by Diane Moody
I have to admit, I’m one of those who was always intrigued by the supposed misspelling of Elvis’s middle name on his grave plaque. Over the years, all kinds of explanations have been offered for what could be the world’s worst typo. To this day the plaque reads Elvis Aaron Presley, though every Elvis fan knows his middle name was spelled Aron on his birth certificate—a name significant if you look just across the garden at the memorial plaque for Elvis’s stillborn twin, Jesse Garon Presley. Then, again, maybe Vernon just misspelled it the day Elvis was born. That same original document lists his first name as “Evis.” Which should tell us that spelling wasn’t a high priority in the Presley household.
I’m not sure why, but it took me a long time to get over the death of Elvis. Tucker was strangely silent when I tried to ask him about what all happened in that ER Trauma Room and all the other strange facts surrounding his death. I assumed it had more to do with professional ethics than anything else.
But time heals all wounds, and eventually it healed mine. Life got back to normal—well, the “new” normal, I suppose. Our office finally closed at Baptist, though I still found myself mourning over that loss too. True to her word, Mrs. Baker treated all of us to an unforgettable dinner at Top of the 100. It gave us some sense of closure and a chance to say goodbye. The girls and I had pitched in to buy a crystal vase for Mrs. B with all our names etched on it. She seemed genuinely touched by our gift.
Jimmy began his recovery, getting a little stronger every day. When his injuries were well enough, he began going through rehabilitation at a highly respected local retreat center for those needing help to overcome addiction. I was so proud of him the day he graduated, clean and restored.
As for me? I had a wedding to plan!
In four short months, Tucker and I were married in a small service in the chapel at First Baptist on New Year’s Eve. Tucker surprised me during the ceremony (a dangerous thing to attempt where brides are involved) by including an acoustic rendition of Elvis’s Hawaiian Wedding Song, sung by none other than Trevor Knight. It was such a sweet and unexpected gesture of love—and a not-so-subtle hint about the secret honeymoon he’d planned for us. We left the next day for two weeks in Hawaii and had the time of our lives. All too soon it was time to come back home to Memphis where we began our lives together as Dr. and Mrs. Tucker Thompson.
That’s Mrs. Moonpie Thompson to you.
Chapter 42
Present Day
I leaned back, suddenly weary from sharing my long story. Darkness shone through the windows. How was that possible? We’d chatted all through lunch earlier in the day—a nice chicken salad and fresh fruit plate which I served out on my back porch. When dinner rolled around, my guest seemed delighted when I made Belgian waffles served with heated maple syrup chocked full of pecans. I lost count on how many cups of coffee we’d both enjoyed.
I looked over and noticed my new friend Chip was comfortably molded into my easy chair, a serene smile on his face. He’d started out with a Q&A about my memories as a hostess at Baptist hoping to mine some helpful ideas for a similar program at the hospital where he worked in California. But after our long day’s visit, I felt like we’d taken a trip back in time together.
He sat up in his chair, dropping his notebook and pen on the coffee table. “Do you have any idea how compelling your story is? And beautifully told, I might add. I feel as though I’ve been watching a movie of your life. I feel like I actually know these people you’ve been talking about. You tell a great story, Mrs. Thompson. I can’t begin to thank you enough.”
“You’re most welcome, Chip. And I hope somewhere in all of this, you can find some ideas for your own hospital.”
He paused then raised a finger. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind telling me the rest of the story? What’s happened in the years since you left Baptist?”
“I’d be happy to tell you. Let me think a moment. Oh—you might be interested to know that Donnie survived his transplant. In fact, he was even able to come to our wedding. When we found out he would be able to come, Tucker graciously invited him to be one of our groomsmen. It was such a delight to see him looking healthy again. I just prayed he wouldn’t pull any of his crazy pranks while we were standing there at the altar. And thankfully, he didn’t. Cried like a baby through the whole ceremony.” I chuckled at the memory of it.
