"What? Oh, this one?" He glanced down into the eyes of a sorrowing Jesus, whose tear drops transformed into flames that shot down Zeke's arm. A faint blush crept up his neck. "A drunken accident." He shrugged.
"Whatever, Zeke. It doesn't make you less manly to believe in deity. There's a song I listen to on the radio, one of my country jams, that says, 'Real men love Jesus.'"
He snorted. "Tell that to the girls I go out with."
"Maybe you aren't going out with the right type of girls."
"Girls like you?" he snorted again. "Admit it. You'd never give me a second look."
How had the conversation gotten to this point? "Are you fishing for compliments or asking me out?"
"Maybe both." He grinned. The blush spread to his cheeks.
My promise to Adri to give guys a chance sped through my mind. Zeke was cute. "Then maybe I'd say yes." His grin widened. It was my turn to blush under his intense gaze. "Get back to work," I told him. He winked and chuckled as he walked away.
"Sophie, right?" Smarmy man sidled up to me after church the next week.
"Right," I replied tightly. Again I thought of Adri and I groaned inwardly. You owe me, Adri. "What was your name again?"
"Andy." I felt a little guilt at his surprised and wounded expression. Sorry. This girl isn't falling all over you like all the others. "You ready to put me out of my misery and agree to go out with me?"
"Sure am." Even I almost believed my faked excitement at the prospect.
Once the shock wore off, his face lit up like a clear Portland morning and I had to admit he was nice looking. "I knew you couldn't resist me for long." And then he had to go and say that. "Give me your digits and I"ll call you sometime." The nonchalant way he winked at me as he pulled his phone from his pocket and typed in my number as I recited it to him through clenched teeth attested to his practice in this area. He made it look cool, as if he had bestowed a great gift on me. Adri so owed me.
"I can't wait," I muttered to his retreating form.
James
"I keep running into you here,” I said to Mrs. Mitchell near the hospital’s Starbucks. After our last volatile, um, conversation, I was hesitant to approach her. I could be professional about this. I gestured to the vacant seat next to her and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
She wiped her perfect mouth and quickly swallowed before looking around. I wondered if it was for an escape route. “Uh, sure,” she motioned to the seat and took another bite of the delicious swirly bread-like thing on a napkin in her lap.
When the silence became awkward, I cleared my throat. “What are you eating?” I asked, knowing I should apologize for my previously unprofessional behavior. Instead, I settled for avoidance, and latched on to the first thought that entered my mind.
“The cinnamon swirl coffee cake. It’s delightful.” The last word came out as more of a moan and she closed her eyes. I quickly averted my gaze when she opened them again so I wasn’t caught staring. This running into her wasn’t a good idea. "Here," she said with a grudging sigh. "Try some." She broke off a piece and held it out to me.
Her forgiveness was a pleasant, if unexpected, surprise. One I wasn't sure I deserved." Thanks, but if it's as good as you say, I may be tempted to take what's left of yours."
She quickly pulled the offered piece back out of reach and turned her body away from me, hugging the cake possessively to her. "On second thought, go get your own." I couldn't help the grin that spread over my face at the teasing look she threw me over her shoulder. Time to go.
"I think I may just do that. Thanks for the suggestion. I'm glad I bumped into you today." As far as apologies went, that one stunk, but this was the perfect time to make my exit. Leave on a positive note. I stood as she turned back toward me. Something resembling disappointment flashed quickly through her eyes. Or maybe it was relief. She probably thought I was bipolar.
"Sure," came her confused reply. "Thanks, uh, for stopping to say hi. Have a good day."
I lifted my hand in a small wave and turned toward Starbucks. I'd better steer clear of Mrs. Mitchell because it was getting tough to tell which was more tempting, the cinnamon swirl coffee cake or her.
"Sorry, dude." Andy palmed the ball and headed for his gym bag on the sideline. "I gotta go."
"You're cutting out on our game?" I asked in disbelief. "What's up?"
"I've got a date, man. Can't keep the beautiful lady waiting."
