A Stranger's Gift (Women of Pinecraft)

by Anna Schmidt

  “Hester,” Zeke protested. “Get Hester. Hospital takes forever.”

  “All right. Hester, then. But I’m not leaving you here. Can you walk?”

  “No worries, man.” But when he tried to sit fully upright, a wave of dizziness overtook him.

  In spite of the stench of his clothing and body, John scooped his friend into a fireman’s carry and headed back toward the marina.

  “Guitar,” Zeke moaned.

  “I’ll come back for it,” John promised.

  “Tide coming in,” Zeke managed.

  “Then I’ll buy you a new one if it gets ruined.” He could barely afford groceries, much less a guitar, but the important thing was to get Zeke some medical attention—and fast.

  As Hester had predicted, once the sun came out and the floodwaters receded, the public’s attention moved on to other matters. No longer did she turn around while restoring the houses along the creek to find a television reporter and cameraperson carefully picking their way across a soggy lawn, hoping for a story. And after it became clear that there had been massive property damage but little human loss, the media packed up and moved on for good. The National Guard, too, had moved on, as had other disaster-relief groups that had set up temporary headquarters in Sarasota.

  Even the out-of-state volunteer teams from Mennonite and Amish congregations that had appeared in droves during the first seventy-two hours following the storm had headed back home after a few weeks. The difference there was that they sent replacements, crews of teenagers or college students who were eager to spend a few days rebuilding someone’s house and rejoicing in the reward of seeing a family moved from one of the cramped FEMA trailers back into their own place.

  It was a pattern that Hester was well used to and one that she saw as a natural part of the rhythm of life on Florida’s Gulf Coast. When another storm struck their shores—and it would—if not this season then next, or the one after that, these wonderful caring people would be back, ready to once again help the residents of Pinecraft and the surrounding area rebuild.

  She was putting the final touches on her father’s house when the phone in Arlen’s study rang. “Pastor Detlef’s residence,” she said as she cradled the phone on her shoulder and wiped her paint-stained hands on a rag.

  “Hester?”

  John Steiner sounded as if he’d run a marathon and called her straight from the finish line. “It’s Zeke Shepherd,” he said. “Can you come?”

  “What’s happened?” Hester asked, already setting the rag aside and reaching for her bag. “Where are you?”

  “He’s really sick. We’re at the city marina, north end. I’m illegally parked.”

  “You drove?”

  “I’ve got Margery’s boat. I’m in one of the vacant slips. When Zeke didn’t show up at my place for over a week, I went looking for him. I mean, it wasn’t like him to disappear for over a week without at least stopping by.”

  Hester didn’t see the need to tell John that it was exactly like Zeke to disappear for long periods of time without letting anyone know where or how he was. Eventually he would show up, his impish smile all Jeannie needed to forgive him for giving her such a fright.

  “I’m on my way.”

  She wrote a quick note to her father, grabbed the car keys, and prayed the traffic lights would be with her.

  They were. She reached the marina in record time and saw John standing at the end of one of the piers near a pay phone. He was looking far healthier than he had the last time she’d seen him. In the days that had passed since they’d worked together on Margery’s place, the ankle boot was gone, and his bruises and insect bites had healed. Only the wrist cast remained, and the way he was waving his hands around, it didn’t look as if that was much of a concern.

  She followed him out to the boat. Zeke was lying on the deck curled into a fetal position. He moaned and rolled onto his side, clutching his stomach. The stench from his clothing and lack of proper hygiene almost overpowered her, but she sucked in a deep breath and knelt next to him. “Tell me what’s going on, Zeke,” she said softly as she began taking his vitals—pulse, temperature, pupils.

  “Hurts,” he moaned.

  “Where?”

  “Head. Stomach. Everywhere.”

  “John, could you get Zeke some water?” For once John did as she asked without questioning her.

  “No!” Zeke protested weakly but firmly. “Goes straight through me,” he added as he pulled his knees up to his chest and rocked from side to side.

  “You’re dehydrated, Zeke. We have to get some fluids in you. How long has this been going on?”

  “Couple of days like this, maybe a week in all. Seems like forever.”

  Hester was beginning to have her suspicions as to a diagnosis. “Anybody else sick?”

  “He lives alone,” John reminded her.

  She ignored him. “Zeke?”

  “Yeah. A couple of others that I know of.”

  “Okay, let’s get you to the ER, and then I’ll go check on the others.” She turned her attention to John. “Can you carry Zeke?”

  Once again he lifted Zeke in a fireman’s carry. Hester held the door of her car open as John laid the man across the backseat. Then he got into the passenger seat while she took the wheel.

