by Jane Peart
“Oh, Evan, they’re just casual acquaintances. They were in one of my classes; I saw them on campus. I never went out with any of them.” Joy felt awkward having to explain this, but it seemed important to Evan.
“I’m a lot older than you,” Evan said.
“Evan, I never gave that a thought. It doesn’t matter. I enjoy being with you, unless—” She paused.
“Unless what?”
“Unless you think I’m too young for you?”
His expression made her dissolve into laughter.
“Not in the least,” he said. “I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t—” Evan hesitated. “I really missed you while you were gone, Joy. How much even surprised me. Every time I passed the solarium, I found myself looking in, expecting to see you, and when I realized you weren’t there—that you were a hundred miles away—it was then…” His voice trailed off. “Joy, I can’t tell you what getting to know you has meant to me,” he said quietly. “For a long time I’ve been unhappy, restless. Nothing I did or had or tried seemed to satisfy me. Until lately. Since I’ve met you and we’ve spent time together, that emptiness I used to feel is somehow gone.”
Not knowing exactly what to say, Joy murmured, “If that’s true, I’m glad.”
“I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable by telling you this. I didn’t mean to do that. I just wanted you to know.”
Joy was silent.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said softly. He put his hand on her chin, raised her face, and kissed her lightly, then turned and went quickly down the steps.
chapter
13
AT NOON ON MONDAY, Joy was seated at a table at the small Mexican restaurant where she and Gayle occasionally had lunch. It was their favorite place to eat, since it was near the hospital and both of them enjoyed the good food and quiet atmosphere.
That morning Gayle had caught Joy at the elevator as she was waiting to go up. “Can you meet me for lunch?” she had asked. “I have something to show you.”
Gayle’s unusually excited expression had made Joy curious, and she suggested the Adobe.
Now, watching Gayle as she arrived, Joy thought again that with her looks and regal carriage, Gayle could have been a high-fashion model.
As soon as they had ordered tacos, Gayle reached into her large shoulder bag and brought out a small, square, Zip-locked bag and handed it to Joy. It was a sepia daguerreotype of a black woman in a turban and a ruffled apron, holding in her lap a fair-haired little white boy about two years old.
“Who is this?” asked Joy.
“Look on the back.”
Joy turned it over. Printed in block letters were the words “Baby Jonathan and me. Miss Rose give to me in 1860. Montclair Plantation, Mayfield, Virginia.”
“How did you get this?”
“It belonged to my Great-Great-Grandmother Tilda. My mother showed it to me this weekend when I was home. I told her about you and how we met, about what you were doing at Good Sam’s, and about the painting and your grandfather and all. Mom said Grandma Tilda always had this picture displayed in her house. She was an old woman when my mother was a little girl, but evidently she had been the nurse to this little boy. She must have loved him and his mother very much to cherish this picture all these years.”
“Montclair, Mayfield, Virginia,” Joy repeated.
The two stared at each other for a long time. Then Gayle said, “I know from the black history course I took in college that after emancipation, many freed slaves took the last names of their former masters, since slaves had been given only first names. That must be what happened to Tilda and her family. They came north from Virginia after the Civil War and took the name Montrose.”
Joy held the picture, looking at it for a long time. It was like looking into the past, into another world, another time. Then she looked at Gayle. “You realize, don’t you, Gayle, that we have a common background? All those years ago. Isn’t it wonderful and meaningful that our paths happened to cross at Good Samaritan and we became friends?”
Later when Joy went back to her painting, her mind was totally preoccupied with thoughts brought by the image of that old picture. Who was Miss Rose, the woman who gave it to Gayle’s great-great-grandmother? Who was baby Jonathan? And what about Tilda herself, who as a young woman seemed to have been so important in the lives of these people? How did it all relate to her own family history, to the father she had never known, Lt. (jg) Beaumont Montrose?
Joy determined that the next time she went to Molly’s, she would ask her what she knew about the Montrose family, into which Molly’s cousin Anne had married.
Evan’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Want to take a break, join me for coffee?”
She looked up at him. “No, thanks, I can’t. I need to keep working.”
He looked disappointed so she rushed on. “There is something I’d like to ask you, though.”
“Ask.”
“Would you do something for me?”
“Sure. You want me to bring you back a cup from the cafeteria?”
“No, it’s…well…” All at once Joy decided now was the time to ask. “Would you pose for me?”
He looked startled. “Pose?”
“Yes, for one of the panels.”
“You mean for the mural, the healing miracles mural? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. I’m serious. I’ve thought about it a lot, and you’d be a perfect centurion.”
“A what?”
“A Roman army officer. They called them centurions. They were occupying Israel at the time of Jesus. The Jews were a conquered people.”
Evan’s expression was one of both bewilderment and discomfort.
Joy hastened to offset his protest. “Oh, Evan, don’t say no. I’ve looked and looked, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are definitely the right person.”
He raised one eyebrow quizzically. “What would I have to wear, some sort of toga or—”
“Oh no, nothing like that. All you’d have to do is pose. I could paint on the appropriate costume later. And anyway, it would be more a plumed helmet sort of thing.” She began to laugh at his doubtful grimace. “It will be practically painless, I promise.”
