"What do you mean?"
Elle gritted her teeth and pulled off the swabs taped to her hands. “I'm starting to feel helpless. Two weeks ago I was in the ER saving lives that rested in my hands and now I'm fully dependent on someone else to help save mine from a disease I wasn't even smart enough to see coming!"
"You aren't helpless and you certainly don't lack intelligence. You're just proving why they say doctors make the worst patients."
"Did I ever tell you why I became a doctor?” she inquired softly.
"No. You've always been so passionate, I just assumed it was a lifetime goal you had from the moment you touched a toy stethoscope as a kid."
"I never even thought about it until I was sixteen.” She smiled sadly. “I can still vividly remember the day I saw my grandmother in the hospital right before she passed, and while I was in the room her heart stopped. I just stood there in horror for a few seconds that felt so much longer while nurses and a doctor ran in and moved me into the hallway.
"It terrified me, not knowing what to do. It was the worst feeling in the world to be helpless against saving a life that was fading away. I glimpsed through the little opening in the door, envious of those health care workers who knew what they were doing while they fired the defibrillator and pressed it to her chest. And when I saw the flat-line on the heart monitor suddenly rise in a slow, steady rhythm, that's when I knew I was going to be a doctor, because I never wanted to feel that way again."
He rested a calming hand to her back. “And now you are an incredible doctor and have helped to save countless lives."
"But I feel just like I did then, except now I'm both the doctor and patient. And we both know that won't last much longer. Who wants to be treated by a doctor who looks worse than they do?"
"Elle, they don't take away your medical degree for being sick."
"No, not literally, but part of me can feel it slipping away. I used to hear people talk about the smells and sounds in hospitals and I thought they were crazy because they had become mundane to me. Now, with this new point-of-view, I understand."
Philip draped his arm over her shoulder and leaned closer, the slight whiskers from his five o'clock shadow skimming her forehead. “It's okay to be nervous. It's okay to be worried."
"I've done so well keeping myself together. I didn't crumble when I got the diagnosis and I haven't slipped and told my parents before I'm really ready. I haven't shed a single tear. And now today I'm suddenly starting to crack."
"Would shedding a tear really be so awful? What's the worst that can happen?"
"I might not be able to stop."
"Eventually you will, but until you do, I'll be right here beside you to dry every tear."
"No.” Elle abruptly pulled out of his arms, even though she longed to stay in his embrace. “We're being irrational."
"Why?"
"Because, right now, I'm not up for playing games. It's not fair to you for me to just pop back into your life after we called things off and dump all of this into your lap."
"I don't recall you dumping anything on me. I'm the one who asked you to tell me what was going on."
"It's not your job to worry about me anymore.” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “There isn't a ring here. You're not tied down to me! You're free to walk away from this, away from me."
"I was never tied down to you. I was with you because I wanted to be. I still do. And after that kiss we shared this morning, I think you still want to be with me, too."
"I would never deny that I got caught up in an attraction to you that hasn't faded. But I don't want kisses and hugs prompted by feelings that were reassembled from pity. Neither of us are in the proper mindset to be thinking about reconciliation right now."
"Quit talking about us like we're an equation. Do you really think I don't know you well enough to see what you're doing?"
"And just what is that?” Elle asked bitterly.
"You're trying to push me away. And you might as well quit and start saving your energy because I'm not going anywhere."
"How can you be sure? How can we just pick up where we left off after a couple of days together? We've both walked away from each other, Philip, before we were even dealing with something this serious!"
"That's all the more reason why it can work now. We've already seen what happened when we allowed ourselves to act so foolishly. Maybe I did argue with you and I didn't fight to win you back when you shoved that engagement ring in my hand, but I never stopped caring about you, even before I knew you were sick.” He drew in a ragged breath and locked his gaze with hers. “I love you, Ellie."
Elle sat silently, savoring the slight echo of the three words she had so desperately missed.
"Maybe we have only been together here a few days, but we were together three years before that. We argued about living arrangements and wedding details, but did we ever really argue about the vows that are truly paramount? To love, honor, and cherish?"
"No."
"If you can tell me you don't love me anymore, then I'll stop pursuing a romance with you. Do you still love me, Ellie?"
"Yes,” she murmured instantly, blinking back the tears that came so close to leaving her eyes. “I never stopped. But things can't be like they were, because I'm not like I was. Perhaps we didn't debate about vows, but we also never took them. What about in sickness and in health?"
She paused and struggled to calm her quickening breath and rapid pulse when an unwanted realization brutally struck her. “I am sick. I've desperately wanted to keep on pushing away the truth these last few days, even though I know better, but I can't anymore."
"I understand that."
"Do you? It's not just a diagnosis and test results now. The next time I come here and sign in at the front desk, I won't be putting my name under blood work. It's going under chemo. I have lymphoma, Philip, I have cancer!"
"Hodgkin is treatable. You can beat this!” he reminded her. “You have an excellent prognosis."
"But I don't have a guarantee.” The tears she'd held in for so long slowly trickled down her cheeks. “And I'm scared, Philip, I'm so scared!"
