Code Blue

by Richard MD Mabry

  Will waved Cathy to a couch and pulled over a client chair so he faced her, their feet almost touching. He balanced a yellow legal pad on his knee, pulled a fountain pen from his shirt pocket and uncapped it, and gave a gesture that he was ready to hear her story.

  "I guess I should start by apologizing for not calling you earlier," she said. "I . . . I don't have a good excuse. My life's been sort of topsy-turvy since I came back here, and I suppose I didn't want to add another complication."

  Will waved away both the apology and the excuse. His expression stayed neutral.

  Cathy opened her purse and pulled out her list. "I think I need to engage your professional services. Can we talk about your rates? I can probably handle them, but I want to be sure. Finances are sort of tight right now, until my practice takes hold."

  "Tell you what," Will said. "Let's put any discussion of fees aside for the time being. If necessary, we can engage in some good, old-fashioned bartering. You need legal services.I'll probably need medical attention sometime. Why don't you tell me what's troubling you?"

  She'd rehearsed it a dozen times on the way over, but somehow the words of her ordered presentation eluded her.Hesitantly at first, then speaking faster and with more force as she thought about the injustice of it all, she described her problems with the insurance company.

  When she finally ran out of steam, Will asked his first question. Soon, with no recollection of how the segue occurred, she found herself venting about her frustration with the hospital credentials committee. She confessed her worries about running through the money she'd borrowed from the bank to get her practice started, without being able to repay it. She admitted she was afraid someone wanted to drive her out of town. When it was over, Cathy felt as though she'd just completed a three-hour emergency operation.

  "Would you like a glass of water . . . a soft drink?" he asked.

  "Water, please." She gulped greedily from the bottle Will handed her. "Wow, I'd hate to have you cross-examine me.I usually don't even open up this much to my— I mean, I think you did a great job of getting the information you need and a lot more. I hope you'll forgive me for dumping like that."

  He ignored her comment and scanned his notes. Cathy counted the pages as he flipped through them: twenty-four.She wondered why she'd been so comfortable confiding in Will. She'd felt secure, the way she'd felt in his arms back when— Never mind. Bad idea to even think about the past.

  "So, what would you advise?"

  "About the insurance company? Since that was where you started, I presume that's the situation where you need my help. Right?"

  She nodded.

  He took in a deep breath through his nose and let it out through pursed lips. "Did you receive any kind of notice from the insurance company that your policy was about to lapse for nonpayment?"

  "It went to my old address. It eventually got forwarded, but I didn't get it until after the accident."

  "Had you notified the insurance company of your address change?"

  "Yes. I know I did. I still have the list of all my notifications."

  He closed his eyes, steepled his fingers, and leaned back in his chair. "We might eventually get the insurance company to pay, but there may be a better way. This whole thing started with the bank's error. Let me try there first."

  "What can we expect from them?"

  "If the bank contacts the insurance company and admits it was at fault in failing to honor the check, maybe we can get the company to reinstate the policy. Of course, since that would result in their being liable for several thousand dollars in damage to your car, there likely would be something of a fight. If the insurance company refuses to pay, we could always sue the bank."

  Cathy made a conscious effort to unclench her teeth. "No.You can't imagine how hard it was for me to get Nix and the bank to loan me enough to start my practice."

  "How much?" Will asked.

  It made her a little sick at her stomach to say the words."Seventy thousand dollars. Due in a year—actually, nine months from now. I don't want to do anything to put that in jeopardy."

  "So—"

  "Look," Cathy said, "I can't call up Nix and say, 'Oh, by the way, it's your fault my car insurance wasn't in effect when I ran offthe road, so if you don't pony up five or six thousand dollars for the damages, I'll sue you.' I just can't do that."

  "What's so special about Nix? So he loaned you money.That's his business. But how do you know he's not the one who made sure the check bounced? There might be a reason he'd want to hurt you."

