URGENT CARE

by Alexander, Hannah

  Impatient with himself, he turned from the river. There wasn’t time for this trip down memory lane.

  He glanced at his watch and trekked back to the car.

  Highway Z had suddenly become far too public a place for him, and the radio announcer reminded him of the time. He was due at the clinic for his first appointment in ten minutes.

  ***

  Grant didn’t look forward to his next task. He picked up the telephone receiver and dialed Mitchell Caine’s office number. It was answered on the first ring by a well-modulated female voice.

  When he asked for Dr. Caine, he was informed that the doctor wasn’t in yet. Reluctant to put this off, Grant left a message for Mitchell to call, then dialed Mitchell’s home number and was taken aback when he heard a female voice.

  “Hello?”

  From what Grant knew of Mitchell’s home life, the man was going through a nasty divorce, and his daughter was out of the picture entirely. “Hello, I hope I have the right number. I was looking for Dr. Mitchell Caine. Is this—?”

  “He already left for work.”

  “Thank you. I would like to leave a message if I may. If you would tell him Dr. Grant Sheldon needs to speak with him I would appreciate it.”

  “Sure, I’ll make a note but you might want to reach him at his office. I don’t know what the number is.” She sounded young, perhaps around Brooke’s age or a little older, and Grant made a quick guess.

  “Is this Trisha?”

  A pause, then, “Yeah.”

  This could only be a good thing, considering all the stories Grant had heard about Mitchell’s daughter. “Mitchell must be overjoyed to have you home with him.”

  There was a soft “Yeah, right.”

  Grant couldn’t believe he’d just opened his mouth and nosed into someone else’s business. Dogwood Springs mentality must be rubbing off on him. He smiled. “I’ll try to reach him at the clinic.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  Grant replaced the receiver slowly, unable to put a lid on his curiosity. But he had other things to do.

  He stepped out of his office and paused in the hallway. He heard Dr. Jonas talking to a patient in the nearest exam room and then he heard another familiar voice—one he hadn’t expected to hear in this department this morning.

  “Would you like me to pray with you, Mrs. Normandy? I know it’s frightening, but we’ve got excellent doctors here and you don’t have to do this all by yourself. We can take this case directly to the Great Physician.”

  The voice came from exam room three. He casually strolled past the open entryway and caught sight of Jessica Pierce standing beside the raised exam bed, holding the hand of an older woman with heart-monitor wires attached to her chest. Jessica’s head was bowed in prayer and she spoke softly, gently.

  Grant smiled and returned to his office.

  A few moments later, when Jessica stepped past his open doorway, he called to her.

  “I thought you were a patient here,” he said.

  “Dr. Campbell checked me last night and I’m fine.”

  “Yes, I know. She called me. I was hoping you would be able to rest some while you were here.”

  “I can’t rest.” She strolled over to a chair in front of his desk and sat down. “I need to get back out there and keep looking for Archer but if I can’t do that I can at least help comfort others. It’s what he’d be doing right now if he could.”

  “I understand how you must feel, Jessica. You’re welcome to hang around and pray as long as you wish.”

  “Thanks. Archer’s parents will be here to take me home this afternoon. In the meantime I’ll check in periodically with the nurses on the patient floor.” She grimaced. “Last night I had so many visitors from the church the nurses had to shoo them out to get anything done. I caught Mrs. Netz questioning one of the aides about my condition. Do you think there’s any chance that we’ll be able to keep the—” she glanced over her shoulder toward the open doorway, then looked back at him—”my situation a secret?”

  Grant thought about all the times in the past year that he’d made heroic efforts to ensure patient confidentiality in the emergency department. “It’s possible, Jessica, but to be honest you know how thin these walls are. One consolation I can offer you is that if word does get out, you still don’t have to tell them anything. It will only be rumor and everybody knows they can’t count on rumors to be factual.”

  She gave a distracted nod. “It might seem silly to some people that I’m determined that Archer be the very next person to know about his baby. I think he has that right.”

  “And I think he’s very fortunate to have a wife who loves him the way you do.” Grant thought about that final conversation he’d had with Archer Friday night. “He knows it, too, Jessica. When we spoke together, he was making arrangements to lighten his chaplain call time so he could spend more time with you.”

  She nodded then looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m still trying to convince myself that I’ll even see him again this side of heaven. I overheard two of the deacons guessing how far Archer might have been washed downriver.”

  Grant swallowed a sharp remark about the carelessness of those deacons. “What makes them think he was even in the river?”

  “The car—”

  “They’re making too many assumptions. All we know is that he didn’t make it to the Eddingly place Friday night and that the car went in the river at some point and he wasn’t in it when it was found. For the rest of the story we’ll have to depend on Archer to tell us about it when he gets home.”

  “You know Grant, you’re beginning to sound a lot like Lauren.”

  “Thank you.” He stopped short of apologizing to her for sending Archer out on that errand in the first place. There would be time for apologies later.

  “Do you feel like praying with another patient?” he asked instead.

  “I’d love to.”

  ***

  The smoky aroma of sausage permeated the air as Lauren carried her tray to the far window table in the hospital cafeteria.

