URGENT CARE

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URGENT CARE Page 14

by Alexander, Hannah


  She dialed the church number and reached the recording on the fourth ring.

  Next, the hospital ER. It rang six times before an unfamiliar voice answered. The call had been diverted to the main hospital switchboard. After being informed that they were busy in the emergency department at this time, she asked about Archer.

  “The chaplain?” the girl asked. “Sure, I saw him here earlier. Didn’t talk to him—I had too many calls at the time. Busy as they are back in the department he’s probably still around. Is this his wife? Jessica Lane?” She breathed Jessica’s stage name on a note of awe.

  “Yes, this is his wife. I go by Pierce here at home,” she said gently, hearing the buzz in the background of more telephones waiting to be answered. “Look, I know you’re busy, I just wanted—”

  “You want me to run to the ER and see if he’s there? I could bring him to the phone myself, Mrs. Pierce.”

  Again the insistent buzz of other callers trying to get through to the busy switchboard operator. “No, there’s no need. I just wanted to make sure he was safe.”

  “I’ll let him know you called.”

  Jessica thanked her and disconnected. He would be home when he could get away. She shouldn’t have panicked. Archer had been known to stay at the hospital all night after a bad accident. He even went to Springfield sometimes if a patient was transferred there. It wasn’t protocol. The the larger hospitals had their own chaplains but people attached to him easily. She could understand that. She was pretty attached to him herself.

  Woozy with fatigue, she slumped onto the couch, crossed her legs, and rested her feet on the coffee table. The hospital must be really busy.

  “Archer, if you only had forty-eight hours in a day. If only both of us did.”

  “Please hurry home,” she whispered as she drifted to sleep.

  ***

  Archer awakened to the sight of the moon bleeding through a haze of mist that drifted into the beckoning fingers of the tree branches above him.

  He shivered, glad he’d worn his wool suit coat to the deacon’s meeting, glad the weather was a little warmer than usual.

  The glow from the moon provided enough light for him to focus on his surroundings—what surroundings he could see without moving too drastically.

  The reflection of light played across the surface of water that had spread out into the floodplain of the river—many feet higher than normal. The pale liquid luminescence bounced across the ripples. There was nothing more, no opposite shore. Just flood waters. He remembered seeing the river that had become a lake.

  Have to get out... have to get help.

  A rush of nausea struck him and he fought it until the blackness of the night overtook him and he passed out once again.

  ***

  Jessica awakened with a start and found herself lying awkwardly across the arm of the sofa, feet still braced against the coffee table. She sat up and gave her eyes time to adjust to the glow of the lamplight, grimacing at the pain in her neck and shoulders from the uncomfortable position. It took a few seconds to focus the blurred numbers on her watch.

  Four o’clock.

  She groaned and pulled herself from the sofa. She’d been asleep for hours. “Archer?” Maybe he’d come home, seen her asleep, and decided not to wake her.

  “Honey?” She stretched and walked barefoot through the house, down the hallway to the bedroom. The door stood open and she stepped from the residual halo of light from the living room lamp into the comfortable darkness, automatically listening for the sound of his breathing.

  “Archer?” she whispered.

  No answer.

  “Archer?” She whispered more loudly as she turned on the overhead light.

  The pale mauve and burgundy comforter was as it had been when she first came home—which was the same way it had been this morning when she tossed it casually over the pillows. There was no indentation where he might have rested his head.

  “Archer?” She glanced into the bathroom. “Honey?”

  She pivoted and hurried back through the house to the garage. His car wasn’t there.

  She fought back panic. “Archer Pierce, where are you? What’s going on?”

  She searched the rest of the house. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t come home. She dialed the hospital.

  “Becky? This is Jessica Pierce.” She hesitated. What would happen when word got out that Archer Pierce’s wife was looking for him at four in the morning? And why on earth should that even matter right now? He was gone! “Have you seen my husband in the past few hours? I got home late from my show and it looks as if he might have been called out on an emergency.” It wasn’t a lie, he could well have been called out.

  “Not for quite a while, Jessica.” Becky’s voice quickened with concern. “I saw him walk through last night when we were busy but I don’t know where he went. You’re telling me he hasn’t called you to let you know where he is? I’d tie him up by his toenails if I were you and—”

  “Right now I’d just be relieved to see him. How bad was the storm in town last night? We didn’t get much in Branson.” She felt the tension tighten in a vise around the base of her skull. Here she was talking about the weather when—

  “It was wild here for a while and we’ve heard reports of flooding all around the area. The valleys and hollers were hit hard and the old north bridge over the Black Oak River finally washed out—I’d been warning people that was going to happen someday.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “Some idiot tried to drive over a low water bridge and got stranded, but the fire fighters got to him about three this morning. His car’s a goner, though.”

  “But it wasn’t—”

  “Not Archer. He’d never do anything like that. That’s all the emergencies so far. Some of the folks down on Ford Street are sandbagging around their houses. They didn’t name that place Ford Street for nothing—you’d have to ford a lake to drive on it right now. Knowing Archer, he’d be down there helping if he could.”

