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Second Opinion

Page 5

by Alexander, Hannah


  Grant chuckled and led the way out into the hall. “I wish you’d call me Grant. According to Lauren, you can tame a room full of crazy teenagers. Since I have two of those myself, I have no doubt you could handle an ER full of patients.”

  Archer easily kept pace with Grant’s long-legged stride. “Cecile tells me you have twins.”

  “Yes, a girl and a boy, Brooke and Beau. And they are about as opposite as twins can be.” There were faint lines around Grant’s eyes and mouth. They were lines of kindness, which spoke of sleepless nights, long hours of work, and lots of smiles and laughter. Archer guessed him to be somewhere near forty.

  “I’ve made a lot of trips to the hospital with church members over the years but somehow being a hospital chaplain seems different to me,” Archer said.

  “Why?” Grant stopped to pick up another chart at the circular central desk.

  “I guess you could say the members of my church speak my language. They expect me to pray. They expect me to quote Scripture and give comfort.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t do that. Wouldn’t most people expect the same from you? It’s why you’re here.”

  “As long as I don’t proselytize, right?”

  “Giving comfort and praying isn’t proselytizing, it’s being a chaplain. Give yourself time to get accustomed to the pace. It can be crazy sometimes.”

  “I’ve noticed. So fill me in, Grant,” Archer said. “What’s this next case about?”

  Grant checked the chart and turned to lead the way across the room, keeping his voice low. “In exam room eight, we have a fifteen-year-old, Evan Webster, who suffered an overdose of speed. He appeared as shocked as his father to find out what the pills were he took.”

  Archer wondered if that was a hint of doubt in Grant’s voice. “You think he’s lying?”

  Grant shrugged as he slowed his steps. “I’m from St. Louis. I’ve seen too many schoolchildren with track marks on their arms and too many virgins with child.” He gave Archer a rueful grimace. “Sorry. Just call me Dr. Cynic. Anyway, the boy’s father has asked for family counseling and that’s a good sign. I think the shock hit him pretty hard, which is another good sign. It means he probably hasn’t had this kind of experience before.”

  “Meaning it’s possible the boy is telling the truth?”

  “I want to believe that. To complicate things, the father and mother are divorced and the mother has custody, so she’s been contacted and is on her way in. The police will be here soon to question Evan. You’ll probably be just about in the epicenter when everyone arrives. I also have the impression she isn’t keen on people in the ministerial field for some reason. Lauren tells me you teach a class on drug awareness.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I want my kids to attend.”

  Archer nodded, wondering about his next case. Ordinarily before a counseling session like this, he would have a prayer session alone. This time he wouldn’t get a chance. Even so, he couldn’t clear his mind of the young woman with the two little boys. Gina. That was her name. And Levi and Cody. No husband or father?

  “What can you tell me about Gina Drake?” he asked.

  Grant looked at him. “You know her?”

  “Hey, Dogwood Springs is my hometown. I know everybody within a fifty-mile radius—at least it seems that way when I try to keep a secret. I’ve known Lauren since we met at church camp as kids. Her younger brother is my age.”

  “How do you know Gina? She’s new in town and—”

  “I don’t,” Archer admitted. “I was eavesdropping. No way could I miss what was going on in that room, even if I’d tried, which I didn’t. Mrs. Piedmont is right, these exam room walls are pretty thin and I learned years ago that eavesdropping was a good way to stay ahead of the game and know what to pray for next. Would you at least ask Gina if I may pray with her? It sounds like she’ll need some friends.”

  Grant slowed to a stop with a smile and a thoughtful shake of his head. “I’ll ask. Have I said thanks for coming in tonight? I think the volunteer chaplain program is going to help the staff as much as it helps the patients.”

  Archer hadn’t received encouragement like that in weeks. “This place sounds more like a hospital for wounded souls than wounded bodies.”

  “The two seem to go together.” Grant gestured toward an exam room. “Norville Webster and his son, Evan, are in there.”

