Gilbert Morris by The Angel of Bastogne Read Free Book Online

cream.”
    Ben took them, smiled his thanks. “You’ll call me when Dr. Delaughter’s free?”
    â€œYes, and I’ll let her know you’re here,” the nurse smiled.
    Ben nodded, walked down the hall, and entered the waiting room. A middle-aged couple looked up as he entered. They were sitting close together and holding hands. Both of them had tense looks on their faces.
    â€œHello,” Ben said. They greeted him but said nothing. Ben sat down and sipped at his coffee. It was pretty bad. Ben had often said that the worst cup of coffee he ever had in his life was very good, but this almost made him decide to change that statement. It tasted something like he imagined old tar would taste. For the next hour and a half Ben sat and fidgeted in the chair. He made the rounds of the tables beside the chairs, going through the magazines. Most of them were for women: Redbook , Ladies’ Home Journal , Cosmopolitan , Better Homes and Gardens . Ben scanned through them, trying to find something that interested him and wondered with some irritation why they didn’t have a Sports Illustrated or a Popular Science . Didn’t they know a man had to endure the miseries of a waiting room as well? Finally he gave up, went down to his car, and got the notebook.
    After returning to the waiting room, he sat there making notes, trying to recast the story without a great deal of success. The story would come from the people, and he hadn’t met any of them yet.
    â€œDo you have someone in surgery?”
    Ben looked up quickly and saw that the middle-aged man had spoken to him. “No, I don’t. How about you?”
    â€œOur daughter,” the man said. He could not control the slight tremor in his voice. “She’s only three.”
    â€œI hope it’s not serious,” Ben said. He made his living with words, but in situations like this, he could never find words that had much meaning. He dreaded funerals, for what can one say to the survivors? He understood that people should go, and they should say something, but such things were a torment to him. He hesitated before asking, “What happened to your daughter?”
    The man started to speak then had to stop and clear his throat. The woman, who looked to be in her early forties, said quickly, “She was with some friends at a party and was thrown out of a car. The door popped open.”
    Ben tried desperately to think of something that would bring a faint encouragement to the couple. He saw the pain and the fear written across the faces of the pair and made the inane remark, “I’m sure she’ll be all right.” Then he realized he should have said, “I hope she’ll be all right,” but it was too late to change it.
    â€œDr. Delaughter is doing the surgery,” the woman said, and hope came to her eyes. “We know she’s in good hands.”
    â€œIs Dr. Delaughter your doctor?”
    â€œMore or less. She’s a pediatrician, but she does mostly surgery now.”
    â€œWhat’s your daughter’s name?”
    â€œHer name’s Angela. I wanted to name her Angel,” the man said, “but Mary here talked me out of it.”
    â€œAngela is a fine name. I suppose it means angel in Spanish.”
    â€œYes. I think so,” the man said. “That’s what she is, an angel.”
    â€œYou have other children?”
    â€œNo. I had five miscarriages. We married late, so she’s all we have.”
    Once again a feeling of helplessness touched Ben Raines. I’ d hate to be a doctor and bring bad news to a couple like this, he thought. He tried to think of something comforting, and nothing came to him. Fortunately, at that moment, a woman in the garb of a doctor with a stethoscope around her neck stepped in. At once the two got up and rushed to her. “Is she all right, Doctor?” the woman cried.
    â€œShe’s going to be fine.”
    Ben watched and