Blue Like Elvis

by Diane Moody

  “You made it! I’m so glad!” he said, greeting me with an unusual burst of enthusiasm.

  “Good morning, Mr. Underwood. How are you this morning?”

  “I’m fine, but I need your help. The SU-BA-RU people called and they need some more information.” He held up what looked like a ream of paper. “Can you help me fill out these forms?”

  A thousand excuses floated through my head before I remembered my new promise to work harder at the job I was blessed to have. “Sure thing. Where do we start?”

  I spent about 45 minutes sorting through the legalese forms before I left to make copies for him downstairs. As luck would have it, Mr. Wilcox was standing outside his door.

  “Miss Colter! I was hoping to see you today. I wondered if you might check on some statements the insurance office sent up this morning. I don’t know what they mean. Could you take a look at them for me?”

  “How about I put in a call and have one of the insurance counselors come up to talk to you? They’ll be a lot more help to you than I could ever be.”

  “Well, then, I suppose . . .” His countenance fell. “But I also had something else I wanted to show you. I had DeeDee bring my railroad scrapbook from home. I thought you might like to take a look.”

  “Oh,” I said, envisioning hours on end getting a detailed tour of that scrapbook and another history of the entire railroad industry in general. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come back later. I still haven’t made all my rounds, and I’ve got several errands I need to run.” I started backing away from him when I heard my name.

  “Shelby?”

  I turned just as a new patient was wheeled around the corner.

  “Donnie? Donnie!” I couldn’t believe it. One of my best friends from college. I caught up with him and leaned over to give him a hug.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as the orderly continued pushing his wheelchair down the hall.

  “I work here. But the more important question is, what are you doing here and why are you in a wheelchair? Are you sick?”

  He made a face. “Me? Sick? Do I look sick?” He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead then his cheek.

  “Stop! I’m serious. Are you okay?”

  “Good question. I guess we’ll find out. That’s what hospitals are for, right?”

  Donnie was one of the funniest people I’d ever known. We had a long history going back to our freshman year at Samford when we both worked part-time at the infamous Taco Barn. I couldn’t think of Donnie Rogers without smiling or literally laughing out loud. We were good, good friends, and I absolutely loved the guy.

  Unfortunately he didn’t look too good. His hazel eyes looked drawn and he’d lost a lot of weight since I’d last seen him. He was wearing his straight dark hair shorter than I’d ever seen it, but it was the fatigue in his face that concerned me most.

  The orderly from Admissions backed Donnie’s chair into 919. “How about we get Mr. Rogers settled then you all can catch up.”

  “It’s a beautiful day in the hospital ward . . .” Donnie began, singing the familiar tune. He winked. “Come see me in a few?”

  “Perfect. I’ve got to run an errand downstairs, then I’ll be back up to see you.”

  “Oh goodie. You can help me with the catheter.”

  “Then again, maybe I won’t be back to see you.”

  He fluttered a silly wave with his fingers as the door closed.

  Oh, Donnie.

  Just as I stepped off the elevator on the main floor, I heard my name paged. Apparently it was going to be one of those days. After I made copies for Mr. Underwood, I called the switchboard who connected me to my caller.

  “Hey. Shelby. It’s Tucker.”

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  “Good. I was just wondering if you’ve got lunch plans. Want to meet in the Madison Restaurant?”

  Well then. “Sure. Sounds good. What time?”

  “I’ve got a consultation in a few minutes. Is 12:30 too late?”

  “No, that actually works better for me.”

  “Good. See you then.”

  I wondered why he’d suggested the restaurant instead of the cafeteria. Then again, it was a lot quieter. And nicer. And out of the way. And for reasons not fully understood, I felt a smile warm my face as I headed back upstairs.

  After getting Mr. Underwood settled with the copies he’d requested, I hurried down the hall to check back on Donnie.

  “Come in, come in,” he greeted, sitting up in bed. No hospital issue gowns were suitable for Donnie Rogers. He wore a pair of navy blue cotton pajamas piped in white with a matching white monogram over the left pocket.

