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Les grimaced. “That sounds so self-serving.”
Elaine chuckled, a tender sound. “Oh, my sweet baby. I’ve known you since that first moment of conception, when God put you inside me. I know your heart. Your dreams, your happiness, will always involve helping others, bringing ease to those in pain, no matter what that pain is.”
At Les’s troubled look, Elaine met her gaze. “And yes, being a doctor is only one of many ways you can accomplish that. But the one piece of advice I have for you is one you’re smart enough to know already. Don’t change course because you’re afraid of failure. That path is life itself, and the first time you do that, it will become ever easier to do it, until you find you’ve denied yourself every dream you’ve ever had. Do you understand?”
“I do.” Les brushed away the tears that kept randomly falling, and smiled through them as her mother fished out a tissue from her purse and gave it to her. She blotted her eyes. “I know I’m a control freak. I just wish there was some clear answer in my head right now, something that I could trust isn’t from grief over Llanzo, or the anxiety over doing it again.”
“It takes time for things to become clear. This only happened a few days ago.”
“That’s what everyone keeps telling me, especially Brick. I’m just trained to be in a headspace where I have to fix and solve every problem right now.” A half smile crossed her face. “Like when we’re asked questions in rounds. I need to have the answer, need to study enough the night before, so I don’t get tripped up.”
Elaine’s lips curved. Her gaze moved past Les’s shoulder. “He’s a good man. Overprotective, but most of the good ones are. Yet I see him giving you the space you need at the right times, respecting your strengths, your need to figure things out for yourself. That’s a quality a good man has, too. He’s left the boy he was behind, but even in high school, he had an unexpected maturity.”
Les had felt Brick’s presence without turning to look. She’d known he wouldn’t follow the others to the rotunda. He respected her mother, but he made his own decisions about Les’s wellbeing, no matter what forces came to bear on that. Elaine was right. He was a man, not a boy.
A twinkle danced through her mother’s gaze. “Being easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt, either.”
“Mom.” But Les had to smile. “Like we don’t have enough eye candy in this family with Thomas and Marcus. And yes, Rory is maybe hot, too. He was a pain in the butt too long for me to admit that anywhere he can hear it.”
Elaine chuckled. “You two did rub one another the wrong way when you were younger. Thomas was old enough that you looked up to him and saw him more like you saw your father. You wanted to be involved in what Rory was doing, and he didn’t want a little sister tagging after him. But when it was important, he looked after you.”
“Yeah, in the ‘I’m the only one allowed to torture her’ kind of way.” Les made a face.
“All my children were born with good looks.” Elaine brushed a finger along Les’s face. “But that’s another good thing about having a man who loves you. He reminds you of your beauty, in the right ways.”
Elaine sobered. “A life well lived, as who you are, as the kind of person you aspire to be, is what I want for you. For all of you.” That bittersweet look returned. “Thomas taught me that. So did Marcus. Love is about souls, striving to find one another and give each other comfort in the many ups and downs of this life.”
She nodded in Brick’s direction. “And though you have places to go and things to do before you make any permanent decisions, I’d say he already sees your soul and appreciates everything it is. He’s a good person to be at your side at this time of your life.”
“He is.” Les looked over her shoulder. Brick stood at one of the ponds scattered through the cemetery. A pair of ducks glided across it. His hands were in his slacks pockets, the gesture pulling the suit coat across his shoulders. His legs braced on the bank gave her a hint of the firm backside.
“I understand a doctor isn’t a superhero.” Her lips twitched. “But I think I might be the girlfriend of one.”
Elaine covered Les’s hand again. Les felt the touch of the wedding rings. “As formidable as he might be, he needs someone as strong as he is. With what he does for a living, and just the ups and downs of life itself, he’ll have his rough days. If you decide you want to be that person, he’ll be blessed.”
The resolve in her mother’s voice, the sincerity in the words, bolstered Les in immeasurable ways. She also remembered when she’d accompanied him to the Whitfield house. Though part of it had been her reluctance to be alone with her thoughts, an intuitive sense had told her he might appreciate the company, even if it was just having someone supportive sitting outside and waiting for him.
Like he had outside the M&M.
For both of them, their first dead child was not going to be their last. She wanted to be there to help him when he had those rough days. Help her superhero feel stronger and more capable of facing his daily challenges.
“I know my desire to be a doctor has to be a dream for me. But is it wrong that at least part of it is for you and Dad?”
“No. That fits with what I said about your big heart.” Elaine brushed Les’s hair over her shoulder, adjusting the neckline of the dress in a very motherly fashion. “But something isn’t right. Your body is acting like it’s a prisoner to the choices you’re making.”
Elaine’s gaze slid toward her uneasy stomach, and up over Les’s prominent collar bones. “That was what Thomas’s stomach ulcers were. Nothing opens a mother’s eyes to the dangers of forced expectations like seeing her child destroying his body.”
“Mom…”
Elaine held up a hand. “I’m not changing what I said. I’m saying if you are meant to be a doctor, you need to understand what’s causing that reaction. Perhaps the loss of this child brought those things more squarely into the light."
Why did you become a doctor?
Her mother’s words, Brick’s, Beulah’s, Dr. Portland’s… If she was brave enough, smart enough, to apply her mind to them, they might increase the power of that light, shine it on the tentative connections. Thin strands between ideas, answers, possibilities.
Les looked down at their clasped hands, her mother’s wedding ring. “Was he proud of me? Did he think I could do good, strong, important things, like he thought Rory and Thomas could?”
“Les.” Her mom’s voice was surprised, and she touched Les’s chin to lift her face. Les was at a loss to explain it further, but fortunately her mother understood. She was a woman, after all.