"Who is it this time?"
"Sophie."
"She finally agreed to a date, huh? You must really like this girl to keep badgering her until you got an affirmative response."
"Yeah. She promises to be a pretty good time."
"Wow. Your enthusiasm astounds me."
"I just don't want her to be heartbroken when this doesn't last as long as she wants. I think she's pretty into me, but she is only in Oregon a few months to help family, and I don't do the long distance thing, so I kind of have to keep her at arm’s length. Save her from herself and all that."
I snorted. "That's big of you. Who knew you were so selfless." I took a long drink from my water bottle.
"Yeah, well, somebody's gotta do it. Might as well be me. If it wasn't her I was saving, it would be some other beautiful female."
"They are just falling at your feet." I rolled my eyes. "See you later."
Sophie
"What's the name of the place we are going again?" I asked Andy as we pulled away from Trevor's house.
"You mentioned you'd like to see more of the city, so I thought I'd offer the best tour guide services around. Me. And the first destination on our list is the Portland Japanese Gardens. I've been there one other time. It's not the most interesting place on the planet, but I do what I can do for you touristy types."
I mentally rolled my eyes. How very kind of him to suffer through this experience on my behalf. "Hope we make it out alive," I said.
"You will just owe me one," he flashed me a grin that was calculated to weaken knees. It only succeeded in strengthening my resolve to get out a little more and meet other people.
"What do you like to do in your down time if it's not touring oriental gardens?" I asked him.
"I don't need to tell you about the gym because as you can see I spend quality time there." He tightened his grip on the steering wheel so that I could better appreciate the flexing of his toned forearms and biceps, I wanted to laugh, but didn't think that was the response he was going for.
"Do you do any running?"
"Only up and down a basketball court. Otherwise, running is pointless. But I take it from your question that you are a runner."
"I admit that I love it," I responded wistfully. "I haven't done very much of it since I've been here because I don't know the area well yet and I haven't had a lot of spare time."
"Well, there are miles of trails here. You shouldn't have a problem finding something you like. Or you could come to the gym with me. I'd take care of you." He winked at me.
"Oh, look. Is this the place?" I asked, equal parts hope and relief.
"Yup. Here we are."
The Portland Japanese Gardens was made up of five gardens which encouraged a sense of harmony, tranquility, and peace. The pink buds on the trees and the orange, black, and white koi fish swimming lazily in a pond were breathtaking surrounded by stone, water, and other green vegetation. The quaint bridges and rock steps and paths begged me to wander slowly in a carefree fashion with a smile on my lips and a song in my heart about God's creations and the promise of rebirth in springtime. Varying shades of green sprouting from spongy earth made me feel as if I was visiting a fairy land where magical things could happen.
I would definitely have to come back when I could take the time to really feel the gardens, soak them in. As it was, Andy appeared to be in a hurry, moving from garden to garden with little or no comment about the colors or beauty. I wanted to flit like a butterfly from flower to flower, drinking in the goodness, while he was more of a rampaging bull
trampling serene thought and feeling. I wasn't entirely sure the Gardens were to be experienced in twenty minutes or less.
"Where is your favorite place to go..." my question died on my lips as we came to the sand and stone garden. I reached for Andy's arm as a soft "oh" escaped my lips. Moss covered rocks surrounded by waves of light grey sand reached for the blue sky; monuments of living gratitude for the sunlight. I could almost hear the cymbal-like crash of waves against rocky cliffs where tiny ferns and other plant life clung in symbiotic mist. The distant cry of gulls floated on the wind as cool, salty spray kissed my skin in teasing persuasion to join the ocean and discover its hidden secrets. Now I understood the Shinto, Buddhist and Tao philosophies of something more in water, stone, and plant than just the objects themselves. The sand and grey green stones presented to me gifts of peace and tranquility I had rarely experienced outside of church or at the ocean itself. My desire to remain in that spot and soak in the sense of calm was strong. On the tail of that was an even stronger desire to share this with someone who would love it as I did. Someone who would appreciate the sacred whisperings of the ocean to my soul. Someone…
"I've never understood how sand and rocks could be anything but boring. This is supposed to be a garden for contemplation, but the only thing I can contemplate here is no color. No life. No imagination." Andy interrupted my solitude.
