Blue Like Elvis (14 page)

“Will do. Oh! By
the way. I forgot to tell you Donnie Rogers is up on my floor.”

“Donnie? From
Campus Crusade?”

“One and the
same. He’s having bypass surgery at noon today. Can you imagine? I’m really
worried about him.”

“He’s too young
to have bypass surgery!” She fanned herself even harder.

“Tell that to
his doctors. Anyway, keep him in your prayers. I’d tell you to stop by and see
him, but you need to stay off your feet.”

“What room is he
in?” She grabbed a notepad and pen then looked up at me.

“You don’t mind
very well, do you?”

“Room 9—”

“He’s in 919.”

“Thanks,
Shelby.”

“Sure. Just
don’t blame me if you go into early labor.”

“Bye, Shelby.”

“Bye, Rachel.”

Chapter 19

As soon as I walked
out of Rachel’s door, I headed for Donnie’s room. I jumped on the elevator,
praying I’d make it upstairs before he was wheeled away to the OR. As I stepped
onto the floor, I caught a glimpse of him on a gurney being wheeled to the back
elevators.

“Donnie!”

The orderly
stopped, and Donnie glanced in my direction.

“Hey sweetie,”
he said, clearly a little loopy from some pre-surgery meds.

I reached for
his hand. “How are you, buddy?”

“Feeling no
pain, my dear. Dancing on clouds with fairies and unicorns.” He inhaled,
closing his eyes. “Is that cotton candy I smell?”

I winked at the
orderly. “Sure is. They always serve cotton candy before surgery.”

“Mmmm,” he
moaned happily. “With Hershey’s on top?”

“Anything for
you, buddy.”

I leaned over
and kissed his forehead. “I’m praying for you, Donnie. Whether you like it or
not.”

“That’s nice.”
A lazy smile graced his face.

“I’ll see you
later, okay?”

“Okay. Tell Big
Bird hi for me.”

“Will do. And
Bert and Ernie too.”

“You’re the
best, Shelby.”

“Love you,
Donnie. Sweet dreams.”

After his
gurney disappeared from sight, I decided to spend some time in my prayer room.
I tapped on the door to make sure no one was using it. When no one responded, I
walked into the dark, quiet room. It felt good to spend time talking to God
about Donnie. I was still baffled by his easy dismissal of the Lord when we’d
talked, but I didn’t want to worry about that right now. So I prayed for Donnie’s
surgeons, for his protection during the procedure, and for a speedy recovery. I
couldn’t imagine having such serious health problems at our age. And to think
it wasn’t the first time he’d had problems.

I let my mind
wander back to the days when we hung out together. I couldn’t think of Donnie
without smiling or laughing. He had the most contagious laughter of anyone I
knew. Which got us into all kinds of trouble when we worked together. I have
vivid memories of working the counter at Taco Barn, waiting on customers, while
Donnie crawled on the floor beside me, out of the customers’ view, and pulled my
knee socks down. I shrieked, of course, and lost it when I looked down to see
him rolling on the floor laughing at me. It was so silly, so ridiculous, but
one of my favorite memories of Donnie. Him, sprawled out on that nasty floor,
laughing so hard he had tears running into his ears.

And then there
were the roach races. I still can’t believe we did those. Late at night, after
the restaurant had closed and we began our closing duties, Donnie came up with
the idea of racing roaches in the deep fryer. I know, I know . . .
we should have been arrested for such cruelty to those disgusting bugs, but at
the time we were just young and stupid. Then again, it was a way to get rid of
them. And we
only
raced them when it was time to change out the grease.
Still, I have to admit, I’ve always been a little leery of eating at fast food
restaurants ever since.

Donnie loved making
people laugh, and he was
so
good at it. A natural. He should have been a
stand-up comic. It suddenly dawned on me, I hadn’t asked what kind of work he
was doing these days. What kind of meeting had he been attending in town? Some
friend I am. I’d have to remember to ask.

Oh Lord, he’s
such a teddy bear. Keep him safe. Help him heal. And show me how to help him
find his way back to You.

I then turned
my thoughts and prayers to my pastor.

I was just
finishing my rounds when I looked up and saw Tucker approaching me.

“Hey,” he said,
nodding his head toward the back hall. I followed him around the corner.

“Have you heard
anything?” I asked.

“Just came from
Dr. Love’s room. They’ve moved him to Seven. Still running tests but he seems
to be doing better. Sounds like he just had a series of mini-strokes. He doesn’t
seem to be incapacitated and isn’t showing signs of paralysis. Which is good.”

“Thank goodness.”
I could literally feel the relief wash over me.

“He’s joking
around with the nurses, and that’s a good sign.”

