“Even though they were sad?”
“Right in the middle of their sadness, they knew that somebody needed help.”
“And that was me.”
“That was you,” I said, pulling the sheets around her and Pooh. She motioned for me to come closer, as if she was going to tell me a secret. I leaned down and she wrapped her little arms around my neck, kissing my cheek.
“I love you, Dr. Andrews,” she said, giggling. For a moment, I couldn’t imagine the possibility of not working with children like Hope again. I patted her arm as her mother returned to the room, holding a cup of coffee and a stack of children’s books and toys, anything she could find to help bring a smile to Hope’s face. She saw that Hope was laughing again, and she looked at me, wondering what I had done to her child.
I wandered down to the cafeteria for a large cup of coffee and a sandwich for lunch, but maintenance had closed it off—a pipe had burst, flooding much of the kitchen floor. I walked across the street to Macbeth’s, and for the first time ever I saw Dr. Goetz outside of the hospital. I didn’t realize the chief of cardiology would set foot in a place like Macbeth’s. I avoided eye contact, hoping he wouldn’t see me, but I heard him say hello. I waved, acting as if I hadn’t seen him there, and made my way to his table. “Have a seat,” he said. I slid into a chair, uncomfortable to be sitting with him.
“How’s the rotation going?” He obviously hasn’t heard, I thought. I assumed that all the doctors knew which medical students were crashing and burning.
“I love meeting new patients,” I said, avoiding the question.
“I can see that. Hope is impressed. That’s not easy to do.” I took a sip of coffee and shook my head.
“I don’t know how you can keep yourself from not getting attached to kids like her and Charlie and Meghan.”
“Who said I’m not attached?” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “I held Meghan when she was just a few days old. I can’t tell you how old that makes me feel. Her parents would take her to their family doctor, but they’d always bring her to me afterward, concerned about a diagnosis, or the use of certain medications. It got to the point where they were bringing her to me first whenever something was wrong.” I couldn’t imagine any other chief of cardiology seeing a patient on those terms.
“Why didn’t you just tell them that you weren’t their family physician?” He took the lid off a black coffee and swirled it round in the cup before taking a long drink.
“I don’t know, but for whatever reason, when Meghan looked up at me with those huge blue eyes . . . I just knew that I needed to be her doctor. There’s something about children who have a heart condition. They perceive life differently than the rest of us. They listen with the heart. They see things through the eyes of the heart. When a child sits in my office and looks at me, I know he or she sees right past the degrees and awards on the wall. They see me, and that’s a terrifying thought.” I never knew Dr. Goetz had a sense of humor.
“Do you remember all your patients from over the years?”
“I don’t think I could place all the adults, but I remember the children.” He was quiet. “I remember all of them.” I knew he was talking about the ones he couldn’t help. “I can see the picture of so many children in my mind, but they all have a big question mark stamped on them. Why did that child have heart disease? Why didn’t he have a strong heart like other children? I lost a four-year-old two weeks after a transplant last year and her face will pop into my mind and I just can’t explain why she’s not running across a playground today.” For the first time since I met him I realized that I liked Dr. Goetz. He didn’t think he was superior in any way; he was more in touch with the fact that he was human than I was at the time.
“Did you ever want out?”
He leaned back and smiled. “I got out.”
“When?”
“Eighteen years ago. I was out for six years.” I couldn’t believe that Dr. Crawford Goetz would ever walk away from medicine—from day one I just knew he had to have been a gunner in med school.
“Why did you leave?”
“I couldn’t take the sadness anymore. Couldn’t deal with the sickness. I was going home to my family depressed every day. I had taken my limit of people dying, so I took a job in landscaping. It had nothing to do with medicine. I could go out each day and break my back but never worry about another patient dying under my care.”
“What brought you back?”
“The very thing that drove me away.”
I don’t know if Dr. Goetz said the things he did because he knew I was leaving med school or if he was just showing a student that even doctors walk through dark days, sometimes walking through years of darkness before finding their way back.
I left the restaurant and walked back to the hospital, thinking about my conversation with Dr. Goetz and about Hope and Charlie and so many of the kids in the pediatric unit. How could I live my life running from what scared me, when children were facing their fears head-on every day? I decided to take the coward’s way out and think about that tomorrow.
I left the hospital at five that afternoon. I was picking Meghan up at six. I called earlier in the day to make sure she was feeling up to it, and she assured me she was, saying she was tired of resting when there was no reason to rest in the first place.
“When’s the last time you went out on a date?” William asked, amused.
“I don’t remember. All I know is none of the last ones went all that well, so I don’t want to do what I did with them.”
“What’d you do with them?”
“I took the last two girls to a museum.”
William looked at me and shook his head. “You mean fossils?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Take her someplace nice to eat and try to charm her,” he said, entering a patient’s room. Then he stuck his head out the door. “If you can do that without fossils,” he yelled after me.
I drove home, wondering how I would charm Meghan. I wasn’t very good in that department, not at all like William. A thought occurred to me, and I opened the phone book. I had heard about a small theater in the next town over that played independent and classic films. I called them, and they were showing The Philadelphia Story with Katharine Hepburn. Perfect.
