Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Oh my God.”

“I know; it’s awful, isn’t it?” Honey asked her boyfriend as he entered the room. She was watching the news coverage of a natural disaster in Asia.

“It’s always awful. But did they just say that town was Wetthe, Myanmar?”

“Yes, why?”

Brian sat down heavily. “I know someone—a classmate all through undergraduate and medical school—who’s from that town.”

“Oh, Brian,” Honey said, moving to sit beside him. “Are you still in touch with him? Her?”

“Not often. We’re all pretty busy, and he’s busier than most. They don’t have enough doctors in that part of the world. But the group of us who stayed together from day one to graduation—the second time around—have a group. I have to log on and see if anyone’s heard from him.”

“Of course.”

Brian pulled his phone out. He checked his friend’s feed first, but didn’t see any sign that his friend had been online recently. He checked his own feed; no activity from the group, either. He posted quickly to the group: “Anyone heard from Phil? Is he okay?”

While Brian was on his phone, Honey got her own phone out and texted the other Bob-Whites. BWG fundraiser needed for earthquake in Asia. One of Brian’s classmates is from the town on the news.

Diana responded almost immediately. I was at the florist when I heard the news. They’re talking about doing a ‘proceeds from the sale of some flower’ will benefit earthquake recovery. Let’s organize with them.

Mother’s Day is coming up – we could deliver flowers, Trixie suggested.

Bri’s friend okay? Jim asked.

He’s trying to find out. No word yet.

Anything we can do, Dan chimed in.

BWG meeting tomorrow at 7? Mart suggested. Di—will that give you time to find out what exactly the florist is planning / willing to do?

We’re free then, Jim agreed.

I don’t get off until 7, so I’ll be a little late, Dan responded.

“Brian? Bob-White meeting at seven tomorrow?” Brian nodded distractedly, searching news reports as well as social media for any sign of his friend.

🔍

The Bob-Whites were more somber than usual when they gathered the following night. Brian still hadn’t seen anything from Phil online or on the news, and none of his classmates had confirmed contact, either. He tried to remain optimistic, since phone and internet infrastructure had likely been damaged or destroyed and, even if it hadn’t, Phil’s focus was likely on aiding the survivors, not checking social media. But he knew there were other possibilities, and the continued reports of the number of casualties didn’t help.

“The florist was thinking they’d see if they can source the national flower of Myanmar, and then it’d be proceeds, after cost, goes to recovery. But they’re open to suggestions and agreed that linking up with Mother’s Day might bring in a higher total,” Di reported when Jim called the meeting to order.

“Are they really on board with making no profit on Mother’s Day? Can they afford to be that generous?” Mart asked.

“I don’t know, but, honestly, even some percentage is likely to bring in a decent amount. Won’t hurt to ask them, anyway,” Honey said.

“I think they’re looking for us to bring them a proposal, based on where I left it with them.”

Jim grabbed a notepad. “Okay, so we’re proposing that X percent of the profit on all arrangements ordered between now and Mother’s Day, will be donated to...the Red Cross disaster response? Or is there something more specific we can do, Brian, to help your friend’s village?”

“Phil was setting up a clinic. I don’t know if it took damage, or if it’s a recognized non-profit, but I know someone who should know and might be eaiser to reach than Phil is right now.”

“So, first choice is to the clinic, and if that’s a no-go, for whatever reason, then Red Cross is good?”

Brian nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Any objections?” Jim checked before moving on. “Other than talking the florist into something they were pretty much going to do anyway, what role are the Bob-Whites committing to play in this fundraiser?”

“We can certainly talk it up. And we’re good at creating posters and convincing all the businesses in town to let us hang them,” Dan said.

“I can talk to my editor,” Mart offered. Maybe the Sun will donate some ad space, or run a story on our local connection to the disaster, and the fundraiser—if you’re okay with that, Brian?”

Brian frowned. “It shouldn’t be about me.”

“It’s not, really,” Honey assured him. “Most people are good people and want to be generous and help others. We just all get donation fatigue sometimes. There are so many causes, it’s hard to choose. ‘Prioritizing’ in these cases makes most people feel like a monster, so they pick their charities by what they have a personal connection to. They give to American Cancer Society because a dear friend was diagnosed with cancer, and to the Humane Society in memory of a beloved fur baby they rescued, but don’t give to the local food shelf because they don’t know anyone who wants for food. It’s not that they think ending animal cruelty is more important than ending hunger, it’s just what they have a tie to. So, knowing they have a tie, three degrees of separation or not, to this disaster will give more people the push beyond donation overload to give.”

🔍

Brian answered his phone quickly, seeing the international number. Another of his classmates, and part of the group of friends he’d made while studying to become a doctor, had promised to call as soon as she had any news about Phil. Unlike Brian, she had contact information for Phil’s family. “Hello Brian. Is this a good time? I can’t remember how many hours over you are at this time of year.”

“Tell me about it. Now is fine. Any time is fine, if you’ve finally heard from Phil.”

“I’ve been in touch with his family. Brian, I’m sorry. They recovered his body this morning.”

Brian put his head in his free hand. “We knew the odds weren’t with him after so long,” Brian admitted at last.