  Gina Drake’s bright hair glowed red-gold in the light that streamed in. Leave it to Gina to find a table as far away from other diners as possible—the two of them seldom had time to eat together lately and Gina was particularly paranoid about the hospital rumor mill.

  Gina shoved a chair back for Lauren, toe tapping impatiently. “Gotta eat fast today.” She tossed some fries onto Lauren’s plate. “You keep living on lettuce you’ll lose all those great curves.”

  “I am not living on lettuce.”

  “I only have thirty minutes today. I’m telling you, we need more help in Respiratory. We barely get breaks anymore. Want to blow off the ER and join us?”

  “Sure, Gina. You make it sound so appealing.”

  Gina tossed another fry at her. “It isn’t usually this bad.”

  Lauren leaned back and looked around the dining area. It was typically busy at this time of day. Hospital personnel scheduled their breaks around the needs of the patients. Like Gina, if they didn’t eat quickly sometimes they missed a meal.

  Lauren poured dressing over her salad while Gina picked up her steak burger.

  “Okay, what’s bugging you?” Gina asked. “Or to put it bluntly, give me the latest details in the saga of the Sheldons.”

  Lauren chuckled. “They haven’t changed.”

  “How’s it going with them? Seriously.”

  Lauren opened a packet of crackers and waved at Becky as she walked by. “Maybe a little uncomfortable right now.”

  “But I thought you and Grant—”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love them. It’s just an adjustment trying to fulfill the expectations of so many people at once—and believe me, every one of them has different expectations.”

  “It’s amazing how members of the same family can be so different.” Gina doused a fry with mustard—her latest concession to weight management. “Are you implying that you might not mind being a par
t of that family?”

  Lauren nodded.

  “Permanently?”

  “I’m still arguing with myself.”

  “Take my advice and keep arguing until you’ve got it all straight in your head. You don’t want to end up like me. You do not want to try raising kids without any help.”

  Lauren knew that wouldn’t happen with Grant.

  “But if you want my opinion,” Gina said, “I think you’ve got a big enough heart to love Grant and those kids the way they need to be loved.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You love me and my kids. You stood by me when I needed a friend.”

  “That isn’t the same.”

  “Love is love.” Gina shrugged. “When you’re in church with Brooke and Beau it’s like they’re connected to you by remote. Either I hear Brooke talking about something you said or Beau mentions working with you. Those are some pretty special kids and they think you’re pretty special.”

  “I still don’t think I have what it takes to be their mother.”

  “Why should you expect to be their mother? You’re already their friend.”

  Lauren thought about that. “There was a time I thought I would have enjoyed Annette Sheldon’s friendship. Just listening to her family talk about her, I couldn’t help admiring her.”

  “It sounds as if she’d be in good company,” Gina said.

  “I love it when Brooke comes to my house and plops down on my couch like she lives there and yet there are times I feel threatened by a ghost. My life is being taken over by people I’m growing to love more each day.”

  “Take my word for it, you’re hooked.” Gina’s gaze focused on the cafeteria entrance. She put her half-finished burger on the plate.

  Lauren looked. Todd Lennard entered with an attractive young tech from radiology. They appeared to be a little more than friendly.

  Gina sighed, closing her eyes. “I’m so glad you stopped me before I made a fool of myself over him.”

  “You made the right decision but I thought he went back to his wife and kids.”

  “Sure he did but being married didn’t stop him before so why start now?”

  Todd glanced toward them and Gina looked away. “Maybe I won’t get another chance but you have one staring straight at you. Just make sure it’s right and then go for it.”

  “I will.” Lauren reached for Gina’s hand and squeezed it. “Your day will come.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Monday evening when Grant drove past the front of Mitchell Caine’s clinic the building seemed to hover in the shadows between pools of light from the street lamps on either side of it. He turned at the next intersection and circled back around the clinic property. The security system, which ordinarily illuminated the entire building to discourage would-be miscreants, had apparently not been engaged yet. As he slowed and turned the corner, light spilled from the windows of Mitchell’s private office.

  Willing away his own misgivings, Grant pulled into the deserted staff parking area. Mitchell had a private garage and a private entrance at the back of the building.

  Soon after coming to Dogwood Springs, Grant had discovered that Dr. Mitchell Caine had a love-hate relationship with authority—he loved having it, hated to see it in others. When Grant made a few changes in staffing and scheduling, Mitchell had been very unhappy. Since he was chief of medical staff for the hospital at the time, what might have ordinarily been minor conflicts escalated into small-scale wars on a couple of occasions.

  Now, however, Mitchell no longer had the responsibility of Chief of Staff. Everyone was relieved by that. Even Mitchell, if Grant’s guess was right.

  Grant never needed to guess where he stood with Mitchell because if the man was unhappy he would express his displeasure immediately and at length. Sadly, Grant had seldom heard him express joy although Beau had commented a time or two that Dr. Caine had complimented him on his work as a tech in the emergency department.

  Difficult to imagine.

  To Grant’s surprise, however, in spite of Mitchell’s detached demeanor and abrasive attempts to gain authority the man had occasionally revealed signs of tenderness. Unfortunately, he seemed ashamed of that tenderness. He had a particular soft spot for unwed teenaged mothers as well as an apparent soft spot for Beau.