I blew out a
puff of air, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. “How’s Elsie doing?”

“Good. Much
better now that he’s responsive. Of course, they had to post a
No Visitors
sign
on his door or he’d have a steady stream of well wishers from the church.”

“Though,
hospital employee that you are, that doesn’t apply to
you
, does it?” I teased.

He pinched my
elbow. “Or
you
, for that matter.” He leaned back against the wall, hiking
a knee with his foot braced against the wall. “You look nice today, Moonpie.”

I glared at him,
unable to be completely mad. And then I remembered. Moonpies and roses. “Oh,
Tucker—I forgot to thank you for the roses!”

He smiled. “Well,
I didn’t want to bring it up. Tacky to fish for a response, y’know?”

“They’re so
beautiful. But I was . . . well, I would never have expected
something like that.” I could feel my face heating and wondered if there was a
medical cure for excessive blushing.

“Which is what
makes it all the more special.” He took hold of my hand. “I’m glad you liked
them. So what’s your answer?”

“My answer?”

“Didn’t you read
the card?”

“Oh. The
Peabody. Saturday night.” I looked into his eyes, surprised how tender his
expression was. “I don’t know, Tucker. That’s awfully fancy, don’t you think?”

“Oh,” he said,
obviously not expecting that response. “Well, we can go back to Luigi’s, if you
like. I hear they’ve just cleaned the director’s chairs again.”

“No, no. That’s
not necessary.”

He squeezed my
hand. “C’mon. It’ll be fun. We can go early and watch the duck parade and have
a nice quiet dinner. Say you’ll go.”

I looked at our
hands, his thumb rubbing my palm, and wondered when all this would stop feeling
strange. I glanced back up at him. “Sure, Tuck. I’d love to.”

“Good. It’s a
date.”

“So how did your
surgery go this morning?”

“It was a gas!”
His eyebrows did a two-step as he gave my hand a final squeeze and turned to
go.

“You need some
new material, Thompson.”

“Duly noted,
Colter. Gotta run.”

Chapter 20

By lunch time, I
felt like I’d put in a full day. Donnie was in surgery. And I didn’t want to intrude
on Dr. Love just yet. I thought I might stop by later after I got off work. So I
joined some of the girls in the cafeteria, glad for a break. I’d just taken my
seat when Sarah Beth walked by carrying her tray.

“Hello, girls.” She
didn’t stop to join us.

Close on her
heels was a distinguished looking gentleman in a dark suit. “Ladies,” he said,
giving us a nod of the head as he passed our table. He and Sarah Beth took a
table for two near the windows.

“Can I assume
that is Raymond?” I asked, stirring sweetener into my iced tea.

“Raymond
McCracken, crackerjack undertaker,” Mindy quipped. “Try saying that three times
in a row really fast.”

I snickered,
recalling some of the office chatter about Sarah Beth’s husband of two years.
He was actually very handsome, looking every bit the part of his family’s
prominent Memphis funeral company. The McCrackens had several locations
throughout the greater Memphis area, though Raymond worked at the original home
over on Poplar Avenue. As I watched him across the room with Sarah Beth I
thought they were surely a match made in heaven. Sarah Beth was Type A all the
way, and from what I’d heard, she’d met her match in Raymond. I could envision
the two of them “taking over the world of undertaking” with great moxie.

“Get this,”
Sandra said, speaking quietly. “Today Sarah Beth was on another rant about her
stellar housekeeping. She told me she routinely irons everything in the house.
Their sheets. Their dishcloths—”

“Get out of
here,” Debra scoffed.

“Their hankies—both
his and hers, of course.”

“Oh, please,” Leila
groaned.

“And―”
Sandra paused with flair, “she even irons dear Raymond’s
boxers
.”

We all hooted,
then hushed ourselves, not wanting the McCrackens to overhear us.

“Sandra, you’re
making that up,” I said, still laughing.

She crossed her
heart and held up her hand. “As God is my witness, I’m telling you exactly what
she told me.”

“Who irons
underwear
?” Leila asked. “I mean, what’s the point?”

“I asked her the
same question,” Sandra said, “and she said you just feel different knowing you’re
pressed from head to toe. ‘Besides, what our mothers always said was true. You
never know when you might be in a car accident and you certainly wouldn’t want
the paramedics to find you in wrinkled uns.”

“Which is always
my top priority when the paramedic is scraping me and my starched uns off the
pavement,” Rebecca added.

“Well, I don’t
know about you guys,” I said, “but when I die, I’ll rest so much easier knowing
my undertaker has starched and ironed undies on.”

