All He'll Ever Need

by Loree Lough

  “Wow. You’re one happy boy, aren’t you! Did they give you chocolate cake for dessert again?”

  “No. Chocolate pudding.”

  She pinched his big toe. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t order dessert after my supper. You’re making me hungry for sweets!”

  “Did you eat with my dad?”

  “No, I expect he’s home, packing for the two of you.”

  “So you ate, all by yourself ?”

  “No, with my brother.”

  “The one who brought me here?”

  “Yes, Pete.”

  “Oh, I like him. A lot. He is a very nice man.”

  It was easy to agree with the boy. “And I like you. A lot. You’re a very nice boy!”

  Giggling, Gabe drew his knees to his chest. Then suddenly, his smile dimmed.

  And Emily thought she knew why: In a few hours, they’d load him into the ambulance, and he’d start out on the road to health and well-being. A good thing, if all went as planned, but scary to a four-year-old boy whose days, to this point, had been filled with ailments and physical weakness that barred him from enjoying life like every other child his age.

  She sat on the bed, facing him. “Getting a little nervous, are you?”

  He nodded, hugged his knees tighter, and rested his chin there.

  “I’d feel the same way if I were you.” As an Amish boy, he hadn’t yet attended school, but Emily believed that Phillip and his mother deserved much praise for encouraging Gabe’s outgoing personality, extensive vocabulary, and comfort in conversing with adults. She’d explained his condition in words he could understand and described what he could expect upon arriving at Johns Hopkins, too. And while he seemed to understand at the time, experience taught her that children retained and comprehended such information quite differently from her adult patients.

  “I’ll bet you still have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

  He lifted one shoulder. And Emily understood it to mean that yes, he had questions, but because of his age, he didn’t know how to put them into words.

  “Are you wondering about Dr. Williams, who’ll perform your operation?”

  “Yes. A little,” he said quietly.

  Emily held his hand and described Alex’s medical background. “He is an excellent doctor who has performed this operation many, many times. So you can be sure he’s very good at what he does.”

  Seeing that Gabe understood, she continued. “You’ll have a chance to meet him, tomorrow, not long after we arrive in Baltimore. I’ve spoken with a few of the nurses who work with him regularly, and they promised to give us a tour of the hospital, so you’ll feel more at ease when we’re moving you from your room to the OR, and from the recovery room back to your room.”

  He maintained full eye contact, a signal that he had heard and grasped what she’d said.

  “The operation will take a few hours, but you won’t even notice, because you’ll be sound asleep, thanks to some medicine.”

  “Will the medicine get into me through a needle?”

  She gave his hand a tender squeeze. “Yes, but you probably won’t even feel the prick, because everyone at Hopkins is very good at what they do.”

  “What if I do feel it?”

  “If you do—and I don’t think you will—you’re allowed to holler.”

  That, at least, inspired a tiny grin. “Really? I can yell?”

  “Yup. At the top of your lungs if you want to!”

  “Wow.” The smile grew slightly.

  “After the operation, you’ll sleep a lot, for a day, maybe even two.”

  “Why?”

  Emily lifted his hand and counted on his fingers. “For one thing, it’ll take a while for the medicine to work itself out of your system. Plus, because your heart isn’t working as hard as it should, you’ve been feeling tired for a long, long time. The operation itself will make you feel even more tired. At least until you begin to heal. So it’s a good thing, a very good thing, that you’ll sleep a lot.”

  “Because my body will need rest, so that I can start healing and leave the hospital as soon as I am feeling better.”

  “Yes, Gabe! That’s it, exactly!”

  “When I go home again, can I play with my cousins?”

  “You mean games like hide-and-seek, and tag?” Her heart throbbed at the sight of his full-blown smile. “For a few weeks, you won’t feel like running around. But little by little, you’ll gain strength, and you’ll be able to keep up with them. What are their names?”

  “John and Paul. They are older than me, but they are fun!”

  “That’s wonderful. I had cousins like that, and I’m sure you’ll remember all that fun when you’re a father with children of your own.”

