by Diane Moody
“I’m calling your boss, Colter. I have her number right here . . .”
I closed his door, ignoring his threat.
When the door tapped shut, I lost it. I ducked into the staff restroom and hid in a stall and cried so hard I thought I would throw up. After last night’s weep-fest over the whole prayer room mishap, I didn’t think I’d ever cry again. I was wrong. I kept seeing Megan’s beautiful face and hearing her laughter bouncing around in my head. I watched as Donnie and Megan performed one of their routines at our Campus Crusade meeting, leaving us all gasping for air from laughing so hard . . .
Megan. Gone.
And Donnie, scared to . . . death.
Oh God, please help me. Show me how to restore Donnie’s faith in You. Please break Your silence.
I couldn’t stand the emotional tsunami I seemed to be fighting. Had I really only been on the job a few weeks? I felt like I’d been here years. I needed to learn how to handle all of this better. How to be there for my patients—my friends—without falling apart. I needed to be stronger. I needed to know how to respond in these desperate situations.
But right now, I mostly needed God to show me how to help Donnie.
Chapter 23
The day had taken its toll. Sandra had a date that night, so I had the townhouse to myself. I put on some music and took a long hot bubble bath. I tried to read while I soaked, hoping to escape into someone else’s drama for a while, but I couldn’t concentrate. A deep sorrow coated my heart, and I couldn’t shake it. I put on my pajamas and tried to lose myself in some mindless television, but tonight even Laverne & Shirley couldn’t lift my spirits.
I gave up about 10:00 and went to bed only to toss and turn and drive myself crazy. I heard Sandra come in an hour or so later, but I didn’t feel like talking so I didn’t let her know I was still awake. I heard her go to bed and waited another half hour before I finally gave up and got dressed.
Forty minutes later I was on the elevator at Baptist. It was such a different place at night, the halls so empty and quiet. I got off on Seven, went to the nurses’ station, introduced myself, showed them my BMH ID card, and asked if by chance they knew if Dr. Love was awake.
Before you think I’ve lost my mind, coming to visit at such an hour, I should tell you that Dr. Love once told me how he could never get to sleep before one or two in the morning. I wasn’t sure if his normal routine might be off schedule, what with him being in the hospital and all, but my own restlessness had led me here at this late—make that, early—hour.
The nurse smiled. “I was just in there. He’s been talking my ear off. Normally I wouldn’t let you visit this late, but since you’re an employee and a friend, I’ll look the other way this time. Besides, you’ll be doing me a favor. He’s a sweet old guy, but glory, can that man talk! You go ahead and say hello. Just don’t stay too long.”
“I won’t. And thanks.”
His room was the last one on the right at the end of the long hall. I tapped gently on the door.
“Come in, come! Whoever you are, come in!”
I peeked around the door. “Hi, Dr. Love.”
“Shelby! What in the world are you doing here at this hour? You’re not working, are you?”
He pointed at the guest chair beside his bed, and I took a seat. He looked remarkably good, all things considered. The head of the bed was raised so he sat up comfortably, his Bible open on his lap. He wore a charcoal gray robe over his white pin-striped pajamas and somehow still looked . . . pastorly? Even his thick white hair was nicely combed and clean.
“No, I just couldn’t sleep. A lot on my mind, I guess. Then I remembered I hadn’t been up to see you yet. And then I remembered you said you could never sleep til the wee hours of the morning, so . . . I thought I’d try and sneak in for a visit.”
He reached over and patted my arm. “I’m so glad you did. It’s ghostly quiet around here at night. Except for those nurses. My heavens, they pop in here at least once an hour all night long. Even if I was to get to sleep, they’d come in poking and probing and asking me this or that. Makes a fellow anxious to get out of here just to go home and get some rest!”
“True. I hear that complaint all the time from my patients,” I said. “But how are you? How’s the recovery going?”
