Second Opinion

by Alexander, Hannah

“Do you have any children?”

  Archer completely understood Norville’s hostility toward this woman. Archer had been in her presence for what? Sixty seconds? He already had to force himself to remain calm. What must Evan be feeling?

  “Are you even married?” Lucy placed her hands on her hips.

  “Your son’s heart rate is increasing.”

  Lucy spun on Norville. “Trust you to drag someone like him into the middle of this mess!”

  Evan raised his hands to his ears. “Stop it.”

  Norville stepped between her and the bed. “You’re making things worse.”

  “Stop it!” Evan snapped.

  His mother ignored him. “Oh, that’s right, it’s always my fault. That’s because you’re not man enough—”

  “Shut up!” Evan shouted the words. “Everybody get out of here and leave me alone!” His face had reddened and tears filled his eyes. His rhythm gyrated across the monitor. “I can’t take any more of this. Doctor? Where’s the doctor? I’ve got to get out of here.” He reached for the IV site and grasped it as if he would pull it out.

  Archer and Norville converged on him in tandem and Norville grabbed his arm. “No son. Don’t.”

  “Leave me alone.” Evan tried to jerk away.

  Norville held steady. “Evan. Stop. I’m sorry. Calm down and lie back. I’ll get the doctor. It’s going to be okay. I need to control my temper. I promise I’ll try harder.”

  Evan did not look convinced. “All I ever hear is fight, fight, fight. You can’t even stop when my life might depend on it. You don’t care about me at all. You’re too busy hating each other. What if I do become a drug addict? What if I do go out and kill myself? You would love it. That would just give you more to fight about.”

  Evan looked at his shocked mother and the lines of his face drew down until they mimicked his father’s sad expression. “Get out.”

  Archer was reaching for the door to call for assistance when it swung open and Grant stepped inside followed by Muriel. The doctor appeared calm and unhurried, his expression serene, even friendly, with no indication that he’d heard anything out of the ordinary through the walls of the exam room.

  “Folks, we’ve had a slight change of plans. The police are here to take Evan’s statement.” His deep voice remained unperturbed as he indicated Norville and Lucy. “If you would like, feel free to continue your discussion in one of our hospital’s private conference rooms.” He gave Archer an understanding glance and stepped back to allow the parents to file out of the room.

  Norville hesitated. The worry lines of his face continued a silent argument.

  Lucy remained standing beside her son’s bed. “I’ll stay, if you don’t mind.”

  “I mind.” Evan turned his back to her and pulled his arm, at last, from his father’s grasp. “I don’t want either of you in here.”

  “If you’ll forgive me,” Grant said, “our ER has a one-visitor policy. I think it’s best for our patient if we abide by it. Muriel will stay with him and make sure he’s safe.” His voice was sympathetic but firm. Archer felt a wash of relief as the embittered exes relented and grudgingly filed from the exam room. He also felt a heavy sadness for this broken family as he followed the parents out the door, listening to the low-voiced sniper fire continue between them.

  Archer did not attempt to rejoin the conversation. His presence had already caused enough disruption here tonight.

  ***

  Grant checked Evan’s vitals and waited with his hand on Evan’s shoulder, the bell of his stethoscope pressed against the bony chest, the heart rate stabilized. As he left Muriel with the boy, he reminded himself to never do anything like that to his own children. He would rather remain single for the rest of his life than see that expression of frustrated pain and anger cross Brooke’s or Beau’s face. Of course, Brooke had a very expressive face and she used it to great advantage.

  He caught sight of Archer Pierce trudging along the hallway, hands in the pockets of his Dockers, head bowed—whether in deep thought, or prayer, or despondency Grant couldn’t tell. He was exactly as Lauren had described him—a friendly, thoughtful young man with an air of maturity that belied his age. Lauren had said he was thirty-three. She had said a lot of things about him. All good. But even if he was mature and confident, that headlong attack from Evan’s mother couldn’t have been comfortable.

