Fiction

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Author’s note:

I offer here the first eight chapters of a new novel that is still in progress:

This is a work of fiction. Some of the characters in the story are based on real people, but names have been changed and their connection to the story is fictional. The town of Lakeview, Oregon is pretty much accurately described and the places mentioned in the story do exist, or at least they did at the time of this writing. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.





1

Sometimes you reach a point when things have been going bad when you think that it can’t get any worse. Today is one of those times. My name is Marla Kettering and I am a single mother of three kids; one thirteen years old, Carla, who knows everything there is to know, and her two younger siblings Jay, seven, and Chrissy, who is five. Christian, my husband was killed in Iraq when a roadside bomb took out his Humvee. Chris was a journalist embedded with a military group. He was hoping that his coverage of the war was going to make him the next Ernie Pyle. Now the only thing the two of them share is being killed by the enemy. Chris was killed before he had a chance to file his first report on the war.
Life has been lonely since Chris died, in spite of being surrounded by family and friends. The kids require most of my attention, but the back of my mind is still occupied with the man I will always love. I know in my heart that I will never find anyone who can take his place.

Chris and I met when we were in high school. I was sixteen and he was eighteen and a senior big man on campus. I was flattered when he even paid attention to me; I was a junior. Chris was, well, not a star, but a good player on the school football team, and was class president of his senior class and editor of the school paper. For him to even notice me seemed like a miracle, at least to me it did.
I was sitting in the cafeteria eating my lunch with two girlfriends, all three of us talking about the boys at the table down a little from us. We were all pretty much taken by Chris, and had seen him in the halls and on the playing field, but he seemed so un-approachable to us at the time. I guess that is why I was so surprised when he got up from the table he was at and came to ours. “Hi, I’m Chris Kettering. Would you mind if I sat here with you?” We knew he was Chris Kettering, he didn’t have to tell us that. He was looking at all three of us when he asked, but I know the question was directed right to me.
“No, we don’t mind.” At least I didn’t, the only empty chair was right next to me. I think Chris noticed that too. We ate our lunches and enjoyed a little small talk and when Laura and Betty got up to take their tray’s back, I lingered for a minute to talk some more with Chris.
He wasted little time in asking, “Would you like to go to a movie or something this weekend?”
I felt my heart skip a beat. Was he really asking me, Marla Davis, for a date? “Are you asking me to go out with you? Of course you are, you just did, I mean, yes, I would love to go out with you.” I was a nervous wreck. Sometimes when I’m nervous I tend to rattle some. “Oh God, I hope he doesn’t think I’m a klutz.” I thought to myself.
That weekend would be the first of many we would spend together, and the beginning of my new life. Chris graduated and attended the journalism school of University of Oregon in Eugene. As soon as I graduated high school, he asked me to marry him. I had no intentions of going to college, and the offer was too good to refuse. My parents weren’t too happy with me wanting to marry before exploring life a little more, but I knew that Chris was all the life I needed to explore. I was, and still am, so in love with that man.





















2
Chris had submitted some free lance stuff to one of the local newspapers, and in his sophomore year he was offered a job as a reporter. In time, some his local stories were picked up by a news service that is used by bigger papers and in no time, he found himself working full time as a reporter for the Oregonian, the states leading newspaper. It’s a good thing he now had a paying job, since I was pregnant with Carla. We were both thrilled that we were to become parents. Chris had to quit college to devote more of his time to making a living, but he didn’t mind, since he already had his foot pretty much in the door.
Carla was born in December of 1994. The Republicans had just taken control of both houses of congress, and there was promise of smaller government and lower taxes. The lower tax thing sounded good to me, as we were now having a little tougher time making ends meet. Chris thought that since were going to be parents that we needed our own house. The apartment was alright for the two of us, but raising kids, we would need a nice house with a back yard. We had managed to save up some money, not really enough for a decent down payment, but there were many lending institutions willing to grant loans with smaller downs and we found one that qualified us. We moved into our new home in August; three bedrooms two and a half baths and a $250,000 mortgage. We really weren’t qualified for a house that expensive, but we loved the place, and our loan broker told us to just “fudge” a little on our income figures. Chris figured he would be making more soon anyway, so we “fudged” the figures, and like magic, we qualified. We took out what is called an ARM, an acronym for adjustable rate mortgage. It had an initial interest rate of 3.5% and was guaranteed to stay that low for at least two years. Chris figured that we could re-fi at the end of the two years with a low fixed rate, and that by then he would be earning more than enough that even if we didn’t re-fi we would still be okay.
Chris was starting to be noticed for his comprehensive writing style. Soon his stories were being picked up by news services all over the country, and even the New York Times and Wall Street Journal were using his stuff. Money was coming in now much better than before, and Chris Kettering was becoming a household name. His stories were being read by people from the east to the west coasts and from North Dakota to the Texas tip. Chris spent a lot of time on the go, away from me and Carla, but when he was home, he more than made up for it. He always spent the first night back home just enjoying me and Carla, but each second night we got a baby sitter and it was just the two of us out on the town for a meal and maybe a play or just sitting in the park if the weather was nice.
It was on one of those nights, in early August, while sitting out under the stars at a local park, that I told Chris that he was going to be a father again. He was happy to hear that I was pregnant again, but made me promise that this one was going to be a son. I reminded him that that was his department, not mine. I promised anyway. In January of 2000, James Christian Kettering was born. We call him Jay. We both figured that our family was now complete; one girl and one boy.
Carla had been a colicky baby and was awake what seemed like most of the time, until she was almost a year old. She took up most of my strength to that point. As soon as she started to walk, though, that all seemed to change. She became a delight, but needed watching constantly.
Jay, on the other hand was an ideal baby from the time we brought him home from the hospital. He slept for four hours at time between feedings, and he smiled and cooed at us all the time he was awake. Carla was six now, and her nose was a little bent out of shape because she was not the center of attention anymore. Soon, even she became enamored with the new member of our family. We were as happy as a family could expect to be.















