What Matters Most (17 page)

Jack hated shopping, especially when he didn’t know what he was looking for. What did you buy for a fifteen-year-old girl? After wasting more than half an hour at Macy’s, he approached a saleswoman who suggested a pretty necklace, picked out an amber one, wrapped it and relieved him of further worry. Sitting in his car, he phoned his travel agent and ordered plane tickets for Midge and her mother to be hand-delivered to Alice Hawkins.

He’d done the easy part. The worst would be this visit to the Hawkins’s home, for he dreaded telling Midge she had to go to a hospital, and he’d bet Alice hadn’t mentioned it to her. He stopped at the corner from the Hawkins home, bought half a gallon of raspberry-vanilla ice cream and two quarts of orange juice and hoped the ice cream would make his task easier.

“Come right on in, Doctor,” Alice said when she opened the door. “I told Midge you’d be here today, and I sure am glad you’re here. She’s having a lot of pain, though it’s easier than it was about an hour ago. And I tell you, Doctor, when that child walks half a block, she’s tired, and she just can’t seem to beat that cold.”

He handed Alice the ice cream. “I thought the children might like this. It’s rather hot today. And I’d like Midge to drink plenty of orange juice and take this folic acid. Don’t be alarmed. It’s only a vitamin.”

“How are you feeling, Midge?” he asked the girl, who reclined in bed.

“Not so good, Dr. Ferguson. I was hurting something terrible a while ago.” She coughed several times. “But it’s a little better now. Can you give me something for this cough?”

He gave her penicillin and a painkiller. “You need rest and plenty of fluids. Your mother will give you some orange juice, and I want you to drink a lot of it.”

“All right. I love orange juice.”

He sat in a chair beside her bed. “Midge, I’m going to send you to a hospital in Memphis, and you’ll feel better all the time when you come back. Your mother will go with you.”

She sat up and fell back in bed. “What about Lennie and Jewel?”

“Your brother and sister will stay in a lovely home in Ellicott City while your mother is away. They’ll be in good hands.”

“Do I have to go?”

“Yes, and you’ll be happy there. You and your mother may stay at the Ronald McDonald House. I’m not sure. The hospital has special social programs and accommodations for teens. The people who work there are caring and loving.”

“Like you and Miss Sparks?”

“Thank you. You won’t miss school, because you’ll have your regular studies with regular teachers there. It’s a beautiful, colorful environment and, best of all, you’ll get the very best care in the world. That hospital specializes in caring for patients with sickle-cell anemia, which you have.”

“Where is the place, Dr. Ferguson?”

“St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee.”

Midge’s eyes grew large and round. “I’ve never been out of Baltimore. You mean I’m going all the way to Tennessee?”

“Right,” he said, “and I brought you a going-away present.” He handed her the necklace.

“Oh, I love it,” she said, after hastily unwrapping the package. “It’s cool. I mean it’s da bomb. Gee. Thanks for my present. I’m going to try and get well real soon so I can come back and wear this to school.”

“I have some more good news for you, Midge,” he said and noticed that Alice had entered the room. “Ms. Sparks will be down there for a short while, so you may see an old friend.”

“Gee. Did you hear that, Mom?”

“I sure did. Dr. Ferguson, you know I thank you. I just hope and pray that the Lord blesses you the way you’re blessing us. I’d thought Lennie and Jewel would be upset when the social worker said they would stay with a family in Ellicott City, but they can’t wait to get there. The family was here yesterday, and the kids took to them right away.”

“You’ll get your tickets this afternoon,” he told Alice, “and the social worker will be here Friday morning to take you to the airport. She’ll take the children to their temporary home tomorrow afternoon.” He stood. “So you’re all set.” He knew that the social agency would give Alice money for incidentals, but nonetheless, he handed her an envelope containing one hundred dollars. “A Mrs. Russell will meet you at the airport.”

After he turned to leave, a thought occurred to him, and he stopped. “Wasn’t Midge tested for sickle-cell anemia in the hospital when she was born?”

“No, sir. She was born right here, and a midwife delivered her. I didn’t know anything about this disease. She didn’t get her shots till she went to school, and I don’t think they gave her anything for this.”

