Page 44 of The Launch

“Well, that’s the goal.” Jo smiles and hands Edwina a stack of Dixie cups. “He was an Air Force pilot, so flying is in his blood. More than anything, I know Bill wants to lead a mission to space.”

Edwina whistles as she carefully stocks the cabinet with paper goods. “Lofty goals. All I want is for my husband to get off the couch after six o’clock in the evening.”

Jo laughs good-naturedly. “Bill has a lot of energy, I’ll give him that.”

“And how do you feel about him being an astronaut?”

Jo tips her head and raises one shoulder. “Umm. I support it. I mean, I’m scared sometimes, but I believe in him.”

“I’d be scared too, honey. Space is really something else.”

“What does your husband do?” Jo asks.

“Dwight is a detective.”

“Oh!” The way Edwina has talked about her husband over the months Jo has known her has led her to believe that he does something slightly less exciting for a job. “Does he investigate crimes?”

“He does.” Edwina looks thoroughly unimpressed. “But from where I sit, that pretty much means he cuts out of work around four, stops for a few beers, and comes home looking as tired and beat down as a Saint Bernard.”

“Being a detective has to be a tough job.”

“He makes it tougher on himself,” Edwina says wryly. “He likes watching the sports all evening and drinking his beer, which means he ends up huffing and puffing his way through the workday.” She gives a dismissive roll of her eyes. “You’d think a man married to a nurse might listen to her when she tells him to watch his blood pressure and lay off the beers, but then you’d be wrong, wouldn’t you?”

Jo hands her a box of sterile bandages and Edwina shelves them in the proper place. “Hey,” Jo says, changing the subject. “How is Mr. Dandridge doing? I’ve never asked him what he’s here for, but he’s been in the hospital for a while now, so I was hoping maybe there was good news. Is he getting better?”

Edwina sets a box on the shelf, pushes it to the back, and then turns to look Jo squarely in the eye. “Oh, honey,” she says, her face and voice full of pity. “No.”

“No?” Jo frowns. In her mind—despite seeing plenty of evidence to the contrary during her time as a volunteer—Jo still believes that people come to the hospital to be fixed. Thedoctors work their magic, and the patient goes home. In fact, she’s already envisioned herself visiting Mr. D in his little house, wherever that may be, bringing him a home-cooked meal, or letting her kids come by to say hello. They could be kind of like a surrogate family for Mr. D.

Edwina shakes her head. “No.” Her eyes are wide and a little watery. “I know you love Douglas as much as the rest of us do—maybe more—so there’s no easy way to say this, but he’s got terminal cancer, sweetheart.”

Jo’s heart falls directly from its place behind her rib cage and lands at her feet. The world around her makes awhooshingsound and then goes quiet. “Cancer? Terminal? Are they sure?”

Edwina nods and reaches out a hand, taking Jo’s in her own and holding onto it. “They’re sure. He’s been getting treatment, but it’s not working anymore, honey. I think you need to be prepared, because there’s a strong chance that he won’t make it until Christmas.”

“Oh.” Jo swallows around the lump that’s growing in her throat. “Okay. I guess I should have realized there was something serious going on, given that he’s been here all summer.”

Edwina looks at her softly. “Hey, we all engage in a little magical thinking sometimes. It’s the reason I don’t work in pediatrics anymore: I found myself bargaining and thinking that if I just did something better in my own life, the universe might give those beautiful little children a better chance at survival.” She smiles, but it’s a sad one. “Never worked.”

Jo nods and squeezes Edwina’s hand. “Thank you for just telling me flat-out. I would have asked Dr. Chavez, but I wasn’t sure if he’d give me personal information about a patient like that.”

Edwina’s sad face turns impish. “Oh, I think Dr. Chavez would giveyouanything you asked for.”

Jo is puzzled by this; she’s never asked him for anything. “Come again?”

“Oh, come on, Josephine. That man is a handsome devil, and a world class flirt, to boot. I even caught him flirting with me one time. I was flattered, but I have enough sense to know that it was just an automatic reflex on his part. You know, that man will flirt with anything in a skirt, but somehow it’s not the least bit creepy.” She pauses, considering this. “Come to think of it, I spent the rest of the day feeling like a million bucks after he told me he liked my brooch.” She glances down at the pearl and rhinestone pin that she always has clipped to the collar of her nurse’s uniform. Edwina shakes her head like she’s mystified. “He just has a way.”

“Ladies,” Dr. Chavez says, poking his head into the storage room and making both Edwina and Jo jump guiltily. Jo can’t stifle her nervous giggle in time. “Catch you with your hands in the cookie jar?” Dr. Chavez teases, looking confused at their response.

“No,” Jo says with a wide, dopey grin. “We were just having some girl talk.”

“Well, if you’re done chewing the fat, ladies, then maybe I can borrow Nurse Edwina for my rounds this morning? I have some things I need assistance with,” he says, glancing at the watch on his wrist.

“I’ll see you both later,” Jo says, giving them a quick nod as she hurries off to find her cart of goodies and start making the rounds. She’s been taking on more of an assisting role with general duties like inventory, arranging for linens to be sent to the laundry and delivered back to the ward, and even making phone calls to families to arrange for them to come in and meet with their loved ones’ doctors. But although these things make her feel important, Jo’s favorite task is still popping into eachroom and seeing the patients smile when she offers them cookies and reading materials.

“Hey, kid,” Mr. Dandridge says brightly as she enters the room. It’s like he knows that Jo has heard the truth about his diagnosis and he’s intentionally rallied to impress her, because Douglas Dandridge is sitting up in bed, his wispy white hair combed neatly, hands folded in his lap. “Come on in and tell me everything you’ve got going on.”

Jo leaves her cart on the side of the room, as she usually does. She sits in the chair next to Mr. D’s bed, forcing herself to look cheerful. “Well,” she says, patting her knees with both hands as she crosses her feet at the ankles under the chair. “All three of my kids are back in school, and it’s going well. Jimmy is in the sixth grade, Nancy is in fifth grade, and Kate is in second grade.”

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