by Loree Lough
Phillip shook his head as the elevator stopped on the third floor, and as she prepared to exit, Emily placed a hand on his forearm.
“As soon as I’ve finished my rounds, I’ll come to Gabe’s room. We can finalize travel arrangements and . . .” She stood in the doorway, preventing the doors from closing. “. . . and I want you to know if there’s something you need to get off your chest, I’ll listen.” Her fingers tightened on his sleeve. “And that I’ll help, any way I can. With anything.”
Did she realize that by standing there, looking up at him with those huge, long-lashed eyes, talking like someone who genuinely cared—not just about Gabe, but about him—she made him want to pull her close and hold on tight, and forget the promise that would protect him from falling in love with her?
Obviously, she didn’t realize, because if anything, her concern for him—for him—intensified. If he continued standing there . . .
Difficult as it was to do, he turned, made his way to the end of the hall, and opened the door he’d been avoiding since Emily’s brother and his partner rushed Gabe to Garrett’s ER.
The room was small. Quiet. Dimly lit. Phillip walked between rows of identical pews and knelt at the rail.
Perhaps, surrounded by flickering candlelight and in the shadow of the big wooden cross, God would assure him that Gabe would be all right. That he’d be all right once he and his son were no longer part of Emily’s daily routine.
* * *
Seated in the chapel’s front pew, Phillip focused so intensely on the cross that the candles’ glow blurred. It had been so long since he’d prayed. Did he even remember how?
He searched his memory for something, learned as a boy, that might jump-start things, and could almost hear Bishop Fisher’s croaky voice: “We pray to give praise and thanks, and to ask God to bless a loved one with protection. . . .”
Head bowed and eyes shut tight, he whispered, “Lord, don’t hold my stubborn nature against Gabe, who believes in You with all his heart. Heal him, because life without him would be . . .” Phillip couldn’t complete the thought, because such a thing was inconceivable.
And then Emily came to mind. Emily, whose diagnosis had finally given him an explanation for his son’s frail health. Emily, whose connections with Johns Hopkins and a top-notch surgeon gave him hope—gave the entire family hope—that soon, Gabe might run and play and laugh without growing faint . . . or worse. “You’re a fool,” he muttered, “if you think she’s interested in you as anything more than Gabe’s father.”
“Oh, but you are wrong, Brother.”
The quiet, husky voice startled him. Phillip turned to face his sister. Had he really been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard the door open? Hadn’t heard her footsteps? Hadn’t heard her sit directly behind him?
“Hannah. How long have you been there?”
“Exactly long enough. I brought Maemm to the hospital this morning.” She got up, then sat beside him. “It is good that you are talking with God.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to wait and see if He heard me.”
“He listens, always. You know this.” Hannah turned sideways, so that she could look directly into his eyes. “Your life has been hard. Too many losses in too short a time. No one understands better than God why you are angry, why you have trouble believing. He has heard, and He will answer.”
But would He answer in Gabe’s favor? “From your lips to His ear.”
“What you said about Dr. White, that she has no interest in you as anything but Gabe’s father? You are wrong.”
A dry chuckle escaped his lips. “Oh, I am, huh?”
“Always the pessimist.”
Funny, that’s what Eli, what he and his mother had always called her.
“I have eyes, Phillip. During my few visits here, I have tried to stay in the background and keep my opinions and questions to myself. But I have seen the way she looks at you. I have ears, too, and I have heard the way her voice changes when she speaks to you. Everything about her changes, as a matter of fact, from her smile to the way she stands. You have not noticed this?”
“No. But if you’re even slightly right, about these changes, I mean, it’s only because Emily—Dr. White—is a good person. A good person and a good doctor who cares deeply about her patients. I’m sure if we had an opportunity to watch her interact with other patients, we’d see the same things.”
“Always the pessimist,” she said again. “I know that many men have no respect for the things women think and feel. But you have always been better than those few. You must put your blindness aside, brother of mine, and listen to me.” She grabbed his hand, held on tight, and gave it a good shake. “I can tell you which ladies of the community are in love with their husbands, and which are going through the motions because they believe it is God’s will for them to do their duty without complaint.”
“How can you tell?”
“You could tell, too . . . if you chose to see. Love shines in a wife’s eyes when she looks at her husband. It softens her voice and gentles her touch. I feel these things with Eli and know that I am blessed. And all of these things tell me that Emily—Dr. White—is falling in love with you. If she is not already in love with you.”
What did it matter if Hannah’s assessment was correct? He’d lived all his years in Pleasant Valley, an Amishman, despite his refusal to speak or dress as the other members of the community did. Emily, on the other hand, had been raised English. The gap between the two seemed deep, and too wide for any bridge to connect them. Not even if that bridge was called love.
“I know what you are thinking. . . .”
Phillip fixed his gaze on the cross again. “That I want God to heal Gabe? That I expect Him to make sure the operation is successful, that my boy’s recovery will be swift and complete. . . .”
