All He'll Ever Need

by Loree Lough

  Phillip turned in a slow circle and took her with him. “Looks like a flower shop in here. Smells like one, too. And you know? Every petal could represent a moment in Pete’s life. A moment when he did or said something that touched another person’s life.”

  “If I believed in reincarnation, I’d say you’re Hemingway, come back to life.”

  Phillip pointed. “Is that your dad?”

  She followed his gaze to where her father stood, shaking hands, smiling, doing his best to console the friends and coworkers who were there, supposedly to comfort him. Emily took Phillip’s hand, led him across the plush, flowery carpet.

  “Dad, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Dutton White, this is Phillip Baker. Phillip, this is my dad.”

  Dutton held out his hand. “Ah, the father of the little boy Emily sent to Hopkins.”

  Phillip returned the greeting. “Yes. Gabe. And thanks to your daughter, he’s doing fine.”

  “Good, good. Glad to hear it.”

  “Where are you and the rest of the family staying while you’re in town?”

  “Emily’s place. It’s like we’ve gone back in time . . . three or four kids to a room, shoulder to shoulder seats at the table, always empty milk and juice jugs . . .” A quiet sigh escaped his lungs. “Pete would have loved it.”

  “Until bedtime,” Emily said.

  Dutton laughed. “Oh man, you’re right! I’d almost forgotten how grumpy he could get if anyone interrupted his sleep.”

  “Miranda,” Dutton said, “have you met Phillip?”

  Emily’s sister stood between her and Phillip and, placing a hand on his arm, said, “No, but we all heard about you. A lot about you.”

  “Yeah. If your ears have been ringing lately,” Joe said, “blame Pete. He went on and on and on about you.”

  “Uh-oh. Hope he didn’t let any cats out of the bag.”

  Miranda’s husband and Joe’s wife joined them, and they all shared “Pete told me this” and “Pete told me that” stories he’d shared about Phillip. And about Gabe. And Clinger the cat.

  “How’s that li’l ruffian doing?” Joe asked. “Last time we FaceTimed with Pete, the crazy thing had climbed up the curtains and perched on top of the rod.” The memory brought a tear to Joe’s eye, and he dried it on the back of his hand.

  “She’s fine,” Emily said. “But she misses Pete.”

  “How can you tell?” Miranda wanted to know.

  “Because she walks around, sniffing everything, meowing, as if she expects Pete to show up and scratch under her chin.”

  “But . . . they were only together for, what, a couple of days?” Dutton pointed out.

  “True,” Phillip said. “But once in a while, good things happen fast. Real fast.”

  The family thanked him for coming, then one by one meandered through the room, talking with visitors, admiring flower arrangements and reading the cards attached, and reminding folks to sign the guest book.

  “I haven’t seen Sarah or Gabe in a while, have you?”

  “They’re downstairs, in the lounge. My mother believes Gabe needs to spend as much time off his feet as possible. So they’re down there, sipping lemonade and eating stale cookies. Which, might I add, she insisted on bringing with her.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad they decided to come with you.”

  “Gabe thought the world of Pete. He would have pestered me nonstop if I’d left him home.”

  “You don’t think it’ll upset him, seeing Pete this way?” She glanced at the gleaming mahogany coffin, where a three-foot cross made of black-eyed Susans—the only flower Pete knew by name—leaned on an aluminum easel.

  “I know it sounds a little crazy, but Amish kids are exposed to death at a very young age. This isn’t the first time Gabe has attended a funeral, although, it’s the first time seeing someone he cared about.”

  “It’s his first outing since his surgery, too. He hasn’t admitted it—not to me, anyway—but I think he was afraid he might not make it.”

  Guilt darkened his eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that. I can be a real idiot sometimes.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Phillip. He’s here, right downstairs. Doing great, and getting better by the hour. And I know you well enough to say that’s how he’ll stay, if you have anything to say about it.”

  “You’re something else, you know that? Here you are, comforting me at your brother’s viewing.”