  Archer took a sustaining breath as he raised a silent prayer to heaven. “Let me at ‘em.”

  ***

  Lauren pressed some tissues into Gina’s hand. “As soon as I get your feet cleaned, I’ll put some temporary bandages on them and wheel you over to get your x-rays. We can check on your children as we go past.”

  “Thank you.” Gina’s voice was muffled against the pillow. She sniffed and mopped her face with the tissues. “I’m sorry about this. I’m not usually such a baby.”

  “You’re not acting like a baby, you’re acting like a worried mother with two children and a medical condition she doesn’t understand. I wish I knew what to tell you. I don’t think I’d be as brave under the circumstances.” Lauren quickly revised her words. “Not that the circumstances are hopeless, Gina. My impression is that Dr. Sheldon is knowledgeable and thorough. If anyone can figure out what’s going on, he can.” Lauren bit off her babbling as she finished cleaning the wounds and placed Telfa dressings over them. She wrapped both of Gina’s feet with gauze. “You can turn over and sit up.”

  When Gina did as she was told, Lauren saw that the mascara had spread farther across her face. Time to try to lighten the mood, if possible. “Honey, you look like you’ve got a couple of shiners.” She pulled her gloves off and reached for a paper towel. “Hold still for a minute.” She dampened the towel and went to work on the makeup mess.

  “Levi and Cody will think their mother suddenly turned into a raccoon.” She grinned to assure Gina she was teasing.

  Gina closed her eyes and held still while Lauren dabbed around her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “For what? You’d tell me if my makeup was smeared, wouldn’t you?”

  The copper-colored eyes opened again. “Thank you for taking such good care of Levi. He doesn’t usually trust strangers so quickly.”

  “He’s precious. I’d love five just like him but I need a husband first.”

  Gina grimaced and looked away. “Why? You can’t depend on them. I tried.”

  “I can’t imagine a daddy not wanting to stay around to watch those two angels grow up.”

  “Their father barely waited until Cody was born before he took off with somebody who didn’t have any kids to tie her down.” Gina’s voice was layered with pain.

  Lauren placed a hand on Gina’s shoulder. “Then he’s the one who will lose the most. Your children have a mother who obviously loves them very much.”

  “I left them alone tonight.” Gina’s voice wobbled. “I made a vow years ago that I would never allow my own children to feel the way—” She stopped and bit her lip then straightened her shoulders and sniffed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem. I’ll figure it all out later. Do I still look like a raccoon?”

  Lauren wiped the last smudge then stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Aha! Now I recognize you. You’re Gina Drake from Respiratory, the one who’s so good with children. No wonder your own kids are so sweet.”

  Something warmed in Gina’s eyes and Lauren thought she caught a hint of a smile before the worry took root once more.

  “Levi was so brave while we treated him, Gina.”

  “Do you think he’ll be okay to come home tonight?”

  “We’ll be sure and ask Dr. Sheldon.” Lauren continued to chatter about how cute both little boys were and how the neighbor had told the staff how obedient the children usually were. She allowed her chatterbox mode to continue instead of stifling it midstream.

  At first, Gina watched Lauren’s face closely, as if she might be trying to detect any false note. But soon her express
ion relaxed. Lauren realized she was probably seeing a side of Gina Drake that few of her co-workers ever saw. Ordinarily, the respiratory therapist was calm and kind but strictly professional. She kept to herself. She never showed any vulnerability. Some of the less inhibited male members of the hospital staff claimed that Gina was a snob because she turned down all invitations to lunch, dinner, breaks, or breakfast. Lauren always quickly informed them that was simply because Gina had good taste.

  “Lauren,” Gina said at last, interrupting the quick-paced monologue. She held Lauren’s gaze with her own and worried her full lower lip with her front teeth.

  “Yes?” Lauren sat down on the stool so they were eye to eye.

  Gina’s mouth worked silently for several seconds. Her face flushed and her eyes watered again. “I’m scared.”

