Blue Like Elvis (13 page)

“You sure you’re
okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.
Really. But don’t you think we should pay for our meal?”

“Absolutely not.
Do you realize how badly you could have been hurt? You could have snapped your
ankle plopping down like that, or busted your nose―”

“But I’m fine.”

“And I’m glad,”
he said, opening the passenger door for me. “But I don’t appreciate his lack of
concern. That was out of line. And just telling him of our concern wouldn’t faze
that kid. If he has to pay for that meal out of his own pocket, maybe he’ll
actually do
something about those chairs. Or at least tell his boss
about them.”

He shut my door
and walked around to his side of the car and got in.

“Hey, are you
okay?” I asked. I’d never seen this side of Tucker. Annoyed. Agitated.

“Yeah. I just
don’t appreciate it when people are inconsiderate of others.” He started the
car. “Let’s go home.”

Let’s go
home.

As he put the
car in drive and pulled out, I realized I liked the sound of that.

And the way he’d
stood up for me back there.

And the way he’d
put his hand against the small of my back . . .

What a strange
weekend. After Tucker and I got home that night, we talked for a little while
then said goodnight. He had to be up at 5:00 the next morning, with a long
48-hour shift ahead of him. It had been such a bizarre evening. Hardly what I
would consider a legitimate first date. Who knew if there would be a second? Or
third? Still, it was really nice of him to let us stay at his house while we
got the townhouse aired out.

By the time we
went back to the apartment Sunday night, the smell had subsided considerably. I’m
guessing they kept our windows open the entire weekend. An exterminator had
been by and said he didn’t find any more mice inside, though there was nothing
he could do about the dead ones in the walls. Sandra and I had a long talk and
decided to start looking for a house to rent. Nothing as nice as Tucker’s, of
course. But we both agreed it would be nice to live in a real house and not
share the “joys” of neighborly problems like mice.

Or so we hoped.

Chapter 18

Monday morning
when I walked into the office, an enormous bouquet of red roses feathered with
a mass of baby’s breath sat on the corner of Mrs. Baker’s desk. I guessed there
were easily two dozen roses in the arrangement.

“Who’s the lucky
girl?” I asked as Mrs. B looked up.

“Why, you are,
Shelby. Aren’t they lovely?”

I stopped in my
tracks. “For me? Oh, I’m sure there’s been some mistake.”

Sandra whipped
around me, grabbing the card out of the arrangement. “Nope. No mistake. Says
Shelby
Colter
clear as day. Ooohh, I wonder who could have sent them?” she teased,
waggling her perfectly sculptured brows.

“And that’s not
all,” Debra called from the back. “Your mystery admirer sent something for the
rest of us too.”

Now this was just
too weird. Who would send me flowers and something else to my co-workers? I
snatched the card from Sandra’s hand and opened the envelope.

Shelby,

How
about a do-over first date?

Saturday
night at the Peabody.

I
reserved us a
booth
 . . .

(Chairs
can be hazardous

 to
one’s date, you know.)

Tucker

My face began to
warm.

“Well? Who sent
them?” Sandra stomped impatiently. “I bet I know,” she sang like the tattletale
she apparently was.

“Yeah, Shelby, who
sent the Moonpies?” Rebecca shouted from the back office.

“Moonpies?” I
said, the heat on my face now scorching.

“Two boxes of
them!” Chelsea chimed in, already enjoying one of the chocolate confections.
“Our card isn’t signed. It was just addressed to
The Hostesses of BMH
.”

I made my way to
the back office and grabbed the card from Chelsea’s hand. Tucker would
definitely hear about this.

Mrs. Baker stood
in the doorway. “Well, Shelby?”

I straightened
by back and headed to my cubicle to stash my purse. “They’re from Tucker
Thompson,” I said quietly. “We’re just―”

“I knew it!”
Sandra clapped her hands. “Flowers after a first date? How sweet is that? He
must really be stuck on you!”

“You had a date
with Dr. Thompson?” Chelsea asked, wiping chocolate from her mouth. “Whoa,
girlfriend, that didn’t take long.”

“No, it isn’t
like that! We’re just―”

“Yeah, yeah,
you’re just friends.” Debra taunted. “Of course you are. Which is why you went
out on a date and he sent you roses. Riiiiiight.”

“All right,
girls, that’s enough,” Mrs. Baker said. “Get your things and get to work.
Time’s a wasting.”

I couldn’t get
out of there fast enough. I gathered my supplies, reached for my new patient
cards, and headed out the door while trying to ignore the seductive scent of
those roses wafting through the entire office. Instead of breakfast in the
cafeteria, I decided to go on up to my floor and get to work. I wasn’t sure why
I was so embarrassed that Tucker had sent me roses—and those blasted Moonpies
to the girls—but I didn’t want to think about it at the moment.

I made my rounds
early then stopped in to see Donnie. I’d dropped by to see him after church on
Sunday, but he was downstairs having more tests run. I’d left him a silly note
and a bag of jelly beans. His favorite.

