by Barbara Ebel
“Your note from the patient’s last office visit,” Stewart said, “clearly reads: MRI negative. Impression, it states: patient’s symptoms not neurological, perhaps psychiatric. Plan: no further evaluation, patient to return prn.” She looked at Danny. “That means to return when and if needed, correct?”
“Yes,” Danny said.
“The MRI radiologist’s report is also here on the chart, which I am sure you have read since the allegations.”
“But, usually we read the MRI or CT independent of the radiologist. We are experts reading these, and since we deal more thoroughly with the brain than they do, we can read them better. I had the MRI before the radiologist’s report, which is often the case.”
“So Dr. Tilson, let me get this straight. If you are smarter than a radiologist, then why weren’t you smart enough to make the diagnosis based on radiologic evidence?”
“Look, whose side are you on anyway?” he asked, rolling a pen along the table.
“Just trying to play devil’s advocate,” Richard said.
“Just trying to see how composed you would be under cross-examination,” Stewart said.
“This isn’t a neurosurgeon’s arena anyway, this case,” Danny said. “We don’t operate on or treat for MS, so it wasn’t my job. Patients with multiple sclerosis are treated by neurologists.”
“But certainly, like you said, neurosurgeons are savvy with head images,” Stewart said. “It was your job to at least suspect MS by the, err, what do you call them, plaques, and refer the patient immediately to a neurologist.”
“But you were busy leaving your wife of how many years? Because of irreconcilable differences?” Richard asked. “Or at least we hope that was the reason.”
Danny shot up from his seat, and leaned over the conference table.
Bruce, Stewart, and Richard stared blankly at him and then Stewart tapped her pen on the polished surface. “Like we said, Dr. Tilson, we are ascertaining what the plaintiff’s attorney can do to you.”
________
As Danny gathered his brief case and coat from his office an hour later, Bruce appeared in the doorway dressed in a long dark coat. “Good night,” he said.
“Good night,” Danny replied. Bruce scowled.
“The cost of our malpractice policy better not go up.”
“I know. We’ve had clean records until now.” Bruce had already told him twice.
________
On the way home, Danny called Rachel. “I’m going to my apartment. Will you come spend the night?”
“I’ll be there, Dakota in tow.”
Danny straightened his bed sheets while waiting for her, and then ripped open two days of mail. One envelope had the return address of his attorney. Mark Cunningham had forwarded correspondence he had received from Tom Werner’s office.
You are maliciously late in child support and alimony. You are proving yourself noncompliant right away; you risk a motion for contempt of court. We will garnish your wages if payment is not received in this office in several days. Blah, blah, blah to the bottom of the eleven-inch white page, barely leaving room for Jim Dorsey’s signature and name.
Danny snapped open a beer can, slugged some down, and paced the room. Why did they have to mail such a mean letter? All Sara or her attorney should have done was to ask him or remind him.
________
In the meantime, Rachel gathered a shoulder bag and an overnight duffel bag from her front seat. She took Dakota’s leash in her free hand and quickly spun him for a walk around the building, avoiding landscape lighting. Several bushes made ample fire hydrants and Dakota readily cooperated, but before she could sneak away, the man who had previously cited apartment pet rules to her had exited the office door.
“Miss, I thought I told you before, dogs can’t stay here.”
His proximity was too close to act deaf, she could see his cold breath. “I’m just walking him,” she said, offended. “I’m leaving.”
The man pulled a cap over his ears; he walked away in a different direction. With Dakota’s leash held taut, Rachel quickly pranced the two of them into Danny’s apartment. Dakota bumped Danny, pressing him for acknowledgement, while Rachel placed her bag on the counter and slipped her leather gloves inside.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked. “Nothing’s gone sour with your business partners, has it?”
“No,” he frowned. He unsnapped Dakota’s leash and put it next to Rachel’s bag. He kissed her while pressing his palms behind her head, reining her in for the moistness of her lips and juicy curves.
“Let’s just cozy up together on the couch,” Rachel said as they parted. “I’m so tired, you’ll have to do all the channel surfing.”
