Just putting this out there...the book that I am drawing this story from is called "The Christmas Blessing" by Donna VanLiere, and it's a lovely book in a series. It would make a great read for anyone who enjoys this story. This chapter is a more Meredith explanation chapter. Enjoy...

Chapter 3

Meredith bolted upright in bed when the phone rang. She quickly staggered through the dark hallway into the living room, where she picked up the telephone. It was Olivia from the hospital. Meredith's mother, Susan, crept up behind her and was able to make out bits and pieces of the conversation.

"What time?" she heard Meredith ask, "How is she?" Susan observed Meredith carefully throughout the conversation.

"Don't worry about it, we were up anyways." Said Meredith, hanging up the phone, as she turned to look at her mother.

"A heart is available for Hope." Said Meredith, smiling. Hope Daniels was a five-year-old who had been waiting for a heart transplant for seven months. She had been diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy, which meant that her heart was enlarging and loosing it's ability to squeeze. A car-accident in the early morning had claimed the life of a five-year-old boy. Meredith was silent as she put on her running shorts and shoes, and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

"I won't be gone long." She said as she closed the door behind her. The air was cool and crisp, and the sun just beginning to break though the orange and red leaves of the trees. Autumn was her favorite time of year to run. She went to a nearby park and began to stretch, looking for the runner with the neon baseball cap. When she saw her, Meredith took off, racing behind her.

Meredith pushed herself to keep up with the runner in the neon cap for lap after lap around the lake.

"She's like a gazelle," Meredith told her father one day, "I clunk around like a goat compared to her."

"It's because she's taller." He said, offering her a smile.

"No, Dad, it's not. It's more than that. There's a beauty when she runs." Thatcher Grey held his daughter's face in his hands.

"There's a beauty when you run, Meredith, and everybody around you can see it." Meredith immediately dismissed what her father said. Of course he had to say that, that's what fathers do. He put his arm around her and pulled her down next to him on the sofa.

"Why do you wait around for her everyday?"

"Because she's the best runner I've ever seen and if I am going to run, I have to run after somebody better than me."

The fall air was stinging Meredith's lungs, but she pushed harder to keep up with the runner in the neon cap. As soon as the runner finally slowed down and walked over the crest of the hill to her car, Meredith stopped; her breathing labored, and stretched her arms high over her head.

"One of these days I'll catch you," she said toward the empty hill, "And then I'm going to pass you!" She sat down on the wet grass next to the lake, pulling her knees up to her chin.

"Help Hope through the operation. Please let this new heart work." She whispered, looking out over the lake. She rested there for several minutes, tossing pebbles and acorns into the lake, watching the small ripples that swelled over the water's surface. Finally, she got up, brushed herself off, and ran home to help her mother get Lexie and Molly ready for school. While most of the students lived in the dorms or apartments nearby the school, Meredith wanted to live at home for her first year of college.

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At first I though it was too cold for a run. I hadn't been a diehard runner since my college days. However, today I decided it was okay, so I drove down to the park. I stood by my truck, stretching my legs. In the distance, I could see two other runners on the path around the lake: a young woman wearing tight, black spandex and a neon ball cap who blazed around the lake, and another woman wearing a knit cap. I watched Neon Lady as she ran the perimeter of the lake; she was too serious and focused—no doubt a gunner. But she was a great runner, all fluid motion when she breezed along the path. It was then that I noticed the young woman running behind her, pacing herself off of Neon Lady. That's what it looks like when you're doing it the way you're supposed to, I thought, watching them. They finished their run before I even started mine. I walked toward the lake to begin my run when the woman with the knit cap sat beneath the giant oak tree by the lake. It's probably routine for her, I thought, She runs her body hard and then clears her mind for the rest of the day. It was something that I would probably benefit from doing, but instead I finished my run, and then jumped back into my truck. I had to get back to my apartment so that I could make it on time to the hospital.

I arrived at the hospital thirty minutes early to speak with Dr. Bailey; she was the only one who carried enough weight to help me.

"I was wondering if I could possibly be part of another rotation?" I asked, my voice sounding weak. I hoped it sounded convincing enough to her. She seemed distracted, and I couldn't help but feel as though things were already off to a bad start. She looked at me for a moment.

"Dr. Webber is a fine physician, in fact, I would say he's the best doctor in the whole damn hospital." Said Dr. Bailey. I rubbed my temples—I couldn't take another "he's a fine physician, one of the best" speech.

"Is this because of Mary Copeland? Because if it is, there will be other patients who will die unexpectedly. The hospital's not in the habit of accommodating the wants of medical students, anyway. You should know that by now." I sensed that the bomb was about to detonate—there was no way Dr. Bailey was going to pull me from this rotation.

"It's not necessarily a want, Miranda, I need to change to another rotation." I said.

"Why?"

"Because I'm thinking of dropping out of med school, and if I stay under Dr. Webber, I know I will." There was a pause from Dr. Bailey. I hated putting her in the middle of my problem, he was responsible for medical students on the team and coddling a student's emotional dilemma wasn't part of that responsibility.

"I'll see what I can do." I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. I looked down at my watch; I had to get going. I was going to get a chance to scrub in to observe the heart transplant of a five-year-old.

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Meredith opened the front door and saw Lexie and Molly eating breakfast at the kitchen table.

"Was Neon Lady there?" asked Lexie, as Meredith stepped into the kitchen.

"She was."

"Did you beat the pants off her?" asked Molly; mashing the eggs on her plate into a fine, yellow mess. Meredith slid in next to her youngest sister at the table.

