by Diane Moody
“So? It’ll be fun. C’mon, you know you wanna go.”
“I do?”
“Sure you do. What’s not to love? The fresh outdoors. A lake to swim in. Sleeping under the stars—”
“And about a hundred singles.”
“Well, there’s that. Though we’ve never had that many go. Usually only about 30 or 40. But they all know we’re dating now, so I don’t expect the Killer Bs to hit on you or anything. Besides, they’re afraid of me.”
“They are?”
“Yeah. Last week I told them you weren’t available and to stop trying to get your number. I put on this whole tough guy thing. They were shaking in their boots by the time I was done.”
“Why do I think you’re lying?”
“Okay, well, maybe they weren’t exactly shaking in their boots. It was more of a little wobble.”
“Tucker?”
“Yeah?”
“Leave those poor guys alone, okay? They’ve got enough problems.”
“So you should invite Sandra to come. They love Sandra. In spite of her Pedro stories.”
“They know about Pedro?”
“You mean, do they know Pedro’s a bird?”
“Tucker! You told them?”
“No! I didn’t say a word! They just don’t think this Pedro guy is anything to worry about. I heard them say something about seeing if the mice will play while the cat’s away, or something like that.”
“Please—we don’t ‘do’ mice anymore. Remember?”
“Just say you’ll go,” he asked again, nuzzling my neck knowing full well how ticklish I was in that particular spot.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll go. Now stop that!” I pushed him gently.
Just then, another raucous round of laughter spilled from the front porch. We watched as Trevor and Sandra giggled like a couple of school kids.
“I don’t guess Trevor’s planning to go on the campout, is he?”
“He’s thinking about it. Why do you ask?”
“Nothing. I’m just thinking Sandra could use some fresh air, a lake to swim in, maybe a good night’s sleep under the stars . . .”
Chapter 27
The following Monday afternoon we had our first Bible study with Chaplain Perkins. Goodness, that man was boring. How anyone could make scripture that dull was beyond me. He was a nice enough guy, but teaching was definitely not one of his spiritual gifts. I fought to stay awake and noticed I wasn’t the only one. But with Mrs. Baker sitting in our midst, we weren’t about to risk nodding off. When it was finally over, I wanted nothing more than to get upstairs and visit my patients. Especially Donnie.
I was worried about my dear friend. He’d been a guest on Nine for four weeks. The flowers sent by colleagues and friends had all withered and died. Visits from co-workers at Holiday Inn’s corporate offices had begun to taper off. Rachel stopped by as often as she could, but it was hard on her, especially since he refused her prayers as well as mine. I’d taped all his get well cards on the wall across from his bed. Quite a collection, but also a sad reminder he’d been here much too long.
His recent surgery hadn’t helped as much as they’d hoped. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d undergone more tests and been examined by several more doctors, including the heart specialist from Vanderbilt. They were trying to decide if he would be able to withstand the extreme risks involved with a transplant. If he had any chance at all, he would have to be transferred to Columbia University Medical Center in New York—but only when and if a heart became available that was compatible to his blood type. Columbia was one of the only hospitals in the country performing organ transplants. And while heart transplants had improved greatly since the early days of Dr. Christaan Barnard in South Africa, they were still extremely rare and survival statistics were still not optimal.
But as Donnie said, what choice did he have?
I’d prayed constantly for him, but mostly I was worried sick.
“Hey buddy, how’s it going today?”
Donnie looked up from a book he was reading. “Hey, Shelby.”
He was so pale, almost ashen. And he looked more than a little frail. “How about a stroll down to the coffee shop? My treat.”
“No, but thanks.”
“C’mon, Donnie. You need to get out of here. Please?”
“Whining doth not become thee, fair maiden.”
“And slothfulness doth not become thee, kind sir.”
“I hate when you mock me.”
“So humor me. I’ll go get you some wheels. Make yourself decent and for heaven’s sake, do not go commando this time.”
