A Family of Their Own - By Gail Gaymer Martin Page 0,29
to the people around him who joined him in their personal waits. Hospitals, doctor’s offices, appointments.
Stretching his legs, Ross closed his eyes. As always, the embarrassing evening flew into his mind. Kelsey’s lips, so soft, pliant. He’d allowed the kiss to haunt him that evening as they talked, wondering how he could make it happen. He’d envisioned and sensed the delightful touch of her mouth on his. He’d plotted, only to have the vision die like a snapped movie film, leaving only white light on the screen. The porch light.
The question that obsessed him now was Kelsey’s reaction. She’d looked uncomfortable. Worse than uncomfortable. Had it been Mrs. Butler and the porch light or the kiss? Naturally, he wouldn’t ask her. Not knowing seemed safer.
“Dad.”
Ross’s head jerked upward. Peyton stood at the waiting-room doorway with a technician at her side. He rose and met them outside the door. He slipped his arm around Peyton’s shoulders. “How did it go?”
She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
He turned his attention to the young woman. He caught a glimpse of her name tag. Julie Long. “Do you know what took so long?”
“Dr. Timmons ordered an echocardiogram plus bloodwork.” Julie offered a half grin. “We’re extra busy today so it took longer.”
What’s new? Ross drew up his shoulders. “What now?”
Julie gave him a questioning look. “You’re free to go. Someone will get back to you once Dr. Timmons receives the reports.”
“Did everything look—”
“Sorry, Mr. Salburg.” She shook her head. “I don’t read the tests. You’ll have to ask Peyton’s physician.”
He knew that, but he always hoped he might hear something hopeful. “Thanks.”
He picked up Peyton’s jacket from the chair he’d vacated and held it for her to slip on. “Let’s go out to lunch. What do you say?”
“Can we go to Red Robin?”
He drew her to his side and gave her a one-arm hug. “Why not?”
For once, her steps bounced beside him, and the animation uplifted him. One day, she could run and play like other kids. That had been his prayer since she was diagnosed. But he’d had a similar prayer for her mother. God didn’t listen.
Inside the parking structure, Ross located his van and opened the door for Peyton. When he headed for his door, he thought about Kelsey again. He’d opened the passenger door on their first real date and walked with her to the porch. I always walk my dates to the door, he’d told her. He’d been raised a gentleman. One day Peyton would have a young man walk her to the door. The image burned in his mind. He wanted to see her healthy and married. He wanted her to be a mother. He would be a grandfather. This time he prayed the Lord would listen.
Shame scuffled through him as he slid into the driver’s seat. He knew better. The Lord didn’t always say yes to prayer. He’d learned that from childhood, but a no, when talking life and death, seemed unloving. God is love. He’d read that in the Bible. So what was loving about taking his wife and maybe his daughter? How could a loving God do that?
“Dad?”
He stared at the windshield and then Peyton. “What?”
“Why are we just sitting here?”
Why? Good question. Ross slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, then backed up and headed for the exit. Before he reached it, his cell phone rang. He raised his hip and pulled it from his pocket. His pulse lurched. Kelsey.
“What’s up?” He hoped he sounded casual.
“You didn’t come to the MOSK meeting today.”
“I’m just leaving the hospital. Peyton had—”
“Peyton? Is something wrong?” Panic filled her voice.
“Just tests her doctor ordered. Typical bloodwork and a heart echo. No results yet. I have to make an appointment with Dr. Timmons once they let me know the reports are in.”
“You scared me.” A stream of air filtered through the line. “I thought you’d come to the meeting today, so I wondered.”
“Next week…unless something else happens.”
“I hope not. The ladies are anticipating your visit. They’re curious, I suppose.”
“I suppose.” He pictured a group of women gaping at him throughout the meeting. How could he relax and open up with that kind of pressure? Though he’d thought being part of the group might be helpful, now he began to question his enthusiasm.
“Ross?”
He yanked his head upward, her concern in her voice. “I’m here.”
“You were quiet.” Now she was. “I noticed Hanson is doing a concert at Joe Louis Arena.”
“Hanson?” The name sounded vaguely familiar but that was it. “What kind