“He removed Josh’s appendix before it could rupture; that has to be a good sign.”
“There’s always a silver lining, dear. Josh is otherwise a healthy boy. In a couple of days, no one will know he’s been sick.”
Dr. Wellington strode into the waiting room, a first responder in surgical scrubs. He didn’t seem quite so young anymore. “Call you later, Mom. Dr. Wellington just came in.”
He lowered himself into a chair next to hers and stretched out his legs. “Your son is fine. He’s got a good sense of humor. When I explained the procedure to him, he asked if he would get a new appendix to replace the old one.”
Dorie burst into hard, deep sobs and fell into Dr. Wellington’s sympathetic arms.
“There, there. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She pulled from his embrace and noticed mascara smudges on his scrubs. “Things are not fine. My husband’s dead, and I’ve had to move to this frozen tundra. How could it snow in October?”
He handed Dorie a tissue from the side table.
“I scolded my sick son for behaving badly when all the time he acted up only because he didn’t feel well. I’m a rotten mother.” A salty tear rolled into her mouth.
“I’m sure that’s not true. He’s going to be fine. You’ll even be able to attend rehearsal Monday night.”
She’d forgotten all about the read-through. “How did you know I was in the play?”
“I recognized your name from the cast list Danny Riley gave me. I’m playing George Bailey. I couldn’t make auditions, but Danny knows what I can do. So I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few weeks.”
“Can I see my son?”
“I’ll take you. He’ll be groggy. But don’t worry. That’s normal. Do you want to stay with him tonight?”
Dorie nodded.
“I’ll have an orderly bring in a cot for you.”
“I don’t think I’ll sleep, but thank you.”
“I make my rounds first thing in the morning. Josh should be able to go home by the afternoon.” With that, her angel in scrubs left.
Dorie called her mother, arranged for Emma’s care, then settled into a chair.
***
She’d spent the long night in vigil, watching her son sleep, afraid to close her eyes. The dark morning did nothing to assuage her helplessness. Josh stirred as Dr. Wellington came into the room. Dressed in slacks, shirt, and a white coat, he looked a little older and more the part.
“How’s my patient this morning?”
Dr. Wellington placed the ball of the stethoscope on Joshua’s head.
Josh’s giggles buoyed Dorie’s spirits. “It doesn’t go there, Dr. Wellington.” Josh moved the stethoscope to his chest. “It goes here.”
Dr. Wellington smiled, a hint of a jokester in his crystal blue eyes as he examined Josh. “Ah … that’s better. Thank you, Josh.” Dr. Wellington strapped the stethoscopearound his neck, reopened the curtain, and offered Dorie a wink. “Looks like you’ll be back to riding your bike in no time.”
“Mommy, did I have to have an operation because I was bad?”
Her throat closed. How should she answer him? Maybe she was the one God punished because she’d shown interest in a man other than Devon.
Dr. Wellington answered the question she couldn’t. “Getting sick isn’t a punishment. I suppose once in a while God lets bad things happen to get our attention. Most of the time, though, the body just gets sick. God cares about us when we don’t feel well and wants to help make us better. Do you want me to pray with you?”
Dorie nodded permission in sync with Josh.
“I thank you, Jesus, that you’ve helped me to help Josh. Please comfort and reassure him. Help him heal quickly. Amen.”
“Amen.” Josh’s body relaxed and he drifted toward sleep.
“Thank you for praying with him.”
“I pray for all my patients, but Josh is special. He’s a great kid with a beautiful mother.”
Dorie was grateful the dim light covered her blush.
“I’d say he can go home this afternoon. I’ll write the discharge.” Dr. Wellington leaned against the wall, his posture much less professional than a minute ago. “Listen, I was wondering if I could take you and the kids to dinner—when Josh feels better.”
“Do you take all your patients to dinner, Dr. Wellington?”
“I’d like to make an exception. Danny told me you’ll be doing the publicity. Since you’re new in town, I thought I could help. Maybe give you a few tidbits on the cast.”