“But we hoped anyway, because hope was all we had.” Sarai paused before speaking again. “He got everyone else out first, even the terminal patients. The other staff have all told the story. Many of them wanted to leave the terminal patients—they’re just going to die anyway. He refused, told them all, ‘We’re all going to die anyway, eventually. It isn’t any more their time than ours.’ He went back to double check, to make sure they hadn’t missed anyone, and he didn’t make it back out in time.”

“Could he have been rescued?” Brian asked. He didn’t want to know his friend had been alive in the rubble, slowly dying, hope of rescue fading with each breath. But he had to know, because that image was already in his head.

“No, Brian. There’s no suggestion he lived anywhere near long enough for a rescue to have been feasible. They’re not sure yet whether the water or the building collapse killed him, but it wasn’t drawn out.”

“Thank God,” Brian whispered. He rubbed his face, memories of his old classmate coming quickly to mind, as they do in such moments. “He was the only doctor they had, wasn’t he? The only doctor anywhere in the vicinity, right? What’s his village going to do? A disaster like this, they must be desperate for doctors.”

“The relief agencies bring medical staff with them, so, in the immediate future, they’re okay, but yes, he was the only doctor in the area.”

“What are they going to do?” Brian asked again. Brian became a doctor because he wanted to help people. Phil had become a doctor because everyone he cared about needed him to become a doctor. Phil had alternately complained and been incredibly humbled by his near-hero status at home.

“They’ll make do,” Sarai replied to his question. “Brian, I know you’re used to the way things are in the States, doctors on every street corner. It’s just not that way over here, and everyone’s used to it. They’ll travel to another village or city that does have a doctor, when they need one. They’ll make use of the nurses, and the other kinds of healers that Western medicine doesn’t recognize as readily. They’ll do what they did all those years that Phil was at school with us.”

“It’s not right.”

“What’s not right? That Phil died?”

“That Phil died, that that whole region will be without a doctor for years to come, probably, while we have one ‘on every street corner’, as you said.”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, Brian. It’s not fair, but it’s life. What would you do? Give up your practice, your family, your girlfriend, and take his place? You have patients that need you, too.”

“Not like his did, and you know it.”

“Perhaps not, but, I repeat, Brian, what are you going to do? I know you’re a fixer, but you can’t fix this. It’s bigger than us, bigger than just Phil.”

“I know,” Brian said. But the question hung in his mind. What would you do? Give up your practice, your family, your girlfriend, and take his place?

🔍

Brian sank down on the bed, looking dully at the spots forming on his slacks. He reached out to touch one. Wet. Realizing the likely source, Brian brushed a hand across his face and found it just as wet.

He pushed to his feet, thinking—as he had his whole life—that Moms could make everything better.

He made it to the kitchen, half-blind with tears he couldn’t stop, before he remembered his parents had gone out on a date. He sank into a chair in the kitchen. He needed someone to help make things okay again.

His hands dropped to his lap in defeat. He felt a bump, and reached in his pocket for the object—the Honey bee wooden heart he’d bought himself in Australia. The words he’d said to the crafter who had sold it to him flashed through his thoughts. Every so often, I’ll remember to remember.

Brian got back up, clutching the wooden heart in one hand. He went to the phone on the wall and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Hi, Brian!” Honey greeted him, her voice warm.

“Honey, hi. Um, I know it’s late and we didn’t have plans tonight, but can you come down here, please?” He begged.

“Of course I can,” she agreed. “On my way. You sound like you’re crying, Bri. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Phil.”

“You finally heard from him?”

Brian shook his head, forgetting she couldn’t see it. He choked out, “He’s dead. Oh, Honey, he’s dead and I just… I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“No, of course not. No one should be alone with news like that. Is the kitchen door unlocked?”

“I’ll check,” Brian said, a little watery, but it gave him something to do.

Honey was just stepping up onto the porch when he got to the back door. Brian pushed it open, only barely letting her get inside before he wrapped her up in his arms.

Honey hugged him back just as tightly, making soothing sounds. Little Ms. Tactful is all well and good, she thought, but I still have no idea what one says in this situation.

🔍

Brian’s hands were doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing—outlining posters for the fundraiser the Bob-Whites were running in conjunction with the Sleepyside florist to benefit earthquake and tsunami recovery in southeast Asia. This had been his job ever since the Bob-Whites had begun running fundraisers. He was hardly the only Bob-White with steady hands and neat penmanship, but he was always the one assigned to this task. Jim could do it as well as Brian could, but Jim was a perfectionist, and it was never perfect, which frustrated him. Honey’s penmanship was far better than Brian’s, but she could never get the spacing right; she always ended up with either a gap at the bottom or ran out of room and had to cram things in. So, he outlined the posters. Di would paint them, with help from Honey. Mart and Dan would sell the Mother’s Day bouquets. Mart was a surprisingly effective salesman, perhaps because of his way with words. Dan relied on his undeniable charm, and was, perhaps, even more effective. Trixie would power the whole endeavor with unfailing energy and enthusiasm. Jim would direct their efforts and keep them all on track. The fundraiser would go off successfully and would doubtless raise plenty of money, especially after the Sleepyside Sun had reported that, while the disaster had happened half a world away, it was at the same time much closer to home than the usual international crisis.

