by Amanda Tru
“Perfect. Load up.” As he walked to the truck, she turned to Jeff. “I’ll tell him about Blondie after school. No reason to add fuel to this morning’s fire.” She patted Blondie on the head one more time then said, “Have you fed her this morning?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have food there for her.”
“Okay, good. I’ll take her with me, do her surgery today, and bring her to you tomorrow. Is that okay? Will that give you time to get ready to have her?”
“Sure. Yeah. I appreciate it.”
She whistled, and Blondie raced after Noah. As soon as she confirmed he’d secured his seatbelt, she let Blondie hop into the cab. “Just don’t jump out at the school, girl.”
Exhausted, Jeff digitally signed the chart and closed that screen on his computer. He slid the laptop into the docking station and sauntered up to the reception area. His new nurse, Janet Hines, sat at one of the computer stations, a phone to her ear, calling in a prescription. She had light brown skin and honey-colored eyes. She wore her hair in stylish braids streaked with blonde highlights. His receptionist, Claire Guiley, stood and pulled her purse out of the bottom drawer of her desk. Her pink scrubs clashed with her bright red hair and made her ivory skin look washed out.
“Anything else, Doctor Brock?”
“No. I’m going home and checking on my dog. She had surgery yesterday.” He looked at his watch and noted that they’d finished before six today, a new record. “We’re finally getting into a good rhythm.”
Janet hung up the phone and turned to him. “Oh, Doctor, before you go. You had a patient’s mom call in. She said her son had been hospitalized two weeks ago with a UTI. She said he’s showing symptoms again.”
He went over to the computer and pulled up the chart. His mysterious stomach pain patient ended up having a severe urinary tract infection that had started to spread. Noting the medication he’d prescribed before, Jeff sent a new prescription to the pharmacy. “Call the mom back. Have her pick up that prescription tonight. If he’s not better by noon tomorrow, tell her to call here again.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left, thinking about the UTI case. What could cause that in a teenage boy? He might want to talk to the mom about an ultrasound of his bladder. He pulled out his phone and sent himself an email he would see in the morning.
Six weeks ago, he’d pulled into the yard of Fitz’s home and adamantly denied ever wanting to live there. Now, as he drove down the tree-lined path with the late spring sun dancing through the oak tree leaves, he couldn’t imagine a more pleasant place to live. The sounds of insects and frogs and the occasional coyote or fox call did nothing but lull him into tranquility. He had peace. Here he felt no rush-rush, no unreasonable pressure. If he wanted to eat out, he went to a barbecue place or the diner. Most of the time, he made something simple at home so he could just enjoy being there.
He parked his car and walked onto his front porch. His mother had helped him decorate. She’d placed two rocking chairs with a small table between them on the porch. On the table sat a blooming plant that he couldn’t identify if someone paid him.
When he stepped inside, he tried to remember the dull, scratched-up linoleum floor instead of the gleaming hardwood covered by bright red and turquoise woven rugs. A gray leather couch and love seat formed an L around a small round table topped with a bourbon barrel lid. The couch faced the fireplace with the large television mounted above the mantle.
His keys went into the little dish on the table near the front door. He walked to the kitchen. Most of the renovations had occurred here. They’d pulled out the old appliances and replaced them with nickel colored refrigerator, dishwasher, and stove. Black granite countertops provided a striking contrast to the gleaming white cabinets. A rectangular-shaped island sat in the middle of the kitchen, with four stools on one end and drawers and a knife block on the other.
He couldn’t believe what the carpenters had accomplished in just a month. Unlike his home in Louisville, he did not feel like he came home to a shrine to his dead wife and daughter. Instead, he felt like he came home to a haven, a reprieve.
The two-bedroom house now contained a bedroom slash bathroom suite with black furniture and cream-colored bedding and a comfortable office furnished in browns and greens. In his bedroom, he stopped at the photograph of Liz and Katrina. A very familiar sharp pang of pain squeezed his heart.
