Free Mother's Promise by Anna Schmidt Page B

arrived, as did David Olson’s coach and the pastor of his church. Paul spoke at length with the minister, and the two men exchanged business cards. Then Paul crossed the room to where Rachel was setting up a makeshift buffet of the snacks, sandwiches, fresh fruit, and soft drinks that Eileen had ordered sent up from the hospital cafeteria.
    â€œOkay,” he said, glancing at a young man in scrubs who had come to the room, spoken with the Olsons and Paul and their minister, and was now leaving. “The good news is it looks like the boy’s going to make it.”
    â€œBut?” Rachel said.
    â€œThey’re working on reattaching his arm and that could take eight to ten hours, assuming they can do it at all.” He glanced over to where the Olsons and the boys were seated in the center of a circle of supportive friends and family. “I think things are pretty well in hand here. Why don’t we go back to my office and have a late working lunch while we go over your new responsibilities?”
    Rachel was reluctant to leave. The truth was she wanted to be there when Ben came from surgery to tell the Olsons how things had gone. Would the surgical team be able to save the boy’s arm? Rachel recalled how the floor of the ER had been littered with bloody refuse when David was on his way to the elevator and the operating room. She had never seen so much blood in all her life. “Eight hours more?” she whispered as she looked at the clock in the hall ticking off the seconds.
    Paul nodded and thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We’ll check back,” he told her. “This is the way it goes sometimes, Rachel. I assure you that the feeling of wanting to do more when there’s no more to be done never goes away. But these folks clearly have a strong network of support. They’re in good hands.”
    He waited for her to speak with the Olsons, and then the two of them walked side by side in silence across the skywalk on their way back to the spiritual care department. Rachel could not help noticing how blue the sky was, unmarked by a single cloud. She thought about David and his three friends surfing the waves on this perfect day, never guessing that danger lurked beneath the water’s surface.
    She thought about Justin. “There are sharks,” he had argued when she’d told him about the move to Florida.
    â€œWhat’s a bull shark?” she asked, remembering that one of the nurses had mentioned that species.
    â€œIt’s a big shark,” Paul told her. “Adults average about seven feet long and can weigh close to three hundred pounds. But the real problem is that a bull shark has serrated teeth, and when it bites, it tears. That’s what complicates David Olson’s chances of coming out with a reattached arm. Hard to put that all back together.”
    Rachel took a moment to digest the bleak outlook for this boy and his family. “Why would the shark attack?”
    Paul shrugged. “It’s not done with malice. Usually the problem is that the water is churned up and sharks have poor eyesight. If they see something moving in the water that they can’t identify as friend, foe, or food they strike first and ask questions later.” He held the door to their offices open for her. “Either way that young man has got a long road ahead of him—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Good that they are people of strong faith.”
    Eileen looked up as they entered, her snow-white eyebrows raised in question.
    â€œNo news yet,” Paul said. “Rachel, call your son. I expect he’s on your mind right about now.” He walked into his office and closed the door.
    â€œHe needs a moment,” Eileen explained. “The young ones always hit him hardest.” She shook her head and fell silent for a long moment before going on in a quiet voice, “His daughter drowned in a freak swimming