  “Of course you are, honey. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

  “That’s what we’re going to try to find out.” Lauren leaned closer. “Meanwhile, I want you to know that you do have a friend in town. I haven’t been in Dogwood Springs very long, either, and I know how lonely it can get.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “A beautiful place called Knolls. It’s about an hour’s drive east of here and sometimes I think I must have been crazy to move. Do you ever feel that way?”

  An invisible strain of tension seemed to fill the room. “No. Never. At least not until this happened.”

  “Good. I’ll give you my home phone number before you leave tonight and you can call me any time.”

  “Am I going to be allowed to leave?” Gina asked. “With my children?”

  “We’re going to do everything in our power to see that you do. In the meantime it won’t do you or your children any good to worry about it.”

  Gina studied Lauren’s eyes for several seconds, then some of her tension dissipated, as if she had run out of energy to continue.

  “How about lunch Monday?” Lauren asked.

  There was a flash of surprise and then a nod that seemed to open the gates to a flood of gratitude. Lauren had never before noticed what an expressive face Gina had.

  “Can I go see my boys now?” she asked.

  “Of course; then we’ll get your x-rays. Let me get you back into the wheelchair.”

  Chapter 6

  Archer stepped into exam room eight to face Evan Webster. The skinny fifteen-year-old sat upright in the bed, his longish brown hair tangling into brown eyes that darted back and forth. He was obviously stressed to the edge of his endurance.

  A middle-aged, balding man with hands rubbing together fretfully occupied a chair against the wall. He stood as Archer crossed the room.

  “Are you the minister?”

  “Yes, hello, I’m Archer Pierce. I’m the volunteer chaplain tonight.”

  The man took Archer’s hand with both of his own in a firm grip, as if Archer had suddenly announced he was their sure salvation. “Norville Webster. Thank you for coming to see us, Reverend Pierce.”

  “Please call me Archer.”

  “Thank you.” A heavy frown fell back over Norville’s patrician features as he returned his attention to the teenager in the bed. “Meet Evan, my son.” He spoke the words as if his son had just developed a terminal illness.

  A reflection of pain crossed the teenager’s face but disappeared into a fresh composite of high tension.

  “Hello, Evan,” Archer said gently. “I understand you’ve had a rough night.”

  The boy nodded, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “It’s going to become the worst night ever as soon as my mom gets here.” He gave Archer a sympathetic look. “Tell her you’re a doctor or a tech or something. Don’t tell her you’re a preacher. She hates them.”

  “That’s enough,” Norville snapped. He turned to Archer. “Sorry. I tried to raise my son with more manners but lately it seems like he’s following in his mother’s footsteps.”

  Archer winced inwardly when he saw the look of surprise and raw pain in Evan’s face. So there was open animosity between the estranged parents and they used their son as a weapon.

  “Lucy and I are divorced,” Norville said. “She has custody, except for those rare occasions when she can’t find an excuse to keep him from coming to my place on visitation weekends.” The bitterness was evident in his voice as well as his words. “If he weren’t so unhappy living with her—”

  “Dad,” Evan said quietly. “If you’d stop blaming Mom for everything and—”

  “I’m not just blaming her, I’m—“

  “Yes you are.” The teenager leaned forward. “Why don’t you give it up and get on with life? I mean, it’s over.” His voice gentled. “She isn’t coming back.”

  “Just because your mother decided it was over—”

  “Hold it.” Archer held his hands in a T, calling time out. “Accusations won’t do us any good at this point. We need to focus on how to improve this situation for the future.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Evan said.

  This time it was Norville who took the hit. “See what I mean?” Norville asked Archer. “It’s my weekend to keep him and no sooner does he get to my place than he gulps his dinner and darts out of the house like I’m contagious. Then he comes back later, zoned out of his brain on drugs looking to me for answers.” He slumped back into his chair. “And I don’t have any.”