I strangled the groan of disappointment that threatened to erupt from my throat. The images shattered in an instant robbing me of this perfect moment and taking my soft and private musings with them. "No imagination," I muttered. "You've got that right."
Misinterpreting my meaning, Andy asked,"Are you ready to get out of here? I'm starving. Let's go contemplate some food."
There were a few other things I was ready to contemplate in relation to Andy and food wasn't one of them. But maybe I was being too hard on him. He'd warned me beforehand that this wasn't his favorite spot. He would probably be a different person in a different setting. I could see all kinds of flaws in that line of thinking, but I couldn't kick one of the only friends I made here to this point to the curb just yet.
"I am hungry." I smiled at Andy. "Where's the best spot for grub in this city?"
Chapter 8
James
“Yeah. I'll meet you there. Wait. That’s my pager. I’ve got to go,” I told Andy. I pushed end on my phone, pushed the remote button to relock my car, and turned back toward the hospital. Looked like basketball was out tonight. I took the stairs two at a time and entered the NICU in a hurry. The flurry of activity told me that something was wrong. The loud monitors were beeping double time, adding to the confusion.
“What’s going on, Ms. Gina,” I asked loudly.
“Oh, thank the Lord you were still at the hospital, Doctor. His breathing is labored and his temperature is up. It sounds like there is fluid in his lungs,” Ms. Gina responded with urgency.
“Okay little guy, what’s going on?” I asked as I opened the incubator. “Ms. Gina, turn off that machine so I can think, please.” Ms. Gina moved quickly to follow his instructions. Suddenly, the noise was gone and the confusion with it. Blessed quiet filled the room. "Pull up his chart." I warmed my stethoscope while Ms. Gina brought his chart up on the computer. "It doesn't sound good," I said to no one in particular. "Call over and tell them to get the TTE ready. I've got to get in there and see what's going on.”
"What's wrong with him?" The sound of her voice jolted me. I hadn't even noticed Mrs. Mitchell standing to the side of the incubator, wringing her hands.
"We need to get an ultrasound to see if it tells us anything," I told her. "I'll let you know what we find. Sit tight for a few minutes."
"I'll call Trevor," Mrs. Mitchell said and left the room to make her phone call.
Mr. Mitchell must have broken land speed records to get here. I watched as he pulled Mrs. Mitchell in for a hug. I approached them and stuck my hand out. "Mr. Mitchell." He pulled away from the hug and turned to shake my hand.
"Dr. Anderson. What did you find out?" he asked nervously.
"It looks like we are going to need to take him in for surgery," I told them as I brought up the results of the ultrasound on the computer. "There appears to be a second larger hole in the lower chamber.” I quickly sketched a rough picture of a heart on a piece of paper and made an ‘X’ on the lower chamber. “His lungs are pretty congested and he's headed for heart failure. I need to repair the holes in the wall between the two lower chambers here and here." I made two more ‘X’s’ on the picture. "The surgery is pretty routine and he should be able to go home in less than a week." I watched Mrs. Mitchell fold her arms and bow her head while Mr. Mitchell said something about making a phone call. He left the room and I moved away from Mrs. Mitchell to go prep for the surgery.
A few hours later, I exited the OR and made my way to the waiting room where Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell sat next to each other, speaking softly. They stood as I entered and crossed the room to them with a smile on my face. "The surgery went without a hitch. We repaired both of the holes. He's still asleep, but a nurse will call you back in about a half hour to be with him when he wakes up. I'm really pleased with his response to the surgery so far. Ms. Gina will check on him throughout the night. She can get a hold of me in an emergency. I'll be back in to check on him in the morning. We will talk more then."
I took Mr. Mitchell's offered hand and looked to see Mrs. Mitchell with tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, and turned to Mr. Mitchell. “He’s going to be okay.”
