Our food comes just as he begins. Between bites of the most flavorful chicken and noodles I’ve ever tasted, we pass information, tidbits about ourselves, back and forth. He’s a skilled conversationalist, and I realize it’s because he interviews people to write about for his work. He tells me he’s actually writing a book as well as doing some investigative reporting, the book being a special project funded by federal grant money to uncover Medicare fraud throughout the southwestern United States.
“That’s interesting! Are you finding much, yet? I’ve always worked in a hospital environment and have never seen anything suspicious at all. Do you think much fraud actually goes on?” My questions tumble on top of each other. I’m fascinated by his work.
“You’d be surprised,” he says, then launches into all the different ways fraud can occur. It sounds sinister and evil, but I’m sure nothing much like that ever happens in the world I know. It’s intriguing to me that anything like that goes on at all.
All too soon, our meeting date is over. I can’t believe how much I’ve enjoyed talking with Stan. Now I feel awkward, wondering what happens next, happy that he didn’t morph into a snake, or any other undesirable critter, and desperately hoping he likes me as much as I like him. He walks me out of the restaurant and to my car where he surprises me with a brief, appropriate hug, planting the brush of a kiss on my cheek.
“I’d like to see you again,” he says easily. I give him my phone number. “I’ll give you mine, too. I’ll call you, but feel free to call me, also.” I nod. My heart goes pitter-patter as he personally programs his number into my cell phone.
Afterwards, I sit inside my car and wait for my heart to settle down. I watch him drive away, his kind face behind the wheel of a brand new black Toyota SUV. I know it’s brand new because the registration paper is still taped to the front windshield.
Chapter Seventeen
My lunch date with Stan has totally distracted me, so much so that I’ve temporarily forgotten about Jared until I’m in the produce aisle of the grocery store putting celery into my cart. At first I don’t recognize the strange ring-tone coming from my pocketbook.
“Hello, Jared Wise’s phone,” I say tentatively, wondering what to expect.
“Oh, finally… I need to speak to Jared,” the female voice says. Palpable relief pulses from her voice into my ear.
“I’m sorry, but Jared isn’t here. I mean I have his phone, I just got it this morning. Who’s calling, please?” I ask. I really don’t know how I should handle this call. After all, it’s meant for Jared, and the person asking probably doesn’t even know he’s been in the accident. Certainly, she doesn’t know who I am.
“Who are you?” comes the crisp response, as if on cue.
“My name is Connie Harrison, and I’m Jared’s friend. I’m sorry to tell you, but Jared’s been in a car wreck,” I begin.
“A car wreck! Oh my God, please tell me Jared’s okay. I’ve been trying to reach him for a while now. Where is he?” She says her name is Maggie Martin and she’s like a close relative, though she’s quick to explain not a blood relative, that Jared only has Pappy for a blood relative. “I’m in Boston,” she says. “I canceled a Caribbean cruise because I’ve been so worried about Jared. I can catch the next flight out.” Maggie is crying into the phone Obviously, she cares very much.
“I think that Jared’s Aunt Margaret is handling Jared’s business from Europe. She’s hired a personal care team to take care of him at home. His phone was…” My one-sided conversation is interrupted.
“Jared doesn’t have an Aunt Margaret from Europe! Who are you, anyway?” She’s shouting at me. I push my grocery cart out of the crowded aisle and take the call to a quiet corner between cookies and bread.
“I’m so sorry. I was in the accident with Jared, but I wasn’t badly hurt. His phone had gotten lost. Garth, a stranger, found it last night. I just got it from him a few hours ago and plan to take it to Jared’s house this afternoon. I just haven’t gotten there yet. I honestly don’t know if Jared can talk on the phone or not because I haven’t seen him since he was discharged from ICU.”
“ICU! He’s that badly injured. Oh my God…” Maggie’s voice trails off into a torrent of sobs.
“I’m so sorry. I’m a nurse,” I say, although I don’t know why. She wouldn’t care about that. “I’m taking care of his cat, Isabella,” I say then, as if that might make more sense to her. Oh, why haven’t I gone to see Jared before now? At least then I’d have something to tell her about his condition.
Maggie seems to derive some amount of comfort on hearing that I have Isabella. “Take Isabella with you when you bring the phone over. Jared loves her so much. He’ll want her with him,” she instructs.
I agree to take the phone and Isabella to Jared’s house after I finish my shopping. I can’t bare the thought of giving Izzy up, but she is his cat, after all. I’m only Isabella’s temporary guardian. Before I hang up I give Maggie my cell phone number to call if she has any further questions of me.
I’m at the checkout counter paying the clerk when Jared’s phone rings again. At the same time, my cell phone rings. I’m flustered about which call to take, then choose Jared’s. “Please, hold one second,” I say so I can grab my own phone. I have no idea who’s on the line. I see that Maggie Martin is calling me back on mine.