3

Chris was on an assignment in New York when I heard on the news that a plane had just crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center. I had the TV on to one of the morning news shows when the crash was reported, and I was drawn to the screen to see if they had any pictures. The coverage was of the crash that had just occurred, and speculation was that somehow an airliner got off course and lost altitude. While the coverage was going on, the feed went to a second plane seemingly on a course to collide with the south tower, and suddenly, things started to fall into place. This wasn’t an arbitrary accident. We were being attacked.
“Oh my God, where is Chris? Surely he’s not in one of those buildings.” My heart was suddenly in my throat. I tried to reach him on his cell phone, but I couldn’t get through. I tried to call the Times to ask them if they knew where he was assigned, but couldn’t get through since all of the lines were overloaded with callers. I had to resolve myself to wait for him to call me. I knew in my heart that he was safe. He had to be safe.
Chris’ call finally came through after about what seemed like an eternity, but was only a couple of hours. He had been in the area of the crash covering a finance related story when the first plane hit. He immediately left his assignment and literally ran the five blocks to the trade center. He got there just after the second plane crashed into the south tower. The first building was a plume of smoke from the top floors and occupants were storming out of both buildings by now, aided by firefighters and police. When the first building began to collapse, Chris was within a block, recorder in hand dictating the story that would change our future, forever.
Nobody had ever seen or expected to see anything like what had just happened. It was soon discovered that a group of middle eastern men, mostly Saudi’s, had hijacked four airliners at nearly the same time. Aside from the two that hit the twin towers, there was one that plowed into the Pentagon and another that was forced by some of the passengers to crash into a field in Pennsylvania. It was later discovered that the Pennsylvania plane was intended to target the Capitol in Washington DC. By the time it was all over, more than 3000 people had died.
Chris filed his story, which was picked up by internet outlets, local newspapers all over the country and in most of the major markets. His audio recording of the event as it was happening was played over radio and TV stations across the country. Chris was approached by NBC to serve as a video reporter for the network. His amazing good looks combined with his writing and reporting skill made him a natural for the job. I was so very proud of him, but at the same time heartbroken by the events that brought this opportunity.
Whenever tragedy strikes, it seems there is always someone who benefits. In this case, it was Chris and me. The once seemingly impossible house payments were now more manageable. America was still in shock, but we were prospering like we never had before. With Chris’ new job came a sizable increase in our spendable income. While we still felt the effects of 9/11, we were able to ease our personal situation. Life does go on.
Shortly after 9/11, President Bush got congress to agree to give him authority to invade Iraq. I remember thinking at the time “Why Iraq? Weren’t most of those terrorists Saudi Arabian?” Then when he sent troops into Afghanistan to find Osama bin Laden, I wondered, “If he’s there, why did we send troops to Iraq?” It seems there were lots of folks asking the same questions, but we were told that Saddam Hussein was building nuclear weapons and had to be stopped. After toppling the Hussein government and capturing Saddam himself, there were still no weapons of mass destruction found in Iraq. Anti war sentiment from the usual crowd was beginning to mount, but by this time, America was committed to fighting this war to the finish. Chris was assigned to interviews with left wing protestors who wanted Bush impeached. While he didn’t agree with them, he filed some pretty good professionally handled interviews which aired in prime time. He always tried to be fair even with those who he didn’t see eye to eye with.
It was during the time of 9/11 or shortly thereafter, that I became pregnant with Chrissy. We hadn’t planned to have another child, but we weren’t disappointed. She was born on September 9, 2002, almost a year to the day of the terrorist attacks. I thank God for the two day reprieve. I would hate to be reminded of 9/11 each time we celebrated our Chrissy’s birthday.