I could tell
when I walked in, he wasn’t feeling well. “Hey, buddy. How are you this
morning?”

“Hey, Shelby.
Thanks for the jelly beans. You forgot to take out the red ones, of course.”

I put my hand
over my mouth in fake-shock. “I forgot. Will you ever forgive me?”

“I doubt it.” He
took a deep breath and waved me over to sit down.

“Talk to me,
Donnie. What’s going on?”

“It’s rather
frightening, actually.” Not a trace of humor on his face or in his voice.

Oh, please,
Lord. No.

“I’m having a
brain transplant. Mine is useless, you see, and they―”

“You are
not
funny.” I swatted his arm.

He quirked a
lazy smile at me. “Oh, come on, you have to admit that was pretty funny.”

“Not in the
least.”

“But I had you
going there for a minute, didn’t I?”

“I don’t like
you any more. In fact, I’m going to put in a request and have you moved to the
psyche floor. They have lovely robes up there that tie in the back. You’ll look
dashing.”

“Well, that’s
not gonna work.”

“Yeah? And why’s
that?”

“Because I’m
having bypass surgery today around noon. Which means I’ve had nothing to eat
and I’ll have to skip the yummy gruel at lunch.”

I stared at him.
Then I narrowed my eyes. “Is this another joke?”

“Oh, if only it
was, my dear.”

“Donnie, I’m so
sorry.”

“No, don’t be
sorry. It’s all good. Better they unplug me now than plop me on a cold hard
slab in your mortuary. I’ve got 65 percent blockage. Not good. Even at my age.”

He told me all
about the tests, the consultations, and the conflicting diagnoses he’d
received. It was so rare to have that much blockage at his age. But in the end,
they all agreed surgery was mandatory.

“Are you
scared?” I asked, reaching for his hand.

“Me? Scared?” he
scoffed. He creased a fold in the blue blanket over his legs.
“Out-of-my-mind-and-
then
-some scared,” he whispered.

I felt my eyes sting.
“But you know you’ll feel so much better afterward, right?”

He just nodded then
turned to look out the window.

“Donnie, would
you let me pray with you?”

He inhaled then
let it out slowly. “Oh, that’s really sweet, Shelby. But I don’t think so.”

“Really?” I
said, before stopping myself. We’d both been active in Campus Crusade at
Samford. Donnie sang and played the piano with our praise band. He’d even gone
on a mission trip with us to the Dominican Republic. I remembered how great he
was with all the kids. They loved him.

But then, we all
loved him.

“I’m not into
the whole God thing much anymore.” He avoided eye contact with me.

I felt like I’d
been sucker-punched. “Oh . . . I’m sorry. I just assumed―”

“Oh, I know. We
were a bunch of Jesus freaks and all that. But it was just a phase. At least
for me.”

I couldn’t
figure out what to say. Or what
not
to say.

He squeezed my
hand. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you if you’re still into all that
stuff.”

All that
stuff?
How could this be the same Donnie I used to sing duets with? How
could this be the same Donnie who gave such a beautiful testimony to those kids
in the Dominican about how God loved him in spite of his shortcomings and sins?
Where was the joy that used to sparkle in his eyes when he shared his faith
with others? I couldn’t believe it.

“Donnie, I want
so badly to ask―”

“And I promise,
we’ll talk about it. We will.” He squeezed my hand again. “I just can’t right
now. Not right before my surgery. I hope you understand.”

I nodded even
though I didn’t understand at all. Now it was my turn to take a deep breath and
blow it out. I peeked at him sheepishly. “But I’m still gonna pray for you.
Today. And tonight. And tomorrow while you’re in surgery―”

“Pray away,
Sister Rayce Catherine. Pray away.”

I held up my
hand, moving it in the sign of the cross like a priest giving a blessing, an
attempt of a smile plastered on my face.

He mimicked my
actions, adding a monkish Latin-chant-incantation as he moved his hand.
“My-father-plays-dominoes-better-than-yours-does . . . ah-ah-ah-mennn.”

“Love you, Donnie.”

“Love you,
Shelby.”

I rode the
elevator down to the main lobby. Just as I stepped out of it, I heard my name
paged. I wasn’t in the mood for any more teasing back in the office, so I
picked up the nearest hall phone. “You paged Shelby Colter?”

“Yes, Miss
Colter,” the switchboard operator said. “I’ll connect you.”

“Shelby?”

Tucker?
I
couldn’t believe he was calling. What would I say about the roses?

“Oh, hi, Tucker.
I, uh―”

“Shelby, I
wanted to let you know. They just brought Dr. Love into the emergency room.”

“What?” My heart
pounded.

“I only have a
minute. I’m due in surgery with another patient, but I wanted to let you know.
Just pray.”

“Oh, Tucker,
what―”

“I’ll call you
when I get out. Gotta run.”

