Second Opinion

by Alexander, Hannah

  “I don’t.” Gina’s voice and eyes hardened. “Levi and Cody are my only family now.”

  “What about your sister?”

  “She’s five years older than me. She’s the one who turned out like my mother. She hates me just as much. After my father died I learned the meaning of pain. Few days went by that I didn’t receive at least a slap in the face from my sister for some imagined slight. It made my mother laugh.”

  “Your mother allowed your sister to abuse you like that?”

  “Allowed? She encouraged it. My mother didn’t hit me that often. She just let her anger build. I could see it coming for days and then when she went into a rage even my sister wasn’t safe. I learned early to run away when Mother began to yell. It was like a shriek of warning.”

  “Oh, Gina.”

  “Two years after my father died, my mother remarried. I was excited, because I thought a stepfather would be a friend.” She closed her eyes. “He wasn’t.”

  “Did he hurt you too?”

  “He made passes at me. He never forced it but he kept trying. One day my mother was in the laundry room that connected to the kitchen pantry while I was cooking supper. He didn’t know she was there. He came up behind me and…he said something disgusting. She heard him. She came storming out of that laundry room like she was going to kill me.”

  “She blamed you?”

  Gina nodded. “She punched me in the face and shoved me into the stove. My blouse caught fire and it burned my stomach. Three weeks ago when I found out Levi had been burned, I felt as if history was repeating itself no matter how hard I’ve tried to keep it from happening. It’s like some evil cosmic game.”

  “No, Gina. It doesn’t work that way. You’re a logical human being and you know—”

  “Just listen to me.” Taking care not to dislodge the electrodes on her chest, Gina swung her feet over the side of the bed and leaned closer to Lauren. “Tell me if you don’t think there’s some kind of pattern. I was twelve when that happened. I went to school with a black eye from my mother’s fists and when I was undressing for gym some of the other girls saw my burned stomach. They reported it to a teacher and Social Services stuck its nose into the mess.”

  Tears of sympathy stung Lauren’s eyes. She swallowed them back.

  “They took me out of my home and placed me in foster care,” Gina said. “They seemed to think that would make everything better. It didn’t.”

  “You must have been frightened.”

  “I was terrified. I didn’t want to stay with my mother and sister but I didn’t want to live with strangers either. When my father’s Aunt Bridget found out about it and asked for custody, they didn’t allow it because she had a history of wild bi-polar swings. My mother got a real kick out of the fact that only a crazy lady would want me. Every time she saw me afterward she reminded me of it. She told me I was going to turn out just like Aunt Bridget.”

  “What were the foster homes like?”

  “Confusing. Frightening. Awkward for them and horrible for me. Any time someone raised a voice in anger, I ran. I couldn’t help it. I was too scared. I went through four foster homes in two years. They finally gave up on me and allowed me to stay with Aunt Bridget in spite of her history. They didn’t have a choice.”

  “Have you been in touch with your aunt?”

  “She died two months before I graduated from high school.” Gina’s voice caught and she fought a visible battle with tears. “Those years with her were the best years I can remember in my life and I owe her everything. When she left her estate to me, my mother and sister were livid. They protested in court but Aunt Bridget’s attorney was prepared for them. It wasn’t a fortune but it got me through college and gave me a good down payment on my home.”

  “Okay I’ll do it.”

  Gina’s eyes widened. “You’ll take care of Levi and Cody?”

  “If something happens to you. Which it won’t.”

  Some of the strain disappeared from around Gina’s eyes and mouth. The relief in the room was palpable.

  “I still feel as if I’m paying for my family’s evil.”

  “No wonder you have trouble trusting.”

  “I trust you, Lauren.”

  “That’s a start.”

  “I heard voices,” Gina whispered. “If I have inherited a mental illness, who’s going to know how to treat that?”

  “Could you be hearing your mother’s voice? Maybe your sister’s. What you’re experiencing could be leftover fear from your childhood.”

  “You mean repressed memories?”

  “Not repressed. You obviously remember them too well, you just haven’t been able to deal with them. That was apparent to me immediately, because you’ve been so unwilling to talk about it before now.”