When he cradled her in his arms, she openly wept and clung to his chest. For several minutes, Philip sat silently, just holding her until her sobs weakened. Then, he took her face in his hands and absorbed the tears left on her cheeks with tender kisses.
"I'm scared about the future, too,” he admitted. “But one thing I do know is that I'm not leaving your side. Even if you didn't love me anymore, I wouldn't have turned away. We're in this together, working through sickness to get back to health."
"Even when the days come when I'm so tired I'm more like a zombie than a person and vomiting profusely?"
"Everyone reacts differently to the medication. We'll just have to hope the side effects are mild. But even if they aren't, I'll be there to help you into bed and hold your hair back when you get sick."
"You mean holding it back while it's still there.” Elle twirled a long ginger lock around her finger and sighed. “I know it's trivial to be upset about the strong chance that I'll lose it, but I am. You always told me it was pretty."
"It is,"—Philip tucked a strand behind her ear—"but it's not the most beautiful part of you. Actually, your beauty is the second thing that attracted me to you. The first thing was your voice."
"What are you talking about?"
"We both noticed each other back in Indy before we were assigned to work together, you saw me making a balloon and I heard your voice echoing through the lounge door. I heard you talking to your resident, telling him you thought he was being dismissive with a kid who came in with flu symptoms whom you believed could have Marfan Syndrome."
Elle's eyes widened at the memory. “Oh my goodness, I remember! That teenager had some of the presenting factors—he was very tall, he had abnormally long extremities and a curved sternum. I was afraid his flu-like symptoms were actually indicative of the condition affecting his heart.
"
Philip smiled brightly. “And you were right. He was rushed into surgery to repair his aorta before it was too late. I was in awe of you and didn't know if I would have had the courage to fight the way you did and risk career suicide. You're a fighter, Ellie."
"It's hard to feel like one right now.” She wiped away a lingering tear.
"You should. Just think about the man you helped a couple of days ago. It took a lot of nerve to turn an antique shop into an emergency room."
"At first it was frightening and I doubted my own sanity when I decided to use a pocket knife and ink pen as medical supplies,” she confessed. “But after I made my first incision for the cricothyrotomy, I was actually more at ease than I had been in several days and back in my element. Right then, it didn't matter if I was also a patient, it was more important to be a doctor and fight for him."
Philip took her hand firmly in his. “And now it's time to fight for you. You can do this. You're the strongest person I know."
"How can you say that when your coat is soaked with my tears?"
"Because it's the truth. In fact, it's part of the reason why I didn't go back and talk to you after you returned your engagement ring. I wanted to work things out because I felt incomplete without you in my life. But you've always been so strong I knew you could get along just fine without me."
"I was getting along, but I wasn't ‘just fine’ without you even before I was worried about my health. You think I'm a fighter, but I gave the ring back because I wanted the fighting to end. I couldn't take arguing day after day with someone I love so much. What if I fall while I'm fighting this?"
Philip leaned his forehead against hers and whispered. “Then I'll carry you."
Too tempted by the mere inches that separated their lips, Elle kissed him. A warmth came over her that pushed away the winter chill. She wrapped her hands around his neck and slid her fingers into his golden hair, allowing the kiss to grow deeper. She savored the familiar taste and touch of his lips and breathed in the tantalizing scent of his musky cologne when she pressed a kiss to his Adam's apple.
"Ooooo!"
Elle tilted her head toward the sound of a high-pitched squeal, horrified when she saw a group of children standing in front of the park bench, some pointing with open jaws and others singing ‘k-i-s-s-i-n-g.'
"Come along, children,” a middle-aged woman ordered, shooing them away. “We have Christmas carols to sing. Let's leave these lovebirds alone."
After the children left, Philip burst into a loud, contagious laugh that made Elle giggle, the icy shadows from their breath permeating together in the cold air.
She pressed her hands to her blushing cheeks. “I haven't been so embarrassed since junior high when my dad caught me kissing Tommy Raye in the garage."
"I personally enjoyed it far too much to bother being embarrassed. Now, just who is this Tommy Raye guy?"
"No one of importance. Even if you weren't my first kiss, you're the only one that really mattered, Philip,” Elle assured him, tracing his lips with her fingertip.
"Likewise. You want me to walk you back to your car now that you're feeling a bit better? It's awfully cold out here."
"I think I'll listen to a couple of songs,” Elle said as the children gathered in the center of the park started singing. “I've been using Christmas as a crutch so frequently to escape my bad news that I actually kept myself from enjoying it."
"Hopefully now you'll be able to enjoy Christmas Eve tomorrow."
"I'd like it more if you were with me. Do you have a shift tomorrow night or plans with your family?"
"I'm working pretty late into the night. After I'm finished, I'm going to drive over to Owensboro and crash at my parents’ place so I can be there for Christmas morning and afternoon before I go in for another night shift."
"Would you feel up to stopping by my family's annual Christmas Eve bash before you head home?"
"Are you sure they'd want me there?” Philip asked skeptically. “I could see where it would easily be awkward. And I may not get there until eleven or so."
"That's fine. A few of our closest friends and family members stay until midnight to start Christmas together. And if I explain that you and I have reconnected before you arrive, I think my parents will be fine, happy even. They've always liked you."