  Grant went to the main clinic entrance and tried the door. It was locked, of course. He stepped through the shadows around to the back entrance. Through a gap in the vertical blinds he saw Mitchell seated at his elegant mahogany desk.

  He was staring at the wall across from him. His silver blond hair looked slightly ruffled, the winged arch of his eyebrows drawn low over brooding eyes. He wore the standard uniform of a gray-and-white striped dress shirt with tie and slacks. His broad shoulders were slumped.

  Grant knocked on the door. Mitchell didn’t even look around.

  Grant knocked again, this time harder and longer. “Dr. Caine, I need to speak with you please,” he called through the window.

  At last Mitchell turned and met his gaze. He got up and stepped out of view of the window.

  Lately Grant had sensed something wrong with Mitchell—something more wrong than usual. They had never been the best of friends but for the past few weeks Mitchell had barely looked him in the eyes. There was no animosity that Grant could see. Just avoidance. Mitchell avoided him entirely except when they were forced to interact on a patient case.

  Grant felt uncomfortable about this visit. Who was he to pass judgment on someone else’s reaction to personal problems? And yet, maybe it was specifically because of his own experience that he could do this with a clear conscience—because he had been through the bad times and he knew how inappropriate behavior might affect a patient.

  Also, as emergency department director, Grant was responsible for the welfare of the patients Mitchell treated when on duty there. He could be liable for any mistakes Mitchell made if he knew something was wrong with him and didn’t take steps to make things right.

  There was the sound of a lock turning and then Mitchell pulled open the door. His expression was one of detached interest. “Dr. Sheldon? What can I do for you?”

  “I need to speak with you. May I come inside?”

  Mitchell hesitated. “Will it take long? I’d like to get home.”

  “I’m sorry. I attempted to reach you earlier but didn’t have a lot of luck.”

  With obvious reluctance, Mitchell stood back and allowed Grant to enter. He gestured for Grant to be seated in an elegant Victorian chair.

  “I’ll try not to keep you long.” Grant settled into the surprisingly comfortable cushion. “When I attempted to contact you at home I spoke with your daughter.”

  Mitchell’s gaze flicked surprise. He covered it by circling the desk and seating himself behind it as if to allow the expanse of it to separate them. “What can I do for you?”

  He obviously wasn’t interested in talking about Trisha. “First,” Grant said, “I’d like to discuss Mimi Peterson.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s suing me,” Mitchell drawled.

  “No, but I think her case could use further research.”

  “I’ve seen the reports generated to this office at least three times recently and I saw nothing outstanding,” Mitchell said. “It seems as if you and others have already taken it upon yourselves to do that research so why should I duplicate what you’ve done?”

  “Because unless you’ve released her from your service or she’s requested a transfer of her medical records you’re still her primary physician. I’m telling you as one professional to another that further scrutiny is warranted. There’s more going on here than simple drug seeking.”

  “Are you sure about that or are you allowing her to manipulate you?” Mitchell asked.

  Grant pulled his folded copies of the lab reports out of his shirt pocket and got up to hand them to Mitchell.

  “Read the results of the test.”

  Mitchell frowned and looked at the rep
ort. “You tested her blood PBG levels?”

  “I’ve been doing some research on acute intermittent porphyria.”

  “Come on, Grant. You’re looking for zebras amongst the horses. You know how rare that is.”

  “Her records show she’s has had sulfonamide antibiotics prescribed to her in the recent past and has also had considerable weight loss and has taken barbiturates, all of which can precipitate the disorder. I’ve also found that since the disorder affects the hemoglobin the treatment for it is IV heme.”

  Grant waited while Mitchell studied the sheets.

  Mitchell looked up and Grant saw a barely detectable change in the doctor’s expression. Was that a spark of professional interest in those eyes?

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to pull her file.” Mitchell strode from the room.

  Grant sat back, satisfied that Mimi might now have a better chance of successful treatment. That was the bright side of this visit. The dark side was still to come.

  ***

  Archer listened to the spatter of rain on the surface of the river inches from his crumbling shelter. He no longer had much concept of time but he estimated that he’d been without food for two or three days. Thank goodness he’d eaten so heartily Friday night before attending the deacons meeting.

  If the river continued to rise his shelter would collapse completely. Even if he could move his legs without excruciating pain he couldn’t swim in the maelstrom that he heard floating past him in the darkness.

  It would take another miracle for him to escape this alive. He had never felt so helpless.

  The earth continued to crumble slowly down on top of him, and he lay in an ever-rising pool of river water. He could do nothing about it.

  His mother once told him that the secret to having faith was to stay in constant connection with God through prayer.

  His eyes stung with tears. “Jessica... Mom and Dad... the church. They must all think I’m dead. Give them peace, Lord. Please don’t let Jessica carry this burden alone. Remind her that she belongs to you.”

  He continued to pray, desperate for that connection with God. Talking faster and faster, he named his family members and his friends. He named everyone he could think of in the church and patients with whom he had prayed in the recent past.