  “At times like these, it’s good to shift your focus.”

  “Well, take it from me. Don’t go near Pete right now. Not until everyone but immediate family has left.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s when you’ll hear thoughtless, hurtful things, things said with all good intentions . . . things that will sting when you think of them, even years from now.”

  He’d lost several close relatives, so if anyone ought to know about a thing like that, it would be Phillip.

  “Things like what?”

  He tapped the tip of her nose. “If I tell you, that’ll make me one of those well-meaning but thoughtless, hurtful people, now wouldn’t it? Years from now, I don’t want one of those stupid things to come to mind.”

  Years from now . . . as if he believes we could actually build a life together ...

  The family decided to meet for supper at Tominetti’s, Pete’s favorite restaurant. They asked for his favorite pizza toppings in his honor: spinach, goat cheese, and banana peppers on a bed of extra sauce. When the waitress heard the order, she asked why he wasn’t with them.

  “There was an accident,” Joe said. “Pete . . . I’m afraid Pete didn’t make it.”

  “Oh no, I’m so sorry.” Bea dropped a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You two have been coming in here for, like, ever. You guys got along so great, like best friends. It made me jealous, ’cause my brother an’ me can’t spend five minutes together without finding something to bicker about.” Tucking the pencil behind her ear, she said, “When did it happen?”

  “Few days ago,” Joe said.

  Bea dropped the order pad into her apron pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

  Minutes later, when she returned with their drinks, she said, “Tonight’s on the house. Boss’s orders. Said Pete could always make him laugh.”

  “Be sure to thank him for us.” Emily couldn’t imagine coming here ever again. Even good memories wouldn’t be easy from now on.

  They went through the motions, doing their best to keep the conversation light as the food disappeared. But despite their best efforts, the family couldn’t hide their grief. Now and then, tears choked off a “Pete story.”

  Back at the house, it took hours to get everyone settled down for the night, but after making sure they were comfortable in their makeshift beds, Emily carried a mug of herbal tea and a fuzzy lap robe onto the back deck. After lighting a citronella candle, she dropped onto the padded seat of a wood glider and stared out into the yard. Moonlight shone from dewdrops that clung to every blade of grass and the midsummer breeze rustled the maple leaves. Cricket chirps harmonized with cicada songs, and somewhere close by, an owl hooted. A week or so ago, she’d seen a fox scamper alongside the back fence, and the week before that, her neighbor had warned her to “keep an eye peeled,” because he’d spotted a trio of coyotes trotting across the road. Just last week, Pete had told her how lucky she was, living in a virtual wildlife habitat.

  The French doors squealed quietly, telling her that one of her houseguests was up. Emily turned toward the familiar sound and smiled. She couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather share her quiet time with than her dad.

  “Sorry you got stuck with that lumpy sofa bed, Dad.”

  He joined her on the glider. “Aw, it isn’t so bad. But to be honest, the mattress isn’t the reason I can’t sleep.”

  Miranda had always been daddy’s little girl, and because Joe’s engineering degree gave him the skills to work for Dutton’s company, he and their dad quickly became more closer, even, than
father and son. Pete, the always playful adventure seeker who’d dropped out of college to become a paramedic, never had much in common with Dutton. Emily and Pete talked often about that disconnect, and how she’d felt it, too. Once, she admitted that the gap was the very thing that connected her to Pete, and Pete to her. And he’d responded with “Two lovable mutts on the same leash.”

  “I miss him, too, Dad.”

  “That li’l waitress was right. You two always were tight as a drum. Life’s gonna feel different, real different without him.”

  It was going to feel like moving through life wearing a high-heeled shoe . . . on just one foot.

  “He knew your mother loved him. She told him all the time. That, and how proud she was of him. I hope he knew I felt the same way.”

  She reached over, gave his forearm a light squeeze. “He knew. And he loved you, too, Dad.”