4

Just after Chrissy’s fifth birthday, Chris was asked if he would like the opportunity to go to Iraq. It should have been a pretty safe assignment. The war there seemed to be on a downward swing, with the Iraqi forces having enough trained people to handle most of their problems. American presence was only there to help get that end met. There was, however, still a lot of hostility toward Americans, and there is always danger of some radical element causing problems.
Chris was embedded; I always thought that was a strange term; with one of the units assigned to keep watch on the still ongoing hostilities. The troops mostly just patrolled the streets and highways looking for possible threats. It was a pretty uneventful assignment, or was supposed to be anyway. Chris was on his first trip with the unit. He was with three other Americans, all military, in the second Humvee in a three vehicle unit. They had not been on the road for fifteen minutes when the improvised explosive device, or “IED” went off. The Army tells me that Chris didn’t feel a thing. I guess that IED hurt me and the kids more than it did Chris. All of the other three men in the Humvee survived, although one of them lost both legs and sight in one eye. That is damn little consolation to me. God forgive me.
Chris was given a burial with honors. President Bush personally offered his condolences and thanked me for Chris’ dedication. I felt like telling him that Chris wasn’t dedicated to a war that he, the president, got America involved in. I wanted to slap the man. I realize now that what I felt was the reaction to my grief. It has been six years since 9/11, and our country has not been attacked again, and for this, I should have been thanking him. I probably will never forgive him for being the cause of my husband’s death though, right or wrong.
It’s 2007 and I find myself with no college education, no skills, the mother of three young children, alone and lost. I still have the big mortgage on the home Chris, the children and I shared. It’s not the same home now, without Chris. It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t see any way that I will be able to keep up the payments on the loan. We have a little savings, but nothing like I will need to keep the house. Chris had a little life insurance, but like most people our age, dying was the last thing we had on our minds. We were both hoping to be able to put the kids through college, if that is what they wanted, but now, even that idea seems silly. With Chris gone, life doesn’t seem to have any hope.
Before we moved to Portland, Chris and I attended a small Assembly of God church in our home town of Lakeview. The AG is what is called a Pentecostal evangelical church. I’m not sure I ever understood what that means, but I do know that we worshipped God and Jesus the same as most of the other churches in our town. When we moved to Portland, Chris was on the move so much that he didn’t keep up attendance, but I always took the children to church each Sunday. When Chris was in town on Sundays he always joined us, and was one of the most famous of those attending. He always had members coming to him to hear his comments on the political and economic scene. He was usually embarrassed by the notice he got. He told me once that he almost hated to go to church because he wasn’t allowed to worship as he wanted. He always hated the attention he got because of what he did, instead of who he was. Chris was a real Christian. He always reminded me of a saying attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, “Preach the Gospel at all times, and if necessary, use words.” Chris lived his life as a testimony to what a Christian is supposed to be. He didn’t often use words, but he displayed by example what it meant to be a follower of God.
Now I find myself having a hard time to live in the Christian walk. I want to blame someone for my loss, and I find myself blaming God. How, why, would a loving God take my husband and my children’s father away from us? Why was he the only one to die in that explosion? I would rather have him home without legs and blind in one eye than lost to us completely.














5

I knew I would not be able to keep up the payments on the house, and in the last few years we had seen the value of our modest home go up to well over $350,000 and then drop to less than $300,000. The market for homes was bad throughout most of the country, but in Portland, and some other major hubs there was still a market for good housing. I decided to put the house on the market for what ever I could get and move back to Lakeview. I was fortunate to find a buyer for $285,000 and after paying real estate fees I came out with enough to move us and find a reasonable rental. Now I needed a job that didn’t require a college education and would still pay enough to keep us in food, rent, and utilities.
Lakeview doesn’t offer a lot of opportunity for work. It is mostly a retirement community in a once prosperous lumber milling area. Now only one mill is in operation, and its future is always in question. We have a Safeway and another grocery store, Stewarts; several beauty salons, a few bars, the county court house and offices, the mill and a couple of related wood processing businesses as well as a couple of car dealerships. There are a few restaurants, most of which have a pretty good turnover in wait staff. I thought that would be a good place to start. I know waitressing doesn’t offer the greatest pay, but the pickings are slim for a non college graduate.
There’s a Jerry’s coffee shop/diner in town, and I put in my application there, as well as at a couple of other places. I also applied at Safeway, where they seemed to always be looking for help.
Safeway agreed to put me on part time. I couldn’t live on just part time, but I took the job, hoping that one of my other applications would kick in as well. My mom and dad still live in Lakeview, so I convinced Mom to watch the kids when they weren’t in school. By now Chrissy was in kindergarten and spent half a day at school, so Mom only had to be there when they came home, if I was working.
My work shifts allowed me time each morning to get the kids off to school at first, but when Jerry’s called me and said they had an opening for the breakfast shift, I had to take the offer. This meant that Mom had to come over early in the morning when I worked, or I had to get the kids ready and take them to her. We both agreed that it would be easier for her to come to my place than for me to get the kids moved to her. Between my two jobs, I was now working between forty and fifty hours a week.
Fortunately, I managed to keep my Sundays off, and was able to take the kids to church. I might have still been a little mad at God, but I wanted the kids to be able to know Him anyway.
Over the years since we moved the church had changed quite a bit. One of the pastors had done a little remodel of the building in order to get more room for a growing congregation. Our church building is rectangular and at one time had two rows of seating in long rows facing one of the narrow ends; kind of the traditional look of most churches. After the remodel, offices and classrooms that were at the pulpit end were removed and the seating was arranged to where they faced one of the wide walls and some additional bench pews were placed in the front rows and on one end.
After the remodel the pastor who created the need for extra seating was offered an opportunity to move to a larger church in Klamath Falls. When he moved, the church found itself without a pastor, and before I moved back, they had gone through three or four, one of which was there for a little over three years. After then going through a short period with the deacons conducting services, a new pastor from Klamath Falls was voted in. He was young, energetic, spirit filled, and just what the doctor had ordered for the church.
Unfortunately, the financial situation of the church had deteriorated during the period of transition. The once needed extra seating had long gone unfilled and tithes were down to a point that taking on a paid pastor was not an option. When the new pastor offered his resume he was told that the church could not pay him. To their surprise, he accepted anyway. “If I can’t build up this church to where it can afford to pay me it is not the churches fault, it is mine. If God wants me here as your senior pastor, together we will find a way.” After his tryout in front of the now much declined membership, Pastor Evan Foote was accepted in by unanimous vote.








