A Family For Jana

Ray wondered if there was something special about Jana that was getting through to him.

She was certainly beautiful, but so were a number of other acquaintances, and none of them had made him this introspective. Had she said or done anything that set her apart from all others?

Yet when he closed his eyes, he could still see her there on the hospital bed, her arm around her little son who’d been so very ill, even in sleep cuddling, holding, loving him. Had something that simple, that basic, brought into focus Ray’s own need for closeness?

He wanted to be with Jana, to talk with her, to get to know her for who she really was—not only as an excellent student and loving mother, but apparently a good friend to the other young mothers she’d lived with. And her appreciation of and love for her Gram was also in her favor.

Ray couldn’t sort out his thoughts. For someone who prided himself on his clear thinking, on being able to concentrate on whatever he chose and push from his consciousness things that would interfere, this was almost intolerable!

EILEEN BERGER

has always loved fiction, and even as a teen promised herself that she’d someday write a novel. However, that had to be put on hold as she earned degrees from Bucknell and Temple Universities, then headed up a pathology laboratory in Michigan.

She later married Bob, whom she’d known since childhood, and moved back to north central Pennsylvania, only about twenty miles from where they’d grown up. She did then write several novels, which didn’t sell, although hundreds of articles, short stories and poems were published. It was only in the nineties that her first novels were published—and the one in your hands now is number thirteen.

Eileen is active in writing circles, especially St. Davids Christian Writers Association, whose excellent annual conference is the second oldest and one of the most prestigious of those in America, and possibly in the world.

She says that without these wonderful, caring writers, instructors, co-workers and friends, her career as a Christian writer would have been not only less successful, but much more lonely.

A Family for Jana

Eileen Berger

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear friends, let us love one another,

for love comes from God and knows God.

—I John 4:7

This book is dedicated

to

our blessed grandsons,

Nathanael,

Isaac,

Samuel

and

Karl,

with many prayers and much love,

from your

Grandmother.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

Jana Jenson felt heat rising up her neck and face. She’d heard titters, which called her wandering thoughts back from the hospital; looking toward the front of the college classroom, she realized that Professor Hawkins was staring at her, right eyebrow raised quizzically. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hawkins, did you—ask me something?”

“Yes, I did, Miss Jenson, and….”

She knew better than to interrupt, but it seemed necessary to explain. “My three-year-old son was very sick during the night, and I had to take him to the hospital. My mind was with him, wondering how he’s doing without me there in the pediatric department.”

There was a moment’s silence, but she was looking at her college embryology textbook, fighting for composure. She felt a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, and heard the encouraging voice of Todd Livingston, who was sitting behind her. “I’m sorry, Jana—we all are.”

She nodded to show she’d heard and raised her left hand to cover his for a moment in nonverbal thanks. Linda, on her left, asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Jana risked a glance at the professor, not knowing if he’d be offended if she continued, but others were also asking questions. “Michael’s been having increasingly bad attacks of croup during this past year. I usually get it under control by filling the bathroom with steam and sitting there with him as the medicine takes effect, but last night even that didn’t bring relief.”

She swallowed the unshed tears, which felt as though they were about to choke her. “I finally called nine-one-one, and the paramedics came—and took him by ambulance….” She was still not over the panic, the fear of losing this child for whom she’d already given up so much—her baby, for whom she’d gladly give her life.

“Is he all right now?” Todd asked.

Jana wished she could be sure of that. “He was some better when I left him—” she glanced at her watch “—about forty minutes ago. He’s no longer critical, they tell me. Otherwise—” she looked directly at Dr. Hawkins “—I’ll admit that I would not be here today.”

His expression had changed, and he looked as though about to respond, but Linda was asking, “How will you manage when he gets home again? Do you have your mother—or someone?”

This question she could readily answer. “Gram will take care of things.” But no, Jana wouldn’t go into further details concerning what she owed that wonderful woman who, though not a blood relative, had done so much for her. Gram had far more than filled the void in her life when she was forced to leave home because of dis-obeying her parents’ command. And I have no regrets as to having made that decision!

She tried to force herself to pay close attention to the rest of the lecture. Meiosis. It was undoubtedly a fascinating subject, and she really did want to learn more about the study of which one of each pair of homologous chromosomes goes to each daughter cell. However, as troubled as she was, Jana couldn’t fully concentrate on the lecture.

Class was finally over, and Todd and Linda waited as Jana gathered her things. However, as they passed the large, centrally located front table, Dr. Hawkins asked, “May I please speak with you, Jana?”

That was the first time he’d called her by her given name. Glancing toward her companions, who nodded and left, she hugged her books close to her chest. “Of course.”

Taking a couple steps around the table, he looked into her eyes and said, “I would like to apologize for embarrassing you.”

