“Father Donald,” Mr. Westbrook started, sounding hopeful, “you came.”
“Of course I came, Mitchell. I would’ve been here sooner but traffic got the better of me. Is it okay if I come in?”
“We’re trying to keep the chance of infection low,” I stated in a monotone voice.
“Please,” Mr. Westbrook insisted. “Father Donald is our priest and we wanted him here to pray over Johnny before he goes into surgery. Janice would’ve insisted on you being here.” The man’s voice cracked and I knew the Janice he spoke of was his deceased wife.
“It won’t hurt for a minute. Please, enter,” Grace allowed.
Biting my tongue, I stepped away from the bed to make room for the priest to do whatever it was he was there to do. I started for the door.
“Dr. Reynolds and Nurse Young, would you please join us in the prayer?” Mr. Westbrook questioned.
My gaze immediately dropped to Grace, who gave the man a sympathetic smile before nodding enthusiastically and moving closer to the bed.
All eyes around the room fell to me as I remained close to the door. I looked back to the boy in the bed and pivoted away from the door, closer to his bed, giving a slight nod.
“Dear Heavenly Father …” the priest began.
I didn’t hear the next words as revulsion and resentment coiled inside of me while this family prayed to something that wasn’t there. My disturbance got the better of me and I soon found myself turning and exiting the room before the prayer and words from the priest were completed. Johnny would be better off if I was getting scrubbed and ready for this delicate surgery, instead of me standing there as whatever gibberish was spoken.
****
Grace
“Aww man,” I groaned as I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, working my tired muscles after exiting the operating room. Johnny’s surgery took longer than initially thought due to the extensive nature of his burns. There was more scar tissue on his abdomen and arms which made for a tricky surgery.
“You were great in there,” the compliment spilled from my lips with ease as I peered up at Jacob who walked beside me.
His eyes shone with something before he blinked and it was gone. “As were you. But he’s still got a long road ahead of him.” He sighed in anguish.
My heart tugged at his forlorn expression. “You have a soft side, Dr. Reynolds,” I joked.
He surprised me by rounding in front of me, stopping us both right before we turned the corner to the main hallway. He didn’t say anything at first, waiting until a few of the last remaining staff members who’d assisted in the surgery passed by us.
“I don’t have a soft side.”
I smirked. “You do. It doesn’t like to make an appearance too often but you’ve shown your hand with Johnny Westbrook. You were almost as delicate talking to him in his room, as you are when making those perfect butterfly stitches.” I giggled at my own joke.
Jacob’s lips formed a frown but his eyes sparkled, telling me he wasn’t actually pissed at what I was saying.
“You even tried to stay in the room as the priest prayed for him,” I blurted out. I saw the way his face changed to one of caution and distrust once the priest showed up. He hesitated when the family asked him to remain for the prayer, and although he acquiesced, he left the room before it was over.
“You saw that, huh?”
I nodded. “Not one for organized religion?”
“Organized or unorganized.”
“You’re an atheist.”
The lower half of his jaw worked as he clenched his teeth.
“That make me some sort of leper to you?” he asked, as if my answer truly mattered.
I shrugged. “You’re not the first physician I’ve encountered who was an atheist. Far be it from me to judge anyone on their spiritual beliefs, or lack thereof, as in your case.”
He moved closer and my body warmed. I looked down to see his left hand covering my arm, his thumb tracing the inside of my forearm.