“Unfortunately, as with most of the heart transplant patients in those days, Donnie’s recovery was short lived. He lived for two more years before passing away. But those were two of the happiest years of his life. Before his health began to deteriorate, he fell in love and married a wonderful girl who just adored him. Bethany and I remain good friends to this day. But I still miss him so much.
“Jimmy was there at our wedding too, serving as Tuck’s best man. He truly cleaned up his act and has lived a wonderful life. He’s married with four kids, if you can believe it. Serves as a deacon in his church down in Birmingham. When Dad retired about 20 years ago, Jimmy took over the dealership. Folks call him ‘Cadillac Jim’ and it still cracks me up. But the real hoot is that when Dad retired, he bought himself a red Ferrari!”
My guest laughed out loud with me. If only he knew my dad.
“Tucker enjoyed many good years as an anesthesiologist here in the Memphis area. In fact, he set up a practice and brought in five others. They were all quite successful, and I’m happy to say, all five were very involved in their churches and local charities and a good many mission projects. Every year they hosted an event called ‘The Gas Blast,’ a big ‘40s-style swing dance to raise money for medical projects in third world countries. We always had such a good time working on those together.
“But Tucker was diagnosed with cancer a few years back, and I lost him just 18 months ago. I miss him terribly. Not a day goes by that I don’t catch myself asking him a question or telling him about something clever I heard on TV. Can you imagine? After all these months? I suppose I’ll eventually stop doing it, but I hope not. It helps me feel his presence here with me.”
“Did you and Dr. Thompson have children?” Chip asked.
“Yes, we have two kids. Dana is married to a recording engineer in Nashville. They have two little angels, Lizzie and Missy. I get to see them a lot since we’re not that far apart. Then our son Josh just started his internship in Dallas. He plans to specialize in sports medicine.”
“Ah, another doctor in the family.”
“Tucker would’ve been so proud. Oh, and you might like to know Sandra and Trevor married six months after our wedding. When our program closed down at the hospital, Sandra went to med school. They’re now medical missionaries in Africa—with six children, if you can imagine! But they have a precious family, and they’re doing some amazing things over there.”
“That’s incredible.”
I smiled. “I think the hostess program opened our eyes to all kinds of possible career paths. After my kids were in school, I enrolled at MSU for my master’s degree in counseling. After my experience with Donnie and so many other of my patients, I realized how important it was for people with serious health problems to be able to talk through their concerns and fears and questions with someone. Doctors and nurses don’t have that kind of time. Or training, for that matter. I was able to go back on staff at Baptist, counseling full time. I did that for more than 20 years and loved every minute of it.”
“So you went full circle, returning to Baptist,” he said.
“Well, yes and no. I worked for Baptist Memorial Hospital, but at its new location out east of town. As we discussed earlier, the original building, located in the midtown medical area, was closed down and leveled many years ago.”
“That’s such a shame. I would love to have taken a tour of it with you.”
“I would have loved to have given you that tour,” I said, meaning it.
He capped his pen, closed his notebook, and put away his mini-recorder. “Mrs. Thompson, this has been such a treat for me. I must admit, I cam
e here on an assignment to learn some facts. But I’m leaving with much, much more. You’ve given me so much to think about.”
“Chip . . .” I hesitated.
“Yes?”
I mulled it over in my mind, wondering if I should tell him. But something deep inside kept nudging me to do it. I looked him straight in the eye, motioning him to sit back down. “There is one more thing.”
He slowly sat down. “Please, go on.”
I smiled at him, still not sure if I should. Tucker wouldn’t be pleased. But as I reminded myself daily, Tucker’s no longer here. At least not in the physical sense.
“I’d like to tell you about our anniversary.”
I’m not sure what he expected me to say, but this certainly wasn’t it. His eyebrows shot up. “Your anniversary?”
“Yes.”
He waited, those brows locked in place about halfway up his forehead.