“Oh, it’s awful hard to keep an old codger like me down. They said I had some mini-strokes or something. But I feel fine. I keep telling them I was just trying to get a little attention.”
I smiled. “Right. As if you needed some attention. You don’t get enough, standing in that pulpit several times a week?”
“Shhh! Don’t you be giving away my secrets, now,” he said, chuckling.
“You sure gave us all a scare. That ER waiting room was packed when you came in.”
“Oh, I heard. And poor Elsie. She’s been hovering over me like a mama bear ever since they brought me in. I sent her home an hour ago. She wanted to stay again, but I could tell she was needing a good night’s sleep at home in a real bed.”
“I hope she’ll get some rest. How much longer will you be a guest of our lovely hospital?”
“Ah, that’s the million dollar question. I’m ready to go now, but Dr. Weir wants to keep me in a while longer ‘for observation.’ I told Ben that Elsie would do all the observing necessary, but he didn’t buy it. I reckon I’ll be here at least another couple days or so.”
“He’s good, Dr. Weir. You should listen to him.”
“Enough about me. What’s got you up this time of night?”
I blew out a puff of air and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Guess I’m just a little overwhelmed right now.”
“How so?”
“Oh, lots of stuff. But I didn’t come here to bother you with my problems.”
“Nonsense. Neither of us can sleep. Let’s have a nice little chat. What’s going on? Problems with that handsome Dr. Thompson? You just say the word and I’ll—”
“No! No, there’s nothing—I mean, that’s not a problem. He’s not a problem. Tucker’s great.” I stopped stuttering for a minute. “No, he’s the least of my problems.”
“Good. I like Tucker. He’s a good man with a good head on his shoulders.”
“Yes, he is.”
“Then, out with it, Shelby. What’s upsetting you tonight?”
And I told him. All about the miserable mess in the office and how badly I felt about all that, especially for disappointing Mrs. B. He talked me through it, assuring me that “Virginia” would be good to her word and give us all another chance. He applauded me for wanting to step up to the plate and prove I was worthy of her trust again.
Then I told him about Donnie. I wept as I shared Donnie’s story. I couldn’t help it. He patted my hand like an understanding grandfather and listened attentively as I expressed my concern for my friend’s loss of faith in God.
He leaned his head back against his pillow. “Oh Shelby, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard similar stories like your friend’s. We Christians are an odd lot. We think our faith is so solid, and then something breaks our hearts and we find out that solid foundation wasn’t so solid after all.”
“But what do you say? How do you help them find their faith again?”
“You don’t. You can’t. That’s the job of the Holy Spirit. If Donnie truly believed in God before all this happened, chances are he hasn’t really turned his back on that belief. He’s just lost his way. Lost his bearings. He’s obviously still grieving. And losing someone so close and precious—well, that’s hard. Mighty hard.”
“So I do nothing? Just pray for him?”
“You say that as if prayer’s not that important. Of course you pray! And what’s more, you pray hard. You storm the gates of heaven on his behalf. You cry out to God to pour His presence over Donnie in such a way that he’ll have no question whatsoever that God Himself has touched his life again.”
“But why does God go silent at times like this? Why would He desert Donnie when his heart was
broken—and in his case, quite literally broken. I’ll never understand why God does that.”
“Of course you won’t.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You won’t understand because you can’t understand. God is God. We try so hard to put Him in a box and think He’ll behave the way we think He should behave. But remember, He’s got the bigger picture. Sometimes He allows us to go through things—why, things we find absolutely unbearable—and we shake our fists in His face when He doesn’t respond the way we think He should. But my dear, He sees far beyond what you or I can see ahead of us. He sees miles on down the road, years into our future. As much as we might want to, we simply can’t know what He knows.”
The gentle Southern drawl in his voice soothed my spirit even if I didn’t completely understand all that he was saying. Well, I suppose I understood it. I just didn’t quite know what to do with it. It was nothing new, just a reminder of what I’d grown up knowing. But knowing and living it are two different things.
