by Arlene James
“No?” Eva asked hopefully.
Exasperated, Magnolia rolled her eyes. “No. Now, you listen to me. I don’t know what God’s plans are for you, but I cannot believe He would bring you into Brooks’s life only to let you die. I don’t believe that for a minute. But you’ve got to grasp what He’s given you, young lady. I know you’ve found some faith by this time. Put it to use!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Eva said, smiling shakily and blinking back tears.
“Now give me your hand,” Magnolia commanded. Eva reached out with her hand. Magnolia clasped it, bowed her head and started praying.
Honestly! She’d warned this child what she’d do if she dared to hurt their dear Brooks, and she meant it, but Eva had made some significant strides. Magnolia had hopes for the girl, high hopes. She saw the way Brooks looked at her, the way he cared for her. They all did. Now Eva needed to see it. Magnolia beseeched her God to give Eva the courage needed to do what must be done and Brooks the patience and wisdom to help her do it.
Afterward, Eva seemed to be biting her lip to keep from laughing, even as her tears flowed. She hugged Magnolia, then she excused herself to make a phone call. Magnolia suspected that Brooks would be speaking to Eva again very shortly.
* * *
Eva went straight upstairs and used the house phone to call Brooks and tell him to schedule the surgery. Despite his obvious relief, he didn’t waste time chatting about her decision.
“Thank God,” he exclaimed. Then he got off the phone with her so he could call the neurosurgeon whom Murdock had recommended, promising to have details for her the next day.
Now that the decision had been made, Eva felt lighter of spirit than she had in some time. Determined not to worry about failure, she went to a drawer in the dresser and dug out the unregistered mobile phone she’d bought when she’d left Kansas City. Every day she fought the urge to check on her son. He had no way of reaching her because whenever she called him from this phone, the number was blocked on his end, but maybe that would soon change.
She carried the tiny phone to the sofa and sank down into its corner. Kicking off her shoes, she pulled up her feet and tucked them beneath her before whispering a quick prayer and dialing the number of her ex-husband’s home.
The phone rang three times before Ricky answered with a desultory, “Yeah?”
Strangely, he always seemed to answer when she called.
“Hey,” she replied chummily. “How you doing, big guy?”
“Mom!” he gasped. “Where are you?”
She hesitated a moment before answering him with a partial truth. “Texas.”
“What are you doin’ down there?”
“It’s a long story, son, but I’ve found a real nice place here, and—”
“Well, good for you!” he all but snarled. “And I’m stuck here with Dad and Tiffany. That’s so lame, Mom! They don’t want me, especially Tiffy. Ugh. I’m so sick of her and the way Dad takes up for her. ‘She’s young. She doesn’t mean it. She’s never had a kid before,’” he mimicked. “Well, I’m ten. Okay? And it’s not my fault she got between you and Dad. All she cares about is shopping, and all he does is work to pay for her stuff. Honestly, neither of them wants me here. I can’t—”
“Ricky,” Eva interrupted, “I’m trying to tell you that if everything goes as I hope, I can bring you down here with me in a few months.”
“Months!” he erupted. “Don’t you get it? I’m dying here!”
“You’re not dying,” she scoffed. I am dying, she thought. Except, she wasn’t dying. Maybe. If Brooks was right. And of course Brooks was right. He was Brooks, after all. It hit her, finally. She was not dying. She didn’t have to die. A giddy elation filled her. She barely heard what Ricky was saying.
“...hardly ever home, and when they are, she wants me to stay in my room. She says they can’t be themselves with me around and I shouldn’t see what they do. She’s probably right, ’cause they drink all the time, and no matter what I say, I’m sassing. It’s not fair!”
“Son,” Eva said, forcing herself back to the conversation, “it’s going to be okay.”
“Come get me,” he demanded. “Right now.”
“I can’t do that,” she told him. “Just give me time to...get on top of some things here. Then I’ll come. I promise. And I’ll explain everything.”
“You don’t want me, either,” he accused.
“I do, Ricky,” she vowed, sitting up straight, “so much, more than you can possibly imagine. Obviously I—I made the wrong choice for you. I thought a two-parent family would be best for you.”
“Ha!” Ricky said. “A no-parent family is more like it.”
“Okay,” Eva told him. “I get it, and I’ll fix it, but you have to give me a little time.”
“I can’t take much more of this, Mom,” he warned.
“Just a little more time,” she urged, “then I’ll explain everything, and we’ll start a whole new life together.”
“You left me,” he accused, his voice trembling.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” she apologized softly. Maybe, she decided, the time had come to act in faith. She’d agreed to the surgery. Now she had to act as if the surgery would be successful. “I’m going to give you a phone number,” she said, “for this place where I’m staying. I have friends here, good friends, and they’ll know how to reach me if you need me. Okay? And as soon as I can come for you, I will. I promise.”
“You better,” he grumbled, and she could hear him scrambling around for something to take down the number.
“Ready?”
“Go ahead.”
Somebody shouted that his dinner was getting cold, so as soon as she’d given him the ten digits, Eva told him they’d better ring off.
“I’ll call again in a few days,” she promised. “Say hello to Donita for me. Love you.”