“I fell in love with the islands of Hawaii when Tucker and I spent our honeymoon there. So I was thrilled when he suggested we return there for our tenth anniversary. Though, this time around, we stayed in a quaint village on Maui. Very secluded and off the beaten path, but with all the spectacular ocean vistas and lush majestic mountains. We stayed in a condo right on the beach, and I told Tuck I could stay there with him the rest of my life and die a happy woman.
“We’d been there about a week when . . .” I paused again, still hesitant.
“When what?” I noticed he was sitting on the edge of his seat.
“When we happened on a small beachside restaurant right up the road. It was open air, with live entertainment, and some of the best island food we’d ever eaten. We’d paid no attention to the sign by the door which listed the entertainer for the evening, so we were surprised when a performer who called himself ‘Elvis’ came on stage. Tucker and I laughed ourselves silly over it. Considering our own particular ‘history’ with the King? Then to come here ten years later, in this completely out of the way hole in the wall in Hawaii—to find ‘Elvis’ doing a whole set of his famous songs? What are the chances?
“He definitely had the look—the white studded jumpsuit with pleated bell bottoms, the oversized uniquely-shaped glasses, the jet black hair and long sideburns, and enough gold jewelry to supply an armada. He wasn’t slim, but much thinner than the Elvis we’d seen in all the pictures just days before he died. But the face wasn’t quite right and while he tried to mimic that famous voice, he missed it. At one point I leaned over and whispered to Tuck, ‘Elvis would roll over in his grave to see this guy. Doesn’t look anything like him! Besides, he does a lousy Elvis voice. How embarrassing!’
“We actually got quite tickled, biting our lips to stop the laughter, and not succeeding most of the time. Whenever a snicker or snort would slip, the singer would look our way, smile a corny Elvis-style smile and keep going. Apparently our response was merely egging him on. It was such a small audience, he started looking our way more and more, winking at me—the whole shtick. Which, of course, only made us laugh harder.
“Toward the end of his set he said, ‘I’d like to dedicate my last song to this pretty little lady right over here.’ I thought, oh no, no, noooo! But sure enough, he came off the stage, walked right up to me, and took my hand in his. ‘What’s your name, lil’ darlin’?’ he said.
“I shot a look at Tucker who was all but rolling on the floor by then. I looked back at ‘Elvis’ and said, ‘Shelby. My name is Shelby.’
“‘And what are you doing here on our lovely island, Miss Shelby?’
“‘I’m here celebrating my tenth anniversary with my husband.’
“‘Well, now! Ain’t that a thrill? And who’s this lucky man?’ he said, facing Tucker.
“‘This is my husband, Tucker,’ I said, wishing this would all be over.
“He took hold of Tucker’s hand, shook it, then asked, ‘Mind if I sing a love song to your lil’ missus?’
“Tuck held up both hands and said, ‘She’s all yours, Elvis.’ The crowd loved it.
“Then he dropped to one knee and started singing those famous lyrics to I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You. He had all the right moves, but his version was nowhere close to the original Elvis rendition of the song. But it was so corny and absurd, I finally just decided to give in and play along. When the song ended, he kissed my hand and draped his white scarf around my neck, then said, ‘Aloha, Shelby.’
“The audience—all 20 or 30 of them—went wild. He made his way back up on stage as the background music ramped up. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for coming out tonight. I’ll be here all week! Aloha!’
“When it was finally over, we eventually stopped laughing long enough to order dessert and coffee, hoping to stay a few more minutes just to enjoy the ocean breeze and chat a little. The waitress brought us our pie—along with a note from ‘Elvis’ asking us to stop by his dressing room before we left. I mean, he even signed it EP. Which only sent us into another round of uncontrollable giggles.”
Chip laughed, clearly enjoying my story. “Tell me you’re making this up! Oh, what I would give to have been there and see this all play out. Oh my goodness, how on earth did you keep a straight face?”
“Well, it took us a while to regain our composure, but we finally did and decided to accept his invitation. The waitress showed us back to this tiny, cluttered closet of a dressing room where Mr. Elvis greeted us warmly.