We talked a while longer, and I began to feel myself getting sleepy.
“Could I pray for you, Shelby? Pray for your friend Donnie?”
“I’d like that.”
And he did. The kindest, most heartfelt prayer for my troubled spirit and for Donnie’s doubts. By the time he said amen, I felt a wave of peace beginning to seep into my soul.
“Thank you, Dr. Love. And thanks for letting me bother you tonight. I’ll bet you’re glad none of the rest of your flock can sneak in late at night like this. You’d never get any rest.”
“That’s for sure. Although . . .” A mischievous grin played on his lips.
“Although what?”
He wiggled his index finger, motioning for me to lean closer. “You’re not the only after-hours guest I’ve had tonight.”
“Really?”
“Elvis was by earlier,” he whispered. “Slipped in the back door when no one was looking.”
I laughed, confident he was pulling my leg. “Sure he did, Dr. Love.”
He sat up, cocking his head to one side. “You don’t believe me?”
“Well . . . no, I guess I don’t. Why would Elvis—”
“Good heavens, Elvis and I go way back, my dear.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. We’ve been good friends for many years. Many’s a night he’ll call at two or three in the morning just wanting to chat. Sometimes he’ll ask me to drive over to Graceland and we’ll talk for several hours.”
“I had no idea, Dr. Love.”
“Well, I don’t tell too many folks. A fellow like him, with all that craziness around him all the time . . . he likes his privacy. He needs to know he can talk to me and not worry about our conversations showing up in some newspaper. My, how he loves to talk about the Lord, ask questions about theology and what not. We’ve had some interesting discussions, I can tell you that much. But I sure worry about him. He’s surrounded by so many bad influences and people taking advantage of his kindnesses. But he’s got a good grasp on what the Bible teaches. Problem is, like the rest of us, he has trouble living the life he knows he should.”
I stared at him, realizing I was sitting in the same chair the King had no doubt occupied.
“So what’s he really like?”
He laughed. “Oh, he’s just a normal guy like the rest of us, Shelby. Puts his pants on one leg at a time just like the next guy.”
“No, what’s he really like? Is he as charismatic as everyone says?”
“Well, he can definitely put on the charm when he wants to. And he knows how to use it, believe me. But underneath all that, he’s just a nice guy. A nice guy who’s carrying a heavy load most of the time.”
“Would you believe I met him once when I was really young?”
“You did? My goodness, that must have been quite a thrill for you!”
“It might’ve been except that I have no memory of it. He came down to Dad’s showroom in the middle of the night to let his buddies pick out Cadillacs—his Christmas gift to them.”
“Oh, that’s right! It had slipped my mind that ol’ Cadillac Jack kept Elvis stocked in Caddies for himself and his friends.”
“And complete strangers, from what I understand.”
“Oh my yes, he loves shocking folks by handing them the keys to a new Cadillac.”
I stood up. “Well, I need to go. Thanks again, Dr. Love. You take care of yourself, okay?”
“I’ll do that, Shelby. And thanks for coming by.”
“My pleasure. Goodnight.”
A few minutes later I walked out of the hospital into the cool night air wondering how someone like Elvis could play the game so well, flying under the radar to avoid all the pandemonium. What a life.
And to think I’d just missed him.
Again!
Chapter 24
Things were different the rest of the week. I don’t know how the other girls felt, but even the air seemed different around us. Maybe I was just paranoid, but it felt like Mrs. Baker was surely hiding around the next corner, trailing me all over the hospital, ready to catch me on a potty break. I could just imagine her barging into my bathroom stall, tsk-tsk’ing me as she peered over her readers, warning, “Time’s a wasting!” It made for a most uncomfortable work environment, but the only thing I knew to do was work hard and go lots and lots of extra miles.
I was careful to watch my time for lunch and coffee breaks, but I still took them. Tucker met me for coffee on Thursday at the end of another of his 48-hour shifts. How he and the other residents pulled those long hours, I had no idea. He looked tired but good.