She wasn’t convinced he was sorry but would try to give him the benefit of the doubt. “It’s all right.”

Perhaps he sensed her reservations. “I should have just gone on with the class, not waited for you to respond.”

She met his gaze. “I may be setting myself up for an F, Professor, but—” I shouldn’t be saying this—I need good marks to keep my scholarship “—I believe you sometimes enjoy playing to your audience.”

His eyelids flickered, then steadied, and she clutched her books closer, sure she’d made a major error in saying that. But then what appeared to be a rueful smile twisted his lips. “Ah, you are a courageous one, Jana Jenson—but I assure you that, though I may be guilty of sometimes playing to my audience, as you so succinctly put it, I never penalize someone for having the courage to speak the truth. There are few who would take that risk.”

His smile seemed to become more sincere, and his right hand cupped her left elbow. “I promise to try doing better—and hereby give permission for you to hold me accountable if I slip up.”

She started to relax, and her responding smile felt as genuine as his now looked. Continuing to hold her books in her left arm, she impulsively thrust out her other hand. “I will cheerfully accept that responsibility, Dr. Hawkins.”

His grip was firm, and he started to say something else, but she’d glanced at the wall clock, appalled. “Oh, no! I must call the hospital before going to my other class this morning! I’m going to be late.”

He lightly tugged the hand he was still holding as he headed for the door. “My office is right down this hallway. You might as well call from there.”

Todd and Linda were waiting outside, their concerned looks changing to puzzlement, then relief as Jana said, “Dr. Hawkins offered the use of his office phone so I can call the hospital. If Michael’s okay, I’ll run over to Richards Hall for my next class.”

Linda nodded. “Any chance of making the noon meeting?”

“Not today.” She shook her head. “Perhaps tomorrow, if he’s a whole lot better.”

“You have meetings each day?” the professor asked as they walked rapidly down the hall.

He was probably just making conversation, but she could, too. “It’s available each noon, but I usually make it only once or twice a week.”

“Noon meetings?”

“Uh-huh. The Christian Association has done this for years.”

“What do—?” But he interrupted himself by inserting the key he’d taken from his pocket, opening the door, turning on the light and indicating the desk phone. “It’s all yours.”

It took only moments to get through to the pediatric department and learn that Michael was asleep. He appeared to be better, although he was still coughing and wheezing some—but that was to be expected, she was told.

“He’s apparently doing okay, and sleeping right now,” she told the man beside her as she replaced the phone. She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, then relaxed a bit. “It’s so scary, especially at night—which is when it almost always happens. I’m grateful that he’s healthy otherwise, and active. Once he’s over even a serious attack, he quickly bounces back.”

“I’m glad.”

“And I must dash!” She was outside the room as she called over her shoulder, “Thanks for the use of your phone.”

Raymond Hawkins stood in his doorway watching the hodgepodge of students, like Jana, rushing to get to their next class. She hurried through the exterior door of the building, and through the glass making up the far side of the covered passageway he saw her leap over the border of blooming tulips and daffodils and run across the grass to save a few seconds.

Only when the door to Richards Hall closed behind her did he turn back to his own office, shut the door, lean back against it—and catch himself sighing. He knew nothing about Jana Jenson—well, almost nothing. He’d noticed that she was not wearing a wedding ring but, until a few minutes ago, had no idea she was the mother of a three-year-old.

And she had guts!

He’d been too aware of her from that very first day in his class. She was incredibly beautiful, with those wide, intense, dark blue eyes and slightly wavy hair the color of that well-pulled brown sugar-taffy he and his sister used to help their mother make each year between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

How long has it been since I’ve thought of doing that—or of eating it? Is it because of her speaking so lovingly of Gram, who would help care for little Michael?

He started going over test papers from the morning’s first class, an advanced one on the human endocrine system, and was pleased that most students were doing well. That class and the one just ended were his favorite courses, partly because of his personal interest, but also because they were electives, so the students taking them were those with a genuine interest in the subjects.

He’d known he would have to mostly teach required subjects for at least the first years of his career. This was his fourth year—since those in power agreed to count that first one, when he’d taken over in early October for a professor who had a massive heart attack. These two courses he’d asked for two years later were something of a reward, he thought, and they made such a difference!

Jana must be older than she looks—or else she had her child when very young. He was surprised to realize his thoughts had reverted to her—and was almost glad when the phone rang and he had to take care of some detailed information. That was much safer than continuing to think of that gorgeous junior. Or might she be only a sophomore?

He did wonder about her. No, she was definitely not wearing a ring on her left hand—and she had a three-year-old son.

And she was evidently a Christian….

