Jennifer

by Dee Henderson

  “I think so,” Tom replied, joining her at the low railing.

  The yard was large but secluded by a privacy fence. The ring of orchard trees was not something often found in Texas. It spoke of the time and energy Tom hadn’t yet given the inside of his home. She understood why he had begun here.

  The night was pleasant, the stars out, the moon only a sliver. Someone nearby had cooked out for dinner, and the faint smell of charcoal and grilled chicken lingered in the air. Jennifer moved over to settle on a padded deck chair while Tom went inside for cold drinks. “Make mine diet if you can, please,” she called after him.

  Jennifer took the glass Tom returned with, offered a thank-you, and leaned her head back. “Take away some of the city lights and this would be a wonderful place to stargaze.”

  “Early on, after I had gotten the house, I would often sit out here and daydream. I haven’t done enough of that recently.” He relaxed into a chair beside her and set aside his own soda. “I miss quiet evenings like this. Life gets too busy. I let it get too busy.” He reached across the space between them to touch her hand. “Did you hear back from your brother?”

  “Yes.” She smiled at the memory of their conversation. Jack had managed to catch her just as she was trying to touch-up paint a wall she had gashed with a shelf she’d been moving. The call had turned into a family gab session, and that wall was still not repainted. “We’re going to try for the July Fourth weekend to get everyone together. If I juggle things right, I can get the time off work.”

  “It sounds like it will be a good time.”

  “It will be. What about you? Did you catch your parents in?”

  “Dad’s presentation got moved up, but I still got a few minutes of his time to pass on my comments before he left. I wish I was going to be there to hear it in person. Lunch was great—Mom had fixed her fabulous pumpkin pie.” He turned to look over at her. “I meant to save you a piece, but I have to admit I ate it.”

  She laughed. “I can see your priorities. I’m glad you’re close to your dad. That has to be something he appreciates too.”

  She studied the stars stretched out overhead, so many of them, in so many different shades of brightness. “I need to be getting home,” she murmured, but she didn’t move. This was too peaceful to want to abandon. Housework was waiting for her, and bills to pay. She’d promised herself she would at least get her grocery shopping list written tonight if not the shopping itself. She had settled for oatmeal this morning, as she was out of milk for her usual cereal.

  “I know. We’ve both got busy days tomorrow,” he responded. “How’s Veronica?”

  Jennifer brightened at the question. “Surgery went well.” She was glad now that it had been pushed back twice. The surgeons had needed an extra two hours to deal with what they found when removing the mass. Veronica would not have been strong enough for that if they’d scheduled it sooner. “She mentioned you stopped by the recovery room. She thinks you look cute in the surgical scrubs and booties.”

  “Most females do.”

  She cocked her head, laughed, and tossed her pillow at him.

  He settled it behind him. “I like Veronica. And the surgeons did a good job. I think she’ll heal fine without any need for reconstructive work. She’s got a lot of courage, facing a disease that’s so unpredictable in how and when it will strike.”

  “Her mom is struggling with the situation more than Veronica is, I think.”

  “Understandable.”

  Tom pointed at a brighter star in the sky. “I’m probably wrong, but I think that’s Jupiter, hanging low below that triangle of bright stars.”

  “I know the Big Dipper and the Milky Way arm. Other than that, they’re just stars.”

  “God has them all named.”

  “You think so?”

  “Hm-mm.”

  “The alphabet He used must have more than twenty-six letters in it.”

  Tom smiled. “Probably.” He looked over at her. “How about coming to church with me Sunday, maybe go out to lunch afterward? We eventually need to do something planned rather than just take walks when it fits the end of a day.”

  “I don’t go to church, Tom.”

  His look turned curious. “Why not?”

  “I just don’t.”

  “Would you like to give it a try? I go to a Christian church over on Beech Street, just across from the eye clinic. You could come with me Sunday and see what you think.”

  The idea of going to church with him held zero appeal. She hesitated a beat too long in her search to find a way of politely saying no, and he must have taken the silence as a maybe.

  “It’s not that intimidating a place,” he reassured her. “They have decent coffee, songs with the words provided; the pastor’s messages this month are from the book of Luke. You won’t have to give money, or feel like you’ll be introduced to people, or brace to be asked awkward questions. People are friendly enough. And I’d be there to make sure . . .”

  She was laughing. “Okay. I get the point. It’s not quite as bad as a visit to the dentist. But you’re overplaying it a bit, I think.”

  “Yeah, I probably am. But I really would like you to come.”

  She felt trapped in a way she hadn’t felt for a very long time. Church. He probably didn’t even consider the whole thing a big deal. It was for him just church with lower-case emphasis, while for her it pretty much was an all-capitals word. “Since I’ll be dressed up for the occasion, we could have lunch somewhere afterward?”

  “Yes.”

  She bit her lip, but decided from his perspective the invitation really wasn’t a big deal and overreacting to it just said more about herself than she would like. “I’m on call this Sunday.”

  “You won’t be the only doctor there with a pager on. If you get called in, I’ll bring you over to the hospital and hang around until you’re done.”