That I can find a way to pay the hospital bills, here and in Baltimore. That I can decide whether or not I want to raise Gabe in a community where seeking continued medical attention could be frowned upon.
“I am a mother, so I understand your worries.”
But she didn’t understand. How could she?
“If John or Paul were going through all of this, and I was expected to rely completely on God’s will alone . . .”
Her eyes dampened, but to her credit, Hannah quickly regained control of herself.
“I am first and foremost a believer, and I have put my faith in God. That is why I say Gabe will have a healthy future.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
She squeezed his hand again. “You must forbid such thoughts. Your son needs to see that you believe, so that he will believe. That is what will make him strong of faith as he meets this, the greatest challenge of his young life.”
Challenge. What a strange way to look at it.
“You owe it to him to at least try.”
Now, Phillip squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Hannah. You’re a good sister.”
“I will leave you in peace now, to converse with the Father. But first . . . I have not lost a spouse, as you have, and cannot imagine such pain. But Phillip, we both lost grandparents, a brother and a father, and like you, I often wonder if they might still be with us if we had depended less on God’s will alone, and more on modern medicine.”
She got to her feet and bent at the waist to press a kiss to his forehead. “This is the mystery of faith, is it not?”
Eyes on the cross once more, Phillip nodded.
“I will pray that God answers your prayers, so that you will have reason to believe. There is comfort in that—in believing—you know.”
No, he didn’t know. But Phillip was willing to try. Because Hannah was right. He owed it to Gabe to at least put in the effort.
* * *
All through rounds, Emily pictured Phillip’s face, lined by misery and uneasiness. She’d seriously considered wrapping her arms around him, offering words of solace, words to assure him that his little boy would be fine, just fine.
Under normal circumstances, she’d never voluntarily travel to another hospital, particularly with a patient and his family, even if someone like Alex had the power to ease the transition. But these were hardly normal circumstances.
The instant she entered Gabe’s room, Phillip’s mother pointed at Gabe’s bed and shushed her.
“He fell asleep just minutes ago. The child has not slept well. Who can sleep in this place, filled as it is with inconsiderate people, always poking and prodding.”
“They are only doing their job,” her daughter said. “How else can they know if Gabe is doing well or poorly?”
Sarah glared at Hannah. “They might use the eyes given them by the good Lord.”
Hannah looked at Emily and shrugged helplessly.
“Where is my son?” Sarah asked.
She must be imagining things, because surely the woman hadn’t meant to imply Emily kept track of her son’s whereabouts.
“I can’t say for certain, but last I saw him, it appeared he was on his way to the chapel.”
“He is there, still,” Hannah said.
“I find it difficult to believe,” Sarah said.
That it had been hours since she’d seen him? Or that he might have been heading for the chapel?
“Phillip has lost his faith. The chapel,” Sarah said, “is the last place he would go.”
Hannah patted her mother’s hand. “Maemm, we cannot be certain his faith is gone. Phillip has been under great stress since Gabe was brought here. Perhaps he is seeking solace, or answers from the Almighty. I have just come from the chapel, where he was praying with all his heart. It gave me hope, Maemm, that he will come around.”
Sarah pooh-poohed the idea. “I am surprised that he would spend time in an Englisher chapel with his only child here, afraid, possibly dying, and—”
“Maemm! Gabe might hear!”
“He is young, but not so young he does not realize that his father’s attentions have been . . . sidetracked.”
And he sees you, Emily thought, as the side-tracker.
“He should be here, with Gabe.”
“I will go back,” Hannah offered. She looked at Emily again, pleadingly this time. “I will bring him with me when I return.” On the way out, she grasped Emily’s hands, and leaning close, whispered, “I apologize. My mother has cared for Gabe since his own mother’s death. This is hard for her, too.”
“I understand. No apology necessary.”
“You are kind, just as Phillip described.”
Sarah waited until her daughter had left the room to say, “I hope you have no intention of waking my poor grandson. He needs his sleep.”
This might be the perfect opportunity to let the woman know that Gabe’s well-being was foremost in her mind, and perhaps assure Mrs. Baker that although things looked bleak, there was good reason to believe the boy would fare well.
She sat in the straight-backed chair beside Sarah’s recliner. “I’ve finished my rounds for the day, so there’s no rush on checking Gabe’s vitals.” Hands clasped on her knees, Emily added, “I’m happy to answer as many of your questions as I can . . . while he sleeps.”
“As many as you can?”
“I’m bound by hospital protocols and state law,” she began, then did her best to explain HIPAA regulations that barred her from revealing details of the case, and how, as part of their Hippocratic oath, doctors vowed to protect their patients in every way possible . . . including their privacy.
“But Hannah is right. Since die mudder died, I have been far more to him than die grossmammi. Besides, Phillip is not your patient, and you’ve given him all the details.”
In other words, as blood kin, she should be privy to the particulars, too. “True. But as Gabe’s father, Phillip is obligated to make decisions on behalf of his son. And he can’t act in the boy’s best interests unless he knows everything. Everything.” Emily paused. “But, as Gabe’s father, Phillip is free to share as much with you as he chooses.”
