All I'll Ever Need Read online

  “If you think . . . I don’t know,” Holly said slowly. “But if it doesn’t work out can I go back to my old unit?”

  “Of course. But really, my dear, I wouldn’t have made this proposal if I didn’t feel confident about your abilities.”

  Jane Dagleish’s eyes opened wide and her smile . . . it upset Holly. Rarely in staff meetings had she ever noticed a smile, the warmth, the widening of her eyes as if the two of them were in on some special secret. It made Holly more nervous than ever. She’d never seen her supervisor like this.

  As Dagleish continued, her enthusiasm about the new project began to unsettle Holly’s nerves even more. Her palms were sweaty and she could feel perspiration moistening under her armpits.

  “There’s more,” the supervisor said, her smile broader than ever.

  “More?” Holly asked, already overwhelmed by the news she’d just received.

  “Yes, there is more. You will receive a salary increase, and the chance to advance.” Automatically lowering her voice as if wanting to convey secrecy, she began to explain.

  Holly’s thoughts were on the patients that she had been caring for the past few months. There was old Mr.

  Harkins, whose idea of a joke was to pretend he was sound asleep when she went to his bedside each morning. He’d open his eyes, stare around as if he didn’t know where he was, and then in a voice of surprise say, “Oh, it’s you. Who are you, young lady?”

  “Mr. Harkins,” she would say, “you know right well who I am. And good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

  “Well as could be expected with old man Grabel in the next bed snoring like a freight train all night.”

  “Well, how about the earplugs that I got for you?”

  “Girl, I lost them things a long time ago.”

  Waiting for the other shoe to drop, Holly listened as the nurse continued. She had always admired her supervisor as a no-nonsense person who knew who she was, what she represented, and always exhibited fair and equitable treatment to all. She had earned loyalty and respect from her staff and colleagues.

  Holly moistened her lips, her mouth dry with apprehension as she waited for Jane Dagleish to continue.

  “You will be on duty Monday through Friday, and your hours will be from nine to five.”

  “No more nights or weekends?” Holly asked. “Ten hour shifts?”

  “No more. Now, Holly,” the woman leaned forward, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I have selected you . . .”

  “Yes, why did you pick me?”

  Jane Dagleish settled back in her chair and gazed steadily at the shocked girl’s face. She spoke slowly. “Because you are hungry. You want more out of life. I’ve watched you . . . how you treat our patients, even the most difficult, the most cantankerous residents that we have. I’ve noticed, too, the innovative ideas you’ve used to make life a little more pleasant for those facing the last days of their lives. And really, Holly,” and this time she smiled, “you remind me of myself. Someone once gave me, a second-generation immigrant Scotch-Irish girl, a hand up. I’m only doing likewise for someone else. You. Never in God’s green earth did I ever believe that I would accomplish all of this,” she waved her hand at the citations and degrees framed on the wall behind her desk, “but once the door was opened for me I walked right through it. I expect you will do the same. Don’t disappoint me.”

  * * *

  At eight that night, when Branch picked Holly up to take her home, he hardly recognized the bubbly, excited girl that got into his car.

  “Hi, Branch! How are you?” Holly’s voice lilted with her unbounded excitement.

  “Hey, girl, what’s happenin’? What’s got you so fired up?”

  Holly fastened her seatbelt and began to share her news. “You won’t believe this,” she began.

  When she had recounted the startling news to Branch, he pulled the car into a nearby parking lot, turned off the ignition and faced Holly.

  “Congratulations, my dear.” He hugged her, happy that she was happy.

  “Branch,” Holly asked as he started to drive, “can we stop at The Kwanzaa Book Shop? I promised Mr. Harkins that I would pick up the latest copy of Ebony for him.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Emerald was about to begin her store-closing procedure when Holly ran into the store.

  “I know it’s late, but I’d like a copy of this month’s Ebony magazine,” she said breathlessly.

  “Right here,” Emerald said as she slid the magazine across the glass countertop.

  “Thanks very much,” Holly said and she was out the door.

  Emerald felt a flicker of recognition cross her mind. I’ve seen that girl somewhere before. But where?

  Chapter 6

  Jay Collins dreaded the task that lay before him. The military funeral of his friend Barry Marshall had been difficult enough, but now he had to face the man’s grieving widow again. This would surely bring more fresh pain into Elyse’s life. But he had to carry out his friend’s request.

  He took a breath and exhaled deeply, replacing his cell phone in his pocket. Elyse had agreed to be in his office at three that afternoon. He had anticipated her questions.

  “I thought all of Barry’s affairs had been taken care of,” she had said to him.

  “Well,” he had tried to explain, “there’s a last bit of information that he wanted you to have. This was his wish, the delay, that is.”

  * * *

  Elyse replaced her phone in its cradle, wondering why Jay Collins needed to talk with her.

  As Barry’s widow and executrix of his will, she was certain everything had been completed as dictated by her husband’s will. The deed to the property they had secured before he went to Iraq had been changed into her name as the new property owner, and all debts that Barry had had already been paid. What now? she wondered.