“Hi Maggie, it really is the right number.” I figure she probably thought I wasn’t genuine and wanted to make sure. Instead she asks me to search Jared’s phone and give her the phone number of Bradley Lawton. I explain that I have another call on hold on Jared’s phone. The clerk throws me a look of annoyance and points to the people in the checkout line stacking up behind me. I put both calls on hold, pay the man for my groceries, and the push my cart aside again so I can juggle Jared’s business.
By the time I load the groceries into my trunk, I feel scattered and incompetent. Maggie has bossed me over the top. On the other phone, Jared’s neighbor, Lydia Collins, has asked me to check her house next door to Jared’s and call her back later with a report on how Jared is doing. I’ve given Bradley Lawton’s number over to Maggie. It’s only now that I can ponder the mystery. If Jared doesn’t have a Aunt Margaret in Europe, who has hired the caregivers?
I’m still pondering this mystery when I arrive home to unload my groceries and gather up Isabella. I sort through the bags separating out the perishables, which I throw into the refrigerator. I leave the rest of the groceries in the bags on the counter. “Come on, Izzy,” I say, picking her up from where she is sleeping on the couch. “You’re going home to your Daddy, now.” I rumple her fur just before loading her into her carry case. I’m sure gonna miss her, but I don’t want to think about that right now.
Dr. Matthews is just leaving as I’m arriving at Jared’s house. I practically bump into him on the sidewalk. “How’s he doing?” I ask after greeting him in the New England way, by exchanging brief pleasantries.
“Well, his bones are healing well, and the traumatic injuries are all improving, but he’s still slow to respond. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on there. I’m going to take the conservative approach and give it a little more time, but I might need to run another brain scan if he doesn’t wake up more fully in the next couple days. You’re looking well. Over the effects of the accident?” he asks, changing the subject.
I tell him about the state of my health, which is good, and then about the job offer I accepted at Pacific West Hospital. He says if I change my mind to call him. He’s planning to expand his office and still needs to hire more nurses.
I thank him, and then say, “I got a call from someone in Boston who says she knows Jared well, and that he doesn’t have an Aunt Margaret in Europe.”
“Hmmm, Jared’s friend Bradley Lawton told me the same thing this morning. It’s puzzling, but all the paperwork was faxed to my office before Jared’s discharge saying she has the rights. It all looked legitimate to me,” he says, dismissing my concern, though his clouded
eyes suggest more.
“Well, I’d better get inside. I have Jared’s cell phone and his cat to bring him,” I say.
Marta Lewski answers the door looking both smart and professional, wearing green, white trimmed scrubs. He hair is pulled back with another attractive clip. The sun, shining through the front door, bounces off the loose curls tumbling on top, making her highlights shine. I suddenly feel frumpy and unkempt in comparison, though I’m wearing my casual date slacks and a silk, rose-colored blouse, an outfit that usually makes me feel pretty and fresh. Oh well, I remind myself, it’s not beauty contest.
Before I say anything, Marta points to the cat. “Can’t bring that flea bitten thing inside. I’m allergic,” she says harshly.
“It’s Jared’s cat, Isabella. I think he wants to see her,” I say. “I need to see him, too.” Suddenly, I don’t like her at all. And, Isabella doesn’t have fleas!
She stands blocking the doorway. “He’s sleeping. The doctor was just here and doesn’t want him having visitors, yet,” she says, almost closing the door in my face.
“Wait, I just saw Dr. Matthews. He said I could visit.” It’s not quite true, but he didn’t say I couldn’t. If Jared isn’t allowed visitors, he would have said so, I’m sure of it. I take an aggressive step forward, wondering why Marta is suddenly so hostile towards me. She’s never been kind, but this is especially rude.
Marta’s eyes shift to the sidewalk where a woman pushes a baby carriage past the house. While she obviously isn’t interested in making me her friend, she clearly doesn’t want to cause a scene, either. “Only for a minute, then. Not the cat. Leave the cat out here,” she says brusquely.
“No, I’m bringing Isabella in to visit Jared. Dr. Matthews thinks it might do him some good,” I lie. “Don’t worry, I’ll take her back home with me when I go.”
She doesn’t argue with me, just looks displeased, and leads me to Jared’s room where he appears to be sleeping soundly. Surprisingly, she leaves me alone with Jared.
“Hi Jared,” I say softly, stroking his arm with a gentle touch. “I’ve brought Isabella to visit.” Just then, Jared’s cell phone rings. I still haven’t gotten used to the jangling ring tone.
Jared’s eyes open to the sound. I look at the caller ID and tell Jared the name I see is Art Wilkinson. I talk briefly to the caller, explain who I am, and put the phone to Jared’s ear. I can hear Art Wilkinson say something to Jared about tennis. Jared makes some unintelligible sounds, so I take the phone away and tell Wilkinson about Jared’s condition. I promise to call him later with more information.
Jared closes his eyes again. When he does, I pull up the bedside chair and simply talk to him. I tell him what Dr. Matthews has said about his condition. I tell him about Isabella and what she likes and doesn’t like about living with me. Then, I tell him about Maggie’s call, that she wants to come, but that his Aunt Margaret is the one calling all the shots.
