Blue Like Elvis (30 page)

“I’m so sorry I went, Shelby. The body in that casket didn’t
look a thing like Elvis. It looked like one of those figures at Madame Tussaud’s
Wax Museum. Nothing looked right. And now I’ll forever have that image locked
in my brain instead of the Elvis I loved.”

I found it equally baffling that the funeral took place the
very next day on August 18th. How on earth had they been able to arrange a
funeral of that magnitude in less than 36 hours? A small funeral with only 200
invited guests was held in the living room at Graceland. Floral arrangements
blanketed the entire front lawn of the mansion. Local florists had been
inundated with orders from friends and fans around the world.

Later, television coverage showed the 17 white limousines
following the hearse with Elvis’s casket on the drive over to the cemetery.
Daddy jumped up, pointing to a silver Cadillac leading the procession ahead of
the hearse shown on television. My dad choked up and couldn’t speak. Even Cadillac
Jack was grieving.

 Elvis was laid to rest next to his mother at Forest Hill Cemetery.
Eleven days later three men broke into the cemetery and tried to steal his
casket. Charges were later dropped when they admitted they were just trying to
prove it was an empty casket, convinced Elvis was still alive. Elvis’s dad, Vernon,
would later have both Elvis and his mother moved to Meditation Garden at
Graceland.

I have to admit, I’m one of those who was always intrigued by
the supposed misspelling of Elvis’s middle name on his grave plaque. Over the
years, all kinds of explanations have been offered for what
could
be the
world’s worst typo. To this day the plaque reads
Elvis Aaron Presley
,
though every Elvis fan knows his middle name was spelled
Aron
on his
birth certificate
—
a name significant if you look just across the garden
at the memorial plaque for Elvis’s stillborn twin, Jesse G
aron
Presley. Then,
again, maybe Vernon just misspelled it the day Elvis was born. That same
original document lists his first name as “Evis.” Which should tell us that
spelling wasn’t a high priority in the Presley household.

I’m not sure why, but it took me a long time to get over the
death of Elvis. Tucker was strangely silent when I tried to ask him about what
all happened in that ER Trauma Room and all the other strange facts surrounding
his death. I assumed it had more to do with professional ethics than anything
else.

But time heals all wounds, and eventually it healed mine. Life
got back to normal—well, the “new” normal, I suppose. Our office finally closed
at Baptist, though I still found myself mourning over that loss too. True to
her word, Mrs. Baker treated all of us to an unforgettable dinner at
Top of
the 100.
It gave us some sense of closure and a chance to say goodbye. The
girls and I had pitched in to buy a crystal vase for Mrs. B with all our names
etched on it. She seemed genuinely touched by our gift.

Jimmy began his recovery, getting a little stronger every
day. When his injuries were well enough, he began going through rehabilitation at
a highly respected local retreat center for those needing help to overcome
addiction. I was so proud of him the day he graduated, clean and restored.

As for me? I had a wedding to plan!

In four short months, Tucker and I were married in a small
service in the chapel at First Baptist on New Year’s Eve. Tucker surprised me during
the ceremony (a dangerous thing to attempt where brides are involved) by
including an acoustic rendition of Elvis’s
Hawaiian Wedding Song
, sung
by none other than Trevor Knight. It was such a sweet and unexpected gesture of
love—and a not-so-subtle hint about the secret honeymoon he’d planned for us. We
left the next day for two weeks in  Hawaii and had the time of our lives. All
too soon it was time to come back home to Memphis where we began our lives
together as Dr. and Mrs. Tucker Thompson.

That’s Mrs. Moonpie Thompson to you.

C
hapter 42

Present Day

I leaned back, suddenly weary from sharing my long story. Darkness
shone through the windows. How was that possible? We’d chatted all through
lunch earlier in the day—a nice chicken salad and fresh fruit plate which I
served out on my back porch. When dinner rolled around, my guest seemed
delighted when I made Belgian waffles served with heated maple syrup chocked
full of pecans. I lost count on how many cups of coffee we’d both enjoyed.