We roared again.
I tried really hard to get rid of the image of the tall undertaker wearing
starched boxers under his expensive suit. Never in a million years would it
ever cross my mind to iron my panties. Who comes up with this stuff? Then
again, Sarah Beth and I were definitely not cut from the same fabric. I’m not
even sure we were from the same planet.

“So Shelby, spill
the beans,” Debra said. “Let’s hear all about the mysterious Dr. Thompson. How
long has this been going on and why all the secrecy?”

I stabbed a fork
in my salad and quickly took a bite. I wish I’d remembered to eat in my car or
take a walk to the park. I didn’t like dishing out private information like
this. Especially since I had no clue what this whole thing with Tucker was all
about. I swallowed hard and took a sip of tea.

“We went out to
dinner, the chair I was sitting in broke, Tucker got kind of upset with the
waiter, we left and that was that. Apparently he felt bad about how it turned
out, so he sent me flowers. No big deal. End of story.”

“Roses. Not just
flowers. He sent you
roses
,” Sandra added.

“No big deal?” Mindy
garbled over a mouthful of French fries. “Look, I don’t know how they do things
in Alabama, but around here, when a guy sends flowers—”

“Roses.”

“Thank you,
Sandra. When a guy sends roses after the first date? It is a
big
deal.
Especially since Tucker Thompson hasn’t been back on the market all that long.”

“I rest my case,”
Sandra said.

“Okay, fine.
Whatever. I just wish you all would understand. We’ve known each other a long
time. It’s all very strange. So if I asked you to back off with all the
questions, what are the chances?” I looked each of them in the eye, one after
another. They looked at each other in silent consultation.

“Nahhhh,” Mindy
droned.

“Not gonna
happen.”

“Nice try,
though.”

Sandra leaned
over and gave me a side hug. “See? We’re all just like your sisters. Una gran
familia feliz. One big happy family!”

“Nosy, but
happy,” Debra added.

I nodded in
resignation. “Thanks. Really.”

“Miss Colter.
Miss Shelby Colter.”

At that moment,
I wanted to find that woman behind the paging microphone and kiss her right on
the lips. “Bye guys, I’m outta here.”

The call was
from Samantha, one of the nurses on my floor. She said Mr. Underwood needed to
see me right away. Bless his little heart. He rescued me from the inquiries of
my fellow hostesses.

As I arrived on my
floor, I noticed Mr. Underwood coming toward me.

“There you are!”
he said, dressed in street clothes. “We’re about to leave, and I was hoping to
see you before they take me downstairs.”

“You’re leaving
today?”

“Yes, I’m afraid
they won’t let me stay here any longer since I seem to have fully recovered.”

“But what about
Mrs. Underwood?” I knew she was still in serious condition. She’d been released
from ICU but every time I’d visited her on Eight, she’d been asleep. The pain
medications still kept her heavily sedated.

“Margaret is being
moved to a convalescent center. I believe it’s located not far from here.
They’ve made arrangements for me to stay with her since I refused to go
anywhere else. Our son Billy is coming to help us get settled. He’s awfully
busy with his job, but he was able to take off a couple days to come.”

I’d met Billy
several times. He seemed like a nice enough guy, though I kept wishing he would
take charge and be more assertive about his parents’ dire situation. If they’d
been my parents, I would have insisted they be transferred to where I live so I
could be more help. Then again, I’m not walking in Billy’s shoes, so I’ve tried
to give him the benefit of the doubt. I know he works hard to pay his bills and
care for his family, so who was I to judge?

“I’m just so
surprised you all are leaving so soon,” I said. “But I know you’ll have
excellent care. We’ll sure miss you, Mr. Underwood. I’ll keep you and Margaret
in my prayers. “

His eyes quickly
misted and he slowly held open his arms for an embrace. I gave him a hearty hug,
smiling as I inhaled his Aqua Velva.

“You’ve been just
wonderful, Shelby. I never would have made it without you.” He took a quick swipe
at his eyes.

“Well, I don’t
know about that, but it was my pleasure to help. I wish you and Margaret the
best and a speedy recovery.”

An orderly showed
up with a cart for his belongings and a wheelchair which was required for his
departure.

“Well, there’s my
ride. I better go.”

“Take care, Mr.
Underwood.”

“You too, Miss
Colter.”

I would always
think of him fondly as Mr. SU-BA-RU Underwood, the sweet little man who helped
me get my feet wet when I first started at Baptist.

As I made my way
back to the nurses’ station, I heard someone call out my name down the other
hall. Mr. Wilcox was taking a walk down the hall with his wife. I felt bad,
avoiding him like I had, so I asserted myself more than usual.

“Hi, Mr. Wilcox,
Mrs. Wilcox. Nice to see you up and about this afternoon,” I said, hoping to
sound more chipper than I felt.