He raised a brow. “Will Tommy Raye be there?"
Elle grinned. “Well, a lot of people in my neighborhood often pop in, so I guess it's a possibility if he's in town."
"Oh, then I will definitely be there. And so will my lips, so his better not be anywhere near yours'."
"You have my word."
She snuggled closer to him and listened to the kids wishing everyone in the crowd congregating around benches and playground equipment a happy holiday with ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.’ The lyric 'next year all our troubles will be out of sight' reverberated in her ears. She slipped her hand into her jeans pocket and clutched the small card holding the date of her chemotherapy treatment, praying that by next Christmas her pocket would be empty.
* * * *
Philip walked up the driveway lined with cars to Elle's childhood home, gazing up at the two-story house decorated with large, blinking strands of lights, glittering snowflakes in each window and a nativity scene in the front yard. He idled on the doorstep, feeling like a stranger about to enter a home where he had once been welcomed and treated like family.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the present waiting for Elle in his shirt pocket, reminded of the bigger purpose that brought him here and the promise he intended to keep. Hoping he wouldn't cause her family any discomfort with his presence that could potentially ruin one of their last carefree days before Elle revealed her illness, he tapped his fingers against the door.
"Philip Wagner!"
"Hi-i, Mrs. Hennessy.” He smiled nervously when Elle's mother appeared in the doorway with a bouncing energy that jingled the silver bells attached to her red and green sweater decorated with Santa faces.
"Oh, Philip, you know you can call me ‘Marla.’ It's good to see you again,” she said sincerely and wrapped him in her arms. “I'm so glad Elle invited you."
Philip returned her hug and all the anxiety in his body instantly evaporated. “So am I, Marla. Thank you for allowing me to be here."
"Come on in the house and get out of the cold,” she insisted. “You can leave your coat here with me and I'll hang it up so you can hurry ahead and join what's left of the party."
He stepped inside and glanced through the crowded living room and nearby hallways. “Do you know where I could find Elle?"
"I believe she's cemented a spot for herself in the kitchen, helping with refreshments tonight so she can make sure her father doesn't indulge in too many sweets. You know where it is."
"Thanks.” He tugged off his coat and placed it in her waiting hands. “I'm going to go say ‘hello.’”
"Philip,” Marla said suddenly, catching his arm before he walked away. “The last couple of days, I couldn't help thinking that something isn't quite right with Elle. And even though I can't shake away my concern entirely, I was elated this morning when she told me you two had reconnected and you were coming here tonight. I saw a light in her eyes I haven't seen in months. Please don't let it grow dim again."
"Believe me, Marla, if I had my way, I would shield your daughter from all pain and go through it for her.” He gave her hand a reassuring pat when a touch of deepening worry shadowed her face and threatened to dampen her holiday cheer. “To put it simply, I want to keep that light burning."
"Good. Now, you go on and find her. Maybe you can talk her into finally leaving that kitchen and having a little fun."
"I'll do my best,” Philip promised and worked his way through the horde into the kitchen.
"Daddy,” he heard Elle saying sternly when he slipped inside, “I saw that handful of cookies you have poorly hidden under a pile of carrots and celery."
"Oh, pumpkin,
relax. A couple of cookies won't hurt my ticker."
"No, but a few handfuls could."
The redheaded man lifted a brow thoughtfully when he spotted Philip in the corner. “Well, why don't we ask the other doctor's opinion?"
"Whoa, I don't think I want to get in the middle of this.” Philip gave Elle a quick smile when their eyes met.
"Come on, humor me, kid,” her father persisted. “Doesn't a man who is willing to wear this goofy, itchy thing for his wife deserve a few extra gingerbread cookies?"
Philip swallowed back a laugh when he glanced at the festive sweaters Elle and her father donned that matched her mother's. “As a doctor I should negate that, but my testosterone is making me empathetic. Are you a diabetic, Mr. Hennessy?"
"Nope."
"Then I think a couple of cookies in the spirit of the holidays would be all right."
"A-ha! You hear that, Elle? You've got to loosen up, honey. You're far too uptight lately."
She sighed in defeat. “All right, Dad. But I'm sure even Philip agrees there's a difference between single servings and handfuls."
"Sorry, sir,"—Philip shrugged—"I can't argue with that."
"Well, at least you helped me slip a few past the warden. It's good to have you around again, Phil, so don't do whatever you did before to screw things up."
Elle stood in shock with her mouth gaping open while her father shuffled back to the living room. “I'm so sorry, Philip. I don't know why he said that. I never said you were to blame—"
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Shush. It's okay,” he promised with a light chuckle. “I think it's kind of nice, actually. It's a sign of how much your parents love you."
"And I love them just as much. That's why I volunteered to wear this crazy sweater, despite the insane itching, to try to give my mom a really great Christmas before I tell them and ruin their New Year. I'm not sure my big brother will ever forgive me for digging these out."
"He will. And I bet your parents are stronger than you think. Shock and sadness are unavoidable, but they're going to be there for you just like I am."
On A Cold Winter's Night Page 11