  That afternoon as she drove to the lawyer’s office, she recalled the last time that she and Barry were together. On that memorable day Jay went over some legal documents, their wills, a copy of the deed to their land, and tried to reassure both of them about his availability to Elyse at any time. She blinked away her tears as she drove into the law office parking lot. She sat for a moment trying to steady herself. This is so hard.

  After drawing a few deep breaths, she sighed, then checked her face in the rearview mirror. Perhaps a fresh dab of lipstick would brighten my face a little, she thought. She was still losing weight. Emerald was on her case about that, but even so, it wouldn’t do to appear too haggard. It had been six months since Barry’s death. She could not remember any details of the funeral except for the moment she was handed the flag with the presenter murmuring something about “a grateful nation” as her husband was laid to rest in the Cape Cod National Cemetery.

  She could not remember how she had survived those harrowing frenetic days and nights after that visit from the military telling her the dreadful news that changed her life. She had endured the ordeal of the past six months only through the support of Emerald and, unexpectedly, Austin Brimmer.

  It was Emerald who fed her body, encouraging her to eat.

  “I know you like peas and rice, so, girl, I want you to try these,” she’d say to Elyse, thrusting a steaming dish of the nourishing food in front of her. “Now, don’t tell me you don’t have an appetite! I don’t care ‘bout that! Just eat! An’ you know I’m going to stay on your case ‘til you do!”

  With Austin it was different. Shortly after the Christmas holiday he had visited the store to find out how the raffle of his unusual decoupaged vase had turned out. Emerald had given him the news.

  “Indeed, Austin, considering all that happened, we did fairly well with the raffle. You know Elyse’s husband was killed overseas . . .”

  “My God, no, I didn’t know that. How awful! How . . . how is she doing?”

  “I’d say as well as can be expected. We try to keep busy. The raffle went very well considering.” She reached onto a shelf below the glass coun
ter and handed him a slip of paper.

  “Wow!” Austin said as he checked the slip. “You mean you sold over two thousand dollars in raffle tickets? That’s amazing!”

  “We did, and the winner of the raffle drawing was an elderly woman who donated the vase to a local art school.”

  “That’s nice to know.”

  “We thought so, considering what was going on at the time.”

  “It must have been difficult. Please give Mrs. Marshall my deepest . . .”

  “She’s here, in her office. I think she would be pleased to see you.”

  “If you think . . .”

  “I want to keep her on the side of the living,” Emerald pointed out. “A fresh face will help, I think. Let me get her.”

  Austin tried to prepare himself. What did one say to a bereaved woman? I’m sorry did not seem at all adequate in such a situation.

  Elyse came from her office at the rear of the store. Austin was not surprised to see how thin she had become. She approached him with a tentative smile. He reached for her hand. His voice was calm and he hoped reassuring and sincere.

  “Mrs. Marshall, I’m so very sorry to hear of your loss. Is there anything, anything at all that I can do for you?”

  He searched her face, saw the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Could you . . . would you . . . just, just hold me for a moment?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Wordlessly, astonished by her request, he pulled her close and held her. Her head rested on his chest. To him it felt as if he were calming a wounded bird. Her body trembled, and he could feel her boniness. He tightened his hold to steady her, murmured into her ear, “It’s going to get better, I promise you. It will get better.”

  She stepped out of his embrace, breathed, “Thank you. I needed that . . . to feel a man’s strong arms.”

  “Anytime, just let me know,” he said with a warm smile. “These arms are available anytime you need them.”

  From that moment she began to heal. Austin provided encouragement.

  “You’ve got to keep on keeping on,” he’d say. Quite often he’d bring new artwork, posters, ceramics, even some jewelry that he had fashioned. These were always displayed in the front window of the shop. The customers seemed to look forward to the novel displays. Austin’s card was always alongside to inform interested persons of his own store on Massachusetts Avenue.

  “Austin has really been very good to us,” Elyse remarked to Emerald one morning while they were having their coffee and muffins.

  “I know, and I’m glad that there’s someone like him. Like he said that day, you’ll get better. I know you will. Now finish up that blueberry muffin, we’ve got work to do.”

  “Okay, my friend.” Elyse smiled as she popped the last bit of muffin into her mouth.

  She thought back to the day when Austin had held her in his arms at her request. She had felt strengthened by a man’s strong arms, but did she have the strength she needed to go on living? Where would she find such strength?

  Since Barry’s death she had relied on support from Emerald and Ace. “Call me Ace, please,” he’d said to them. “It’s my nickname, all my friends do, and I’d like to think that you both are my friends.”

  So when the tears, deep sense of loss, feelings of fragmentation and abandonment overwhelmed her, it was one of them, or sometimes both, who offered food, a shoulder to cry on and encouraging words to help her face each day.

  As she prepared to leave her car to go into Jay’s office, she thought back to the support she was receiving from Emerald and Ace. There was no doubt in her mind that she owed them big time. Would the day ever come when she would be able to stand on her own two feet and face life again?

  Her mother had been urging, “You should not be alone, Leese. Your father and I want you to stay with us, so we can keep an eye on you. Already you’re too thin, not eating right. I can tell.”

  “No thanks, Mother. Got to weather this by myself,” she’d said stubbornly.

