The Heart of a Woman
"Dad, it's me. We're at the hospital," James stated cryptically.
"Annie?" Mr. Reed inquired. He heard his son utter a strangled grunt in response. "I'm on my way, son," Mr. Reed replied before gently replacing the receiver in its cradle. The call was not entirely unexpected. There had been so many in the past that each time the phone rang, he flinched, always expecting the worst. He pulled on his coat and reached for a chain of dangling keys.
The bitter cold assaulted his senses as he grudgingly trudged to his truck. A thin layer of ice cracked and broke away as he gave the door a stubborn yank and climbed inside. Small drifts of fresh snow crunched under his spinning tires. He murmured a curse under his breath as the worn vehicle struggled to gain traction on the icy pavement. The old truck shuddered violently as he shifted gears and made his way haltingly up the hill.
His attention was divided between his battle with the elements and his concern for Annie's well-being. James would not have called if it weren't serious. With Annie, it was almost always serious.
A few minutes later, Mr. Reed paused at the emergency room entrance. He stamped his feet and flapped the ice crystals from his coat before stepping inside. He closed the distance to the elevator, a route he knew by heart. He sighed heavily as he felt the machine lifting him upwards towards the cardiac intensive care ward on the sixth floor.
He passed two nurses in the corridor whose faces looked familiar and they both gave him a weak smile of recognition. He nodded sharply in response and made a gesture to tip his hat slightly. In the waiting room ahead, he could see his son, James, seated with his face buried against his palms. He crouched and sank heavily into the chair next to him, placing one hand on his son's shoulder for moral support.
"How's Annie?" he asked gently.
James shook his head in despair and glanced at his watch. "I don't know. They aren't saying, Dad. We've been here six hours," James said with his face twisted into a deep frown of concern.
"You should've called me sooner," his father chided gently.
"I was hoping they'd just take a look at her and send her home, Dad," James replied staring bleakly at the polished tile floor. "The doctor came out one time and poked his head in just to say there's some kind of complications. He didn't say what. That's when I called you," James explained looking dejected as he peered down the hallway for any sign of activity outside his wife's room.
Patrick Reed patted his son's back with a wide palm. "Maybe they'll know something soon, son. It takes time with all those tests," he said with feigned reassurance.
James nodded silently in response. Both men settled back in their chairs and stared blankly at the muted television screen on the wall. They were both in their own worlds, each lost in thought as they waited. The hospital surroundings felt cold and sterile, void of emotion. They turned to their own memories as a distraction.
**********
Patrick Reed recalled the first time he had met Annie. James was ten at the time, and Annie was a mere seven. Patrick had offered to take James ice skating and the offer for his son to have a friend tag along resulted in big surprise when James asked to take the little girl from down the street.
Patrick Reed knew about the girl named Annie, but he had never met her, or her parents. He had been called to the school by the principal a week earlier about 'an incident' in which James had been involved. The principal, Mr. Murphy, had explained in a hushed tone that bringing him in for a discussion was merely a formality.
The incident, it turned out, occurred when James defended a new student from an attack by an older group of boys who were verbally accosting the little girl in question. When one of the boys shoved her down on the playground, James came to the rescue. Mr. Reed was not surprised by his son's actions. He had raised the boy to not only stand his ground on his own behalf, but to have compassion for the weaker and less fortunate.
James staunchly lived up to his father's expectations, and Mr. Murphy issued only a firm scolding as punishment. A week later, James was still sporting a dark bruise on his cheek from the altercation when his father suggested the ice-skating expedition.
"Can I take Annie?" James asked with enthusiasm.
"Annie?" Mr. Reed asked with carefully masked surprise. "Isn't that the little girl from down the street?" James nodded. "Well, we don't know her parents, son. I'm not sure they would approve," Patrick pointed out with some misgivings.
"Well, we could go meet them," James offered tentatively. "They might say yes, if you asked them, Dad," James suggested.
"Mr. Murphy told me that Annie has some physical problems, James. Did you know that?" Patrick fished vaguely.
James nodded in earnest. "She had something called 'room-matic fever'."
Patrick smiled slightly. "You mean rheumatic fever," he corrected gently. "She also has diabetes, son. Both of those things are pretty serious. It makes Annie one very sick little girl. Her parents aren't likely to let her out of their sight for very long. I imagine they would be too worried to let her go skating for the afternoon. Why don't you ask your friend William to go instead," he suggested.
"Dad, I don't want to take Billy. I want to take Annie," James stubbornly insisted. "Annie never gets to go anywhere with the other kids. She told me so. And, no one wants to play with her because they think they might catch something from her. Please, Dad?" James pleaded.
Patrick smiled and tousled his son's hair affectionately. "Alright, son. It can't hurt to ask, I suppose."
A short while later, father and son crunched their way up the snow-crusted walkway of the McPherson residence. Patrick banged his fist against the wooden frame of a screened front porch. Soon, a woman peered out from behind a set of white cotton curtains that covered the glass panes of the main door. She fumbled with several locks before the door cracked open.
"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked still standing behind the protection of the wooden door. She looked a bit haggard, more tired than old, as she peeped suspiciously at them through the narrow crack.
Patrick gave her a wide smile and tipped his hat. "Mrs. McPherson?" he inquired. The woman gave a stiff nod and tilted her head with cautious interest. "I'm Patrick Reed, and this is my son, James. He's a friend of your girl, Annie," he said gesturing to the boy at his side. "We're your neighbors from up the street," he explained, casting a glance in the direction of his own home.