  “Well, aren’t you just the dapper one?” I approached his bed. “You look great, Donnie. So what’s going on? Why are you a guest on my floor?”

  “Your floor? Sit! Sit. You first. Tell me what you’re doing here. You’re obviously not a nurse, dressed in that pricey ensemble. What are you—an administrator? Vice president?”

  I took a seat beside him, pulling the chair closer. “Hardly. I’m a hostess. In fact—” I stood back up and launched into my standard hostess spiel using my best stewardess voice.

  “Welcome to Baptist Memorial Hospital, Mr. Rogers. I’m Shelby Colter, your hostess, and it will be my privilege to serve you while you’re a guest here with us.” I handed him my card and brochure as I continued, using exaggerated hand gestures. “You’ll find lots of helpful information in our brochure, with a list of extensions should you need to place calls within the hospital, as well as the number on my card there. Feel free to call me any time you need assistance, whether you need something from the gift shop like magazines or newspapers, help from the insurance office, or simply a friendly visit. And now if you’ll fasten your seat belt and put your tray table in its upright position, we’ll prepare for take-off.”

  “And if you put on a life vest and show me how to breathe through an oxygen mask, I’m outta here,” he said, his expression deadpan.

  I took my seat again, laughing at his tone. “Okay, sorry. But you get the gist of it. I love it. It’s a great place to work.”

  “How long have you worked here? And why are you in Memphis? Why aren’t you sailing the ocean blue with your sailor boy?”

  I scratched my eyebrow. “Yeah, about Will. That’s not gonna happen. I called it off.”

  He leaned his head back. “Well, thank God!”

  “Huh?”

  “When I didn’t get an invitation to the wedding, I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

  “As if I’d forget you?” I pinched his shoulder.

  “Ouch?” he whined, rubbing where I’d tweaked him. “A little compassion, please? Hospital patient here.”

  “Okay, so out with it. Why are you here?”

  He busied himself, straightening his blanket and picking some non-existent lint off his sleeve. “Chest pains.”

  “Really?”

  He finally looked up.

  “Yes, but it’s not the first time. Seems my ticker is rather temperamental.”

  “That sounds serious, Donnie.”

  He arched his eyebrows. “That’s because it is. Anyway, I happened to be in town for a meeting and had to be rushed here by ambulance last night. I’ve been in your lovely emergency room most of the night as they tried to figure out what to do with me.”

  “Need I remind you that you’re much too young for this?” I hoped I sounded a lot more lighthearted than I felt.

  “I know. I have Donald Senior to thank for this. Coronary artery disease. If you’ll recall, Dad died when he was 35. Back when I was just a little bugger.”

  “I forgot about that. Wesley was your step-dad. Speaking of Wesley, have you called home to let your mom know what’s happened?”

  He reached out, placing his hand over mine. “No, and I don’t want them called. Mom’s health isn’t that great now either, and I don’t want to stress her. I’ll just handle this little scare on my own. She doesn’t n
eed to know.”

  I tilted my head, questioning his reasoning, but left it alone.

  The door opened as my charge nurse walked in carrying a flip chart. “Mr. Rogers? I’m Helen, and I need to ask you a few questions.”

  I stood up. “That’s my cue. Donnie, I’ll check in on you later, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks for stopping by, Shelby. Good to see you again.”

  “Helen, use the biggest needles you have on this guy,” I fake-whispered to her. “Preferably The Screamer, okay?”

  “The Screamer?” Donnie mouthed as I left the room.

  Donnie? Having heart problems? I couldn’t believe it. He’d been through a lot—raised by his mom until she remarried while he and his twin sister were still in high school. He and Wesley had never really gotten along which made his relationship with his mom stressed to say the least. I hoped I’d have time to visit with him more, catch up on old times. I said a silent prayer for him, then noticed it was almost 12:30.

  Time for lunch with my favorite anesthesiologist.

