Mary Clark - Silent Night

“Eavesdropping, kid? Who is this, Cally?”

“Jimmy, leave him alone. I don’t know who he is,” she cried. “I’ve never seen him before.”

Brian was so scared he could hardly talk. But he could tell the man and woman were mad at each other. Maybe the man would help him get his mother’s wallet back, he thought. He pointed to Cally. “She has my mom’s wallet.”

Jimmy released Brian. “Well, now that’s good news,” he said with a grin, turning to his sister. “Isn’t it?”

A plainclothesman in an unmarked car drove Catherine to the hospital. “I’ll wait right here, Mrs. Dornan,” he said. “I have the radio on so we’ll know the minute they find Brian.”

Catherine nodded. If they find Brian raced through her mind. She felt her throat close against the terror that thought evoked.

The lobby of the hospital was decorated for the holiday season. A Christmas tree was in the center, garlands of evergreens were hung, and poinsettias were banked against the reception desk.

She got a visitor’s pass and learned that Tom was now in room 530. She walked to the bank of elevators and entered a car already half full, mostly with hospital personnel-doctors in white jackets with the telltale pen and notebook in their breast pockets, attendants in green scrub suits, a couple of nurses.

Two weeks ago, Catherine thought, Tom was making his rounds at St. Mary’s in Omaha, and I was Christmas shopping. That evening we took the kids out for hamburgers. Life was normal and good and fun, and we were joking about how last year Tom had had so much trouble getting the Christmas tree in the stand, and I promised him I’d buy a new stand before this Christmas Eve. And once again I thought Tom looked so tired, and I did nothing about it.

Three days later he collapsed.

“Didn’t you push the fifth floor?” someone asked.

Catherine blinked. “Oh, yes, thank you.” She got off the elevator and for a moment stood still, getting her bearings. She found what she was looking for, an arrow on the wall pointing toward rooms 515 to 530.

As she approached the nurses’ station, she saw Spence Crowley. Her mouth went dry. Immediately following the operation this morning, he had assured her that it had gone smoothly, and that his assistant would be making the rounds this afternoon. Then why was Spence here now? she worried. Could something be wrong?

He spotted her and smiled. Oh God, he wouldn’t smile if Tom were… It was another thought she could not finish.

He walked quickly around the desk and came to her. “Catherine, if you could see the look on your face! Tom’s doing fine. He’s pretty groggy, of course, but the vital signs are good.”

Catherine looked up at him, wanting to believe the words she heard, wanting to trust the sincerity she saw in the brown eyes behind rimless glasses.

Firmly he took her arm and ushered her into the cubicle behind the nurses’ station. “Catherine, I don’t want to bully you, but you have to understand that Tom has a good chance of beating this thing. A very good chance. I have patients who’ve led useful, full lives with leukemia. There are different types of medicine to control it. The one I plan to use with Tom is Interferon. It’s worked miracles with some of my patients. It will mean daily injections at first, but after we get the dosage adjusted, he’ll be able to give them to himself. When he recuperates fully from the operation, he can go back to work, and I swear to you that’s going to happen.” Then he added quietly, “But there is a problem.”

Now he looked stern. “This afternoon when you saw Tom in ICU, I understand you were pretty upset.”

“Yes.” She had tried not to cry but couldn’t stop. She’d been so worried, and knowing that he had made it through the operation was such a relief that she couldn’t help herself.

“Catherine, Tom just asked me to level with him. He thinks I told you it was hopeless. He’s starting to not trust me. He’s beginning to wonder if maybe I’m hiding something, that maybe things are worse than I’m telling him. Well, Catherine, that is simply not so, and your job is to convince him that you have every expectation that you two will have a long life together. He mustn’t get it in his head that he has a very limited time, not only because that would be harmful to him, but equally important because I don’t believe that’s true . In order to get well, Tom needs faith in his chances to get better, and a great deal of that has to come from you.”

“Spence, I should have seen he was getting sick.” Spence put his arms around her shoulders in a brief hug. “Listen,” he said, “there’s an old adage, ‘Physician, heal thyself.’ When Tom is feeling better, I’m going to rake him over the coals for ignoring some of the warnings his body was giving him. But now, go in there with a light step and a happy face. You can do it.”

Catherine forced a smile. “Like this?”

“Much better,” he nodded. “Just keep smiling. Remember, it’s Christmas. Thought you were bringing the kids tonight?”

She could not talk about Brian being missing. Not now. Instead, she practiced what she would tell Tom. “Brian was sneezing, and I want to make sure he’s not starting with a cold.”

“That was wise. Okay. See you tomorrow, kiddo. Now remember, keep that smile going. You’re gorgeous when you smile.”

Catherine nodded and started down the hall to room 530. She opened the door quietly. Tom was asleep. An IV unit was dripping fluid into his arm. Oxygen tubes were in his nostrils. His skin was as white as the pillowcase. His lips were ashen.

The private duty nurse stood up. “He’s been asking for you, Mrs. Dornan. I’ll wait outside.”

Catherine pulled up a chair next to the bed. She sat down and placed her hand over the one lying on the coverlet. She studied her husband’s face, scrutinizing every detail: the high forehead framed by the reddish brown hair that was exactly the color of Brian’s; the thick eyebrows that always looked a bit unruly; the well-shaped nose and the lips that were usually parted in a smile. She thought of his eyes, more blue than gray, and the warmth and understanding they conveyed. He gives confidence to his patients, she thought. Oh, Tom, I want to tell you that our little boy is missing. I want you to be well and with me, looking for him.

Tom Dornan opened his eyes. “Hi, Love,” he said weakly.

“Hi, yourself.” She bent over and kissed him. “I’m sorry I was such a wimp this afternoon. Call it PMS or just old-fashioned relief. You know what a sentimental slob I am. I even cry at happy endings.”

She straightened up and looked directly into his eyes. “You’re doing great. You really are, you know.”

She could see he did not believe her. Not yet , she thought determinedly.

“I thought you were bringing the kids tonight?” His voice was low and halting.

She realized that with Tom it was not possible to utter Brian’s name without breaking down. Instead she said quickly, “I was afraid they’d be hanging all over you. I thought it was a good idea to let them wait until tomorrow morning.”

“Your mother phoned,” Tom said drowsily. “The nurse spoke to her. She said she sent a special present for you to give me. What is it?”

“Not without the boys. They want to be the ones to give it to you.”

“Okay. But be sure to bring them in the morning. I want to see them.”

“For sure. But since it’s just the two of us now, maybe I should climb in the sack with you.”