He patted her shoulder to ease her concern that she may have been remiss as a mother. “Were your other children born here, as well?”

“No, sir. They were born over at General.”

“Good. If they had it, you would have been notified.”

“Is it curable, Doctor Ferguson?”

“Only with a bone-marrow transplant, and that’s not a simple matter, but St. Jude will teach her how to survive with it.” He shook hands with her and left. If Midge had received good medical care as an infant, the disease would have less of a grip on her, but the poor can’t provide the best for their children. With each passing day, he took his privileged status less and less for granted and considered it less and less his due.

Jack needed to be alone, to think about what had just transpired and figure out what he should learn from it. He couldn’t discern from Alice Hawkins’s demeanor her feeling about leaving her two children with neighbors. In her place, he would have been petrified with fear. How would he feel if he had to entrust himself and his child to “a Mrs. Russell” whom he wouldn’t even recognize? And what if she didn’t meet them at the designated place?

He stopped in a small café, ordered a cup of strong coffee, tasted it and realized that he didn’t want coffee. He wanted and needed assurance that he’d done the right thing, that he wasn’t orchestrating Midge and Alice Hawkins’s lives because he could, but because they had no other option. He was their one hope, and he prayed that he hadn’t raised their expectations too high. With his elbows on the table, he covered his face with both hands. His dad once told him that he couldn’t change the world.

“But I can make a difference,” he said, “and I will.”

Jack had parked his car in front of his office, and as he walked the four blocks from the coffee shop to his office, it appalled him that in his thirty-four years he hadn’t stepped over and around as much waste and refuse. He stopped when he saw several children climbing up and down a pile of rubbish, and it occurred to him that he was looking at the source of some of the ailments he treated. He walked on, crossed the street and had to stop and remove a piece of broken glass from the sole of his shoe. Boarded-up buildings caught his eye, and he jumped out of the way as two small boys raced to claim an old and deteriorating automobile tire that lay against the curb. Leaves, sticks, broken glass, paper and various other refuse littered the gutters on either side of the street.

Months earlier, he would have blamed the women, men and children who sat outside in chairs or on the stoops for the horrible condition of their neighborhood, but not now. He’d come to understand that the destitute do not worry about appearances, but about staying alive. He waved when he passed two older men he recognized as his patients, men he surmised had been out of work so long that they had become unemployable. By the time he reached his office, he was tempted to vow never to walk through that neighborhood again. When driving through it, one was removed from it, but that walk had put him square in the middle of it.

Once the clinic was built—and he intended to have its surroundings attractively landscaped—he hoped other businesses would move in, especially a pharmacy, and that the area’s appearance would improve. He pulled air through his teeth.
How could people have hope in this environment?
A few doors from his office, a young boy rushed toward him. “Doctor Ferguson, do you remember me? I’m Tommy.”

He couldn’t help grinning. “Tommy, how could I forget the person who gave me a bat with Derek Jeter’s autograph on it? That bat is mounted and hanging in my office at home.” He stroked the boy’s shoulder. “You’ve grown a couple of inches since I saw you.”

“Yes, sir. My dad was tall like you. Real tall. I’m gonna be like that, but I’m not gonna play basketball. I’m gonna be a doctor, and I’m gonna work in your clinic.”

Now, that was news. “How did you learn about the clinic? We haven’t moved the first shovel of dirt.”

“I read the paper every day. When our neighbor finishes the paper, he gives it to me.”

“How’s your grandma?”

“Okay. She wasn’t feeling so well, but we went to a dentist, and he found an abscess and took care of it. She’s back singing in the choir again, going to prayer meeting every Wednesday night and visiting her friend in a nursing home. She sews, too. She’s fine.”

Were they talking about the same woman? “How old is your great-grandmother?”

“She’ll be ninety in a couple of months I think.”

“Let me know when she has a birthday.”

“Yes, sir. I sure will.”

“It’s a while before office hours. Come in for a few minutes. I need a cup of coffee, and Ms. Sparks may have some juice and a doughnut or scone. What are you doing while school is out?”