  Gabe looked disgusted. “Oh, I am not getting married.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because my wife would be a girl, and I’d have to kiss her.” He grimaced. “I do not want to kiss a girl!”

  Laughing, Emily drew him close in a hug. “Oh Gabe, you’re such a joy.” She held him at arm’s length to add, “I could be wrong, but I don’t think so: Someday, when you’re all grown up, you’ll meet a very special young woman, and when you do, you’ll feel very differently about everything. Even kissing.”

  He shrugged again. “Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

  Gabe leaned into his pillows, a serious expression replacing the kiss-induced revulsion on his face.

  “Dr. White, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  “And you will tell me the real truth?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Do you think I am going to die?”

  “You’re going to be fine, just fine.”

  A half-truth was better than an outright lie, Emily thought, remembering what Alex had said: “I’ve seen the X-rays and scans. The boy has a fifty-fifty chance of pulling through the surgery. Even if he makes it through the first week, a cold, the flu, too much activity that causes a bleed could put him at death’s door.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” she repeated. Because you have to be!

  “Promise?”

  Emily raised her right hand. “I believe that. Promise.” She always wanted long-lasting, positive results for her patients, but never more than now.

  “Whew,” he responded. “My dad will be glad to hear that. So will my grossmammi.” He paused, then said, “Where is your mother and father?”

  She pictured the man who’d supported her every decision, who’d sometimes given unwanted advice that had been difficult to hear, but never wrong. What would he say about her ever-growing feelings for Phillip? Emily thought of her mother, too, who’d done everything possible to protect her family from the ravages of diabetes. “She’s in heaven.”

  Eyes narrowed, Gabe said, “You do not really believe in such a place, do you?”

  “Oh yes, I certainly do. It makes me feel good, picturing her up there, smiling and happy and pain-free, surrounded by angels and—” His wary, “too old for his age” expression silenced her. “You don’t?”

  “No, because . . .” He met her eyes. “Dr. White, do you think I have a soul?”

  “Everyone has a soul.” She tweaked his nose. “It’s the part of us that’s most special to God.”

  “God.” He hesitated. “So you think there is a God?”

  She hadn’t thought it possible for a child his age to sound so skeptical. “Absolutely, positively, one hundred percent.”

  “And you think He loves us?”

  “Yes, Gabe. He loves us. All of us. All of the time.”

  “I want to believe, but . . .” He laid a hand over his heart. “I have watched a lot of TV here in the hospital, and on the news there are forest fires. Floods. Tornadoes. People getting shot. Children dying of sicknesses. Would a good God do these things? Would He take my mother—and yours—and give me a heart that doesn’t work right?”

  He looked defeated, and every bit as miserable as he sounded. Emily
wanted to ease his mind, to bolster his faith. But she’d never been one who’d spouted her spiritual beliefs. Not in college when fellow students pooh-poohed those who believed in Him. Not in med school, when professors and peers cited scientific studies, conducted solely to disprove His existence. And while she did believe, wholeheartedly, Emily had never argued with them, because she didn’t know how. She had to figure it out, right here, right now, because this sweet, sickly little boy was afraid—though no one had said it straight out—about what would become of him if he didn’t survive the operation. And he needed to go into that surgical suite feeling as upbeat and confident as possible!

  “I can tell you what I think, Gabe, but it might not answer your questions. First of all, I totally agree with your community’s beliefs . . . that maybe God allows us to suffer, just a little, sometimes, to make us stronger.”

  Gabe exhaled a long sigh. “Oh, so it is about faith, then.”

  His bored tone told her that he’d heard the word ad nauseam. “Yes, I suppose you could put it that way.” Emily scooted closer, placed her hands on his shoulders, and looked into his wide-eyed, innocent face. “It isn’t easy, believing in things you can’t see, like heaven and God.” She finger-combed his bangs. “Do you believe your dad loves you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Even though you can’t see that love?”

