NECESSARY MEASURES

by Alexander, Hannah

  “The drugs may have been legal but I’m not convinced that my use of them was ethical.”

  Jay shrugged on his coat and stepped over to face Grant again. “You haven’t changed. You have the same moral integrity that I’ve always witnessed in your life. And if you were not guided by that strength of character you could have chosen to lie about the drugs.”

  “But I manipulated the system. Never mind that I had myself convinced at the time that it was necessary. Never mind that it was legal. I told myself that the physician who had first given me the medication was being too tight with his prescriptions and that as a physician myself, I had the ability to decide if I needed more. That’s why I made an appointment with another physician. He listened to my history, trusted me, and wrote the script I requested for chronic pain. I specifically chose this physician because I had noted while treating some of his patients in the ER that he was more liberal with his narcotic prescriptions.”

  Jay frowned at him for a moment then shook his head. “You set higher ethical goals for yourself than anyone could humanly hope to achieve and then you blame yourself when you can’t reach them. If you do reach them you give God the credit.”

  “That’s because it truly is impossible to abide by God’s standards of conduct on our own. When I tried and failed to do the right thing by my own strength I had a crisis of faith. It lasted for two years. It wasn’t until I realized I had been placing that faith on the wrong shoulders—mine instead of His—that I was able to accept that weakness in myself and lay the next crisis in His hands and not my own.”

  “Has it worked?”

  “I haven’t had the opportunity to test it.”

  Jay led the way out into the hallway and pressed the elevator button. “I hope you never do.”

  ***

  “I’m sorry.” Lauren wiped the final tears from her face with the back of her hand.

  Brooke dug into the pocket of her jeans and brought out a tissue of questionable cleanliness. Lauren took it gratefully. Why had she left her purse in the car? There was a whole packet of tissues in it.

  Brooke and Beau remained silent as she struggled to compose herself.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  “It’s okay,” Brooke said softly. “I know how it feels. We both do.”

  Lauren heard the thread of true understanding in Brooke’s voice. “Was your mother’s funeral the last one you attended?”

  Brooke and Beau looked at each other and nodded.

  “And yet you’re willing to come here for me?”

  Beau cleared his throat and winked at Lauren in a characteristic attempt to display humor. “You were willing to put up with Brooke while Dad’s gone. It was the least we could do.”

  Brooke reached for his nose but he blocked her grab and the tension drained in a quick flight of teenaged play. Lauren’s tears were forgotten for the moment.

  She stared into the evening sky. The stars were brighter out here in the country where streetlights and neon signs and traffic didn’t interfere. She turned to the twins, then started toward the house. “Thanks again for bringing me.”

  Brooke fell into step beside her. “Dad would have done it if he’d been here. We couldn’t let you come by yourself, especially knowing how close you and Hardy were.”

  Lauren swallowed back a fresh attack of tears. She couldn’t allow herself to dump all her pain on these two. They’d been through enough. She needed to lighten the mood, change the subject if only for a few moments. She had to get herself under control before she stepped into this house.

  A denim-blue Camaro shone in the glow from one of the pole lights and Lauren saw her cue. “Oh, Brooke,” she teased. “Guess who’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “A certain cousin of mine. Remember Jason?”

  “Jason? Aha! I knew it,” Beau said. “That’s why—”

  “That is not why I came here, Beau Sheldon,” Brooke snapped. “I can’t believe you would even think I’d be so shallow. How was I supposed to know he’d be here?”

  “How do you think Evan would feel if he knew you endured riding in the backseat of the Volvo for a whole hour just to see—”

  “That’s a lie and you know it. I came for Lauren. And besides, Beau, what does Evan have to do with anything? You act like we’re dating or something.”

  Lauren led the way up the broad slope of the front lawn, stepping across patches of tree-shaped shadows. “Brooke, you’ve got to realize he’s crazy about you. As much time as you spend with him, he obviously thinks you feel the same about him.”