  There was a soft knock at the door and Grant stepped inside. He held a two-page printout, obviously the report on Gina’s blood tests. He looked discouraged. “Lauren, you can disconnect Gina from the monitor now. She’s in excellent physical condition.”

  Chapter 21

  Grant sat at his desk with stacks of reports in front of him. It took all his will not to toss one particular stack in the trash. Or across the room.

  He rubbed his eyes, fatigued beyond reason.

  When was the last time he’d experienced this many conflicting emotions within the space of a few hours? He had never considered himself a particularly emotional man. Annette, of course, had insisted differently.

  Today he’d gone from frustration with Brooke’s attitude to elation with Lauren’s company, from humiliation when the fishhook ripped his pants to exhilaration when he thought they might finally discover what was wrong with Gina. That hadn’t worked out. And now this.

  He should have known what was coming when he saw the sheriff standing in the doorway to his office.

  Grant shoved the pages to the side of the desk. The autopsy report on poor Mrs. Henson had cleared him of any blame but that gave him no comfort. She’d died from sudden cardiac death secondary to lethal arrhythmia. There was no stroke. There was no blockage of arteries. Case closed. It did not tell him why she had been so sick the night before she died and therefore it couldn’t give him any clues as to why so many more people were developing symptoms of the illness.

  He glared at the sheaf of stapled pages of interrogatories from a St. Louis law firm that specialized in personal injury claims. He’d seen their name on billboards and television ads in St. Louis.

  “Knock-knock,” came a friendly male voice from the open doorway.

  Grant turned and motioned for Archer to come in.

  “Any findings?”

  “None.”

  Archer sighed and slumped into a chair beside the desk. “Frustrating. Where is she now?”

  Grant pointed toward the flower garden outside the window where Lauren and Gina strolled shoulder to shoulder between brightly colored rows of varied blooms. At least Gina seemed to be opening up to someone.

  “If it’s frustrating to us, imagine how much worse it must be for her,” Archer said. “I’m glad Lauren’s working her usual miracle.”

  Grant shrugged away his depression and concentrated on what Archer was saying. “Miracle?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s God who works the actual miracles but sometimes it seems to me as if Lauren serves as a sort of vessel for them to flow through.”

  Grant knew what he meant. Annette had been that way.

  “She’s got this kind of radar that picks up on hurting people,” Archer continued. “Where most people might avoid someone like Gina and her problems, Lauren dives in up to her neck, the way she did the first time Gina came in here. I’ve seen her do it a lot of times over the years.” There was no way to miss the note of admiration in his voice or the affectionate smile on Archer’s face as he, too, watched Lauren through the window.

  Grant turned his back to the depressing burden on his desk and studied Archer closely. “All that and she’s single.”

&
nbsp; “Maybe there’s a reason she is.”

  “You mean because she’s too busy for a relationship?”

  Archer considered that for a moment. “Maybe this is a time in her life when God has chosen her to pour herself out for others. Someone who is married will naturally spend more time with a spouse.”

  “Is that why you’re still single?” The words were out of Grant’s mouth before he could stop them.

  Archer’s eyes flickered with a note of discomfort. “Good question.”

  “I’m sorry. I know you had a broken engagement, I just didn’t think—“

  “It’s okay. I’ve wondered about that a few times. When Jessica broke our engagement it seemed as if God was trying to tell me something about the necessity for singleness of purpose. Now I’m thinking maybe I just tried to move things along a little too quickly, going by my own timetable instead of God’s.”

  “You mean you might consider marriage with the right person?”

  “I already know the right person. My church thinks that the pastorate needs a husband and a wife to do the job. I can’t keep up with all the responsibilities by myself.”

  “Maybe your church expects too much from a pastor.”

  A hint of a smile touched Archer’s eyes. “I’ve thought of that too.”

  “I’ve noticed Lauren helps you a lot,” Grant said.

  “She does and I need to stop taking advantage of her generous nature.”

  “But she seems to enjoy it. She was having fun today. I know she was looking forward to your arrival.” It had been obvious.