  Chapter 16

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said a few minutes later, taking a seat across from Tucker.

  “No problem. I’m off duty so as soon as we finish here, I’m heading home to crash for a few hours.

  The waitress took our order and I straightened my silverware, waiting for him to say something.

  “You look nice today, Moonpie.”

  “I should have known I’d have to re-train you after having Jimmy in town last night.”

  He quirked a look at me, confused.

  I leaned forward, whispering, “Remember? We were going to dispense with the whole nickname thing?”

  “Oh!” He laughed. “My apologies. Old habits are hard to break.”

  “Yeah, well, try harder,” I teased.

  “It was great seeing Jimmy again. He seemed to really enjoy his party last night.”

  The waitress brought our beverages. Coffee for him. Iced tea for me.

  “It was nice, wasn’t it?” I said, emptying a packet of Sweet ‘N Low into my glass. “Thanks for getting all the guys to show up. I think that was his favorite part. Seeing all the old gang again.”

  We continued the small talk until the waitress returned with our meals. I was surprised when Tucker asked if he could pray before we ate.

  “Sure,” I said, bowing my head.

  “For Your blessings, for Your mercy and Your love, we thank You, Lord. And thanks for new beginnings.”

  “Amen,” I murmured wondering what in the world that meant. It didn’t take long to find out.

  “So, I was thinking about what Jimmy said last night.”

  “What’s that?” I reached for my club sandwich.

  “About you and me being in the same boat.”

  I’d just taken a bite but stopped chewing and stared at him. Was this a joke? Was he teasing me? I slowly resumed eating and waited to see what else he might say.

  “Anyway, I thought . . . y’know, he’s got a point. You’re no longer in a relationship, and as the whole world seems to know, I’m no longer in one either. So I was thinking . . . well, I wondered if you might, uh . . .”

  Oh no.

  “. . . like to go out sometime. Y’know, just something simple. Dinner. A movie. Something like that?”

  I tried to swallow but it wasn’t easy. When I finally managed the deed, I stalled by taking a sip of my tea. Then I wiped my mouth with the linen napkin. Then I’m pretty sure I gave him a really lame smile.

  “I know, it’s kind of weird,” he jumped in.

  “You could say that,” I croaked.

  “But it doesn’t have to be weird. We’re both grown now. I’m not that irritating punk anymore—”

  “You sure about that?” I said, smiling.

  “And you’re not that irritating kid sister always begging to be pranked anymore—”

  “Begging to be pranked? Oh, please.”

  “Anyway, it just seemed like something we could do. No pressure, no expectations, just a chance to go out and have some fun. What do you say?”

  My heart thundered. There was something so wrong about this. It was awfully soon after his breakup with Cassie. As in only a few days? And I wasn’t really interested in dating right now. Still, I couldn’t help it. I wanted to say yes. The thought of dating him wasn’t completely foreign to me, even if I didn’t want to admit it. But would I ever be able to think of him as someone other than Chubby Tucker?

  I wasn’t sure. I just knew I wanted to try.

  “I’d love to, Tuck.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. That sounds fun. Just promise you’ll leave the Ex Lax at home.”

  He smiled broadly. “I promise.”

  “Well, well, what have we here?”

  We both looked up as Dr. Love approached our table. “Two of my favorite people. Isn’t this nice and cozy?”

  Tucker stood, stretching his hand to our pastor. “Dr. Love. Nice to see you.”

  “Have a seat! I insist. How are you, Miss Colter?” he asked, taking hold of my hand.

  “Fine, thank you. Would you like to join us?”

  “Oh, thank you for the offer, but I’m meeting with the family of one of our members. He’s not expected to make it much longer, and they wanted to discuss arrangements for his memorial service. So you two have a nice lunch. How’s the clam chowder, Dr. Thompson?”

  “Excellent.”

  “Shelby? I’ll see you Wednesday?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He gave me a thumbs up and a wink, then made his way to a back table.

  “Well, then.”

  “Well, then?”

