Butterfly Trees by Gail Gaymer Martin

Author:Gail Gaymer Martin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2013-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

Eight

Ross took a sip of the strong coffee and closed his eyes. Surgery. He hadn’t expected it. Since his mother’s fall, he’d prayed fervently; the Lord had His reasons, though, and Ross couldn’t fight the Lord. Christians often asked, Why me? Why did this happen to so and so? They were such good people. Why a child? Why this? Why that? Questions fell like raindrops, but the answers were a drought. God knew the full scheme of things. All things had a purpose, and Ross would know the answer only when it didn’t matter anymore because he’d be with God.

A stream of air whispered from his lips. After Dr. Louden from the ER had let him know it was a hip fracture, he’d allowed him to visit his mother for a moment. The look on his mother’s face hung in his mind.

“How do you feel, Mom?” he’d asked.

“Not like jogging.”

Her witty response had taken him by surprise. “I don’t suppose. You need to have surgery. You know that.”

Her eyes searched his. “I know. What I did was so careless. . . and dumb.”

“You were excited, Mom. Those monarchs with their wings open looked like flowers.”

“They did, and I didn’t get a photograph.”

He wanted to tell her she’d get there another day, but he stopped himself. She’d know he was only trying to cover his fear. “Maybe I can get one for you.”

“Would you?”

Her voice sounded so plaintive that his voice caught in his throat. “I’d do anything for you.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Mom, I’ll see you when you’re out of surgery, and I’m praying.”

Her eyes fluttered, and he realized she’d had a shot to make her drowsy. She licked her lips and tried to speak. “Pray. . . .”

“I am, Mom.” He backed out of the room and returned to the waiting room where he’d paced. He looked at a magazine. He paced some more. He opened his cell to call Alissa again but had no new information, so he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Now with the time still dragging, Ross eyed the wall clock and rose again, searching for a new magazine. His stomach growled. He and his mother had missed lunch. Lunch. With this sad event, his mom would miss much more than lunch. A few chairs over, he spotted a Time magazine and grasped it then turned toward his seat and came to a dead stop. “Alissa.”

She walked toward him, her arms open in greeting, and he welcomed her embrace, holding her close and cherishing the feeling of her slender frame in his arms.

“How is she?”

“She’s still in surgery.”

“Still?”

“It’s a hip fracture, but they can’t tell the severity until they really take a look.”

“I’m so sorry about this. Your mom’s such a delight and so excited about her vacation.”

“Let’s sit.” He pointed to the chair beside his, dropped the magazine on the table, and sank into the cushion. “How did you get here?”

“Car.”

He gave her a feeble grin. “I know that. I mean, how did you arrange it? You have—”

“Fern came over.

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