The Rebel Doc Who Stole Her Heart

Ty stayed a few steps behind his father as they weaved in and out between campers that had seen better days. Children ran around barefoot and elderly women sat huddled together, speaking softly, as they passed. Where Ty had once been an insider he was now very much the outsider. They finally reached a camper that was set a little off from the camp.

His father’s deep voice called, “Miranda, come out here.”

Ty’s heart thumped harder against his ribs. He would’ve known his mother instantly. She had aged but done so gently. Her long wavy hair reached the middle of her back and was controlled by a red bandana. Dressed in a flowing multicolored shirt that reminded Ty of Michelle’s bright home, shorts and wearing rope thongs on her feet, his mother looked like the quintessential beachcomber.

“What’s going on?” she called, stepping out of the camper door and coming down the steps. She looked in his direction and said in a breathy voice of pleasure, “Ty.”

“Hello, Miranda.” Ty held his breath. Would she turn him away? His mother stared at him for a moment as if she couldn’t believe that he was truly there. She wasn’t the only one. Finally, she opened her arms and Ty walked into them.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she whispered.

“I know.”

She pushed him back to arm’s length and studied him as if she were a fortune teller getting a reading. “You’re well, I see, and here for answers.”

Ty nodded. He and his mother had always been in tune with each other.

“Then come, sit and let us hear your problem.”

His mother welcomed him as if nothing had happened. Was it that easy? Ty glanced at his father. He was moving folding chairs around so that they faced each other. His father hadn’t been as friendly as his mother but he hadn’t turned Ty away either. Obviously it had been he who had held the grudge, not his parents.

They all took seats.

“First tell us how you have been,” his mother said.

Ty gave them the short version of his life but didn’t mention Michelle. He felt that if he put his plans into words it might jinx them. They were too important to take that chance.

“How have you both been?” Ty looked from his mother to his father.

“We are well,” George said.

His father had always been one for few words and apparently that hadn’t changed.

His father’s face turned serious. “So, Tyrone, tell us why you are here.”

Ty didn’t miss the implication that he wouldn’t have come unless he wanted something. Did they really have no idea what burden he carried?

“I want to talk about Joey.”

His mother flinched. His father reached over and took her hand.

Ty forged ahead. “I want to know why you wouldn’t take him to a doctor.”

“Because it is not our way,” his father stated firmly.

So the answer hadn’t changed.

“Joey could have lived if he’d only had medicine.” Ty worked to keep his voice even.

“We had no money for doctors or medicine,” his mother said in a wistful voice. Had she begged his father to help Joey?

“There are programs. We could have gotten him care. I should have gone for help.”

His father let go of his mother’s hand and sat straighter. He looked directly at Ty. “We did what we could for Joey. It was meant to be.”

“Did you know that I feel responsible for Joey’s death?”

“Why would you feel that way, Ty?” His mother sounded truly mystified.

“Because I should have made you do something to help him.”

“We did all we could,” his mother said.

Ty let out a sound of desperation. Nothing was different. Except that his parents had moved on. He was the one who was stuck in the past. “Would you have let me take him to the hospital?”

“No,” both his parents said at the same time.

The mountain-sized guilt that he had been carrying around slipped slowly off him. They wouldn’t have listened to him even if he’d insisted that Joey see a doctor. They were so set in their beliefs that they wouldn’t have allowed him to take Joey.

“We take care of ourselves. We’ll not let others tell us what we need to do,” his father stated.

His father referred to the government. His parents didn’t vote, didn’t pay taxes so they didn’t exist. They wanted to keep it that way. No matter the cost.

Ty stayed a while longer and they talked about the past. Before Ty left he had his parents agree to keep in touch. They would at least drop a postcard in the mail to let him know where they were from time to time. As they got older he could check on them, use his skills as a doctor to help them when they wouldn’t seek it elsewhere.

No matter what Michelle thought, his life was very different from that of his parents. He shared some traits but in other ways he was thousands of miles away from them. Sadly, he and his parents would never be close but they were still his parents. He’d try to leave his guilt behind and build a future free of blame.

* * *

Michelle knocked on the door of her most recent patient’s room. Mr. Jordon was a seventy-year-old man who wo

uld be in her OR for triple by-pass surgery first thing the next morning. She gently pushed the door open. Her patient lay propped up in his bed and appeared to be asleep. A white-headed woman about the same age as the man sat beside him, holding his hand.

Michelle rounded the bed to stand beside the woman. “I’m Dr. Ross.”

“I’m Martha Jordon. Richard’s wife.”

“I won’t wake Mr. Jordon. He needs to rest. I was just checking to see if he or you have any questions about the surgery.”

“What’re his chances?” Mrs. Jordon seemed to be forcing the question out.

“I won’t lie. The surgery is an intensive one but we do them here all the time.”

Mrs. Jordon glanced at her husband and when she looked back her eyes were glassy with moisture. “Richard is all I have.” She sniffled. “We couldn’t have children. So he’s everything to me.” A tear dropped to her milk-white cheek. “I had cancer three years ago and he nursed me through the horrible chemo. I can’t lose him now.”

Michelle’s heart broke for the woman. She knew what it meant to be alone. That deep endless void that nothing or anyone else could fill except for the person missing. Glancing around, she found a spare chair and brought it alongside Mrs. Jordan’s. Sinking down on it, Michelle took the older woman’s hand and held it. For a long moment they sat, saying nothing. Human touch was enough.

Finally Michelle said, “Mr. Jordon is strong. He should be fine. You need to take care of yourself. He’ll need you when he gets out of here.”

Mrs. Jordon gave her a weak smile. “I’ll be there for him.”

Michelle gave the fragile hand in hers a gentle squeeze. “I know you will.” She stood. “Now, I want you to go home soon and get some rest. The nurses will take excellent care of Mr. Jordon overnight and I’ll be in to see you both in the morning.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ross. You’ve been very sweet.”