  “It’s settled.”

  “What’s settled?”

  “Dinner and a movie. How does Friday night work for you?”

  “Perfect,” I said, “as long as I get to pick the movie.”

  “Uh oh. I was hoping we could go see the sneak preview for Smokey and the Bandit.”

  “And I was hoping to see Annie Hall.”

  “Hmm. Let me see. Action packed comedy with Burt Reynolds and Sally Field . . . or another goofy Woody Allen oddball movie. Tough call.” He turned his head to the side as if in deep thought. “Oh, okay, fine. Annie Hall it is. Is it a date?”

  “It’s a date, Tucker.”

  “So, are you and Dr. Thompson an item now?” Dr. Love asked as he took his seat across from me in his office, his face beaming with expectation.

  “What? Oh, no. No! We’ve known each other for years. He and my brother were best friends growing up.” I blew out a raspberry to punctuate how silly I thought his misconception was.

  “That’s nice, but the fact that he and your brother were friends growing up doesn’t necessarily prevent you and Dr. Thompson from being an item. You sure looked nice together at lunch the other day.” He took a sip of his coffee, his warm eyes crinkling along with his mischievous smile.

  “No, Dr. Love. We are not ‘an item.’”

  “And why not? He’s a nice-looking young man, good family, good future . . .”

  I pursed my lips trying to convey my insistence. “Just friends, thank you very much.”

  “Well, that’s too bad.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I think it’s time you move on. You’ve made a lot of progress just in these past couple of weeks, Shelby. You’re a lot stronger now. Much different from the young woman I found crying in our church library that morning.”

  I smiled at him. I’d already grown to love this dear man. I’d always had such a different impression of pastors, assuming most of them were a bit “holier than thou” up close and personal. Dr. Love wasn’t that way at all. He was down to earth, humble, and he had such a genuine passion for people. You never felt like just another pew-sitter or name on the church roll in his presence. He made you feel like a long lost friend. Someone he cared deeply about. Never once had he made me feel like I was taking his time. Never once had he rushed me out the door f
or another appointment. I wasn’t sure how he did it, with such a large congregation. I only knew it came very natural for him. I guess that’s what it meant to be “called” to the ministry.

  We talked through some other issues, including my still-shaky matter of trusting men. I talked a good talk, but apparently Dr. Love saw right through me.

  “At some point you will be able to accept the fact that your sailor’s deceit was an isolated case. Not every young man on the planet is a con artist or heart breaker. I understand that you may still need more time to believe that here,” he said, thumping his heart. “But the day will come. Hopefully sooner than later.”

  “I’m scared, Dr. Love.” I looked up into his eyes. “Actually, that’s not completely truthful. I’m positively terrified to take a chance on falling in love again.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me in the least,” he said. “In fact, I’d be more surprised if you―” He paused, then coughed, whipping out a handkerchief to cover his mouth. I’d noticed he seemed short of breath, but then, he was a little on the heavy side. Everyone knew Dr. Love had a passion for good food. He was solid, built like a barrel with a broad waistline. And then there was that nasty cigar habit.

  Still, I couldn’t help be concerned. “Are you okay?”

  He waved me off. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Just a little cough. Where was I?” He stuffed his handkerchief back in the pocket of his slacks. “Oh, yes. Trusting again. You know the good Lord had a lot to say about trust. Might be a good idea to dig into your Bible and let Him remind you just how trustworthy He is.”

  “It isn’t God I have trouble trusting.”

  “No, but trust begins with Him.”

  I thought about that for a moment. I knew it was almost time to go. “Dr. Love, did you ever have your heart broken?”

  He blinked at my question, then smiled. “Oh, of course I did.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, I most surely did.” He paused again, as if debating what to say. Then quietly he said, “Her name was Magnolia Witherspoon.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s a name you don’t forget.”

  “Oh, I’ll never forget Maggie. She was the belle of the south. Prettiest little thing you ever saw. And I was so in love with her, I could hardly function.”