Jana slid into the empty seat immediately inside the doorway and, grateful to find the class just beginning, quickly opened her notebook. Statistics. She’d taken it because she thought she should, but was discovering she liked it. Whether I use my early-childhood education degree in a school or some other institution, understanding these principles and problems could be invaluable.

Her mind kept wandering; she so wanted to be with Michael, to hold him and sing to him and calm him if he was frightened or lonely. She did manage to drag her thoughts back fairly quickly each time—but it was taking more and more effort to squelch her eagerness to leave.

Class was eventually over, and she drove to the hospital to find Michael no longer lying listlessly against the high-tilted mattress. He was sitting up in bed, and his face became one big smile. “Mama, you’re back!”

“Yes, sweetie, I sure am, and I plan to stay.” She made sure he saw her place her books on his dresser before going to him. “I came as quickly as I possibly could.”

She pulled away as he shoved a small stuffed raccoon into her face. “Look, Mama, Aunt Vanessa brought him, and his name is Raccie.”

She hugged and kissed Michael, which also gave her the opportunity to make sure he didn’t have an elevated temperature along with his wheezing. “That’s a perfect name for him! Did you think of it all by yourself?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, beaming with pride. “I think lots of things all by myself.”

Her knuckles brushed lightly along his jawline. “You certainly do, and that makes me happy.” After lowering the side rail, she sat on the side of his bed. “And now I want to hear all about your morning—what you saw and who you talked with and everything.”

He rattled on about the nurses, a funny TV cartoon, his Aunt Vanessa, who was actually Gram’s granddaughter, the raccoon and Gram’s phoning while Vanessa was there, saying she’d be coming soon. Jana encouraged his enthusiastic report, rejoicing in his communication skills even while being very aware of his continuing cough and breathing difficulties.

At least neither was as bad as before.

It was some time later that she stood up and, walking toward the door, laid her hand on the books. “I’m leaving my stuff here, Michael, while I go down the hall to talk with one of the nurses.”

His little arms reached toward her. “Don’t go, Mama.”

“I’ll be right back, dear.”

His face began to pucker. “Stay with me.”

She wanted to gather him into her arms, but instead stood there smiling, praying that her manner and voice would reassure him. “I promise to come back very, very soon, Michael.”

A tear formed in each eye. “Last time was a long time.”

“I know, Michael—but remember I told you then that I must go to school and I would be gone quite a while—and I was. And this time I’m saying it will be just a little while, okay?”

His lower lip protruded, but she grinned, quickly walked over to put up the bed rail and left immediately, saying cheerfully, “See you in a tiny little bit, my love.”

She did not turn back when he cried, “Mama, come back, come back!” She leaned against the wall and waited to make sure his starting to cough harder didn’t make his wheezing more serious.

“Something wrong, Miss Jenson?” It was one of the older cleaning ladies. “Something wrong with that dear little boy of yours?”

Maybe I’m what’s wrong. Jana glanced at the woman’s name tag before whispering, “I just got back from my classes, Sandra, and need to speak with Michael’s nurse—but he doesn’t want me to leave.”

A big smile covered the woman’s round face, and her hand on Jana’s waist gave a light shove. “We talked a whole lot while I was cleaning his room, so I’m gonna go in there and visit with that little cutie. We’ll make out fine.” She then walked inside, saying, “Hi, Michael. What have you and Raccie been doing since I left?”

Jana smiled with relief as she heard her son answer the question. There are so many wonderful people in Your world, God! Thanks for letting me get to know that—for letting me know them. And help me not to forget to help others….

She spoke first with the secretary, and was even more grateful for Sandra’s being with Michael as she waited several minutes to talk with the nurse. Margery Caldwell appeared harried, but did say that Michael was doing “as well as can be expected at this time.” Nobody had any idea yet when he might go home, certainly not today—but she assured Jana he was over the worst of the attack.

When Jana returned to Michael’s room, Sandra bent over to kiss his cheek. “See, big guy? Your mom’s returned real quick, like she said—and now I’d better get back to my job before I get in trouble.” On the way to the door she took time to add, “And you, Ms. Jenson, don’t worry so much. We’re here to help take care of your little boy.”

“Thanks, Sandra.” Jana reached out to squeeze her hand. “You have no idea how comforting it is to know that.” She put down the side rail and sat on Michael’s bed again as she told him the nurse said he was better.

“Yep.” He nodded. “Better.”

She touched his chest. “Does it hurt here?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yep.”

“Where did you hurt?”

“Here!” His fingertips beat a brief tattoo on his chest, then moved to his throat. “And here.”

The wheezing. And coughing. “Well, since they’re both better now, would you like to get out of bed?”

He was instantly slithering around her, legs already over the edge of the bed as she grabbed him. “Michael, wait a second! Look down there—how far it is to the floor. This is a high bed, not like yours at home with its short legs.”

