What We Find

by Robyn Carr

  “Dying?” he asked.

  “I thought about dying. No particular way, no particular age, just random lights-out. And I thought about being so alone. It was the last straw. It might’ve been the fact that all those combined stresses made me feel pretty unloved. Know what I mean? So I ran home to Sully and he surprised me with a heart attack.”

  Cal found it interesting that the fear of death threw her into a panic. For him it was the fear of living.

  “Are you over that now?”

  “Oh yes, completely. I shot at Dumb and Dumber, didn’t I? Even though it crossed my mind I could be in real trouble. I just have steps to take before I move on in my life. Step one—get beyond this suit. Then I have to figure out if I can ever make those life-or-death decisions again. Simple, no?”

  “Lawsuits can take years,” he said.

  “We’re having a preliminary hearing in a week. The judge is going to hear the lawyers, has all the pretrial motions, will get a list of evidence and witnesses from both, they’ll decide on judge or jury resolution, mediation might be suggested, but doubtful... It is my dream that the judge looks at the lawsuit and says, Get outta here.”

  “My dream, too,” he agreed. “I can go with you,” he said. “I can find a suit to wear.”

  “Thanks, but I want to go alone. I’m going to stay over, go visit Phoebe and Walter on my way home.”

  “If you change your mind at the last minute, I have a white shirt and a pair of dress pants...”

  She was still leaning against him, not looking at him. “I’d like to ask you a personal question. If you can’t talk about it just say so and I’ll ask again later. How did you meet your wife?”

  He chuckled softly. “I saw her sitting in a coffee shop, studying. She was so pretty. She looked so intense. She’d get a line between her eyebrows when she concentrated. I approached her and said, Excuse me, can I buy you a cup of coffee? And she said, As you can see, I have coffee. And I’m too busy to be picked up.”

  “She was onto you...”

  “Oh, from the start. So I waited outside for her to come out. I waited forever. She finally came out and I asked her if she had time to be picked up now. She laughed at me and said that as a matter of fact she hadn’t been picked up in a while, so what the hell. We went back into the coffee shop, had more coffee and I asked her a million questions. She said she felt like she was being grilled and asked me if I’d been stalking her. I could tell she didn’t believe that I’d just seen her for the first time. Against her better judgment she agreed to meet me again, same place. I was an hour late for work, that’s how gone I was. I didn’t think she’d keep our date so I went to the coffee shop two hours early—I figured I’d catch her escaping. But she was already there, eating a muffin, drinking coffee, book open. So I went right to her and said hi. And she said, You’re two hours early and I’m busy. Go walk around or accost some other girl until it’s time. And I did.”

  “Oh, I like her,” Maggie said.

  “Yeah, she was fierce. And soft—she was so soft. She was a law student and she could be so powerful. I loved watching her.”

  “You fell in love with her instantly.”

  “I think so, yes,” he said. “But in the end, she asked me to marry her. I mark that as one of the great victories of my life.”

  “Was it good, then? Being married?” she asked.

  “I liked marriage. At first we were so busy trying to settle into our lives it was insane. We both had to pass the bar, get on our career track, find the work-life balance so we could actually be a couple. It wasn’t simple but it was still fun. We took different paths—I wanted the big, powerful firm, she wanted the small legal clinic. We both chose right. We were happy.”

  “I’m sorry, Cal. Sorry you didn’t have a fifty-year marriage.”

  “I have no regrets, that’s the only important thing now. Right?”

  “You’ll never get over her,” she said.

  “I’m not supposed to get over her, Maggie. I’m supposed to treasure what was good and move on. That’s a tall enough order.” He took a breath, doubting his own wisdom, yet knowing what he had to do. “There’s one more thing. It’ll be obvious to you why I’ve never talked about it before, why it’s a closely guarded piece of information. It’s hard to tell you, of all people. You might find it unforgivable, dedicated as you are to saving lives. See, I made the ultimate commitment to my wife. She was dying of a painful disease. She asked me to give my word I wouldn’t let her suffer, to promise that I would help her let go. She asked me to help her die. And I did.”

  Time stood still. Not even the water moved. It was actual minutes before Maggie moved, turning around in the little boat and kneeling to face him. She had tears on her cheeks. She put the palms of her hands against his cheeks. “Of course you did,” she whispered. “Of course.”

  * * *

  One way to move on, Cal discovered, was to have a heart-to-heart talk about both personal and professional things, leaving nothing unsaid. He unburdened all of it. And then they made out like long-lost lovers reunited for an hour or so, rocking the little boat until they were wet and laughing. When they got to the point where they either had to try to find a way to make love or at least get satisfied somehow, they gave it up. Cal took her back to the dock at the crossing and motored across the lake to return the boat. Although he told her he’d be happy with a long walk home, she drove over to the camp and picked him up.

  They didn’t have any more of those serious, deep conversations again, at least through the following week. In fact, Maggie grew very quiet. Cal suspected she was worried about the hearing.

