Blue Like Elvis (25 page)

C
hapter 36

The entire next
day felt out of body to me. From the moment I woke up after only two hours of
sleep, I was quite sure it had all just been a long and vivid dream. I chuckled
at the absurdity of it.
Impossible.
I showered, dressed for work, and
was about to head out the door, when I saw it. There in my purse.

The handkerchief.

It really
happened?
It really happened!?

“What’s wrong? You
look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sandra teased, passing by me as she walked out our
front door.

I locked the door
behind me and followed her to her car. “You’re not going to believe it.”

“Believe what?”

I told her as we
climbed into her car.

“You’re right. I
don’t believe you.”

“Sandra! I’m
telling you the truth! Why would I lie?”

She backed out and
we were on our way. “I have no idea. It’s not like you, but it’s still
unbelievable. When I got home last night, you were in bed asleep.”

I pulled the
handkerchief out of my purse.

“What’s that?” she
asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

I shook it at her.
She glanced at it then did a double-take. That’s when she slammed on the
brakes.

“SANDRA! Look out!”

A car sped past
us, its horn blaring as the driver flashed a universal hand gesture. She
quickly pulled off the road into a convenience store parking lot and stopped
the car.

“That’s . . .
you mean, that’s . . .”

“Yes. It’s his. He
gave it to me because I couldn’t stop crying.”

She grabbed it
from my hand. She pressed it flat on her leg, smoothing her hand over those
initials. “Oh Shelby! ¿Tu conociste a Elvis Presley? You really
met
him?”
Then she held it up to her nose and took a whiff. “Brut! You really met him! I
can’t believe it!”

We were almost
late for work by the time we arrived at the BMH employee parking lot. I told
her everything. Everything he said, everything I said, and the way he sang the
hymn, so soft and intimate as if singing it in the very presence of the Lord.
She cried hearing that part, little softy that she was. Then came the squealing
and the mile-a-minute chatter, much of it in Spanish.

The chatter
continued through the rest of the day as Sandra told anyone and everyone about
my encounter with the King. The girls were all thrilled for me, with the
exception of Sarah Beth. Apparently I’d inadvertently encroached upon her sacred
Elvis territory. She waved it off, quite unimpressed. I couldn’t have cared
less.

It was hard to
concentrate on my work, but I did my best. I was surprised to find “a return
customer,” of sorts. When I checked my patient list, there was Mr. Wilbur
Wilcox, my favorite train engineer. I couldn’t remember how long it had been
since he was here—a month or so? The fact he was back so soon couldn’t be a
good thing.

I tapped on his
door and walked in. “Mr. Wilcox! How nice to see you a—” I stopped the minute I
laid eyes on him. He looked pale and withered, a shell of the man I’d seen only
weeks ago. I was absolutely shocked. “Mr. Wilcox, I . . . I’m
Shelby Colter, your hostess. Do you remember me?”

He slowly tracked
his eyes toward me and gave only the slightest hint of a smile as he nodded. “Yes.
I remember.” I could tell it took a lot for him to get those three words out.

I approached his
bed. “I would like to say it’s nice to see you again, but that’s not usually the
case when you work in a hospital. How are you?”

He shrugged,
looked away, then back at me. “I’ve been better,” he said, his voice raspy and
quiet.

I didn’t want to
tire him out, so I tried to make it brief. “I’m so sorry you’re not feeling
well. I’m sure the doctors and the staff will do everything they can to help
you get better. I’ll place my card here on your table in case you need
anything. Don’t hesitate to call me. For anything at all, okay?”

A slight nod of
the head and a weak smile was the best he could do.

I reached down and
touched his hand. “You take care, Mr. Wilcox. I’ll be praying for you.”

As soon as I left
the room, I bee-lined to the nurses’ station. “Helen, what’s going on with Mr.
Wilcox on 903? I can’t believe he’s already back. He looks so much worse than
before.”

“I couldn’t believe
it either. Apparently the procedure didn’t work as well as they’d hoped. And to
make matters worse, his wife didn’t give him the right dosage on his meds. She
told Dr. Wells she thought she could save money by only giving him one pill a
day instead of the six prescribed. Poor thing. She was so devastated when she
heard the doctor’s response about that, she broke down and went home. That was
about 4:30 yesterday afternoon. She hasn’t been back.”

“Helen, that’s so
sad! When they were here before, she never left his side.”

“I know. Slept on
that awful couch beside his bed every single night.”

“I hope she’s
okay. Has anyone heard from her?”