6
The church owns the parsonage, a smallish three bedroom house next to the church. Pastor Evan and his wife Janice and two young boys made it a warm and comfortable home. Allen was two and little Bryan was just over four months when they moved in.
Evan had been a youth pastor at a much larger church and was not only a gifted minister of the gospel, but knew the value of music in the worship service. He was an accomplished musician on the piano, guitar and bass. He brought with him a renewal in the energy to worship. The church became energetic once again. The old worship team, really just one guitar/bass player and two or three singers and an occasional piano player who knew the hymns but not the more contemporary music, took on an enthusiasm they hadn’t had for years. It was clear to see that the church was in another rebuilding cycle.
Pastor Evan’s sermons were usually delivered in a clear concise way that gave his flock a better understanding of the bible. He related biblical situations to those experienced by his members today, allowing them to see what it was that Jesus was trying to tell those in His day. His lessons on forgiveness gave me a clearer insight on what it was that I was supposed to do. While I never openly expressed my blame for Chris’ death on President Bush, I did keep that blame deep within myself, and it was eating at me. Clearer understanding of Jesus’ teaching freed me from placing blame where it did not rightfully belong. I truly feel that the president was following what he saw as the best course to serve this nation’s best interest, and that my Chris just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He could just as easily been killed by a drunk driver here at home. I know now that while God doesn’t place us in harms way deliberately, He also doesn’t stop us from making our own decisions that do place us there. The decision to go to Iraq was not God’s or President Bush’s, but Chris’. Accepting this made me understand that all things are part of God’s plan, even those things he doesn’t do directly.
How good it was to be back in my small but growing church, among those who I find are more family than just fellow church goers. Mom and Dad have been attending this church since it was built, back in the late 1940’s, with Grandma and Grandpa, and they told me that they have seen it grow and shrink several times. Each time after a loss of members, it has somehow always come back to its old strength. Mom told me that when the mills started shutting down is when things really started looking bad; not just for our church, but all of the churches in town. Our little town has about fifteen churches, all of which have small congregations. When I say small, what I mean is that the numbers in most of the churches are fewer than one hundred on any given Sunday, with the possible exception of the one catholic church and possibly the First Baptist Church. All of the others barely get by. It was a pleasure to be part of a growing church.