I looked over and noticed my new friend Chip was comfortably
molded into my easy chair, a serene smile on his face. He’d started out with a
Q&A about my memories as a hostess at Baptist hoping to mine some helpful
ideas for a similar program at the hospital where he worked in California. But
after our long day’s visit, I felt like we’d taken a trip back in time
together.

He sat up in his chair, dropping his notebook and pen on the
coffee table. “Do you have any idea how compelling your story is? And
beautifully told, I might add. I feel as though I’ve been watching a movie of
your life. I feel like I actually
know
these people you’ve been talking
about. You tell a great story, Mrs. Thompson. I can’t begin to thank you
enough.”

“You’re most welcome, Chip. And I hope somewhere in all of
this, you can find some ideas for your own hospital.”

He paused then raised a finger. “If it’s not too much to ask,
would you mind telling me the rest of the story? What’s happened in the years
since you left Baptist?”

“I’d be happy to tell you. Let me think a moment. Oh—you
might be interested to know that Donnie survived his transplant. In fact, he
was even able to come to our wedding. When we found out he would be able to
come, Tucker graciously invited him to be one of our groomsmen. It was such a
delight to see him looking healthy again. I just prayed he wouldn’t pull any of
his crazy pranks while we were standing there at the altar. And thankfully, he
didn’t. Cried like a baby through the whole ceremony.” I chuckled at the memory
of it.

“Unfortunately, as with most of the heart transplant patients
in those days, Donnie’s recovery was short lived. He lived for two more years
before passing away. But those were two of the happiest years of his life.
Before his health began to deteriorate, he fell in love and married a wonderful
girl who just adored him. Bethany and I remain good friends to this day. But I
still miss him so much.

“Jimmy was there at our wedding too, serving as Tuck’s best
man. He truly cleaned up his act and has lived a wonderful life. He’s married
with four kids, if you can believe it. Serves as a deacon in his church down in
Birmingham. When Dad retired about 20 years ago, Jimmy took over the dealership.
Folks call him ‘Cadillac Jim’ and it still cracks me up. But the real hoot is
that when Dad retired, he bought himself a red Ferrari!”

My guest laughed out loud with me. If only he knew my dad.

“Tucker enjoyed many good years as an anesthesiologist here
in the Memphis area. In fact, he set up a practice and brought in five others.
They were all quite successful, and I’m happy to say, all five were very
involved in their churches and local charities and a good many mission projects.
Every year they hosted an event called ‘The Gas Blast,’ a big ‘40s-style swing
dance to raise money for medical projects in third world countries. We always had
such a good time working on those together.

“But Tucker was diagnosed with cancer a few years back, and I
lost him just 18 months ago. I miss him terribly. Not a day goes by that I don’t
catch myself asking him a question or telling him about something clever I
heard on TV. Can you imagine? After all these months? I suppose I’ll eventually
stop doing it, but I hope not. It helps me feel his presence here with me.”

“Did you and Dr. Thompson have children?” Chip asked.

“Yes, we have two kids. Dana is married to a recording
engineer in Nashville. They have two little angels, Lizzie and Missy. I get to
see them a lot since we’re not that far apart. Then our son Josh just started
his internship in Dallas. He plans to specialize in sports medicine.”

“Ah, another doctor in the family.”

“Tucker would’ve been so proud. Oh, and you might like to
know Sandra and Trevor married six months after our wedding. When our program
closed down at the hospital, Sandra went to med school. They’re now medical
missionaries in Africa—with six children, if you can imagine! But they have a
precious family, and they’re doing some amazing things over there.”

“That’s incredible.”

I smiled. “I think the hostess program opened our eyes to all
kinds of possible career paths. After my kids were in school, I enrolled at MSU
for my master’s degree in counseling. After my experience with Donnie and so
many other of my patients, I realized how important it was for people with
serious health problems to be able to talk through their concerns and fears and
questions with someone. Doctors and nurses don’t have that kind of time. Or
training, for that matter. I was able to go back on staff at Baptist,
counseling full time. I did that for more than 20 years and loved every minute
of it.”