“Come to think of
it, no. Not that I know of.”

I just shook my
head looking down the hall toward his room. “Can they do anything for him?”

“I hope so. They’re
trying to figure out which approach to take at this point. He should have come
back weeks ago instead of letting himself get so weak.”

“Life gets so
complicated, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve got that
right. We’ll do what we can, Shelby. Thanks for asking about him.”

I made the rest of
my visits then headed to Donnie’s room looking forward to a nice long visit.
Just as I was about to tap on his door, I heard the Harvey team paged to ICU.
We heard those pages all the time, but I always tried to whisper a silent
prayer for the patient needing the assistance of that expert team. And this
time, I prayed it wasn’t Dr. Love.

I also prayed that
my friend on the other side of this door would never need them. I knocked gently
then entered Donnie’s room.

“Well, look what
the cat dragged in,” he snarked. “You look awful.”

“Gee, thanks,
Donnie.”

“Come. Sit. Tell
Mr. Rogers what’s going on. Shall I call for some cookies and warm milk?”

I took the seat
next to his bed. “No, thanks. But where’s your sweater that zips up the front,
Mr. Rogers?”

He snapped his
fingers. “I knew I forgot something. I’ll call Goldsmiths and have them send
over a couple. Any particular color preference?”

“Oh, one of every
color, I’d think.” I smiled.

He tilted his head
and narrowed his eyes. “I bet you
think
that’s a smile, but it’s
actually a rather pitiful
attempt
of a smile. What’s got you so blue
today?”

I told him about
Mr. Wilcox and quickly noticed his countenance began to fall.
Nice one,
Shelby. Cheer up your severely cardiac-challenged friend with the tale of
another serious cardiac patient’s woes.
I waved him off. “You don’t need to
hear all this. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m
not the only sad heart on this floor. I’m sorry to hear about his situation.
But I’m sure you brightened his day with your Susie hostess spiel.”

“Cute. Very cute.
Unfortunately, Mr. Wilcox was so weak, he couldn’t respond much at all. But
enough about all that. How are you?”

“Oh, just a laugh
a minute. Having the time of my life.” He pursed his lips and lifted a brow. It
was one of my favorite Donnie-isms.

“You know all the
nurses up here love you. They all have Donnie stories they love to share. You’re
quite the rock star up here.”

He rolled his
eyes. “I get that everywhere I go. Never a moment’s peace. The autographs, the
constant flash of the cameras, blah blah blah. Such is the life of a celebrity.
But someone’s got to do it, right?”

I grabbed his arm.
“Celebrities! Donnie, I forgot to tell you! Guess who I met last night?”

“Well, let’s see.
I watched Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show, so it couldn’t have been him. And
I know Bob Hope is on tour again in some faraway war zone—” He stopped abruptly
and sucked a lungful of air so fast, I thought he’d pass out. “You met ELVIS?!”
he screeched in a half-whisper, half-squeal.

“I did! I finally
did!” I clapped my hands like a shameless adolescent.

He threw his head
back on his pillow, practically wheezing with laughter. “Tell me EVERYTHING. Don’t
leave out a single syllable. Sit! Start. Now!”

“Well, I couldn’t
sleep so I—”

“No!” He grabbed
my arm. “No, I can’t wait. Tell me now. Did he kiss you?”

“Donnie! Eww? No,
he didn’t
kiss
me! He’s twice my age and besides—”

“Besides what? You
don’t like world famous celebrities who are filthy rich and have the world on a
string?”

Now it was my turn
to purse my lips. “No, I do not, thank you very much. And for the record, the
thought never even crossed my mind. Now. Do you mind if I tell you what
happened?”

He straightened
his blanket over his legs, folded his hands on his lap, and shot me a look. “Do
tell. I’m all ears.”

And I told him. He
asked a million questions, just like Sandra had. He made more wild jokes and we
laughed so hard—something we both needed.

“Did he have on
all that gold jewelry? Was he wearing the famous TCB lightning bolt necklace?”

“No, I don’t
remember seeing it, so I guess not. But he did have rings on every finger of
both hands. Oh, and a gorgeous watch. When he put his hand over mine, I noticed
how unique it was. A huge silver thing. Like antique silver, you know? And a wristband
studded with a bunch of stunning turquoise stones and diamonds. It looked like
something you’d buy in New Mexico.”

“Or Vegas?”

I smiled. “Good
point.”

“No cape?”

“No cape. He was
actually dressed fairly normal. I noticed he put a hat on as he left. Looked
like a fedora. Maybe that was his low-key disguise to get through the hospital
at that hour of the night.”

