Page 26 of Love on the Brain
Ryan and Jane laughed. For a five-year-old, he sure had moments when he sounded older than he was.
“I have to text my family.” Jane picked up her phone and tapped away.
He set Noah down and picked up his phone to read the text from his mother.Just checking in on you three. Call when you can.
Instead of texting her back, Ryan tapped the screen to video-call her. He wanted to give her the good news in person, but the weather wouldn’t allow for it.
“Hey, Mama.”
“It’s about time you called me back,” his mother scolded. “Do you know how worried we all are?”
Ryan smiled. “We all?”
“Dale and Connie are here. We’re doing a pre-storm cook-all-the-stuff-that-might-go-bad-if-we-lose-power potluck.” She reversed the camera to pan the others. Ryan turned his body so he, Jane, and Noah could see who was on the other side.
“Hi, Mimi! Hi, Poppy!” Noah waved. “Hi, Pastor E and Mrs. E!” They all waved back and said hello.
Ryan moved to the table, propped the phone, and squatted down between Jane and Noah. “We’ve got some good news to share.” He tipped his chin to Noah. “Do you want to tell them?”
Noah shook his head shyly. “Mommy can say it.”
Jane tugged on her ponytail and smiled. “It’s not cancer.” Her voice wavered. “Not cancer.”
“Oh, thank you, Jesus!” Ryan’s mother passed the phone to Connie, who was already crying.
Connie took the phone. The screen shook a little. “One big prayer answered. I’m so glad. Noah, baby, I wish I was there to hug you right now.”
Noah shrugged. “You can hug me later. Uncle Ryan will give me all the hugs I need. Right, Uncle Ryan?”
“Unlimited,” Ryan confirmed, touched that Noah knew he could count on him.
“So what’s next?” Dale asked, taking the phone from Connie. “Remove the whole thing? When?”
Ryan nodded. “Yes, but it may not be for weeks. The tumor is extensive, and I need to assemble a team of surgeons of various disciplines: vascular, pediatric oncology, and ophthalmic. And I want the best available so we can get this in one shot. It’ll take time to coordinate. In the meantime, Noah will stay on the steroids and take it easy. And we pray.”
“Already on it.” Ryan’s father leaned into view. “Noah, you know how big our church is, right?” Noah nodded. “We’ve gotthousandsof people praying for you here and at all the other churches I have friends at. We’ve got you covered, little man. And Ryan and his team and your mom, too.”
“Whoa.” Noah’s eyes widened. “A thousand isa lot.”
“You betcha it is, kiddo. Now, what’s this I hear from your grandpa that you prefer Indy racing to NASCAR? Is that right?”
Noah shrugged. “JC says Indy cars are a bigger rush.”
“JC says that, huh? Doesn’t he fly planes? What does he know about cars?”
“He dresses up as a guy named Elvis at the car shows and tells people they are honka honka.” Noah giggled.
Ryan looked over at Jane, and they shared a grin as Noah discussed the merits of stock-car racing versus IndyCar racing. She blushed and rose from the table. His gaze followed her to the stove, where she preheated the oven and then opened the refrigerator. She pulled out a covered casserole dish and slid it into the oven.
“Thirtyish minutes until dinner is ready,” she said. “I thought I’d put it in now in case the power goes out.”
“What is it?” Noah asked, looking up from the video call.
“American chop suey,” Jane said, latching her gaze to Ryan’s. Her lips twitched, and Ryan resisted laughing.
“She means Texas casserole,” Ryan deadpanned.
Noah looked at Ryan, then back at his mother, then back to Ryan. “Who made it?” he asked.
