couldnât verbalize the answer to Zoeâs fatherâs question. Her mouth refused to form the words.
Because now, the detective can amend the charges to murder.
Chapter 7
Afternoon, Friday, June 15
T YLER PLACED TWO FINGERS on the inner aspect of Amy Kentâs wrist, feeling the pulse generated by her new heart. Morgan bustled around him setting medication pumps, listening to heart tones and breath sounds as another nurse documented vital signs.
It was these moments when his once strong faith stirred for revival inside of him. Amyâs blood type had matched that of the, officially now, murder victim. Was it Godâs providence or his restoration through an evil act? Was God good in all circumstances? Why did one family have to carry tragedy at the same time another family rejoiced? Zoe Martinâs heart was now beating in Amy Kentâs chest.
There wasnât any feasible way for those two families to avoid crossing paths in the PICU. It was an inherent flaw in the building design. An open unit. A large waiting room. Harried parents with nothing better to do than to share their experiences with the other families in the same holding cell.
And it was that scene that broke his heart. Not from sadness, but from a vacuous awareness that he had missed out on such a moment. The possibility that he could have used his daughterâs organs to save the life of another parentâs child.
Instead, Teagan was a mire of nothing in the cold, dark earth.
Heâd witnessed the moment this time. The curtains had been pulled away from Zoeâs bed as the organ team was getting ready to take her to the OR. Joanna Kent had waited for Zoeâs parents to emerge from the cocoon of their corner.
Sheâd raced across the unit and enveloped Julia Martin in an embrace that only two mothers in that circumstance could understand. A quiet hush settled over the unit. People bowed their heads, the only way theycould offer privacy in such an intimate, emotion-wrought stillness in time shared between two souls passing on either side of life and death.
And the words that Joanna Kent whispered to Julia Martin over and over were simply . . . Iâm sorry.
The idea of sacrifice had always been close to Tylerâs heart. It was what amazed him about Christâs death. No matter what you could say about his life on earthâthat he was crazy, that he was a liar, that he was in fact Godâdidnât matter when what the man believed led him to give up his life in the most horrendous way: voluntarily.
Just as Zoeâs parents had given up her heart, voluntarily, so another child could live.
Tyler wondered, in a soulful, universe-gazing way, if these earthly lessons were designed by a good God to give humanity glimpses of what heâd done for each of them.
And he wondered if Morgan still believed it anymore.
Death and life in the same day. One familyâs grief is another familyâs joy. The best and the worst day tied up in one messy, bright bow.
He watched Morgan as she busied herself with her coworkers to get Amy settled. Common procedure was to admit a transplant patient directly to the ICU after surgery instead of going to the post-anesthesia care unit. These children required more than one-on-one nursing care. They typically had two or more nurses in attendance for the first few hours after surgery, watching the monitors closely, assessing their patientâs body systems for the slightest signal that something was going awry.
Really, it still amazed him to watch nurses in action. There was something about them. They could be both compassionate and stern in the same moment. They could laugh and cry with a family as they moved from one bedspace to another, all the while watching for those subtle clues that their patient was taking a turn for the worse. Forget about the complexity of pediatric nursing. Caring for an infant, a toddler, a teenager, each required a different
Because now, the detective can amend the charges to murder.
Chapter 7
Afternoon, Friday, June 15
T YLER PLACED TWO FINGERS on the inner aspect of Amy Kentâs wrist, feeling the pulse generated by her new heart. Morgan bustled around him setting medication pumps, listening to heart tones and breath sounds as another nurse documented vital signs.
It was these moments when his once strong faith stirred for revival inside of him. Amyâs blood type had matched that of the, officially now, murder victim. Was it Godâs providence or his restoration through an evil act? Was God good in all circumstances? Why did one family have to carry tragedy at the same time another family rejoiced? Zoe Martinâs heart was now beating in Amy Kentâs chest.
There wasnât any feasible way for those two families to avoid crossing paths in the PICU. It was an inherent flaw in the building design. An open unit. A large waiting room. Harried parents with nothing better to do than to share their experiences with the other families in the same holding cell.
And it was that scene that broke his heart. Not from sadness, but from a vacuous awareness that he had missed out on such a moment. The possibility that he could have used his daughterâs organs to save the life of another parentâs child.
Instead, Teagan was a mire of nothing in the cold, dark earth.
Heâd witnessed the moment this time. The curtains had been pulled away from Zoeâs bed as the organ team was getting ready to take her to the OR. Joanna Kent had waited for Zoeâs parents to emerge from the cocoon of their corner.
Sheâd raced across the unit and enveloped Julia Martin in an embrace that only two mothers in that circumstance could understand. A quiet hush settled over the unit. People bowed their heads, the only way theycould offer privacy in such an intimate, emotion-wrought stillness in time shared between two souls passing on either side of life and death.
And the words that Joanna Kent whispered to Julia Martin over and over were simply . . . Iâm sorry.
The idea of sacrifice had always been close to Tylerâs heart. It was what amazed him about Christâs death. No matter what you could say about his life on earthâthat he was crazy, that he was a liar, that he was in fact Godâdidnât matter when what the man believed led him to give up his life in the most horrendous way: voluntarily.
Just as Zoeâs parents had given up her heart, voluntarily, so another child could live.
Tyler wondered, in a soulful, universe-gazing way, if these earthly lessons were designed by a good God to give humanity glimpses of what heâd done for each of them.
And he wondered if Morgan still believed it anymore.
Death and life in the same day. One familyâs grief is another familyâs joy. The best and the worst day tied up in one messy, bright bow.
He watched Morgan as she busied herself with her coworkers to get Amy settled. Common procedure was to admit a transplant patient directly to the ICU after surgery instead of going to the post-anesthesia care unit. These children required more than one-on-one nursing care. They typically had two or more nurses in attendance for the first few hours after surgery, watching the monitors closely, assessing their patientâs body systems for the slightest signal that something was going awry.
Really, it still amazed him to watch nurses in action. There was something about them. They could be both compassionate and stern in the same moment. They could laugh and cry with a family as they moved from one bedspace to another, all the while watching for those subtle clues that their patient was taking a turn for the worse. Forget about the complexity of pediatric nursing. Caring for an infant, a toddler, a teenager, each required a different
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