by Jan Elder
I retreated the way I’d come, pausing to stop at a secluded bench to bawl like a newborn who needed a diaper change. Why did I feel so utterly spent in mind, body, and spirit? All cried out, sniffling, I headed to my temporary home to take a nap. I had nothing else to do. It took all my willpower to make it up the stairs. On the way, I stopped three times to catch my breath. Blessed coolness awaited me at Timothy’s place, and I plugged on. Why had I wanted to go outside in the first place? I was never going out again.
I took a few faltering steps into the apartment and fell to my knees. I had neither the ability, nor the desire to get up. Someone groaned, and I had the feeling it was me. Collapsing to the floor, I slid onto my side, cheek pressed against the chilly wood floor. Something warm trickled from my nose and mouth as I faded away.
~*~
When I came to, I wished I hadn’t. The agony was indescribable. Vaguely, I was aware of Timothy carrying me to the bedroom and laying me down on the bed with gentle care. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn his eyes were wet.
Waves of nausea engulfed me, and I struggled not to vomit.
Timothy brought me a basin, covered me with a light blanket, and rubbed my freezing hands. He slipped a pair of socks on my feet, wiped my mouth, and smoothed the hair out of my face. “Your hands and feet are bright red, and you have a rash on your torso, I just pulled your shirt up a little to check. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling so awful? Aw, Shay. Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice broke on the last word.
“Sorry.” It came out as a whisper and I didn’t have the energy to say any more. I peeped under my blouse to see flat purple blisters on my stomach. Disgusting. A sudden fit of coughing wracked my body. I ripped the basin out of Timothy’s hands and threw up, abdomen convulsing.
In between coughing and vomiting fits, I flowed in and out of consciousness. I heard Timothy talking to someone on the phone. The next thing I knew, he’d picked me up again, his strong arms around me, holding me tight to his chest. I was in the car. Oh, I really didn’t want to throw up in his car! Groaning, I held on to the seat, the swaying motion making me woozy. My head thumped with the slightest bounce.
Timothy prayed for me as he drove. He implored God for another chance to take care of me. He cried out, pleading with Jesus to heal me and keep me safe from harm. He begged the Holy Spirit for my life.
I could hear my own voice in my head asking for God’s intervention. I didn’t know what else to say but “help,” but I could feel His presence for the first time in years.
~*~
Bright lights all around me, and heat. I was burning up. Weighed down. I had to get the blankets off me. So very heavy. I flailed, kicking and straining, shaking and sweating. So much pain. My limbs seized, my back arching. A shriek tore from my throat. Awful, all-consuming misery. God! God!
A prick in my arm and drifting, slowly drifting, dizzy with relief, floating away.
White coats. Doctor’s voices in a cold room. Shivering. Murmurs. So many words. Words like shock, low platelet levels, dangerously low blood pressure, blood transfusion, liver failure, brain infection, seizures, mortality rate.
Mortality rate? Me? Were they talking about me?
Timothy. Where was Timothy? Timothy!
His hands gripped mine. His angelic face lingered next to my own, so very near. So very dear. His prayers reached my heart, his presence touched my soul.
His voice, “Please God, don’t take Shay away from me. Make her well. Heal her. Tell her you love her, and hold her close. I’ve been so selfish and only thought about what was best for me. What can I do for her, Lord? Tell me how I can help her. Dear Lord, keep her safe, and take away the dreadful pain. Give her rest. In Your precious name, Amen.” He brushed my forehead with a kiss—soft, warm lips.
A door shut, and then I was alone.
But I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone at all.
Tears fell freely, making tracks on my cheeks. “Lord, don’t let me die. I surrender to You and give you my life. I remember when I was a child. You were there every second of every day and You still are. I know You love me. Please forgive me for being so stubborn. And God, please heal me for Timothy’s sake. I think he needs me, and I might need him. Lord, I’m ready to go. But if I don’t make it, comfort him with Your love.”
15
For the next few days, I faded in and out of awareness. When I woke, Timothy was there by my side. When I fell asleep, he was holding my hand.