“They just released Dr. Love,” Tucker said before giving his face a hard rub. “I had a chance to stop by before he left. He seemed to be doing a lot better.”
“I’m glad he finally got to go home. I just hope he can get some rest.”
“Oh, I guarantee Elsie will see to that.”
I leaned forward. “Did you know he and Elvis are good friends?” I whispered.
He smiled. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“So you knew?” I asked.
“No, but I’m sure their paths have crossed a few times. And probably right here at good ol’ BMH. Elvis is a regular customer around here, you know.”
I swatted his arm. “I know, I know. I just think it’s funny. Elvis and Dr. Love. I’d never figure them for friends.”
Tucker sipped his coffee. “Think about it, Shelby. Dr. Love doesn’t know a stranger. Elvis has . . . issues, shall we say. Memphis isn’t that big. And you’ve gotta figure someone like Elvis would seek out some kind of spiritual counseling from time to time. In between all the concerts. And all the girls. And—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“But enough about Elvis. Are we still on for Saturday night?”
“Saturday night? Well, I’d planned to do some laundry and paint my nails. And I was thinking about sorting out my sock drawer. You mean besides that?”
His eyes narrowed, a trace of disappointment in them. “Shelby.”
“I’m just kidding. But I had you going for a moment there, didn’t I? Of course I remember. We’re having dinner at the Peabody. But are you sure you want to do something that fancy? I’d be perfectly happy with fried green tomatoes at Frankie’s.”
“Nah, let’s do something fancy. We can do Frankie’s any time.”
“Do I need to wear something formal? An evening gown? Should I dust off my tiara?”
“Dust away, Moonpie. You wear whatever you like. I’ll probably wear surgical scrubs, but whatever floats your pretty little boat.”
“Scrubs? Well, then. I’ll just iron my PJs and the two of us will make quite the fashion statement.”
“If we want to see the duck parade, I should probably pick you up at 4:30. I know that’s kind of early, but I still think it’d be fun. Is that okay?”
“Works for me.”
He grabbed our empty coffee mugs and headed for the conveye
r belt. As he turned back around, he yawned, his face contorted.
“That’s lovely, Dr. Thompson. Really lovely.”
“Isn’t it though? I practice those in front of the mirror for optimal effect.” He put his hand on my back and guided me toward the cafeteria exit. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home to sleep. I’ll try to get up in time for our date.”
“That’s in two days.”
“It sure is. Two days of blissful slumber. See you, Shelby.” He tossed me a wink over his shoulder and headed toward the Union exit.
I was just about to go back upstairs when I heard my name paged. When I called, the operator told me Mrs. Baker asked me to stop by the office.
Must be my turn.
I’d heard the other girls talking about their one-on-ones with Mrs. B. For the most part they’d gone well, though I’d been warned our boss wasn’t letting up on her steely new demeanor in these private sessions. But I was glad to have my turn and looking forward to putting it behind me.
We walked together to the same small conference room where we’d all met earlier in the week. The silence was unnerving, so I tried to make small talk as we entered.
“I understand Dr. Love went home today.”
“Have a seat, Shelby. Yes, he did. Elsie will have her work cut out for her trying to make him take it easy. But I expect he’ll do fine. Dr. Weir has indicated his progress has been remarkable, all things considered.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I think the world of him.”
“I do, too. Now. Enough about Thomas.”
I took a deep breath, bracing myself.
“Shelby, I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you how disappointed I’ve been in you. You came with such a high recommendation from Rachel Bauer. I’d never have dreamed that you would fall into the bad habits some of the other girls have apparently lapsed into.”
“I know, Mrs. Baker. I’m disappointed in myself too. And I hope you won’t hold it against Rachel that I blew it. It’s actually completely out of my character to do something like that, and I want to apologize—again. I give you my word that I’ll never let that happen again. I love my job. I want to be the best I can be.”
