Blue Like Elvis (20 page)

Chapter 29

The rest of the
day we were at war.

The group was
divided into four teams and we competed in all kinds of crazy games and skills.
Tug of war, silly relay races, a scavenger hunt, and even a shaving cream fight
followed by exploding sacks of flour. It was all so ridiculous, but we had the
best
time. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d played so hard and laughed so
much.

Thankfully the
showers weren’t completely cold when we all cleaned up, though I craved the
steaming hot water of my shower at home. But by dinnertime, the last remnants
of the pasty goo were gone, and we enjoyed chili and cornbread by the campfire.
The Killer Bs were preoccupied with their “big surprise” and kept running off
into the woods. I was convinced more than ever those two should have gone on a
middle school outing instead of our singles adventure. One of the other guys
had seen a stash of fireworks in their tent, so we all braced ourselves for whatever
they had up their sleeves.

We sang again,
then Dr. Krause talked to us about the importance of staying sexually pure in a
society that ridiculed such behavior. Thankfully, Burt and Bobby had scampered
off so we could avoid their childish reactions to the topic. But George talked
so sensibly about the subject, I don’t think any of us were uncomfortable. He
reminded us how the world had confiscated the beautiful gift God intended us to
have, substituing it with a cheap knock-off. He gave examples of Hollywood’s
lies on the subject in the movies we’d all seen. And yet, he never talked down
to us, never lectured us in that sense. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he was
sure good at it.

I couldn’t tell if
it was the breeze against the night air or just a long day of lots of physical
activity, but I was having a hard time staying awake toward the end of Dr.
Krause’s talk. When he finished, Tucker and I chatted a while then I begged
off, wanting to call it a night and go crawl in my sleeping bag.

“What, and miss
more-S’mores?”

“But I’m tired,
Tucker.”

“Too tired for
Tucker? I’m offended.”

“No, that’s not
what I said. I’m just beat.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll
let you get some sleep if you go down by the lake with me for a few minutes
first.”

“Tucker . . .”
I whined.

“A few minutes,
that’s all. I promise.”

I tilted my head,
already imagining the soft cool liner of my sleeping bag. I huffed for his
benefit. “Okay-fine-whatever.”

“Gee, don’t sound
so thrilled, Moonpie.” He took my hand and led me down the path.

“Anyone ever tell
you how stubborn you are, Tucker?”

“Yeah. You. About 20
years ago. Over and over and—”

“Well, that’s
because you take stubborn to a new art form.”

“Stop whining. It’s
beautiful out here, see?”

We took a seat on
an old tree log at the edge of the beach. He put his arm around me and drew me
close.

“You’re right. It
is. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so crabby. I’m just tired.”

“Not used to
shaving cream fights, eh?” He leaned his head on mine.

“Evidently not,” I
said, then changed subjects. “So, no pages from Rich?”

“Nope, not yet.”

“I wonder how Rachel’s
doing. I can’t imagine what she must be thinking right now. Wondering if any
minute her baby will be born.”

“Ever witness
childbirth?”

I pulled back to
look at him. “Me? Not hardly.”

“It’s a beautiful
thing. Whether it’s natural or c-section or something in between, it’s
beautiful. To see those little buggers twist their little red faces up,” he said,
acting out the part, “then belt out that first good cry—there’s nothing like
it.”

“I’m looking
forward to it someday.”

“Yeah? You want a
lot of kids?”

“I don’t know. I
haven’t really thought about a number. I just know I want children. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely. At
least a dozen or so.”

“A
dozen
?!
Well, then. I guess—”

Suddenly, shots
rang out. They came in rapid-fire succession, sounding like we were in a war
zone.

“What the heck?”
Tucker cried out.

“Stay down,
everyone!” we heard George shout.

We could hear everyone
shouting and rushing around, the voices wild with panic.

Tucker leaned
close to me. “Stay here, Shelby! I need to go see what’s going on.”

“Tucker, no!”

“I’ll be fine. Just
stay low until I get back.” With that he was gone.

The commotion
continued as more shots rang out. Then I heard Tucker yell, “Is anybody hurt?”

I couldn’t just
sit there, so I crawled back toward the campsite. Everyone had hit the deck and
seemed to be as bewildered as I was. As far as I could tell, no one had been
hurt. More shots rang and everyone lowered themselves to the ground again. That’s
when the screaming commenced.