“But what does this fellow have to do with the miracles? Did he have some kind of illness, or was he wounded in battle?”
“Evan, you mean you don’t…you’ve never heard about—” She stopped short. It seemed incredible to her that Evan was unfamiliar with this well-known incident in the Bible. However, she knew that the worst thing to do would be to embarrass him, so she said tactfully, “Wait a minute. I’ll read the account of this. It’s very short.” She got up from her stool and dug into her tote bag for the pocket-size paperback edition of the New Testament she always carried with her.
“It’s in the account written by Matthew, one of Jesus’ disciples and an eyewitness to the miracles. Here’s what he wrote about the centurion. Chapter 8, starting at verse 5.”
As Joy read, Evan listened attentively.
When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came to him, asking for help. “Lord,” he said, “my servant lies at home paralyzed and in terrible suffering.”
Jesus said to him, “I will go and heal him.”
The centurion replied, “Lord, I do not deserve to have you come under my roof. But just say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I myself am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. I tell this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and that one, ‘Come,’ and he comes. I say to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”
When Jesus heard this, he was astonished and said to those following him, “I tell you the truth, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith.…”
Then Jesus said to the centurion, “Go! It will be done just as you believed it would.” And his servant was healed at that very hour.
Joy finished reading and looked at Evan for his answer.
From his expression she could not tell what he was
thinking, what he might say. He remained quiet, as though he were considering the matter. Then he smiled. “All right, for you I’ll do it. I’ll be your centurion. I may live to regret it, but I’ll do it.”
Evan did not want to pose at the hospital, despite Joy’s assurance that once she added the centurion costume, no one would recognize the finished figure. She simply wanted to paint Evan’s profile under the plumed helmet. However, to satisfy him they scheduled his modeling sessions for weekends at her place.
He was an impatient, restless model.
“You’re worse than a child,” Joy told him with pretended annoyance one day. “Debbie was a dream compared to you!” She threw down her pencil and closed her sketchbook.
“I thought you told me you read to her while she was posing. I don’t get that treatment,” Evan accused.
“Wrong. She read to me,” Joy retorted.
“Well, where’s the book? I’ll read to you and see if it goes any better.”
“The Velveteen Rabbit?” Joy scoffed.
“You said it has a powerful message for adults.”
“So it has. Maybe that would be a good idea.”
“Next time. We’re going to dinner now,” he announced.
Evan always insisted on taking her somewhere after the hour-long session was over. As the weeks went by, Joy realized they were spending more and more time together. They did things like going to a cinema that featured foreign films and classic movies, browsing in secondhand bookstores and record shops, patronizing an ice cream parlor, or sometimes just walking in the park. Simple things. Just the kind of things that lovers did together. With a shock Joy realized that was exactly what Ginny Stratton had accused her of doing.
Was she falling in love? Were they falling in love?
chapter
14
BY THE SECOND WEEK in December, the atmosphere at the hospital began to change. Christmas trees were set up on each floor, the nurses’ stations were decorated, and Christmas music floated through the halls constantly. A subtle undercurrent of anticipation was tangible among the staff as they went about their duties. Nurses, orderlies, and LVNs all wore, pinned on their uniforms, bright little Christmas corsages made by the medical auxiliary.
Babies born during December were sent home in scarlet stocking buntings and little caps made by the Pink Lady volunteers. The hospital’s gift shop was busier than ever. Florists made twice as many deliveries, bearing bright red, pink, or white poinsettias for patients.
On December 23, Santa Claus visited the pediatrics wing, and the air rang with the happy sound of children’s excited voices and laughter.
A Christmas party for the doctors, nurses, and staff of the fourth floor was planned for five o’clock on Christmas Eve. Joy had received one of the few invitations extended to those who were not regular hospital personnel. Things were too hectic for her to work on the panels that day, so she stayed home and trimmed her tiny tree, decorated her apartment, and wrapped presents. She had asked Molly to handwrite in calligraphy the poem “Hyacinths for the Soul” to give to Gayle. She had bought Evan a copy of Medusa and the Snail, a book of essays by Lewis Thomas, a doctor-author. She debated about another gift she had for him. It was a watercolor of the road through autumn woods leading up to his cabin. She had painted it from sketches she’d made that day. Was it too personal, a reminder of all they had talked about—his telling her about Susan, his saying how much she herself had come to mean to him? Joy wrapped it anyway, thinking she would decide later whether or not to give it to him.
At four o’clock she dressed for the party. She had bent her budget a little by buying a new dress she had seen in a window at Shelton’s, even though her employee discount was no longer in effect. She soothed her conscience somewhat by assuring herself that the dress would stay in style for years. It was dark green velvet with an empire waist and long fitted sleeves. She swept her hair up in a French twist and slipped on jade earrings. The effect was dramatic—she was sure no one at the hospital had ever seen her look so sophisticated.
