All He'll Ever Need

by Loree Lough

  “So they kissed. What’s the big deal?”

  “What’s the . . .” She expelled a groan of frustration. “Mr. Baker is Amish, for starters. Those people are like babes in the woods. They’re not used to dealing with predators like Dr. White. He’s an innocent, probably has no idea what she did . . . what she’s still doing. And as if that isn’t bad enough, he’s vulnerable, too. Raising that little boy alone and scared to death that he might lose him. Enter the great protector, to arrange an operation at Hopkins, performed by a friend who just so happens to be the best in the field. So that now, in addition to being innocent and vulnerable, he’s beholden to her too! She’s using him, Mike. Can’t you see that?”

  “What I see,” he said, “is that you’ve painted a dark, ugly picture, and somehow talked a few of your cronies into seeing the same thing. But so far, everything you’ve said is based on your opinion. And that isn’t enough, not nearly enough, to drag Dr. White before the ethics board.”

  “Not just my opinion. Half a dozen of us are in agreement.”

  “Does that mean you’ve already filed a complaint?”

  “We’re working on the, ah, the wording.”

  “And when the complaint is free of run-on sentences and dangling modifiers, when all your t’s are crossed and your i’s are dotted, are you planning to give her a copy?”

  “Nope.”

  Oh, how he wanted to wipe that smug, self-assured smirk from her face!

  “Y’know, I never realized just how lucky I am.”

  “Lucky?”

  Her haughty look dimmed, and in its place appeared complete bewilderment.

  “I came this close”—he held the pads of his forefinger and thumb nearly together—“to getting involved with you.” Mike grimaced. “I feel sorry for Dr. White.”

  Eyes wide, she said, “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

  Yeah, he probably would.

  “I thought we were friends.”

  An old catchphrase came to mind: “With friends like you . . .”

  She stood close enough that he felt her breath on his cheek when she said, “If you warn her, you’ll be sorry.”

  Maybe, he thought, walking away from her, but not as sorry as he’d feel if he didn’t warn Dr. White.

  * * *

  “You’re sure you don’t want more coffee cake, Dad?”

  Dutton White Jr. patted his round belly. “Miranda, darlin’, if I take one more bite, I’ll explode!”

  Last time Emily had seen her dad looking this contented had been last Christmas morning, when he’d sat cross-legged on the floor near the tree, passing out packages her sister had wrapped and labeled for her own kids and Joe’s.

  Now, Dutton pushed back from the big round table. “Does my heart good to see all three of you together.”

  “You two really should move back to Baltimore,” Miranda said. “Just think of all the hours you’d save, driving back and forth on those dangerous, eighteen-wheeler-clogged highways.”

  “Aw, truck traffic doesn’t bother me,” Pete said. “But find me a job, and you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ve always felt right at home up there in your guest room. Why not make it permanent?”

  Miranda’s youngest fist-pumped the air. “Do it, Uncle Pete!” His older sister chimed in with, “Yeah! And every Saturday night, we could watch those black-and-white TV shows you like so much, just like when you’re here for Thanksgiving and Christmas!”

  On the occasions when they’d made the Baltimore-bound trip together, the constant ruckus and lack of privacy had been Joe’s main complaint during the drive back to Oakland. Once, she’d teased him, blaming his need for quiet and solitude for his confirmed bachelor status, and he’d countered with, “It’d be different if the noisy busybodies were mine.”

  “That isn’t a half-bad idea,” Dutton said. “I won’t be around forever, you know.”

  Joe, grinning like the Cheshire cat, said, “Hmpf. You know what they say . . . ‘Only the good die young.’”

  It was good, Emily thought, being surrounded by her loving family. All those hours in the OR proved she could spend time with Alex, and not want to wallow in “what could have been” thoughts. It proved something else: Everyone on the team had made it clear that she’d fit right in . . . if a move to Baltimore was in her plans . . .

  “Wipe that ‘if only’ look off your face, Em. You can’t leave Garrett Regional, and we both know why.”