“So you went full circle, returning to Baptist,” he said.

“Well, yes and no. I worked for Baptist Memorial Hospital,
but at its new location out east of town. As we discussed earlier, the original
building, located in the midtown medical area, was closed down and leveled many
years ago.”

“That’s such a shame. I would love to have taken a tour of it
with you.”

“I would have loved to have
given
you that tour,” I
said, meaning it.

He capped his pen, closed his notebook, and put away his
mini-recorder. “Mrs. Thompson, this has been such a treat for me. I must admit,
I came here on an assignment to learn some facts. But I’m leaving with much,
much more. You’ve given me so much to think about.”

“Chip . . .” I hesitated.

“Yes?”

I mulled it over in my mind, wondering if I should tell him.
But something deep inside kept nudging me to do it. I looked him straight in
the eye, motioning him to sit back down. “There is one more thing.”

 He slowly sat down. “Please, go on.”

I smiled at him, still not sure if I should. Tucker wouldn’t
be pleased. But as I reminded myself daily, Tucker’s no longer here. At least
not in the physical sense.

“I’d like to tell you about our anniversary.”

I’m not sure what he expected me to say, but this certainly
wasn’t it. His eyebrows shot up. “Your anniversary?”

“Yes.”

He waited, those brows locked in place about halfway up his
forehead.

“I fell in love with the islands of Hawaii when Tucker and I
spent our honeymoon there. So I was thrilled when he suggested we return there
for our tenth anniversary. Though, this time around, we stayed in a quaint
village on Maui. Very secluded and off the beaten path, but with all the
spectacular ocean vistas and lush majestic mountains. We stayed in a condo
right on the beach, and I told Tuck I could stay there with him the rest of my
life and die a happy woman.

“We’d been there about a week when . . .” I
paused again, still hesitant.

“When what?” I noticed he was sitting on the edge of his
seat.

“When we happened on a small beachside restaurant right up
the road. It was open air, with live entertainment, and some of the best island
food we’d ever eaten. We’d paid no attention to the sign by the door which
listed the entertainer for the evening, so we were surprised when a performer
who called himself ‘Elvis’ came on stage. Tucker and I laughed ourselves silly
over it. Considering our own particular ‘history’ with the King? Then to come
here ten years later, in this completely out of the way hole in the wall in
Hawaii—to find ‘Elvis’ doing a whole set of his famous songs? What are the
chances?

“He definitely had the look—the white studded jumpsuit with
pleated bell bottoms, the oversized uniquely-shaped glasses, the jet black hair
and long sideburns, and enough gold jewelry to supply an armada. He wasn’t
slim, but much thinner than the Elvis we’d seen in all the pictures just days
before he died. But the face wasn’t quite right and while he tried to mimic
that famous voice, he missed it. At one point I leaned over and whispered to
Tuck, ‘Elvis would roll over in his grave to see this guy. Doesn’t look
anything like him! Besides, he does a lousy Elvis voice. How embarrassing!’

“We actually got quite tickled, biting our lips to stop the
laughter, and not succeeding most of the time. Whenever a snicker or snort
would slip, the singer would look our way, smile a corny Elvis-style smile and
keep going. Apparently our response was merely egging him on. It was such a
small audience, he started looking our way more and more, winking at me—the
whole shtick. Which, of course, only made us laugh harder.

“Toward the end of his set he said, ‘I’d like to dedicate my
last song to this pretty little lady right over here.’ I thought, oh no, no, noooo!
But sure enough, he came off the stage, walked right up to me, and took my hand
in his. ‘What’s your name, lil’ darlin’?’ he said.

“I shot a look at Tucker who was all but rolling on the floor
by then. I looked back at ‘Elvis’ and said, ‘Shelby. My name is Shelby.’

“‘And what are you doing here on our lovely island, Miss
Shelby?’

“‘I’m here celebrating my tenth anniversary with my husband.’

“‘Well, now! Ain’t that a thrill? And who’s this lucky man?’
he said, facing Tucker.