Each Sunday I would get the children up and fed and have them dress for church. We always tried to make it there in time for Sunday School classes which begin at about 9:30 or so. We have an adult Sunday School as well as children’s sessions divided by age groups. Carla still attends the older kids group, and she even helps the teacher at times. Jay and Chrissy are in a younger group, which they view as more entertainment than learning, but I know they are absorbing some of the lessons message. Occasionally one of them will ask me about something they learned in one of their lessons. I usually know how to answer, but sometimes kids can ask a question that makes you question your own knowledge. I have found myself referring to the bible on more than one occasion. Funny thing is, that when this does happen, I find that it is the kids teaching me instead of the other way around.
There is also a children’s church session that is held in a modular building that doubles as a fellowship hall. It is just behind the church, so right after worship service and tithe offering, the children are dismissed to attend their own little service, conducted by one of the couples with children of their own. It’s a real joy to watch my kids grow in the Lord.
We have been back in Lakeview for just about a year, and I am impressed with the growth in our church that I have seen in that time. 2008 has been a rough year for lots of folks around the country, but the big economic downturn that is being felt in most of the big cities is not effecting our little community as much. As I mentioned earlier, Lakeview is, for the most part, a retirement community. Most of the jobs that kept the younger people here have left, and family farming has lost its appeal to the younger family members. Most of the younger members of the community leave after graduation from high school, either to attend college or to find a job in the bigger markets. That in turn causes a dwindling population, made up mostly of older people who don’t spend large amounts of money. With the older demographic, new and bigger retail outlets shun areas such as ours in favor of markets where the younger, higher spending crowds are. It is a vicious cycle that eats at the sustenance of a community. Many of us always thought that if a big retailer came into the area that it could show a profit, since most of us in our area have to drive nearly one hundred miles now to their closest locations. We have always felt that there were sufficient numbers in the surrounding area to justify a large retailer to gamble on building here. Once one company made the move, we all thought the area would grow and prosper again.
2008 saw gasoline prices rise to over $4.00 per gallon, and resultant rises in all other commodities. Grocery prices jumped along with utility costs, and I was finding it hard to meet the payments of our utility bills and rent payment. That, coupled with the decline of people eating out, I found myself with fewer hours at Jerry’s, where I made the biggest amount of my income, mostly through tips, which were also declining due to the increase in energy costs. While I still offered the same smiling service that I always have, it is understandable that our customers were feeling the same pinch at the pumps as we all were, and couldn’t tip as high as they previously had. The price of a breakfast had also gone up with the increase in food costs, causing our remaining customers to be more frugal with their tipping.
I was still working about twenty hours at Safeway, but with the loss of income at Jerry’s I wasn’t making enough to get by on. I needed to find a way to increase my take home. I had considered asking Mom and Dad if we could move in with them, but I didn’t want to impose on them. They had a nice home, but it wasn’t really large enough for all six of us, and adding three kids to their already structured life would be too much, I thought, for them to cope with. I love my folks, and I know they love me and the kids, but I have to take some responsibility for myself and them.









7
Pastor Foote’s lesson this week was on Paul’s letter the church in Corinth, specifically the first epistle, chapter fourteen. He told how Paul was admonishing the church for their over use of the gift of tongues. I mentioned earlier that our church is what is referred to as a Pentecostal evangelical church. Pentecostals have gotten the reputation over the years of being a group largely composed of those rolling in the aisles and speaking in some sort of gibberish that cannot be understood by anybody. That has not been my experience in the churches I have attended. Sure, every now and then there have been one or two members who try to deliver a message in “tongues”, but it rarely happens, at least in our church.
Anyway, Pastor told how Paul was scolding the church for speaking in tongues and not putting enough emphasis on the gifts he deemed of more value, such as prophecy or healing. He quoted Paul in chapter 13 telling the Corinthians “Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and I have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.” He went on to explain that what Paul was saying was that the unknown tongues spoken at the time were the tongues of angels, not men, and that as Paul said in chapter fourteen, “I thank my God, I speak with tongues more than ye all: Yet in church I had rather speak five words with my understanding, that by my voice I might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an unknown tongue.” Pastor emphasized that unless we were speaking to the angels, and in turn were receiving a message from them that we could interpret, that it is better, as Paul stated, to speak only in a language that all could understand.
I never spoke in tongues, but I have been told by some older members of the church, both here and in Portland, that speaking in tongues was evidence of being filled with the holy spirit. I never believed that for a minute. I know my Chris was as filled with the holy spirit as anyone, and he never spoke in tongues either. He just lived his life as a testimony to God. He never judged others, or at least I never heard him, and he was always quick to help someone in need, and he did love God. I am sure he is with Him now.
I mention this because it has a bearing on my story, but I’ll get into that later.

What I am going to relate to you now, you may find hard to believe, but I swear it is true.
When I started telling this story, I mentioned that things had taken a turn for the worse. I may have been exaggerating, as I don’t know how things could be worse than what I had already been through with losing Chris. I had adjusted to the new lifestyle, working two part time jobs and trying to raise three children. I thank God that my parents are still in good health and able to offer assistance. I don’t think I could have survived without them. I probably would have found a way, but it would have been tough.
Anyway, as I already mentioned, my hours and pay as a waitress had been cut considerably and I had been asking for more hours at Safeway with no success. Most of the employees were part time and most of them wanted more hours. The company had taken a position of hiring more part time employees because then it wasn’t required to pay benefits, such as insurance, which I also needed but couldn’t afford. I thank God that the children have been healthy up to now, but I knew there might come a time when one of them might need medical care that I couldn’t afford, and I dreaded the thought. I worked harder than ever in order to impress the manager that I could be a real asset if I got more hours, but company policy was to keep full time employees down to a minimum. I didn’t like the policy, but I understood the reason for it.

