me she wasn’t working today,” Arley said.
“She wasn’t. She just came by the unit for something.”
“For what?” Doyle and Arley said in unison. The now wary Baron kept looking from one of them to the other.
“She…didn’t say. She just wanted to make sure Doyle got to his appointment—
make sure he remembered—make sure he had a ride. She didn’t mention what to tell a sister at all,” he said to Arley. “Sorry.”
“Well, you people are just no help whatsoever,” Arley said. “Come on, Scottie. Mrs. Bee said she’d find a cookie for you.”
“’Bye, Bugs,” the boy said, trotting off with his mother.
“Yeah, wild man. You take it easy.”
Doyle stood there, staring into space, trying to assess this latest development—
until Baron gave a discreet cough.
“What the hell do you want?” Doyle asked him.
“Cut me some slack, man. I’m just trying to get you where you’re supposed to be.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“Kate said you’d probably give me grief. And if you did, she wanted me to tell you one thing.”
Doyle stood waiting to hear what the “one thing” was—but the SOB was going to make him ask for it.
“Okay, what is it?” he said after a moment.
“She said, ‘Please.”’
“And?”
“And nothing. ‘Please.’ That was it.”
Doyle stared at him.
Please.
The one word that would get to him. He gave a sharp sigh.
“So are we going or not?” Baron asked, looking at his watch. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. If I drive like a bat out of hell, I can get you there.”
“Yeah, like a doctor was ever on time in this man’s army.”
“Does that mean you’re going?”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
“Outstanding,” Baron said, taking the liberty of pulling the apartment door closed.
“So is she married?”
“Who?” Doyle asked, still out of sorts. He had no idea what Kate was doing. He didn’t even have a clue. She dumps him…but she’s worried about him keeping his appointments. As she’d said once herself—
This is insane.
And the really insane part was that the rest of the Meehan girls didn’t know what was going on with her, either.
“The sister—Arley,” Baron said. “Is she married?”
“Do I look like a hook-up service?” Doyle said sarcastically.
“No, you look like hell—but who’s going to notice with that sunny disposition?”
“How did you get roped into this, anyway?” Doyle asked him as he hobbled out onto the porch.
“Damned if I know. Story of my life, though.”
For once the army doctor was on time. Doyle barely made it into the waiting area before his name was called. This doctor he knew. His name was Julius, and he’d done a number of Doyle’s surgeries.
“Damn,” Julius said in the hallway. “What happened to you?”
“Sir?” Doyle said, thinking maybe Baron hadn’t exaggerated when he said he looked like hell.
“Last time I saw you you could barely stand and you must have had a half a dozen dummy cords hooked to you so you wouldn’t lose everything you dropped.”
“Sir, I’ve been walking a lot.”
Among other things.
“Doing the physical therapy exercises they taught you?”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Also
among
other
things.
“And if you drop something on the floor, you can get it now?”
“Sir, yes, sir. No dummy cords, sir.”
“Good. Of course, this is going to tick off a certain hot-shot Texas orthopedic surgeon.”
“Sir?”
“You might as well know he and I had a difference of opinion about your rehabilitation.”
Doyle didn’t say anything.
“He did tell you he wanted to do surgery again.”
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“What do you think about that?”
“I think I’d rather burn in, sir,” Doyle said, using the term for a paratrooper’s fate when his chute didn’t open.
Julius laughed—when Doyle wasn’t particularly making a joke.
“Well, let’s don’t do that, okay? We might not get you put back together this time. How much pain are you having?”
“I’m not taking anything for it, sir.”
“That’s not exactly what I asked, but we’ll let it go. I want to get another film or two today—just to make sure there isn’t anything new going on. If it looks okay, I’m going to say you’ve dodged the bullet for the time being—and you can go in peace. For three months—unless you start having trouble. You know the drill by now. Keep walking. Keep exercising. Keep doing whatever you’ve been doing.”
“Sir, yes sir.”
I
wish.
“All right then. Dismissed.”
Kate,
Kate.
She’d been determined that he get here to talk to the surgeon who wasn’t all that gung-ho about dashing into the operating room. The news was good—excellent—and she’d gone out of her way to make sure he got it.