The problem was that it was an entirely typical Bob-White fundraiser, an entirely typical Bob-White response to a tragedy. The problem was that there was nothing entirely typical about this situation for Brian, which was probably why, while his hands were obediently doing the work, his mind was in very disobedient turmoil.

Sarai’s words repeated over and over in his mind like a mantra.

I know you’re a fixer, but you can’t fix this. It’s bigger than us, bigger than just Phil.

If he believed her, or could make himself believe her words, he could convince himself that everything he had felt and thought since that call was simple grief, intense in the moment of experience, but, soon enough, it would dissipate, allowing him to resume his normal life, if only changed by the loss of his friend. But he didn’t believe her, didn’t believe it was hopeless. He’d never before considered himself an optimist, but he did believe that there was always a way to fix anything, if enough people were dedicated enough to the solution. The problem here was that he didn’t know what the solution was.

Or perhaps, the real problem was that he did know the solution and was rebelling against it. He wanted to deny it, had tried to tell himself that it was all just grief, but as each hour and day went on, he began to believe it was fate pulling him down this alternate path.

The problem with this fate wasn’t the outcome. He had no doubt that he’d be one of those who would come to say “with a sigh / Somewhere ages and ages hence: / Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.” That wasn’t the part that worried him. The worry was what would happen along the road. He could lose his job over this. He could lose Honey over this. Honestly, he deserved to lose Honey over this, and all that had occurred between them prior to this point of divergence. He would, without a doubt, lose all the comfort and security of diligently following The Plan. His friends had teasingly tagged him “Boring Brian,” but most days he really didn’t mind that as much as they probably thought he should. Boring was predictable. Boring was safe. He knew what was coming next with boring. This path was altogether uncertain.

Uncertain. Uncomfortable. Unpredictable. In all likelihood, downright impossible. And still, unavoidable.

He wasn’t delusional, or so deeply in denial, that he would try to claim it wasn’t at least partially grief. But he was also clear that it wasn’t all grief. Some of it was laced with feelings of urgency and necessity that didn’t belong in any model of grief. One of his best friends during his schooling was dead. A friend with a dream as bold and life-altering—for a very many lives, at that—as his best friend Jim Frayne’s dream for a school for boys who had no other options. Brian would do anything he could to see Jim’s dream succeed in reality. He hadn’t thought there was anything he could do to see Phil’s dream become a successful reality that Phil wasn’t already doing. But that was before the earthquake and its subsequent tsunami had destroyed the start Phil had made turning his dream into reality. That was before the earthquake and its subsequent tsunami had taken Phil’s life out of this reality.

Now there was something he could do to help this dream become a reality, stay a reality. If Phil had to die, his dream, at least, needed to survive. Whatever it took. It would take more than Brian should want to give, under normal circumstances. Of course, this wasn’t normal circumstances.

🔍

Brian closed his laptop. He needed to stop this, this insanity. There was no other way to describe looking up information on the laws concerning an American doctor practicing in Myanmar, both in the immediate aftermath of the disaster and potentially longer. At least I learned from Australia and didn’t just show up, right?

He shook his head. The situation on the tour bus when he and Honey visited Australia was entirely different. He’d been in the right place at the right time. In this case, he was contemplating something entirely less reasonable. Talking with his—and Phil’s—other classmates, talking with a medical student who had planned to partner with Phil to keep the clinic running, that was all grief. And they’d all decided they were too busy, and too scattered around the globe, to gather for a memorial. They’d all agreed to do something at the class reunion.

So why was Brian contemplating travelling more than halfway around the world to do something crazy? Scratch that, to try to do something crazy, and probably fail? Why was he letting himself get lost in the rabbit hole of researching what it would take to do it?

🔍

Dr. Ferris came in to the practice’s consult room / office as Brian was staring off into space instead of finishing up his notes on his last patient. “Thinking about your colleague?” The older doctor asked gently.

Brian nodded, flushing slightly at being caught not focusing on his job.

“Brian, just because we’re doctors doesn’t mean we aren’t still human. If you need time to go to the memorial, or just time, that’s reasonable.”

“If I took time off over Phil, it would be longer than that.”

Dr. Ferris sat down. “What are you asking for?”

“I’m not really. I just wish things were different. That clinic Phil was setting up? It’s a game changer for that region. I hate that it’s been wiped out by such a casual stroke of bad luck. I wish I could go there and make it all work out the way it’s supposed to, even if Phil had to die.”

“What’s stopping you?” Dr. Ferris asked casually, as if this wasn’t the craziest thing Brian had ever said in his whole life.

“Only everything?” Brian suggested. “I don’t speak the language. I don’t actually know anyone or have contact information for anyone over there, now that Phil’s gone. I have a job here, and you’re planning to retire soon, something you’ve more than earned after a lifetime of taking care of Sleepyside. I have a family, and a girlfriend who I nearly lost to not being attentive, not being there enough.”