He grumbled, and he didn’t return the sentiment before he hung up, but she was glad that she’d called. This conversation had confirmed for her that she was doing the right thing. Rick and Tiffany were never going to step up and be the parents that Ricky needed them to be. She had to do all she could in order to be there for her son.
Whatever else came after her surgery, she was going to get well and be a mother to her son, a better mother than she’d been to date. When she did finally leave this world for the next, she intended to make sure that her son had the opportunity to join her there, something she’d never considered before she’d met these Chatams and their friends. Aunt Donna’s Christianity had been all about hell; the Chatams’ Christianity was much more about Heaven. What mother didn’t want that for her child?
For the first time in months, years, really, Eva realized that she was looking to the future, not just existing day-to-day, moment-to-moment. From the day her marriage had fallen to shreds around her and she and Ricky had been left to fend for themselves, she had been treading water, just holding life and limb together, until her symptoms had shown up, at which point she’d simply let go. She’d surrendered her son, her precious boy, to her selfish, self-centered, almost continually absent husband and his equally self-absorbed second wife—and run, accepting death like the coward she was. How had she convinced herself that it was best for Ricky?
“God forgive me,” she said aloud.
She should be fighting for her boy, fighting for her life because Ricky needed her, because he needed to see her fighting for him, and they hadn’t a moment to lose. In fact, she could only pray that it wasn’t too late.
* * *
“One week from today,” Eva echoed, looking at Brooks across the expanse of his desk.
“I know it seems quick,” Brooks said, leaning forward and picking up the ink pen on the blotter, “but I’d have it scheduled for today if it was up to me. Unfortunately, the better surgeons h
ave heavy schedules, and a week is pretty amazing, all things considered.”
“I’d like it to be sooner, too,” she said, surprising him.
“Oh.” He sat back, clicked the pen and tossed it onto the blotter again. “I’m glad you feel that way because we have a consultation with him this afternoon.”
She tilted her head. “We?”
His heart thunked against the wall of his chest. All right, so he’d overstepped, but he had no intention of letting her walk into that appointment alone. For one thing, he didn’t trust her not to change her mind. For another, he didn’t want to wait to hear what the surgeon had to say after reviewing the radiology report. The third reason was the one he gave her, though.
“I don’t think you should be driving alone.”
She nodded slowly. “I see.”
For some perverse reason, Brooks heard himself say, “But if you prefer, I can ask Chester to take you to the appointment. He certainly knows the way to the hospital up in Dallas. He’s made the drive enough times at this point.”
She just sat there staring at him for several long seconds before she shook her head, rippling that lovely pale hair. “I wouldn’t want to put him out unnecessarily. Besides, I’d like you to be there. You’re my doctor.”
He pivoted his chair to the computer, hiding both his relief and his disappointment, and remarked dismissively, “We’ll leave at two o’clock, then.”
“All right.” She rose and smoothly left the room.
Brooks braced his elbows on the corner of the computer desk and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He hadn’t even thought before he’d made that appointment and cleared his afternoon. He’d just assumed that he would be going with Eva, the way he’d always accompanied Brigitte to her appointments with all the specialists they’d consulted. The idea that she hadn’t expected him to go, hadn’t wanted him to go, had hurt, and that was foolish, idiotic. That she might want him to go only to provide transportation and because he was her doctor was equally painful and that was equally stupid on his part.
Leaning back in his chair, he looked up at the ceiling. Of all the women in the world, he silently asked, why her? But no answer came. Instead, Ruby tapped on the door and stuck her head into the room, saying, “Three patients ready and waiting.”
Nodding, he got up and went to work. Answers—and Eva Belle Russell—could wait. Until 2:00 p.m.
Surprisingly, two o’clock came quickly, almost before Brooks knew it. With one patient lined up after another, he barely had time to think, let alone brood. He didn’t even have time for lunch, and Eva had noticed. As soon as they got in the car, she handed him a warm, cheesy, grilled chicken wrap loaded with shredded lettuce and sliced tomato, along with a cup of hot broth and a bag of almonds.
He peeled the paper off the microwaved tortilla wrap and smiled at her. “Thanks.”
He bit off the end of the sandwich, then took two more big bites, finishing the wrap before putting the transmission in gear. She just smiled and passed him a paper napkin.
By the time they reached the highway, the broth was cool enough to drink. He saved the almonds until they were walking from the parking garage to the appropriate hospital tower, finishing them just before they reached the surgeon’s office. Dusting his hands, he stuffed the empty bag into his coat pocket and escorted her inside.
The tiny waiting area was empty, but a receptionist opened a glass partition and welcomed them by name, asking them to come straight through. Brooks opened the door beside the reception counter and held it for Eva. They found themselves in a quiet, spacious, luxurious area filled with attractive desks, chin-high partitions and healthy plants. An attractive woman in a business suit took them to a cubicle where they answered a few questions while she typed into a computer, then she walked them through to a ridiculously large examination room.
Brooks hung their overcoats on hooks beside the door before looking around. “I obviously chose the wrong specialty.”
Eva narrowed her eyes at him. “You love what you do.”