“OUCH! OUCH! OUCH!
I’M HIT! I’M HIT!”

“PUT IT OUT! PUT
IT OUT!”

Across the way to
my far right, a spectacle of lights bounced erratically around the inside of a
tent. Some of the lights shot right through the tent walls arcing into the
night sky. Others seemed to just keep bouncing around inside. Against the
backlight of all that commotion, we saw two silhouettes dancing wildly inside
the tent.

Just then, another
round of explosions went off. Bobby came flying out of the tent.

“I’M HIT! I’M HIT!
HELP ME! I’M HIT!”

Burt followed
close behind, backing out of the tent as more of the apparent bottle rockets
chased him. He stumbled, falling back on the ground, then quickly back-crawled
away from the fireworks which continued going off inside the tent.

“MY BUTT! MY BUTT!
IT’S ON FIRE!” Bobby ran around the campsite, his hands on his backside,
occasionally stopping to jump up and down and wail like a banshee.

“Trevor! Where are
you? Go get the First Aid kit!” Tucker shouted, jumping up to help Bobby. “Calm
down, Bobby! Just calm down!” he said, trying to grab hold of his arm.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!
IT HURTS! I’M DYYYING! IT HURTS SO BAD!”

“Stop it! Listen
to me!” Tucker said, yanking him to a stop. “You’re not dying. Come over here
on the table and let me take a look at it.”

“SOMEBODY CALL AN
AMBULANCE! I’M DYING! I TELL YOU, I’M DYING!”

“You’re not dying,
Bobby, so shut up!” Burt scolded, approaching his friend.

I rushed to Burt’s
side. “You don’t look so good,” I said. “There’s blood all over your face. Come
sit down.”

“What? Oh my GOSH!
I’ve been HIT! I’M HIT TOO!”

“You’re fine, just
calm down. We’ll get Trevor and Tucker to take a look in a minute. Come here
and sit down.” I led him over to another table and helped him sit. Some of the
others grabbed dishtowels and poured water on them so we could gently start cleaning
Burt’s face and try to find the source of the bleeding.

“NO!” Bobby
screamed again, behind me. “You’re not going to pull my pants down in front of
all the girls! NO! Stay away from me!”

Tucker turned
toward the crowd. “Ladies? If you’ll move away from the campsite and give our
friend here some privacy? George, you want to escort the ladies down to the
water for a minute?”

Trevor returned
with the First Aid kit. Once they convinced Bobby his female audience was gone,
he let them attend to his wounds. I had my back toward him as I continued
cleaning Burt’s face, finally realizing the blood was coming from cuts on his
forearms. Apparently he’d suffered some lacerations, then, while shielding his
face, inadvertently smeared blood all over his face.

“You’re going to
be fine,” I said quietly. “As soon as Tucker checks out your buddy over there,
he can take care of those cuts. Okay?”

“I guess,” he
said, his voice shaky. “Is Bobby gonna be okay?”

I refrained from
looking over my shoulder, not wanting to invade the other B’s privacy and risk
getting him riled up again. I could hear Trevor and Tucker discussing the
situation as they worked.

“Is he going to be
okay?” Burt called to them.

“Oh, I think he’ll
survive,” Trevor said calmly. “But we probably need to get him to the ER.”

“YOU’RE TAKING ME
TO THE HOSPITAL?!” Bobby screamed, just before breaking into a full-scale sob.

“Bobby! Knock it
off! We’ll get you cleaned up as best we can, but you need more medical
attention than we can provide here. Wouldn’t you rather be in a nice, sterile
environment than out here in the woods?”

“Yeah-huh,” he
cried, sounding like a five year old.

“Good. Let us
finish cleaning these wounds, then we’ll make you comfortable and get you back
to town.”

“Okay,” he
whimpered.

“Take me, too!”
Burt cried. “Look! See my arms? They’re all shot to pieces!”

“We’ll take you,
Burt. Just calm down,” Tucker said, obviously weary of the behavior. “Shelby,
how’s it look? Have you been able to stop the bleeding?”

“Not really. Can
you take a look?”

He stepped over
and checked out the multiple cuts on Burt’s forearms. “Yeah, looks like you’re
going to need some stitches too. Burt, what were you guys thinking? Don’t you
know not to play with firecrackers?”

Burt turned his
head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tucker looked at
me, rolling his eyes. He handed me a roll of gauze and some antibiotic
ointment. “See what you can do.”

