Jennifer

by Dee Henderson

  The woman smiled and moved toward the door. “Tell Tom I said hi. Call me if anything changes in the meantime.”

  “I will.”

  Jennifer was grateful for the slight reprieve. At least she’d be able to tell Tom when he asked that she’d seen her doctor, and if the tests were fit in over the next week or so, maybe he would accept that simple assurance for how she was doing. He watched her more closely than she realized at times, and the last thing she wanted was him worrying about her.

  She glanced at her watch and knew she was going to be pushed for time to see all her patients and still get over to the hospital to watch Tom in surgery that afternoon. Instead of continuing to make assumptions, she wanted to return the favor and get a better idea for what his workday was like. But it had never seemed to fit into her day to be there as of yet.

  Her pager chirped. She read the text as she left the exam room. Veronica had begun running a fever.

  Jennifer pulled a glass serving bowl down from the upper shelf for their salad Wednesday night and moved around Tom at the stove to a work area near the sink. She began shredding lettuce and considered adding some of the spinach he, for some strange reason, actually liked.

  “You’re awful quiet tonight.”

  “It was a long day,” she replied, choosing to leave it at that. She was looking forward to a meal together, a baseball game on television she could share with him without paying much attention beyond the score, and then an early night.

  He leaned into her space. “Coming to meet my parents Thursday?”

  She glanced over at him. His attention was focused on the dinner preparations, and she wasn’t sure how deliberate the move closer to her had been. “I’m thinking about it.”

  “You should say yes, you know. Mom makes wonderful lasagna. A whole lot more edible meal than this is going to end up being with me doing the major cooking here.”

  She smiled. “It’s not the food I’m worried about.”

  “The expectations will be realistic. Mom knows not every girl in town is going to fall in love with her son.”

  “Hmmm. I think her son has different ideas.”

  “You can’t blame a guy for trying.” His arm brushed hers. “I like the new perfume, by the way.”

  Jennifer nudged him out of her space. Without either of them saying much, she knew they were both aware this had become more than a simple friendship over the last few weeks, but where exactly it was going hadn’t really defined itself yet. “Larry said he could take my pager. But I need to be able to come in if Veronica gets worse.”

  “Not a problem—I’ll get you there. How’s she doing?”

  Jennifer tilted her hand back and forth rather than answer in words. Fever was never a good sign when it showed up in the first weeks after a major surgery. Veronica had the spirit to fight, but her body wasn’t cooperating. The fever kept drifting higher and not breaking. “How about if we don’t stay too long? Dinner, then come back here?”

  Tom smiled. “Now who’s nervous? I’ll stop by for you at six, we’ll have dinner with my folks, and I’ll escort you back to your front door by nine. Promise.”

  “And not a word about maybe being something more than friends someday,” she murmured, looking down at the salad to hide her blush.

  “I don’t think Mom is going to need words to figure it out.”

  “Promise me anyway.”

  He reached over and ran a finger along her cheek. “Promise. Trust me.”

  Trust was something that didn’t come particularly easy to any of the O’Malleys, but she knew he was doing his best to make it possible for her to take the next step with him. “Pick me up at six.” She was starting to trust this man, and with that was going to come the gift of her heart.

  8

  Thursday night Tom unlocked the door to Jennifer’s home, turned on lights, and stepped inside after her. He opened the hall closet and hung up her jacket for her. She moved into the living room to check for messages on her answering machine. He pushed his hands into his pockets, worried about her. She was still more quiet than normal, had been ever since Veronica’s fever had returned. He didn’t know how to help. “Thank you for the evening. I know it’s not much of a date, spending it with my parents.”

  She looked back at him with a brief smile. “I loved meeting your parents. It would be so sad if you were living in the same city as them and didn’t enjoy spending time together. Your mom and I are going out to lunch sometime next week, and she’s bringing her photo albums.”

  “So I overheard,” he noted dryly. He walked over, put an arm around her shoulders, and turned her from the living room toward the kitchen. “Decaf coffee. Then I’m off.”

  She didn’t seem ready to talk about what was going on yet, and pushing it wasn’t something that fit the situation, not when sadness seemed to be causing the quietness he sensed in her. “Veronica will be fine,” he reassured.

  “I hope so.”

  The hospital halls were quiet at eleven the next evening as Jennifer walked to the room she had visited many times. The page had come shortly after ten. She’d been home, but still up. She tapped on the hospital room door before stepping inside. “Hi, Veronica.”

  The girl lifted a hand in hello as she tried to smile. Jennifer pulled over a chair and settled in beside her. “How are you doing?”

  “Chest hurts tonight,” the child whispered.

  “There may be a fluid pocket developing where they removed the mass that could be causing some of that,” Jennifer said softly, relieved to finally have a medical answer for what was happening.

  “They told me. They want to do more surgery.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “If it makes me better. Mom is worried. She’s talking with the doctors now.”

  “I know she is. The surgeons are good. They’ll be in and out as simply and safely as they can be.”