“It’s been a good day,” he said, sliding his finger down the image of his wife’s cheek. “I can’t remember your voice anymore, though. I’d love to talk to you. Tell you about things.”
Clearing his throat, he went into the walk-in closet and slipped off his tie, hanging it on the tie rack. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the dry-cleaning pile, then pulled a T-shirt and a pair of jeans out of his drawer.
Just as he finished changing, he heard Gloria’s truck pull into the yard. He went outside to meet her and could see Blondie in the front seat, a white cone around her neck. When the truck came to a complete stop, he opened the door and reached in to lift her out. “Poor girl,” he said, then carried her to the front porch. “I have a nice bed for you inside.”
Gloria appeared next to him and opened the door for him. “She could probably walk.”
“It’s okay.” Just inside the door, he set her down then walked her over to the large round pillow decorated in blue and gray. “Here you go, girl. All yours.”
She looked at him with sad eyes, then carefully lay on the bed and closed her eyes. Gloria held out a bottle. “Chewable pain meds. You won’t have to coat them in peanut butter or anything. They’re beef flavored. She’ll want them. One every four to six hours for pain. She’s due one at eight.”
He set the bottle on the mantle and asked, “Where’s Noah? How did his last day of school go?”
“He’s with my dad. They went to a Red’s baseball game in Cincinnati. No school for either one of them, so they hang out all summer. He had a great day.” She looked him up and down. “You know something? I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you without a tie.”
He blushed slightly and looked at the fishing store logo above the pocket. “Yeah, uh, I think I’ve always been going back to work when we talked.”
“I kind of like the jeans look.” She laughed. “I’m the opposite. It’s the special occasions that have me changing out of jeans.”
His thoughts flew a thousand miles a minute, and he spoke without conscious thought of it. “Would you like to create a special occasion? Since you’re a bachelorette tonight? Maybe go get something to eat somewhere that doesn’t have a fluorescent sign?”
Her cheeks blushed red, and she cleared her throat. He immediately thought of the photograph on his dresser, of his wife’s shining blue eyes, of his daughter’s addictive laughter, and regretted asking. Why had he? Finally, she said, “I, uh, think that would be amazing. But I’ll wait.”
Confused, he asked, “Wait?”
“Yeah.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her head. “I know you’ve never asked about my situation, but my husband abandoned Noah and me. It wasn’t death, but abandonment. Nevertheless, it took a full year before I even took off my wedding rings. Until then, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to not be claimed, to not have an acute symbol of everlasting love, of a bond between husband and wife, even though it was a pretty hollow symbol at the time.”
He looked down at the gold on his left hand. His mind flew to the day Liz slipped it on his finger. He could hear the orchestra music piping over the church’s speakers, smell the lilac and roses from her bouquet.
She continued, “When you’re ready to take off that ring, I’ll be way ready to go create a special occasion with you.”
He studied her face as if feeling the need to memorize it. He truly had never looked into eyes that dark brown before. “You’re a rather direct person, aren’t you?”
With a pleased grin, she stepped out onto the
front porch. “My son gets a lot of things honestly, Jeff. Good night. If Blondie needs anything, give me a call.”
The temperatures soared already into the mid-eighties. Despite the hot sun beating down on him and the sweat sliding down his back, Jeff stood still and stared up at the entrance to the Charula Christian Church. He’d tried three other churches in the area and finally consented in his mind to enter this one. He knew that the reason he’d put it off was because Gloria Sutton attended here. Gloria, who attracted and intrigued him. Gloria, who made him want to go forward instead of clinging to the two people in his past he didn’t know if he could ever let go.
It wasn’t even three years ago, yet. How could another woman catch his attention with such ease? He’d had a forever kind of love, the kind they made books and movies out of. A few weeks after meeting the brunette with the dark brown eyes and the charming son, Liz started to slip away from his memories, and Gloria started to slip into that place. How? Why? What was he willing to do about it?