“‘This is my husband, Tucker,’ I said, wishing this would all
be over.

“He took hold of Tucker’s hand, shook it, then asked, ‘Mind
if I sing a love song to your lil’ missus?’

“Tuck held up both hands and said, ‘She’s all yours, Elvis.’
The crowd loved it.

“Then he dropped to one knee and started singing those famous
lyrics to
I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You.
He had all the right
moves,
but his version was nowhere close to the original Elvis rendition
of the song. But it was so corny and absurd, I finally just decided to give in
and play along. When the song ended, he kissed my hand and draped his white
scarf around my neck, then said, ‘Aloha, Shelby.’

“The audience—all 20 or 30 of them—went wild. He made his way
back up on stage as the background music ramped up. ‘Thank you, ladies and
gentlemen! Thank you for coming out tonight. I’ll be here all week! Aloha!’

“When it was finally over, we eventually stopped laughing long
enough to order dessert and coffee, hoping to stay a few more minutes just to
enjoy the ocean breeze and chat a little. The waitress brought us our pie—along
with a note from ‘Elvis’ asking us to stop by his dressing room before we left.
I mean, he even signed it
EP.
Which only sent us into another round of
uncontrollable giggles.”

Chip laughed, clearly enjoying my story. “Tell me you’re
making this up! Oh, what I would give to have been there and see this all play
out. Oh my goodness, how on earth did you keep a straight face?”

“Well, it took us a while to regain our composure, but we
finally did and decided to accept his invitation. The waitress showed us back
to this tiny, cluttered closet of a dressing room where Mr. Elvis greeted us
warmly.

“‘Come in! Come in! I’m so glad you decided to stop by.’ He
stuck out his hand, shaking Tucker’s hand then mine. ‘Elvis Presley. It’s nice
to see you again!’

“Chip, he had this ridiculous smile on his face and a part of
me began to wonder if the guy was perhaps delusional, thinking he really
was
Elvis. I moved closer to Tucker, grabbing his hand.

“‘Okay, then,” Tucker said, ‘Elvis it is.
Mr. Presley,
we
really enjoyed your show tonight. We, uh, . . . we enjoyed hearing
all those old songs again.’

“He struck the infamous Elvis pose, continuing the façade. ‘Why,
thank you. Thank you very much.’

“Naturally he’d use the famous ‘thank you’ lines, same as he’d
used after every smattering of applause during the show. He obviously thought
he was genuinely funny.

“For a moment we just stood there, the three of us staring at
each other with plastered smiles on our faces, though his seemed more real . . .
well, more
Elvis
real.

“‘Oh, I beg your pardon. Please, have a seat’ he said. He
moved a bunch of costumes and scarves and makeup totes off a couple of rickety
chairs and offered them to us. We sat down wondering what in the world we’d
gotten ourselves into. He kept staring at me to the point I was growing
extremely uncomfortable.

“‘Shelby, it’s been a long time.’ By the way he said it, I
had the impression he wasn’t talking about our little scene that just took
place during the show. I was totally confused. I looked at him. He smiled at
me. I looked at Tucker, whose face reflected the worry in mine. Was this some
kind of joke?

“‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘What did you say?’

“‘Oh, come now, Shelby, it hasn’t been
that
long. Don’t
you remember our visit that night in the prayer room when ol’ Tommy Love was on
his deathbed?’

“‘Wha . . . wha . . .’ I
wheezed, only this time there wasn’t a trace of laughter in it. Or oxygen, for
that matter. By that point, I should tell you, the room began to spin and I was
quite sure I would be sick. He looked over his glasses and gave me a wink. Just
like he’d done at Dr. Love’s funeral.

And just as he did then, as he reached for those glasses, the
turquoise and silver watch peeked out from beneath his cuff.

“I stared at him a split-second more then promptly threw up all
over those white bell bottoms. And his blue suede shoes.

“I kept telling myself to take a deep breath, get a hold of
myself and calm down. Tucker tried to help me, taking the scarf off my neck to
help me clean myself up. ‘Elvis’ took off and came back with a damp cloth.