  There were questions he could taste on her tongue that she didn’t ask and it could only be because she was afraid of the answers. Questions like, Can you ever love like that again? And How long will you stay here? And How do I fit into your life, your plans?

  He hoped that was what was causing her silence and not anything else. He did have some answers stowed away in the privacy of his heart. Yes, I can love again but like that? Maybe it will be a different kind of love but equal. And he wanted to stay there as long as staying there worked for everyone, including Maggie. And how did Maggie fit? He wasn’t sure, except that he couldn’t imagine letting her go. The caveat was—could she truly accept him as he was? Because he already knew he wouldn’t be going back to that other life, a partner in a big firm in a big city.

  He had no regrets about leaving all that, either.

  It was almost the middle of July when Maggie’s court date came around. Cal was sitting out on the porch of the store in the morning having coffee with Tom Canaday and listening to his tales of the weekend with his family—he had a complicated list of activities from work to chores to commitments the kids had that required juggling schedules and transportation.

  “At least with Jackson and Nikki driving now, I get a little help with chauffeuring,” he said. “Problem is, not enough cars.”

  “How you manage all your jobs and still get those kids to everything they signed on for must take some interesting logistics.”

  “I start with one workable solution—if I’m available to them from four to seven, we can manage almost anything else. They’re old enough to get themselves up in the morning and get their own breakfast—I start my jobs early most days. The bus comes for the younger three, Jackson can drive himself to school and jobs. But from after school through dinner if I’m not around homework doesn’t get done and games, plays, dances, all that goes missed. And that stuff is just about as important if they’re going to be balanced. Right?”

  “I guess,” Cal said.

  Campers were just beginning to come awake. The aroma of coffee and bacon around the campsites filled the air, as did the sounds of people getting ready for a day of fun. A couple of dogs barked.

  “Whoa,” Tom said, looking over at the
house.

  Maggie stepped out onto the porch. She wore a slim-fitting sleeveless black dress, black hose, black pumps. She carried a jacket over one arm and had a briefcase in hand. She’d fussed with her hair, that was obvious. It was smoothly turned under at her collar but still had that life in it, moving with her. She was decked out somberly but classy.

  “Wow,” Tom said again.

  Cal got up and walked over to the house. He’d already kissed her good-morning, once in bed and once when she was in the shower. He’d already told her she’d be great today. He wasn’t about to let her leave for court without another boost to her confidence. He took the steps up to the porch and stood before her.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “This is my funeral suit,” she said. Then she winced.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Terrified, but as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “If you’ve changed your mind I can still go with you. I can be ready in five minutes.”

  She shook her head. “I’m just going to do it.”

  “My phone is charged and I’ll keep it on for you.”

  “You’ve been wonderful,” she said. “In case I didn’t say it or in case I forget to say it, you’ve been so wonderful. Helpful, encouraging, supportive.”

  “How about a dynamic lover who’s taken you to heights never before experienced, taking your mind off your more cerebral legal affairs?” he asked.

  “Satisfactory,” she said. Then she smiled her teasing smile. “Okay, above average.”

  “The way you make me beg, it turns me on,” he said, returning the smile.

  “I’ll call with updates, if there are any. I don’t know the process so if you don’t hear from me as soon as you...”

  “It’s okay, honey. I know the process. And the rule is—unpredictable and leveraged on the mood of the judge and the paperwork involved.”

  “Well, we’re ready. At least that’s what the lawyers say.”

  “It’s going to be okay. Just remember, you did the right thing.”

  “I did my best,” she said. “It’s been good enough so many times...”

  “Maggie, you did the right thing. You’ll do the right thing today. All you have to do is listen and confer with your attorneys. You’re going to be fine. This will soon be behind you.”

  “Only to happen again and again?”

  He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. She couldn’t embrace him, coat in one hand and briefcase in the other. But she certainly gave full attention to his kiss.

  “Did you smear my lipstick?” she asked.

  “No. Now listen to me. Everything is going to happen again and again, Maggie. There will be accidents, there will be lawyers, there will be grieving family members. There will also be magnificent victories and lives saved. And there will be joyous occasions.”

  “I’m remembering that book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People.”

  “Good things also happen to good people. This isn’t the only outcome you’re going to have to live through, you know. Now, are you ready to go? Do you want to tell Sully you’re leaving?”

  “I saw him for a moment before I got in the shower and he wished me luck. Will you tell him I’m on my way, please?”

  “I’ll be glad to.”

  He led her down the porch steps and helped her into her car. When she was getting in he gave her fanny a pat. “Break a leg,” he said. “Call when you can.”

  “Thanks, California. I’ll return the favor if I can.”

  Cal watched her leave and then walked back to the porch where Tom sat, waiting. When Cal sat down with his coffee cup again, he looked at Tom to see wide eyes and lots of teeth.

  “Whoa,” Tom said. “You know what you should do? You should lock that down right away,” he said, giving a nod toward the house, toward Maggie. “Seriously. Right away.”

  Cal laughed. “And what makes you think Maggie’s ready to get locked down?”

  “Are you kidding me? You need my advice? You a novice?”

