All He'll Ever Need

by Loree Lough

  “Your homecoming?” Phillip offered.

  “Yes! That’s it! My homecoming! It will be a very special, happy day. Like the Fourth of July. And Christmas. And my birthday that is on the Fourth of July!” Hands clapping, Gabe added, “Der gschwisderkinds John and Paul and Ant Hannah and Onkle Eli will merry with us, yah?”

  Interesting, Phillip thought, how in his excitement, Gabe only remembered the Deutsch words for house, bake, aunt, uncle, and cousins. Should he answer with the truth, or something more optimistic?

  Emily replied in his stead. “No partying for you, little man, at least not at first. We talked about this, remember? How your body will be very tired, and you can easily catch cold. After you’ve had time to heal and rest, then you can celebrate to your heart’s content.”

  “How long will I rest?”

  Phillip had memorized nearly every word in the pages Emily had printed for him and knew that Gabe’s recovery could take months.

  Yet again, Emily answered for him. “Everyone is different. Some children are ready to run and play in a few weeks. Others take longer.”

  Gabe frowned. “How much longer?”

  She reminded him of a rabbit, caught in a trap. This time, Phillip came to her rescue.

  “It will take as long as it takes, Son, and we will be grateful for every healthy day.”

  “I cannot wait to be healthy. I want to climb a tree. Go fishing. And beat der gschwisderkinds in a footrace!”

  Gabe expected things to go well, and God willing, they would. A glance at Emily’s face told him she hoped so, too, and from the tender, motherly expression, her hopes went beyond adding another success story to her case files.

  Phillip sat back and pretended to listen as she and Gabe listed things he could do while recuperating. Board and card games, coloring books, identifying birds that perched in the trees near his window. Pretended, because her exchange with Gabe added yet another item to his already too-long Reasons to Like Emily list.

  One of Gabe’s nurses came in, and after checking his vitals, entered the numbers into the computer. Emily, standing beside her, scanned the monitor. The women pointed, nodded, even shared a smile or two, behaving more like friends than coworkers. It eased the slight concern that had arisen when one of the nurses seemed to have hard feelings toward Emily. Months ago, he’d read an article that attempted to prove the nurses-resent-doctors theory. One particular quote stood out among others: “There’s definitely a pecking order, at least in some doctors’ minds. They treat us like peons, barking orders, rushing through exams, and leaving us to correct their mistakes and deal with frightened, in-pain patients.” He’d witnessed numerous interactions between Emily and nurses, between Emily and orderlies, between Emily and other doctors, and except for that single occasion, one thing stood out: her talent for putting people at ease.

  And the list grew.

  How was he supposed to rein in his feelings if she continued giving him reasons not to!

  A young man carrying a gray plastic tray joined them. “Got most of your special requests, Gabie,” he said, sliding it onto the food cart. “Even chocolate cake!”

  Gabe clapped his hands. “Yay! Thank you, Benny!”

  Benny scribbled something on a napkin, adding it to the tray. “That’s my cell number. You want anything else, you call, and I’ll do whatever I can to get it for you, okay?” On his way to the door, he paused in front of Phillip. “That’s some kid you’ve got there, sir. Everybody loves him.”

  “I know exactly how they feel,” he said as the nurse removed stainless steel coverings from plates and bowls.

  “Wow,” she said. “Just . . . wow! There’s enough here to feed a family of six.” She propped a fist on a hip. “Why didn’t I get an invitation to this party you’re throwing!”

  “You are funny, Nurse Amy. You know there is no party.” Laughing, Gabe flexed his bicep. “Eating makes us strong, is that not what you said?”

  “You bet I said it, ’cause it’s true.” She mussed his bangs. “Well, off I go to check on my other patients!”

  “I should go, too.” Emily followed the nurse to the door. “I need to check on a few patients, make sure my shifts are covered for the next few days. Run home and pack a bag. You know, stuff.”

  “You should not run,” Gabe said. “I saw a lady fall yesterday. These floors are slippery!”

