I tucked myself into bed next to Chloe once again; she was already snoozing away. I dialed Harry's number and waited. It sounded like he answered after several rings, but then I heard muffled sounds and the call went dead. Strange. I tried again and this time I was answered by a muffled Hello.

"Hi, Babe, How was your day?" I asked.

"Ellie?" He questioned.

"Yes, it's me. Didn't you see my name when I called?" 

"Uh, yes...I mean no, I uh, didn't see it I guess." 

I was a little panicked at the sound of his flustered voice. "Is everything okay? You sound kind of spooked."

"No, no," he muddled. "I was just, uh, you know, I'm kind of overwhelmed with this hospital thing."

Something just wasn't right and the feeling burned like an arrow through my gut. "Harry," I asked cautiously, "have you been drinking again?"

"What?" He asked, suddenly sounding agitated. "No! No, it's nothing like that. I gotta go, okay?" 

"You're scaring me," I said. 

Without even addressing my concern, he just said, "See you when you get back," and hung up.

"What the hell?" I grumbled quietly to myself. "See you when you get back? I'm not going back til Monday." As much as I wanted an explanation for his bizarre behavior, I knew it probably wouldn't do much good to try to hash it out over the phone. Too many things can be misconstrued when not speaking face to face. Still, my heart clenched in worry for most of the night, hoping he was really okay and hadn't gone off the deep end or something.

Morning came too early. Chloe's voice was gently coaxing Catniss, "Give her a kiss." Then I felt a wet feline nose nudging up against my nose, and then my chin and cheeks. I started giggling, opening my eyes to a close up of Catniss's pink tongue, displaying her affection for me.

"Are you gonna miss your mommy?" Chloe cooed. "I'll take good care of you."

"Thanks, Bugaboo," I giggled. "I'm glad I'm leaving her in good hands." We were summoned downstairs by the heavenly smell of thick-cut bacon and real maple syrup, which could only mean one thing. "Pancakes!" Chloe and I shouted at the same time.

Chloe went running ahead while I decided to call Harry. It went straight to voicemail. "Hey, Harry, it's Ellie. I'm kind of worried about you. You weren't yourself last night. Give me a call and let me know you're okay. Bye." I hoped that message would convey enough of my concern without making him think I was being too pushy.

At breakfast, I filled everyone in on the festival, and then my dad launched into the interrogation. He'd been working most of the weekend, so this was our first chance to have a real conversation. "When are you gonna fill your old man in on your love life?" Blunt and to the point.

"My love life is none of your business," I chuckled and he cringed. "But I am dating a rather handsome doctor named Harry Styles. He's the head of my department and well, we just hit if off."

"He is very handsome," my mother pitched in, agreeing with me. 

"What does handsome have to do with dating our baby girl?" He demanded lightly. "He'd better be the cream of the crop or no deal."

I rolled my eyes just a bit at his classic over-protectiveness. "Well, on the side, he's an ax murderer, but he covers it up pretty well. You know, disposing the dead bodies through the morgue."

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. "Not funny," he said, but a smile was tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

"Well, I didn't mention this to Mom, but he is, in fact, a genius. I'm not even joking. He finished medical school at twenty-two."

"Are you serious?" My mom chimed in.

"I'm absolutely serious, as long as he's telling me the truth and he's not actually an axe murderer." I stopped to stick my tongue out at my dad, playfully of course. "He's quite ambitious, head of my the ER, as I mentioned, and he's on the committee to add a new, separate pediatric ER. If all goes according to plan, he will be the new director for the pediatric ER."

"So, that means he's loaded?" My dad asked.

"Dad!" I laughed. "Be serious."

"I am serious. I mean he's got to provide for my little girl."

"First of all, we've only been dating about a month, so we're not serious. Not yet, anyway. Second, I am very capable of providing for myself." He just stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate. "Well, if it's any indication, he does live in the penthouse of my building."

My dad's jaw dropped. He wasn't nearly as shallow as he was acting at the moment. Of course, good provision mattered to him, and he'd proved it by taking care of our family exceptionally well over the years. But even I was impressed at the penthouse. 

Finally recovering his ability to speak, he surprised me by saying, "You just might want to be careful."

"About what?" 

"Sounds like he's the perfect man."

"And that's a problem why?" 

"Perfect can mean perfectionism, which isn't a very healthy trait. Sounds like he might be a bit of a workaholic." Boy, was he right on that one. "That type of personality can lead to lots of health issues like heart disease, strokes, and alcoholism." 

I winced at that last one. My father was no expert, but what he had just shared was common knowledge. But I had an uneasy curiosity, wondering if Harry was headed down the path to alcoholism. Sure, he had overdone it a number of times, but don't we all in some way or another? We all go through stressful times; everyone just handles it differently. As much as I wanted to brush off that thought, I wondered if Harry's unusual behavior the previous night was indeed a sign of something more serious. 

I stood on the doorstep of Thomas's house, a place I'd been thousands of times. There was no need for me to knock on Aunt Jean's door, but I had to give myself a pep talk. I was a nurse and I knew how to keep my emotions at bay. It was part of my job. 