  Dutton, Joe, and Miranda watched her, and so did her nieces and nephews. Please, Pete. Please don’t mention—

  “She’s too invested in the little boy she brought to Hopkins.”

  “Why? He doesn’t have parents?” Joe asked.

  Pete winked, then sent a don’t worry look her way. “He’s Amish, see, and big-hearted Emily is worried—at least this is what I think—that he won’t get the proper ongoing care now that his operation is over.”

  Dutton asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

  “His heart wasn’t beating properly,” she began, “so we implanted a device that will regulate it.”

  Everyone seemed suitably impressed, and then Joe said, “Hate to be a party pooper, but I need to get back to the office.”

  “Tiffany will be here any minute,” Miranda added, “to pick me up for the PTA meeting.”

  “I told Andy I’d meet him at the park.” Dutton rubbed his palms together. “Today, I’m gonna wipe up that chessboard with him!”

  “Think Mrs. Collins would mind dropping me off at the mall? Caitlin and Penny are meeting me there,” Miranda’s daughter said. Her son piped up with, “Yeah, and can you take me to Jimmy’s? It’s right on the way.”

  “So much for ‘you guys oughta uproot your lives, move back to Baltimore for more’”—Pete expelled an exaggerated cough—“‘family closeness.’”

  Amid grins and giggles, they grabbed purses, briefcases, keys, and jackets and made their way to the door.

  “Make yourselves at home,” Miranda said. “Be sure to lock up on your way out.”

  As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Emily began gathering paper plates and napkins while Pete stacked the brunch dishes.

  “Thanks, Pete, for not blowing the whistle on me.”

  He’d just bitten the point off a wide slice of apple crumb coffee cake. “Hey. I’ve always had your back,” he said around it. “No reason to shake things up now.”

  “Still, I appreciate it. Things would have gotten real uncomfortable, real fast, if they found out about Phillip.”

  Pete snickered. “That’s the closest you’ve come to admitting I was right.” Then, “But why would things get prickly? You’re single, he’s single . . . no harm, no foul.” He grabbed a clean paper plate from the cabinet above the sink, carried it toward the family room. “Let’s put our feet up, watch some mindless TV sitcoms. No telling when we’ll get another chance to relax, surrounded by the comforts of somebody else’s home.”

  Laughing, Emily dropped onto the love seat. “If that’s your way of hinting for info on Gabe’s condition, I can tell you this: I anticipate a full recovery. With a little luck, he’ll be sleeping in his own little bed this time next week.”

  “I never doubted it for a minute. What I’m wondering is . . . how are things between you and Dr. Dread?”

  He’d never liked her ex, and when the relationship ended, Pete never missed a chance to insult Alex.

  “He behaved like a consummate pro and a perfect gentleman.”

  “Hmpf.”

  “It was a pleasant surprise, believe me.”

  “So the field is clear, then.”

  “For . . . ?”

  “For you to move forward with the Phillip thing.”

  “The . . . what?”

  “C’mon, Em. ’Fess up. You’ve got a major crush on the guy. There isn’t a thing wrong with that.” He scrolled through the TV’s guide, stopped on a movie set on an Amish farm.

  “I’ve seen that one before. Twice.”

>   “Yeah, me too.” He turned down the volume. “But if a big-city FBI agent and an Amish woman could make it work—with the mob pokin’ round—why not you and Phillip?”

  “It’s fiction, for one thing. And the way things ended, we don’t know whether or not the characters ended up together.”

  “Funny, I figured he went back, and the community welcomed him.”

  Emily had always hoped the same thing. “But still, it’s fiction,” she repeated.

  “Yeah, well, think about this for a minute. Phil’s mom could probably use a break. And Gabe could definitely use a medical professional nearby, to oversee his recovery.”

  Emily exhaled a heavy sigh. “Pete . . .”

  “What? It could work. GPS the distance between your house and Phil’s. You’ll see for yourself. It’s a five-mile drive. Ten minutes, tops. Even a super-busy, über-popular doc like yourself can squeeze that into her schedule. All treelined back roads, I might add, so, tranquility, to boot!”