  There was only one answer to all of the pain Archer saw and felt in this room. If these were members of his congregation he would know exactly what to say. But he’d been told repeatedly not to proselytize at the hospital. He felt like a tethered mule.

  Still, he needed to say something, if for no other reason than to allow them time out from their own battle of words. “The first thing to realize,” he said, “is that you’re not alone. Drug use in all age groups has permeated the country—probably the world. Evan, I think the experience you had tonight might have given you a taste of the danger.”

  Evan nodded. “I know better than to take anything from anyone.”

  “You and your parents are welcome to attend the class I teach on Tuesday nights. We have some pretty open discussions about drug use and abuse.”

  “I’ll go with you, Evan,” Norville said. “I’ll do anything it takes to keep this from happening again.”

  “Dad, I’m not doing this again, okay? I made a mistake. I didn’t intentionally drop speed.”

  The exam room door swung open. A tall, slender woman with short brown hair and angry eyes stormed into the room.

  Norville glared at her.

  The woman gave Archer a quick look of curiosity then shut the door behind her.

  “Mom, don’t blow your top,” Evan said. “The doctor says I need to stay calm.”

  “I know what the doctor says.” Her voice was husky and slightly hoarse, her words clipped. “I just finished talking to him.” She leveled a chilling glare at her ex-husband. “I should have known you weren’t even capable of keeping a fifteen-year-old boy out of trouble for a single night.”

  Norville returned glare for glare. “I bet you’ll love having a son with a criminal record.”

  “Dad, I’m not going to have a criminal—”

  “So what happened?” Evan’s mother crossed her arms in front of her. Archer saw that her hands were shaking as she dug her nails a little too sharply into the flesh of her arms, as if she was using the sting of pain to keep her emotions under control.

  He reached a hand toward her in concern. “Ma’am, let me get you a seat.”

  “What did you take?” She stepped to her son’s bedside, ignoring Archer.

  Evan rolled his eyes. “A couple of pills, okay? I thought they were probably analgesics laced with caffeine.”

  “The doctor said you tested positive for methamphetamine.”

  “I didn’t know that when I took them.”

  “Why did you take them if you didn’t even know what they were?”


  Evan’s jaw muscles clenched and unclenched as he stared hard at the wall. “I just wanted things to be different.”

  “Different from what? You’re out of school so you don’t have any stress. You don’t even have a job for the summer. So what do you have to get away from?”

  “It isn’t easy being a rope in a tug-of-war.”

  “You’ve been listening to your father again.”

  “Stop it, Lucy,” Norville said. “None of that’s going to do any good right now.”

  Lucy pivoted toward her ex-husband and Archer saw from the play of light across her face that her eyes were filling with tears. A flush crept up her neck. “Maybe you should give it a try sometime. It’s called discipline. All you ever do is try to undermine my authority and win some popularity contest with Evan.”

  “I don’t try to undermine anyone’s authority, I just try to give him a little attention when he’s with me. That happens seldom enough these days.”

  Archer stepped forward. “Mr. and Mrs. Webster, Evan is still experiencing physical difficulties from the drug and—”

  “My name is not Mrs. Webster.” Lucy glared at him. “Who are you, anyway?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner. My name is Archer Pierce. I’m a volunteer—”

  “He’s a counselor,” Norville said quickly. “He’s a volunteer counselor for the hospital. I requested the visit.”

  “A shrink?” she demanded.

  “No ma’am,” Archer said, “I’m acting chaplain tonight.” He ignored the expression of distress that crossed Norville’s face. He wasn’t about to lie to this woman. “I know enough about Evan’s case to realize he needs to calm—”

  “You’re a preacher?”

  “I’m a pastor here in Dogwood Springs.” Archer kept his voice gentle but firm and he watched the monitor with growing concern.

  “My son doesn’t need a preacher,” Lucy said.

  “He needs to calm down,” Archer said.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “My age is none of your concern. Your son is.”

 

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