I had something called Hemorrhagic Dengue Fever, the most severe form of the disease. My symptoms were typical, and there’d been a recent outbreak in the area. Dengue fever, in particular the type I’d contracted, was nothing to sneeze at, and a vile mosquito had caused it all. The best news, though, was that my illness was not contagious. Timothy was safe.
Now, I was in the “recovery phase,” but still hooked up to numerous monitors to ensure I didn’t relapse. Pneumonia was a common complication, as was myocarditis, infection of the heart. Scary stuff. All I knew was, I’d never hurt so much in my life.
Timothy told me that by the time he’d transported me to Manila Makati Medical, my fever was 106 degrees. I’d been wheeled into the ER with a thready pulse, a blood pressure reading that barely registered, and cold, blue lips. Deep in shock, I was in desperate need of a transfusion. The doctors were amazed I was still alive.
It was a relief to be free from the ICU, safe in my quiet room. My left arm remained tethered to an IV, medicinal cocktails galore soaking into my veins. With the excellent painkillers a nice nurse shot into me on a regular basis, I felt almost human, again.
What I didn’t understand was why I was receiving such excellent care. My high-tech hospital bed sat in a huge private room, which included a seating area for guests, and a spotless private bathroom. While lying on my comfortable bed, I could see a pleasant courtyard down below. When Timothy wasn’t “on duty,” Nurse Merisol Flores, Meri for short, was on the job. She was kind, caring, efficient, and knowledgeable. I didn’t have any idea what my health insurance covered, but I knew it wouldn’t pay for this luxurious suite.
Last night, I’d given Timothy permission to take a day off from being my constant companion. Since he’d insisted on coming to see me tonight, I asked Nurse Meri to help me take a shower and wash my hair. It was heaven to be fresh and clean.
It was even better to experience that fresh, clean sensation in my soul. The last few days I’d been spending some quality time with God. I didn’t know where I was heading, but my view of the world was very different. Good different.
Timothy had left me some magazines and a book. I burrowed in bed and contented myself with reading a Christian romance novel. I had no strength to do much of anything, but who knew a “wholesome” book could be so engrossing?
I was staring out the window at a bird in a banana tree when someone knocked at the door.
Timothy moseyed in with an air of mystery on his face and a box behind his back. “Hey. I have a present for you. Shut your eyes and keep them shut until I say you can open them.”
“A present? I love presents.” I squeezed my eyes tight. I did love gifts, both the giving and the receiving.
“Hold out your hands, close together, palms up.” Timothy was whispering soft words I couldn’t quite catch. He placed something small and nearly weightless in my hands. Tiny and…furry. I quivered with excitement as I recognized the extraordinary hum of a faint purr. “OK, open your eyes and meet Lois.”
“A kitten! Oh Timothy!” I gazed at the precious black and white scrap of fur and cuddled her against my cheek. She was so soft, her fur as fluffy as duck down, her eyes a light blue. Slanting her elfin head, she sniffed my nose, and licked the tip. She was purring, her miniature heart beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. She was perfect…except…except she had no tail.
“Is she a Manx? Or maybe a Japanese Bobtail?” That would make more sense taking into account our proximity to Japan.
Timothy flinched
and crossed his arms. “No. The day you flew into town, Bayani called me up to the guardhouse. He’d heard frantic mews outside the gate, but, of course, he couldn’t leave his post. When I got there, I found something appalling. On the side of the road lay a murdered mother cat, and her three squalling kittens, all with their tails cut off.”
My brows shot up in horror as I clutched the kitten closer. “Who would do such a despicable thing?”
“I’m guessing it was someone with a lot of mental issues. Or maybe a gang member. There are all sorts of sickening initiation rites. Anyway, I brought them all back to the guardhouse. Bayani volunteered to bury the mother, and I scooped up the three kittens and drove them to a vet.”
“Is that where you were when Danilo picked me up at the airport?” Could there have been a better reason not to greet me himself? He’d been on a mission of mercy.