  Chapter 7

  Jay got up from his desk, opened the small wall safe hidden behind a landscape. He retrieved an eight-by-ten brown envelope that bore his name on the upper left-hand corner. The front of the envelope had instructions that read To Be Opened Six Months After My Death.

  Jay Collins placed the sealed envelope on his desk, then sat down and stared out of the window. It had turned out to be a beautiful June day, quite mild with plenty of sunshine.

  On the intercom he heard his secretary announce, “Mr. Collins, Mrs. Marshall is here.”

  He punched the button.

  “Send her in, please.”

  He greeted Elyse at the door, kissed her cheek and noticed that she looked quite attractive in a blue linen suit. The white silk blouse she wore, buttoned to the neck, gave her a slightly military appearance. Jay noticed, too, that she was wearing her husband’s wedding band on a gold chain around her neck. Good, he thought, she is no longer wearing it as a married woman.

  He offered her a drink. “What would you like, Elyse? Coffee, tea, or a cold drink?”

  “Do you have Diet Coke?”

  “Coming right up,” he said. He reached into a small refrigerator beside his desk and poured the beverage into a Waterford glass. Placing it on a small tray, he set it on his desk where she could reach it.

  First she unbuttoned her jacket, then picked up the drink. She took several sips.

  “Guess I was thirsty.”

  “Right. It has gotten warm today. Seems all of a sudden summer is really here.”

  “Seems like it,” she agreed.

  “Elyse, how have you been? Is everything okay? Store doing well?”

  “Yes, Jay, it’s going rather well. Austin Brimmer, you remember him, displays his artwork at the store. It seems a natural enticement for customers.”

  He looked down at his desk at the envelope lying there. How would its contents affect the young widow who was waiting for him to explain why he had summoned her to his office?

  He picked up the envelope.

  “Elyse, I know you are wondering why I asked you to come here today. This packet,” he tapped on the brown envelope, “was left in my care by Barry. He wanted you to receive this six months after his death.” He handed it to her.

  She pressed her hand on her chest. He saw tears well up in her eyes.

  “Oh, my God, no!”

  Jay could see how terribly shocked she was to see her husband’s handwriting on the envelope she held in her hands.

  “I don’t know what’s in it. You can see that it is sealed. BEM, Barry’s initials, Barry Edward Marshall, are on the sealed flap.”

  As all the color drained from her face, Jay wondered if she would faint.

  Taking a deep breath, Elyse picked up the envelope. Her hands trembled as she tried to break the seal. He stood up, prepared to leave. He tried to appear calm, matter-of-fact, hoping it would help her.

  “I’ll be in the office across the hall. Just call out and I’ll come right away.”

  “Th-th-thanks, Jay,” her voice quavered.

  Finally, after he left, she was able to break the seal. She removed a single sheet of paper that had been torn from a yellow legal pad. Her husband’s familiar cursive writing filled the page.

  Barry’s handwriting. His hands were the last hands to touch this piece of paper, she thought. She read very slowly, her eyes blurred with tears that she could not control.

  She saw that the date was shortly before he was sent overseas. Her breath came in choking gasps as she tried to read. My beloved, my darling Elyse, it started, if you are reading this, I was not able to come back to you as I promised. I am so sorry, because the last thing I ever wanted to do was to disappoint you. You were always the one constant in my life.

  She felt a distinct chill come over her entire body and at the same time her hands and face felt clammy, as if she had just touched something icy cold. Her breath came in short, rapid gasps as she tried to control the surge of emotion t
hat engulfed her.

  She wiped her eyes, swallowed some of the cold drink and again began to read her husband’s last message.

  However, my dearest, there is one final request I would like you to consider. This is the one thing that only you can do for us, for the love that we share.

  A week ago, seems a lifetime ago now, I went to see Dr. Barnes. No, my dearest Elyse, there was nothing wrong with me. But, well, to make a long story short, as they say, I left a deposit with him. I deposited sperm to be frozen in case, well, you know. I am so sorry, my darling, that I had such selfish reasons for denying our wish to have our child. I cannot expect you to forgive me for putting my wishes before yours. Maybe you wondered if I really loved you. Please, I beg you to remember that I have never, ever loved anyone the way I have loved you. Please have our child. Only you can do this. I have explained to Dr. Barnes that this request is the only way I can atone for my selfish stubbornness. Always, your Barry.

  She could hardly see. She shivered as a cool breeze blew through the open window.

  “Oh, Barry, Barry,” she sobbed as she clutched the letter to her heart. She could smell a faint whiff of his aftershave lotion. She closed her eyes as hot tears washed down her cheeks. She remembered their last night together.

  “I will come home to you. I promise I will,” he had insisted.

  The thought flooded into her mind, If I have our child, a little bit of Barry will come home to me.

  She knew what she had to do. First, she had to see Dr. Barnes.

  * * *

  Dr. Hollis Barnes’s office was in a medical building not far from Massachusetts General Hospital.

  A week after receiving her husband’s letter Elyse called for an appointment, surprised when she was told that there had been a cancellation and that the doctor could see her within the next few days.

  She dressed very carefully that morning, not really knowing why she felt she had to make a good impression.