A Family For Jana. Eileen Berger

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.”

      He nodded, but didn’t commit himself to praying for that, as some of her friends might have. For that matter, she had no way of knowing whether he even believed in prayer.

      They were sitting across from one another at one of the small square tables when she asked, “Do you have a family?”

      He shrugged. “Parents—in Wisconsin, and a sister in Pittsburgh. I don’t see as much of them as I’d like.”

      “Oh?” I shouldn’t have said that—it’s none of my business.

      “We’re all busy with one thing or another.” He seemed to study her before adding, “While working on my degrees, I never had much time for visiting and, though we keep saying we’re going to, we’ve sort of got out of the habit of making the effort.”

      “That’s too bad.”

      “I take it you have strong family ties.”

      “No.” I shouldn’t have started this conversation. “We don’t.”

      His brows rose, making horizontal furrows above them. “If I had a grandmother like yours, I’d count myself lucky.”

      “I do count myself blessed to have Gram. She’s one of the most loving, remarkable women in the world. But she’s not….”

      “She’s not…?”

      Why can’t I learn to think before speaking? “It’s nothing.”

      Although one part of her didn’t want to say anything more, Ray sat there waiting for her to continue. She finally murmured. “She’s not a blood relative, though I wish she were. She took me in when I needed a place to stay.”

      Ray’s instincts told him not to push this, to let the matter lie, but he could not force himself to eat the food on his fork.

      Her gaze had been turned downward when she said that, but lifted, perhaps reluctantly, to meet his. There was such pain there that his hand reached over to cover hers. “It’s okay, Jana. You don’t owe me explanations.”

      Her lids flickered, then steadied as she drew in a quick, sharp breath and gave a nod. Neither said anything more for what seemed a long time, and then, after she asked him to pass the salt, he changed the subject to trains.

      Ray inquired as to whether she’d been to Steamtown National Park, and when she answered negatively he spent much of the rest of their time together sharing what that was like and talking about specific engines. It didn’t matter right then if she was even interested; it was something to say, something to fill that dangerous bog into which they’d almost fallen.

      He’d expected to go upstairs to Michael’s room with her, but as the elevator doors opened she thanked him for the gift to her son and for the meal he’d insisted on paying for even though she had stated she’d prefer doing that herself.

      Well, I’ve now blown it twice today as far as she’s concerned! That was not a happy thought as the door closed behind her and he turned to cross the lobby alone. The first time had been because of superciliousness, but perhaps his inquisitiveness might be just as bad, or worse.

      He considered following her, and even reached to push the elevator’s up button, but stopped in time. Gram was undoubtedly still there, her little boy might be awake—and what could he say or do to make things better, anyway? I guess the only thing is to hope for the best in class tomorrow. But if her friends are with her when she leaves, like today, it would only embarrass her if I apologize for making such a fool of myself this second time.

      Gram was holding Michael on her lap, reading one of the books she’d brought. He looked over and started talking even while removing his thumb from his mouth. “Gram’s reading Mr. Hoppity’s Happiest Harvest, my extra-fav’rite special book.”

      Jana ran her fingers across the top of his head, relishing the caress of the fine, golden-brown hair slipping between them. “That’s one of my favorites, too.”

      Squirming around, he pointed toward the straight chair near them. “Gram can read to you, too, Mama.”

      “I’d