One afternoon when I came home after work, Mom told me that the school had called and that she had to go get Jay. It seems he had thrown up and the school nurse took his temperature and found he was running a fever. Rather than keep him in school where he might infect other students, if he did have something that could be transmitted, Mom was asked to come pick him up. Did I mention that I didn’t have any health insurance? Chris and the kids and I were covered by his employment at NBC, but since his death, his policy did not extend to just me and the kids. I was hoping to find work with an employer that provided insurance, even if I had to pay part of the cost, but I couldn’t afford the premiums on an individual policy. Now I find myself in need of insurance and with none. I knew the hospital emergency room couldn’t refuse to care for Jay, so Mom and I rushed him there. By now, Jay had fallen asleep and was dizzy when we awakened him, so I had to carry him to the car. When we arrived, a nurse met us with a wheelchair, standard hospital procedure, but I carried Jay into the entrance of the emergency room lobby. The nurse led me to one of the two emergency rooms in the small hospital and we laid Jay on the examining table.
When the doctor finally came into the room, Jay was asleep again, but he was still very hot and clammy. The doctor gave him a pretty thorough exam and told me that he would like to keep him overnight for observation. I explained that I didn’t have any hospitalization insurance but I would try to find a way to pay whatever the cost. “Just make my baby better. Please!” I guess I was crying a little by now.
The doctor told me not to worry, that he would see to it that Jay was admitted and that they would find out what was causing the problem. “Let’s take care of first things first. This young man needs some attention, and I’m going to make sure he gets it. We’ll worry about the bill later.”
Dr. Markham; I later found out his name; took a sample of Jay’s blood and swabbed the inside of his mouth, and sent the swab and blood sample to the lab for tests. All we could do at that point was wait for the results, which would take several hours. Lakeview’s is a small hospital and without the high tech lab equipment found in bigger hospitals, such as in Portland, or for that matter Klamath Falls. Results are not as forthcoming as in those locations. When he did get the results, Dr. Markham gave me some rather disturbing news. “Jay has viral meningitis”. I really didn’t know what viral meningitis was or what it would do to Jay, but it sounded pretty awful.
“What do we do? Is he going to be alright?” I didn’t know what to think.
“He’s probably going to be fine. We want to keep him here for a few days. The body usually wards off this type of infection within ten days, but I want to put him on some antibiotics for a couple of days, just to be safe. Jay is a healthy strong young man, I’m sure he will be fine.”
“I don’t know how I am going to pay for his stay in the hospital. I know these things cost a fortune and I don’t have it. Doctor I can’t thank you enough for what you are doing, but I can’t afford to keep him in the hospital for a few days?”
“You let me worry about that. I’ll make some kind of arrangements with the accounting department. You just concern yourself with getting Jay better.”
That was consoling, but I knew that there would come a day of reckoning, and I didn’t know how I was going to pay this bill. Ironically, when Chris was alive, and we had all the insurance we needed, we never once had an occasion to use it. Now, when I need it the most, it isn’t available to me.
I stayed with Jay in the hospital until late in the evening. He kept coming in and out of his sleepy state, and his fever persisted. Dr. Markham assured me that “the fever was doing its job of fighting the infection, but we should see it come down with the IV antibiotics.” I only hope he’s right.