  “Thanks for stepping in to help, Archer,” Grant said as he caught up with the young minister.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I trust you’ve had an interesting evening so far.”

  Archer walked with him toward the central station. “Very. Is Evan going to be okay?”

  “He’ll be fine unless he decides he still hates his life and takes permanent steps to make his parents pay for their behavior.”

  “I’d never before considered how much spiritual suffering joins forces with physical suffering to attack a patient when he’s down.”

  Grant nodded. “That is why it was such a good idea for you to be here. Do you plan to talk to the Websters again?”

  “I’ll find Norville later and let him know I’m available if he needs to talk.”

  “Good. Are you ready to tackle another case?” Grant asked.

  Archer looked at him hopefully. “Gina Drake?”

  Grant couldn’t prevent a wry smile. The man was either very brave or an incredible glutton for punishment. Or maybe he was doing exactly what God had called him to… did people actually do that anymore? “Lauren convinced her to talk to you.”

  “She did?”

  “She seems to think all you have to do is snap your fingers to make all the evil and pain in the world disappear. Wish I had that talent.”

  Archer chuckled. It was a relaxing sound. “We’re talking about Lauren McCaffrey? The Lauren who beats me in basketball and volleyball and earlier this spring had to cut a fishhook out of my arm in the middle of a fishing tournament?”

  Grant leaned closer and lowered his voice. “The one who thinks you could almost walk on water.” He stopped and cleared his throat. Grant had learned quickly that Lauren was a talker and that she often revealed more about herself than she realized. Archer probably had no idea she had a crush on him. Grant had heard other staff members discussing it, though, so Archer was probably the only one who hadn’t caught the undercurrent.

  “She knows better,” Archer said with a fond smile. “She saw me nearly drown at church camp twenty years ago. She and her brothers dragged me out and pumped the lake out of my lungs.”

  Grant was intrigued. “You’ve known Lauren for twenty years?”

  “Actually, for twenty-five. Church camp, rival schools, that kind of thing. Lauren and her brothers and sisters were deacon’s kids in a sister church in Knolls, so since my dad was our church pastor, we were thrown together a lot through the years. I was good friends with her younger brothers and she tolerated me back when I had a huge crush on her.”

  Grant grinned and shook his head. Small towns. “Anyway,” he said, “I can’t tell you how much it means for you to be here. These people need to know they count with someone and sometimes we docs get so busy we can’t afford to take the time to give them as much reassurance as they need. That’s where you come in. Think of it as an interactive sermon.”

  “Interactive, huh? I like that.” Archer bent down for a quick drink at the water fountain. “I think this really was a first offense with Evan.”

  “I hope,” Grant said. “Forgive my cynicism.”

  “You don’t sound like a cynic to me. You sound like a man with common sense. Have the tests come back on Mrs. Piedmont?”

  “Yes, and they don’t show anything significant.” Grant paused. “Still, I’m concerned that she does have underlying heart pain. I’ve spoken with her family doc and he says she can go home as long as she sees him Monday.”

  “That’ll make her happy. I’d volunteer to take her but I’d have to wrestle her children for the privilege.”

>   “I hear she goes to your church.”

  “Yes. I’ve known her all my life. Wonderful lady.” Archer paused and glanced at Grant. “She’s good at collecting information, too. She already knows a lot about you. While I was in her room earlier, she told me about your wife’s passing. I hated to hear that.”

  Grant winced involuntarily. It still hurt after two years.

  Archer’s intense gaze flickered momentarily. “I’m sorry.”

  Grant nodded to Lester, the tech, who was escorting a patient toward the exit. When they were out of earshot, he continued. “You’d think a man would have recovered from his wife’s death after two years.”

  “Actually, my father always told me to give someone at least three years to grieve the death of a spouse,” Archer said. “How do your kids feel about the move to Dogwood Springs?”

  “My son, Beau, doesn’t seem to mind.”

  “It’s a big change from St. Louis.”

  “According to my daughter, Brooke, we might as well have moved to Jupiter.”