“Yes, but I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”
“Couldn’t be helped. What happened to the other kittens?” I settled Lois on my lap and stroked the silky white fur between her ears. I checked the abbreviated nub of a tail, glad to see she was healing well.
“The vet gave me some kitten formula and showed me how to feed the babies. We didn’t have much hope because they were malnourished to begin with, and I’m sorry to say, the other two didn’t make it. Lois now, Lois is a piglet and sucks up as much formula as I can give her. I have to be careful not to over-feed her.”
He pulled up a chair and sat near the bed, reaching over to pet the black spots on the kitten’s back. For a big man, he had a light, soothing touch and the “piglet” mewed and leaned into his hand. I snickered with delight. “She thinks you’re her mother.”
He gave me a satisfied smile. “Just call me Momma Tim.”
“And all those times you had an “errand” to run, you were feeding the kittens?” I was proud I’d figured it out despite my medicated brain.
“Uh huh. Jemma volunteered to assist. Before she switched majors in college, she’d wanted to be a vet. I roped Danilo into service, too.”
No wonder both of them had been glancing at me as if they had a secret. “Then you and Jemma aren’t an item?” Sheesh. I hadn’t meant to say that.
“What? Wherever did you get such a notion?”
I mumbled, “Never mind. Guess I was wrong.”
Timothy was so close I could breathe in his scent, a heady mixture of Italian aftershave and warm kitten. “Yes. You were wrong. Jemma’s like a little sister to me. Besides, she’s not my type.”
“And what is your type?” Did that cheesy line topple out of my mouth? I blamed my blabbermouth on the drugs.
Timothy pushed some strands of hair off my face, and tucked them behind my ear. “My type is you.”
Aww. Corral my galloping heart! It seemed he’d conquered some of his shyness. I brushed away an errant tear—what was wrong with me these days—and, with great reluctance, moved his hand back to the kitten. Changing the subject, I managed to say, “How old is the kitty, and why did you name her Lois?”
“The vet calculated the kittens were perhaps four weeks old despite being so undersized. In a day or two, she graduates to regular kitten chow. As to why I call her Lois, the name means “superior,” and I happen to think she’s special.” He cradled the baby cat in his huge hands and lifted her onto his chest. I watched as she cozied into his caress. “But there’s another reason.”
“And that would be?”
“Isn’t Lois Lane the name of Superman’s girlfriend?”
“Yes.”
“And isn’t your cat in Maryland named Clark Kent?”
How did he know? Oh yes, the “leisure pursuits” section of the application. “Uh huh, but I don’t quite see…and why was she a secret, anyway?” Did Timothy want me to keep the furry bundle of joy? I was leaving as soon as I recovered from this tiresome fever. Wasn’t I?
He peered down at me through black lashes. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted her to be a surprise wedding gift. I figured we’d be bringing Clark over from the States, and they could be buddies. I know it was rather presumptuous of me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Timothy, what a sweet thing to do, but I don’t know quite what to say.” I honestly didn’t have a clue, and I was too tired to think straight. My eyelids started to droop as a wave of lethargy swept over me. I sank back down in the bed and rested my head on my pillow.
“You’re bushed. Let’s say we continue this discussion tomorrow.”
I fought to stifle a yawn. “OK.”
“Before I go, could I ask you to think about something?”
“Sure. What?”
He drew my hand up to his mouth and brushed my wrist with a gentle kiss. “Shay, I want you to stay here in the Philippines, with me.” He stared at me with smoky eyes so intense a thrill skated through me. If I weren’t so tired, I’d be craving more of his touch…and his lips. He picked up Lois Lane and stashed her back in the travel-sized shoebox lined with one of his own t-shirts. Leaning over, he gave me a quick kiss goodbye. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Pleasant dreams.”
Before sliding even further under the covers, I watched as he and my new kitten ambled out the door.
16
“Shay? Are you up to visitors?” Nurse Meri came through the doorway carrying my breakfast. Behind her trailed a welcome guest—a short, gray-haired, much-loved, Filipino woman.
“Imelda! I’m so happy to see you.” My friend sprinted to my side and grasped my face between her palms. Her gaze scanned me up, down, and sideways. I was glad I’d brushed my teeth.