“Never. I’m sporting my Charlie’s Angels boxers. Wanna see?” He threw back his covers.
I covered my eyes. “No! You keep Farrah and the girls to yourself, thank you very much. Now get out of that bed. I’ll be right back.”
“Witch.”
“Jerk.”
“Cretin.”
“Crybaby.”
If he added another term of endearment, I didn’t hear it. A couple minutes later I returned with a wheelchair. He’d wrapped his robe around himself and combed his hair. I helped him into the chair and off we went. I took him on a brief tour of the hospital first, using my best flight-attendant tone as I pointed out the various wings and points of interest.
“Here you see the world-renowned Baptist Memorial Hospital gift shop, featuring hymnals, Bibles, and communion wafers at special discounts for our Southern Baptist patients. Identification required, of course.”
“What, I’ve gotta show my circumcision scars to get a wafer?”
“Shhh! Donnie!”
“Just asking.”
“Well, stop asking and just observe.”
He waved me closer. “Shelby, look.”
“What?”
“Over there by the magazines. That’s Ginger Alden, Elvis’s girlfriend.”
I peeked around a tall potted ficus tree and got a glimpse of the former beauty queen and the King’s current girlfriend.
“Donnie, you know what that means!” I whispered urgently as I wheeled his chair around to go the opposite direction.
“Ginger likes communion wafers?”
“No, silly, Elvis is in the building!”
“Which explains why you’re about to give me a whiplash, speeding down the hall.”
I rounded the corner, hoping not to tip him over as I headed for the back elevators.
“Shelby! What on earth are you doing? Slow down!”
“I will, I promise.” We rounded one more corner then I yanked Donnie’s wheelchair to a stop, almost dumping him out of it. “Oh, sorry!”
He braced himself, palming his hand against the wall as I pressed the up button on the elevator. “Where are you taking me?”
“Shhhh! I’m not supposed to take you on these elevators, but it’s the only way.”
The elevator chimed then opened. Thankfully, no one was inside. I whipped his chair around and pulled him inside then pounded number 16 on the panel list of floors.
“That’s not my floor. What are you doing? And what about the coffee you promised me?”
I tried to catch my breath, leaning hard against the shiny silver elevator wall.
“Elvis is here! We’re gonna ride up and see if we can sneak by for a peek!”
“Are you out of your mind? They’re not going to let us just stroll by up there.”
“Sure they will. Aren’t you forgetting? I work here. I’m in uniform. They’ll think I’m just taking one of my patients back to his room.”
“Except that it’s not my floor, and might I remind you, it’s not your floor either. Won’t the staff be a little suspicious?”
“I’ll think of something. Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut.”
When the doors on Sixteen opened, I took a deep breath and slowly pushed Donnie’s chair as if I had all the reason in the world to be on that floor. We took the first corner into the main corridor heading to the Union wing. I noticed no one wa
s at the nurses’ station except the medical records secretary whose focus was on a patient chart. I prayed she wouldn’t look up as we passed. She didn’t.
But just as we turned to go down the long hall toward the suite where I knew Elvis always stayed, Donnie reached back and grabbed my arm.
“Uh oh, looks like we’re busted,” he said out the side of his mouth. “Call me crazy but those guys don’t exactly look like your friendly Baptist orderlies.”
I had to agree. Three guys decked out in black leather jackets stood guard about halfway down the hall. I noticed they all wore a lot of gold and carried a distinct air about them, leaving no doubt in my mind. These guys were part of the famous “Memphis Mafia,” Elvis’s entourage. They briefly glanced up at us then resumed their conversation. I thought if I casually pushed Donnie past them, acting as if he had a room down that hall, they might ignore us and just let us pass.
I was wrong.
“Ma’am?”
I kept moving, pushing Donnie’s chair while nonchalantly looking up at them. “Yes?”
“You’ll need to turn back around. This section of the hall is closed.”
“Oh? I’m sorry. I guess I must have gotten off on the wrong floor. This isn’t Fifteen?”