  “What others, Zeke?” she asked as she navigated traffic between the marina and the hospital.

  “Danny, for one.” He paused. “I can’t think.”

  “Okay, well then, let’s get you to the emergency room, and then I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  “I can stay with Zeke,” John volunteered.

  “No worries, man,” Zeke mumbled. “Go help Hester.”

  It was clear that the ER staff was less than thrilled to see this disheveled man who reeked of sweat and the aftermath of severe diarrhea come through the door. But Hester ignored their displeasure and gave them her credentials as a registered nurse. “He’s showing all the symptoms of crypto,” she said curtly. “I suspect there are more cases among those of the homeless community that hang out around the library. We’re going there to check on them. You got this?”

  The admissions person and a burly aide who had brought a wheelchair out to the car to help Zeke inside both nodded.

  “Good. We’ll be back as soon as possible.” She squeezed Zeke’s hand and then headed back to the car.

  “What’s crypto?” John asked as she started the engine and eased into traffic.

  “Cryptosporidium—a parasite. Causes a pretty awful gastrointestinal illness called cryptosporidiosis. Mostly it comes from consuming contaminated food or water.” She leaned forward as if willing the light they were stopped at to turn green. “People like Zeke are at risk because they tend to get their food and water from unorthodox sources—trash bins behind restaurants, and water from streams or other places.”

  She waited for a car to pull out of a parking space across from the library, a large white concrete structure surrounded by pineapple-shaped columns. “Uh-oh,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nobody around. Normally there would be clusters of two or three people sitting up there on the steps or over there in the park.” She pointed.

  “It’s close to ninety degrees,” John reminded her. “Maybe they went inside to take advantage of the air-conditioning.”

  “Maybe.” She hoped John was right. She started across the street and was surprised when John took her arm to stop her from stepping out in front of a car speeding up the short side street.

  “Careful,” he said, releasing her arm before crossing.

  She caught up to him. “You don’t have to come,” she said. “I mean, you can wait in the car or out here if you’d rather. I know this really isn’t—”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” For reasons Hester couldn’t fathom, his characteristic gruffness gave her comfort. “That’s better,” she said as they climbed the steps together. “For a moment there I thought you’d gone all soft on me.”

&n
bsp; “Not a chance,” he said, but he was smiling.

  Inside she sent John upstairs to walk through the stacks and see if there were any likely candidates while she did the same on the first floor. She even checked out the children’s library with its popular arched aquarium entrance as well as the used bookstore operated by the Friends of the Library.

  “Bathrooms,” she said when John came down the stairs, shaking his head. She led the way to the corridor where the public restrooms were located. Again nothing.

  She was considering where else they might go to look when she spotted the library’s security person. “Excuse me,” she said.

  She watched as the security guard took in her plain garb and John’s traditional straw hat before smiling politely. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “The men and women who are…regulars here,” she said, and the guard’s eyes narrowed.

  “The homeless people?”

  “Yes. Do you have any idea where they are?”

  “Try Rainbow House,” he said and prepared to turn away.

  “It’s closed down,” Hester continued, fighting to maintain her patience. “The county never reopened it after the hurricane. Someone I know in the county government tells me it’s unlikely it will ever reopen.”

  “Well, they aren’t here,” the man replied curtly.

  “We can see that,” John said, his terse tone forcing the guard to meet the intensity of his stare. “And since this is where they are normally, what happened?”

  The guard sighed and looked at something beyond their heads. “Look. You didn’t hear it from me, but there were complaints from our, you know, other patrons. Some of those people were coming in here and stinking up the place and throwing up in the restrooms and just in general making it—”

  “Those people are ill,” Hester said. “Some of them may be dangerously ill, and if we don’t find them, one or more of them could die. At the very least they could spread a parasite that might infect a great many others. Including your other patrons. Now where did they go?”

  “I really don’t know. We called the cops, and they moved them away from here. That’s all I know about it.”

  Hester dismissed the man with a look and turned her attention to John. “Any ideas?”

  “We could try the bay front, near the public restrooms there.”

  Hester nodded, and she did not miss the fact that as she and John headed out the door, the security guard was already squirting disinfectant from the dispenser near the front doors onto his palms and rubbing them vigorously together.

  Chapter 15

  What made you think of the bay front?” Hester asked as she pulled into the parking lot near a popular tiki-style restaurant and found one of several open spaces.

  “It’s where Zeke lives, so I figured maybe …”

  He was not about to admit to her that Zeke had taken him to these same restrooms one day and suggested he wash up.

  “You stink, man,” Zeke had told him in that ‘no worries’ tone he used to address every topic. “And until they get the water back on out your way, this may be your best bet.”

