the bed uncomfortable? I know it’s difficult to sleep when—”

“It wasn’t the bed. That felt wonderful. I was just too wound up. I’ll sleep better tonight.”

“I hope so,” Liza said, sinking in the chair beside Kate. “It’s so kind of you to stay here day in and day out like this…for Adam.”

Her words charged up Kate’s back. “We were close in Venezuela…working together constantly. I can’t help but be concerned.”

“I understand,” Liza said. “You’re a kindhearted young woman.”

“Thank you,” Kate said, not knowing how to respond since her motivation was selfish.

Kate’s gaze drifted toward the door, and a doctor stepped into the room. He gave her a nod and headed their way.

“Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery?”

Kate struggled to keep from rising. Liza stood and joined her husband.

“Yes,” Frank said.

“The EEG shows no permanent damage. We’ll continue with analgesics for pain and keep an eye on him. I noted some extensive swelling, but hopefully that will subside and he’ll regain consciousness soon.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Liza asked.

“Brain stimulation. Talk to him. Patients can often hear. They just can’t respond.”

Liza nodded. “I’ll feel better once I see him this morning.”

“He should be back in his room now if you’d like to check. Once they remove the chest tube, he’ll be going up to the surgical floor later today.”

“That’s great news,” Frank said.

The physician agreed, then departed.

Liza turned to Kate. “We’ll go in for a few minutes.”

“You go ahead.”

His mother clasped her bag, then took her husband’s arm and headed toward the exit.

Kate watched them leave. She’d tried to keep her attitude hopeful, but she wasn’t as optimistic as the physician. Adam had been unconscious too long.

She’d worked with concussion patients before, but Adam’s injury seemed worse. The corner of the cabinet impacted his head above the temple. Wounds like that could cause diffuse axonal injury that resulted in disrupting the neural connections. Time could regenerate the damage, but Adam could be left with significant impairment. The possibility crushed Kate’s hopes.

Pushing herself from the chair, she rose and left the waiting room. She took the elevator to the second floor where she found the chapel empty. She stood at the back, struck by the dramatic stained-glass window at the front. Brightened by sunlight, its colors spread out along the beige carpet, leaving it dappled with red, blue, purple and green.

Kate sank into the last pew and closed her eyes. She needed God’s help—safety for Adam and guidance for her own upside-down world. Wrapped in a moment of silence, she spoke to God, the way she’d done since childhood. Somehow the Lord came through whenever she needed Him the most.

Her prayer centered around Adam, asking God to heal him and return him to good health, unaffected by the horrible wounds he’d received. She prayed for the Lord’s loving guidance to provide her life a new direction. Though she longed to return to Venezuela, she knew God was in charge. Perhaps He had something different in mind to give her life purpose. She would accept the Lord’s will as she’d always done.

Opening her eyes, Kate was gripped by the vivid window in front of her—not the colors, but the scene of Jesus healing the sick. His hands lay on the eyes of a blind man who knelt before him. Nearby, another man stood with his weight supported by crutches. The look on the men’s faces awed Kate, seeing the hope and trust of those who were ill who waited for healing.

Kate carried the thought into her life. Did she have that kind of hope and trust? Today she worried about her future and what she would do about a place to stay until things were sorted out. She stopped herself in midthought. The Lord had sustained her through a difficult childhood. She felt confident God would not let her down.

Feeling uplifted by the depiction on the stained glass and by her prayer, Kate rose and stepped into the corridor. She needed to speak to the nursing director. She didn’t want to put it off any longer. Her destiny lay on the outcome of her superior’s decisions.

Kate’s footsteps tapped along the tile floor as she returned to the elevator and traveled upward to the administration floor. Hopefully today, she’d know her immediate plans, anyway.