A Family For Jana. Eileen Berger

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      Chapter Two

      In her dream she’d just relived Dr. Hawkins saying she had his permission to hold him accountable—then here he was, a few feet away. She smiled lazily, then sobered as she realized where she was, lying in bed with her arm around her son, who’d been so sick.

      “Oh….” It was an almost silent interjection as she cautiously straightened her arm, made sure her skirt was covering her thighs, then rolled over to sit on the side of the bed. “I—didn’t know you were here,” she whispered.

      His voice was equally soft. “I just arrived, and I’m glad you were able to sleep. You must have needed it.”

      She stood up. “I was awake all night.”

      “Well, I—uh…” He looked almost embarrassed as he picked up the ceramic train engine holding several green plants. “I hoped that maybe your son—your Michael would like this. He’s not allergic to just foliage, is he?”

      This man is really ill at ease—and I’ve seen that twice today. I never suspected…. Jana held the gift in both hands. “This is lovely, and I appreciate your considering possible allergies. Several of his worst attacks followed being around Easter lilies, poinsettias and mums—and I suspect carnations, though that was only once.”

      “Is there anything you can do to control it—shots or anything?”

      “It was discussed the last time we were at his pediatrician’s—and we’re scheduled to see the allergist next week.” She glanced toward the calendar on the wall. “Which reminds me to call him today.”

      They’d moved across the room so they wouldn’t be as apt to wake the sleeping child, and she was in the doorway when she saw Gram come around the corner. Jana hurried to meet her and put her arms around the older woman, who was asking, “How is our little sweetheart?”

      “Much better! He’s still wheezing, but has been sleeping for well over an hour. He hasn’t coughed much during that time.”

      “Good!” But then she cautioned, “Don’t be alarmed, though, if he does some when he gets awake.”

      “I realize he’s probably continuing to produce phlegm, and his body will try to loosen it.” She briefly wondered about the best way to account for this man being here and decided on making a simple, straightforward introduction. “Gram, this is Dr. Raymond Hawkins. Professor Hawkins, I’d like you to meet Mrs. MaryJean McHenry, one of the most special people I’ve ever known.”

      “Ah, yes, the biology professor,” Gram said, not looking at all surprised as she stretched out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Dr. Hawkins.”

      He took the necessary step forward to clasp her hand. “And I’m honored to meet you, Mrs. McHenry.”

      Gram admired the planter. “Some of our relatives were involved with railroads. There used to be a short line that ran right through Sylvan Falls, which accounts for our still having a Railroad Street.”

      This definitely got his attention, for he asked a number of questions. It was some time later when Gram asked, “Have you eaten anything, Jana?”

      “I was in too much of a hurry to get back here, then didn’t want to leave Michael.”

      Gram stood there shaking her head. “Look, dear, you’ve got to start taking care of yourself, not only for your sake, but his.”

      “Granted, but there seem to be exceptions to even the most logical of rules.” She smiled. “And, really, that little nap I had with him did me more good than a multicourse dinner.”

      “Could be.” Gram wasn’t about to argue, but looked toward Ray. “Why don’t you take Jana down to the cafeteria while I’m here to stay with Michael?”

      “Gram!” She was mortified at Gram’s asking him to do that. “Dr. Hawkins is a busy man. He doesn’t have to escort me downstairs!”

      But Ray was saying at the same time, “That’s a great suggestion, Mrs. McHenry—especially since I also neglected to eat.”

      “But—”

      “I don’t enjoy always eating alone, Jana, and this is close enough to the evening meal that a sandwich or dish of ice cream later will take care of that.”

      His smile was almost boyish, and there seemed to be a twinkle in his eye. Jana still didn’t feel right about this, but replied, “Wel-l-l, since we both do need to eat, I guess it makes sense to do it now. But if Michael’s at all upset about my leaving….”

      Gram laughed and raised her hand as though taking an oath. “My dear Jana, I promise to take good care of him.”

      “I’m sorry. You know more about babies and children than I ever will. It’s just that I was so scared last night and this morning.”

      “Why wouldn’t you be? I was, too.”

      Michael had flopped over on the bed to where Jana had recently been lying, and she wondered if by any chance she’d left some scent there—if it was more than happenstance that made the sleeping child seem to relax. Her arms ached with the almost irrepressible urge to gather her son close, to hold him, but she picked up her small purse and led the way from the room.

      They engaged in small talk about college activities. No, she was not involved with any clubs or organizations—except for that noon meeting, which she sometimes attended when staying for an afternoon lab or to work at the library. She’d had no expectation of continuing to talk about that, but did when he asked another question. “It’s quite informal. Different people volunteer to read a scripture and share thoughts, and then there’s always some discussion and a time of prayer.”

      “Do you volunteer?”

      She glanced at him as she led the way into the empty elevator. “Not yet, though I should, for it’s been helpful for me.”

      She wondered if he’d like it, but had no way of knowing, since he changed the subject to something he’d recently read about in an endocrinology journal as they entered the cafeteria.

      She’d expected to have just a bowl of soup and a sandwich, but he talked her into a full meal when he said, “What are the odds that your little one won’t want you leaving to eat later?”

      “You’re right, of course. And by then Gram will be back in Sylvan Falls.”

      “You’re not going to stay here again tonight, are you?”

      “I don’t expect to, not unless Michael gets worse, which could happen. His attacks usually don’t begin until after eleven, most frequently between midnight and two.”

      “You plan to stay that long?”

      He sounded concerned, and she shook her head. “Just until he’s asleep—if he’s still doing this well. He’s ordinarily a good sleeper, so I’m praying we’ll both rest well tonight.”

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