Chapter 6
Jonah closed his office door and slid into the chair behind his desk. His mother had paged him. He couldn’t keep avoiding her. If he didn’t talk to her soon, she’d start calling the house. Then Faith would start asking him questions. The last thing he needed was something else for her to nag about.
Dialing the number from memory, he mused that his mother’s phone number had never changed from the time they first got a telephone when he was a child. His mother, ever consistent, could be counted on to do exactly what she always did. That’s why he knew the reason for her calls.
He heard the familiar voice on the phone and closed his eyes for a second, briefly reveling in what he could only describe as the voice of an angel. In times past, it had been the only calming, stabilizing force in his life. She had strength, yet gentleness that could make his world rotate correctly on its axis. He’d relied on her most of his life, but in recent years, they’d grown apart, differing in opinion about his relationship with his father. Still, hearing her took him back to a time when he didn’t feel this nagging pain in his heart.
“Mama.” He attempted to sound upbeat. “How are you?”
“I’ve called you four times.” She stated a fact that he was well aware of. “Why can’t I get a call back from you?”
“I’m sorry, Mama. I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Too busy for your mother, too busy for your family, and too busy for your daddy, I’m sure.”
Jonah groaned. “Mama, what did you want to talk to me about? I know it’s not my family, and it couldn’t be Martin.”
“I wish to God you wouldn’t refer to your father that way. It’s a sin. The Word says to honor thy mother and father. Calling your father by his first name is not honoring him.”
“I’ve been calling him Martin for more than ten years, and that’s between the two of us. I’m sure God’s too busy to care.” He rubbed the creases in his forehead. “Now please, tell me what I can do for you?”
“You know what I want.” Silence echoed in the phone. “I need you to take me to the grave on Saturday. I want to put flowers—”
“I-I can’t do that,” he stuttered.
“You have to. My arthritis is bothering me. I can’t drive myself.”
“Surely one of the people from the church—”
“No. Most of our members are old or they got little children to see after. It’s too far to ask somebody to take me.”
“I’ll hire a car service.”
“No, Jonah Morgan. You’ll skip your golf game, get in your fancy car, and take me to the gravesite yo’self.”
His mother had no idea how much it bothered him to go to that grave. “I’m busy. I have patients and some things with the kids this Saturday.”
“Uh hum. I’m sure it’s more work than children,” she groaned. “I’m not taking no for an answer. We won’t be there long. You pick the time.”
Jonah sighed. He wanted to say he had to work or that he really did have something to do with the kids, but he realized there was no point. Why fight the inevitable?
“I don’t care how many patients you help, it ain’t gonna bring Joshua back.”
“Mama—”
“I wish you’d let yourself heal, share your pain with your wife. God knows she wants to know what’s eating you. She’s been wanting to know for years.”
Amadi Lazarus had already assailed his emotions. He didn’t need more from his mother, but he respectfully allowed her to continue her speech.
“You’ve got to tell her sometime. It’s going to hurt that you didn’t open up to her, and you need to be able to talk to somebody. She don’t even know why you so put off with your daddy.”
He rolled his eyes upward.
“I know you rolling them eyes. But I’m telling you the truth. You’re not being fair.”
Jonah looked at his watch, mentally ending the conversation. He’d known what she wanted before he returned the call. He also knew he had no choice but to give in to her. A quick surrender would get him off the phone.
“Mama, if you want me to come on Saturday, fine, I will. But I’m working now, so I’m not going to talk about Joshua or Faith, and I’m certainly not going to talk about Martin.”
“Well, son, what exactly do you and me have to talk about if we don’t talk about those three things? At my age, all you care about is ya family.” She was silent for a moment, and then with her voice trembling said, “I’ll see you when you get here. I’ll be waiting. Bye, son.”
Jonah listened to the dull drone of the dial tone for a moment before he returned the phone to its cradle. He’d been so preoccupied about getting her off the phone that he hadn’t even asked her about her blood pressure.
His heart began an anxious beat. The cemetery, flowers on the grave, mournful reminiscing. She had to make him go there. He swore under his breath and pounded a fist on his desk.
“Mama,” he said out loud as if the angst with which he called her name would be felt by her, “why can’t you just leave the past in the past?”
“Dr. Morgan do you have time to go over those notes with me?” Samaria stood in his door, a chart in one hand and a soda can in the other. “It’s for my cardiac disease class.”
Jonah grimaced.
“You already promised,” she added. “If I don’t get some help, I’m going to fail.” She walked in and stood in front of his desk.