  “Will you be there, in the recovery room?”

  Jennifer soothed the girl’s hand. “I will. And maybe I can get Tom to stop by the recovery room again too.”

  “He’s pretty cool, for a doctor.”

  “I’ll tell him you think so.” Jennifer gently squeezed the small hand. “They’re going to call folks in and do the surgery tonight, so you don’t have to feel so awful for much longer.”

  “I just want to go home and go back to school and play with my dog . . . normal stuff again. No more hospitals.”

  “I want that for you too. Let’s see if this solves the problem, and then we’ll get you sprung from here as fast as we can.”

  The OR was quiet and orderly and calm. It didn’t change the fact everyone there had been called in late on a Friday night because of the urgency with the case. Tom followed Gina to the light board to see the latest pictures, joining Kevin, who was already studying them.

  “You know this patient?” Kevin asked.

  Tom nodded and examined the film. The fluid pocket was distinct. The X-rays had been clear forty-eight hours before, and no one wanted to wait and see what they would look like in another twelve hours. If this was actually a rupture draining into her chest cavity, every hour was critical.

  “A systemic infection not responding to treatment—something is keeping it generated,” Kevin remarked. “This looks like the source.”

  “Let’s hope so. If not, opening her up again is going to cause more complications than it solves.” Tom scanned the film one last time. The procedure itself would take him only about thirty minutes. They would know soon. “Okay. Let’s get this one under way.”

  Tom leaned against the brick wall, tired from the adrenaline drain even short surgeries always brought. “I think it was the right call,” he said to Jennifer, glad she was there but concerned about the fatigue he saw in her face. “There was a smell to the fluid, even though it appeared clear. The lab will have to tell us. The tissue that settled into the void left by the mass looks like it had folded over on itself and may have created a channel for liquids to s
eep through into the chest cavity. If that was the cause, it’s been dealt with, and this shouldn’t reoccur.”

  “Thank you for that good news, Tom.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  “I watched you work.” She gestured to the glass window. “You look comfortable in there.”

  “It’s my turf.”

  “More than that. You’re sure of yourself and what you’re doing.”

  “I’m comfortable that I know what can be done and how to do it. I just can’t always predict the outcome days later. But this time I’ll make a reasoned guess that another forty-eight hours of intravenous antibiotics and that fever will break and finally disappear.”

  He slipped the protective covers off his shoes. “I’m going to get changed. I’ll see you in the recovery room shortly. Would you like me to give you a lift home once she’s settled? You really need some sleep.”

  “I think I’ll stay awhile and visit with her mom. Thanks for the offer, but go on home.”

  “Call me when you do get home? Just so I know you didn’t fall asleep during the drive.”

  “I like the fact you worry about me.”

  “It’s getting to be a bad habit, but call me anyway.”

  “I promise.”

  Tom watched her head toward the recovery room and knew what his dad meant when he’d remarked after dinner that Jennifer was a giver. Even after she’d given enormous amounts of energy and time, she still had the heart to give more. As a compliment, Tom thought it was one of the best his father could have bestowed.

  He rubbed his tired neck and went to change. He wanted the freedom to worry about how much sleep she got, and have the right to do something about it. Instead he’d be going home alone.

  Jennifer found comfort just in watching Veronica sleep. The pain, visible this last week on her face even as she slept, was now fading. Her breathing was less labored, and the fever at least checked and not rising.

  Jennifer stayed until she was certain the girl would sleep for the rest of the night. After saying good-night to Veronica’s mom, she walked to her car and slid into the driver’s seat with a sigh. It was a quiet drive home, without much traffic stirring in the still-dark early morning hours.

  She arrived home, locked up the house, and walked upstairs. Once in the bedroom, she picked up the phone and dialed a number she knew by heart.

  “Hello?”

  She’d awakened Tom from a pretty deep sleep, and that made her voice soften even before she spoke. “I’m home. And yes, come to the Fourth of July gathering and meet my family. It will be easier to introduce you in person than to mention you over the phone and have the family grapevine take over and spread the news.”

  He was quiet for a good half minute. “You won’t regret this.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Trust me, Jen. You won’t regret this.” She could tell he was now smiling.

  “Good night, Tom. Go back to sleep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She hung up the phone, smiling in return.

  Electing to linger at home a few extra minutes before going to the hospital to start weekend rounds, Jennifer called in to check on Veronica, found she’d had a stable night, then fixed herself a bagel and coffee. She brought it into the living room and curled up on the couch. She picked up one of the books on the coffee table.

  She’d been thinking last night, before the page about Veronica, about Kelly and what it had been like to lose her. She couldn’t help but worry she was going to lose Veronica and face that pain again.

  She’d remembered something Kelly had often said in passing. Like Tom, Kelly believed in God, and Jennifer had seen the results of that faith and courage, even on the day Kelly had died. The girl had smiled at the idea of going home to heaven. “‘Jesus loves me, this I know . . .’” she’d whispered to explain why she had smiled. Her faith had been real, even as she faced dying.