“No, ma’am. It’s not. You’re on Sixteen.”
I faked a chuckle. “Silly me.” I leaned down toward Donnie. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers. I’ll have you back on Fifteen in a jiffy.” To the Mafia men, “Forgive me. Have a nice day.”
I slowly began to turn around when Donnie started to cough. He was wheezing something terrible, and I suddenly felt foolish for my lame attempt for a glimpse of Elvis when Donnie wasn’t up to it.
“You okay?” I asked, kneeling beside him.
He coughed again, sounding like he might just cough up a lung. I patted him on his back, thinking surely that would help. That’s when he winked at me.
“Is he okay?” one of the guys in black asked, approaching us.
“I think so. Must have swallowed the wrong way or something. You okay, Mr. Rogers?”
He nodded but kept coughing, waving me off. I’d forgotten what a good actor he was.
“Can I get him something?” the guy asked. “Maybe some water?”
He stood right in front of us now, his Brut cologne overpowering us both. I wondered if Elvis bought the stuff by the case.
“No, I think we’ll be fine. But thank you.” I stood back and flipped my hair over my shoulder with as much flair as I dared. “Are you . . . are you visiting someone?” I hoped he didn’t hear the quake in my voice. “I’m one of the hospital hostesses and we’re here to help, so if you, uh . . . need some help or anything, I’d be happy to, uh . . . help.”
“That won’t be necessary. We know our way around, but thank you.” He suddenly looked up and over my shoulder. “Hi, Marian. I was just getting acquainted with your hostess here.” He looked back down at me. “I’m sorry, what was your name?”
Marian Cocke. Had to be. Elvis’s nurse. The girls had told me about her. Something in the back of my mind uttered the term “mama bear.” A shiver ran down my spine.
Time to go.
I quickly grabbed the handles of Donnie’s chair and aimed him back down the hall in the direction we’d come. “Well, then. We’ll just be on our way now.”
She stood like a soldier in the middle of the hall, her arms folded across her chest. “And just where did you think you were going, Miss—” Her eyes lowered to my name tag. “Colter? This section of the floor is off limits.”
“Shelby? What are you doing up here?”
As luck would have it, Sarah Beth arrived just in time to make matters worse. “Oh. Hey, Sarah Beth. I was just giving my patient here a tour of the hospital and we, uh, well, I wasn’t paying attention and we got off on the wrong floor. Apparently. My mistake. We’ll just be going now.”
Sarah Beth folded her arms, making her a matched set with Nurse Cocke. “Does Mrs. Baker know you’re up here?” She tilted her head just so and plastered a sarcastic smile on her lily white face.
“Of course not, Sarah Beth. I told you. I accidently got off on the wrong floor. Now if you’ll excuse us?”
Donnie piped in with a pitiful cough, enough to convince Sarah Beth to move her sass out of the way for us to get by.
As we approached the elevator, I blew out a heavy sigh—along with a silent prayer apologizing for my little white lie.
“Seriously, Shelby, we should do this again sometime,” Donnie said. “I’m told stress is really good for an ill-functioning heart.”
“I’m so sorry, Donnie.”
“Oh, don’t I know it. I intend to hold it over your head but good.”
“I’m your slave.”
“Got that right. Now take me back to my room so I can write in my memoirs how I almost had coffee with my former best friend and almost met Elvis.”
“As you wish.”
“And Shelby?”
“Yes, your grace?”
“I’ll be wanting a pedicure tomorrow so bring your supplies. Mr. Big Toe has a nasty green thing going on under his nail.”
Chapter 28
June came and went as summer got off to a warmer than usual start. We’d all settled in to our new responsibilities in the ER, ICU, and surgical waiting areas. It seemed strange, our schedules all different now, sometimes not seeing each other for days at a time. But Mrs. Baker seemed pleased with our added service to those areas of the hospital, and the feedback from the staff in those departments had been overwhelming.