I hung up and
just stood there. I couldn’t think what to do. Should I go up to the prayer
room on my floor and pray? Should I go down to the emergency room waiting area
and look for Elsie?

Just then Mrs.
Baker whipped by me. I reached out to catch her arm. “Oh, Mrs. Baker, did you
hear―”

“I know. I’m on
my way. Let’s go.”

The waiting room
in the ER quickly filled with members of First Baptist. Mrs. Baker immediately
engulfed Elsie Love in a hug and didn’t leave her side. I recognized a lot of
faces but didn’t really know these people yet. Almost as soon as that thought
drifted through my mind, Rachel arrived.

“Oh, Shelby! I
came as soon as I heard.” She looked across the room at Elsie and Mrs. Baker.
“Is Dr. Love okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know
yet. Tucker just called and told me they’d brought Dr. Love in.”

“He seemed fine
at church yesterday. I can’t imagine―”

“Wait,” I said.
“When I met with him last week he seemed really short of breath.”

She tugged my
arm toward the chairs and lowered herself into one. “He’s had some health
issues in the past. We’ve always worried about him, carrying so much weight. The
man does love to eat.” I sat down beside her. “Shelby, we should pray.” She
reached for my hand and bowed her head. Rachel had the most natural faith of
anyone I’d ever known. Her soft-spoken prayer came right from her heart and
brought tears to my eyes as she asked God to protect our pastor from whatever
had brought him here. If only I could have prayed with Donnie like this.

As we chatted
with some of the church members, we learned that Dr. Love had been at his
weekly breakfast with a group of men he mentors. They said he kept losing his
train of thought and had trouble using his fork. A couple of the men who were
there said they were afraid he was having a stroke.

Just then, Elsie
was called back to talk to the doctor. At her request, Mrs. Baker accompanied
her. A short time later my boss returned and filled us in.

“Thomas is
stable. They’re monitoring him and have him scheduled for some tests. They’ll
definitely be admitting him, so we’ll need to move to the first floor waiting
area until we hear more. Elsie is going to stay with him for now and she said
to thank you all for coming. Those of you who wish to stay, follow me.”

Everyone
gathered their belongings and went upstairs with Mrs. Baker. I followed Rachel
to her office. “Are you okay? You look a little flushed, Rachel.”

“I know. I’m not
sure how much longer I can keep working.” She lowered herself into her chair
behind her desk as I took a seat across from her. “I’d hoped to work until my
ninth month, but I think little Cooper has other ideas.” She picked up a file
folder and started fanning herself.

“I hope you’ll
give notice and start getting some rest. I can’t imagine how you’ve managed
this long.”

“Once I got past
the morning sickness, I was fine. But Cooper keeps parking on my sciatic nerve
and the pain can be pretty unbearable at times. Dr. Forsythe says I need to get
off my feet as much as I can. Rich wanted me to stop working a month ago. So
we’ll see.”

“Listen to your
husband. Let someone else count the BMH beans for a while.”

She laughed and
leaned back in her chair. “Wait. Back up a sec. Earlier, when we were down in
the ER waiting room, did you say Tucker called you about Dr. Love?”

“What?  Oh.
Yeah. He paged me. He was going into surgery but he’d heard they’d
brought―”

“Am I missing
something here?” She tilted her head slightly.

“What do you
mean?”

“Tucker called
you.”

Then it hit me.
Rachel and I hadn’t had much time together lately. She had no idea.

“Oh. Well, we . . .
uh . . .”

“You? And Tucker
Thompson?” Her face lit up.

I shot her a
silly smile.

“What?!” She
spun her chair to face me directly. “Shelby! You didn’t tell me you were dating
Tucker!”

“Rachel, we
aren’t ‘dating’ per se. We just went out the other night. And the whole evening
was actually kind of weird.”

“Weird how?”

I told her about
our strange date, starting with the mice then the chair incident at the
restaurant, ending with my weekend stay at his house with Sandra.

She grinned from
one ear to the other. “And?”

I busied myself
studying my cuticle. “And he sent me flowers this morning,” I mumbled.

“He sent you
flowers?” She was clearly enjoying our conversation. “What kind of flowers?”

“Roses. Lots and
lots of roses,” I said with a sheepish grin. “With a funny card asking for a
‘do-over’ first date.”

Her smile grew
wider.

“At the
Peabody.”

Her eyebrows
lifted at least half an inch up her forehead. “The Peabody?” she whispered.

“Yes. The
Peabody.”

“Well, then. I
suppose that tells me all I need to know.”

The expression
on her face was so goofy, I had to laugh. I cleared my throat and stood up.
“And on that happy note, I need to get back to work.”

“I’d get up but―”

“Don’t you dare.
And put in your notice, Rachel. Go home and go to bed. Dr. Colter’s orders,” I
said as I walked out her door.

“Let me know if
you hear anything about Dr. Love,” she added.