  “I see it in his eyes. I hear it in his voice.”

  “God loves you, too. And when you believe that, even when it’s hard and scary and confusing, that is faith.”

  Gabe leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her, and snuggled close. “Will you be my friend even after the operation, Dr. White?”

  She’d cared for many people, children included, whose conditions were at least as precarious as Gabe’s. What was it about this boy that made her wish he was more, so much more, than a patient?

  Emily hugged him tighter. “I’d love that.” And she meant it.

  “I heard my dad talking to the bishop one time. They did not know I was in the shop because I was hiding under the workbench. I heard Dad say he does not believe in God.”

  Emily and Phillip had never discussed religion in any meaningful way, but hearing that his convictions had been shaken to that degree came as no surprise. He’d suffered the loss of several close relatives, and now his only son faced an uncertain future. That had to be challenging, even for someone raised in an Amish community, surrounded by devout believers.

  Anyone facing major surgery would look worried, but Gabe’s conduct gave new meaning to the word. Smarter than a child three times his age, he’d figured out that the pending operation could kill him, and that every medical decision made on his behalf had widened the gap between his father and grandmother.

  “Will you do me a favor, Gabe?”

  “Oh yes, Dr. White. I would like that!”

  “I’ve overstayed my welcome, and tired you out. So try to get some rest, okay? Do it for me?”

  He gave the request a moment’s thought. “If I try, will you do a favor for me?”

  “Sure, if I can.”

  “I was afraid, but you helped my afraid to go away. Will you do it for my dad? Help him believe in God so he will not be afraid about my heart anymore?”

  Emily blinked away the sting of tears. “Aw, sweetie,” she began, “I’ll—”

  “I’m not afraid, Son.”

  “Good grief, Phillip, you startled me! How long have you been standing there?”

  A slow, tantalizing smile lit his eyes. “Long enough,” he said. “Exactly long enough.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily, seated at the foot of Gabe’s bed, faced Phillip. The Gabe-induced fear that had coiled in his gut relaxed a bit. She’d handled his boy’s questions with genuine warmth, not clinical professionalism. In her place, Phillip didn’t think he could have done anywhere near as well. He was about to thank her when she said, “Phillip . . .”

  She usually wore her hair up. He’d never seen her without the starched white lab coat and had no idea what style or color of clothing hid under it. Put a bonnet and apron on her, he’d thought more than once, and she could almost pass for an Amish woman. Tonight, she’d worn her hair down, and it draped over her shoulders like a mahogany cape. Her pink blouse reflected in her cheeks, made her freckles stand out. And the skirt that stopped just above her knees—

  “. . . we need to talk about the trip to Baltimore.”

  Pull yourself together, Baker, or she’ll think you’ve gone mad. “Your friend didn’t cancel the operation, I hope.”

  “No. Of course not. Wait. My friend?”

  “Yeah. You know . . .” The doctor whose name had the power to dim the light in her eyes. The thought of her staring adoringly into Williams’s eyes had the power to make Phillip clench his jaw. “The doctor who’s gonna fix Gabe’s heart? You’re, ah, old pals, right?”

  Her cheeks reddened, and she was blinking so fast, he could almost feel the breeze from her long lashes. Phillip felt bad about having caused her discomfort. “So about the trip. You need me to drive, after all?”

  “No. In fact, my brother volunteered to drive us. In an ambulance. Because its suspension system will keep Gabe more comfortable. And it’s fully equipped. Medications. Monitoring devices. Not that I think he’ll need them, but, as the sages say, it’s best to err on the side of caution, you know?”

  What he knew was, she’d never talked that fast. Why did she sound so nervous? Was she keeping something from him? Something associated with the operation?

  Phillip looked at his son. “Will you look at that? He took your advice, about trying to sleep, and he’s deep in dreamland now. So, no need to tiptoe around the truth . . . Emily.”

  “Tiptoe . . . ? What!”

  “The real reason our travel plans changed.”

  She stared him down. “Your mother should have named you Thomas.”