"Hello?" I called as I pushed the door open. 

"Is that Ellie?" Aunt Jean called, appearing in the doorway only moments later. She resembled my mother so much, just with a lot more gray in her hair and a few more wrinkles around her eyes. She was older, granted, but she'd had more than her share of heartbreak in her life. Her husband, Tom, Sr. had died just a few years before Thomas's first bout of cancer. The rest of Tom and Jean's kids would now have to be on high alert, getting screened at least on a yearly basis for any possibility of cancer. My older cousin Kelly was married and had a few kids, and never had one sign of cancer, but Lisa had already had a few suspicious spots removed, and she was just a few years older than Thomas. 

"Hey, Aunt Jean," I said, walking into her embrace. "I'm so sorry. This has got to be awful for you." 

She stepped back and nodded. Of course it was awful. But she surprised me by saying, "I've been through it before, so at least this time I know how to do it." Her eyes blinked furiously, trying to get her tears to evaporate before hitting her cheeks. "I'm just thankful that God has allowed me to be the one to love them through it."

Her attitude stunned me. Instead of drowning in self-pity, she viewed this as a chance to simply love those whom God had called her to love. It was such a different picture than the world in which I normally functioned - family and friends willing to do everything and anything to save their loved ones' lives, and in some way - small or large - trying at the same time to spare themselves the inevitable pain. Aunt Jean knew pain was imminent, but her focus was on what she was able to do for Thomas, and that was to give him all the love he needed to die peacefully. 

I stepped into the living room, where Thomas lay in his hospital bed, all the tubes and machines doing exactly what they were supposed to do. I stopped short as two distinct sectors of my world savagely collided. No, I wasn't prepared for this. As a nurse, I faced it every day. But as a friend, a sister, I had never faced pain like this. All my training went out the window as the tears burst free without my consent.

"Come here," Thomas soothed, opening his feeble arms to me. I sat on the bed and laid against him, allowing him to comfort me, which seemed very much the opposite of what should be happening. I sobbed against him, feeling that his body was already bony and frail. 

When I finally got a hold of myself, I sat up and said, "Sorry. I should be the one encouraging you."

"Nah," he grinned weakly. "I'm all right. I kind of expected it."

"Really?" 

"Well, the first time I went through it, I think that was when I faced my fear of dying. So, even though this time kind of cold-cocked me, it didn't take me long to find that peace again. It just sucks for my mom, you know."

"And me, too," I frowned. 

"Yeah, I know. But I'm still here now, so what's up?" 

I couldn't believe his calmness and confidence. Every so often, he needed to stop and catch his breath, or give his morphine a little extra pump, but he carried on as we always had. I told him about my place in Chicago and showed him pictures of the beach out my front door. I flipped across pictures and landed on one of Harry and me at Navy Pier. 

"You'd live at Navy Pier if you could," Thomas joked. He'd been there with me numerous times and knew my unlimited fascination with the place. "It's no surprise at all that you live right by it." I nodded, remembering so many of my dreams that had already come true. "Who's the dude?" 

I blushed a little, knowing Thomas would give me hell even if I was dating a king. I guess I was lucky that the men in my family had high expectations for my future husband. "Harry," I smiled. "He's the ER director where I work."

"Uh-huh," Thomas deadpanned. "It looks like you two are on official hospital business in that picture."

"Shut up," I giggled. "Yes, we're dating, but it's not serious."

"You shut up," Thomas laughed back. "And I'll bet it's more serious than you're letting on. He's hot."

"Didn't know you had such good taste in men," I said, nudging him. 

"Only where my sis is involved." We had always referred to each other as brother and sister, and our parents never corrected us. As a matter of fact, in high school, many of our acquaintances believed that's exactly what we were, which seemed odd only because Thomas's father was Lebanese. Thomas had jet black hair, golden eyes, and gorgeous olive skin, which seemed so much more pale to me now. Even so, there was nothing about us that would shout siblings, except for our closeness. 

I stayed with Thomas until late into the night, watching movies, recalling our adventures. When it came time to say good-bye, there were more tears, to be sure. But I felt an inexplicable peace, just knowing Thomas was at peace with what was happening to him.

I had tried to call Harry repeatedly throughout the day, but it always went straight to voicemail. I left a message every time, hoping he would at least send a text saying he was all right, but nothing. I was caught between annoyance and worry at this point - why on earth would he have his phone off all day and not even think to call me? 

I had planned to spend Labor Day with my parents and head back to Chicago later in the evening, but before I went to bed that night, I decided I would get up and drive back first thing.

Something just wasn't right.

______

This double update was brought to you by a bottle of Chardonnay. (It was a gift. I'm too cheap to buy wine for myself.)

Any thoughts on what's going on with our dear doctor?

Oh, and after I titled this chapter "Unresponsive" I started thinking that I should have titled every chapter with a medical term. Damn, what was I thinking? Now my OCD will force me to go back and rename them all! lol (the wine will help)