“Languages can be learned, contacts made. Retirement put off, if the cause is worth it. You have a family that loves you, and girlfriend who has the sort of compassion I wish we saw more of in the world. The same kind of compassion that’s making you want to fix what goes wrong in the world, in any way you can.”

Brian shook his head. “It’d be at least a year. Probably two.”

“Sleepyside will still be here,” Dr. Ferris said, unpersuaded.

“You’re supposed to talk me off this ledge, not encourage me in this insanity.”

“You know, it’s said insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. With certainty, this would not be you doing the same thing. Brian, a mentor’s job is to encourage you to become all you can, not to hold you back. Besides, I’ve seen the restlessness in you that you try to ignore. Maybe this is just fate, just the nudge you need to take a bold step that will lead you on a path that settles that restlessness and helps you grow.”

“But Honey, and you, and our patients…” Brian protested.

“I can’t speak for Honey. You don’t want to hear me saying it, but I’m telling you that I’m okay, if this is something you need to do. I’m also telling you our patients will survive two more years with me before you fully take over the practice.”

“I daresay a few will prefer it,” Brian admitted ruefully. There were at least a couple of Sleepyside residents who weren’t so sure about trusting their health and wellbeing to someone they had memories of seeing in diapers.

Dr. Ferris chuckled. “They’ll get over it, Brian, as you show you are a competent professional. It’s a small town; everyone knows everything about everyone anyway, so the reservations most have with sharing medical details with someone they know is a little different, as you’ll find, whenever you take over the practice, whether that’s this summer or years from now.”

As Dr. Belden headed to his next patient, Dr. Ferris wondered if Brian knew he’d ordered not just an arrangement of flowers for his wife, and mother of his children, from the Bob-Whites’ current fundraiser, but also two potted arrangements for the office. Brian also didn’t need to know that Dr. Ferris had made the decision to generously support the fundraiser after he’d already donated to his favorite charity, which offered medical response to natural disasters. If Brian really did follow that voice in the back of his head demanding he go do something in the face of this tragedy, Dr. Ferris fully intended to send him as well-stocked as TSA and Myanmar customs would allow, even if he had to fund that out of his own pocket. What Brian hadn’t realized yet was that Dr. Ferris was unlikely to be the only one who felt that way.

Brian was beloved by everyone in his community, even those who were still wrapping their minds around sharing the most private details of their medical records with someone they’d known since his first cries. If he went, he would go with the support of all of Sleepyside.

🔍

Brian knew Jim’s math was sound. It wasn’t like it was Trixie reporting the number. And the florist had seconded the numbers, their books matching the Bob-Whites’. The numbers were right. Still, Brian couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure you didn’t carry something wrong? It’s still a month to Mother’s Day.”

“It’s a good cause,” Di pointed out.

“And I’m a great salesman, if I do say so myself,” Dan reported.

Mart snorted. “It’s not like the Sun donating a weekly Sunday ad to the campaign has anything to do with it. It’s all your charm, I’m sure.”

“Brian, people know this is important to you. A full third of this total is either people who have not historically ordered Mother’s Day flowers, or who donated beyond the cost of their arrangement,” Honey told him. “This fundraiser is going to be a big one. I know usually people order a lot closer to the holiday, so we might be able to expect even more coming in over the next month, but things might also slow down a bit as the news cycle moves on beyond the disaster coverage. It’s hard to know how it’ll go.”

“This is already so much more than I expected. Thank you, all of you, for taking on my cause.”

Trixie laughed. “Because it’s such an unworthy cause. Because you’ve never thrown yourself behind our causes.”

“Neither of those things mean I don’t appreciate it,” Brian pointed out.

“Gratitude accepted,” Di assured him. “But we should probably recruit the twinnies, and maybe the BLT, if they’ll be home in time, to help with the flower deliveries. We weren’t planning on quite this many deliveries.”

“I’ll ask Bobby when I call him tomorrow,” Trixie offered.

“Let me know if I need to call Larry and Terry, or if Bobby’s recruiting them for us. Mart and I’ll recruit the twinnies tonight at dinner. My family’s coming over.”

Trixie shook her head. “Girl, second trimester is the perfect excuse to stop hosting. I would so take advantage!”

Di chuckled, rubbing her stomach gently to soothe the baby, who seemed to know when it was the topic of conversation. “That’s because you hate hosting, even before you’re pregnant. I, on the other hand, like hosting, and I still mostly can, at least when it’s a small group. It makes me feel good, instead of just feeling fat and heavy and useless.”

“You aren’t any of those things,” all of the Bob-Whites protested.

Di laughed easily. “Tell that to my hormones. And please, remind me daily this summer. I hear rumor this—” Di’s hands mapped her baby bump. “—gets worse before it gets better.”

Mart kissed her cheek. “You’re growing our baby in there. Nothing useless about that!”

🔍

Brian ambled along one of the trails in the Preserve, deep in thought. He and Moms had a nice talk Saturday morning – which was somehow becoming a routine, a little tradition of theirs, now that all of the other kids were out of the house. The conversation had been mostly about his relationship with Trixie and whether he’d ever get back what he thought they’d once had, before he ruined it by reacting poorly to the portions of her return to Sleepyside that hadn’t been exactly what he’d planned for. Moms had said some things about Trixie needing to get out of Sleepyside when she went to college, needing to get away, and stretch her wings, if only to know what she was coming back to when she finally did come home to roost.