Jonah looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He still had six patients to see, charts to update, and those numbers to crunch for the staff meeting on Monday. What had he been thinking when he agreed to help her? That when you start your own practice, you could use a good Cardiac Nurse Practitioner.
“I can’t do it today. You know my patient load is heavy, and I’ve got a thing to do with my son. Refresh my memory, exactly what do you need from me?”
Samaria placed the soda can and chart on the desk. “Just an hour of your time to help me get the right framework for clinical diagnosis.”
Jonah didn’t respond. Even though medicine and nursing were different disciplines, he knew he could help her with this particular problem area. It was the same subject he was lecturing about at Morehouse next week.
Samaria continued. “My professor is awful. Between working, driving to Augusta for classes, and studying, I’m really struggling. I don’t know if I’m smart enough for this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve gotten through what—two semesters? You can do anything you set your mind to.”
“I don’t know. People who are smart sometimes assume everyone else has the same mental capacity as they do.” Samaria sighed. “Maybe I should’ve just married a doctor.”
“Hmmm,” Jonah chuckled. “My wife would tell you that’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I’m sure she understands your dedication to your patients.”
I’m sure she doesn’t.
“Anyway, I could use a tutoring session. It won’t take you that long.”
“Sam, I’d be glad to help; it’s just fitting it in. You can’t do Saturday mornings—”
“Actually,” she threw up her index finger. “I can do this Saturday. We don’t have class.”
Jonah let out a sigh. He was trapped. “I’d be giving up golf for you.”
“And I’d be eternally grateful.”
He laughed. “Okay, just this one time. You need to find a tutor.”
Samaria clapped her hands together triumphantly.
“Just an hour,” he said, thinking of his mother. “I’ve got another appointment on Saturday,”
“I’m sure it’ll help.”
“We’ll see.”
A moment of silence passed as Jonah pulled a chart from the pile in front of him and opened it.
“You said you had something to do with Eric. Is he still playing baseball?” Samaria asked.
“He is.”
“How’s the season going?”
Jonah paused briefly. The question caught him off guard. Were they winning or losing? He didn’t know. He hadn’t even asked. Baseball fields, little league, it all bought back memories he didn’t want to revisit. “He’s uh . . . doing fine.” He stuttered over his words.
Samaria laughed lightly. “You haven’t had time to fit that in either.”
Jonah just looked at her. Too embarrassed to confirm her suspicions out loud.
“I’m sure your family understands,” Samaria said, placing one hand on her hip and twisting a loc of her long hair with the other. “I know I would.”
“Yeah,” he said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him.
“I’d better go,” Samaria said after a moment.
Jonah watched as she exited, trying to recall something he wanted to ask her, but being distracted by the sway of her hips. He had to admit she had a lot of sex appeal and didn’t mind flaunting it. Something about her mannerisms, the snugness of her uniforms, the hairstyles and makeup she chose, always seemed to be shouting sex. Many of the doctors had noticed it and commented on how alluring she was. She was pretty, but much too flashy for his taste.
“Not that I’m looking,” he let the words roll off his tongue in a song.
Jonah closed the chart he had been working on and found the message from the National Heart Society under it. He had forgotten to call them back. Tomorrow was the annual fundraising benefit. He’d decided not to attend this year. Although he was sure the message was a last attempt by a customer service person to sell another two hundred dollar ticket, he made a mental note to return the call first thing in the morning, particularly since Gunter had asked him to.
Jonah opened another chart and made some notes in it. It was the last one that needed updating. The records manager would be pleased to find them when she arrived in the morning. Jonah was guilty of being over the standard of promptness for completing his records on more than one occasion, but this current pile had been the worst yet.
Jonah stood and faced the window behind the desk. He raised his arms and stretched like a cat that had been in a small cage all day. It was six thirty. If he hurried, he could still make the end of Eric’s game. He needed to attend. Faith had been riding him about spending time with the children, and he knew he had been a little neglectful in that department. He picked up his jacket and slid it across his back and inserted both arms. Just as he picked up the charts to deliver to the medical records department, his pager began to beep.
The hospital. Pediatric Intensive Care. He picked up the desk phone and dialed.
“This is Dr. Morgan.”
“Henry Morrison was stepped up to PICU, sir. He has a high fever and fluid on the lungs,” the nurse said on the other end.
He didn’t have time to stop at medical records. He wouldn’t make the baseball game. His patient couldn’t wait, but everyone else could and would.