Gradually, the
others returned, helping where they could. Several of the guys secured the
now-destroyed tent making sure there were no more surprises about to go off. Half
an hour later, we watched as Tucker and Trevor drove off with the two Killer Bs
in Trevor’s Jeep, with Bobby stretched out in the back on his stomach, his legs
awkwardly resting on Burt’s lap. Bobby wouldn’t be sitting for a long, long
time.

The rest of us
tried to get some sleep but the episode pretty much ruined the campout. We’d
all been stung by the Killer B’s tomfoolery. We decided to break camp after
breakfast and just go home.

I decided it would
be a long, long time until I ever embarked on another camping trip.

Chapter 30

After we got home,
I’d barely stepped out of the shower when the phone rang. I knew Sandra was
taking a nap, so I quickly wrapped a towel around me and tiptoed over to the
phone on my bedside table. I was relieved to hear Tucker’s voice on the other
end.

“So, how are the
boys? Did they survive the trip to the ER?”

“What? Oh, yeah.
They’re fine. But I think you need to get down here. Rich just called and said
he’s bringing Rachel in.”

“Oh, Tucker! That’s
wonderful! I’ll get dressed and be there as soon as I can!”

“Shelby . . .”

“What? What’s
wrong, Tucker?” Something snagged my heart.

“Rich said Rachel
hasn’t felt the baby move in a couple of days.”

No. NO! Absolutely
not.

This isn’t
happening.

God wouldn’t
let this happen.

“Are you still
there, Shelby?”

“Yes. I’m here. Is
he taking her to the ER?”

“Yes. I’ll meet
you there. Just hurry.”

I hung up then sat
down hard on my bed. A flurry of horrible images floated through my mind. I had
to stop them. I got dressed as fast as I could and jumped in my car. All the
way to Baptist, I kept begging God to save little Cooper. I prayed for Rich and
Rachel and their doctors, but I quickly realized I was snapping at God in those
prayers, demanding He come through for us. I thought of Donnie and how he’d
lost his faith when God didn’t save his sister. I wondered if I would lose mine
if—

No, God. Please,
no. Make a way. Make a miracle. Just please don’t let anything happen to this
sweet baby. Or Rachel . . .

Fifteen minutes
later I rushed into the ER waiting area. Several of Rachel and Rich’s friends
from church were already there along with a few of the singles who’d been on
the camping trip with us.

“What have you
heard?” I asked, joining them.

“Nothing yet,” a
guy named John answered. “Rachel and Rich got here about ten minutes ago. They’re
pretty upset.”

“Have you seen Tucker?”
I asked.

“He was down here
a few minutes ago. He wants you to page him.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I picked up the
wall phone, called the operator, and waited impatiently to hear his name called
over the PA system. A couple minutes later he showed up. I was surprised to see
him wearing scrubs.

“Come here.” He
took my hand and led me out to the hall away from the others.

I started to ask,
but the lump in my throat got in the way for a moment. “How’s Rachel? Is she
okay?” I whispered.

“She’s stable.
They’re monitoring her now. The baby’s heartbeat is very weak, so they’re going
to do a c-section. He’s got to come out now or he won’t make it.”

A sob escaped
before I could stop it. He gathered me into his arms. “Shelby, I need you to be
strong, okay? I’ve got to run. I’m putting her to sleep so I need to scrub up.”

I stepped back,
wiping my face. “I’m glad you’ll be there for her. Will you tell her I’m here
and I’m praying for her?”

He kissed my
forehead and turned to go. “I’ll do it. Just keep those prayers coming. They
need every one they can get right now.”

I dug a Kleenex
out of my purse and tried to dry my eyes as best I could before going back to
the waiting room. Just as I walked through the door, Dr. Love strode in from
the ER bay entrance.

“Shelby, how is Rachel?
I came as soon as I heard.”

He still looked a
little pale to me, but I was so glad to see him. “She’s going into surgery as
we speak. Tucker said they’re doing a c-section. The baby’s heartbeat is too
weak to wait.”

“Well, then. I
think we should round up the troops and have us a time of prayer. What do you
think?” He patted me on the back as we joined the others. Had it really only
been a few short weeks since we’d done the same thing for him in this same room?

Forty-five minutes
later, Rich appeared looking visibly relieved. “He made it! He’s okay!” Crocodile
tears gathered in his eyes before breaking free.

We all exploded in
overwhelming relief, smothering him with hugs.