  “You’re probably right.” That was exactly something Archer would be doing. So all this panic was probably for nothing. She would have a few words to say to him when he got home... after she smothered him with kisses and told him how much she loved and admired him, and threatened him with bodily harm if he ever did anything like this to her again.

  “Say, Dr. Sheldon just finished up with a patient. You want to talk to him?” Becky asked. “I can send your call to his office. He might know something I don’t.”

  “Thanks, Becky, I’d appreciate it.”

  He, too, picked up on the first ring and listened as Jessica explained the situation.

  “I sent him out into the country on an errand. Do you know where Mrs. Eddingly lives? She’s down in the valley. If I’d known about the flooding problems I wouldn’t have been so quick to let him go but—”

  “He went to her house?” Jessica knew the elderly lady. She lived so far out in the country that it took her thirty minutes to drive to church over the rough dirt roads. When it rained a local creek sometimes cut her off from civilization.

  “He could have gotten stranded out there,” Grant said. “I think I heard her complain once that her phone line goes down every time it storms. Believe me, if he’s out there he’s as anxious to get a hold of you as you are to find him.”

  Jessica silently blessed Grant Sheldon and his common sense. “Becky said the old bridge was out but I know Archer is too sensible to try to cross it if there was water over it.”

  “If it would make you feel better I’ll call the police and see if there’ve been any updates on the storm damage or a wreck or something.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “but I’ll call them myself. I’m sure he’s just out helping the rescue people or something. You know he’s an adrenaline junkie at heart.”

  Grant chuckled. “He’d have to be or he wouldn’t hang out here so often.”

  As soon as Jessica said goodbye to Grant she called the police. No furth
er word about the flooding and nothing about Archer. She hung up and changed the announcement on their voice mail so that Archer would hear it if he called for her. It was a waste of time and energy to pace and worry and fret about his safety if he was seeing to the safety of others. So she wouldn’t pace; she would drive. She was going to search for her husband.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A chime of sound slid through the darkness of unconsciousness until Mitchell Caine slowly became aware of the disturbance. He didn’t open his eyes immediately—the softness of the bed drew him back toward the comfort of oblivion. He hated mornings and if he remembered correctly this was Saturday. No clinic. No hospital rounds. His only in-hospital patient had been released yesterday afternoon.

  As always, a fog hovered over his memory of the previous night. It had faded out somewhere in the middle of an interesting conversation with Archer Pierce and he wondered what he might have said to the preacher this time. Some memories might return to him eventually but his drug of choice—though it served as a powerful sleep aid—often blocked the memories for good. A small price to—

  The chime drifted to him again and he frowned. Surely the drug wasn’t playing havoc with his auditory sense. He occasionally dreamed musical notes, however, and his dreams were becoming more and more vivid in the past few—

  The chime came once again and this time he recognized it. The doorbell.

  He forced his lids open and focused with difficulty on the lighted face of the clock. “Five-forty-five,” he muttered. Why would anyone disturb him at this time of the morning?

  A soft knock followed the chime, signaling that the visitor would not give up easily.

  He dragged his body out of bed and retrieved his satin robe from his dressing chair.

  Murky dreams—or were they memories? —hovered just past the edge of consciousness as he put on his slippers. Tranquen often caused nightmares and he vaguely remembered a vivid one about red eyes blinking at him in the darkness.

  He shook his head, winced at the pain, touched his forehead, felt the shock all the way up his arm. A goose egg? Had he stumbled and fallen during the night?

  The doorbell chimed once more and he walked down the silent hallway to answer it. He stepped into the marble foyer and touched the cold brass knob.

  He drew back with a chill when another memory of the nightmare accosted him. Those flickering red eyes...

  Impatient with himself, he opened the door and then gasped aloud at the sight of an emaciated young woman in dirty jeans and a wet T-shirt, dark hair plastered to her face and neck. Her pale blue eyes had dark circles beneath them that seemed to bruise her bony face.

  “Hi, Dad.” She held up a torn plastic grocery bag, stretched to bursting with tattered clothing and toiletries. “I got kicked out of my apartment.”

  The sight of her was so incongruous he waited for her image to dissolve into the air.

  She scowled at him. “Look, if you don’t want me here just say so but could I at least talk to Mom before I go?”

  “Your mother?” Hadn’t she been in touch with Darla? Was it possible she didn’t know?

  “I’m sorry I woke you up but—”

  He stood back for her to enter. “Please come in. I’m just so surprised to see you, Trisha.” For a moment he’d thought she was an apparition from leftover dreams.

  She took a tentative step toward the open doorway, hesitated, and apparently decided he wasn’t going to close it in her face. She moved as if she was almost too weary to take another step. He noted a smell not unlike a rat’s nest as she pressed past him.

  “How long since you left your apartment?” he asked.

  “A few days.” She dropped her bag on the marble entryway floor, crossed her arms over her nearly concave chest, and looked around the room like a starving child who had just stepped up to a buffet. “Wow,” she whispered. “I missed this place. I can’t believe it.” She turned back to him. “Is Mom still asleep?”

  “I wouldn’t know, Trisha. Your mother left months ago.”

  He expected her to be surprised by his words but he wasn’t prepared for the horror that cracked open across her face.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought she would have contacted you.”