He rolled his head on his shoulders and gripped his Bible, then walked up the steps. Nodding to people he had met through his practice, he shook hands with a greeter, accepted a bulletin, and slipped into the third row from the back. He used the excuse that he was on call, but he knew it was to observe the congregation from behind. Maybe pinpoint the seating location of a certain family.
An organist played a hymn while people milled and found their seats. At eleven sharp, the pianist joined in and everyone quieted. The doors on either side of the stage opened, and children streamed out, boys from one side, girls from the other. He watched Noah enter at the end and sit in an empty chair in the choir loft instead of joining the other children as they intermingled on the stage and formed rows with military-like precision. A woman on the front row stood and moved to a music stand set up in the center aisle. He recognized Gloria from behind. She wore a long blue skirt that brushed the ground and a blue and white striped shirt with a thick blue belt at her waist. She’d worn her hair up, with strands brushing the back of her neck.
She looked at the pianist, who met her eyes, nodded, paused, then began playing a song. Gloria directed the children as they sang with enthusiasm. Parents around the church lifted phones high to capture the moment. Jeff could not help but think back to a Sunday about four years ago. Liz had attended church for years, but he had always begged off, citing work or other obligations as his excuse not to go. But this one Sunday, the preschool class sang with the children’s church, and she had begged him to come watch Katrina. She’d worn a new dress the color of pink cotton candy. Liz had braided her hair and put a matching ribbon at the bottom of the braid. She’d sang and clapped and danced, and he’d been so proud of her.
Liz’s joy at having him sitting next to her in church brought him back the next Sunday and the next. Within weeks, he’d felt a conviction that led him to learn more about God, about Jesus, about what following Him meant.
Then, one snowstorm later, his world ended, and only that tenuous faith remained. The pastor of his church stood by him through the days and nights, providing him with words of affirmation and a shoulder on which to cry. Had he not been there, Jeff knew he would have abandoned this newfound God and found his comfort elsewhere. He thanked God daily for the friend he’d found in his pastor.
As the children’s song came to an end, he realized tears streamed down his face. He cleared his throat and wiped his cheeks, looking around to see if anyone noticed.
“Doctor Jeff!”
Startled, he saw Noah rush off of the stage and down the aisle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gloria following. Not knowing what else to do, he slipped out of the pew and knelt to eye level with Noah. “Hey bud,” he said in a low voice, “it’s good to see you.”
Noah didn’t throw himself into his arms. Instead, he stopped right in front of him and held out his hand. Jeff took it, and Noah exaggeratedly shook it. “Yes, sir. I was surprised. I saw you from the way up there.”
Someone had taken the podium and started making announcements, so Jeff put a finger to his lips. “Okay. Right now, it’s time to be quiet. Let’s talk after service, okay?”
“Deal,” Noah said, then turned to his mom. In a loud whisper, he said, “Look! It’s Doctor Jeff!”
Gloria smiled at Jeff and put her lips to Noah’s ear, cupping her hand around her mouth. Whatever she said, he looked down, nodded, and headed out the back door. Gloria waved at Jeff as she followed her son.
Jeff tried to turn his attention to the man speaking. He kept thinking about Noah’s joy at seeing him. Something about that lightened a dark place in his heart. He smiled as he grabbed a hymnal and turned to the appropriate page.
Gloria waited on Jeff’s front porch. She’d missed him after church. By the time all of the respective parents had collected their children, Jeff had long gone. So, she fed Noah and her dad, then hopped onto an ATV and headed down the path in the woods. Blondie had raced out of the barn and met her, happily greeting her. “You’ve forgiven me for the surgery, I see,” Gloria had said, laughing. Now Blondie lay at her feet, snoring in a hot beam of sunlight.
Gloria looked around, seeing the signs of fresh landscaping. Where weeds once took over on the side of the house, a couple of rose bushes set their roots amid fresh mulch. Around the porch, bright white and dark pink verbena provided a beautiful contrast. A butterfly danced around the red and yellow petals of a potted sunset milkweed.