  It did sound lovely. But she couldn’t see herself settling into his Amish community. And although Phillip had expressed discontent with the Plain life, she couldn’t see him giving it up for the city, either. Emily shook her head.

  “Where there’s a will,” Pete quoted, “there’s a way.”

  “Yeah, and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

  “Dance like nobody’s watching.”

  Laughing, Emily said, “Now you’re reaching for straws.”

  “Oooh, good one. Wish I’d-a thought of it.” He sobered slightly. “But you know I’m right. You want a life with him? Go for it. I’m with you, all the way.”

  She wasn’t ready to get into this right now. Didn’t know if she’d ever be ready. “I should get back to the hospital. Think Miranda will mind if we borrow her SUV?”

  “She told us where the keys are, in case we want to pick up a few things. But I’ll take you.”

  He’d parked the emergency vehicle in their sister’s driveway. “Your boss was more than generous, giving you permission to use the ambulance to transport Gabe to Hopkins and back again. We shouldn’t take advantage.”

  “Jake won’t see it that way. He knows we have family in town. And I said I’d owe him one. Anyway, it’s just a short drive.”

  He turned off the TV, placed the pizza box on the kitchen table and, jangling his keys, said, “Let’s skedaddle, ’cause you-know-who is wondering where you are.”

  She’d invited Phillip to join them at Miranda’s, and he’d wisely declined. She could almost read his mind, churning with reasons why a meeting like that could prove awkward for everyone. “Thanks,” he’d said, “but I think I’ll stay here, in case Gabe needs me.” Right now, he was probably pacing the small space at the foot of Gabe’s hospital bed, his gaze flicking from the door to the clock, wondering how much longer before Gabe could sit up. Talk. Smile. Was he also wondering how soon she’d return to his side?

  “You know I’m right,” Pete had said. “You want a life with him? Go for it. I’m with you, all the way.”

  In the coming weeks, as she monitored Gabe’s recovery, Emily would have plenty of time to think and pray, and consider whether to discuss the subject of them with Phillip . . .

  . . . or not.

  * * *

  According to the clock, she’d been gone for three hours. Why then, did it seem more like three days?

  Because, you fool, you’re in love with her.

  “Dad?”

  Phillip stood at Gabe’s side. “What is it, Son?”

  “Did you call Grossmammi?”

  “I did. Called your aunt Hannah, too. They’re both real happy that you’re doing so well. Said to tell you they miss you and can’t wait to see you. John and Paul said the same.”

  “When can I go home?”

  “Well, Dr. Williams needs to have a look at your incision, at your chart, and if everything is fine—and I expect it will be—he’ll want to keep an eye on you for a few days before signing your release papers.”

  “What about Dr. White?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she’ll weigh in, too.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She and Pete are spending a little time with family. Living four hours away makes gatherings a little tough, so they decided to make good use of their time in Baltimore.”

  “I would not like it if we lived far from family.”

  Phillip’s grip on the bed’s guardrail tightened. He wouldn’t like it, either. Yes, he still had unresolved issues with the community’s rules, but even so, he couldn’t imagine living far from his family.

  The right side of his boy’s mouth lifted slightly. “Your stomach is rumbling again. Did you skip breakfast?”

  “I grabbed a muffin from the doughnut cart,” Phillip told him.

  “Grossmammi would scold you for that.”

  “You’re right. So let’s not tell her, okay?”

  “Only if she asks.”

  “Thanks, li’l buddy.” He mussed Gabe’s hair. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “No. It itches under the bandage, though.”

  “You know better than to scratch it, right?”

  “Yes. Dr. White told me that scratching could break the stitches.” Eyes wide, he added, “I do not want my insides falling outside!”

  “That wouldn’t happen, even if you popped a stitch or two. But she’s right. It’s best to leave the incision alone.”

  “Soon, they will bring my lunch. If you talk to the nurses, they can order a tray for you. Then we could eat together. Almost as good as being home again.”