“How’s Rachel?” I
asked when I got my turn to hug him.

“She’s still sedated.
She’ll be in recovery for at least a couple of hours, then moved to a private room
if everything goes well. I’m so glad Tucker was in there with her. They wouldn’t
let me in, so I’m glad he could be there for her.”

“And how’s that
son of yours, Rich?” Dr. Love asked, shaking his hand.

“He’s going to be
in Newborn Intensive Care for a day or two, but as far as we know, he’s fine.
Gave us quite a scare, but he’s fine. Just fine.”

“That’s just
great,” Dr. Love said, pounding him on his back. “And what did you name the lad?”

“Cooper Christopher
Bauer.”

“Well, now! That’s
a fine name. Good and strong, just like his father’s. Congratulations, Rich.
Will you give Rachel my best when she wakes up?”

Rich wrapped him
in a hug. “Will do, Dr. Love. Thank you so much for coming.”

The crowd began to
thin out after everyone had a chance to talk to Rich. Tucker showed up a little
while later and promptly dropped into the seat next to mine.

“I don’t know
about you, but I’m exhausted.”

I looped my arm through
his. “Yes, but you helped make sure Cooper had a birthday today, so what’s a
bit of fatigue compared to that?”

He squeezed my
hand. “Hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“And Rachel’s
really okay? I want to see her so badly, I can hardly stand it.”

“No problem. Come
along, my little Moonpie.”

He stood and led
me upstairs to the recovery room. I knew she’d still be sleeping, but I just
wanted to see her with my own eyes. We approached her bed. I pressed my lips
together, determined not to cry. She looked so peaceful sleeping there despite
all the monitors hooked up to her.

“You must have
done a really good job. The Rachel I know would never be sleeping if she knew
her little one had arrived.”

He draped his arm
over my shoulder. “That’s why they call me The Gasser, my love.”

I leaned into him,
surprised to hear the term of endearment, but content to watch my friend
resting so peacefully.

Tucker let out a
long yawn. “So, you wanna go check up on the boys now?”

I looked at him,
trying to decide if he was serious.

“Because I’m sure
they’d be happy to see you.”

“Thanks, but I
think I’ll take a pass. I’ve had about all the drama I can stand this weekend.”

I stepped over to
Rachel’s bedside and kissed her forehead before we left. On the way back
downstairs, Tucker asked if I wanted to take a peek at Cooper.

“Are you serious?
You can let me do that?”

“Hey, I’ve got
clout around here, remember? Just follow me.”

A few minutes
later we stood outside the window of the neonatal ICU. Tucker knocked on the
glass and waved at one of the nurses then pointed to one of the special newborn
beds. She nodded, then gently rolled the bed close enough to the window for us
to take a look at Rich and Rachel’s precious bundle of joy.

I’d thought I was
done with the tears, but I was wrong. He slept peacefully, just like his mother
downstairs, his face a healthy pink beneath a small blue stocking cap. Even
with that cap on, we could see the curly blonde hair sticking out every which
way.

“Will you look at
that . . . he looks just like a little Rich with a head full of
Rachel’s hair.”

“Cute little fella,
isn’t he?”

Just then, Cooper’s
face pinched up and he stretched, his tiny fists poking up into the air.

“I’m so glad he
made it. I can’t tell you how scared I was,” I whispered.

“We all were. You’re
looking at an absolute miracle, Shelby.”

A miracle . . . an absolute miracle.

Then, the strangest thought crossed my mind. Why would God
grant one miracle and not another? I wish I understood why He did what He did.
Because this hospital was filled with people needing miracles.

“Tucker, I need to do something. Okay if I catch up with you
later?”

“Sure. I’m going to check on Rich, then head on home. I’m
beat.” He walked me to the elevators then gave me a weary hug. “I’ll talk to
you later, okay?”

“Get some rest.”

A few minutes later I stepped off the elevator on Nine.
Sunday afternoons were a lot like evenings around a hospital. Quiet. Deserted.
Strange.

I tapped on Donnie’s door. “Anyone home?”

He glanced at me and used his remote to mute the television
mounted on the wall. “Hey girl. What are you doing here? It’s Sunday. Oh, wait.
Let me guess. You’re here to see Elvis and thought you’d stop by since you were
in the neighborhood?”

“Very funny.” I reached over and mussed up his hair before
taking a seat.