8
I went home to change clothes and stopped at Mom and Dad’s to check on the other kids. Mom had fed them and was letting them watch a little television before putting them to bed. She made up the bed in my old bedroom for the girls. “Honey, you look worn out. Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something too?”
“I’m fine mom. Just a little tired. Dr. Markham says they are going to have to keep Jay for at least a few days. Mom, I don’t know how I’m going to pay for that.”
“Well don’t you worry about that. Jay is the main concern, not the bill. God will always show the way.”
“God? What has God done for me but take my husband away and now he’s going to make me lose Jay.” I began to cry uncontrollably.
“Now see here young lady, this is not God’s doing, and neither was that other. You told me you had made your peace with God over that, didn’t you? Well He’s going to see to it that Jay comes out of this just fine.”
“I’m sorry Mom, I didn’t mean to go off like that. It’s just that it seem so unfair. What have I done that God is punishing me like this, and why doesn’t he just punish me and leave those I love alone?”
“You haven’t done anything, and God is not punishing you or Jay. Sometimes things like this just happen. He is going to be fine. God looks after little children.”
“I guess I know that Mom. I’m just so tired and I need someone or something to blame for the way I feel. I know we’ll find a way. Do you mind if I spend the night here with you. I need some of your motherly love.”
“Honey, you’re always welcome to come stay with us anytime you want. Dad and I were thinking of asking you and the kids to move in here until you got on your feet a little better.”
“Are you kidding? You and Dad hardly have enough space for the two of you. How would we make a thing like us moving in work?”
“Your old room is still your room, and we could easily take my old sewing stuff out of the other bedroom and make it a bedroom for the girls. I don’t see well enough to sew much anymore anyway. We can always find room for Jay on the sofa until we make other arrangements.”
“I don’t think so Mom. It would be too cramped and in no time we would be at each others throats. I appreciate it, but I love you two too much to put you through that. If you don’t mind though, I will spend tonight on the sofa. I was going to go back to the hospital and sleep in a chair next to Jay, but I don’t think I would get any sleep.”
“Jay and you will both rest better if you stay here. You can go in to see him first thing in the morning. I’ll call Jerry’s and let them know you won’t be in and you can call Safeway and let them know.”
“I’m going to call Jerry’s tonight. They can get by without me anyway, things have gotten so slow. Maybe I’d better plan on going to Safeway later. I will be needing the money.”
“Whatever you think is right Honey. Let’s just see how Jay is doing before you make any work decisions.”
‘I will Mom. Thanks for looking after the girls. I don’t know what I would have done if you and Dad weren’t here for me.” I called Jerry’s to let them know that I wouldn’t be in, gave Mom a big hug and Dad a big kiss and we all turned in for the night; the girls in my old bed and me on the sofa. I fell asleep almost immediately but slept restlessly worrying about Jay.
Morning came all too soon, but yet not soon enough. I needed more sleep, but also needed to get to the hospital to check on Jay. I snuck out before anyone else was up, leaving a note for Mom to please get the girls off to school.
When I got to the hospital I was surprised to find nurses milling around Jay’s room. I asked, “Is everything alright? What’s with all the activity?”
The nurse in charge just smiled and said, “ Dr. Markham is on his way in. He will fill you in.”
I wanted to go in to see Jay, but the nurse told me he was asleep. I didn’t care, I wanted to see him anyway. I was getting a bad feeling about all that was going on. “Is Jay alright? Why doesn’t somebody talk to me?” I went into his room over the nurses objections to see Jay, still with an IV in his arm and apparently still running a fever.
“His fever should have broken by now. That’s why we called Dr. Markham. He is on his way in. I’m sure it’s nothing to get too concerned about.”
“Well I am concerned. Dr. Markham said the IV would cause the fever to break. Doesn’t any body here know what’s wrong with my son?”
“Sometimes this type of meningitis is a little unpredictable, but with treatment it is seldom long lasting. I’m sure we will be seeing some improvement soon.”
I noticed that the other bed in the room was empty and I wondered whether it was because what Jay had was contagious. I was assured that it wasn’t contagious, but that they were going to keep that bed open anyway, since the hospital had plenty of beds available at the time. Something wasn’t adding up.
I still had a laptop computer that I kept when we moved. I sold Chris’ laptop and the desktop that we had in Portland because I needed all the money I could get at the time. The hospital was set up for wireless internet, so I got my computer out of the car and did a little research on viral meningitis. The first thing I learned is that there is no antibiotic or other medicine that will cure it, and that it may in fact be contagious. This wasn’t acting like what I was reading about viral meningitis. Jay was still sleeping most of the time, and when he did wake, he complained that his throat hurt, and his fever wasn’t going away.
When Dr. Markham finally arrived I was on him like white on rice. “What’s happening? You said that IV was going to break his fever.”
“Honestly, Marla, we don’t know. According to the tests results, he should have been showing improvement by now. I am beginning to wonder if we got some wrong information. I want to run some more tests and I will need to take another blood sample. I’m going to run this one to Klamath myself to be sure we get the right results.” He had the nurse come in a draw another blood sample and he told me that he would phone in the results as soon as he got them from the lab in Klamath Falls. He excused himself and left to take the sample to the lab.
By this time, I was at a loss as to what to think. Dr. Markham had told me that the hospital staff was doing everything they could, and that it would be better for me if I went on about my routine. “If you have to be at work, go on and don’t worry about Jay, he’s in good hands.” Easy for him to say. How was I supposed to keep from worrying?