His smile hinted a deeper agenda than a mere dinner to take notes on Midville’s thespians.
In the space of two days, two very different had been men and expressed interest in dating her. At this moment, her heart belonged solely to a six-year-old. “I think Josh would like that very much.”
“I’ll call you then.” With that he left.
She pulled a chair next to Josh’s bed, resisting the urge to pick him up and cradle him on her lap. Her own eyelids fluttered as she listened to his rhythmic snores.
***
Jamey hesitated before entering Josh’s room. Would it seem forward of him to have brought Dorie coffee? He wasn’t a relative, nor anyone special in the kid’s life. Yet Jamey had tossed and turned all night with worry. He imagined Dorie hadn’t slept either.
He peeked into the hospital room. She sat by Josh’s bed watching him sleep, looking every bit the guardian angel.
She turned as he entered and handed her the coffee. “Thought you could use this. How’s the patient?”
“He seems to be doing better.”
“You look beat. Did you sleep at all?”
Dorie shook her head. “Dr. Wellington thinks Josh can go home this afternoon.”
“Gabe’s a good man.”
“Do you know him from the theater?”
How should he explain his friendship with Gabe, one that spanned more than classrooms and sports? A friendship bound as much by mischief as accomplishment. “Lots of places. We made Order of the Arrow together—”
“Is that some kind of club?”
“You might say so. It’s one of the highest levels a scout can achieve.”
“Oh.”
“Gabe and I and our brothers were close in age, so the four of us hung out together. Gabe went to Harvard, you know. He could have practiced anywhere he wanted but chose to come back to Midville. This town’s lucky to have a surgeon of his caliber.”
Josh stirred as Jamey positioned his chair at least a leg’s length from Josh’s bed. Might as well play it safe. “Glad to see you’re doing better, Josh.”
“Hi, Jamey. I’m sorry I kicked you at the pizza place. I didn’t mean it.”
“I know. Forget about it.” He turned to face Dorie again. “If you want, I can bring you and Josh home.”
Dorie smiled. “I’m not helpless—”
“I know, but it snowed six inches or more overnight. I noticed your tires are bald. I want to be sure you get out of the parking lot.”
“I do know how to drive, Sir Lancelot.” Her smile belied her tone and gave him hope. She lifted her cup. “Thanks for the coffee. You’re an angel.”
“Far from it.”
She stood, perhaps too quickly and lost her balance. Instinct prompted him to catch her before she tripped. Their eyes met, and in that instant something like an electric spark sizzled within his heart, like jump-starting a stalled engine.
Did she feel it too?
***
Take that, Jamey Sullivan.
Not to be unkind, but Dorie huffed with pride in making it home without sliding as he predicted. Once inside, she helped Josh off with his coat and put him to bed.
Mom said she’d keep Emma over one more night so Dorie could sleep. As if she could. She went into the kitchen and hauled out the cookie dough she’d bought from Josh’s school fund raiser. Might as well make a batch while Josh slept.
Coffee.
She star
ted a fresh pot, and her mind shifted to that moment Jamey stopped her fall. For the few seconds he held her she’d felt an odd connection, as if somehow she were meant to be there, an echo of the security she’d found in Devon’s arms.
The memory of their last embrace still crept into her dreams. Did Devon know he would not be coming back? When he had between he and turned his regiment, and shot a salute toward Josh. “Take care of your mother, sport.”
Josh, two pant sizes shorter then, stood tall and proud as he saluted back. “Yes sir, Daddy, sir.”
How much of that memory had seeped into Josh’s heart?
Jamey had commented that her son seemed unusually protective of her. Was that the reason Josh seemed mature beyond his years? A six-year-old shouldn’t be burdened with the care of a parent. If she had a man in her life, maybe Josh could go back to being a little boy again.
Chapter Six
Dorie paced the living room, her coat draped over her arm. Should she hang it back up or put it on? Mom had joined them for dinner, and Dorie had changed her mind about going to rehearsal six times already. With only a few days since his surgery, Josh needed her home more than she needed the diversion. What if he got sick again? If she procrastinated any longer, she’d be late. This emotional tug-of-war had to end.