  Once, after a family get-together, Pete confessed that he believed their father saw him as a major disappointment, because he’d chosen the fire department over a college education and the family business. She’d cited examples that the opposite was true, but when he and their dad were together, Emily could see that Pete’s opinion had never changed. But their father would never hear the story from her.

  “Tell me, honey, what’s with you and that Baker guy?”

  “He’s nice, isn’t he?”

  “Seems so. But I only talked with him for a few minutes. To judge his true character, I’d need to see how he reacts to hard times, disappointment, if he gets up every time he falls, the way Pete did.”

  His words reminded her of a plaque she’d seen while browsing a craft show: “Say I love you today, because tomorrow isn’t promised.” Another “if only” for the books ...

  “His little boy was the one wearing short pants and suspenders? And the mother wore the long black dress?”

  Despite the beautiful June weather, Sarah had worn a long-sleeved black dress. Its hem nearly touched the toes of what Phillip called “nun shoes,” and the long brim of her hat cast a shadowy veil over her face. At the invitation of Old and New Order patients, Emily had attended several Amish funerals, and it had been her experience that only the deceased’s widow wore traditional head-to-toe Anabaptist mourning garb. If Sarah had hoped to underscore how different the Amish and the English were . . . Point well made, Sarah, she thought.

  “He’s adorable, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm . . . sounds to me like you set the ‘don’t get emotionally attached’ bar pretty low for this case.”

  “Not Phillip,” she said. “I meant Gabe is adorable!”

  “I knew who you were talking about. Question still applies . . .”

  Emily sighed. She’d never developed a talent for evading his questions and saw no reason to give it one last effort tonight. “I tried not to get involved, but . . .”

  “What’s that old movie quote?”

  Emily sent him a sad smile as together, they recited, “‘Do or do not, there is no try.’”

  Pete. That’s who they should be talking about. Not Phillip and Gabe. And certainly not her.

  And yet she said, “Phillip is easy to like.”

  “Aha. So it’s Phillip, is it? Sounds like I was right. You set the bar low when it came to Gabe and his dad.”

  She could recite hospital ethics codes, but why confuse things?

  When it became obvious that Emily didn’t intend to discuss her feelings for Phillip, Dutton got to his feet. “Well, honey, I suppose we should at least try and catch a few z’s. Tomorrow’s gonna be another long, hard day.”

  “Truer words . . .” she said.

  Yesterday, when she’d let herself into Pete’s condo to retrieve Clinger, Emily couldn’t help but notice his will, spread out on the coffee table. The handwritten note beside it began, “Hey, Family. My job can be dangerous, so I decided to act like a grownup . . .” He’d spelled everything out, from which suit to bury him in to the Scriptures and songs for the service. Ironically, he’d signed it just four days before the accident. She’d followed every instruction to the letter . . . the funeral home and cemetery, even the restaurant that would spare the family the trouble of preparing what he’d called the “Relax, the worst is behind you meal.” Tomorrow would not put the worst behind them. That would come every time she heard a song or watched a movie he’d loved, each time she saw an emergency vehicle speeding down a highway.

  “Think I’ll stay out here for a few minutes more.” She got up, too, and walked with him to the door. “At least it isn’t supposed to rain tomorrow. Pete would have hated being the reason people got wet.”

  “Truer words . . .”

  When Dutton hugged her, Emily felt his tears on her own cheek. And as he disappeared into the darkened house, a quote from another craft shop plaque came to mind: “In the end, we only regret the things we left unsaid.”

  Any uncertainties revolving around her relationship with Phillip dissolved instantly. Emily knew what she had to do.

  And tomorrow, she’d do it.

  * * *

  Emily looked around at the thirty or so people seated in the restaurant’s small banquet room and admitted that Pete had been right about everything, even the “worst is behind you” line from his note. The tears had ended, and in their place, the smiles and laughter summoned by “That Pete was something!” stories. And it did her heart good to hear that every man aboard the ambulance that crashed into Pete’s car had been labeled stable.

  “Emily? Are you holding up all right?”

