“You’re here because you’re a good woman, and a good friend. But you can’t give your life for me. I won’t let you. You’re going to finish that coffee and drive home. Walt will be back well before dawn.”
This time, Tom could see he’d gotten through to her. The nurse shook her head, then wiped her tired eyes. “Dr. Cage, please tell me you know what you’re doing. All the years I’ve been with you, I’ve never doubted you. But this time … maybe you’re not thinking straight. People do crazy things when they feel guilty about something. Tell me you’re not planning to do something crazy.”
When he realized what she feared, he felt ashamed. “I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you mean.”
Melba lowered her chin and looked up at Tom like the experienced nurse she was. “Maybe not with your own hands. But if you put yourself beyond medical help, or where harm is likely to come to you, that’s just as much of a sin.”
Tom didn’t know how to answer this.
She leaned forward and touched the center of his chest. “Your patients need you. Where could they go if you passed? These young docs don’t care about folks the way you do. Especially old folks. You owe it to them to keep going as long as you can.”
Tom didn’t verbalize the obvious, which was that he had to die someday, and it would likely be sooner rather than later, no matter what happened tonight. Melba was right that his patients would suffer, especially those with chronic illnesses, but what could be done?
“There’s nobody here but us,” he said gently. “Won’t you call me Tom now?”
She shook her head almost involuntarily, and Tom wondered what troubled her so about crossing that formal boundary. “What if I called you Nurse Price out here? How would that make you feel?”
Blood rose into Melba’s dark cheeks. After some thought, she said, “If I call you Tom, will you let me stay until Captain Garrity comes back?”
“No. I can’t make you leave, but I’m asking you to. My heart will beat a lot easier if you go.”
Melba picked up her fork and tapped it on the china plate. “I can’t believe it’s come to this. All those good works you’ve done, and it’s come to running like a common criminal.”
“We never outrun our sins, Melba. None of us.”
“And you tell me you don’t believe in God! How can you believe in sin, if you don’t believe in God?”
“I don’t know what I mean, exactly. I just use the words I know.”
A tear rolled down the nurse’s cheek. “I still have hopes for you … Tom. You’ve always done God’s work, whether you know it or not.”
His throat tightened so much that for a moment he couldn’t breathe, much less speak. “Thank you, Melba. Now, you give me a good, long hug, and then walk out to your car and drive home. Walt will be back soon, and we’ll resolve this mess.”
“Do you really believe that? Don’t lie to me.”
“I do. That old dog still has a trick or two left.”
Melba looked grateful for the lie. After a moment, she rose from the stool, and once he’d followed suit, she took him into her arms and hugged him, taking care not to put pressure on his wounded shoulder. At first the embrace felt awkward and stiff, but then Tom felt something let go in the nurse’s frame, and it was as though they’d been married for thirty years. In a way, he supposed, they had—just as he and Esther Ford had, and of course Viola, though their relationship had crossed into something far more intimate.
“Don’t you sit here studyin’ ’bout Viola and that boy of hers,” Melba said in his ear. “You don’t know for sure he’s yours. And even if he is, you never knew about him. Viola made that choice. And if that boy hates you now, well … if you let him know you, he’ll come around.”
“He’s not a boy anymore.”
Melba drew far enough back to look into his eyes. “Yes, he is. Down deep, he is. And a black boy is a hard thing to be, especially without a daddy. Take it from me.”
“I believe you, Mel.”
The nurse hugged him tight again. “I feel like I’m never going to see you again.”
“You will. I promise.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I feel it. And I want to say something to you.”
“What?”
She finally released him and stepped back, but she kept hold of his arthritic hands. “Don’t give up. Please. Don’t let them take you without a fight. Nobody’s perfect. Not even you. You deserve all the time you’ve got left.”
Tom felt his eyes getting wet. “Thank you, Mel. You go now.”
“I will. But I’m only going because I know you’re not alone here.”
As his nurse turned and walked to the door, Tom felt the familiar and terrible weight he had borne all his life, the faith of simple people who had believed too much in him.
CHAPTER 88