All He'll Ever Need

by Loree Lough

  Phillip watched her disappear around the corner, remembering how earlier that day, he’d caught a glimpse of himself while washing up in the tiny hospital bathroom. “You look as tired as you feel,” he’d told his reflection.

  But he wouldn’t rest. Couldn’t rest. Not until the surgeon assured him that Gabe’s operation had been a success.

  Chapter Nine

  “What do you mean, I cannot go with you?”

  Eyes on the road, he said, “You’ve already done so much, with very little sleep and not much to eat.”

  “That is a poor excuse if ever I heard one. You know as well as I that I have never been one who needs much sleep.”

  His little speech had come as close to the truth as he cared to get. He tried a different tack.

  “Gabe will need you more than ever after he’s released from the hospital, so it’s important that you take care of yourself.”

  What were the chances that her silence meant she understood . . . and agreed?

  “You can fool yourself, but you cannot fool me. You cannot fool God, either. Admit it. You are looking for ways to spend time alone with the doctor, and Gabe has nothing to do with it.”

  He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles ached. “Maemm . . .”

  “I prayed about it. In the chapel. I think I understand why you are drawn to her.”

  Oh, this oughta be good, he thought.

  “You changed after losing Rebecca.”

  The changes in him predated his wife’s death, by years.

  “Dr. White is good at what she does. Her findings have brought you some comfort, some hope that because of her involvement, Gabe can be cured.”

  True, on both counts.

  “Even I can admit that she is easy on the eyes, that her voice borders on mesmerizing. And the way she looks at you?” Again, Sarah clucked her tongue. “But Phillip, these are not reasons to draw closer to her. She is not a suitable replacement for Rebecca.”

  He’d never given a thought to replacing his wife, not even with a born and bred Pleasant Valley woman.

  “Maemm, how many times do I have to say it? Gabe is the only connection between Dr. White and me.”

  “No one wants to see you happy again more than me. But no good can come of lying to yourself, Son. It’s true that you have strayed from our ways of late, but you are still Amish. You will always be Amish. Many changes have taken place in Pleasant Valley during the past few decades.” She counted on her fingers. “Electricity. Telephones. Plumbing. Gasoline-powered vehicles. Some in the community have televisions. Radios. Computers and the Internet! But we are still Plain, far too Plain for the likes of Dr. White.”

  “I hate to sound trite, but aren’t you putting the cart before the horse? Dr. White has never shown any personal interest in me.”

  Memory of that magnificent moment in the hospital hallway proved otherwise. He recalled the way she’d leaned into him, soft sighs drifting into his ears, big caring heart drumming against his chest. Phillip had kissed just two other women in his lifetime. Martha King, and Rebecca. Secret interactions with Martha, while pleasant enough, had never roused feelings of love. Her impatience to become a wife and mother had led her to marry Jonah Lamb. Rebecca, on the other hand, never truly warmed to Phillip’s touch, not even after becoming Mrs. Baker. Her stiff response to physical contact of any kind always left him feeling like some sort of degenerate. Had he responded so differently to Emily because he was older and wiser now? Were his reactions rooted in gratitude for all she was doing for Gabe? Or proof that he’d strayed so far from God that worldly urges had taken control of him?

  “We should stop at Hannah’s,” he said, mostly to get his mind off Emily and that perfect kiss.

  “Why? So she can babysit me while you are in Baltimore?”

  “I could be gone for weeks. You shouldn’t be alone that long—even though you can get by on no sleep and skipped meals.”

  “Weeks? But Dr. White said the operation would only last a few hours, and that the surgeon would only keep Gabe in the hospital for several days.”

  “She also told us that, should complications arise, it could take two, even three times longer.”

  “Oh. Yes. I do remember that.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her lower her head.

  “Pray with me, Phillip.”

  His mother was fighting tears. He could tell by her gruff, gravelly voice.

  “Stop this truck and pray with me, right now.”

  He found a suitable place to pull over. Once he’d shifted to park, she struggled to unbuckle her seat belt.