  “Okay. This is just to see what I think,” she said, feeling like she needed to add something to temper her agreement.

  “Thanks.”

  “I get to decide how we spend the afternoon.”

  He smiled. “Now, that could be dangerous. What do you have in mind?”

  She considered it. “Shopping.”

  He grimaced but gamely nodded. “Just so long as you don’t spread the word around the hospital that that was how we spent the afternoon.”

  “If the past is any clue to how I am around stores, you’ll be carrying a lot of sacks before I’m done. I don’t get to shop very often, so I make the most of it.”

  “I appreciate the warning.” He finished his drink. “Want a refill?”

  “Please.”

  He disappeared back inside and soon returned with their glasses. “Seriously, you’ll like church, and I’ll like introducing you to some of my friends. All you’ve basically seen so far is the doctor side of my life, and there’s more than just that on occasion.”

  “I suspected as much. What time are you going to pick me up?”

  “Say nine thirty, and we’ll go to the second service.”

  She nodded, silently hoping there would be a noncritical page about nine ten Sunday morning, so she’d have an excuse to miss the service. How could she explain that church felt scary to her, as if she were in deep waters she didn’t understand?

  Jennifer walked across the parking lot with Tom, relieved the church service was over.

  He unlocked the car door and held it open for her. “Is there anything particular you’d love to have for lunch?”

  “Chinese, if you don’t mind.” She slid into the car seat, careful of her dress and the high heels she didn’t wear that often.

  “I know a great place,” he promised as he settled behind the wheel. The church parking lot was nearly full, with most people leaving at the same time. He let the car idle while other vehicles pulled out. “You were a good sport to come. What did you think?”

  “People were friendly enough, and at least it wasn’t a service where part of i
t was in Latin.”

  He smiled. “It wasn’t what you were expecting.”

  “I don’t know that I had an expectation. I just . . . well, I won’t say I was lost, but in some ways it was like attending a medical seminar in something not my specialty. I understood the words, but not what was being said. I still don’t understand what you believe or why.”

  He looked over at her. “What would you like to ask?”

  “I don’t know—that’s part of the problem. Maybe I could borrow your Bible? I guess I’ve never read it before.” She didn’t want to extend this conversation further. She wasn’t that curious, but she felt like it was the only appropriate answer at this point. Tom had brought the book with him from home, and when the pastor started reading, Tom shared his so she could read along too.

  “Sure.” He’d placed it on the back seat, and he reached around to pick it up. He offered the book to her.

  It had thin paper pages, and the text was laid out in two columns like newsprint. “Where do I start?” she asked rather tentatively. If he said to start at the beginning, she would be reading for a year or two before getting to the page they’d read that morning.

  “Here.” Tom opened the Bible in her hands to where he’d put his handout for the order of service. “This side of the page is what the pastor was reading. If you back up about ten pages—” he showed her—“you’ll be at the start of the book of Luke. Why don’t you start reading from there?

  “I like Luke,” Tom went on, “because he was a doctor, and he writes with a doctor’s attention to detail about what he saw and heard regarding Jesus. Luke talks about Jesus’ birth and childhood and the public ministry He began when He was thirty. The entire book is only about fifty pages, and if you read it, you’ll have a pretty good idea of what I believe and why. It isn’t intended to be obscure or hard to understand.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind loaning this to me?”

  “I’ve got several Bibles—it’s not a problem.”

  She slid the program back in the page to note where Luke began. “I’ll read and see what I think. And I’ll take good care of your Bible. I can tell you use this one a lot.” The pages were marked with passages underlined, and notes scrawled in the margins.

  “Jen . . .” He waited until she looked at him. “It’s okay to tell me after you read Luke that you still don’t get it or that it seems strange to believe it’s true. Faith has to be something that is reasoned and thought about; otherwise, it’s just going along with the crowd. And that’s not going to mean much, either to yourself or to God.”

  “You’ll be disappointed if I say I don’t get it.”

  “Disappointed, but still hopeful. I wrestled with the whole question of faith for several years before I chose to believe what the Bible says is true.” He smiled. “I’m not holding this up as something you have to pass or fail. What kind of friend would that be? I’d just like you to be curious about God. Read Luke and tell me what you think. That would be a good place to start.”

  “Okay.” She put the book with her purse.

  He joined the stream of cars flowing toward the street exit. “Chinese for lunch, then shopping, as promised. Do you have an idea where you want to begin?”

  “I need a new pair of dress shoes, so a shoe store, or three or four of them. I’m choosy about shoes.”

  “Better than I could have hoped for—at least there will be a place I can sit down.”

  She laughed. “There is that. Then I need a new outfit for the Fourth of July family gathering. It’s a big deal.”

  “Dress up?”

  “Opposite. Think downscale—way down. The most obnoxious T-shirt I can find. I may be pitching the family softball game. They have to be distracted enough to not see the pitch coming.”

  “Got it. Do me a favor and take pictures at this gathering. I already like your family and I’ve never even met them.”

  “I plan to. I love pictures.”

  “I’ve noticed. And just to be forewarned—I’m going to get a shot of the two of us before the end of this day, even if we have to cram into one of those mall photo booths.”