“Ah, I know . . .” He poked his foot out from
under the cover. “You came to say hello to Mr. Big Toe and give him the
pedicure, right?”

“Not hardly. But you’re right about one thing. He’s green.
That’s really disgusting, Donnie.”

“Yeah?” he mused, sticking his toe up for a better look. “Well,
bring some nail polish. Something in the burgundy family. We’ll just give him a
makeover and no one will ever know he’s green to the gills.”

“Will do.”

“So?”

“So I’m here because Rachel had her baby.”

“Congratulations! Girl or boy?”

“Boy. Cooper Christopher Bauer. Cutest little thing you ever
saw.”

“Well, I’d ask you to wheel me down for a look at the little
gipper, but I don’t trust you to wheel me
anywhere
.”

“Very funny. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. He’s in
neonatal ICU. He almost didn’t make it.”

“Oh, Shelby. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased about it. Is
he okay? Is Rachel okay?”

“Yes on both. He’s going to be fine, I think. Rachel’s good
too. They did a c-section, so her recovery will take a bit longer, but she’ll
be fine.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

I leaned back in my chair and folded my legs beneath me, Indian
style. “Tucker said it was a miracle that he made it.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. That bad.”

He looked at me, as if waiting for me to say something. I
couldn’t find the words. Donnie waited, the silence a little strange between
us.

“Something on your mind, Shelby?”

I studied his face. He’d lost so much weight. His color was
worse. Even his voice had weakened. I hated what all that meant.

“Have you heard anything?”

“About what?”

“About a possible transplant.”

“Oh. That.”

“Yes,
that.
”

“They put me on the list last night.”

“They did? Donnie that’s great! I’m so relieved!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to feel so much better when you have a
new heart!”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you hear yourself? You used those
exact same words when I was about to have my surgery when they brought me in
here a thousand weeks ago. ‘Oh Donnie! You’ll feel so much better once you have
your surgery!’”

I didn’t particularly care for his mimicry, but I certainly
hoped I didn’t sound anything like it. “Be nice. I was trying to encourage you.
How could I have known the surgery wouldn’t take care of your problem?”

“That’s just it. Don’t you see? There are no promises here.
So what if I get some poor sucker’s heart who gets his head shot off.”

“Donnie!”

“Well, you don’t exactly get to pick the circumstances for
the donor’s ability to ‘donate,’ if you catch my drift.”

“Still. Don’t be crass.”

“Oh, I’ll be crass if I want to. I’m just saying, someone’s
got to die in order for me to live. That’s not much of a game plan. And even
then, there are no guarantees. My body might reject it. And even if it doesn’t,
the survival rate after a heart transplant is 14 to 18 months tops. What’s the
point?”

“The point is, Mr. Glass Half Empty, your body will probably
accept your new heart and you’ll go on to live a long and productive life.”

“Or not.”

When I scowled at him, he just shrugged. “Well, as long as
you’re on that list, you can bellyache all you want about it, but when the time
comes, you’ll be glad you were.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. And for the record, someone’s already died
so that you could live, Donnie.”

His face registered confusion but only for a moment. “Ah yes,
and here comes the sermon. Shall I pass the offering plate first or do we want
to sing a couple of hymns first?” He did a ridiculous imitation of Jim Nabors
singing
Just a Closer Walk with Thee.

“Very funny.”

“Oh, better yet—how about a little Elvis?
Then sings my
soul . . .
” Donnie sat up, striking the famous Elvis pose
complete with an imaginary microphone.
“How great Thou art . . .”

“Enough! Enough. I get it.”

He leaned back against his pillow. “Sweetie, we’ve been all
through that topic and you know how I feel about it.”

“I know,” I said quietly, looking down at my hands. “I just
witnessed a miracle this afternoon. And I’m thinking another one’s due. That’s
all.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out with great gusto. “Oh,
my little friend, if only it was that easy.”

“Who says it isn’t?”

“Don’t, Shelby. Please? I don’t want to fight with you.”

 “Yeah? Well, I’m not giving up. Whether you like it or not.”

“Pray on, sister. Just make it quick. If some schmuck doesn’t
cash it in pretty soon, it won’t matter anyway.”

“Stop talking like that!” I yelled. I jumped up and leaned
over his bed, grabbing him in a fierce hug, suddenly losing all my composure. “I
can’t stand it! I don’t want you to die, Donnie!” I buried my face in his
shoulder, crying. “I don’t want you to die . . .”