  “Stupid, maddening contraptions!” she complained. “If more people just trusted the Lord to keep them safe, we would not need laws that force us to use them!” With the buckle in her lap, Sarah added, “Yet another reason it was wrong to leave the old ways behind. We did not need seat belts in our buggies.”

  Phillip snorted. “As usual, you’ve conveniently forgotten how many children suffered when frightened horses reared up, spilling them onto the road. Those that survived impact with the asphalt often suffered permanent head injury. And what about those who were run over by cars that didn’t have time to stop?”

  “As usual? Why, listening to you, one would get the idea that I habitually stretch the truth.” She faced forward. “Now, let us pray.”

  Phillip rested both hands on the steering wheel as she began:

  “O Lord, we ask You to comfort us during this time of distress. Forgive our doubts, and the anger that separates us from You. We faithfully ask You, O Father, to help us set a good example for Gabriel, so that he will grow into a man who honors You with his words and with his actions. Watch over him, heal him, bring him home to us, soon. We ask these things, believing You have heard and will answer according to Your will. Amen.”

  She fell silent, and Phillip sensed that his mother expected him to fill that silence with a prayer of his own. Instead, he said, “Easy to see why the bishop discourages women from praying aloud during services.”

  “Oh?”

  “Your words would put him and all the elders to shame.”

  Her quiet laughter didn’t last long. Fiddling with the seat belt again, she shook her fist. “Stupid, maddening contraptions!” Sarah repeated.

  Phillip put the truck into drive and eased into traffic on Route 219. His plan was simple: Stop at his sister’s house and bring her up to date, then take his mother home where, hopefully, she’d pack enough clothing to stay a few nights with Hannah, Eli, and the boys. He’d pack, too, and once he’d safely delivered her back to Hannah’s, he’d make his way to the hospital to hear Emily’s thoughts about the trip to Baltimore.

  Something his mother had said earlier came to mind . . . that he was leaving her home to spend time alone with Emily. She hadn’t been right about that, but then, she hadn’t been wrong, either. Almost without exception, Gabe dozed off within the first ten minutes of a drive. After days of nurses and lab techs waking him every few hours, he’d probably fall asleep in two minutes, and sleep all the way to Johns Hopkins.

  “Where will you sleep in Baltimore, Son?”

  “In Gabe’s room, of course.”

  “What about meals?”

  “I’m sure the hospital has a cafeteria. And I can probably order meals from the kitchen, just like at Garrett Regional, that’ll be delivered with Gabe’s trays. When he’s allowed a regular diet.”

  “What do you mean, a regular diet?”

  “Emily . . . Dr. White explained that his meals may be somewhat restricted at first.”

  “Oh fine. Just when he will need healthy food the most, they will deprive him of it?”

  “Only for a day or two.”

  “Well, since you’ve made up your mind, I will have to accept it.”

  The insinuation wasn’t lost on Phillip. His mother had made it clear that she opposed the operation, and he’d decided to go ahead with it anyway. This wasn’t the time or place to revisit the subject,
so he said, “The food won’t be anywhere near as good as your cooking, but I’ll accept it.”

  She ignored his feeble attempt at a joke. “And Dr. White? Where will she sleep?”

  And there it was, the real reason she’d begun this line of questioning.

  “She said something about making use of intern and resident quarters at the hospital.”

  “Still,” Sarah said, “I will pray that you will not be tempted to sin.”

  Memory of that kiss resurfaced. Phillip shifted in his seat and ground his molars together. It wasn’t likely they’d be alone long enough for a repeat, but if the opportunity presented itself, would he—

  Suddenly, the road sign for the lane leading to Hannah’s came into view, and Phillip jerked the steering wheel, spewing grit and gravel as he swerved into the drive.

  “Phillip!” Sarah shouted, gripping the dash. “Where is your mind!” A brief pause, and then, “As if I didn’t know . . .”

  “Sorry, Maemm.”