A little later, it occurred to me that I hadn’t had anything to eat since my meal break yesterday morning at Jerry’s. I knew I had to get something to eat to keep up my strength or I would be in that bed along side of Jay. I decided to go to the hospital cafeteria for something, anything to give me some nourishment. I was surprised to find such a good selection at such a small hospital. I had a small plate of scrambled eggs with toast and a cup of coffee and a small glass of orange juice. I then realized how hungry I had been. It was a satisfying meal, and I needed to return to Jay’s side.
When I entered Jay’s room there was a doctor there who I hadn’t met. He had on a white doctor’s coat and he was standing between me and Jay, with his back to me. I walked around the bed, to the other side to see Jay awake and smiling. I looked up to the doctor and asked , “What happened Dr. ……….?”
“Gabriel” he replied
“Dr. Gabriel, I guess we haven’t met before. What happened here. Jay was showing no signs of improvement and now he looks as healthy as I’ve ever seen him.”
“Jay is going to be fine. Why don’t you spend a little time with him. I’ll leave you two alone. Nice meeting you Marla.” How did he know my name?
“Nice meeting you too Doctor” I replied and turned my attention back to Jay, who was beaming. “Honey, it’s so good to see you awake and smiling. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine Mom. I don’t remember coming here. Is this a hospital?”
“Yes it is, you gave us quite a scare. The doctor didn’t know quite what was the matter with you.”
A nurse appeared at the door as I was talking to and hugging Jay. I looked up to see her, mouth open and eyes wide. She looked like she didn’t know what to say.
“Isn’t this wonderful. I guess the IV finally took effect. Dr. Gabriel said Jay was going to be fine.”
“Dr. Gabriel? Who’s Dr. Gabriel?”
“He just walked out of the room, you must have almost run into him.”
“I’ve been at the desk all morning. Except for the nurses and you, nobody has been in Jay’s room, and we don’t have a Dr. Gabriel on staff here.”
“Of course you do, I just met him. Maybe he’s new.”
“Mrs. Kettering, believe me, there is no Dr. Gabriel in this hospital, and no one has been in this room with Jay except you and the hospital staff; nurses and cafeteria workers.”
“That’s impossible. I just talked to Dr. Gabriel. Jay saw him, ask him”
Jay spoke up, “I didn’t know he was a doctor, but his name is Gabriel. He told me that was his name. He looked a little like Daddy didn’t he Mom?”
Now that Jay mentioned it, he did resemble Chris somewhat, but I guess I didn’t notice at the time. “Yes he did look a little like your Dad, didn’t he?” Why did Jay notice that, but I didn’t?
“He said he knew Dad for a long time. Didn’t you ever meet him before?”
“No I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered him. Are you sure he said he knew your dad?” I thought maybe Jay was a little delirious from his fever and thought he heard him say he knew Chris. But Jay wasn’t showing any signs of a fever now.
The nurse then told me that Dr. Markham called and asked if I was here. He wanted to be sure I was at the hospital when he arrived back from Klamath Falls. He called from the road, so the nurse said he would be in pretty soon. He told her he had something he wanted to talk to me about, and not over the phone.
It seemed like she had no sooner told me about Dr. Markham’s call that he entered the hospital with a very serious aura about him. “Marla, I need to talk to you in private.” And he led me to a small office where we could be alone.
“Marla, I’m afraid I have some bad news. Jay’s condition is worse than we first anticipated. He does have a form of meningitis, but it is a rare, and often fatal strain. That doesn’t mean we won’t be able to cure it, but you need to be prepared for the worst. I’m afraid he’s going to be here for some time, and he may be going in and out of consciousness for some time.”
“What are you talking about? Jay’s fine. I’ve never seen him look better. Maybe you should get together with Dr. Gabriel to see what he thinks.”
“Dr. Gabriel? I don’t believe I know him. Did you call him in?”
“No, he was here when I came back from getting a late breakfast. Tall, good looking man, maybe early forties or so?”
“I guess I haven’t met him. I know all of the doctors on staff, where is he from?”
“I thought he was from here, but the nurses don’t know him, and they say they have never seen him. I know he was here, and so does Jay.”
“Jay saw him? Does that mean he was awake?”
“He’s awake, and he is doing great, no fever and full of fire.”
“That’s impossible. He wasn’t reacting to the antibiotics or IV, and according to the tests we just took, he should be getting worse, not better. Let’s go see him.”
When we entered the room, Jay was laughing with the nurses. “Mom, the nurse says I can have anything I want to eat. Can I have ice cream?”
“Honey, you can have anything you want, just like the nurse said”, I looked at Dr. Markham who was standing there looking just like that nurse; wide eyed and mouth hanging open.
“I don’t understand. The tests…..I don’t understand. He should be in a coma, not that I’m complaining, I just don’t understand.” Dr. Markham felt Jay’s head, listened to his signs with a stethoscope, felt his pulse rate, and then just scratched his head. “This boy seems healthy as a horse. Nurse, get this young man that ice cream. What flavor Jay?”
“Can I have a scoop of chocolate and one of vanilla?”
Dr. Markham answered, “You certainly can, and more if you want.” He was beaming. “I just don’t understand. I came here with what I thought would be the worst news I could be bringing, and now this. I just don’t understand.”
“Yes Doctor, we get it, you don’t understand. But I don’t care what happened to change Jay’s condition, I’m just so happy.”
“I am too. I would like to meet this Dr. Gabriel. Nurse, do you know where he is?”
“Dr. Markham, I don’t even know who he is. I’ve never seen the man, and I don’t know how he got into this room without someone seeing him.”
“Well I saw him and Jay saw him and I don’t know how you could have not seen him. He walked out of this room almost as you were walking in.” I was beginning to feel like everyone else was nuts, or maybe it was me

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