“‘Come in! Come in! I’m so glad you decided to stop by.’ He stuck out his hand, shaking Tucker’s hand then mine. ‘Elvis Presley. It’s nice to see you again!’
“Chip, he had this ridiculous smile on his face and a part of me began to wonder if the guy was perhaps delusional, thinking he really was Elvis. I moved closer to Tucker, grabbing his hand.
“‘Okay, then,” Tucker said, ‘Elvis it is. Mr. Presley, we really enjoyed your show tonight. We, uh, . . . we enjoyed hearing all those old songs again.’
“He struck the infamous Elvis pose, continuing the façade. ‘Why, thank you. Thank you very much.’
“Naturally he’d use the famous ‘thank you’ lines, same as he’d used after every smattering of applause during the show. He obviously thought he was genuinely funny.
“For a moment we just stood there, the three of us staring at each other with plastered smiles on our faces, though his seemed more real . . . well, more Elvis real.
“‘Oh, I beg your pardon. Please, have a seat’ he said. He moved a bunch of costumes and scarves and makeup totes off a couple of rickety chairs and offered them to us. We sat down wondering what in the world we’d gotten ourselves into. He kept staring at me to the point I was growing extremely uncomfortable.
“‘Shelby, it’s been a long time.’ By the way he said it, I had the impression he wasn’t talking about our little scene that just took place during the show. I was totally confused. I looked at him. He smiled at me. I looked at Tucker, whose face reflected the worry in mine. Was this some kind of joke?
“‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What did you say?’
“‘Oh, come now, Shelby, it hasn’t been that long. Don’t you remember our visit that night in the prayer room when ol’ Tommy Love was on his deathbed?’
“‘Wha . . . wha . . .’ I wheezed, only this time there wasn’t a trace of laughter in it. Or oxygen, for that matter. By that point, I should tell you, the room began to spin and I was quite sure I would be sick. He looked over his glasses and gave me a wink. Just like he’d done at Dr. Love’s funeral.
And just as he did then, as he reached for those glasses, the turquoise and silver watch peeked out from beneath his cuff.
“I stared at him a split-second more then promptly threw up all over those white bell bottoms. And his blue suede shoes.
“I kept telling myself to take a deep breath, get a hold of myself and calm down. Tucker tried to help me, taking the scarf off my neck to help me clean myself up. ‘Elvis’ took off and came back with a damp cloth.
“‘He
re you go, let me help you—’
“I slapped his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me! Who ARE you? And why are you doing this? How do you know—’
“‘Okay, now, let’s just get you back in that chair,’ he said, motioning for Tucker to help me sit back down.
“Tucker said, ‘Look, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but you need to cut the act. It was fun while it lasted, but can you just drop the façade and explain how you know what you just said?’
“‘Sure, sure,’ he said, busying himself as he wiped the remains of my mahi-mahi off his bell bottoms. I wanted to apologize for it but couldn’t find a breath in me. Finally he took a seat in his director’s chair.
“He said, ‘Well, I could’ve spent half an hour trying to convince you who I was, but you wouldn’t have believed me. So I figured I’d just cut to the chase.’ He looked down at Tucker. ‘See, one night I snuck into the hospital to visit my good friend Tommy Love. And after they let me see him, I just wanted to be alone and pray. So I went to the prayer room on that floor and slipped onto the back row.’
“Chip, I have to tell you—as he talked, I kept thinking over and over to myself—this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. What did they put in our drinks out there? Who could have told him about that night? Who’s playing this elaborate joke on us and why?
“But it just got worse. He went on and on, spilling out every detail of that night, including the name of the hymn he sang, and the fact he gave me his handkerchief to dry my tears. By then, I was no longer sick, but pretty sure I would pass out.
“That’s when Tucker jumped in again. ‘Nice try, buddy. But what you don’t know—I was in the ER the day Elvis died. I’m a doctor. And I saw his dead blue body. So why don’t you give it up and tell us who put you up to this? Was it Trevor? Or Shelby’s brother, Jimmy?’