  “You did? I hope she wasn’t hurt!”

  “Oh, she got right up again.” Gabe paused. “But she probably has a bruise on her knee now!”

  “Thank you for the advice. I promise to walk.”

  “I like your smile.”

  “I like yours, too.”

  “And I think you’re very pretty.”

  “Why, thank you, Gabe. And I think you’re a handsome boy.”

  “Dr. White? Will your husband come to Baltimore with us?”

  Did she look as though someone had smacked her—hard—because once upon a time, she’d hoped to become a doctor’s wife? Mrs. Alex Williams, to be precise?

  “I’m not . . . I don’t have a husband.”

  While Phillip stood, silently wondering when she’d tell Gabe about the ambulance ride to Hopkins, the boy said, “What about children? Do you have any of those?”

  “Nope, ’fraid not.”

  Gabe shook his head. “That is too bad. I think you would be a very good mother.” He looked at Phillip. “Do you think so, Dad?”

  He replied without hesitation. “I do.”

  The words echoed in his head, reminding him of the day he’d stood toe to toe with Rebecca in the church at the foot of Backbone Mountain. In the Amish community, arranged marriages like theirs were as routine as the “we’ve fallen in love” kind, so when the bishop asked, “Do you have confidence, brother, that the Lord provided our sister as a marriage partner for you?” he’d quickly said, “I do.” Fisher continued with, “Do you promise that if she should need your help, you will care for her as is fitting a Christian husband?” And again, he’d said, “I do.” That final question, though, haunted him, still: “Do you both promise to treat one another with forbearance and patience, and not part from each other until God separates you by death?” Haunted him because, as he and Rebecca chorused “I do,” dismay, not a new bride’s joy, registered on her face . . . a countenance she donned each time they came together as husband and wife.

  Gabe’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Dr. White is leaving, Dad. You should hug her good-bye.”

  A myriad of expressions skittered across her face: Shock. Embarrassment. Confusion. Anxiety.

  “I . . . ah . . . I’m a mess,” she said, grabbing her bag. “I’ll see both of you tomorrow, bright and early.” And then she was gone.

  Gabe shook silverware from its white paper envelope, and it landed on the Formica tabletop with a metallic clatter.

  “Why didn’t you hug her?”

  How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself?

  Gabe speared half a dozen elbow noodles. “I hugged her.” He drew the back of his hand over his mouth, then licked off the golden cheese sauce. “Do you ever get lonely, Dad?”

  “Not often,” he said, smirking, “thanks to you and the rest of our rowdy family.”

  “Yeah, we make lots of noise when we are together.”

  Hopefully, the boy’s curiosity had been sated. Finally.

  “Dad?”

  Phillip tensed. “Your second supper is getting cold, Gabe.”

  He shoveled a scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do you like her?” he asked around it.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Son.”

  After impaling a forkful of meat loaf he said, “I think she is pretty.”

  Phillip thought so, too, from the top of her curly-haired head to the soles of her tiny feet.

  “Do you think she is as pretty as Mama?”

  Tall and frail with pale blue eyes, wispy blond hair, and a solemn nature, Rebecca had been Emily’s opposite in just about eve
ry way.

  “A different kind of pretty.”

  It hit him suddenly that Gabe’s brave talk was exactly that: talk. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely convinced he’d survive the operation. Was he worried that if he didn’t, Phillip would be . . . lonesome?

  Using his fork, Gabe pointed at the notebook on the seat of the straight-backed chair. “Uh-oh.”

  Phillip picked it up. “I’ll see if I can catch up with her.” Pausing in the doorway, he said, “Finish your supper while I’m gone. If you can find room for it in that already-full belly of yours!”

  And there she stood, facing the windows at the end of the hall, waiting for the elevator. Phillip jogged toward her. At the sound of his footsteps, she turned, and even at this distance, he could see the Oh no, not him expression on her face.

  “You forgot your notebook,” he said, holding it out to her.

  Emily reached for it, then jerked back her hand. “Thanks, but that isn’t mine. It probably belongs to one of the nurses. Or a resident who’s studying something related to . . . hearts.”

