Love in the Time of Corona

by Elena Graf

  Cherie shook her head. “She wouldn’t, of course. I’m just being paranoid.”

  “I understand,” said Lucy. “There’s a stigma attached to a medical professional who needs counseling. Of course, you know how common it is. If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first person from that practice to find your way here.”

  “Really?” Cherie’s eyes looked curious. They were such a unique color. When Cherie had first moved to Hobbs, Lucy instantly realized she had competition for being the most attractive woman in town. Not having a vain bone in her body, Lucy welcomed it.

  “You know I can’t say more,” said Lucy. “In fact, I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you should have. It reassured me. I needed reassurance.”

  Lucy settled back in her chair. “This is going to be fun. I always find having another therapist as a client a real challenge. We’re so good at second guessing one another.”

  “One of the reasons I chose you is I hear you have an unconventional approach.”

  Lucy felt unaccountably flattered by the remark. “Not intentionally unconventional. I just follow my instincts. They’re usually good.”

  “What makes you different is I feel the concern and warmth in everything you say, whether it’s just talking like this or in church. It’s like you just love everybody.”

  “That’s my job. If God is love, as St. John says, and I am her priest, I need to reflect God’s love to her people.”

  Cherie smiled. “You’re one of those radical priests who believe God is female.”

  “Apart from Jesus, who was incarnated as a man, God has no body and no gender. Personally, I find the mother metaphor more evocative. When I use female pronouns, it wakes people up and makes them think.”

  Cherie nodded thoughtfully. “Hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “Were you raised in the Episcopal Church, Cherie?”

  “No, Catholic. My father is French Canadian. Very Catholic, but he wanted to marry my mother, who was divorced. That doesn’t fly in the Catholic Church. They were married by a judge. Eventually, my parents drifted toward the Episcopal Church because it was enough like Catholic to feel right. I was an adolescent by then, and questioning everything, but I came along for the ride. So here I am.”

  “I, for one, am glad you are.” Lucy allowed a long pause to develop, hoping Cherie would say more. When she didn’t, she finally asked, “How can I help you, Cherie?”

  Cherie visibly squirmed at first, but then she said, “Dr. Stolz assigned me to work with Brenda Harrison on the school drug project. Tough love, I think. She’s been encouraging me to get over my issues with the chief.”

  “Why don’t you get along with Chief Harrison?”

  “It’s not personal. It’s cops.”

  “I see,” said Lucy, sitting forward in her chair. “Tell me more.”

  “Not many people know I’m biracial.”

  Lucy had to force herself not to show surprise. With blond hair and stunning blue-green eyes, Cherie looked completely Caucasian. Yes, her skin was slightly darker than most, and she had beautifully shaped, full lips, but nothing else about her appearance even hinted at an Afro-American heritage.

  “My grandmother was black,” explained Cherie. “She was quite a woman, the principal of the black elementary school. My white grandfather absolutely adored her. She was gorgeous. So was my mother, who could also pass for white. I’m only one-quarter black. Of course, in the South, they have the one drop rule. If you have even one drop of black blood, you’re black.”

  “I never would have guessed,” Lucy honestly admitted.

  “No one ever does. People ask if I’m Scandinavian because of my coloring. There are a lot of olive-complected Scandinavians. My blond hair and blue eyes make people think I must be white.”

  “Is that a problem for you?”

  “Yes, because I identify as a black woman. My mother never tried to deny her heritage. She cooked traditional black food as well as Creole dishes. The church we attended was a black church. My father felt a little strange at first, but he fit right in. There’s so much warmth in a black church. That’s why I love St. Margaret’s. It’s not a black church, but I feel the warmth.”

  “That’s wonderful to hear,” said Lucy, smiling. “But back to police officers. What’s your issue with them?”

  “I witnessed some police violence.”

  “Obviously, it left a lasting impression.”

  “It certainly did. The victim was my sister. My half-sister really.”

  “Is she all right now?”

  “She’s dead.”

  Lucy sat back in her chair as if Cherie’s words had physically pushed her. She hated to react so obviously, but in this case, she couldn’t control it.

  “Oh, Cherie, I’m so sorry.”

  Cherie nodded to acknowledge the sympathy.

  “What happened? Can you tell me?”

  Cherie took a deep breath. “We were riding along the highway, coming back from a party, being silly, having fun. A trooper pulled us over for a broken taillight. He was young and obviously very nervous. He took out his gun right away. He ordered us to get out of the car. When my sister didn’t move fast enough, he shot her.”

  “My word!” Lucy exclaimed. “How horrible!”

  “Yes.”

  “And you witnessed this?”

  “I did. In fact, the bullet went right through her and hit me in the shoulder. I still have a little scar from it. Her blood spattered all over me. She died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I held her hand until she died.”

  “Oh, Cherie. I’m so, so sorry you had to witness that. What a tragedy!”

  “In case you haven’t guessed, I don’t like guns either.”

  “I’m not too fond of them myself,” Lucy admitted. “What happened to the trooper who shot your sister?”

  Cherie shrugged, but she looked close to tears. “Nothing. There wasn’t even a hearing.” She shrugged again. “He just got away with it.”