I’d finally grown comfortable with the idea of being “Tucker’s girl.” In fact, I rather loved it. I was crazy about him. We spent every moment together we could, which wasn’t always easy between his schedule and mine. Still, we found stolen moments together whenever we could.
As the first weekend of July approached, I even began looking forward to the singles camping trip. The 4th actually fell on Monday, but tentative plans were to leave on Friday after work and return after lunch on Sunday.
I was disappointed Rachel wouldn’t be going with us. She was much too close to her due date and couldn’t take the chance of being out in the woods in case little Cooper decided to come early. Even though I’d looked forward to going, I hated to be out of town if she went into labor. I was having second thoughts.
“Tucker, I’ll never forgive myself if I’m not here for Rachel when her baby is born.”
“But Rich has my pager number,” Tucker argued. “The minute we hear anything, off we go. Besides, didn’t you just twist Sandra’s arm to go with us?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with it?”
“Because she’ll bail if you do, and Trevor would be heartbroken.”
“Really?” Suddenly, I found myself interested in going again.
“Okay, maybe heartbroken is a little strong.”
“Tucker.”
“But seriously, he did ask me if she was coming. I think he’s kinda interested.”
“Took him long enough. Hold on—are you making this up just to convince me to go? Because if you are, that’s really lame.”
“No! I’m not making it up. He asked me who all was going, I told him, then he said, and I quote, ‘Is Sandra coming with Shelby?’ See? He’s interested. He wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t.”
Tucker finally persuaded me to go, promising he’d drive me back to Memphis if we got word that Rachel had gone into labor. Rich had lined up plenty of sponsors to help with the two-night trip so he could stay home with his bed-ridden wife.
Around 5:30 on Friday evening, 30 of us loaded our gear, got on the old church bus, and headed to Chickasaw State Park, about two hours east of Memphis. Trevor drove up later along with a few others who didn’t get off work in time. Sandra and I were the only hostesses who made the trip, and I realized that was probably a good thing. A nice break. I still didn’t know most of the girls and guys in the singles group very well, but they seemed like a lot of fun.
/> The day had been extremely warm, but out there in the wilderness the night was beautiful. We unloaded and started setting up camp. The guys built an enormous bonfire to help light our campsite. By the time the tents were up, we were all starving. Rachel had organized a team of girls beforehand to plan the meals, and they outdid themselves. I’m not sure why food always tastes better when you’re out of doors, but everything they served was fantastic.
“Now, aren’t you glad you came?” Tucker snatched a potato chip off my paper plate.
Trevor took a seat on the ground next to Sandra. “You weren’t going to come?”
“Oh, well, I just hated to be away in case Rachel goes into labor.”
“Nice cover,” Tucker whispered in my ear.
Bobby snickered. “Now, none of that, you two love birds. You don’t have to rub our noses in it.”
Very funny. I wanted to deck one Killer B.
“Yeah, Bobby told me your boyfriend there told him to back off since you’re ‘TAKEN.’”
Thank you, Killer B #2.
Tucker kept a straight face, pointing his plastic fork at the two goofballs. “And don’t you forget it.”
Sandra and Trevor snorted out loud at the exchange. He leaned against her shoulder almost knocking her over. I liked how those two were getting along. They made a nice couple.
“Not you too, Dr. Brainiac?” Bobby blurted, pointing at them. “Gosh, is there something in the water at that hospital? Gotta get me some of that!”
He and Burt lost it, laughing themselves silly over that one. Thankfully they turned their attention to some of the new girls in the group, carrying on about some big surprise they had planned.
After we ate, a couple of guys brought out guitars and we had the traditional Kumbaya sing-along. But I had to admit, with the roaring fire and the clear, star-covered sky, it was really fun. Dr. Krause talked for a while about how blessed we all were to live “at such a time as this” and how those blessings aren’t to be taken for granted. He encouraged us to use the gifts God gave each one of us to share those blessings with a lost world. George always made God’s word so up close and personal. He had a unique way of explaining scripture, making you feel like it was written just for you.