  Cathy couldn't believe she hadn't thought of this before.Wasn't Robert's father on the board of a bank in Dallas? Could there be a connection between him and Nix? What if Nix took steps to assure that Cathy's insurance lapsed, then arranged an accident that totaled her car? So what if she defaulted on her loan? In a bank that size, the loss would be almost insignificant. Still, she couldn't imagine Milton Nix doing something so underhanded. In her mind, she'd always considered bankers to be trustworthy. Anyone responsible for such large sums of money had to be honest and dependable.Maybe she had been naïve.

  She shook her head. "All I know is that he loaned me money when no one else would, and now he's a patient of mine. If there's anyway to avoid it, I don't want to involve him in this mess."

  Will leaned forward and gently touched her hand. "And that's why I'll help."

  "I'm still worried about paying for all this."

  "Do you have a dollar?"

  Automatically, Cathy pulled her wallet from her purse.Then she looked up and frowned. "Why?"

  "Just give it to me."

  She handed it over.

  Will stowed the bill in his wallet. "Okay, that was mostly symbolic, but it makes most people feel better. Now you've officially engaged my services. We've established an attorneyclient relationship. I can act on your behalf in legal matters, and the first thing I intend to do is talk with Ella Mae Mercer."

  "Who?"

  "You probably don't remember her. Her maiden name was Ella Mae Becker. Married Ken Mercer right out of high school. Eventually, she figured the wife of a mechanic wasn't about to climb very high in the social ladder in Dainger, especially when he spent most of his nights working on cars in his backyard and all his weekends drinking beer."

  "And what does—?"

  Will held up his hand. "Patience. It gets better. Ella Mae divorced Ken, got a job at the bank as a teller, and worked her way up to Vice President. Nix may be the President of the bank, but Ella Mae Mercer carries a lot of weight. Let me have a talk with her. We'll see if she'll contact the insurance company and talk sweet reason with them."

  "Will Mr. Nix go along with her?"

  "If you believe the rumors around town, she's either the one who runs the bank or the one who runs Nix. Opinions are divided." Will's grin carried as much information as his words.

  Cathy's cheeks warmed. "Oh." She cleared her throat. "I hope you can get her to help."

  "I'll let you know." He scanned his notes. "Now, what about getting your privileges approved at the hospital?"

  "Sorry that came out. Guess I needed to vent." She squared her shoulders. "I'm a big girl. I need to fight my own fights, but I don't have any leverage with the insurance company.I'm glad to hear that you may be able to help there." She pulled out her checkbook. "You wouldn't tell me your fee schedule, but I'm sure you want more than a dollar for a retainer. How much?"

  "If you don't want to barter—a thousand dollars."

  Cathy's heart jumped into her throat. "I . . . I can't . . . I mean . . ."

  "Or we can make a trade. Have lunch with me on Sunday."

  A dozen responses rushed through her head, but the one that won the day came from her heart. "I guess this is why you always were the best debater in school. I hope you're this good when you talk with Ella Mae. What time and where?"

  "I'll pick you up at ten-thirty."

  "Why so early?"

  "We don't want to be late for church. We'll be going there
first." He grinned. "But it will be worth it. Mom's fried chicken is the best you've ever tasted. She and Dad will be so glad to see you. You've been gone too long."

  4

  CATHY HESITATED IN THE DOORWAY OF THE HOSPITAL CONFERENCE ROOM until she caught Marcus Bell's eye. He pointed to the far corner, away from the table where the committee members were seated. She eased into the chair and looked around, wondering if one of the physicians assembled here tonight was responsible for the harassment. Maybe after the meeting she'd have a better idea.

  Marcus tapped his water glass with a spoon. Conversation died down, coffee cups were pushed away, and six men looked expectantly toward the head of the table. Marcus took a sip of water. "I guess we'd better get this meeting underway."