Chapter 21
Rachel counted instruments and lap sponges with the circulating nurse, while Danny finished the surgery closure, his last case before afternoon patients. The office was closing at 3 p.m., a considerate gesture from Bruce, to give staff an early day for mall shopping the last Friday before Christmas. Danny wanted to shop for the girls and Mary, as well as Rachel. He had given it much thought; to buy a moderate length chain with a diamond, to sparkle like angel dust around Rachel’s neck. He looked over at her aqua eyes.
She glanced back. “It was very nice working with you, Dr. Tilson.”
“Why, likewise, it always is.”He snapped off latex gloves while the anesthesiologist unclutched the table foot brake, and swung the head of the OR table towards her machine and medical equipment.
________
“Stewart and Richard just called,” Bruce said later in the office, while pouring old coffee into the sink. “Your deposition will take place here next week. Do your homework beforehand, please, and reread the patient’s chart. It probably wouldn’t hurt if you read about MS this weekend, either.”
Danny nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.” He fitted a fresh filter into the coffeemaker. Both men peeked in the cabinet and agreed on a New Orleans chicory blend; Danny filled the filter two-thirds, poured in water, and pressed the power button.
________
At sunset, as artificial light illuminated the concrete parking lot, Danny quickly stepped into the indoor mall near Opryland. Red, green, and white strung lights hung on artificial trees and Christmas music blared. He passed a line of elementary school children, with tired parents, waiting in line to see a plump Santa Claus. He stopped at a kiosk to admire women’s bags; perfect, he thought, for Nancy and Annabel, even Mary. He purchased sporty but functional taupe, sandalwood, and navy woven purses. In the next aisle, he bought them each matching wool hats, gloves, and scarves. Casey had taught him how to shop for women after all.
Nearby, he went to the first counter of an international jewelry store, browsing at necklaces. He skipped the beads, pearls, and birthstones and found a variety of gold chains and chokers. A woman came to help, telling him her own likes and dislikes. He put his selection on credit, almost five hundred dollars for a flat choker, with a gold triangle in front with a diamond. It certainly wasn’t a minor gift. Under his new circumstances, the price was hefty.
________
Rachel gave Dakota a walk before they piled into her car; she placed him all the way in the back, avoiding boxes, bags and suitcases already there. “Wait here,” she said, and cracked the window. She walked into the townhouse office to take care of business, wished them happy holidays, and headed to Danny’s apartment. He had told her he wouldn’t be home until eight that night, but she could make herself comfortable beforehand. He would even bring in a pepperoni pizza; they could unwind with a movie.
Before getting out of the car, Rachel stuck Danny’s key into her pocket. She pulled the corduroy collar of her sporty jacket around her neck, grabbed Dakota’s leash, and stepped out into a gust of wind. The temperature had dipped to the lowest of the season so far. She’d been a southern girl all her life so she didn’t welcome a freezing wind chill, but it was a different story for her dog whose breed hunted waterfowl in icy, rugged
conditions. They could retrieve in the most strenuous conditions, face wind and swim in tides, break ice with their powerful chests. The colder the temperature, the friskier the dog.
She opened the hatchback to leash him, then hurriedly jogged to Danny’s apartment door while Dakota jumped up, trying to grab the end of his red leash. “It’s not a good time to try and walk yourself,” Rachel said. The dog wanted no part in obeying her; he continued springing up to hold the leash end himself, like the tenderness to hold fowl instilled in his genes.
Rachel dug the key out and opened the door. When they went in, she unsnapped him, and ducked back out and ran to her car. She picked up a medium-sized bag of Purina and an aluminum bowl.