  “Fix your eyes on God,” she said, repositioning herself in the passenger seat. “He will release you from this hold Dr. White has on you.”

  His mother had made several good points, there was no denying it, and until he figured out a few things, it might be best to keep his mind off Emily.

  He parked the truck as Hannah turned from the clothesline.

  “What are you doing here!” she called, waving as Phillip helped their mother exit the vehicle.

  The instant Sarah’s feet hit the gravel driveway, she wriggled free of Phillip’s grasp.

  “Gabe and Phillip are leaving for Baltimore in the morning. Your brother does not want me there, and because he thinks I am too old and feeble to be left on my own, he hopes to palm me off on you. That,” she said, “is why we are here.”

  “Maemm, that isn’t true, and you know it.”

  Hannah wrapped Sarah in a welcoming hug. “We would love to have you,” she said, “but if you would rather not, we are happy to look in on you at your own home from time to time.”

  In either case, his spirited mother would be fine on her own. And a few days free from her pessimism sounded good, real good to Phillip. He tensed and waited for the cutting remark that would surely follow his sister’s offer.

  “I have no home. I gave up my home when Rebecca died, remember?”

  She’d directed her glare and cutting remark his way, but even if she hadn’t, Phillip couldn’t deny the truth of it. He started to tell her that his home was hers, and always would be, when his sister loosed a squeal of disapproval.

  This time, it was Hannah who said, “Maemm! That isn’t true, and you know it! Phillip and Gabe have always considered it your home, too.”

  She ignored their mother’s reproachful sniff.

  “When you said you might like to raise chickens, Phillip built you a chicken coop, and bought you fat hens, did he not?”

  Sarah fiddled with the fraying straps of the handstitched tote that held her knitting gear.

  “And when you wanted to grow vegetables, he plowed up half the backyard, bought every plant you asked for, helped you put them in the ground, then built a fence to protect the plants from rabbits and deer, right?”

  She didn’t wait for their mother to respond but continued with, “He made sure you had jars and lids and a canning kettle, dug a root cellar so you could store what you grew, too, because he knew how you longed to put up the things you grew. Rearranged the parlor so that your favorite rocker would fit better beside the woodstove and replaced the mattress that once caused your backaches with something brand-new. And to make room for your favorite tables and chairs, he got rid of his own—things he had built and bought for Rebecca! So if you do not feel it is your home, too”—Hannah’s arms lifted, and she let them slap against her sides—“then I do not know what to say!”

  A blush crept into their mother’s cheeks, and Phillip felt bad for her. Gabe’s health-related issues hadn’t been easy on her, either, particularly given her feelings about doctors, hospitals, and modern medicine.

  “We should probably get back on the road,” he told her. “I need to go to the bank and withdraw some money for the trip, make a few calls to customers, and throw a spare shirt and trousers into a bag.” After all his sister had just said, he didn’t have the heart to ask if his mother preferred to stay at the house or come with him to pack a few things to bring to Hannah’s.

  “Go,” Hannah said, giving him a gentle shove. “She will be fine, right here. The boys will love having her, and she can come with me to the shop. Maemm and I are the same size, so she is welcome to wear my clothes.”

  “No,” Sarah said, “I will go home.”

  Was it his imagination? Or had she put a little extra emphasis on the last word?

  “And that,” she added, “is where I will stay.”

  Phillip had expected her to pick up the interrogation right where she’d left off.

  He’d been wrong. Instead, she talked about the weather, and how dry it had been these past weeks. It made her even more grateful, she added, that he’d installed a spigot on the well and attached a long hose to it, because watering her garden was faster and easier now.

  Once in the house, Sarah rushed around opening curtains and windows to let in the fresh air, then set about brewing a pot of coffee.

  “When did you last eat?” she asked.

  Realizing she was looking for things to occupy her hands—and probably her mind—he admitted that he wasn’t hungry.

  “I will make sandwiches,” she said, “some for now, some that you can eat on the road tomorrow.”