  “Yes, many have visited Gabe. And your patience with them was admirable.” Now, things began to make sense. Gabe hadn’t said it was Emily’s. You heard what you wanted to hear, he told himself.

  “These elevators,” he said, staring at the numbers above the doors. “Slow, aren’t they?”

  “Oh, they’re not so bad.” She smiled. “I stopped in a couple of patients’ rooms first or I’d be on my way home by now.”

  She took a step forward and grabbed his hand.

  “I know you’re worried about Gabe, but you needn’t be. I could say it a hundred times more, and you might still be worried, but Alex really is a very skilled surgeon. I don’t like to give false hope, but I have a good feeling about this. I know it’s easier said than done under the circumstances, and in a place like this, but I hope you and Gabe will get a good night’s sleep.”

  Backlit by the evening sun that slanted through the windows, she all but glowed. She cared, and not just about Gabe. Emily cared about him, too. Phillip saw it in her eyes, felt it in her touch.

  He’d never been the type who did anything without first giving it a lot of thought.

  Until now.

  He drew her close and kissed her.

  And she let him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The four-hour drive from Oakland to Baltimore went smoothly, and so had their arrival and check-in at Johns Hopkins.

  Pete rested a hand on Phillip’s shoulder. “I gotta say, that kid of yours is as smart as they come. Tell him something once, he remembers it.” He laughed. “And those questions! I had a hard time answering them all. I think I might need a refresher course.”

  Grinning, Phillip watched two nurses help Gabe into bed.

  “He’s light as a feather,” said one.

  The other agreed. “Yeah, but six months from now, he’ll weigh twice as much!”

  “All comfy, sweetie?” the first asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Smart,” she said, winking, “cute as a button, and polite, too.” She gave his knee a playful slap. “Think maybe you can squeeze in a nap?”

  Gabe nodded, and the nurses left the room with a promise to return within the hour. He looked older than his years. Looked exhausted, too, thanks to a restless night of tossing and turning, whimpering and moaning. Once, while tidying his covers, Phillip noticed that tears had dampened the pillowcase, and almost lost it himself. He’d steeled himself, though, because if Gabe woke up and saw his father blubbering like a frightened child—

  “Guess what, Dad! I know what a jump bag is, and what’s in it. It’s different from a medicine bag, you know.” He settled back into the pillows. “And a valve mask. And a spine board. There are monitors in the ambo, too. That’s what Pete calls it. An ambo. Oh, and blankets, and flashlights, and batteries, and bandages . . .” He inhaled a deep breath. “When I grow up, I want to be a paramedic, just like Pete!”

  Not an impossible dream, Phillip thought . . . if the operation was successful.

  “You’re makin’ me blush, kiddo,” Pete said from the hall. “And when you’re ready to sign up, I’ll help any way I can.”

  He waved for Phillip to join him. “Didn’t want to say anything in front of Gabe, since he can’t eat, but I’m going to the cafeteria, grab a burger or something. What can I bring you?”

  “Nothing, but thanks.” Food was the last thing on Phillip’s mind. “Any idea where your sister is?”

  “Hunting down sleeping quarters for herself and me. Not that I expect either of us will make use of ’em.” He glanced at his watch. “I expect she’s firming up your meeting with Williams, too.”

  Pete’s look of disapproval made Phillip say, “Not your favorite person, huh?”

  “Oh, he’s good at what he does. Excellent, actually. But he’s an arrogant gasbag. A know-it-all. And he broke Emily’s heart, so no, he isn’t my favorite person.”

  It broke his heart to hear that she’d been so deeply hurt.

  “What happened to end things?”

  “She turned down his proposal. And like any self-respecting narcissist, he had a hard time believing any woman would reject him.”

  Phillip had looked into Williams’s background. It was hard not to be impressed by the list of academic, athletic, and medical accolades that ran onto a second page, where the list of the surgical procedures he’d developed appeared. Good-looking, wealthy, successful, respected by his peers . . .