He chuckled. “True. But I can wish it paid better.”
“You could get a handle on all the cash the practice is bleeding,” she said dryly.
“I thought that’s what you were going to do,” he told her.
She sent him a narrow-eyed look. “Hey, I’m working on it. I’ve been just a little distracted.”
He chuckled. “Uh-huh, and what’s going to be your excuse when the intruder inside your head is gone?”
Before she could retort, the door opened and the doctor walked in. An older man, surprisingly large and not at all neat in appearance, he stood in stark contrast to his surroundings. His thinning hair stuck up in odd places, his glasses were smudged and his clothing rumpled. Eva looked to Brooks with something very like shock in her mottled-green eyes. He gave her an almost imperceptible shrug and stuck out his hand.
“Sir,” he said, more for her benefit than anything else, “you come very highly recommended.”
“I should hope so,” the fellow chortled, pinning Eva with his gaze. “Is this the case, er, patient?” He shook Brooks’s hand then, but the gesture was clearly an afterthought.
“Uh, yes. Eva Russell.”
“Interesting,” he murmured, peering at her skull as if he could see inside her head. Abruptly, he waved a hand. “Sit, sit.” Then, without waiting for either of them, he plopped himself down on a rolling stool. “I have no bedside manner to speak of,” he admitted forthrightly, “but I’m a better than average mechanic, if I do say so myself, much better than average, frankly. You’d know that, though, or you wouldn’t be here. Now, let’s take a look.”
He rolled himself over to the light viewer and flipped it on. The pictures were already mounted. Brooks handed Eva down into a chair and pulled one forward for himself. The fellow ran an efficient operation, Brooks would give him that much. Over the next ten minutes, he convinced Brooks that he had a lot more going for him than that. After he had thoroughly impressed Brooks, he picked up a folder and handed it to Eva.
“Personalized pre and postsurgery instructions. Postsurgery instructions are divided by best and worst case scenarios. I’ll let you know on the day of surgery and again when you’re released from the hospital which set you are to follow, and I expect you to follow them to the letter.” He waved a hand at Brooks then and said, “But he’ll know what’s best, in any event. Lawyers make me say that other. Make our job a pain sometimes, lawyers, don’t they?”
“I guess they can,” Brooks answered diplomatically.
“Spoken like a man who’s never been sued,” the other doctor grunted.
“Well, no, I haven’t,” Brooks said.
“Me, neither,” the neurosurgeon announced proudly. He grinned. It was not a particularly pleasant sight. “Shocked you, haven’t I?”
Brooks laughed. “A little bit.”
The surgeon turned his sights on Eva. “Got any questions before I call it a day?”
“Recovery time,” she answered immediately.
“Depends,” he told her. “Could be a week. Could be six months.”
“Six months!” she yelped. “I have to be able to travel before that!”
Brooks’s head whipped around. Travel?
“Out of my hands,” the surgeon was saying. “If all goes as I expect, a month or so, but I said if, and I mean if. There’s no way of telling until I get in there, and then I can’t make any guarantees. You know the risks, everything from bleeds to infections and stroke.”
Frowning, she muttered, “A month. And that’s best case.” Her shoulders slumped, and for a moment she looked so woebegone that Brooks curbed the urge to slip his arm about her.
Just where was she planning to travel? One thing was certain, she wasn’t planning to travel anywhere wit
h him so she could only be planning to travel away from him.
Well, what had he expected? She’d been going somewhere when she’d tumbled into his life. What made him think she wouldn’t resume the journey as soon as she was able? He wished suddenly that he’d never redeemed her van, then recalled that he’d done it just so she would move on. The irony of that made him want to slap himself. Only as they walked back to the car did he realize that she knew nothing of his feelings for her, but how could she when he was just beginning to understand them himself?
Chapter Twelve
Hope. Eva had thought of it as a nasty four-letter word, one that could only bring her and her son pain, until she’d actually caught a case of it. Now that she had hope, it felt grand, and she wasn’t about to give it up again. That was why she asked Brooks to take her to prayer meeting again that evening and why she freely requested prayer for a good outcome to her surgery. People seemed to recognize the fact that she was having surgery at all was good news, and she felt comfortable telling a cluster of ladies afterward that she really needed to get on her feet and functional as quickly as possible.
“Places to go and people to see,” one of them bantered.
“Exactly! I have a life.” She wiped a hand across her brow. “Whew.”
Everyone laughed, not realizing just how completely she meant that statement. She noticed that Brooks frowned when he heard it, but he didn’t say anything about it later on the way back to Chatam House. Instead he talked of the fact that Hypatia would be returning home in just two days, on Friday, and whether the household had been adequately prepared for her. Eva felt sure they were ready, and he seemed to accept her assurance on the matter, which she found gratifying.
Over lunch on Thursday she finally shared her story—the medical part of it, anyway—with the girls in the office, and during the afternoon break they gave her a list of Bible verses dealing specifically with hope, advising her to memorize them, one at a time. While waiting for Brooks to finish his last appointment of the day, she started working on the shortest one, Romans 12:12, repeating it over and over to herself.
