Crystal said when he brought it up again, and after telling him about camp, she passed the time by reading Bible scriptures aloud and helping Ray find the highway’s lines through thick sheets of black rain.
“I told Katelyn I would get there tonight,” Ray said, glancing at the clock on the dash. “It’s almost eleven.”
They pulled into the hospital at midnight, and when Ray found Sharon in the halls, he broke down once again.
“She stayed up to see you,” Sharon said. Ray buried his face in his wife’s neck and sobbed until there were no tears left to fall.
“When you go in there, you can’t be crying,” Sharon said, almost warning. “You will scare her to death.”
“I know, I know,” he said, wiping his face.
“No matter what we’re dealing with, she’s gonna be fine,” Sharon reassured him, wiping away his tears.
They had been each other’s strength for the past twenty-one years, but Ray had never needed Sharon the way he did now. The storm he had just maneuvered through was nothing like what they were about to face, and rather than black asphalt and white dotted lines, Sharon’s intuition, her mother’s instinct, would be leading the way.
“From now on, I’m not gonna get upset until you tell me I need to get upset. I trust you completely,” Ray said, wiping his eyes before leaving Sharon’s side.
3
Two days earlier, Sharon had returned from a missionary trip in the Dominican Republic to Florida, where her mother lived. Katelyn had been staying with her grandmother for the past week and had complained of an aching back since before she arrived.
“Don’t be picking her up, twirling her around when you see her,” Sharon had warned her mother, Veda, before dropping Katelyn off. “She pulled a muscle in her back lifting a heavy two-year-old little boy the other day.”
“Darlin’, you need to be careful while I’m gone,” she told Katelyn when they arrived at her mother’s house. “You need to let that muscle heal.”
During the week she was there, Veda took Katelyn twice to see Dr. Gary Soud, her pediatrician from the time she was born until a year before when she and her family moved from Florida to Tennessee. After ruling out a sore muscle, Katelyn’s doctor tried antibiotics for kidney or bladder infections, but by the time Sharon returned from the Dominican Republic, Katelyn was crawling on her hands and knees.
The night Sharon arrived, Katelyn was asleep in the spare bedroom of Veda’s house, and Sharon curled up beside her.
“I’m here, sweetie,” she whispered.
Katelyn, lost in a dream, whispered, “No, you’re not. You’re not here.” She knew her mother was out of the country.
“Yes, I am, baby. Mom’s right here,” Sharon said.
In the darkness of the room, Katelyn reached out her hand to Sharon’s arm and caressed it gently, hopefully, letting her fingers drape over her mother’s, grabbing at the shape of her arm, its texture and warmth.
“You are here!” she nearly yelled, sitting up straight, holding her mother tight.
4
When Sharon took Katelyn to see Dr. Soud the next day, Katelyn could not stand up straight and could hardly walk. He verified Sharon’s concern that there was more going on than some kind of infection—possibly a pinched nerve or an extended disc from lifting the heavy child. He ordered an MRI of her lower back for the following day.
The standard twenty-minute MRI took an hour and a half, with the machine scanning much higher than Katelyn’s lower back, crawling up her spine to the tip of her head.
“Lord, hold me up and get me through whatever we have to face,” Sharon whispered toward the sky as she leaned against the wall, watching doctors come and go from the room where her daughter was stuck in a machine that would soon reveal their future. She knew something was very, very wrong.
When Dr. Soud got the results that afternoon, he called Sharon on the phone.
“I can’t get away from the
“I told Katelyn I would get there tonight,” Ray said, glancing at the clock on the dash. “It’s almost eleven.”
They pulled into the hospital at midnight, and when Ray found Sharon in the halls, he broke down once again.
“She stayed up to see you,” Sharon said. Ray buried his face in his wife’s neck and sobbed until there were no tears left to fall.
“When you go in there, you can’t be crying,” Sharon said, almost warning. “You will scare her to death.”
“I know, I know,” he said, wiping his face.
“No matter what we’re dealing with, she’s gonna be fine,” Sharon reassured him, wiping away his tears.
They had been each other’s strength for the past twenty-one years, but Ray had never needed Sharon the way he did now. The storm he had just maneuvered through was nothing like what they were about to face, and rather than black asphalt and white dotted lines, Sharon’s intuition, her mother’s instinct, would be leading the way.
“From now on, I’m not gonna get upset until you tell me I need to get upset. I trust you completely,” Ray said, wiping his eyes before leaving Sharon’s side.
3
Two days earlier, Sharon had returned from a missionary trip in the Dominican Republic to Florida, where her mother lived. Katelyn had been staying with her grandmother for the past week and had complained of an aching back since before she arrived.
“Don’t be picking her up, twirling her around when you see her,” Sharon had warned her mother, Veda, before dropping Katelyn off. “She pulled a muscle in her back lifting a heavy two-year-old little boy the other day.”
“Darlin’, you need to be careful while I’m gone,” she told Katelyn when they arrived at her mother’s house. “You need to let that muscle heal.”
During the week she was there, Veda took Katelyn twice to see Dr. Gary Soud, her pediatrician from the time she was born until a year before when she and her family moved from Florida to Tennessee. After ruling out a sore muscle, Katelyn’s doctor tried antibiotics for kidney or bladder infections, but by the time Sharon returned from the Dominican Republic, Katelyn was crawling on her hands and knees.
The night Sharon arrived, Katelyn was asleep in the spare bedroom of Veda’s house, and Sharon curled up beside her.
“I’m here, sweetie,” she whispered.
Katelyn, lost in a dream, whispered, “No, you’re not. You’re not here.” She knew her mother was out of the country.
“Yes, I am, baby. Mom’s right here,” Sharon said.
In the darkness of the room, Katelyn reached out her hand to Sharon’s arm and caressed it gently, hopefully, letting her fingers drape over her mother’s, grabbing at the shape of her arm, its texture and warmth.
“You are here!” she nearly yelled, sitting up straight, holding her mother tight.
4
When Sharon took Katelyn to see Dr. Soud the next day, Katelyn could not stand up straight and could hardly walk. He verified Sharon’s concern that there was more going on than some kind of infection—possibly a pinched nerve or an extended disc from lifting the heavy child. He ordered an MRI of her lower back for the following day.
The standard twenty-minute MRI took an hour and a half, with the machine scanning much higher than Katelyn’s lower back, crawling up her spine to the tip of her head.
“Lord, hold me up and get me through whatever we have to face,” Sharon whispered toward the sky as she leaned against the wall, watching doctors come and go from the room where her daughter was stuck in a machine that would soon reveal their future. She knew something was very, very wrong.
When Dr. Soud got the results that afternoon, he called Sharon on the phone.
“I can’t get away from the
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