  “We’d love to have your whole family visit our church, if that isn’t proselytizing.” He smiled at Grant.

  Grant hesitated. “I’d like the kids to go.”

  “We have an active youth group, especially since Lauren arrived. She’s great with the kids.”

  “I think they would like that,” Grant said.

  “And how about you?”

  Grant didn’t answer. He was glad when Archer didn’t push the matter. They walked toward the central desk, where two police officers in black uniforms leaned against the waist-high counter exchanging casual, friendly banter with Becky. The secretary worked the computer keyboard and kept up with their conversation without missing a stroke. The men straightened when Grant and Archer approached.

  “Tony, good to see you, bud.” Archer stepped forward to shake hands and punch the shoulder of the senior officer. He turned to Grant. “I graduated from high school with this guy. He was valedictorian.”

  “Archer, don’t you ever sleep?” Tony asked.

  “I do that at my desk at work,” Archer joked. “Sometimes it shows in my sermons. Not that you’d notice, since you’re hardly ever at services. When are you going to earn enough seniority that you don’t have to work every Sunday?”

  Tony grinned and shrugged. “When your sermons start sinking in and the crime rate goes down. So far, you’re not making much headway. Is our patient ready for questioning?”

  “Yes,” Grant said, “but be gentle with the kid. He’s suffered enough.”

  The two officers nodded and sauntered toward exam room eight. They’d obviously been here before and knew the layout.

  “I do want to talk with Gina,” Archer said. “When can I see her?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Grant warned. “She may not say much but I think she’s particularly afraid of our social worker. She isn’t willing to discuss anything at this point.” He stepped over to the chart rack and pulled out a clipboard. “Rose Pascal went in to speak with her once already and didn’t get a very good response. Unfortunately, you’re not going to have time to prepare or talk to her before you’re thrown into the fray.”

  “What fray?”

  “There’s an IIS therapist driving down from Branson. They want to have a wraparound meeting tonight, if—”

  “Uh, wait, you’ve lost me. Sorry I’m so green. Apparently my daddy didn’t teach me everything I needed to know about pastoring. What is an IIS therapist and what is a wraparound meeting?”

  At that moment the door opened to exam room four and Lauren stepped out. “Good, you’re both free. I’ve got Gina’s feet bandaged and I’m ready to put her in the wheelchair for a trip to the conference room. Rose Pascal and Natalie Frasier are already in there with Agnes Walker, Gina’s next-door neighbor. We have an aide watching the children for us during the meeting. Can you come now?”

  “We’ll be right in,” Grant told her.

  She retreated and closed the door.

  “Wraparound meeting?” Archer asked.

  “It’s a term we use when dealing with child protection.” Grant reached for a pad of paper and pulled an ink pen out of the pocket of his lab coat. “Ideally, when a family’s in crisis the social workers assigned to their case like to have a meeting with everyone connected to that family so they can brainstorm the best ways to provide support when help is needed.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  “Gina claims no family but her children. She’s fairly new in town, so she hasn’t had time to make friends. And except for the employment physical she had before she came to work here, I’m the only physician who’s seen her since she arrived. Lauren has chosen to take an active role. Thanks for your offer to help.”

  “You’re welcome. What is an IIS therapist?”

  “IIS stands for Intensive In-Home Service. The therapist does exactly what her title suggests. She’s an employee of the state who goes into the home of the family in crisis to research ways to improve the family relationship. She does exhaustive counseling to help the family learn to cope with their crisis so that they have a better chance of staying together.”

  Gina’s exam room door opened once more and Lauren guided her out in a wheelchair. Gina’s coppery eyes had darkened to aged bronze and were wide with fear. Her hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair so tightly that the veins stood out in stark relief against the whiteness of her skin.

  “We’re ready,” Lauren said. “Are you guys coming?”

  “We’re right behind you,” Grant said.