Mom’s smile spoke sympathy. “Dorie, you know I love you and think you’re a wonderful mother.”
“But—”
“You worry too much. Josh is fine. He’s been running around the house with a towel pinned to his shoulders, pretending to be Superman.”
“What if he jumps off the stairs again? I’ve told him four times not to use the steps as a launching pad. I’m afraid this time it’ll be a broken leg.”
“You don’t think I know how to handle a restless child? I had a little boy too, you know.”
“And that little boy is now thirty-three and living in California. I don’t think JJ is ever going to grow up.”
“He will when he finds the right girl. Devon helped you grow up.”
True. She’d sown a few wild oats in college before meeting Devon during her senior year. They married the day after graduation. He joined the army that summer and she became an officer’s wife. How much more responsible could she have been?
Devon’s faith settled her more than marriage did. He had enough for both of them, his far deeper than hers. With Devon gone, he couldn’t tell her what she should believe. Now, faith had become a big question mark. What she knew of God had been absorbed through others, first her parents and later Devon—a sponged faith, counterfeit. She squirmed, glad to return to Josh’s needs and leave the shredding of her papier-mâché spirituality for another day.
Dorie powered on the cell phone and stuck it into her jeans pocket. “Call me if Josh gets too rowdy. Promise?”
Mom raised her right hand. “I promise.”
“They’ll quiet down with a movie.” She tossed a disc to her mother. “They haven’t seen this one yet.”
She put on her coat and slipped outside. The crisp night air nipped her nose. How she despised the cold. And being late.
***
The cast members and production crew filled four tables at the Little Red Hen Preschool. Dorie searched for a place to sit as twenty pairs of eyes stared at her. She spotted an empty chair to the left of Gabe, but Jamey sat to his right.
Surely she could find a better seat than that. She spotted an empty chair next to Gillian Davidson, the lady from Mom’s church. As Dorie took the seat, Gillian gave her a friendly smile. Apparently Midville had its warm-hearted folks as well as its characters.
Danny Riley stood. “We’ll move into the school auditorium a week or two before production. Until then all our rehearsals will be here. Evie, please mail our customary thank-you letter for the building use.”
Her face glowed with self-assurance. “Already done.”
When everyone had their script and instructions sheets, Danny brought attention to the rehearsal schedule and introduced each cast member. Gabe hunched over the table and whispered to Dorie, “Jamey always gets the part of the angel. So much for typecasting!”
Dorie scribbled the cast names into her script for future publicity purposes then scoped the room, a microcosm representing many segments of Midville society. The liquor store manager would play the drugstore owner. There was also the Episcopal minister, Reverend Stanton, his two sons, a church organist, and a postal worker. Zeke would play Ernie, the patrolman, while the resident police officer had been cast as the hefty Uncle Billy. Last to be introduced were Gabe Wellington and Susan Davidson. Who would have guessed that swivel-hipped flirt could be related to a refined woman like Gillian?
Danny continued the roster. “Susan will round out the cast as Mary Hatch Bailey. That leaves a few minor parts unfilled. Dorie, would you take the part of Mr. Potter’s secretary in addition to Mrs. Andrews?”
Two parts when she feared doing one? Should she accept the challenge? She agreed with a hesitant nod.
“Good. I’ll play Sam Wainright. Evie has agreed to take the role of Mrs. Thompson. Any thoughts for Mr. and Mrs. Martin?”
Jamey’s throaty snort confused her. “I think Dave and Donna Brown might be willing to step in,” he said as others joined his laughter, especially Officer Bob Smith.
Danny wiped tears from his eyes as he regained composure and pointed to Jamey. “Make sure Dave leaves his rifle at home.”
Dorie surrendered a clueless smile. She’d never fit in, but she might as well look as if she got the joke.
Gillian whispered in Dorie’s ear. “Bob arrested Dave last year for shooting an intruder.” She then spoke to the group. “I think Fran Hooper would take the part of Miss Carter.”