  It took a few seconds to get the joke—doubting Thomas—but Phillip wasn’t amused. “You have to admit, this ambulance story came from out of nowhere.”

  Emily lifted her chin slightly and pursed her lips. “It isn’t a story, Phillip. I made the decision in Gabe’s best interests. He would have been miserable, riding so many hours in my car. And Pete agrees.” She spent a moment smoothing the pleats of her black skirt. “I’m a little surprised that after all this time, you don’t trust me.”

  All what time? he wondered. They hadn’t known each other a full week!

  He stopped himself from saying I do trust you . . . where Gabe is concerned because, by her own admission, she’d made a judgment call about the emergency vehicle, one that directly impacted his son, without running it past him. Reality hit him like a hard slap: By his own admission, they’d met a week ago. Five days, to be precise. Only a crazy man would allow himself to become emotionally attached to a near stranger in such a short time. Phillip had already told himself—more times than he cared to admit—to get control of his emotions. He hadn’t been thinking straight, and the indecision made him feel stupid. Ridiculous. As immature as his neighbors’ giggling girls, who destroyed daisies while playing “he loves me, he loves me not” to decide which boy to marry.

  Phillip groaned under his breath. “So when do we leave?”

  “Pete says we’ll hit some traffic in Frederick and Hagerstown, but leaving at seven o’clock should get us through the worst of it without any major delays.”

  After dropping his mother off at home, Phillip had gone to his shop. His regular customers must have heard about Gabe’s situation, because he found no new messages on the answering machine. New bills had arrived, though, for electricity. Grocery deliveries from Browning’s. His heartbeat quickened just thinking about the short stack of windowed envelopes.

  “Did Pete happen to mention what it’s going to cost?”

  “He . . . well, he volunteered.”

  “Yes, so you said. Really nice of him. But the vehicle isn’t free, right?”

  “It’s . . . I .
. . Pete called in a few favors.” Emily picked at a nub in the fabric of her skirt. “It won’t cost you anything.”

  What a peculiar way to answer the question. “It won’t cost me anything?”

  Her cheeks flushed, not much, but enough to tell him he’d made her nervous again. He wasn’t happy about that, but if she thought he intended to accept charity . . .

  “Dad—” Gabe interrupted sleepily as he woke, levering himself onto one elbow. “Is Grossmammi coming back?”

  “No, Son. She will stay at home while we go to Johns Hopkins.”

  “Did you pack us some clothes?”

  The question, Phillip believed, was Gabe’s little-boy way of asking for reassurances: If he died on the operating table, he wouldn’t need clean shirts and trousers, now would he?

  Phillip chuckled. “I packed so many things that your grandmother scolded me!”

  Gabe grinned. “She is probably worried about having to wash it all when we get home.”

  It was good, so good to hear that Gabe expected to return to Pleasant Valley. And he had Emily to thank for the boy’s confidence.

  “Dr. White?”

  Emily faced Gabe. “Hmm?”

  “I am not allowed to eat tonight, right?”

  “The cutoff hour is midnight.”

  “I will be asleep by then. Probably.” A silly smile lit up his ashy face.

  “Ah,” Emily said, winking, “you have a special request, do you?”

  “I liked the buttered noodles and mashed potatoes with gravy. But I would really like more ice cream. And chocolate cake . . .”

  “But sweetie, where will you put it all!”

  Phillip liked the way his laughter and hers blended in perfect harmony. Three steps, that’s all it would take to sit between them, and initiate a family hug. Oh, to have a cup of coffee, bottled water, something to hold, and sip, to distract him from what couldn’t—shouldn’t—happen.

  “Did Grossmammi find my list?”

  The question shattered the image. “What list?”

  “I tore pictures from a magazine,” Gabe said, pointing to the stack on his bedside table. “Pies. Cakes. Muffins. Bread. All my favorite things. So she would know what to bakka for my . . . for when . . .” Unable to find the right word, Gabe groaned. “For the day I go back to der haus.”