  Phillip stood beside her and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thank you, Maemm. I’ll be in the workshop, making calls to customers. I won’t be long. I promise.”

  “They will understand. Once you explain your reasons for delivering their engines late.”

  During recent conversations, his customers had all wished Gabe well, and said things like “Family comes first,” and “Try to forget about work.”

  Now, one by one, they repeated their well wishes, and he left the shop feeling confident that the business would survive, despite time missed.

  When he returned to the kitchen, he found Sarah bent over the table, weeping softly.

  He went to her, and squatting beside her chair, took her hands in his. “Maemm, what is it?”

  “I didn’t say a proper good-bye to Gabe,” she said around a sob. “What if . . . what if . . .”

  What if the worst happened, he finished mentally, and she never saw the boy again.

  “As I recall, you covered him with his favorite quilt before we left. The one you made for his first birthday.” He squeezed her hands. “I’ve lost count of the times he fell asleep, hugging it, as if it could hug him back. Besides, you asked for God’s blessing on him. He will do well.”

  She wriggled free of his grasp, used one corner of her apron to dry her eyes. “I will ask Hannah to take me to the hospital again tomorrow.

  “Now, eat,” she said, pointing at the sandwich and soup she’d set out for him, “before the bread grows hard.”

  Rising, he crossed the room, and standing at the sink to wash up, said, “Thanks, Maemm.”

  When he sat across from her, she said, “May I ask a question?”

  He tensed slightly. “Of course. Anything.”

  “For a little while lately, you dressed and talked Amish. But you have gone back to behaving like an Englisher. It pains me, Phillip.”

  Dressing and talking Amish, to paraphrase her words, had required concentration, and with Gabe’s health occupying so much of his mind, it hadn’t taken long for Phillip to abandon the effort. To date, he’d failed to help her understand why he’d rejected the Amish ways in the first place. What made him think he’d succeed now?

  Still, his mother of all people deserved a response. He chose his words carefully. “When Gabe and I return from Baltimore, things will change.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t press him for s
pecifics, and for that, Phillip was thankful. Because if, God forbid, things didn’t go well, Phillip couldn’t see himself returning to Pleasant Valley. At least, not to live.

  If things went better than expected, well, he wasn’t sure he’d stay then, either.

  Chapter Ten

  “Good morning, Mr. Baker.”

  As usual, she smiled and, as usual, there was music in her womanly voice. She’d piled her hair atop her head, and the tendrils that had escaped her bun curled beside her appealing face. Phillip resisted the urge to tuck them behind her ears. He could almost see her reaction, and it made him angry—with himself, for not having the backbone to maintain a professional distance—with Emily, for being so alluring.

  And yet he said, “I thought we decided not to stand on formality, Dr. White.”

  She laughed, a soft, delightful sound. “Oh. Right.” Dainty fingertips tapped the side of her head. “Duh. Old habits and all that.”

  “I didn’t realize we knew each other well enough to have formed habits.”

  Until then, she’d seemed a bit preoccupied, glancing from her cell phone to the numbers above the elevator doors to Phillip, but the question commanded her full attention. As Emily studied his face, faint worry lines formed between her brows.

  “When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

  In all honesty, he couldn’t remember. “I’ve never needed much sleep.“

  The elevator arrived, and once the car emptied, they stepped inside.

  “Let me prescribe something,” she said, pressing the number three. “Just a few tablets. It’s an arduous drive to Baltimore, and once we reach Johns Hopkins, you’ll be inundated with things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Like a tour of the pediatric cardiology ward. There will be forms to sign. And Dr. Williams will want to meet with us. You know, things?”

  Yes, he knew, because she’d already outlined it all. Phillip didn’t respond, though, because his mind had locked on one word: Us.

  “You’ll be there? When Gabe and I meet with the surgeon?”

  She looked shocked that he’d even asked. “As his doctor of record, and since I’ll assist in the OR, yes. I’ll be there for you, for everything.” Emily bit her lower lip, looking apprehensive and disappointed. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”