Jared’s eyes pop wide open. He struggles to speak, “Maggie come,” he manages to articulate. “Help Maggie.” I’m sure that’s what he says, though difficult to understand. He almost looks like a ragged madman, his face contorting so intensely trying to make me understand. I hold the water cup up and offer him the straw. He sips. “No Aunt,” he whispers, before closing his eyes again. In the next instant he appears to be in the sleep of the dead again. Alarmed, I check him for pulse and respirations and find the numbers within normal limits despite being weak and slow. I realize that he might be over medicated.
Looking around, I see the prescription bottles on the dresser, so I walk over to examine them. Why does he need anti-anxiety pills and sedatives when Dr. Matthews wants him more wakeful? Then I notice that those particular pills have a different doctor’s name on the label. I make a mental note to mention it to Dr. Matthews. Sometimes when a patient has more than one attending they write conflicting orders if they don’t communicate regularly. I suspect that’s what has happened here.
Isabella meows and arches her back. There’s not a lot of room in her carrier. I’m sure she understands that Jared isn’t doing well. Of course, I won’t leave her here. I feel something sinking and dreadful in the pit of my stomach. I know something is terribly wrong. I’m worried, things aren’t adding up, but I can’t put my finger on why. I never even take Isabella out of the cat carrier.
I put Jared’s cell phone back in my pocketbook. I’ll give it to Maggie. I don’t quite trust Marta, and Jared is in no kind of shape to manage his own affairs right now. I sure hope Maggie is on the up and up because I’m very sure that Jared’s Aunt Margaret is not. It’s puzzling.
I walk to the front of the house with caution after saying good-bye to Jared. I’m actually afraid. I don’t want Marta to see my fear. I know better than to trust her. I decide to fake my emotions, so when I see her I smile and say, “Jared seems to be sleeping peacefully. You take such good care of him.” I don’t want her to know I’m really thinking she’s a bitch, a dreadful witch, and up to no good.
I have no idea what is really going on, no idea at all.
Chapter Eighteen
Marta Lewski stood scowling in the doorway until she saw Connie’s car disappear around the corner. “Shit, shit, shit,” she mumbled, twisting her trembling hands together. The last thing she’d expected was to see that twit at the door this afternoon, and especially not running into Dr. Matthews.
“Julius! Julius!” she hollered until the middle-aged, balding man bounded out of the room he called his office.
“What now?” he snapped, obviously irritated at being pulled away from the baseball game he’d been watching on TV. The San Francisco Giants were ahead seven to six.
“We have to do something. Now! That nurse came to see Jared. I don’t trust her. Oh my God…” She was all out shaking now as she rushed into Jared’s bedroom with Julius hustling to keep up with her.
“What’s got you in such a tizzy? You want me to do something about that nurse?”
Marta busied herself rummaging through the drugs stored in clear view on top of the dresser. “We have to do something about this! We have to get the Pacific West doctors off the case. I don’t think they saw the prescription bottles with your name on them, but if they did, we’ll be fried. What should we do? I didn’t count on them meddling.”
“First of all, we’re covered on everything. No problem getting Matthews off the case. We have all the paperwork we need. Aunt Margaret can fire him and put me fully in charge. It’s no problem,” he said, looking smug. “I’ve already got prescription pads, pharmacy codes, and office letterhead in my name. See, Dr. Julius Fenway,” he said, pulling out different prescription vials from inside the top drawer. I’ve already stocked our medicine cabinet here. I talked with the Pharmacist at Arthur’s Drugstore this morning. I faxed him my credentials. We’re covered. See, I’m way ahead of you.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Marta said, still angry, “You’re not really a doctor and Jared really is a patient. Don’t forget he just got out of ICU. He’s going to need diagnostic tests and other procedures. What are you going to do then? Your fake credentials don’t know how to examine the patient!”
“You’re a nurse. You can just tell me. I’ll order whatever tests you want.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Marta mumbled, feeling totally out of control. “Jared can’t die, you idiot. I have to work this methodically, make him totally and completely dependent on me. I’m already over drugging him just to keep him confused. This is going to take time. What if I can’t wake him back up?”
“I’m ahead of you on that, too,” Julius said, reaching again into the drawer of drugs. He pulled out a package of prefilled syringes and handed them to Marta. “Awakcan,” she said with surprise. “Where did you get this? It’s still experimental.”
“Antoni told me about it when I talked to him yesterday morning. He sent me some special delivery. See, you don’t think I do anything around here. Well, Antoni’s already got the computers hacked and swit
ched. He told me that Awakcan is the new sedative antagonist they use with their drug overdoses. It’s approved everywhere except in the United States. You know how the FDA is here. It’d take forever to get something like this little miracle approved in this country. You can just use this stuff when you want to wake Jared up after you’ve over medicated him. You’ll be able to keep him good and confused, high and low in a moment.”
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