  Chapter 7

  Lauren was wheeling Gina into the small conference room when nausea suddenly struck again, this time with stomach cramps. As she emitted a soft moan, she squeezed the handles of the wheelchair and gritted her teeth to keep from doubling over.

  Gina turned to look up at her. “Lauren?”

  All Lauren could do was nod, taking a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth, using the old trick she often suggested to patients.

  She couldn’t get sick now, had to get through this meeting. Gina needed her support.

  Dr. Sheldon stepped up behind her and touched her elbow. “Is something wrong?”

  Lauren shook her head, took another practiced breath and felt a flash of perspiration bead her face. She had to concentrate.

  Archer joined them. “Lauren, you don’t look so great.”

  She rolled her eyes and nodded. Talk about your sensitive men. She would never forgive herself if she created a spectacle by rushing from the room, leaving poor Gina feeling isolated. Of course, it probably wouldn’t help things if she lost her dinner in the middle of the conference, either.

  With a final deep breath, Lauren settled Gina at the table then turned to find Dr. Sheldon pulling a chair out for her. She thanked him and sank down.

  He leaned closer until she caught a faint scent of aftershave that smelled like crushed citrus leaves. “Pardon me for being blunt but are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  “I need to help Gina through this meeting.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Phenergan would be nice but there’s no time.”

  He nodded. “I’ll get you some as soon as this is over.” He excused himself and stepped around to sit at Gina’s other side.

  Rose Pascal entered at her usual brisk pace, carrying an armload of cold sodas from the machine in the ER waiting room. Lauren accepted one gratefully and held it to her face for a moment, ignoring the curious glances she received. Its bracing coolness gave some relief. She popped the top and took several hesitant sips. It stayed down. She leaned back in her chair. Maybe this would just go away again.

  Along with Dr. Sheldon and Archer Pierce, who both sat to Gina’s right, the meeting participants consisted of Gina’s neighbor, Agnes Walker; the hospital social worker, Rose Pascal; and the IIS therapist, whom Rose introduced as Natalie Frasier. The therapist was a tall young woman who was so slender she appeared to be all
sharp angles. She was probably in her late twenties or early thirties, with a serious, earnest expression on her long face. Several times Lauren noticed her casting Gina curious, compassionate glances.

  There was no evidence of the friendly chatter and jokes that often accompanied conferences in this room but Lauren had been to a wraparound meeting before; they were often tense.

  Rose chatted quietly with Natalie, who was seated at the far end of the table with her note pad and ink pen. Gina stared at the table without acknowledging anybody.

  As soon as everyone settled, Rose called the meeting to order, made introductions, and gave a brief overview of Gina’s predicament. Rose had short gray-blond hair and gentle gray eyes with laugh lines radiating from them; her voice had a decided Ozark accent-heavy on the r’s.

  As the hospital social worker spoke, Gina’s tension seemed to radiate across the room. She clasped her hands together on the table. Her fingertips whitened. Lauren stole a quick look at her face and saw her full lips drawn into a tight line.

  “Gina, I’m not gonna bite,” Rose said. “We’re havin’ this meeting to find out how we can help your family stay together while we keep your children safe.”

  Gina nodded without looking up.

  At Rose’s request, Dr. Sheldon quoted Gina’s test results. They revealed nothing helpful. Neurologically she was normal. She tested negative for drugs and her chemical levels were comparable to the normal numbers she’d had on her employment physical.

  “What about blood sugar?” Gina asked softly, still staring at her hands clasped at the table.

  “Eighty,” Grant replied.

  Gina issued a soft sigh and shook her head. “Normal?”

  Lauren empathized. If they’d discovered a blood sugar problem they would have something with which to work.

  “I want to emphasize one thing.” Dr. Sheldon closed the folder. “I observed Gina interacting with her children when she was reunited with them tonight. They were happy and talkative, with very trusting, loving dispositions. Both children appear well cared for and well behaved.”

  “They are very sweet children. I visited with them for a little bit.” Rose leaned forward. “Gina, don’t you remember anything about tonight’s episode?”