Just when she thought she should leave, she heard car tires crunch on gravel. As Jeff parked his sedan, she stood and ran nervous hands down the side of her skirt. He got out of the car and stopped his forward movement toward her to greet Blondie. “Hey, girl. How was your morning, eh?” As he walked up his steps with the dog bouncing at his feet, he slipped his sunglasses off. “Hey, is everything okay?”
She cleared her throat. “Sure. I just, uh, didn’t catch you after church. I got caught up with children’s church stuff, and you must have left.”
He nodded. “Your dad explained that to me.” He gestured to the two chairs, and she sat back down. “I would have waited around if I’d known you wanted to talk to me.”
Her face flooded with heat. She resisted the urge to fan herself. “I feel really bad about what I said to you a few weeks ago. I’m sorry if what I said was rude.”
He studied her, his eyes moving over her face. Finally, he said, “You were hardly rude.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she stood. “Okay. Great. Then you don’t need an apology from me.”
He stood with her. “Please wait.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his blue slacks. “I find myself drawn to you, and to Noah, and at the same time, I find myself wanting to resist it.” She didn’t know how to respond to his words, so she stayed quiet and listened. “You’re right. I’m not ready. But the fact that I’m drawn to you tells me that maybe I should be.” He gestured at the chair. “Please, sit. I want to talk about something.”
As she sat, he moved to stand in front of her, leaning against the new railing of the porch. “I was sitting in church this morning, and it occurred to me,” he paused, looked up at the porch ceiling, then back down to her. “It occurred to me that the reason I have faith in God, and a relationship with Christ, has a lot to do with the fact that I lost my wife and daughter. I mean, maybe something in my brain realized that somewhere in the background, but I never really put a finger on it. I find myself wondering how it’s possible that happened. Most people would lose their faith. Mine strengthened and grew and strengthened some more.” He moved to the chair next to hers and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’d like to know about your experience with your husband.”
Images flew through her mind. Trevor in high school, sitting in front of her in science class, laughing at some kid dropping his tray in the lunchroom, after basketball practice at his buddy Brandon’s house with a joint in one hand and a beer in the other. How did she explain?
“I was raised in a C
hristian home. I don’t know how I ended up married to Trevor. Well, I mean, I know how I just don’t know what drove me. I went off to college, went to veterinary school, came home, and within a week I’d hooked up with my high school sweetheart; the same man who never once reached out to me while I was away even though we got together every time I was home for a holiday. For some reason, with him, I made stupid decisions followed by bad decisions followed by really dumb decisions. Somehow, I found myself married to a classic narcissist.”
She met Jeff’s eyes. “It was hard to be married to him only because I was never a priority. Not in the years of on and off again dating, not when we got married, not when I was pregnant with Noah.” She crossed her arms in front of her. “And then Noah was born. He was too early. Barely three pounds. I was so sick. And Trevor resented every single moment. Every tear. Every load of laundry and diapers. Every tired bone in my body. We got the autism diagnosis the day before Noah’s fifth birthday. The next morning, Trevor was gone. Just gone. I received divorce papers via messenger. I saw him at the courthouse on our D-day, and then never again.”
She’d never just laid it out loud like that. In a way, she felt an unexpected sense of relief at the systematic story. In another way, she felt like she should have more emotion at the telling of it. Three years was a long time, though.
Jeff leaned back and nodded. “I appreciate your willingness to share.” He hooked a foot on his knee. “Do you know why he left? I mean, I get narcissist. What I’m asking is, did he ever tell you?”
“I think it had everything to do with the word autism. He suddenly didn’t have the perfect son who could fill his shoes in sports and life. I also don’t think he wanted to compete against Noah anymore, and he didn’t see an end to the amount of work that was going to go into parenting him.” She stood and looked up at him. “Noah’s birth brought me back to church. Trevor tried to keep me from going, and I never let him. I’m so thankful for my steadfastness with that. Only God could have gotten me through what I went through.”