“Bummer. I was
hoping he wore the cape.”

“You would.”

“And he really
sang to you?”

“Well, no, he didn’t
sing to
me.
It was more like he was singing for Dr. Love. Almost like a
prayer on his behalf. It was really beautiful. I wish you could have heard it.”

“You and me both.
In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for not inviting me down to join
your private party.”

“Donnie! It was
hardly a ‘party’! I was in that prayer room bawling my eyes out when he came
in. What was I supposed to do? Say, ‘Excuse me, Mr. Presley, while I go fetch
my friend Donnie. You just wait right here until I get back.’ Oh, that would
have been class. Pure class.”

He stuck his chin
up in the air. “So you say.”

“Don’t be silly. And
get this. He told me he sometimes sneaks into our church to hear Dr. Love
preach. He comes incognito. The whole nine yards. Can you imagine?”

“What’s his
disguise? An Elvis impersonator?”

I laughed again at
that one. “I don’t know but it’s not a bad idea, if you think of it. You better
believe I’m going to be on the lookout next time I go to church. So tell me,
what’s the latest? Have you heard anything?”

“Yes. In fact,
just today they told me they’re renaming the whole wing for me now that I’ve
officially become their longest-staying prisoner—er, guest. There’s to be a
ceremony, the posting of a plaque—you must come.”

“I sent in my
RSVP. Didn’t you get it?”

“Good one.”

“So, what are the
chances of you telling me what really happened and not trying to pull my leg?”

“Okay, fine.
Nothing new. There’s never anything new. They run tests. They ‘consult’. They run
more tests. My levels are up. My levels are down. Meanwhile, I sit here on my
butt, day after day after day. Case closed.”

“I just can’t
believe it’s been so long. It absolutely boggles the mind. But then, I’m not a
doctor.”

“And we’re all
grateful for that.”

I whacked him
playfully then stood up. “I need to go. I’ll pop in before I leave this
afternoon, okay?”

“Pop away, my
dearest. Pop away.”

As soon as I
stepped into the office, I knew.

Mrs. Baker wasn’t
seated behind her desk. I found her crying in the back office. Several of the
girls sat around her, consoling her, many of them crying as well. Mindy’s arm
was wrapped over her shoulder. I caught Sandra’s eye and let my face ask the
question. She nodded, confirming what I suspected.

Dr. J. Thomas Love
was gone.

He had slipped
from this world into the presence of His beloved Lord.

I turned around
and left.

C
hapter 37

By the time Sunday
rolled around, I really wasn’t in the mood to go to church. I had such an ache
in my soul, still desperately wishing I’d had just one last chance to thank Dr.
Love. To tell him how much he meant to me, how much he helped me, and how much
I loved him. I kept remembering that night in the prayer room with Elvis.

“I just hope I
get the chance to thank him for all the ways he helped me . . .”

“Don’t you
worry about it. He knows. Tommy Love knows.”

In the greater
scheme of things, I suppose it didn’t really matter. But it mattered to me. It
seemed so strange to feel such deep sorrow for the loss of someone I’d only
known a few months. But that’s just the kind of man he was. He always made you
feel like the dearest of friends. The world would be a sadder place without “Tommy
Love.” I knew mine would be.

Still, I hadn’t
been to church in a while, so I thought I should go. Sandra was working the ER
that weekend, so I went alone. Even at 10:30 in the morning, the mid-July heat
was miserable. Just walking from my car to the sanctuary, I could feel the
perspiration beneath my dress. Everyone had told me Tennessee summers were hot,
but this was brutal.

I stepped inside
the foyer, thankful for the blast of air conditioning that greeted me along
with the famous Candy Man. Everyone at First Baptist knew the Candy Man. Charlie
Driscoll served as an usher, manning his post faithfully every Sunday, greeting
worshipers with a bag full of candy. The kids loved him. The children’s
teachers? Well, that was a different story. After stoking up on sweets, the
kids would roar into Sunday school on a sugar high, leaving their teachers and
workers at wits end.

I selected a
wrapped peppermint, thanked Charlie, then made my way into the sanctuary and
took a seat. As I unwrapped the candy, I felt someone brush against my back,
passing through the row behind me. I turned just in time to see Tucker sit
down. Our eyes locked for a split second. It was the first time I’d seen him this
close since our fight. Sure, it had crossed my mind that he might be at church
today, but I figured I’d just avoid him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a plan B.

“Hi, Shelby.”