  “Do you think maybe that’s where he got the infected food or water?” Hester asked.

  “Could be. From what I’ve observed, Zeke is pretty resourceful and tends to take what he needs wherever it’s available.”

  John recalled the day he and Zeke had first met. The way Zeke had drunk the bottled water and then refilled the plastic container with the runoff from the awning at the abandoned warehouse.

  “They need a safe haven,” Hester muttered as she headed for the women’s restroom.

  “Can I ask a question?” John said, stopping her before she could enter the open door.

  “Okay.”

  “What are we going to do if we find half a dozen or more sick people in these restrooms?”

  “Get them some help,” she said and handed him a pair of latex gloves she’d pulled from her bag. “Wear these.” She pulled on a pair of her own. “And this,” she added, handing him a mask.

  “And after you get them help, then what?” John wondered aloud as he took a deep breath and went in to check the men’s room.

  Moments later, he emerged supporting a rail-thin man who stumbled along beside him. Hester was sitting with two women—one who had to be in her sixties and the other a decade or so younger. They seemed to be in far better shape than either Zeke or the man John was supporting.

  “Best diet I was ever on,” the older woman crowed. “Look at this.” She stood up and pulled out the waistband of her trousers to show how big they were on her. “Need a belt just to hold them up.”

  “Dangerous diet,” Hester corrected her. “We need to get your friend there to the hospital. Will you two wait here until I can get back with some medicine?”

  “Got nothing but time,” the younger woman grumbled, fanning herself with an old magazine.

  “You get Danny there the help he needs,” the older woman urged. “He’s been sicker than a dog for days now.”

  “Have you got any cash with you?” Hester asked John.

  “Some.”

  “Could you get these ladies each a bottle of water from the stand there?”

  “Sure.” John headed off.

  “Could we make that a nice cup of coffee?” the older woman shouted.

  “Water,” Hester said firmly. The woman grinned a wide, toothless grin and shrugged. “Anybody else sick?” she asked the women as she waited for John to return with the water. The one thing she knew was that the homeless community was almost as tight as her own Mennonite community was. They all knew each other, knew who was a newcomer and who had been on the streets long enough to know their way around. And as was true of any group, not everyone got along. There were petty jealousies, turf wars, and cliques. But if there was a threat from outside forces, these people would stand together. The two women exchanged a look but remained silent. “Okay. If anyone starts to show signs of running a fever or especially diarrhea or throwing up, make sure they drink lots of water, clean water. You have to boil it if you don’t get it from a reliable source, okay?”

  “Drink boiling water? In this heat?” The younger woman shuddered as John returned with two bottles of water and handed one to each woman.

  “You let it cool down first,” the older woman said. “Right, Doc?”

  “She’s a missionary, dope.”

  “Who you calling—?”

  “I’m a nurse,” Hester interrupted. “Yes, let the water cool to room temperature before drinking it, and stay away from anything with caffeine like soda or tea or coffee. That will just cause the dehydration to worsen.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Got it. Any medicine to clear this thing up?”

  “There are some over-the-counter anti-diarrheal medicines that I can bring you.” She sighed in frustration. “Look, it just has to run its course. If anyone is really suffering, take them to one of the walk-in clinics or to the emergency room.”

  “Yeah, that’ll work,” the younger woman said sarcastically.

  “Try it,” Hester said, “and please spread the word.” She took her place to one side of Danny while John supported him from the other and they led him toward the car. “I’ll stop back later,” she called, but both women were already gone.

  With her help, John got the semi-conscious Danny into the backseat and they headed back to the hospital.

  “After we pick Zeke up, I want you, Zeke, and Danny there—if he’s not admitted—to come back to our house and take a long, hot shower. You’ve been exposed to this thing now, and you need to take precautions.”

  But when they reached the emergency room, Jeannie was there. “I was visiting a neighbor,” she explained. “And on my way out, I saw an aide wheeling Zeke out from the ER. He looks terrible. Don’t you think he should be admitted?”

  “I’m okay, Jeannie,” Zeke said weakly.

  “Well, at the very least you’re coming home with me and having yourself a nice hot shower and changing out o
f those clothes. You stink to high heaven.”

  Zeke managed a grin and put up no resistance as Jeannie led him across the driveway to her car, chattering all the way. Hester saw her open the trunk and remove an old quilt that she placed on the front seat before letting Zeke get in. Meanwhile, the aide had helped Danny into the wheelchair vacated by Zeke and taken him inside.

  “Jeannie, wait,” Hester called. “John needs a ride back to the marina.”

  Jeannie nodded. “Tell him to come on,” she said.

  Back inside, Hester saw John conferring with the doctor.