I was shocked at the intense desire I had to pull her to me. I hadn’t wanted any woman near me since Nicole. It had been years. Now I couldn’t seem to do anything without thinking of Mrs. Mitchell. I was going to hell for sure. I shook my head to clear my thoughts and left the couple to get a few hours sleep before heading back for my rounds tomorrow.
Sophie
“There are two waterfalls about twenty-five to thirty miles from here along the Historic Highway within about three miles of each other,” Andy informed me.
“I think I saw one from the freeway on my way here,” I remembered.
“Probably Multnomah Falls,” he confirmed.
“I’d love to see them up close,” I told him, excitement already filling me.
“Well, let’s go.”
That’s how I found myself in Andy’s car- giving him another chance- and heading east out of Portland. “I can’t believe how green everything is here,” I commented as we entered I-84.
“What’s it look like in Texas?” Andy asked.
“Relatively flat, dry, hot. Everything is so lush here. Look at the moss.” I pointed out the window at the deep green trees with moss growing on their trunks.
The Historic Highway brought us in even closer proximity to the lushness that was Oregon. Ferns spread across the forest floor like lacey green umbrellas. Water droplets glistened off their fronds in the sporadic sunshine. I was even more amazed when we parked in a spot across from Horsetail Falls and felt the spongy ground beneath my feet. Mist from the falls carried across the road to us, drawing us to it by lighting on our faces like near-invisible, cool kisses, causing me to suck in my breath and shiver. It beckoned us to come and be wrapped in its beauty. I untied my hoodie from around my waist and pulled it over my head.
We stood near the waist high rock wall, watching. Because of the tree cover, the area seemed softer, muted, creating a peaceful feeling of being in an atrium bubble. I couldn’t contain my awe. I noticed a set of about eight stairs to our left and moved in that direction. Taking care not to slip on the wet stone surface, I made my way down the stairs to the sandy section at the base of the falls. The wind and mist were stronger there and I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off the chill. Rainbows piggybacked on the mist as snatches of sunlight bounced through the trees, playing tag in the cool, moist air.
“I can’t believe some places on Earth can be so lucky,” I said wistfully, motioning Andy closer and raising my phone for a
selfie of us.
“What do you mean?” Andy asked, wrapping an arm around my waist and resting his cheek against mine.
“Doesn’t it seem like some places get all the beauty while others have to work for any small piece of it?”
Andy shrugged. “I guess I’ve never really noticed.”
“What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in nature?” I asked, snapping another pic of the waterfall.
“Does the perfect arch on a three point shot- nothing but net- count?”
“Um...that’s not exactly what I was thinking when I said nature, but I can see how a bunch of sweaty men chasing after a ball could be like a pack of wolves chasing a deer...or something. Cavemen, maybe? They lived in nature.”
“Try this one then. The perfect set of reps increasing muscle mass and definition.” He flexed a bicep and grinned at me.
I couldn’t tell if the grin was pride in his muscle definition or because he was teasing about that being the most beautiful thing he’d seen in nature. Maybe he needed to get out more. Or maybe I needed to learn to broaden my scope of things to appreciate. Either way, we were not on the same page when it came to what constitutes beauty in nature.
I snapped a few more pics and we crossed the road and loaded back into the car, pointing the car back the way we had come, to stop at Multnomah Falls. My eyes drank in the rock walls and greenery that lined the Highway, creating a quaint, olden day feel about the area; like a walk through the hills would reveal a venerable, forgotten cemetery lying beneath the dripping ferns, protected from mans’ prying eyes and crushing, irreverent feet.
Although the frequent silence between Andy and me wasn’t uncomfortable, we couldn’t find much to say to each other. He appeared to be more of a grudging tour guide rather than a willing, enthralled participant. And while I didn’t expect him to be as thrilled with the sights as I- he’d probably seen these falls a hundred times- I had a hard time truly enjoying the wonders around me when I felt like we needed to hurry the tour along.
Matters of the Heart Page 6