“Hello, Miss
Colter,” he said, slowly closing the gap between us. “You remember my wife,
DeeDee?”

“Sure I do. How
nice to see you again. How’s our patient here doing?”

“The doctor said
he can go home tomorrow if he has a nice bowel movement today,” she said with
all the pride of a mother whose baby just took its first step.

“Well then . . .”
I couldn’t think of an appropriate response. I looked at Wilbur, expecting to
see him blushing or avoiding eye contact with me. But no. He was beaming. I
reminded myself to steer clear of his room for the rest of the day, fearing
he’d want to give me a detailed description of his . . .
production.

“Wilbur’s always
been regular as rain, so it shouldn’t be long now,” DeeDee added, still
glowing.

And that
would be my cue to leave the floor.
“Good to know!” I said, turning to
leave. “If I don’t see you before you leave, you take care and get well, okay?
Bye now!” And off I dashed to the closest elevator.

The images
flashing through my mind weren’t too pleasant, so I opted for a break in
Mindy’s prayer room. As I leaned against the wall, waiting for the elevator, I
noticed a gurney pushed by an orderly and wondered if it could be Donnie. I
checked my watch and realized it was probably too soon. But as the patient was
wheeled around the corner, I recognized that slap-happy smile coming my way. A
knot lodged itself in my throat.

“Hey there,
Donnie. How do you feel?” I asked, keeping pace as the orderly continued toward
his destination in 919.

He licked his
dry lips slowly. “Like I’ve been through a meat grinder. And you?” His voice
was raspy, no doubt from intubation during surgery.

“I’m good, but
thanks for asking. You don’t look half bad after surviving a meat grinder.”

“Looks can be
deceiving, princess.”

I waited as they
got him settled in his room again. When they left, I slipped in for a quick
visit. I knew he needed to rest.

“Hey, big guy.
That was quick. I didn’t expect you back until later in the day.

“Seems they cut
me open and couldn’t find a heart. Looked everywhere. Wasn’t there. But then
you always used to call me heartless, you know  . . .”

“Very funny. I’m
just thinking quick surgery and recovery room visit means good news.”

“Who knows. They
didn’t tell me anything.”

“Nor will they until
later.”

“Ah. My little
fountain of medical knowledge.”

“Can I get you
anything? Some pork rinds? Maybe some deep fried roaches?”

He started to
laugh then grimaced from the pain.

“Oh, Donnie! I’m
so sorry. No more jokes. I swear.”

He took a couple
of long, shallow breaths. “What, no fork stabs in the eyeballs? You’re really
good at this whole Nurse Nancy gig.” He closed his eyes as a lazy half-smile
crept slowly across his face.

“More like Nurse
Ratched, eh?”

“Fitting, as I
feel rather cuckoo right now . . .”

I could tell he
was drifting off to sleep.

“Well, you just
get some rest, Mr. Rogers, and I’ll go tell Bert and Ernie you came through
surgery just fine.” I leaned over and kissed his brow which he’d knotted,
clearly not remembering our pre-surgery chat. “I’ll stop by later, okay?”

“Mmmm.”

 Pleased to see
my good friend resting comfortably after his ordeal, I finally made my way down
to the prayer room on Five. Our little hideout was crowded today, but I
squeezed onto the sofa between Chelsea and Rebecca. I told them how well Donnie
had come through surgery, then decided to tell them all about my favorite train
man who would be released as soon as Mother Nature did her magic with his
bowels. The girls exploded in laughter, adding some rather gross puns on the
subject.

Suddenly the
door opened and there stood Mrs. Baker. A young couple in tears stood behind
her. Our boss stared at us, her jaw dropping as she looked around the room. We
quickly snapped out of our shock and ran like a bunch of rats fleeing the
Titanic.

Literally.

I couldn’t think
where to go so I raced to Rachel’s office. Thankfully she was gone. I closed
the door and collapsed on her loveseat, dropping my head in my hands. I
couldn’t remember ever feeling like this. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Mad for such a
stupid lapse of judgment. Mad at myself and my friends. We were dead meat, and
we knew it.

About 20 minutes
later, I heard myself paged along with every other hostess who’d been
lounging in that prayer room. Even Mindy.

This would not
be pretty.

She was huffing.
Actually huffing. Pacing back and forth across the floor of our tiny office and
huffing like a dragon ready to pounce its prey. I’d give anything not to be her
prey.

“I’ve a mind to
fire every single one of you right this minute. You deserve it. You know you
do!” Her chest heaved with all that deep breathing, but I only know because I
peeked when I saw her turn to go the other direction. Otherwise my eyes were
glued to the floor.