“Turns out Chucky was Nick’s brother,” she continued, “and I’m betting that he was the same Chucky who went home right before I left here back in ’72.”
“Look, Shelly, I … um.” He stopped to collect his thoughts.
“Just tell me, is that the same Chucky, Doc?” She crossed her arms.
He understood her wanting to know. It was her past as much as it was his. Back then, he wanted to make all of them well, even though he lived by those two rules of medicine. One: patients get ill and patients die. Two: you can’t change rule number one. He had been a young black physician in the deep South. He had told Shelly how he always felt like he was walking on eggshells trying to make everybody happy. But it wasn’t easy, especially when dealing with death. Some people refused to let him treat their kids because of the color of his skin. But not Shelly’s mom. They showed up and she let him carry Shelly to the front desk. He had felt just as important as any other doctor. And he had to be. He had to make the little girl better.
“The last thing I wanted to do was let you down,” Dr. Wall began. “I knew Kristen was not going to make it. But you were so good for her. So, when we lost Chucky, I didn’t think it was so wrong to have you believe that he went home. And the fact that Nick Harris is his brother is just a strange coincidence being played out thirty years later. You know I love you as my own, and the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you. Or lie to you.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I know.” She sniffled. “But is there anything else you haven’t told me? I did have cancer, didn’t I?”
“Of course you did, Shelly.” He sighed. “I only lied about Chucky to give you a boost in confidence and reassurance that treatment does work. I felt you might need an extra push to fight off the cancer. And you did.” He paused. “But there is one thing you need to know.”
She waited, her stillness and eye contact telling him he had to continue.
“It’s not about the past—well, I guess it is a little.” The words stumbled from his mouth. “You know that twenty-five thousand dollar donation that was earmarked for the playground?” He held up the printout and let Shelly read the names next to the donation.
“Salvatore and Nicholas Harris? You can’t be serious.”