  Cathy let her eyes roam around the long table, putting names with faces. At the head of the table, Marcus, as Chief of Staff, was the chair of the Credentials and Privileges Committee of Summers County General Hospital. There were six other members, but Cathy had already been told that votes were generally swayed by the opinions of two men: Dr. John Steel and Dr. Arthur Harshman. They were seated opposite each other. Somehow, the positioning seemed right to Cathy.

  Steel was middle-aged, a bit portly, and casually dressed.He had an easy air and seemed to smile freely. Cathy had referred several cases to Steel and considered him a competent surgeon who cared about his patients. He, in turn, had recommended her to some of his patients who were looking for a family practitioner. Their relationship had been good to this point. She hoped it wouldn't change because her request included privileges for appendectomies and a few other surgical procedures.

  Harshman was a different kettle of fish— a cold fish, actually.He looked to be about sixty, with a touch of gray at the temples of his coal-black hair. Whereas Steel wore a sport shirt and slacks, Harshman was dressed in a dark blue suit that fitted his spare frame as though custom-tailored. When he removed his steel-rimmed glasses to clean them with a spotless handkerchief, Cathy thought his eyes looked like ice before the spring thaw.

  Despite trying not to let Karen Pearson's tales about Harshman influence her opinion of the man, Cathy found herself vacillating between fear and dislike. There seemed to be no question among his colleagues about Harshman's professional capabilities, but the way he dealt with patients was the subject of constant gossip around the hospital.Cathy's dealings with him had been limited to a few words exchanged in the doctors' lounge. She had no idea what to expect from him in response to her request for privileges to perform deliveries.

  The other men around the table represented a crosssection of the physicians in the community: an internist, a pediatrician, a radiologist. The last member of the committee was Dr. Ernest Gladstone, the family practitioner whose impending retirement had sent a trickle of new patients to Cathy. He'd been mildly cordial in their limited dealings so far. Cathy hoped he wouldn't be put offby her desire to go beyond what he'd done in his own practice.

  Marcus opened the meeting with the usual boilerplate: acceptance of the minutes of the last meeting, voting to renew privileges of various staffmembers, accepting the resignation of several doctors who were retiring. Cathy was surprised that Gladstone's name wasn't on that list. Maybe he wanted to leave the door open in case he got bored with retirement.

  "Now we come to the application of Dr. Cathy Sewell for staffmembership and privileges. You've all received a copy of the relevant forms. In addition to the usual privileges granted to family practice specialists, Dr. Sewell has requested additional privileges in surgery and OB. You'll note that, in support of her request, she's provided letters from the heads of those departments at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center, where she did her residency training." Marcus uncapped a fresh bottle of water and drank before continuing. "What is the pleasure of the committee?"

  So that was it? No introduction of her to the group? No chance for her to speak? She started to open her mouth, but a glance from Marcus and an expression that said, "Trust me," made her lean back in her chair and remain silent.

  "I think we're extraordinarily lucky to have someone with these qualifications practicing in Dainger." John Steel squared the stack of papers before him. "I'd suggest that we grant all the privileges requested, with the stipulation that Dr. Sewell allow one of our surgeons to scrub as an unpaid observer on her first three cases and one of our obstetricians to observe her first three deliveries."

  Cathy took a deep breath. One hurdle down. If the surgeon supported her, that could only help.

  "I'm totally opposed to granting obstetric privileges of any kind to someone other than a board-certified specialist."Harshman's nasal voice cut through the room, and Cathy's heart skipped a beat. He turned to look directly at her."Doctor, I'm sure you did a fine job on the uncomplicated deliveries they let you do under supervision during your training, but obstetrics can be like flying— boredom interspersed at times with moments of stark terror. You never know when you'll be dealing with a placenta praevia or an abruptio placenta."

  "Ease up, Arthur." Dr. Gladstone's rich baritone carried a note of authority that Cathy found surprising. "You've gotten too used to old coots like me doing family practice. The world is changing. In case you haven't noticed, the 'kindly old GP' has been replaced by the board-certified family practitioner. These men—and women—have been trained to do a great deal more than I ever did. Why don't you follow John's example? Give her the privileges, observe her first three deliveries?"