Moms had been talking about Trixie (at least Brian was pretty sure that Moms had no ulterior motive in her observations), but it rang true to Brian on the same level as the crazy plan that had begun to settle into his mind as a matter of fate. Dr. Ferris was the only person Brian had really articulated the plan to, and he’d all but shoved Brian out the door, telling him to do it. Sarai’s words, ones he just couldn’t bring himself to believe, that there was nothing he could do to fix this tragedy also seemed to be propelling him along. Moms’ words certainly weren’t an admonition to stay home and do the safe thing, if his soul was calling him away.

If no one in Sleepyside was going to talk him off this ledge, then the only argument that Brian thought stood a chance of convincing him would be a futility argument, which meant it was time to call the one person who could tell him that even if this wild notion could actually be implemented, it still wouldn’t result in Phil’s dream of a rural medical clinic for his community surviving his passing. If she told him his plan stood a chance of working, he had no idea what he was going to do. (He really had to stop lying to himself. If she said yes, he knew exactly what he was going to do.)

🔍

“Hello?” Brian heard that little nervous uncertainty that came into the voice of every cell phone user who had grown accustomed to knowing who was on the other end of a call before answering the call when they picked up a call from an unknown number.

“Hi, Tanner. It’s Brian.”

“Doc Belden, right?” She clarified.

“That’s me, I guess,” Brian said, not sure if he should just dive right in to why he’d called.

“You were part of Phil’s cohort. He used to talk about all of you all the time. How are you holding up?”

Brian sighed. “I honestly don’t know. But I should be asking you.”

Tanner chuckled. “Phil convinced me it was okay to have bigger dreams than I thought I was allowed to have. And then he encouraged me—no, that’s too mild. He shoved me, full force—after them. So here I am, halfway through medical school on a path to become a doctor to partner with the one doctor in the entire country I come from who was okay with the idea of a woman going after anything more than a nursing degree. And now said doctor, said partner, said practice, that would’ve had me are all gone, washed away in a morning. And I’m not sure what that means for me. Was this really Phil’s plan, and without him, I go back to the original plan, drop out, go home, get my nursing license, and help people in the way my culture expects me to? Or has this become my plan, my path, too, so I keep with it and try to dig my dreams out of the rubble, because whether they expect it or not, my people need me to stick with this?”

“That’s sort of why I’m calling. Phil’s dream, to create that clinic and provide medical care for that part of your country, it was a big dream, and important. More than just a job. And it shouldn’t die with him; that wouldn’t be fair.”

“Nothing about Phil’s death was fair.”

Brian nodded even though Tanner couldn’t see it. “Sarai tried to tell me I can’t fix this. That it’s bigger than me, than us. But this crazy notion won’t leave me alone.”

“What crazy notion?”

“That I could rebuild that clinic in the time between now and when you finish your studies. And if I did that, you could keep it going from there. But that assumes so many things, first and foremost that you want to run it without Phil. It never occurred to me that you’d quit, but I guess the second thing would be that you actually are going to finish your studies. I can see—” God help me, but I can see it. “—going over there for a year or two to do this thing, to honor Phil’s memory. My life will be waiting when I get back here. I can’t see giving up everything I have here forever, though, so if there’s no plan to keep this thing going, and this is all just a futile effort to keep alive some ember of the fire that was Phil, tell me, and I’ll find a way to let him go. Please, my life will be so much easier, if you tell me this is just grief and not actually feasible.”

“Feasibility is a real question, Brian. Not for the handoff. If I thought the clinic was going to be there waiting for me, like it is supposed to be, yes, I’d finish my studies, and I’d want to go home and do that, just like Phil and I planned. But your piece of the puzzle? You don’t know anyone in Myanmar. You don’t know Burmese. You don’t have a medical license there. You don’t—”

“But I could. All of those things are fixable. Right?”

“I mean, with enough effort, I suppose…” She replied dubiously.

“I’m willing, Tanner, so tell me no.”

“You really are crazy,” she said instead. After a pause, “I’m not telling you no.”

🔍

The next challenge to Brian’s plan was convincing Sarai to help him. Sarai who had already told him the situation was hopeless and there was nothing they could do to fix it. He also didn’t have forever to convince her, so wearing her down with sheer persistence wasn’t an option. He wasn’t exactly an expert negotiator, but he was going to have to give it his best and fastest shot.

“Good morning, Brian,” Sarai answered her phone cheerfully enough.

Brian chuckled. “You know it’s after sunset here, and I just worked a double, covering for some doctors in New York City down with a late spring flu, right?”

“I didn’t but it’s a bright sunny morning here and I’m looking forward to it, so your sleepy gloom will just have to be smothered by my sunny optimism.”

“Optimism is what I’m calling you for.”

“And my optimism has suddenly turned to quaking fear,” Sarai said drily.

“The last time we spoke, you said I couldn’t fix what happened to Phil. That it was bigger than just Phil. You were right. It’s bigger than Phil. His dream was too important to die with him. We both know that.”