  “You think it would have been different if she had been white?”

  “Absolutely. The trooper kept apologizing to me. Of course, he thought I was white. Meanwhile, my sister was lying there, bleeding to death.”

  Lucy took a moment to dismiss her visualization of the scene. Finally, she said, “I can certainly understand why you have an issue with the police. But Brenda Harrison is different. When she was in the NYPD, she was in charge of sensitivity training for officers working in minority neighborhoods. She and Dr. Stolz do regular firearms training for the police to prevent unnecessary shootings. She’s on your side.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Cherie, shaking her head. “I see the uniform and the gun and nothing else. Those are my triggers. As soon as I see them, I feel my heart race and my throat constrict.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “No, it’s not. I try to avoid her and other cops as much as I can. But now Liz has forced this assignment on me.”

  “So, you need to deal with it, or your job is in jeopardy.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Lucy took a deep breath as she considered the situation. “So, what would you recommend if the situation were reversed?”

  “Cognitive therapy. Trying to desensitize the client gradually. But I’ve tried all that.”

  “Treating yourself usually doesn’t work. You can’t be objective enough,” Lucy said, mostly to herself because she was still focused on Cherie’s dilemma. “Wow! This is complicated.”

  “You bet it is. She likes me.”

  “Brenda is a friendly person.”

  Cherie gave her a hard look. “I mean, she likes me.”

  “Oh!” said Lucy, sitting up straight as if she’d been goosed. “Are you…?”

  “A lesbian? Yes.”

&nbs
p; Lucy’s eyes grew wide. “I would have never guessed.”

  “No one does,” said Cherie with a sigh. “I just don’t read.”

  “They don’t read me either. And don’t go by me. My gaydar is pretty weak.”

  Lucy took a moment to collect her thoughts.

  “But that could work in your favor. Maybe you could meet in neutral territory…go out for dinner somewhere when she’s not wearing her uniform.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No, I’m not. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just a friendly dinner to get to know her.”

  Cherie gave her a skeptical look. “Mother Lucy, you certainly do have an unconventional approach.”

  Chapter Four

  The practice manager’s voice blaring through the intercom made Cherie’s patient jump. “Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Bois, but Chief Harrison is here for you.”

  “Thanks, Ginny, please tell her I’ll be right with her.”

  Cherie smiled at her patient. “My apologies for that, Mr. Barnes.”

  The old man’s broad smile revealed that two of his front teeth were missing. “Are you in trouble, Ms. Bois?”

  “In trouble?” Cherie repeated, puzzled.

  Mr. Barnes raised a bushy brow. “If the chief is looking for you, maybe you should escape out the back door like in the movies.”

  Cherie laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’re working on a project together. I said I’d meet her about now, but I’ve been running late today.”

  “Never had a doctor see me on time,” said Mr. Barnes with a gap-toothed grin. “Glad you didn’t break my perfect record!”

  She released the lever to let down the lower part of the examination table so her patient could step down. “I think we’re done here. You can get dressed now.” She closed the door to give him privacy and headed to the office to finish her notes.

  By the time she returned, Mr. Barnes was dressed and ready to be escorted down the hall.

  “I’ve already sent your prescriptions to the pharmacy. They should be ready by this afternoon.”

  “I’ll have my daughter pick them up,” he said, heading to the door. “Thanks, Ms. Bois. And don’t let the chief put you in jail. If she does, I’ll speak up for you.”

  Cherie looked up to see Chief Harrison smiling. “You do something I don’t know about?”

  Cherie shook her head, not really paying attention to the question because she was so busy studying Brenda. She looked so different today, wearing an ordinary parka, not a police jacket. Her long, blond hair was down, and she was wearing more eye makeup than usual. For the first time, Cherie noticed her eyes were a deep shade of blue. Her cheeks were rosy, whether from the cold or makeup was hard to tell. The little blush made her look pink and healthy. She smiled fully, showing perfectly white teeth. Cherie wondered how she had missed the fact that this woman was really attractive.

  Cherie took her parka down from the hook in the practice manager’s room. “If Dr. Stolz is looking for me, tell her I’m off on my assignment with the Chief Harrison.” When she went out to the waiting room, she met another dazzling smile and couldn’t help but return it.

  “You know,” said Brenda, “I think that’s the first time you’ve really smiled at me.”

  “You’re not wearing your uniform today.”

  “I’m off duty.”

  Cherie, who had set up the meeting, felt guilty for taking up Brenda’s personal time. “You should have told me. We could have done it on a different day.”

  “It’s fine. I didn’t have anything special planned for today. I can think of worse ways to spend it.” Brenda gave her another brilliant smile.

  Cherie found herself studying Brenda’s features, trying to place why she looked so familiar. Brenda had a very English look to her face, creamy, youthful skin, a square jaw, and a little cleft in her chin. Cherie, who was addicted to BBC series, finally remembered where she’d seen someone who had a face like that—the middle-aged policewoman in Happy Valley. Brenda even had the same expression of damaged vulnerability as the main character, Sergeant Cawood. Brenda was trimmer than the actress who played the role, but there was an uncanny resemblance.