  After a few pages, Jennifer closed Tom’s book on the resurrection. She sat there for a while, finding there were no more questions really she needed to wrestle with. She’d read enough to understand. It came down to a very simple decision. Either she believed what she’d read in the Bible was true or she would choose to believe it was not true. Tom was right—the final step itself was pretty simple.

  She set aside the book. She was surprised to find there was comfort now, not fear, in the decision she had probed and thought about and weighed for weeks. “Yes, Jesus. I believe. The Scriptures are true.” She spoke the words aloud, willing to accept this relationship as a conversation that would now go both ways. She believed Jesus meant it when He said He wanted a relationship with her. That He loved her. She was falling in love with Him in return. She had been for weeks, coming to love the person she’d met in the pages of the Bible.

  She wasn’t sure what else to say to God, but Tom had suggested she just say what was on her mind. “I’m grateful you had Tom risk inviting me to church even when he knew he would likely be turned down. I’m grateful you made him a patient man, willing to give me space and not push as I sorted this out in my own mind. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy on him, as he waited and hoped I would ask questions of him, only to find I would approach this my own way. Tom’s a good man who loves you. I suppose you know that,” she added, smiling.

  She thought about what she’d said to God and decided she didn’t have anything else to add. “That’s all I’ve got to say at the moment. So, now what?”

  She picked up the Bible and was content to turn back to the first pages of Luke. In a matter of weeks God had managed to make clear to her what Christianity was about. He would sort out for her what came next, just as He had sorted out the details of this discovery so far. She knew life would be different from this day on. And for once that didn’t scare her. It felt like the first day of a new adventure.

  Her family needed to see what she had found. None of them had considered God in a serious way before. They needed to believe too, not only so they would be in heaven with her one day but also so they didn’t have to live life on their own, without God to help them. She wondered what their questions would be and how they would respond. They would listen because they loved her, but they would have to weigh the evidence and each make up his or her own mind.

  As important as Tom was becoming in her life, her relationship with him had begun only this year. The O’Malleys had been closer to her heart than anyone else for two decades. She thought about the Fourth of July and how many big topics she would be bringing with her. Christianity. Boyfriend. They would wonder what was happening to her all the way down there in Texas. They’d be happy for her because she was happy—they were loyal that way. Puzzled but happy, she thought. She could work from that starting point.

  9

  Jennifer could hardly wait to tell Tom her news. It was bubbling up inside her so much she knew her smile was going to draw his comment sooner versus later. He carried in his groceries that afternoon while she held the door for him, and she followed him into his kitchen. She leaned against the island countertop, watching as he put vegetables in the crisper drawer. “I believe the Bible is true,” she said quietly.

  He looked around so fast he nearly dropped the package of carrots. “Really?”

  She nodded.

  He left the refrigerator open, the carrots on the counter, and swept her up in a hug even as he laughed. “That’s wonderful news, Jen. When did this happen?”

  “This morning.” His smile was so big and his expression so full of joy—she couldn’t remember seeing him this happy.

  “What was the final tipping point?”

  “‘Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so,’” she replied, quoting the song. “I finally figured out what even my patients have been so confident about. Jesus loves me. This I know. And because that is true, the rest of it can be true.” She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Which is easier, to just say the words I love you, or to mean it and act on it? I figured out Jesus re
ally meant it, and He died for me. They’re not just words.”

  “I’m so glad, Jen.”

  “Are you crying?” She leaned back to look into his face.

  He blinked fast. “I’m considering it. This means an awful lot to me.”

  She was beginning to realize that. “Maybe I should have told you later tonight.”

  “No way. This errand stuff can wait. We should celebrate.”

  “I thought you could make popcorn, and we’d watch a movie—something simple. You need to put your groceries away first. Your ice cream is melting.”

  “We could do that. I’m just so glad . . .”

  “I like you happy like this. I didn’t expect this to be your reaction.”

  “Okay, so I’m kind of emotional about stuff I really care about.” He eased back a step and rescued the ice cream. “A good movie, popcorn, maybe a walk—our standard threesome.”

  “I like it.” She picked up an apple from the bowl on his counter. “I’ve decided one of us needs a dog. We walk too much not to have something that’s four-legged scampering along with us. Most everyone we pass is walking a dog.”

  “Where did this idea come from?”

  “My kids. What do you think?”

  “Right now I think you could ask for an elephant and I’d try to accommodate you.”

  She laughed and picked up his car keys. “I’ll go get the milk from the car. I think I’m a distraction. You just put the ice cream in the refrigerator rather than the freezer. I’m going to have to remember this.”

  Tom stretched out on the floor beside the couch and shared the popcorn bowl with her while the movie previews crossed the screen.

  She leaned over the couch cushion and looked down at him. “Could you be the one to baptize me? The idea of getting dropped while leaning back in a big pool of water isn’t exactly the way I want to make this public confession of faith the Bible talks about. No offense to our pastor, but I know you.”