“You still can’t fix it.”

“Not alone.”

“Brian, what insanity has grief made you consider rational?”

“I was hoping you’d ask. Tanner can keep the clinic going without Phil. She lacks confidence, not ability. What she can’t do is rebuild the clinic all by herself. What I can do is oversee the rebuilding.”

“From Sleepyside?”

“That hardly seems likely to prove successful.”

“You’re going to move to Whette?” Sarai asked, incredulous.

“Temporarily. Tanner has two semesters left. If I spend those two semesters digging Phil’s dreams out of the rubble and grave his body failed in, she can take it from there and I can return here, to my family, friends, girlfriend, practice, and patients who need me, and the patients who need Phil will not be failed by the randomness of circumstance, chance, and poor luck.”

“You’re going to move to Whette,” Sarai repeated, no less incredulous. “You’ve learned Burmese in the past two months, then?”

“No, but you know it.”

“Oh, no, absolutely not. You are not dragging me into your insanity. Don’t think it for a moment more!”

“Tell me, with a level voice, that you’re okay with knowing there’s a possibility of keeping Phil’s dream from dying with him, but that that possibility could not be brought to fruition because you refused to help, and I will hang up now and never mention it again.”

Sarai was silent for a full minute. “I’m listening,” she said at last.

Brian smiled at the small victory. “As you pointed out, I don’t know Burmese. I’ll learn it, but not immediately. If you were willing to join me, just for the first couple weeks…”

“You’re going to guilt me into this, aren’t you?”

“I was rather counting on grief compelling you as strongly as it does me,” Brian admitted.

“Give me a week to investigate the possibilities. In the meantime, don’t forget that you’re still absolutely crazy to even be considering this.”

“Understood. Sarai? Thanks.”

“I’m not committing to anything, Brian.”

“But you’re considering, which means plenty to me. We’ll talk when you’ve come to a decision.”

“I’ll call you,” Sarai agreed.

🔍

FROM: Trixie
TO: Mart, Brian, Dan, Di
CC: Bobby, Jim, Honey
RE: Mother’s Day / Moms
Hi Moms’ kids,
Jim and I were talking about how we all want to generously support the fundraiser with more than just our administrative assistance to the project. I also know we all love Moms and want to celebrate Mother’s Day with her, just as enthusiastically. But, realistically, Moms has her own flowers and Crabapple Farm only has so many flat surfaces. So, Jim and I were talking about this conundrum and he had an idea that made sense to me. Instead of each of us getting Moms separate arrangements, we could pool together, and get one big arrangement, and a gift certificate for gardening supplies, and whatever’s left over as a donation in her honor.
Honey, (and Brian, if you feel it’s appropriate), Jim and I would be willing to take a similar approach on Mother’s Day flowers for Madeline, though we also considered the reality that there is plenty of space at Manor House for as many arrangements as your mother might receive.
Just let me know what everyone’s thinking in the next few days, so Jim and I can put our order in, whether we’re doing so just as a couple or as a group.
Thanks,
Trixie

🔍

“Honey, do you have a couple minutes to go for a walk with me, up to the bluffs?” Brian asked nervously. She was the question mark in his plan. God as his witness, he did not want to lose her, and he knew the distance had worn on her when he was in school. He knew she thought he took her for granted, that she wasn’t the most important thing in his life, because he never had the time for her that she deserved. They were finally mending their relationship, knitting the broken places together stronger than ever. He was crazy to yank on a loose thread and expect the whole thing not to come undone – it was all much too fragile at this point.

But the question still echoed in his heart. What would you do? You can’t fix this; it’s bigger than us, bigger than just Phil.

Honey smiled cheerfully up at him from amid her notes for the fundraiser she’d begun putting together the second he’d realized he knew someone affected by the disaster. “A couple,” she said.

“Go,” Di told her from where she was painting a sign. “We’ve got things covered here.”

Once they were out of hearing of the fundraiser preparations, Honey looked up at Brian, studying him carefully. “Are you okay? I know Phil’s death has weighed heavily on you.”

“I’m okay,” Brian assured her. “I keep thinking about who he was—how important his village was to him, how he hated the celebrity status – the hero status – he had for being the only doctor, but how seriously he took the responsibility. And I think about what Sarai asked me when she called me with the news. ‘What would you do? Take his place?’ I can’t do that. Sarai’s right. My whole life is here, in Sleepyside.

“I’m in love with the most amazing woman in the world, who has stuck by me through thick and thin, through being relegated to the back burner and stood up for this emergency or that one. It is unfair of me to even consider asking you to wait any longer for me to get my act together and show you just how serious I am and how much you mean to me.

“My family is here, and they mean the world to me. I need to be here with them, for them. My practice is here. Dr. Ferris has cared for Sleepyside’s residents for decades. He’s earned his rest. The community depends on the care they receive at his practice—at what he intends to become my practice. I’m needed here.”

Brian paused and tears stung his eyes as he remembered Phil talking about what his return would mean for his village as they’d all prepared for graduation. “But there were people Phil loved, too. He had a family, a practice, a community that depended on him, too.”

“It sounds like you two were very similar; it’s probably why you got along so well.”