Olivia opened the door and smiled. “Are you and Meghan going out?” she asked. I nodded. Meghan put her hands on Olivia’s shoulders, pulling her away from the door. To this day, I remember what Meghan was wearing that night: jeans and a dark brown pullover cable-knit sweater that looked stunning on her. Olivia dragged her father to the door.
“So you’re the man who’s stolen my little girl’s heart,” he said, swaying Olivia back and forth on top of his feet.
“Daddy, don’t embarrass me,” Olivia said.
“You can expect something a hundred times worse than this about ten years from now,” Jim said. I liked Jim Sullivan. He reminded me of my father: No one was getting to his daughters without going through him first. I talked with him and Allison for a few minutes, long enough for them to discover my age, family background, future plans, and social security number, before I helped Meghan into my truck.
“Sorry about that,” she said, as I climbed in. “It’s easier to break into the Pentagon than it is to date one of Jim Sullivan’s daughters.”
I wanted to take Meghan to the Italian restaurant in town, one that made each course a meal in itself, but she wasn’t interested.
“Oh, why don’t we go to Macbeth’s or some place where it’s not so stuffy?” I knew then that my grandmother would love Meghan. I drove to Chuck’s. “What’s this?” Meghan asked.
“This is the best cheeseburger and shake in America,” I said, pointing to the half-blown neon sign above the entrance. Meghan read the sign and laughed: THE BEST CHEESEBURGER AND SHAKE IN AMERICA.
I can’t remember all we talked about that night. All I know is that it was effortless with Meghan. She was lovely and bright, and I couldn’t h
elp but think she was perfect . . . for me.
Dear Nathan,
You won’t find a perfect person to love, so please don’t think you will. But you will find someone who is perfect for you. She won’t be everything you ever dreamed of. She will be more. So give her only your best—your heart, and all the love in the world!
Mom
I refrained from holding Meghan’s hand during the movie. I didn’t even put my arm around her; it was, after all, our first date, and I’ve always been chicken, to say the least, so the decision not to do anything was easy for me. The temperature had dropped from the time I had picked Meghan up, colder than most Novembers in recent years, so after the movie I wrapped my jacket around her and helped her to the truck. I drove her home and scurried her to the front door, lowering my head to avoid the high wind. She got her key out and turned to look at me, shivering. “Keep my jacket,” I said. “I’ll get it some other time.” I didn’t know what to do, so I smiled and turned to leave. “I’ll call you,” I said.
“You can kiss me if you want.” I turned back around, put my hands under my arms and looked at her. “I mean, it’s okay, if that’s what you were thinking. But if it’s not what you were thinking, then I’ve just really embarrassed myself and . . .”
I grabbed her and kissed her and forgot about the cold and the wind and the fact that I had to get up at five o’clock in the morning.
Days later, I went to one of Meghan’s cross-country meets and sat fourth bleacher up, by the “foghorn man,” next to Olivia. Meghan looked up from the field and smiled at us. The air was crisp, and she was wearing spandex pants and a long-sleeved shirt with the university’s name printed on the front. I zipped up my jacket and waited for her race to be called. Jim bolted out of his seat the second the gun went off for Meghan’s first race. He pumped his hand in the air, screaming, “Go, baby; go, baby; go, baby,” as Meghan blazed through the woods and across the countryside. Allison cowered in embarrassment, and I laughed. I had a feeling this was routine for them. Meghan was unbelievable; too fast for the competitors. She crossed the finish line in first place, and Jim pounded my back, shaking my shoulders.
I helped Meghan gather her things and walked her to my truck. We hadn’t talked about her scholarship offers since her overnight stay in the hospital, but after I saw her run again I just had to bring it up. “When are you going to visit Stanford and Georgetown?” She sighed, leaning her head on the back of the seat.
“I have no idea. I don’t know what to do anymore because I really love my coach here, I love the university.” She grabbed my hand and smiled. “I love everything the city has to offer.”
“But you can’t stay here.” She turned her head to look out the window. I pulled her shoulders around to face me. “When you run . . . it’s one of the most unbelievable things I’ve ever seen. You’re a star, Meghan. You were meant to shine. Those schools have the best running programs in the nation.” She wasn’t responding. “That has to be important for you. Running has got to be one of your dreams, right?”
“Sure, but I’ve got more dreams than that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“I want the scholarship run to help put kids through college.”
I nodded. “And you can work on that while you’re at either school.”
“I want to help change my small part of the world.”
I nodded again and smiled. “You’ve already done that. What else?”
“I want to fall in love.”
“I’m sure you will,” I said. She looked at me and squeezed my hand.
“I’m sure I already have.”
I should have told Meghan then and there that I loved her, but I didn’t. I don’t know why. I guess I just assumed there would be plenty of time left for me to do that.
Meghan and I were supposed to go out the next day, but she was tired and sore and had a headache that was keeping her in bed. I could tell by her voice that she didn’t feel well.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Dr. Goetz,” she said on the phone. “He’ll throw me in a hospital bed and strap me down for a week.” We rescheduled for the next day.