  “Pretty much. What’s your best advice?”

  “Well, at least you’re an adult. I fell for my girl when I was a kid...”

  Tom launched into the story of his marriage, family and divorce. It was both complicated and predictable. He fell in love at sixteen, knocked up his girlfriend at seventeen, married her, went to work before finishing high school, had four kids. Then the girl grew up and wanted more of a life, but she felt suffocated by a husband and four kids, so...

  Cal was only half listening. He was thinking about how beautiful Maggie looked and how brave she was. Not for facing a lawsuit in court, although that took guts. Every time she clocked in to her role as a neurosurgeon she was facing the unknown and laying her reputation and indeed, her future, on the line. Making those life-and-death decisions in seconds took great skill and incredible confidence. She amazed him.

  Amazing women, it seemed, were his lot in life. For this he pushed aside his trepidation and said a little prayer of thanks. Complaining of finding not only one but two of these remarkable females should not be condoned. Time to give thanks.

  * * *

  As Maggie drove, something Cal had said came slinking into her mind. Good things happen to good people, too.

  Had she been properly mindful of the good things? Every time she held that cranial bone flap in her hand she was performing a small miracle. There were surgeries she’d come to think of as routine and yet she was conscious of the fact that whenever she was near the brain or spinal cord, it was a matter of life and death.

  There were some procedures and surgeries that were more memorable than others. There’d been that inoperable brain tumor in a seven-year-old that Maggie dared to remove. No one would touch that little girl, it was just too complicated and dangerous. And no surgeon liked performing an operation that was 99 percent likely to fail. Yet the child was headed to certain death with a very minimal chance of prolonging her life—and suffering—through radiation and chemotherapy. But Maggie was willing to risk it for the child’s sake. She’d once scrubbed in with a neurosurgeon who had excised a similar lesion. She had a very impressive team backing her up.

  They had several pre-surgical conferences to discuss it before taking it on. There was doubt all around her but it had worked. That little girl not only survived, she was now perfectly healthy. It was a total success. The surgeon who had scrubbed in to assist was an older man and he said, “You have the most beautiful hands I’ve ever encountered.”

  There was a cyclist thrown over the hood of a fast-moving truck, paralyzed from the neck down. Maggie took him into surgery and performed a partial cervical laminectomy and repair and when he woke up he could wiggle his toes. A month later he walked out of the hospital.

  She was not by any means a religious person; she could count on one hand the number of times she’d been inside a church in the past four years. She did have a deep spiritual core and every time she went into the operating room she had a mantra: God, still my hand and clear my head. And when she came out she said, Thank you, God.

  She had always scheduled her surgical cases for Tuesday and Thursday. She saw patients on Monday and Wednesday. She tried to take a couple of three or four-day weekends a month just to fill the well, catch up on her reading, organize her office and her head, but she was on call a couple nights a week. Blessedly she wasn’t always called in to the hospital and the occasions of being called to a major catastrophe like the MVA that had taken the lives of three youths were rare.

  They had tried to prepare her in residency for the toll her specialty would take, yet it was more devastating than she had imagined. She had to fight the disappointment when things went poorly. Sometimes the emotion had driven her to the stairwell. And yet she met each new case with renewed
vigor and enthusiasm—how?

  She hoped the lawyer was going to talk about her good results, for she had them. Fantastic results, really. She was one of the best spinal surgeons in the area; many of her patients who were experiencing chronic pain realized complete relief and full mobility after surgery.

  It was not in her nature to be negative. Why had she failed to remember all the victories?

  Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable.

  Be honest and transparent anyway.

  —Mother Teresa

  Chapter 13

  Maggie had an early lunch with her primary lawyer, Steve Rubin. For once it was just the two of them, not the whole legal team plus a rep from the insurance carrier. They’d be before the judge at one o’clock and he warned her it might be a long afternoon. Both attorneys had already submitted all their paperwork, motions, witness lists, anything pertinent to this hearing. The judge would use all this information to determine the approximate length of the trial.

  “Could the judge just throw it out today?” she asked hopefully.

  “Very unlikely,” he said. “We’ve been in this process for a year and a half and if he were so inclined, that might’ve happened already.”

  “Will you at least be able to bring up my exemplary record as a neurosurgeon?”

  “Not until or if we get to closing arguments. Then, certainly. But I want to stay away from statistics if possible. I have expert testimony ready if necessary, but once we start talking about your saves we open the door to discuss your failures.”

  She grimaced.

  “I’m sorry to put it that way, Maggie. That’s not a very accurate conclusion, it’s just that the numbers in this specialty are bleak. Especially when it comes to emergency neurosurgery.

  “Try very hard not to take this personally,” he said, and then launched into a short speech about motives and strategies and presentation, saying almost the same things Cal had said, that we mustn’t blame the plaintiffs for doing what they have to do. “We might suggest there is no blame here while there is access to considerable financial gain. But we’ll treat that with care—judges and juries don’t like the implication that we intend to hammer the grieving plaintiffs.