Brian nodded. “It’s meant so much to me—more than I can express—that I didn’t have to say a word—you started planning this fundraiser the minute you knew it was Phil’s village that got hit. The money we raise this weekend will pay for the building materials and the labor to rebuild the facility that was destroyed. But, without a doctor, what are they rebuilding it for?”

“For the next Phil, and the next,” Honey answered.

“The next ‘Phil’ is a Tanner. She’s got two more semesters after this one. She’s at Johns Hopkins University, and she’s from a town about 15 miles southwest of Phil’s village. She was going to be his partner. I called her last week, to tell her about the fundraiser and to see what her plans were and how she was, and how things were in her town.”

“And?” Honey asked when he didn’t continue.

“Her town is fine. They’re inland from Phil’s village. She said they felt the quake, but no major damage. She is, of course, grieving. She knew Phil well. They did their undergraduate studies together. She went back over there, planning to get a nursing license while Phil stayed here and got his M.D. He was the one who convinced her that she’d make just as good a doctor as he would, and she should continue her studies and get the M.D. and then partner with him at the clinic.”

“There’s a ‘but’ in this story, isn’t there?”

Brian nodded again. “She’s not the kind of person who will or can start a project like this on her own. She could keep it going on her own, if the clinic had survived even though Phil didn’t. Had he survived, she would’ve helped him rebuild. But she can’t do all of this on her own.”

“And you want to make this work.” She didn’t wait for Brian’s nod. She knew the answer. “What would it take?” She asked. If their fundraiser wasn’t ambitious enough, they’d plan another, or a bigger one. She’d willingly give from her own money, and her trust fund. This mattered to Brian, so it mattered to her. If money alone wasn’t enough, they’d find a way to do more. Honey had no doubt the Bob-Whites would step up. Brian had always made time for each of their projects, supported causes near and dear to each of them. It was only fair they’d step up just as much for his cause.

“At least a year, maybe two,” Brian answered.

“A year or two of what?” Honey asked, not understanding.

“Of me, there,” Brian answered.

“You,” Honey said, startled.

“If the clinic is up and running when Tanner graduates next spring, she can take it from there. Sarai can take up to three months leave to help me with the language and cultural barriers. Dr. Ferris is okay with postponing his retirement a year or a year and a half. Jim said the Academy was doing okay with just the nurse on staff. My family, of course, says, if it’s what I want to do, they’ll support me.”

“Apparently you’ve been busy. And you didn’t talk to me about it first,” Honey observed, hurt.

“I needed to know if I could even do it, legally or practically. I can. And no one else would say no that I’d actually care about. The Bob-Whites and my family were always going to be supportive. If Dr. Ferris wasn’t, so what? I could get a job at any of the hospitals in New York City, if I just asked. But you? You’ll be supportive, I know. You always are. But it’s not fair to you. I told you I’d be able to put you first when the residency was over. And now, here I am, putting something else ahead of us. Please, Honey, be honest. If I need to stay here for you, for us, say so. This is important to me, but I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you.”

Honey closed her eyes, trying to sort through everything she felt in order to respond to Brian. “Brian, I love you. You know that. I’m hurt that you didn’t come to me first. Couldn’t you have talked to me and said, ‘I know this seems crazy and I don’t even know if it’s feasible yet, but I need to look into this, for Phil’?”

“I could have, I guess. I probably should have. I just… Honestly, Honey, I feel so guilty for even considering it. I’ve asked you to wait for me for so long. How much longer can I expect you to wait on me?”

“I don’t know,” Honey replied. “I do know we have to communicate, if we’re going to make this work. We have to tell each other about things that affect us both—before we’re committed.”

“I’m not committed, yet, Honey. I don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, you do, and we both know it,” Honey replied. “Listen to yourself, the passion! Brian, that deep compassion, the fixer in you, the loyalty—all of the characteristics that drive you to feel you need to go over there are the same characteristics that made me fall in love with you. I wouldn’t change you and I won’t hold you back. We both know this is the right thing for you right now. Go, with my love.”

🔍

In years past, most of the Mother’s Day arrangements were picked up by the purchasers on Friday or Saturday, leaving only a small number to be delivered on Sunday. As a result, the florist didn’t have great routes already mapped out for this year, when nearly every home in Sleepyside would be receiving at least one arrangement, all delivered, as part of the fundraiser.

Brian and Dan retreated to the clubhouse with a map and notebooks to try to figure out the most efficient way to deliver all the flowers. The weather was expected to bright, clear, and comfortable, which meant they could utilize cars and bicycles and put all of the Bob-Whites, the BLT, Diana’s sisters, and the florist’s employees to use for the deliveries, if only they could plan out the deliveries in a sensible fashion.

Brian wasn’t sure what brought Mart by the clubhouse that evening, but, once the challenge was explained to him, he stayed and was incredibly helpful. Brian hadn’t considered that the Sleepyside Sun had to distribute papers to every residence in Sleepyside in a very short period of time between when printing finished for the night and when residents were beginning to wake up and expect their paper to be on the doorstep.