  “You remind me of Sarah Lancashire.”

  “Who?” Brenda asked, looking puzzled.

  “She’s a British actress who plays a police sergeant in a BBC series.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “She’s a very good actress. I bet you’d like that series, and I’d be interested to hear what you think of it.”

  “You would?” asked Brenda, beaming again. “Maybe we could watch it together.”

  “Maybe,” Cherie found herself saying. She gazed into Brenda’s blue eyes and saw her own image reflected back, a tiny, curious Cherie.

  “You ready to go?”

  Cherie realized Brenda was repeating the question because she hadn’t answered it the first time. “Yes, let’s go.”

  “I can drive and drop you off back here when we’re done,” said Brenda.

  “Yes…okay.” Get a grip, Cherie told herself. You have a job to do.

  She followed Brenda out the door to the parking lot.

  “Watch out here,” said Brenda, reaching out her hand. “There’s an icy patch.”

  Ordinarily, Cherie would wave off the offer of help to assert her independence, but for some reason, she took Brenda’s hand. It was warm and held hers gently but firmly as it guided her down the stairs. They exchanged a warm smile when Cherie reached the bottom.

  Brenda led her to a pickup truck, a bright red Tacoma. “Another truck fan,” said Cherie.

  After a confused look, Brenda said, “Oh, right. Liz drives one too. And for the same reasons probably—dump runs, hauling sheetrock and salt for the water conditioner.”

  “You Maine ladies are all so self-reliant and handy.”

  “Well, you’re a Maine lady now, although you wouldn’t know it from that Southern drawl.”

  “I do not drawl,” countered Cherie indignantly.

  “You sure do!”

  “You should talk. I can hear a hint of Brooklyn now and then.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me that. You don’t know how hard I’ve tried to get rid of it. They hate New Yorkers up here.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, yes, they do. They think we’re all wise guys and crooks. That we’re only here to make a fast buck.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Almost ten years. I put in my twenty in New York and headed straight up here.”

  “I guess you knew what you wanted.”

  “Sure did. Me and my lady had our retirement carefully planned.”

  Realizing Brenda had just come out to her, Cherie searched her face. “Your lady? Are you still together?”

  A shadow passed in Brenda’s face, and she shook her head. “Car accident. T-boned at an intersection.”

  “Oh, Brenda, I’m so sorry,” said Cherie. “I didn’t realize...”

  Brenda compressed her lips and looked away. “Thank you.” she said and cleared her throat. “We should get going. I told Duvaney we’d be there by four-thirty.”

  They rode in silence to the police station. When they went inside, Cherie noted that the interaction between the staff and their chief was relaxed and friendly. The staff nodded and greeted Brenda as they walked through the office on their way to the storage area.

  It took Brenda a minute to find the right key from a ring holding a dozen. She unlocked the storage room door. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” She took down the plastic storage bins from the shelves and spread them out on the floor. Cherie’s made a quick survey of the contents. There was everything from nitrile gloves to full HAZMAT suits.

  “You’re better prepared than I expected,” Cherie said as she
picked through the bins. She took out her iPad and began to write quantities on the list she’d prepared.

  “Sometimes we get chemical spills on 95. Usually, the troopers and the state DOT handle that, but sometimes they call us in. We have to be ready for anything.”

  Cherie looked at Brenda with new respect.

  “I bet you thought we just write speeding tickets. We write those too, so watch your speed, especially in front of the elementary school.”

  It took nearly an hour to write up the complete list of the supplies the Hobbs police had in stock. Some of the face masks were expired. “We should pitch those,” said Brenda.

  “No, let’s keep them for now. They’re better than nothing in a pinch.”

  They repacked everything carefully and replaced the bins on the shelves before heading to the fire department.

  “Have you ever met Chief Duvaney?” asked Brenda as they walked to the adjacent building.

  “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

  Brenda made a little face. “He’s old school, a little rough around the edges like a lot of Mainers, but a good guy. Try to look past appearances.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” said Cherie.

  They found Chief Duvaney in his office, wolfing down a sandwich. He was a middle-aged, stocky man, who made Cherie suddenly remember Liz’s comment on her first day. “We grow ‘em big up here. Always test their blood sugar.”

  “Hey, Paul,” said Brenda knocking on the door. “Mind if we interrupt?”

  “Nah, come on in,” he said. He didn’t get up for his visitors. He merely pointed to the two chairs in front of the desk. Brenda didn’t take the offer. “Do you mind if I finish my sandwich?” he asked, taking a large bite.

  “No, go ahead.” Brenda beckoned to Cherie to come into the office. “Paul, I’d like you to meet Liz Stolz’s physician’s assistant, Cherie Bois.”

  Paul’s eyes grew big as Cherie came in, and he unabashedly looked her up and down. As he took another mouthful of sandwich, Cherie felt like the piece of ham he was about to devour. Unfortunately, she was used to that reaction from men and ignored it.

  “We’re not going to take up your time,” Brenda explained. “I just wanted to let you know we’re here.”