  “I’m game,” Jennifer agreed, laughing. She had several snapshots of him from the kids’ party now tucked in her billfold, but none of the two of them together yet. She’d like to have that photo, regardless of what their future held.

  This was the kind of spring she had always enjoyed, one filled with new opportunities and wonderings about what might be coming next. She wanted it captured in photos. She wanted to dream a bit about what might be.

  5

  Dawn was just barely lightening the sky as Jennifer pulled a chair up to a hospital bedside in a sixth-floor private room. One look at the medevac flight roster from overnight and the list of who had been admitted, and her plans for the day had changed.

  “Hi, Kelly.”

  The girl stirred, turned her head, and joy lit her eyes. “Hi, Doc.”

  She was pale and thin and looked so much older than her age. Already she was three years past the last birthday her doctors thought she would ever see. Jennifer laid the book she’d wrapped on the blanket so the girl could easily reach it. “Happy birthday,” she said softly.

  Kelly smiled. “Thanks. I told you I’d make it to twelve.”

  “Yes, you did, my brave girl. I’m so proud of you.”

  Kelly’s lungs were filling, every breath was a struggle, and in a matter of hours she would be back in the ICU. She’d long ago moved on to more specialized care than this hospital and its medical professionals could provide her. Because Creggle’s Syndrome was so rare, only a few physicians in the country had the experience to help Kelly. But whenever the end arrived, the family had known it might be this way—a bad cold turning into pneumonia, and a flight to the nearest hospital equipped to keep her breathing.

  “I’m sorry your vacation ended this way,” Jennifer said, hurting to see her young friend struggling. She leaned over to recheck the IV line and took hold of the child’s hands to determine how chilled she was, even with the fever.

  “I got to see the Lincoln Memorial,” Kelly whispered, smiling again. “I always wanted to stand there and look at that really big sculpture. I’d thought I might sit on his lap, but it was too high.” They both chuckled, then Kelly added, “We did the White House tour. I don’t know how Dad arranged it, but he did.”

  “I’m glad.” Jennifer really was glad, but she felt her smile was a bit shaky. The girl had talked about the trip for years, researching every facet of the stops and what they could see. She’d been in good health before the trip—as prepared as the medical community could make her for what had been a lifelong dream. No one wanted to deny her the one thing she most wanted in her life while she still had the ability to enjoy it.

  “Don’t be sad, Doc,” Kelly whispered. “We’ve licked colds before. I will again.”

  “I know.” Jennifer squeezed her hand. “Do you want me to read to you for a while from your birthday book?”

  Kelly nodded.

  “I found a copy of my favorite story for you.”

  “Miss Mandy?” Kelly asked, her voice sounding thrilled despite being weak.

  “I found it in a very old box of my treasured books,” Jennifer replied, grateful she’d spent the hours searching in the hope it had been saved. She opened the birthday wrappings and showed Kelly the find. Over thirty years old, the book had seen much better days, but the story was still a treasured one. “It’s now autographed to you.”

  She’d told Kelly the story many times from memory as they walked together around hospital halls, Kelly trying to do one more lap and Jennifer encouraging her on.

  “Read me the wedding scene with the dog and cat and the cake.”

  “A perfect place to drop into the story.” Jennifer nodded as she found the page. She hoped her memory of the story would come close to what the book would now actually portray.

  Jennifer found the box of coffee filters and pushed around cans in he
r cupboard to find the decaf. She normally drank tea this late at night, but Tom had never acquired the taste for it.

  It had been difficult to smile today as she saw the rest of her patients, hard to pass on the normal optimism she could bring to even the toughest situations. The sadness tonight was heavy enough she was glad Tom had offered to stay a few minutes after bringing her home.

  He leaned against the counter beside her while she set up the coffee maker. “You haven’t told your family about me yet, have you?”

  She glanced over and saw the photo he held. She found the energy to smile, took the picture of the O’Malleys from his hand and put it back under the magnet on her refrigerator. “It’s not that I don’t want to. There just hasn’t been the appropriate time. I announce you without some groundwork being laid first, and a couple days later you’ll have a U.S. Marshal walking through your office door to give you the third degree.”

  “I survived medical school and then a surgical residency. Your brothers aren’t going to intimidate me.”

  “Okay, then it will be my sister Lisa, the forensic pathologist, walking through your office door, demanding your life story.”

  “I’ll give you that one. Lisa would be a challenge.” He smiled. “Face it, Jennifer. You’ve got an interesting family. I’d like to meet them one day.”

  He was comfortable in his authority as a surgeon and good at handling the unexpected, but she knew he still had no real concept of what it would be like to meet the O’Malleys. This wasn’t a simple equation, and she didn’t know how to explain why; she just knew it inside and wasn’t going to take a risk yet. “I really do want you to meet them. And we’ll talk about it.”

  “Rachel seems nice.”

  “They are all nice. They’re just . . . protective. I’m the youngest, and they consider themselves all rather invested in what’s going on in my life. I can’t rush words like boyfriend into their vocabulary.”

  Tom settled his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “I like that word.”