“Hi, Tucker.”

“How are you?”

“Good, thanks.
You?”

“Good.”

So. It’s come
to this. Polite conversation and nothing more.

The organ saved
the day, blaring into a majestic version of
A Mighty Fortress is Our God.
I
smiled at Tucker then turned back around, more than grateful for the
interruption. Of course, my mind was focused on the individual sitting behind
me, so little else during the service filtered in. Mrs. Baker’s husband, the
reverend, opened his message with a kind tribute to Dr. Love. Our programs
included a picture of our pastor along with a brief note and a time for this
afternoon’s memorial service. As the sermon began, I looked down at Dr. Love’s
photograph, felt a sting in my eyes, and quickly tucked it inside my Bible.

When the service
was over, I knew there was no way to leave without talking to Tucker. I decided
to take the high road and act like nothing in the world was wrong.

“I hear you went
to Nashville,” I said as we each emerged from our rows into the aisle.

“I was. Spent
about a week there for a conference. It’s good to be home. Although I was sure
sorry to hear of Dr. Love’s passing. Trevor called and told me. Will you be at
the memorial service this afternoon?”

“Of course. I want
to pay my respects.” I really wanted to get off the subject and keep the tears
at bay.

“Well, then. I’ll
see you later.”

With that, he
turned and left. I hated this. Hated the awkwardness of it all. I’d had so
little time to think about what had happened—no, I take that back. I’d
avoided
thinking about Tucker as much as I could. It all seemed so stupid. And yet,
I could still feel the resentment, a slow burn deep within me. No matter how
hard I tried, I couldn’t convince myself Tucker was right about my brother. I
knew better. I’d seen Jimmy with my own eyes. He was fine. Footloose, perhaps,
but fine.

And yet . . .
and yet, I missed Tucker terribly. Seeing him was even harder than I’d
imagined. I’d missed his sweet smile, that goofy look in his eyes when he
teased me, the compassion on his countenance for others. Regardless what I’d
told Rachel, Tucker Thompson was a good, good man. He’d just stepped over a
line. One I was not yet ready to forgive.

Not that he’d
asked.

I grabbed a quick
bite to eat at Danver’s, then ran a couple of errands in town before heading
back to the church for the memorial service. I knew the church would be packed,
so I made sure I got there in plenty of time. Or so I thought. I had to park in
the farthest parking lot, then as I got closer, I found myself blocked behind a
large group of senior citizens, some with canes. I didn’t know it was humanly
possible to walk that slow. By the time I finally stepped inside the sanctuary,
there were only a few seats left on the first floor. I ducked off to the right
and took the stairs to the balcony, hoping for a better seat. It was nearly
full as well. I found a seat on the back row and made the best of it.

When I finally
looked below, I saw the casket. A stunning mass of red roses blanketed the
coffin. I swallowed hard and reached into my purse for a tissue. There, beside
my billfold and keys was the handkerchief. I felt a slight smile as I folded it
into my hand. It felt right somehow, holding this reminder of the man who also
loved my pastor. In a strange sort of way, I felt comforted just holding it in
my hand.

The family entered
as the organ quietly played
Jesus, the Very Thought of Thee.
I spotted
Mrs. Baker, not far behind Elsie in the procession. Not family, but certainly
the best of friends. Reverend Baker was already on the platform. He would be
giving the eulogy. Once everyone was seated, the service began. From start to
finish, it was wonderfully befitting the man whose life we celebrated. Reverend
Baker’s message was touching, filled with humorous anecdotes of his life-long
friend who loved to laugh. He told one example after another of the many lives
forever changed because they’d crossed paths with Dr. Love. His voice cracked
as he bid a final farewell on behalf of the family, friends, and church family.

“Shall we pray,”
he said, and we all bowed our heads.

But just as I
started to bow my head, something caught my eye. I turned around after noticing
a man in sunglasses standing just a few feet from me near the exit. His blond
curly hair and beard struck out in stark contrast to his black pin-stripe suit.
As I glimpsed his way, he scratched his head. I noticed his whole head of hair
moved ever so slightly. As he nudged what appeared to be a strange toupee, I
saw it—there on his wrist, a turquoise and diamond watch. I blinked twice to
make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks. Just as he turned to leave, he looked
my way. He paused briefly, lowered his sunglasses, and tossed me a wink. Just
as quickly, he pushed his shades back in place, that wide crooked smile
creeping up the side of his face.

I smiled back.

In fact, in spite
of my sorrow, I don’t think I stopped smiling the rest of the day.