Josh said, “I haven’t talked to Dr Beacham about it, so I need to do that. Even if we only get a few days, it would still be manageable. Faith needs maternity time, too.”
“I think if we miss too much time, it counts against our training time requirements,” Faith added. “I haven’t checked that out either.”
Faith struggled to her feet to help her mother clear the table. Josh rose to help, but Natalie grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back down. When Faith and Marianna were out of earshot, Natalie asked, “She’s so weak and skinny. Will she always be this way?”
“No, Nat,” Josh said. “She will get stronger, and her bony face will soften like it was before. She has been eating well and she is getting agile.”
“How long will that take? Maybe we don’t have a wedding until she’s better.”
“I don’t know. I hope it won’t be long. She will improve faster than you can plan a wedding. Did you see what she ate here today?”
“Uh, yeah. I did notice that.”
“She’ll bounce back just fine.”
“Her voice is different,” Natalie said. “Will it always be like that?”
“I hope not,” Josh said. “But if that is the only scar from this misfortune, I’m happy. It could have been so much worse. I’ll take what I get.”
“Yeah.”
Dessert arrived at the table with Faith and Marianna.
“Carrot cake?” Jim exclaimed. “I didn’t know the party was for me! What are you guys having?”
“You don’t get it all, Daddy,” Natalie said. “I’m having a lot!”
The cake was served, all agreeing that it was superb. It was Josh’s first experience with the famous family recipe. “Oh my gosh! This is so good it’s dangerous.”
It was a family favorite, and undoubtedly Faith had not had any since July, but she kept cutting pieces off and gobbling them up, under Natalie’s watchful eye.
“I am sorry about Brian, Faith,” Natalie said.
“Boy, that was a kicker,” Josh said. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did I,” Faith said.
“You know,” Jim said, “your marriage might have been a victim of his problem. Which I didn’t know he had.”
“You never liked him, Daddy,” Faith said. “Maybe I should have taken a message away from that. Don’t marry someone your father doesn’t like?”
“We like Josh,” Natalie said. “We want you to marry Josh.”
“Yes, Faith,” Jim said. “Please marry Josh. Bring us Cori.”
“Oh, Cori,” Marianne said. “Bring us Cori. I am so excited about Cori. I even bought some clothes.”
“Mom, did you really?” Faith asked. “Let me see them.”
In a moment, Marianne returned with bursts of pink, frills, and lace. “Look at this. I am so proud of these. And look at this one! Here are some socks.”
Josh scooted closer to Jim. “How long does this last?”
“About twenty years. More than that if you have two daughters. Get used to it.”
“I will. I don’t mind it a bit. In fact, I am pretty excited myself.”
“I was too,” Jim said, “and I enjoyed every minute. My favorite moments were teaching them to ride a bicycle, taking them out on dates, going to their science fairs or soccer games, and teaching Faith to drive. And the prom. I have driving and the prom ahead of me for Natalie.”
“I noticed the pride on your face, Jim. I hope I get all that pride and joy also.”
“You will. I’m sure of it.”
The afternoon ended bittersweet with the long ride back to Albuquerque looming. Tearing away was arduous and slow, with tears and smiles, well wishes and sarcastic quips, handshakes and hugs.
The next morning, they were at work. The pandemic was beginning to wane, although schools and the University classes had remained cancelled. The streets were becoming mildly more populated. Face masks were everywhere, with awesome patterns, colors, and decoration. Churches, schools, and universities were still meeting online or attending inside cars. A second wave was predicted with no definite expectation of when that would be.
Peggy arrived with her overnight satchel, anticipating her last call night. A permanent faculty member had been recruited and was expected to start in the coming days, whom Emily had boasted would be an excellent addition to the Division.
Ann McCauley looked at her. “What are you going to do now?”
“Retire. I’m old, fat, diabetic, and I don’t have the energy to keep this up. This was my last hoorah.”
“Gad. Are you sad?”
“At the beginning, yes. Now, not at all. I was proud of all the things I had learned to do for people, and it took me my whole life to develop that level of skill. I was devastated when I suddenly had to leave it behind. But you guys were so enjoyable and so uplifting. I got to spill out buckets of things I had in my brain that I needed to impart on someone. Now, I’m tired, I want to spend time on grandnieces, with my wife, and with my community. Once in a while, I want to get up in the morning and think, ‘What am I going to do today?’”
“That’s so nice,” Ann said. “Most are chomping at the bit to get out when they get to retirement age and can’t think of anything but vacations or motor homes. Your view is more fulfilling and more peaceful.”
“Thank you for that. Fulfilled and peaceful is exactly how it feels, and how I needed it to feel.”
“We appreciate the pearls of wisdom. We’ll all benefit, and I predict we’ll all pass the pearls on down to people who didn’t know you.”
“Well thank you. Thanks so much.”
“Did the scourge leave any scars?” Ann asked.
At this point Josh decided he needed to listen, and Ricky approached.
“When Faith coded, I was dashed. I didn’t see it coming. She was so difficult to resuscitate that I had to filter through a raft of possible problems. I wondered how I was going to manage. I kept thinking about what I would tell you, Josh, her family, and Emily. Thankfully, a clot was the right diagnosis, the radiologist thought he could get it out, and it worked. I still dream about it.”
“We’re thankful you pulled it off,” Ann said, “although I didn’t think you would or could. I thought the radiology idea was off the deep end, but I am sure glad you tried it. Like you said in the ICU when we were all shocked that you wanted to move a patient that is still coding through hallways and elevators, that if we stayed in the ICU it wouldn’t end well. That was the truth, even though I was having trouble accepting it.”
“Did this leave you with any scars?” Peggy asked.
“Yes. Jenessa and the cesarean section.” Ann wiped a tear. “I don’t know why she is branded on my soul, but she got to me. When Ricky told me what you two had discussed, I was speechless. I hadn’t even thought about it. But the way it turned out, I will never forget it, and I will always think of it when I have a maternal death with a viable fetus. We have those, occasionally, especially auto accidents with head injuries. I will always think of it.”
Ricky spoke next, “Jenessa was impressive, I admit, but my scar is Reyenne. I held her hand as she just faded away. She was the first patient I had cared for who died, and she was the first one I had actually seen die. There was nothing to do, and I was so angry at Brian Yankton because we couldn’t find him. She is burned on my soul.”
“Mine is Melanie,” Faith said. “I was crushed the morning that I found out Reyenne had died, but I was there when Melanie died. All I could think of was that she was leaving three kids behind. I will always remember her. Peggy, you said you dream about me? I dream about Melanie, and the dreams keep me awake.”
“I think we all matured and benefited. It may have been a horrible way to learn some of the things we learned, but it shows that learning goes on forever, and you can’t always tell what form it will take.”