  "Never." Harshman's visage was like pink marble, cold and unmoving.

  The discussion continued for another fifteen minutes.Each time Cathy started to defend herself, Marcus silenced her with a look or a gesture. Finally, Dr. Gladstone called the question, and the matter was put to a vote.

  "The motion is for Dr. Cathy Sewell to be granted staff membership, with privileges for all the procedures she has requested, but with the following stipulations: a member of the surgical staffis to observe her first three operations and a member of the obstetrics staffwill observe her first three deliveries. All in favor, raise your hand."

  Three hands went up: Gladstone, Steel, and the pediatrician.

  "Opposed?"

  Three other hands went up: Harshman, the internist, and the radiologist.

  "The chair declines to break the tie. Let's table this request and re-vote on granting standard family practice privileges."

  The motion was quickly made and seconded. It passed five to one, with Harshman still dissenting.

  "Dr. Sewell, welcome to the staff." Marcus extended his hand, and there was a mild smattering of applause.

  Cathy shook the hands that were offered, nodded coldly to Marcus, and left the room, still smarting. Why hadn't he broken the tie? And why hadn't he let her defend herself? She had depended on him, and he'd let her down. Just like Robert. Just like Carter. Just like Daddy.

  Cathy sat at the table in her landlady's kitchen and cut into a steaming biscuit.

  "Well, look at you. Pretty as a picture." Bess Elam stood in the doorway, drying her hands on her apron. "Going to church today?"

  Cathy lowered the two biscuit halves onto the plate in front of her, looked at her landlady, and calculated what she could tell her without starting rumors that would spread through Dainger like a measles epidemic. She decided on a partial truth. "That's right. I'll be attending the First Community Church."

  "Glad to hear it. Pastor Kennedy is a wonderful preacher.Sometimes we sneak over to hear him when our own pastor's out of town."

  Cathy picked up the biscuit again and buttered it. "I hope you don't mind. You told me yesterday to come over this morning and help myself. They smelled so good I couldn't resist."

  "Not at all. You shouldn't have to eat Sunday breakfast by yourself over in that garage apartment. Let me pour you some coffee to go with it."

  Soon the two women were seated at the kitchen table with coffee in front of them. Cathy applied a dab of Bess's homemade boysenberry jam and popped the last bit of bis
cuit into her mouth. The sweet flavor of fresh berries lingered on her tongue until she washed it away with a sip of coffee.

  "Do you remember how to get to the church?" Bess asked.

  "Yes, but someone's giving me a ride."

  "Oh? Who would—?"

  The sound of the doorbell stopped Bess in mid-sentence.Cathy felt her pulse quicken. Could she manage to slip out before Bess saw Will? Cathy pushed back her chair, but Bess was already at the door, opening it.

  "Will Kennedy? You come in this house and have some coffee and a biscuit." She buried him in a hug before turning back to Cathy. "Is this your ride to church?"

  Judging by the burning in her cheeks, Cathy had wasted the blusher she applied that morning. "Yes, he is."

  Will smiled at Cathy. "I knocked on your door, but there was no answer, so I thought I'd check Bess's kitchen. Glad I did. I'll take a rain check on that biscuit, Bess. You and Joe doing okay?"

  "Fine and dandy. Now you take good care of Dr. Cathy.She's my star renter, and she'll be my doctor if I ever need anything. Now that Joe and I have a good doctor, a good lawyer, and a good preacher, I guess we don't need anything else."

  Will had parked his pickup at the curb. He held the door for Cathy, a gesture she thought died with the advent of the Wwomen's movement.

  "Thank you," she murmured.

  Since almost every place in Dainger was no more than twenty minutes from any other place, the ride to the church was short. Will filled the time with comments like, "That's the old Henderson place. They're both in a rest home now, and their kids are selling it."