Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

“They’re very experienced there; you’ll be in excellent hands. They’ve got more resources for this kind of illness than we do; and if you need a transplant, they can get you on the list and handle the surgery. Your nurse will be in with the transfer paperwork shortly; once we get that done we’ll get you into an ambulance and they’ll take you up.” He looked to Shaun, then Savannah. “Do you have any questions?”

Questions? Savannah wanted to laugh. Of course she had questions. But she didn’t have the mental strength to line them all up. She looked up to Shaun. Shaun coughed then said with a strangled voice, “What are the chances… I mean, how long will it be before she gets a new heart?”

“They’ll be able to give you that kind of information in Aurora.”

“Will a new heart fix everything?”

The doctor’s face brightened. “It should, yes. That’s the source of all the trouble right now. If we get that fixed, you should be good as new, barring any rejection complications. I don’t know the stats on that, either – another question Aurora can help you with. But they’ll go over all that with you when you get there.”

Dr. Wells took Savannah’s hand. “I’m sorry things are working out this way, Savannah. You’ve been a pleasure to work with. Come back and visit us when you’re back to your old self.” He nodded to them both, then left.

Shaun sank into the chair beside her. “It’s not like we didn’t see it coming. But having it all official…” He coughed again, his way of covering for his breaking voice. She squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed back, which made her smile. “Okay, time for the really awkward conversation.” He looked up from his lap, but still not into her eyes. “It’s been ten years since we looked at our will, Savannah. We should do that… soon.”

She blinked at him. “Seriously? Don’t jinx things!”

“I’m not jinxing them; I just want to make sure we’re prepared. It’s the Boy Scout in me. Our life now is nothing like it was a decade ago; we need to account for that, make sure everything is covered. Think of it this way-if we do it, we won’t need it, right? It’s a law of nature. You prepare for the worst so that the worst doesn’t happen.”

She turned her head away, her gaze going to the unremarkable view beyond her second-floor window. She knew in her heart he was right, but still, the thought of making those kinds of preparations… actually, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she should probably make some other preparations as well. Just in case.

“Memorial service, too. So we don’t need it.”

“Oh, Van.” Shaun’s voice cracked. She took his hand as tears came to her own eyes. She didn’t have the strength to fight them back, or to even cry them out. They slipped down her cheeks, and she conjured the image of her dream, her body bounding through the street, her hair long-though she’d had it short for years – flowing behind her. She imagined handing the dream to God as she prayed, flat-out begging that this not be the end.

SHAUN POPPED ANOTHER PRETZEL IN HIS MOUTH AS HE SAT AT the red light. They were stale, but washed down with water they weren’t too bad. He’d found them that morning in the back of the pantry, a forgotten snack from the Fourth of July picnic he and Jessie had thrown while Savannah had been on tour. Lately he’d been skipping both breakfast and lunch, but he’d worked up an appetite helping Jessie pack up her car that morning. She’d been torn on whether or not to go back to campus, but he’d insisted she leave, since they had no idea when a heart might become available. “No use sitting around here,” he’d said. “Might as well go and keep yourself busy.”

He hadn’t admitted how jealous he was that she had somewhere to go, an excuse for not going up to the hospital every day to do nothing but read and watch TV while Savannah wasted away on the bed beside him. It was depressing, to be honest. Depressing and scary. When she was awake-which wasn’t often – she was confident God wasn’t ready to take her yet. He wouldn’t have been surprised to hear God had told her that himself. He could see in her eyes that she had changed, had tapped back into that connection with him that Shaun had never really had. He was a little jealous.

The drive from A &A’s office, where he spent the mornings, to the hospital in Aurora took nearly an hour and a half. Savannah tried to talk him into getting a hotel room and working remotely, but he couldn’t bear to spend the money – though the gas wasn’t all that much cheaper. Instead, he did everything he needed to do in the mornings, foregoing business and staff meetings since he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and then went to the hospital in the afternoon to wait for good news.

He was late today, however. He’d left work at lunch, like always, then had headed for home to scrape together some lunch from what was left in the fridge and pantry. He’d been slowed by a funeral procession that crossed in front of him at a stoplight, and the view of the hearse was like a kick to the solar plexus.

He’d been doing pretty well up until then. He had so much else to worry about-the medical bills, the fact that they had no savings, the email threats he was getting-that he’d been able to effectively lose himself in those issues and not confront the fact that his wife was dying. But as the gray car slid past him, his fear of losing Savannah and the pain he’d been burying erupted to the surface. As the slow parade of cars drove through the intersection, he choked out sobs that shook his whole body and left his throat raw.

The uncorking of his emotions sent him into a tailspin. He couldn’t get a grip. A life without Savannah… it was unfathomable. No one could ever love him like Savannah did. And no one in the world was like her. No one made him laugh so hard or love so much. Everything he did was for her, and he liked it that way. And after twenty-two years of marriage, he still thought she was as sexy and beautiful as she’d been when they’d met in college. Without her, the capstone of his world was gone. Everything would crumble to dust.

Once home, he stood in the shower and prayed aloud in the steam, alternately begging God for Savannah’s life and railing at him for the mess he found himself in. When the water went cold, he forced himself to dress and find food, though all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a week. He just had too much to face, too much to worry over and try to solve. Too much he could do nothing about. The thought of escape was bliss, though what form of escape he was unable to let himself ponder. Too many details and he might actually attempt it.

Back at the hospital he pulled into the parking lot and checked his reflection in the rear view mirror. The shower had removed the outward traces of his breakdown, but he wondered if the ever-perceptive Savannah would see it in his eyes.

He let himself daydream, as he crossed the blacktop to the hospital doors, about what it would be like when they finally got The Call. How hope would bring the light back to Savannah’s weary face, how he would be fully consumed – for the meantime, anyway – by the fact that his wife would soon be back to normal. He hadn’t thought much about what that day would be like. It actually made him smile.

The one problem was that the good news they were hoping for would soon be irrelevant. With her condition declining at this rate, Savannah would eventually be too sick to withstand the stresses of the surgery. It was a race against time now, a race he didn’t usually acknowledge because the reality of it was too much to shoulder. He knew Savannah was convinced a heart would come in time, but God sure was cutting it close.