"Nah, I let her win. I feel bad for her—she's fast, athletic, attractive. How's she ever going to get ahead in this world with those kinds of attributes? If I didn't let her win every morning, she wouldn't have anything going for her."

After breakfast, Meredith helped dress Molly for school.

"I can do it myself, you know." Grumbled Molly, as Meredith pulled a fuzzy sweater over her sister's head.

"I know you can, but I like to do it." Molly sighed as Meredith tucked, pulled, straightened, and buttoned her into her clothes for the day. The truth was, Molly loved al the attention her older sister gave her, and Meredith was more than generous with the time she gave to both of her younger sisters. Outside the bedroom door, Susan listened to Meredith and Molly talk. To think that for so long, she believed she'd never have a family of her own. After years of being alone, she married Thatcher, and become a stepmother, who seemed more like a real mother, to Meredith in 1982, when she was just a year old.

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Every night when Meredith was little, Thatcher would carry her to the back deck and lift her head to the stars.

"That's the Big Dipper," he'd say, pointing, "not to be confused with the big dope…that's your daddy." He'd show her constellation after constellation, then, pointing to the brightest star he'd say, "That's what you are, Mer. You're a star, you're daddy's little star."

As he lifted her from her crib one morning, Thatcher noticed that something was wrong: Meredith was listless and nonresponsive. He was in the car with Meredith and halfway down the driveway before Susan knew what was happening. She jumped in the car beside then and rode to the hospital without taking time to put on her shoes.

The doctors put Meredith through X-rays, and she screamed; they drew blood, and she screamed louder.

"You need to get her to a heart specialist." Said the emergency room doctor. Thatcher and Susan were terrified. The baby that they loved so deeply was sick.

Dr. Richard Webber held the squirming child close to him and cooed into her ear. When Meredith looked into his eyes, a small smile broke over her face.

"There's a hole in her heart." He said, running his pinky over Meredith's cheek.

"Oh my God." Gasped Susan.

"It's an odd size…normally, if the hole is too big, we go in and repair it. When they're small, we just leave them, knowing they'll close on their own. I don't think this hole is big enough to repair." He said, cradling Meredith in one arm, and pulling her close.

"So it will close on it's own." Said Thatcher.

"It may not close all the way."

"What if it doesn't? What will that mean for Meredith?" asked Thatcher.

"You'll need to monitor her activities, make sure she doesn't do anything too strenuous." He said.

"But she can still have a normal life?" asked Susan, taking Meredith from the doctor's arms.

"With restrictions, she can. She might not be able to ride her bike as fast as the other kids, or jump in the pool twenty times in a row, or run up and down the street playing tag, but it's too early to tell. We'll have to see her back to examine her throughout the years to monitor any changes."

Thatcher and Susan took their baby home, determined to treat her as a fragile gift, but Meredith rejected and acts of delicacy from the get go. She loved to stand, balanced on her father's feet, and he would dance her around the living room, making her giggle and laugh with every spin.

"Be careful, Thatch." Susan would chide.

"She loves it!" he'd say.

"She might get too worked up." But Thatcher would pick Meredith up and spin her around until she kicked and bounced in his arms. If Meredith was sick, she didn't know it.

On her fifth birthday, Susan and Thatcher took her back to Richard Webber, who took more X-rays of her heart. For the last several years, the hole in her heart hadn't closed at all, but Dr. Webber always beamed when he saw her. Meredith was proving him wrong, and he couldn't be happier. She wasn't fragile and frail—she was a ball of fire. As he listened to her heart through the stethoscope, he smiled.

"It sounds strong."

After school, Meredith would hop on her bike or run up and down the street with the neighborhood children. Susan would watch through the window from inside, rocking from one foot to the other, and chewing on her cheek.

"Let her be." Thatcher would always say.

"What if something happens to her? What if she falls and we don't see her?" asked Susan, craning her neck to see Meredith through the window.

"She has to play, Susan. We have to let her play."

"The doctor says that we need to monitor her."

"He never said that we need to obsess over her." Susan moved from the window, pretending to busy herself around the house, but she always had an ear tuned for Meredith's voice.

In second grade, after her parents have given up hope of having more children, Meredith became an older sister when Lexie was born. Four years later, Molly was born. When Meredith was in the third grade, the Greys moved to a larger house to accommodate their growing family. Their new house was on the other side of the city, in a different school district.

Meredith was distraught over moving away from her friends and beloved teachers.

"Meredith," Susan would begin, "just think about all of the new friends you're going to make." Tears filled Meredith's eyes.

"I don't want new friends."

"But you don't know who you're going to meet there." Said Susan, stroking her daughter's hair.

"This could be the best thing that happens to you. Just wait and see." Said Thatcher. Meredith nodded, telling her parents that she understood, but Meredith cried, thinking of the friends she would be leaving behind.

Instead of riding the bus like she used to, Meredith became a "walker". Susan walked with her those first few days, pushing Lexie in the stroller.

"You can't walk her everyday. We have to let her walk with the other kids." Said Thatcher.

The next day, Susan helped Meredith with her backpack and sent her out the door for her first solo walk to school. But Meredith didn't make any friends on the walk to school that morning, and she found none at school. When the final bell of the day rang, Meredith ran down the stairs and all the way home. Meredith ran to and from school every day for the next three years. Of course, Meredith's running made Susan a nervous wreck, but Thatcher would say, "Maybe she was born to run."

"Not with a defective heart she wasn't."

"Dr. Webber said that her heart is strong, Susan. Let her run if she wants to." Susan couldn't deny that Meredith's heart was strong. It was stronger than any of them expected; their sick little baby was an athlete.