  “He knows better.”

  “You stayed out with Evan until midnight last Saturday,” Beau said. “You’re trying to tell us you were working on a school project?”

  Her sudden silence was interrupted by louder talk and laughter from inside the house.

  Lauren felt another attack of grief.

  “I can’t believe all the people who are here,” Brooke murmured. “Hardy was sure popular.”

  “Hardy was...Hardy,” Lauren said. How could she describe a man who had been a star athlete in high school and who wrote poetry and love letters to his childhood sweetheart until she’d finally broken down and married him? And how did one explain the kind of person who was willing to risk his own life to rescue a co-worker?

  “He was a hero,” Brooke said. “You told us he and Archer were good friends. Is Archer coming tonight?”

  “He came by earlier this afternoon.” Lauren reached for the door. “Time to enter the fray.”

  ***

  Grant heard a piercing shriek as soon as he stepped out of his car onto the grassy drive beside his mother’s house. It sounded like the obnoxious wheeeee of a two-hundred-pound mosquito. He frowned and looked around the neighborhood, at the older homes that needed painting, at the yards that had been neglected for too many years, at the busy intersection just three houses south of Mom’s, and at the convenience store across the street. Someone’s fan belt must be acting up.

  He went up the concrete steps to the kitchen door and hesitated at the top. The sound grew louder. An acrid smell caught his attention. He peered through the window in the door and saw a pot on the stove belching black smoke.

  “Mom!” He jerked open the unlocked door and plunged into the gloom. He reached the stove, turned off the burner, and pulled the pot from the heat. The fierce cry of the alarm jarred his nerves. “Mom!” He coughed and bent forward to search for better air. “Are you here? Mom?”

  He rushed into an empty living room, raced down the short hallway toward the bedrooms, and nearly collided with a figure coming out of the gloom.

  “What is it? Grant?” She reached toward him and touched his arm. “What’s wrong? And all that racket...”

  He slumped against the wall. She was okay. His heart slowed its erratic beat. “Mom,” he shouted, “your smoke alarm is screeching because something was burning on the stove.” He reached up and pulled the battery from the alarm over his head in the hallway. The relief was immediate. “Were you cooking something?”

  She stared up at him in confusion for a moment, then her expression cleared and she nodded. “Pot roast. Oh, phooey, you mean it’s burned? I thought we’d have a nice family dinner tonight.” She waved at the smoke in her face and stepped past him toward the kitchen.

  “Don’t go in there yet. Let’s get some windows and doors open and turn on the exhaust fan. Family dinner? I thought we had decided I would take you out to dinner tonight.”

  The confusion returned. “We did? When was... oh that’s right...”

  “It’s okay. We’ll get the house aired out and then we’ll go.” Something was very wrong with his mother.

  Chapter 15

  Memories accosted Lauren as soon as she stepped into the overheated noisy atmosphere of home. Hardy’s face smiled at her from framed school pictures on the built-in shelves next to the staircase of the big old farmhouse. She could almost hear his teasing cracking voice the day he bra
gged to her that his notches had surpassed hers—when Daddy measured their height each year, he had carved those notches into the corners of the staircase threshold for each child to measure yearly growth. Hardy outgrew her at the age of fifteen.

  She reached up and traced those indentations with her right forefinger. Simple pencil marks weren’t enough for Herbert McCaffrey. They had to be carved into the wood deeply enough to withstand a coat of paint. Hardy had done the same with his little girls as soon as they were big enough to stand up straight beside the threshold. He was—had been—a proud daddy himself.

  Brooke and Beau crowded through the door behind her, hovering, waiting patiently. For a moment she didn’t want to move past the entryway. Her friends and family filled the rest of the house with life but they had left this vestibule private. She wanted a couple more minutes to delay looking into the grief in her parents’ eyes. She needed to fortify herself to comfort Sandi and the girls. How could she possibly do that? She couldn’t tell them everything would be okay.