  Trisha didn’t respond. Her face lost what little color it had and her eyelids fluttered. Mitchell caught her just before she hit her head on the marble floor.

  ***

  At six o’clock Saturday morning, Jessica was in a state of heightened desperation.

  “Oh, Lord, please...” Where was Archer? She had alternately shed tears, shouted in anger, and prayed, sometimes in a whisper, sometimes at the top of her voice.

  She raised a hand to dash fresh tears from her face and angrily slapped the kitchen counter. “Stop acting like this!” she told herself. “It isn’t going to help if you fall apart.”

  She battled fear with every word of prayer but the comfort didn’t come. It was as if her prayers weren’t getting out, as if some thick cloud kept getting in the way.

  Alone. She was alone. She needed a friend.

  But who could she call? All her friends lived and worked in Branson and it was too early in the morning to bother them—most of them had a show today or tonight or both. She couldn’t call Heather and dump all this on her.

  Jessica had always been the strong one. She couldn’t fall apart now.

  Dad? He would come if she asked him to but what could he do once he got here?

  Her best friend in Dogwood Springs—and due to her busy schedule and uneasiness with the church, her only friend—was Archer.

  “Oh, Archer, I need you,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  ***

  Grant stepped out of an exam room to find RN Muriel Stark coming toward him. He glanced at his watch. “I thought you got off at six. What are you still doing here?”

  “Emma called in sick. Eugene’s due in at eight. I’m glad I caught you. Got a minute?”

  “Yes but first I need you to order an x-ray of Haley Cameron’s left wrist.”

  “The req’s already made out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Dr. Sheldon, I know it’s nearly seven and Dr. Jonas will be here any time but I need you to check out one of our chronic pain patients.”

  Grant suppressed a groan. “Chronic? Not an emergency?”

  “Not this one.” The soothing contralto tones of her voice softened. “This patient would probably prefer to see you rather than Dr. Jonas.”

  He waited.

  “Dr. Jonas might just blow her off if you know what I mean.”

  “This is a regular patient?” Grant knew Dr. Jonas to be a compassionate physician but he had a reputation of intolerance for obvious drug seekers—and sometimes even those who weren’t so obvious.

  “Who’s the patient?”

  “Mimi Peterson again.”

  Grant bit his tongue. Hard.

  “I know about what happened with Dr. Caine but Dr. Jonas was on duty when she came in Thursday. He wasn’t very nice. She was in tears when he left her exam room.”

  Grant had learned months ago to trust Muriel’s judgment. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’d like to wait and see what you think.” She handed him the chart and he studied it. Same complaints as last time.

  “How many times has she been here in the past couple of weeks?” Grant asked.

  “This makes her fourth time.”

  He took the chart and moved to step around her but she put a hand on his arm, her doe-brown eyes intent. “When Dr. Jonas saw her he just ordered a pain shot and released her, never asked any questions, never gave her a word of comfort.”

  “You don’t feel a shot was warranted?”

  “I think she feels as if she’s being shuffled from doctor to doctor because she’s a nuisance and she’s frustrated. I get the feeling she’s becoming a little emotionally unstable because of it.”

  Grant nodded. He had picked up on the instability.
<
br />   Muriel tapped his arm and lowered her voice. “To be honest with you, a few years ago Dr. Caine could’ve figured out what’s wrong with Mimi. I just don’t think he cares enough to try anymore.”

  “This is an emergency department, Muriel,” Grant said gently. “What makes you think I can figure out something Dr. Caine can’t?”

  “Well, it’s a sure bet nobody else is going to do it. You might give Lauren a call, too. The patient asked for her when she first came in. Could be Mimi was more forthcoming with Lauren than she was with me.”

  He looked at his watch. Lauren was probably up by now—she was an early riser even on her days off.

  When he entered the exam room he could see what Muriel meant. Mimi’s long narrow face was flushed from crying and her short brown hair clung moistly to her forehead.

  She did not look overjoyed to see him. “You again.”

  “Yes, sorry, it’s me again.”

  She shrugged and looked away. “It doesn’t matter. You can send me back out the door as well as anyone else. Whatever you do, don’t call my family doctor.”

  Muriel entered the room and closed the door. “Mimi, did someone bring you here this morning?”

  “No.”

  “I’m sure your husband is a busy man with the responsibility of the whole manufacturing plant but have you ever asked him to go with you to the doctor? You could use the moral support.”

  Mimi’s expression didn’t change. “You’re trying to say I need the mental support.”

  “No, but I do wish you had someone who could drive you home today in case we need to give you a pain shot.”

  “I was placed into a taxi last time.”

  “So your husband works Saturdays?” Grant asked.

  Her chin wobbled and she looked away again. “My husband doesn’t even know I’m here. He’s dismissed me as a loony for the past year.” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t tell him about this. I’m the whole reason we had to move here in the first place.”

  Grant sat down on the exam stool. “Muriel, would you see about our patient in three? I’ll be talking to Mimi for a few moments. I’ll call you when I need you.” He might not have to talk to Lauren after all. He was off duty in a minute and a half and he had some time. Maybe he could get a few more answers this time.

 

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