Dakota considered the thick leash on the chair. He clasped it in his jaw and ran around the table with kinetic energy mounting like a storm. He let go of it when his amber eyes spied a potential raceway - the wooden floor to the back bedroom. His hindquarters tucked lower than his shoulders, and gathering momentum, he lurched ahead. Well-webbed paws zoomed along the hardwood surface, now a formula 1 racetrack, bedroom in sight. Once he arrived at the doorway, there was no stopping him. The powerfully built Chessie plummeted full force into Danny’s bed, vaulting on to it with such brute muscle that the mattress moved, sliding further into the headboard as well as shifting sideways. He pawed at the bedspread, clumping it towards the middle. He circled to survey his efforts, gave it one last raking, and plopped into his berth.
Once back inside, Rachel eyed the red leash strewn over the floor, and placed the dried food bag and bowl on the counter. She cupped her hands over her mouth while exhaling to warm them, found a pen and a pad advertising an anti-seizure medication, and wrote Danny a note.
Rachel walked to the rear, wondering where Dakota had disappeared. At the doorway, she chuckled at the sight: he was rounded into a ball; intelligently closing his eyes to sway her into thinking he was asleep.
Rachel stepped closer to the corner of the box spring, where the mattress was jimmied off its top.
“What’s this?” she said, yanking the mattress up to get a better view of a wedged burgundy leather case. She pulled it out and sat on the tossed bed near Dakota, who didn’t budge. She ran her warmed fingers over dark blocked monogramming: DT.
Rachel opened the closure then tilted it to slide out the contents: a book and a baggie with a bracelet fell out. A very nice bracelet. She felt the smoothness of the gems; she could live with this color, or better yet, she could save the jewelry for later.
But why would anyone hide a stupid book? It looked old due to its dull binding color; she never saw books made like that anymore. She picked it up. Relativity: The Special and the General Theory. Opening the cover, she read the title again as well as … by Albert Einstein. And right there, could it be? The gigantic genius’s own autograph? Now she knew why the slipcase was concealed out of sight. She glided the bracelet on her wrist and stuck the baggie back inside. She wondered if the book would fit into the deep wide pocket under the brown corduroy flap of her jacket so she stood to align the book to the outside size of the pocket. Yes. She correctly placed the leather case with Danny’s initials where she had found it.
Rachel walked to the other side of the bed. “Dakota, I’m sorry, boy. I need to disturb you.” Grabbing him by the collar, she coaxed him off, realigned the mattress on the box spring and straightened the bedspread. “Looks like you weren’t even here.”
She walked out of the backroom while Dakota reluctantly trotted after her. At the front door, she leaned over the dog to give him a kiss on his broad skull. “You’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.” She gave him one more acknowledgement by sinking her fingers into his curly top coat. “And thanks, Dakota, for the nice find.”
________
In the apartment breezeway, Danny unlocked his mailbox and took out advertisements and envelopes and dropped them into one of the Christmas shopping bags. He ducked into the office to pay his rent for next month so he wouldn’t forget. A woman ran a vacuum cleaner around a coffee table and smiled over at him as he pulled out his envelope with a check and dropped it in the payments box slot. A sign stood propped on the counter announcing that the office would close for two weeks over the holidays and gave a number in case of a maintenance emergency. Danny waved at the woman as he went back out the door. “If you see that elderly office manager, would you mind telling him that Dr. Tilson said to have a nice holiday?”
“He no here,” she said, wrapping the cord around the vacuum. “He go on vacation.”
“Good for him,” Danny said. “You have a pleasant holiday too.”
With the shopping parcels and bag set down, Danny felt for his key, but could have sworn he heard a few low barks inside. Dakota stopped barking as he swung open the door.
Danny put all his things on the coffee table to free his hands, then sat down to return Dakota’s rambunctious greeting. “Hey, boy, are you minding my place?” He patted the dog firmly, scratched the base of his tail as Dakota stretched his neck and mouthed the air in appreciation. “You know, I could get permanently used to you.”
The mail jutted out of the shopping bag, so Danny opened the first envelope, just a credit card solicitation. The second was a bulky manila envelope from Mark Cunningham. Much of the contents were typed documents regarding the divorce details they had worked out. The actual divorce papers to be signed were also included with a cover letter stating it was one of the fastest divorces Mark had seen for a surgeon. Danny unzipped his jacket, took a pen from his breast shirt pocket and signed underneath Sara’s signature. The last two pages of the packet were attorney bills, but there must have been a mistake. Danny’s bill was large enough, but Sara’s was inadvertently attached, it being the more expensive of the two.