Sarah sat quietly for a few minutes, alternately nodding and sighing.
“Why is a woman your age not married?”
The question stunned her. Somehow, she found the presence of mind to say, “I dedicated countless hours over the years to becoming a doctor. Hours that wives normally spend with their husbands. Had I married, that wouldn’t have been fair to anyone, least of all my family.”
“Then why not become a nurse? Or a teacher? I have met Englishers who do those jobs, Englishers who are married, who have children.”
The answer was simple: “While teaching and nursing are noble callings, neither called to me. I’ve wanted to become a doctor since I was a little girl, when my mother struggled with a lifelong illness, and medications and following doctors’ orders bolstered her health.”
“You give no credit to God, none at all?”
“Of course. I have complete faith in the Almighty. But I also believe that it was God, Himself, who created men and women who enter the medical field, and blessed them with the gifts required to diagnose and heal their patients.”
Again, Sarah sat in silence, nodding.
“What are your feelings toward my son?”
If she’d known Sarah might ask that . . . Emily admitted that even with some warning, she wouldn’t have known how to answer!
“Well?”
The truth, experience had taught her, was always the best course of action.
“I have great respect for Phillip. He’s an easy man to admire—hard-working, dedicated to you, his sister and her family, and his love for Gabe is written on his face, and recognizable in everything he does.”
“Let me be clear, Dr. White. What I want to know is, are you in love with him?”
If Sarah had asked, “Can you see yourself in a personal relationship with him?” or “Are you attracted to him?” Emily would have had to say yes. But love?
“As you know, Phillip and I only met a short while ago.”
“That, Dr. White, is not an answer.”
“It’s the only truthful answer I can give you, Mrs. Baker.”
“Answer to what?”
Emily and Sarah looked toward the door, where Phillip stood, looking tired and worried . . . and annoyed.
Embarrassment colored Sarah’s cheeks, and Emily, sensing the woman’s apprehension, said, “I was just explaining the HIPAA laws to your mother. I stressed that while I’m not at liberty to provide her with details about Gabe’s case, you’re completely within your rights to share any information about the surgery and subsequent treatment with her.”
His face relaxed, but only slightly. Unless she was mistaken, he realized that her answer had one purpose: to cover for Sarah. Would he appreciate her effort, or think less of her because of it?
“I spoke with Dr. Williams a few minutes ago.” She continued with, “He’s cleared his schedule for the next two days so that he can concentrate on Gabe.”
“I look forward to our meeting, so I can thank him in person.”
“Speaking of which, will four o’clock tomorrow afternoon work for you?”
“Yes, I think you’re right. If we leave here early enough in the morning, we should get there with time to spare.”
Faint lines on his forehead told her that, with things coming to a head, Phillip’s tension had escalated, and Emily understood better than most why: Would his aging pickup truck survive the drive? How would he pay for the operation, for Gabe’s stay at Hopkins, follow-up treatments and medications, and the boy’s care here at Garrett Regional? Could he come up with a suitable excuse for leaving his mother behind?
“I think it’s best if I drive,” she said. “My car is a sedan, easier for Gabe to get into and out of, with space in the trunk for our luggage.”
He star
ted to protest, but she stopped him with, “Plus, it gets great gas mileage.”
Gabe tried to sit up. “How long does it take?” he asked, knuckling his eyes. “To get to Baltimore, I mean.”
Emily sat on the edge of his bed and, pressing her stethoscope’s diaphragm to his chest, said, “Four hours, give or take a few minutes.” The weak lub-dub-dub of his heartbeat concerned her, but she hid her worry behind a smile. “It’ll depend on how much construction traffic we encounter.” Knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight tomorrow, she added, “We’ll stop in Hagerstown—that’s the halfway point—for a bite to eat.”
He brightened a bit. “A real sit-down restaurant?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Hamburger and fries? And ice cream?”
He probably wouldn’t have much of an appetite for a few days following surgery, so she patted his knee. “You bet.”
He leaned right a bit, to get a better look at his father. “I can, Dad?”
Phillip’s expression relaxed and a loving smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Of course.”
The man loved his boy, that much was clear. Emily had a feeling his answer would have been the same, even if Gabe had asked him to tether the sun.
“I should be getting home,” Hannah said. “Eli and the boys will think I’ve become an Englisher.”
Sarah chuckled. “Ach. They know better than that!”
“I’ll drive you. And you, too, Maemm.” He’d let her talk him into one more visit, and seeing how relieved it made her to see Gabe again, Phillip knew he’d made the right decision. “This extra little visit was unexpected, so please don’t fight me on this. I’ll take you home now.”
“I can hire a taxi,” his sister said, “to take both of us home. You should stay with Gabe.”
Phillip met Emily’s eyes. “He’s in good hands here.” Looking from his sister to his mother, he added, “I got sidetracked when I was at home earlier and forgot to pack a few things for Gabe and me. And I need to make a withdrawal from the bank.”