  “Why did she say no?”

  “For starters, he’s a serial cheater. Bad enough he stepped out on her half a dozen times, but he seemed to enjoy flaunting it, too.”

  “Then . . . if he didn’t want to settle down, why propose in the first place?”

  “My best guess, she would’ve been good for his image. Smart, respected, well liked, and easy on the eyes.”

  Phillip agreed with every point.

  “Just between you and me,” Pete continued, “I think Em said no because she didn’t believe anything would change him. Not even marriage. Plus, he had this nasty habit of embarrassing her every chance he got.”

  “Embarrass her? But how? She seems almost perfect to me.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s no threat to you.”

  Phillip didn’t get it and said so.

  “She barely had to study, and still aced every test in school. Everybody liked her. Professors, patients and their families, staff, coworkers . . .” Pete shrugged. “He called her an underachiever because she wasn’t interested in taking additional courses that would guarantee name recognition in the hoity-toity medical journals. And said no one of worth is ever satisfied with”—he drew quote marks in the air—“enough. Called her lazy. Didn’t care who was listening—family, friends, peers—or how she reacted to his insults.” He slammed a fist into an open palm. “I can’t tell you how often I wanted to shut that jerk up . . . with a left hook to the throat. But . . .” He finished with a shrug.

  “Let me guess . . . You held your temper because Emily asked you to.”

  “She hates conflict. Hates hurting people’s feelings. Said if I called Williams out, it might embarrass the jerk, believe it or not.” He shook his head.

  Yes, Phillip could believe it. “Sounds like it all worked out for the best, though. She deserves better than that.”

  Pete searched Phillip’s face for a long moment. “What she deserves is a guy who’ll treat her like a lady, even if it isn’t considered politically correct in some circles. Someone who’ll recognize her finer qualities and appreciate what a prize she is.” He paused, nodded once, and added, “A guy like you.”

  Phillip didn’t know how to reply.

  Pete’s stomach rumbled. Loudly. The men shared a moment of companionable laughter.

  “Better grab that burger,” Phillip said, “before one of the nurses writes you up for disturbing the peace.”

  “I know, right?” He patted his belly. “Say, while I’m down
there, I’ll call Em, see if she managed to lock Dr. Jerkface into a time for your meeting. My guess? He’ll keep y’all waiting until an hour or so before the surgery. Just because he can.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. We’re all on edge, and a last-minute meeting won’t be good for any of us.”

  “What time is surgery?” Pete asked, backpedaling toward the elevators.

  “Three o’clock.”

  Again, Pete glanced at his watch. “Wow.” Then, “You might want to consider eating something, too, even if you aren’t hungry. Way I hear it, this operation can take hours.”

  Six, maybe eight, according to everything he’d read. He’d kept as many details as possible to himself, mostly to quell Sarah’s worries.

  Pete’s stomach grumbled again as he stepped into the car. “Don’t think too long, or you’ll get written up for disturbing the peace!”

  Minutes after Phillip returned to Gabe’s side, an orderly rolled a folding cot into the room. “Dr. White said you’d be needin’ this,” the young man said. He patted the stack of linens on top. “Need any help, makin’ up the bed?”

  “No, thanks. I can do it.”

  “Think you’ll want an extra pillow or anything?”

  “Thanks,” he repeated, “but I doubt I’d use it anyway.”

  When the man left, Gabe said, “That looks better than the squeaky ol’ chair in my other room, huh, Dad.”

  “Sure does.”

  “I am thirsty,” Gabe said.

  “When I meet with Dr. Williams, I’ll ask if you can have a sip or two of water.”

  “Will you see him soon?”

  He remembered what Pete had said, about the possibility of Williams postponing the get-together until the last possible minute.

  “In an hour or two, I hope.”

  “But Dad, I am thirsty now.”

  It wasn’t like Gabe to whine or complain. Phillip wanted nothing more than to ease the boy’s discomfort.

  “Remember what Dr. White said, about keeping your stomach empty so you won’t get queasy during the operation.”