But he was no closer to understanding her than he’d been the other night. He stood for a moment in the hallway before he made up his mind about what he wanted to do. Then, with a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in some time, he headed for the floor where Kate worked. Plan A was to see if he couldn’t get something from one of her coworkers about where she was. He didn’t see anyone anywhere when he stepped off the elevator, but then he spotted a medic in a supply closet, counting bottles and boxes. Baron.
“I want to ask you something,” Doyle said when he looked up from the clipboard.
“What?”
“Do you have any idea where Kate is?”
“Me?
No.”
“She didn’t say anything besides what you told me.”
“No,” Baron said, going back to counting small white boxes.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m
sure.”
“Look, Baron, it’s important. I’m—” He stopped, trying to decide how candid he wanted to be. He took a deep breath. “I’m worried about her, man. So is her sister. You saw that. Kate’s important to me. If you know anything—anything at all, tell me.”
Baron stopped counting, but he didn’t say anything.
“Are you going to help me out or not?” Doyle asked.
“I don’t really know anything to tell you…except—”
“Except what?” Doyle asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
“It’s just something I overheard one of the nurses say.”
“What?”
“Something about Kate having to go get a repeat X-ray last Friday.”
Doyle felt the wind go out of him. “And?”
“That’s
it.”
“What kind of X-ray?”
“I don’t know. That’s all I heard. It may not mean anything…”
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks,” Doyle said absently.
But he was afraid he knew exactly what it meant.
“Mrs. Bee!” he yelled as soon as he cleared the screen door. Mrs. Bee came hurrying out of the kitchen, her hand resting on her chest.
“Calvin, you scared me!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Bee. I need to ask you something. Do you have any idea where Kate is?”
“No, Calvin. I haven’t seen her.”
“If you wanted to find her, where would you look?”
Mrs. Bee stood staring at him with her schoolteacher face on, and all he could do was tough it out.
“Is something wrong, Calvin?”
“Yeah. I need to talk to her.” He braced himself for the third degree, but thankfully Mrs. Bee didn’t as
k him anything. He could just hear himself trying to explain that Kate had dumped him, that she’d made him keep his clinic appointment and she’d had a repeat X-ray—so he had to find her.
“Well, I’d start with the sisters,” Mrs. Bee said after a moment.
“Arley says they don’t know where Kate is.”
“Well,
she might not.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it might be better to start with the weakest link.”
“I don’t know what that means, Mrs. Bee.”
“It means I can call Gwen…if you want me to.”
“Yeah, Mrs. Bee. That would be great.”
“All right. Let’s see what Gwen says. And don’t cramp my style. I work better alone.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, Mrs. Bee.”
He waited in the kitchen while she made the call. It took a while. The link must not have been as weak as Mrs. Bee thought.
“Did you find out anything? What did she say?” he asked, pouncing on the old lady as soon as he heard her hang up the receiver.
“I didn’t find out where Kate is—but I did find out that Gwen knows.”
“She knows? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. When I asked her where Kate was, she sounded like Porky Pig.”
“Porky
Pig?”
“Exactly. I didn’t teach school all those years not to know what that means.”
Doyle looked at her, more than a little lost.
“Do you think you can drive Thelma and Louise, Calvin?” Mrs. Bee abruptly asked. “I think you should take my car and drive over to Gwen’s and see if Katie is there. If she’s not, maybe you can talk Gwen into telling her something for you. What do you think?”
What he thought was that the unexpected offer to turn him loose with Thelma and Louise came close to making him sound like Porky Pig, too.
“I think I can drive the car, Mrs. Bee—but are you sure you want to trust me with it?”
“I’m sure. It’ll help your image.”
“My
image?”
“Katie knows what that car means to me. If she sees I let you drive it, she’ll know somebody thinks you’re worthy.”
“Or she’ll think I hog-tied you and took the keys,” he said, and Mrs. Bee laughed and swatted the air.
“Now, let’s see…where did I put those keys—oh, I know. I’ll be right back. You be thinking about what you need to say to Katie while I go get them.”
He had a lot of things he wanted to say, but there was only one thing that mattered.
I love you, Kate.
If he could just get that said and make her believe it, then maybe the rest of it would take care of itself.
Mrs. Bee came back with the keys and the directions to Gwen’s house written on a sheet of pink notebook paper. “Good luck,” she said when she handed them over.
He smiled suddenly. Some knights had white chargers. He had a vintage Thunderbird.