Some of the staff were already at the party when Joy arrived. The staff lounge had been transformed by festive decorations. A tall tree sparkling with ornaments and lights dominated the room, and underneath its branches were piles of gaily wrapped gifts, all of which cost ten dollars or less. Each gift was tagged with the gender of the recipient. A drawing had been held to determine which type of gift to buy, and Joy’s slip of paper had read, “Male.” Her gift was a silk tie on which she had hand-painted a design. Secretly she hoped Evan would get it, but if not, she planned to paint another one especially for him.
She looked around for Gayle, Ginny, Aris, or Evan, but apparently none of them had come yet. She placed her present under the tree among the many others to be given out when Santa made his appearance.
Spotting Sister Mary Hope, Joy headed her way. They had hardly started to chat when Evan entered the room.
Joy’s heart gave an unexpected leap when she saw him. Its pounding was so loud and fast, she wondered that with all the doctors in the room, one of them didn’t rush to treat her for cardiac arrest.
Then Evan’s sweeping glance around the room caught her, and he smiled and strode toward her. His eyes took her in, and he said in a low voice, “You look sensational. As soon as we can leave, I want to take you somewhere and show you off.”
“But I’m leaving after this, Evan. I’m catching the nine o’clock bus down to Molly’s. Have you forgotten? I’m spending Christmas with her.”
He consulted his wristwatch. “That’s four hours from now. There’ll be plenty of time for us to eat dinner, and then I’ll drive you to the bus station. All right?”
She felt too happy to say more than, “Fine.”
“I guess I’d better mingle a little, destroy my reputation of being cold and aloof.” He kept a straight face but his eyes were mischievous.
Joy pretended to be amazed. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“Wasn’t that your first impression?”
“I think I was too dizzy to have any clear impression,” she said, laughing as she remembered their collision that first day.
Evan laughed, too, then looked at her with tender amusement. Under the rising buzz of conversation in the room, he said in a low tone, “I’ll make my social rounds, and then as soon as we can, we’ll make our getaway.”
The party crowd changed constantly as people came and left, going on or coming off various shifts of duty. Holiday greetings were exchanged against a background of Christmas music. Santa Claus made his appearance, and gifts were handed out amid much merriment. Things were still underway when Evan appeared again at Joy’s side. He waited with some impatience for her to finish talking with one of the interns, then took her arm, saying, “I think it will be okay for us to leave now. I doubt if anyone will miss us.”
They walked out from the hospital’s overheated warmth into the cold, star-studded night and hurried to the physician’s parking lot. As Evan got out his car keys, Joy was shivering, her teeth chattering a little.
“You’re freezing!” he said. He grabbed her hands, then scolded, “You forgot your gloves.” With that he slipped both her hands into the pockets of his fleece-lined jacket. Inside, one of Joy’s fingers felt something small, square, wrapped in slick paper, tied with stiff ribbon.
Evan chuckled. “That’s for you. A little Christmas present. Wait until we get in the car, and you can open it.”
He opened the car door, helped her inside, then ran around and got in the driver’s side. He turned on both the heater and the overhead light before handing her a tiny box wrapped in gold foil with a gilded bow.
She carefully tugged at the wrapping, and as the paper fell back, she saw that it was a small jewelry box. “Oh, Evan,” she breathed. She almost said the cliché “You shouldn’t have” but stopped just in time.
“Go ahead, open it.”
“Evan, I hope—,” she said hesitantly.
“Joy, just open it.”
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She lifted the box lid and saw nestled in the cotton a tiny honeybee pin, its body fashioned in alternate stripes of citrine and black enamel, its wings made of seed pearls.
“Like it?” Evan’s voice was boyishly hopeful.
“Like it? I love it. It’s exquisite, but—” She halted, and there was anxiety in her voice when she continued. “I’m not sure I should accept it.”
“Why not, for Pete’s sake?”
“Well, it must have been very expensive, and—”
“I can afford it,” he said indulgently.
“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”
“Appropriate? Come on, Joy, you must be kidding. What would you consider an appropriate gift? A gift certificate to an art supply store?”
She had to laugh at the incredulous tone in his voice. “Why, Evan, how did you guess?”
“Look, it wasn’t all that expensive. Anyway, I couldn’t resist it. The minute I saw it in the jeweler’s display window, it had your name on it. I had to get it for you. It’s more than a Christmas present, Joy. It’s a symbol of your faith,” he said, then added, “which I envy.”
“It’s not to be envied, Evan,” she said quietly. “It’s available to everyone.”
Evan didn’t reply. He leaned forward and turned on the ignition. “Please, just wear it and enjoy it.”
“Thank you, Evan,” Joy said and pinned it on her lapel.
After stopping at Joy’s car to grab her suitcase, her Christmas gift for Molly, and her canvas tote bag, they drove to the Edelweiss, a darkly paneled restaurant which had an alcoved fireplace and an intimate atmosphere and which specialized in Swiss food. On this holiday eve it was nearly deserted. Evan had ordered ahead and they were served promptly. The meal was simple but delicious, a cheese fondue and for dessert an apple strudel.
While they were having coffee, Joy said shyly, “I have something for you, Evan.” From her tote bag she drew out the package she had wrapped for him in paper she had designed herself and placed it on the table. He looked at her, amused at her demeanor.