“You’re still not feeling very well, are you?” She fussed with my blankets and dragged a heavy chair over next to me—not an easy feat for such a small woman. “Dengue fever! Now why’d you have to go and catch such a ghastly illness?”
I shook my head and tried not to wince at the sudden motion. “You’re right. I should have given it more consideration before I let the nasty old mosquito bite me, huh? Whatever was I thinking?”
I lifted the lid on my breakfast tray and whimpered with dismay. Scrambled eggs, again, and not one lousy sliver of bacon in sight. I grabbed my fork and swished the bland mess around my plate. “How’d you know I was here?”
“Eat your breakfast. Brianna called me this morning. Timothy’s been sending her daily e-mails on your progress, and she was hoping I could visit.” How did Timothy get Brianna’s e-mail address? Oh yeah. I’d listed her as my emergency contact. “I’m glad you did, and that was nice of Timothy. Contacting Brianna hadn’t occurred to me yet, I’m ashamed to say.” I tried a tiny forkful of the eggs and gagged.
“No need to be ashamed, dear.” Imelda dragged her chair closer. “From what I hear, you’ve been a mighty sick girl for days. Brianna wanted to jump on a plane as soon as she heard, but Timothy promised her he’d look out for you, and that he’d call her if she was needed.”
“He’s been a rock.”
“I promised her I’d check in on you and give her a status report. I also told her I’d be happy to take care of you, and she needn’t worry. And I meant it.”
“Take care of me?” I picked up a limp piece of toast and let it drop back on the plate. No butter, much less jam.
“Sure. According to Nurse Flores, you’ll be ready to leave in a day or two. However, total recovery time is measured in weeks. You’re going to need some TLC to get your strength back, so you’re coming home with me. Did I mention that before I retired, I was a nurse?”
“No you didn’t mention it.” How fortuitous. God’s perfect timing in those proverbial mysterious ways.
“The last hospital I worked at was George Washington in DC. We didn’t get too many cases of dengue fever, though.” With a charming chuckle, she recounted some of her escapades as a nurse.
It hadn’t crossed my mind what I’d be doing when I left the hospital. “I assumed I’d be going back to the seminary until I’m well enough to fly home.”
“And let that ha
ndsome man be your nursemaid? I don’t think so. I doubt you’ll want him checking your vitals and changing your sheets.”
“Good point, but I couldn’t foist myself on you. You hardly know me. And I couldn’t impose on your family.”
“Any family of my son’s wife is family of mine. In addition, I’m staying in an in-law suite, so I have my own space. The bottom line is I’ll have no argument.” She beamed at me and bounced those curls.
We were discussing the details of my imminent departure when Timothy arrived.
Imelda’s eyes almost jumped out of her head when she got a load of my missionary man. Anyone Timothy married would have to get used to having women fawn all over him. Women of all ages.
“Timothy, this is Imelda de la Rosa, Brianna’s mother-in-law. Imelda, this is Dr. Timothy Flynn.”
Timothy strode over and extended his hand to shake, but Imelda would have none of it. She wrapped him in a mama-bear hug. “Dr. Flynn, the sight of such a fine-looking man could raise a girl’s blood pressure to dangerous heights. Nice to meet you.”
His grin couldn’t have gotten any wider. “I like this woman. Nice to meet you, too, Imelda de la Rosa, Brianna’s mother-in-law. Shay’s filled me in on how much she enjoys your company. Did I hear you live in Luzon?”
"I’m visiting family in Quezon City.” The two jabbered on in Tagalog, only pausing every now and then to glance over at me and snicker. They spoke my name, but I had no idea what they were saying. I hoped it was good.
Eventually, they broke off and had the good grace to lower their heads, chagrinned expressions on their faces.
“Sorry,” said Timothy.
“Sorry,” echoed Imelda.
“Imelda’s been telling me you plan to recuperate at her home. Good idea. And we were talking about the palengke—the open market. She’s going to buy you all kinds of healthy food to help you feel better.”