  She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Turning, she said, “I’m surprised to see you, Alex.”

  “Surprised? But why? We still have friends in common. And when I heard . . . well, knowing how close you and Pete were, I had to come.”

  No, he didn’t have to, and she wished he hadn’t. “Your flowers were lovely. Even my dad commented on them.” “Leave it to Alex to send the biggest arrangement known to man,” Dutton had said. “The only thing bigger,” Miranda agreed, “is his ego.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

  She wanted to shout, Relax. Not one person said, “Where’s Alex?” Instead, she watched as two of Pete’s firefighter pals hugged Dutton and quietly said, “Pete would have loved this get-together.”

  Alex took a step to the left, blocking her view of them. “Take a ride with me.”

  Emily met his eyes. “What? Now? You’re kidding, right?”

  “I have something to tell you. To ask you, to be more precise. And I need to get back to Baltimore tonight. Surgery tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know, Alex. There’s so much to do. And the family is heading back to Baltimore today, too, so . . .”

  “Surely they can spare you for a few minutes.”

  Of course they could. But that wasn’t the point. Who did he think he was, waltzing in here at the eleventh hour, trying to make her feel guilty for doing the right thing?

  “You know me, Emily. I don’t give up easily.”

  Memory of the flood of texts, e-mails, and voice mail messages he’d left after the breakup proved it. If she gave him five minutes now, she could spare herself hours of nuisance calls later.

  “Let me tell the family that I’m stepping out for a couple of minutes.”

  “There’s m’girl!”

  First chance she got, Emily intended to find just the right phrase to let him know she was not his girl . . . and wipe that self-satisfied smirk from his face.

  Minutes later, they stood on the restaurant’s back deck, overlooking Deep Creek Lake. Forecasters had predicted rain this evening, but from the look of the looming steel-gray clouds, it would arrive earlier than expected.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asked him.

  “You look marvelous. Even on a day like this, with your eyes all puffy from crying, you’re a knockout.”

  Always the charmer, eh, Alex? Even on the day of my brother’s funeral? “I told the family I’d only be gone for a minute or two.�
�

  “Sit with me,” he said, pointing to a table near the deck rail.

  “I’m fine right here.” If he didn’t get to the point soon, she’d leave him out here, alone.

  “I miss you, Emily.”

  Even after all this time? Wow, I must have been some catch!

  “I was an idiot.”

  Was?

  “Never should have let you get away.”

  “What kind of surgery?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “What kind of . . .” He chuckled. “Oh. Tomorrow. Bypass. Why? You want to assist? We made a great team, working on your friend’s kid.”

  His skills in the OR were unparalleled; few people could argue with that. Knowing what needed to be done and issuing the orders that would make it happen were just two of his well-honed skills.

  She looked at her wrist, tapped an imaginary watch face. “Tick-tick-tick . . .”

  “Good gravy, Em, I know this is a tough day for you, but have a heart. I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry. That ending things was a mistake. That I want you back.”

  Emily could remind him who’d ended things. Could remind him why and admit that if she hadn’t thrown herself into work, his persistence would likely have paid off: They’d still be a couple . . . and she’d still be miserable.

  “Sorry,” she said, “but in my opinion, traveling back in time only succeeds in sci-fi movies.”

  “Aw, kid, you’re breakin’ my heart.”

  She didn’t believe it. Not for a minute.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “As long as you’re in town, why don’t you pay Gabe a visit. You know . . . my friend’s kid? The one you operated on? I know he’d love to see you, and I’m sure his dad and grandmother would appreciate hearing the great Dr. Alex Williams say that Gabe is doing fine.”

  “Is he here?”

  “He’s four, Alex, and only came home from Hopkins a few days ago. Why would he be here?”

  “I just thought . . . It seemed that . . .” He shook his head. “Sure. Okay. I’ll check in with the kid . . . with Gabe, I mean. On one condition.”

  Oh, how like him to attach a stipulation. “Which is . . . ?”