  “Great idea. Stay put while I get in an order.”

  “Da-a-ad . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Where would I go?” He thumped the right bed guard, then the left.

  “I see your point.” He tweaked Gabe’s nose, then hurried toward the nurses’ station.

  “Sorry I waited until the last minute to do this,” he said, “but is it too late to order a lunch tray? Nothing special. Whatever they’re bringing for Gabe is fine.”

  “Happy to do it for you, Mr. Baker.” The nurse picked up the phone, pecked the keys that connected her to the dietary department, and asked that a second tray be delivered to Gabe’s room. She looked over his shoulder and, smiling, said, “Dr. White! Have you been back long?”

  “Only a few minutes.”

  Emily was wearing jeans and a pale pink shirt that matched her tiny sneakers. Phillip thought she looked gorgeous with her hair pulled back in a girlish ponytail. But who was he kidding? He thought she looked gorgeous when her hair fell across her slender shoulders, when she braided it, when she twisted it into a bun atop her head. If she wore a long, plain dress and apron and a cap on her head . . .

  Phillip shook his head. “We can get you a tray,” he told her, “and you can join us for lunch.”

  When she smiled up at him that way, it was all Phillip could do not to kiss her.

  “The family got together for brunch, but I wasn’t all that hungry. I need to check on Gabe, anyway, so . . .”

  “Couple of questions I’d like to ask you first, in private, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. Of course. Let’s see if the family waiting area is available.”

  “If it isn’t,” the nurse said with a wink, “feel free to use the nurses’ lounge.”

  They thanked her and hurried to the end of the hall.

  “Empty,” he said, “thank God.”

  “You wanted to ask—”

  “How was the visit with your family?”

  Phillip wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close. And she didn’t fight it. In a minute, he intended to kiss her, but first things first. “Everyone healthy? Happy to see you?”

  “Too happy, you might say. They’re all on a mission to get Pete and me to transfer back to Baltimore.”

  Fear thudded in his heart. “Wait. Permanently? But . . . but you can’t!”

  Emily blinked up at him, as if to say, Why can’t I?
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  “Your patients would miss you. Gabe, for one.” And so would I!

  “A move like that would take months of planning. I’d need to find a job. A place to live. Get the utilities turned off here, and turned on there. Fill out change of address forms for magazine subscriptions. Packing everything up. Arranging for a moving van. Stuff like that takes time.”

  “Then I advise against it. With your work schedule, time is one thing you don’t have. At least, not in excess.”

  She tidied his collar, then smoothed his shirt’s button flap with a wifely pat-pat-pat. “I’ll definitely give your opinion serious consideration.”

  “What I think means that much to you, does it?”

  Emily pursed her lips, fully prepared to answer his question. He silenced her with a kiss. A long, delicious, pulse-pounding kiss. And when it ended, he said, “Sorry to just spring that on you. I couldn’t help myself. I realize we have a lot to talk about before . . .”

  “Yes, yes we do.”

  Smiling prettily, she lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. When Emily blushed, she woke his desire to kiss her again.

  And so he did.

  “Keep that up,” she said breathily, “and people will think you like me or something!”

  Like you? Phillip almost laughed out loud. Emily White, I love you!

  “So that’s it? You just called me in here to”—she licked her lips—“to let me know that you missed me?”

  “How’s Gabe?” He already knew the answer to that, thanks to the nurse who’d explained every lab test result.

  “I haven’t checked his latest vitals, but I’m sure he’s doing fine. Because . . .”

  Because Alex is good at what he does?

  “. . . because he’s a little fighter. And fighters almost always do well.”

  Almost? Phillip didn’t think he wanted her to clarify that.

  She grasped his hand, gave it a quick squeeze, then turned him loose.

  “Let’s go see for ourselves.” She led the way to Gabe’s room.

  “Get everything, ah, worked out?” the nurse asked as she and Phillip passed by.

  “For the most part, yes,” Emily said. “Has lunch been delivered yet?”