Jamey glanced toward Dorie. “What about Josh for the newspaper boy?”
Did she want to expose her impressionable son to a cast that included a twenty-first-century vigilante? “He’s only six. The part calls for a ten-year-old.”
“He’s a real smart kid,” Jamey said. “I think he could handle it. Don’t you agree, Gabe?”
“Absolutely.”
Danny’s eyes bugged a plea like Emma’s when she wanted a second bowl of ice cream. How could anyone say no to that kind of desperation? “Okay. I’ll ask him.”
“That leaves Pete Bailey. Mark, can your boy John do it?”
Reverend Stanton beamed. “No problem.”
Dorie marveled at small-town problem solving—so similar to that of army spouses who formed their own club, sharing meals and soccer games, forging a community within a community. There she’d been an active participant. She’d auditioned with the hope of belonging to a group again, and now she couldn’t feel more alien if she sprouted antennae.
“Let’s begin at the beginning,” Danny said.
A hush fell like a prelude to a prayer meeting. After Danny read the stage directions, Jamey and Gabe read in sync, mentally in tune as if decades of friendship harmonized their thoughts. With the last line read, scripts closed, the players scrambled toward the exit.
Dorie managed to get ahead of the pack and barreled toward her car.
“What’s your hurry?” a familiar voice asked from a distance.
She turned to see Gabe trailing forty yards behind and waited until he caught up with her. “I’m worried about Josh,” she said. “Are you sure it’ll be okay for him to go to the church costume party tomorrow night? It seems a little soon.”
“He should be fine.” Gabe caught her sleeve to bring them both to a stop. “Can you take time out for coffee and a doughnut at West End Café? I don’t normally eat fried foods, but not a man in Midville can resist those homemade donuts.”
“Sounds wonderful. Maybe some other time. I want to get home and see how Josh did tonight.”
“How about after rehearsal Wednesday?”
She hesitated. Jamey had seemed interested in her, but he hadn’t called. Maybe that touch in the hospital wasn’t as electric as she thought. “Wednesday night, then.”
“Your mother won’t mind staying with the kids a little longer?”
“I don’t think so. Besides, she knows your parents.”
Gabe rubbed his five o’clock shadow and shot her a grin. “Mother told me. She also mentioned how you thought I was too young to be a real doctor.”
Dorie’s cheeks heated as she opened her car door. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“I wasn’t insulted in the least. Now that I’m approaching middle age I take it as a compliment.”
As she spoke, she noticed Jamey as he leaned against the parking lot entrance of the building, his gaze aimed at her to Gabe. He tugged his cap and went back inside.
***
Jamey helped Danny and Evie put the tables back in place, pick up coffee cups, and retrieve leftover handouts. He’d give Gabe and Dorie their privacy before going to his own car. So Gabe liked Dorie too. Probably for the best. Gabe Wellington was well-established, the kind of father figure the children needed—the best sort of relationship for Dorie too. She deserved the stability Gabe could offer, not a fling with a man unsure of where life meant to take him. Yes, his head believed it. Now, if he could only convince his heart.
Chapter Seven
Large snowflakes, like those on a Hallmark card, drifted from a blackened sky. “Mom, are you sure the kids won’t be too much for you?”
“Don’t be silly. Josh’s surgery tired you out more than him. You should take the chance to rest. Besides, I’m more used to this weather than you are. I’d feel better if you let me drive in this stuff.”
“Is it the weather or my car?”
“Well, both.”
“They’ve been looking forward to the church costume party. Emma picked out her mask a month ago. Call when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll start the hot chocolate.”
Boomer yipped when the doorbell rang. Dorie opened the door to Spiderman and Superman, alias Kyle Townsend and his little brother.
Roaming from kid to kid and panting with excitement, Boomer collected his pats and rubs, in the process nudging Kyle’s two-year old brother to the floor. Dorie grabbed Boomer’s collar and wrestled him toward the kitchen. “In the cellar, boy, until the coast is clear.”
It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long Page 4