“I work with a delivery man from six to nine every morning. Dr. Ferguson, out there in the Westmorland Ridge area, those people is stinking rich. You ought to see their houses. I made enough to buy my school clothes. I wanted to see you, ’cause I’m starting junior high next year, and I want to know what I should study.”

The boy whose life he might have saved was determined, a child with a purpose in life. He needed no better proof that he had turned his life’s ship in the right direction. “What kind of grades do you make, Tommy?”

“Mostly A’s. I can learn anything.”

Hmm. Confident, too. “Focus on biology, chemistry, Latin and math. You’ll get the rest at the university.” He walked into his office with Tommy at his heels. Within seconds, Melanie peeped into the room.

“Hello, Doctor. Hi, Tommy. How nice to see you again.”

“How are you, Ms. Sparks?” Jack said.

“Hi, Ms. Sparks. Gee, you sure look good,” Tommy said right behind him. He had to laugh. At age eleven or twelve, a boy could tell a woman he thought she looked great, but four years later, he either had to keep it to himself or learn how to communicate it some other way.

“She does indeed,” Jack said, taking advantage of Tommy’s license. “Have a seat, Tommy, and I’ll get us something to drink.” He made coffee, poured a glass of orange juice and warmed two scones. “Sorry I don’t have any fancy plates,” he told Tommy. “I also don’t have any soft drinks, because they’re not good for your teeth. A lot of sugar and little or no nutrition.”

“I like orange juice, sir.”

He observed the child who began work daily at six o’clock in the morning. “Will you work with the delivery company after school starts?” he asked him.

“I don’t know, sir. Gee, these scones could stop a riot. Absolutely over-the-top. I’d like to, but I don’t think my grandma is going to let me.”

“She’s right.” They finished the scones and drinks, and Jack stood. “I have to get ready to work now, Tommy, but I want you to come see me again, and please give my love to your grandma.” The boy shook hands with him, waved and left.

“He’s quite a fine boy,” Jack said to Melanie. “I hope my son will be as admirable.”

“Any son you have will be like you, and that’s all any parent could ask for in a child.”

He stared at her until he convinced himself that she meant what she’d said. “You’d better be careful saying things like that to me,” he told her. “One of these days, I may say I’d like you to help me make it real.”

“Go ahead. See what kind of response you get.”

He jumped up from his desk and grabbed her arm. “Are you challenging me?”

She knocked his hand off her arm and treated him to a careless shrug. “I’m not sure. There’s only one way that I could help you make it real. You could say my imagination got a bit out of hand.” She turned to walk off, but he stopped her.

“What did you imagine? I want to know.”

“Do I ask you what you imagine about me? I do not.”

“How do you know I imagine anything about you?”

The woman winked at him. “Oh, that’s easy. I know because I am grown and have been for, let’s see, thirteen years. You get my drift?”

Sometimes he wanted to shake her, like right now, but instead, he pulled her into his arms, lifted her and seared her lips with his own. “Yes, I get your drift, and yes, I imagine myself wrapped in your arms reveling in your body. I could go on and on, but you don’t want to know. At least not right now.” He released her, kissed her cheek and then hugged her.

“I only needed an excuse to do that,” he whispered.

“And I did my best to give you one. Are you going to miss me while I’m at St. Jude?”

“More than you know. I don’t want to think about it till I have to. No matter how much you like it there, Melanie, you come back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you, Jack.” He gazed steadily at her. Was she his soul mate? If only he could be sure.

Chapter 8

“Y
ou mean you’re letting your nurse go off for an entire month?” Montague asked Jack. “How are you planning to handle that crowd you have there?”

“If I can’t get a registered nurse, I’ll try for an LPN. I’ll even take a medical student. They’re not in school during August, and every one of them can use the money. I’m doing the right thing, Dad, and I’ll benefit from it almost as much as she will.”

“Well, sure. That’s a great institution down there in Memphis, and if she stays there a month, she’ll be a better nurse. Try to get a medical student in her last year.”

“I was hoping to do that.” He hung up, finished dressing, got into the Town Car and drove to Melanie’s address. She opened the door almost simultaneously with his ring.

“I thought you’d never get here, Jack.”

He looked at his watch and relaxed. “I’m eleven minutes early. Are you eager to leave or eager to see me?”