Danny put the mail to the side, turned on the flat screen TV, and walked down the hallway to the bedroom. Perhaps, somehow, Rachel had not come over in her own car and was tucked in his bed taking a nap. But she wasn’t there, so he went to the refrigerator for a soda and found the number for takeout pizza. He dialed and asked for a large pepperoni. He gave the man directions, as well as his name, and spotted Rachel’s note.
“It’ll be twenty minutes,” said the voice on the other end, “and thirteen ninety-five.”
Danny hung up and leaned over. Elegant handwriting, as feminine as Rachel herself.
Dear Danny,
I’m leaving Nashville for a while. Have a nice holiday with your girls. Please take care of Dakota.
Love, Rachel
Danny read it three times, then again as he sat on the couch. He turned it over, wanting to see more words, an entire explanation. But there weren’t any. Beyond the paper in his hands, there were two big amber eyes gazing at him. “What do you know, Dakota? Did she go to her sister’s in Chicago?” The dog pressed his muzzle on Danny’s knee.
The pizza arrived semi-warm but dripping with oil, New York style, the way Danny liked it. He ate the first slice quickly, sipping a beer behind it, and then waved the crust at Dakota. “Dead dog,” Danny said. Dakota obeyed, then sprang up, and sat erect. “Gimme five,” Danny said. Dakota pranced both paws into the air, and then snapped down the chunk of pizza crust, bonding with Danny forever.
________
In the morning, Danny walked Dakota and mailed the signed divorce papers. He drove to the hospital late in the morning for rounds; Harold and Danny had split up the weekend call and Danny chose Saturday. After seeing patients and taking care of notes and orders he went to the lounge, poured fresh coffee, and thumbed through papers for the latest newspaper. He read a section of The Tennessean and occasionally glanced at television, which showed the newly elected President giving a speech. Would wise change come?
At two-thirty Danny left the lounge and went to the ER, to see if there were any potential neuro cases before he left and to check on Casey’s schedule. The ER was busy for an afternoon, but nothing that needed his evaluation. When Danny inquired about Casey’s whereabouts, the secretar
y at the desk pointed outside the glass doors to the ambulance.
The back doors of the truck were open. Casey buckled an empty stretcher, tidying the inside at the end of his shift. “Hey, stranger,” Danny said.
“Hey, you coming or going?”
“Leaving. If you don’t have plans, how about a late lunch or an early dinner? My treat when you’re finished. Downtown Italy.”
Casey beamed. “Sure thing. Mary and I don’t have any special dinner plans.”
“Meet you there,” Danny said.
________
Inside Downtown Italy, the linen-topped tables were aligned into several sitting areas for catered parties that evening. The maitre d’ showed Danny to a table for two near the entrance. He watched pedestrians walk briskly, sometimes stopping at decorated store fronts.
“Hope you didn’t wait too long,” Casey said when he entered. “I had forgotten. I promised a patient I would help him at the end of my shift.”
A stocky waiter politely interrupted to describe the special of the day.
“What did you do for him?” Danny asked when the waiter left.
“You’re not going to believe this one. Mark and I made an ambulance run today. We find this man in his house having a heart attack, clutching at his chest, pain running down his arm.” Casey paused, taking a sip of water. “We’re extracting as much information from him as we can while hooking him to oxygen, taking his vitals. While he’s grasping for air, he’s telling us, ‘Go to the bedroom closet. You gotta take the women’s clothes out of there.’ So Mark says ‘take your wife’s clothes out of the closet?’ The man shakes his head no, tells us his wife is away and the woman he’s having an affair with left clothes in their closet. His wife will find them if he’s taken to the hospital.” Casey unsnapped his cell phone from his belt and placed it aside. “I pointed out to him that we wouldn’t know his girlfriend’s clothes from his wife’s clothes.”