When I picked her up, she looked great. She didn’t tell me that she felt lousy and that none of her symptoms had gone away.
I drove her out of the city and toward my hometown. I drove through town and up the road that led to the hillside where my grandparents once lived. I hadn’t been on the road in years and had forgotten how windy it was. We made it to the top and I opened the door for Meghan. The November wind whipped through her hair, and she wrapped her coat around her; it was much colder on top. “What an incredible spot,” she said.
I hadn’t stood on top of this hill with another woman since my mother died. I watched as Meghan looked over the top of the ridge into the valley below. Her hair kept blowing in her eyes, and she tried in vain to keep it out of her face. She pulled it back and held it away with her hand; she had high cheekbones but the most delicate features. She was beautiful. The wind blew her coat open and she screamed, wrapping it around her again as she ran into me, burying her head in my chest. She wrapped her arms around me, and I smelled her perfume. Thanksgiving was just over three weeks away, then Christmas would be upon us before we knew it; and although I had no idea what I would do once my rotation was over, I knew that life didn’t get much better than this.
SEVEN
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart.
—Helen Keller
Meghan grabbed two ibuprofen out of the bathroom cupboard and poured herself a glass of water in the kitchen. The two ibuprofen she’d taken earlier hadn’t touched her headache, and she didn’t want to be sick on Thanksgiving. She peeled potatoes and put them on the stove to boil. “Are these the last things that need to be done?”
“That’s it,” Allison said.
“Let me peel them,” Michele said, sliding in next to Meghan at the sink.
“You’re our guest today,” Allison said. “You’re not supposed to work.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a tablecloth with fat turkeys all over it. “Here you go,” she said to Michele. “If you want, you can set the table.”
Meghan caught a glimpse of the tablecloth. “No, Mom. Please don’t use that. The Pilgrims had better tablecloths than that thing.”
Michele snapped the tablecloth in the air. “Do you normally line the turkeys up across like this?” Michele asked.
“Just make sure the fat one rests right in the center,” Allison said, pulling the cloth over the table with the finesse of a fine artist.
Jim sliced the turkey and set it in the middle of the table. “I already know what I’m thankful for,” Olivia said. Every year the Sullivans went around the table and said what they were thankful for, it was a tradition Allison started when Meghan was a baby. Jim set a thick slice of breast meat on Olivia’s plate.
“All right,” he said. “Olivia’s going to start us off this year.”
“I’m thankful for this,” she said, pointing to the turkey on her plate. Luke was thankful for the snow that would soon be on its way, which meant early school dismissals. Allison’s eyes misted over when she said she was thankful that her husband and her children were all in good health.
“Mom, you cry every year,” Luke said, embarrassed.
“What are you thankful for, Daddy?” Olivia asked.
“That you’re all right here at this table,” Jim said.
They turned to look at Michele, who was busy filling her plate. She set her napkin in her lap and realized that everyone was looking at her. “You don’t have to participate,” Jim said, giving her an out.
“That’s okay. I know exactly what I’m grateful for. My father said there wouldn’t be any money in teaching, that the hours would be long, and in the end I wouldn’t be fulfilled. Well, the way I see it, one out of three isn’t bad! My job is fulfilling. I love to teach, I love to coach, and I love the girls. And
as an extra bonus I get to meet great people who open their homes to me on Thanksgiving.”
Allison’s eyes were tearing up again. “I bet your father is proud,” she said, blowing her nose. “I bet he’s so, so proud.”
“All right, Meg,” Jim said. “We’re ready to eat. What are you grateful for this year?”
“What we have together,” Meghan said. “Not everybody has what we have and we have it year-round, not just one day a year.”
Allison’s eyes were streaming by then. “For heaven’s sake, Allison,” Jim roared. “Go get a towel and mop yourself up so we can eat.” Allison snorted through her nose and cried harder.
I picked Meghan up after my rounds ended. My grandmother had called me twice at the hospital to confirm that Meghan was still coming to Thanksgiving dinner. I opened the door to my father’s house and Gramma and Rachel were practically sitting on the doorknob, waiting for us. I sighed and gave them a look, hoping they’d get the hint and back off. They didn’t. I tried to lead Meghan into the house, but Gramma stopped her, taking her coat. “My! What a pretty coat,” she said. “Is that wool?” Meghan nodded. “I love wool. It’s so warm, isn’t it?” I smiled at Gramma’s attempt at small talk. Rachel led Meghan to the sofa. I don’t know why I’m always amazed at the information women are able to pump out of someone in five minutes or less, but watching the process in action always left me in awe. Meghan smiled, but never managed to get out much more than uh-huh or hmm during the grueling interrogation. It didn’t matter though. Gramma had gathered enough information to base her opinion.
“She’s so sweet,” she whispered on her way into the kitchen.
Whatever nerves I had about Meghan meeting my family disappeared at the dinner table. In William’s words, she was charming, and her laugh was infectious, even causing Dad to laugh out loud. She somehow managed to choke down her second Thanksgiving meal of the day, mmming and ohhing after each new thing she tasted.
The Christmas Blessing Page 9