They worked out routes that alternated short, bunched deliveries, with longer runs to the more distant houses, so the bikers didn’t get too worn out with the long rides. The florist employees would keep the undelivered flowers in the vans, staged at various points around town, and the bikers would go out from those points in pairs. If they were able to stick to the schedule, all of the flowers would be delivered in about four hours, and everyone would end up at Wimpy’s for lunch.

🔍

Dan smiled appreciatively at the florist’s delivery driver who had just handed him a cold bottle of water. Honey and Brian rode up as Bobby gulped from his own water bottle. Trixie and Jim arrived a few minutes later. Jim pulled out the piece of notebook paper with their route from his pocket and checked off the deliveries they’d made before checking his watch. “Good, we’re still on track time-wise.”

“How?” Honey demanded. “Mrs. Vanderpoel insisted we come in and have a muffin and some juice. Fresh baked, of course.”

“Us, too. Mr. M made donuts,” Trixie reported.

“I thought I smelled them this morning,” Dan admitted.

“Yeah, but shouldn’t we all be late then?” Honey repeated.

Dan smiled. “Someone insisted on accounting for delays beyond the time it would reasonably take to deliver an arrangement of flowers to certain residences.”

Bobby laughed. “Bri, you actually planned for Mrs. V and Mr. M to ply your delivery bikers with food?”

“I planned for everything we could reasonably expect, of course,” Brian replied. “It doesn’t take a prophet to foresee those two plying us with baked goods. And we planned in a little bit of slack in the timeline anyway, figuring delays would come up inevitably, especially as it gets later and we get tired.”

“Smart thinking,” Jim said. The others drifted away, gathering a fresh set of deliveries into the bikes’ baskets. “You know it will take a prophet to see what’s coming in the next couple of years, right?”

“You think I’m crazy to go over there and rebuild Phil’s clinic.”

“Probably the same sort of crazy as an abused orphan who wants to build a school for other abused orphans. I know why you want to do it. I think it’s amazingly generous of you. It’ll be a life-changing experience, for sure. I just wonder if you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Did you?” Brian asked.

“Fair point. Look, I’m not even trying to talk you out of it. Just…we’re here for you, you know? Anything you need, anytime you need it. We may be halfway around the world, but we’re still Bob-Whites. We’re there for each other, no matter what.”

“I won’t forget,” Brian promised.

“You better not. I’d hate to lose my best friend,” Jim said seriously, and then, teasingly, “or, worse, have to leave Mart in charge of the Academy while I trek halfway around the world to talk sense into said best friend.”

“I promise, Jim. I’ll be okay. I’ll say in touch as much as I can. And I’ll know you’re all the force behind me. And then, I will come home. That’s a promise, too. Make sure Honey doesn’t forget that part, will you? I don’t deserve her, but I love her.”

Jim smiled. “She knows. Whatever happened when you two went to Australia, she knows. I know you know, but she loves you, too.”

“I don’t deserve her,” Brian repeated.

“We never deserve them, Bri.”

🔍

When all of the arrangements were delivered, the florist delivery drivers, the Bob-Whites, the BLT, and Diana’s sisters all ended up at Wimpy’s for some well-earned sustenance.

Once everyone was slurping down shakes and they were waiting for their food to be prepared, the florist turned to Brian. “While we were waiting between deliveries, we ran the numbers and cross-checked each other. The total raised, after our cost, is $5,637.29.”

Trixie beamed at her brother. “I think that’s a new record for a Bob-White fundraiser, Bri. Good work.” She turned to the rest of the table. “All of us.”

“And thank you, all of you,” Brian added. “I know this was kind of my project from the start.”

“We’ve all had our projects over the years,” Diana pointed out. “We didn’t do anything you haven’t done.” She smiled at him. “Though, none of us have ever hand-delivered our fundraising efforts halfway around the world.”

“I know, I know. Sarai keeps telling me I’m crazy. Tanner wants to, but she also wants me to do the thing, so she’s trying not to say it. I get that you’re all thinking it, too, but I appreciate that you’re all supporting me anyway.”

“Of course we are, Brian,” Dan agreed. “It’s you, and a really good cause, to boot. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

“Jim told me the same thing earlier.”

“Well, good. Then you know now that whatever he said stands from all of us,” Mart agreed. “As co-President of the Bob-Whites, he’s allowed to do things like that, and speak for all of us.”

Jim laughed and looked at Trixie. “Did you know that? Did I know that?”

She kissed him. “Perks of the job, apparently. I guess they didn’t want us to get any ideas when we were younger.”

Bobby smirked at his older sister. “They didn’t want you to get any ideas, back when you were in your impulsive phase.”

“She outgrew the impulsive phase?” Dan asked.

Trixie stuck her tongue out at all of them.

“Admit it,” Honey teased, “you just wanted to travel further for the job than Trixie did.”

“Ah, yes,” Brian agreed, “I’m certainly the world traveler. Brian ‘Jet-setter’ Belden.”

“Nah,” Mart replied, “It’s the frequent flier miles. After you took Honey to Australia, you realized flying is expensive, so you needed a plan to finance future trips with Honey, who grew up with a private jet.”

Honey snorted out a laugh. “That’s actually plausible, knowing Bri’s preference for having a plan.”