  “Lord, protect them,” she whispered. “Comfort them.”

  Brooke touched her on the arm. “Need to go for another walk?”

  Lauren turned and patted her hand. “Thanks, honey. It’s too late. I need to get in there.” She inhaled the scents that drifted from the kitchen. This big old house was constructed so that the rooms downstairs interconnected. The kitchen aromas accosted her from both sides.

  Here in southern Missouri a death in the family brought out friends and relatives from every pastoral acre, all with their best-cooked recipes of fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, chicken and dressing, chicken and nood—

  A thump on the stairs behind her was quickly followed by two strong arms wrapping around her from behind. “What kept you?” growled a male voice in her left ear.

  She smelled her brother Roger’s citrus aftershave as he pulled her against his chest in a grip like a grizzly. Roger. Her youngest brother. Her only living brother now.

  Tears burned her eyes yet again. “Sorry I’m late. We’re having all kinds of nursing shortages at the hospital lately and I’ve been picking up a few more shifts.” Chatter mode. Anything to keep the present circumstances from caving in on her.

  His arms tightened, then he released her and let her turn around to give him a proper hug. “Let them hire a temporary nurse. We need you here right now. Sandi and the girls need you.” His voice rumbled with the gruffness that he always used to cover his emotions.

  “How are they doing?” She released him and stood back to look up at the dark circles beneath his tired green eyes. Those were the McCaffrey eyes. The rest of Roger’s features—the long narrow face and dark hair—also resembled Daddy’s side of the family, while Hardy and Lauren had taken after Mom’s Nordic ancestors.

  “Not too good.” Roger hugged Brooke and Beau then laid a hand on Lauren’s shoulder and walked with her to the wide threshold that led into the huge crowded living room. Heads came up from conversations. Greetings reached them from everywhere.

  From where she stood, Lauren could see the kitchen, which had a breakfast bar that divided the two areas. Past that divider, her sister-in-law Sandi huddled beside the stove as if she couldn’t get warm. The girls, Faith and Sierra, sat at the kitchen counter with two of their cousins, all of them intent on their coloring books. Mom worked at the table nearby replenishing food and paper plates on the bar, which was already heaped with food. Family worked beside her.

  Typical of Mom, she always buried her grief or worry in work. There were telltale signs of fresh tears on her face and a tightness around her mouth that wasn’t ordinarily there but she would offer a welcome for every person who walked into the house tonight. With her attention on her daughter-in-law and granddaughters, she didn’t see Lauren in the entryway.

  Daddy would be outside with some neighbors and men of the family huddled under the hood of a cantankerous pickup truck or peering at the motor of one of the farm tractors. Every few minutes he would saunter off into the shadows alone, look up into the sky, blow his nose. Sitting in the living room with all that noise and commotion was too wearing on him and he would grieve hard.

  While Roger escorted Brooke and Beau into the living room, Lauren took the long way to the kitchen, through the deserted back hall and basement landing. She heard the shrieks and pounding footsteps of children playing in the upstairs hallway. Faith and Sierra would ordinarily be up there shrieking as loudly, playing with as much abandon as the others.

  Lauren stepped through the back entrance of the overheated kitchen.

  Eight-year-old Sierra looked up from the coloring book. “Aunt Lauren! Mama, she’s here!” Scrambling from her stool, the child tossed her crayon to the counter.

  Lauren met her halfway across the room with open arms and nearly stumbled backward at the impact as the blond-haired child hurled herself forward. Faith and their mother Sandi joined them. The tears began once more.

  ***

  Beau stood between Brooke and Roger inside the expansive threshold that led from the entrance vestibule to the rest of the house. He stared at the thirty or so people crowded every which way in the living room. Some of Lauren’s teenaged cousins huddled around a card table in the far corner of the room. He could tell that many of them had been here for quite some time because the initial hush of shocked grief had abated and, typical of what he’d witnessed of the McCaffrey clan when they got together, things were getting lively.