She convinced him to sit while she got his pajamas and bunny slippers from the bag she’d brought with her. “And as soon as you go to the bathroom, and change out of that gown and into these clothes, we’ll walk in the hall.”

He was so overjoyed at this prospect that it was difficult to keep him still long enough to slide his legs into the pants and his feet into slippers. She held him as he tugged to run down the hallway. Remembering how very sick he’d been during the night, she wasn’t sure how much energy he should be expending.

At the end of the corridor, she lifted him so he could look out the window. “What do you see, Michael?”

“Oh, trees and grass and sidewalks and men and women and cars and streets and a dog….” It was a singsong reply, with all nouns emphasized. “And clouds and shadows and birds and branches—I see lots of things.”

“Yes, dear, you certainly do see lots of things, and I’m glad you showed them to me. I had not even noticed those shadows.” After all, she and Michael were on the fourth floor.

“Lots of shadows—the big, big one’s from the ho’pital, and the littler ones are from trees—but it’s hard seein’ people shadows.”

It seems to me that these are astute observations my three-year-old is making, but what do I know? Until he was born, I hadn’t been around many babies and small children.

They took their time walking to his room, for he had to investigate a wheelchair and climb on it. She pushed him a short distance before returning it to where it had been, and then they proceeded to his room. She let him press the button to raise the top of the bed and, after removing his slippers and her shoes, she lay down beside him to read several of his favorite books. It wasn’t long before his eyelids were getting heavy, but she made no comment about this, just kept on reading until he was sound asleep.

The rail was still up on the other side of the bed, and she hesitated to lower it in case that might awaken him, or might even make him worse. Laying the book on the bedside table, she turned onto her side with her arm around him and closed her eyes. I should use this time for studying, but I’m exhausted. I’m going to rest a few minutes….

Ray Hawkins was not used to making amends—most times he’d found it wasn’t necessary, particularly now that he was a tenured professor at a well-rated institution. However, though Jana Jenson had indicated that she’d accepted his apology, he still didn’t feel good about what he’d done to necessitate it.

Well, he’d discovered for himself the truth of the florists’ ads—that a dozen long-stemmed roses or some seasonal arrangement did seem to please women. He reached for the phone and started to dial that remembered number—but stopped in time.

There was a good possibility that this particular woman would not only see through his sending flowers, but tell him so!

Like she’d done after his class!

Well, then, he’d send flowers to her son; that shouldn’t offend her. He checked with the hospital for the child’s room number before calling the florist to order something suitable for a three-year-old in some clever pot or vase that a little kid would like.

Feeling pleased with himself after his phone conversation, he returned to looking over the material for tomorrow’s classes then, not bothering with lunch, finished checking over the tests from yesterday. He’d asked only one essay question in addition to all those requiring an answer of a few words, so the task was completed in less time than anticipated.

Picking up his briefcase and suit jacket, Ray left his office for the day, locked the door and went to his car.

On the spur of the moment he stopped at the florist’s to check the arrangement he’d ordered—and was annoyed when told that whichever container and flowers might be used, it wouldn’t be delivered until tomorrow!

Among the assortment of glass, ceramic and pottery containers, one in particular appealed to him. He’d been a railroad buff for as long as he could remember, his particular interest being steam engines. For the last ten years, ever since he was nineteen, he’d belonged to one, then another railroad club. His present one had not only restored an old station house, but also was in the continuing process of revamping an engine, caboose and various cars.

There was no doubt about it—this little steam engine with its burly black bear engineer and antlered-deer fireman was what he wanted for Michael. And it was after making that decision he belatedly recalled that some croup attacks were triggered by certain flowers or strong scents—so what he’d already ordered could be dangerous.

He carried the ceramic engine to the counter and informed the clerk that instead of flowers he wanted small plants in this container, and he’d wait for it to be made up so he could take it to the hospital himself.

The counter person stated she was too busy to do that right now, but he reminded her that she’d not told him on the phone his order wouldn’t be delivered today. Since he’d have to deliver it himself, he’d just borrow the stool from behind the counter and wait until his order was taken care of.

Seating himself in the busiest part of the shop, he began reading the professional journal that had come the day before, and it was no surprise that his order was made up quickly. He carried it to his car, then headed for the hospital, realizing that even though he should be rooting for the child to already be well enough to go home, he couldn’t help selfishly hoping Michael was still there—and that his mother was with him.

The hospital parking lot was almost full, but someone was pulling out of a spot near the entrance, so he slid into that. He seldom went to hospitals because he found them depressing, but this time he didn’t think of that. He did, however, wonder what in the world he could talk about with a child this young—or with anyone else, for that matter—if Jana wasn’t there. How could he explain to a stranger his personally bringing a gift for this child he’d never met?