“Thanks, Mrs. Bee. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”
“I think I do, Calvin.”
“Well. Here goes nothing—keep your fingers crossed for me.”
“I
will.”
“The church ladies, too.”
“That goes without saying, Calvin.”
He headed purposefully toward the back door, then stopped.
“Mrs. Bee? I want to ask you something.”
“What is it, Calvin?”
“I want to ask you about Michael Mont. About why you told Kate I reminded you of that guy.”
Mrs. Bee smiled. “Because God made you merry, Calvin. And no matter what happens, you still think life is worthwhile.”
Mrs. Bee’s vision of him caught him completely off guard. Did he think life was worthwhile? Maybe he did. He had his down moments, but thus far he supposed that he hadn’t stayed down.
But he was on the verge of staying down now.
Kate!
If she was sick again…
He had to wait a minute before he trusted his voice enough to say anything.
“Thanks, Mrs. Bee,” he said finally.
“Go find Katie,” she said.
Chapter Twelve
He went on his quest with the top down and the radio blaring, letting the music get him pumped up and ready for the ordeal ahead.
“Never
surrender…”
Hell, no!
“Lover…
Best
friend…
In my heart, in my soul….”
He didn’t have any problem finding the house; Mrs. Bee had given him good directions. It was still daylight when he got there, but just barely. He didn’t see Kate’s car anywhere, and he briefly considered abandoning the mission.
But only briefly. Her car could be around back or in the garage. And even if she was there, there was no guarantee that she would talk to him. Either way, he might still have to concentrate on the “weakest link.”
He pulled into the driveway and parked. It took him a little while to get out of the car. He’d managed the driving part, but getting out of those low seats was something else again.
He saw someone move aside the curtain in a front window as he hobbled up the curved sidewalk to the front door. The brick steps to the porch were steep and precarious, but he managed. He looked around before he rang the doorbell. It was nice out here—
plants and an old-fashioned glider with big yellow-flowered cushions. It was the kind of place Kate would enjoy.
He rang the doorbell, and he imagined the emotional—if not physical—scramble his being here must be causing on the other side of the door. But right or wrong, he was here. This was it.
It took a while, but the front door finally opened.
“Cal!” Gwen said as if she were surprised. “What are you doing here!” From the look on her face, it was a question she regretted immediately. She had thrown the door wide open in more ways than one.
“Hey, Gwen. Can I talk to Kate?”
There was no point in dragging it out. He was going to work from the assumption that she was on the premises, and apparently he was right, because it took Gwen a long time to answer.
“I…well…it’s—” She took a deep breath. “She doesn’t want to see you, Cal.”
“I just need to say a couple of things to her, and then I’ll go. Can you ask her if she’ll let me do that—let me say what I came to say?”
Gwen stood there, shifting from one foot to the other. He actually felt sorry for her. Clearly, go-between was not a job she relished.
“Please,” he said, and she sighed.
“I’ll ask her—but don’t get your hopes up.”
She closed the door. His legs were beginning to hurt, and he hobbled over to the glider and sat down.
And waited. It was a nice evening—less humid than usual—and there was a slight breeze. He could hear kids playing someplace nearby—skateboarding from the sound of it. He listened to them for a time, then to the squeak of the glider as he moved it back and forth.
He closed his eyes, trying to take Mrs. Bee’s earlier advice and figure out what he was going to say. The front door opened again, and Kate stepped out. Whatever speech he might have had in place completely dissipated.
He couldn’t stop looking at her. She had on some kind of long cotton dress with a slit up the side—some kind of beach or poolside thing. Her hair was loose and hanging to her shoulders. She brushed it away from her face, but not so she could see him better. He hadn’t realized that seeing her under these circumstances would hurt so much.
Ah, Kate.
“Nice wheels,” she said after a moment, but she wouldn’t look at him.
He smiled. “I guess you know where I got them. I…saw Julius today. The surgery’s off—for a while, anyway. But I guess you know that, too.”
She nodded absently and looked across the front yard toward the street. A car with a window-rattling speaker
system went by.
“Gwen said you needed to talk to me,” she said after the car had passed, putting an end to the pleasantries she’d initiated.
“Are you okay?” he asked, because she was determined to avoid any eye contact, and he couldn’t tell.
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