  Blond-haired Jason McCaffrey caught sight of Beau and Brooke from that far corner and gestured for them to join the circle of others who hovered around a board game.

  Brooke reached for Beau’s arm to drag him with her but he evaded her grasp and stepped backward. He had no intention of laughing and playing games while people were grieving. On top of that, shyness had attacked him. He looked for an empty corner where he might be less visible.

  In spite of what he considered slightly inappropriate behavior so soon after a man’s death, he envied Brooke as she sauntered past groups of friendly faces—greeting those she knew and allowing herself to be introduced to others.

  He and Brooke knew many of the people here. Lauren’s family was close-knit and different ones had driven to Dogwood Springs to attend church with her or have lunch with her or even visit her at work. When she’d been hospitalized in the summer for mercury poisoning, the whole clan had turned up at the hospital and practically camped out in the waiting rooms until they could be assured she would be okay.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and ambled toward a bare space along the wall next to the fireplace to his left.

  “Beau Sheldon, don’t you disappear until I get my hug!” called a husky female voice from across the room.

  He turned to see Lauren’s oldest sister, Sarah, wave at him from the love seat beside the front window. She smiled as she stood to walk toward him.

  Lauren’s family was a kissy huggy one. Lauren was also a hugger, although she didn’t force her hugs on someone she sensed didn’t want them. Beau didn’t mind at all.

  “Aren’t you getting more handsome all the time, just like your father.” Sarah was five years older than Lauren, heavier, and she wore glasses. She also talked more. But she had Lauren’s wide smile that seemed to warm the air around her.

  She reached up and enveloped him with plump arms and a hint of sweet perfume. He loved those motherly McCaffrey hugs and he returned the favor.

  “My goodness, those shoulders just keep getting broader.” She leaned back and beamed up at him. “Where are your father and sister?” She turned and looked around the room. One of the McCaffrey aunts and two cousins waved and called a belated greeting to Beau.

  Suddenly, he didn’t feel quite so shy. He waved back as he answered Sarah. “Dad had to go to St. Louis, so Lauren’s staying with us for a few days.”

  “Oh, she is, is she? Good for her.” Sarah looked around until she caught sight of her younger sister in the kitchen and nodded. “Where’s that sister of yours
?”

  He pointed toward the far corner of the room. He liked Lauren’s sisters. He liked all of Lauren’s family. They were loud and friendly country folks, generous and outspoken. “Brooke and I didn’t want Lauren to drive here alone.”

  “Thanks for taking care of her for us. Hey there, Brooke Sheldon,” Sarah called over the din of the room. “Why don’t you come and give your auntie a hug?”

  With a grin, Brooke stood and made her way back through the crowd.

  “Hi, Aunt Sarah.” Brooke reached out for a hug as soon as she was close enough.

  Sarah didn’t disappoint. “There’s my beautiful girl. How’re you, darlin’? I can’t tell you how much I like the sound of that name coming from your lips. Too bad Lauren didn’t hear it.” Sarah released Brooke and craned her neck to glance into the kitchen, where Lauren continued to huddle beside Hardy’s family. “This is going to be so hard for them but you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Bless your hearts.”

  She glanced from Brooke to Beau as if they would know all the answers for a grieving family and suddenly a sheen of moisture filled her eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered. “It’s a horrible shock. I want to take those little nieces of mine in my arms and love all that pain away but I know that can’t be done. Still, I hug on ‘em whenever I get a chance.” Her voice cracked and her chin dimpled.

  Beau forgot about his attack of shyness completely and put an arm across her shoulders. “I think your family is going to be a lot of comfort to Sandi and the girls. I wish we’d had support like this when Mom died.”

  “Me too,” Brooke said.

  Sarah dabbed at her nose with a tissue from her shirt pocket. “You don’t have a lot of family?”

  “Not a big one like yours,” Brooke said. “And Dad wasn’t released from the hospital in time for Mom’s funeral.”