  “Really?” A hint of a frown touched Archer’s eyes. “I can’t imagine why. I usually scare all the fish off.”

  “You couldn’t possibly be as bad as Brooke.”

  The frown disappeared. “I wouldn’t bet on that. Did you have a good time?”

  “If snakes, limburger cheese, torn pants, and screaming teenagers are your idea of fun I highly recommend it.”

  “I think Jessica might have enjoyed it immensely.”

  “Jessica?”

  “My ex-fiancée.” A thoughtful smile touched the pastor’s eyes. “Maybe she won’t be an ex for long, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “I believe she might be coming around. We’re friends. That’s the best way to build a stronger future, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Grant was happy for Archer but for Lauren’s sake he couldn’t help feeling a twist of sympathy. She obviously felt more for the man than simple friendship. Could Archer be so clueless? Maybe he chose to ignore an uncomfortable situation.

  Or maybe Grant was being overly analytical because he was struggling with that invasive little attraction bug himself right now.

  “A wife would probably keep the normal small-town gossip to a minimum,” Archer said.

  “That isn’t a good reason to get married.”

  “Of course not.” Archer stared out the window and into the distance. “But this town needs something to kill out the nasty rumor mill.”

  Grant didn’t ask what ugly lie had placed that sudden chill in Archer’s expression. “Friendship is the most important thing for a solid, lasting marriage. I’m glad you’re wise enough to know it.” Though Grant couldn’t always close his eyes and picture Annette’s face, he could still feel the overwhelming emptiness in his heart. “That’s what I miss the most about my wife. She was my best friend on earth.” He missed her now especially. If she were still alive he would have immediately picked up the telephone and told her about the letter from the attorneys. She would have reassured him and been on his side. She would have contacted the best attorney she could find.

  “I think your wife must have been a wonderful person,” Archer said quietly.

  “She was.” Grant looked out across the broad hospital lawn again and watched as Lauren and Gina took a seat on a concrete bench in the center of the flower garden beneath the shade of a weeping willow.

  Far to the right of them near the parking lot, Brooke’s bright red T-shirt and shorts flashed in the sunshine, practically iridescent with the movements of her body. Brooke was never still. It was as if she had twice the energy of her quiet brother, who sat in silence beside Evan Webster on another concrete bench. Both boys watched Brooke, listening to whatever wild tale she was telling them.

  Grant felt a familiar tug at his heart. He wanted so much for his children. But just as Archer felt he needed a wife to help with church responsibilities, Grant needed his wife here to be the mother of his children, to guide them in ways he couldn’t.

  “I’ll be free the rest of the afternoon to go fishing if you still want to try it,” Archer said. “That is if Gina’s going to be okay.”

  Grant nodded. “She’s eager to get back to work but Lauren forestalled her for a while. I’m not sure we can stick another fishing pole in Brooke’s hand but I’m willing to give it a run.” Once again, Grant’s eyes strayed to the offending papers. He couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for the idea of fishing but he knew the diversion would do him good. It would be good for the kids too.

  Archer studied Grant’s face more closely. “Something else is going on here. What is it?”

  Grant sighed and reached for the interrogatories. “I’m being sued for malpractice.”

  ***

  While Archer waited for Grant and Lauren to wrap up a meeting with Gina’s supervisor and unruffle some feathers with the IIS therapist, who was trying so hard to convince Gina to trust her, he strolled down the familiar main hallway of Dogwood Springs Hospital, praying as he went.

  Grant needed direction. Gina appeared to need divine intervention immediately. Archer tried not to brood about the painful meeting with his personal referees. It was difficult considering that this very hospital was reportedly the origin of the mean-spirited gossip. Still, he had to tell himself that those three servants of the personnel committee meant well as far as their understanding went.

  But he still hotly resented their willingness to attack an innocent women merely on hospital gossip. He also resented their intrusion and their willingness to listen to outright lies about him. Though he tried to shake off that resentment he wasn’t having a lot of success.

  It disappointed him to realize that even though Mr. Netz and Mr. Hahnfeld had watched him grow up in “their” church since he was an infant, they were willing to believe he would father a child out of wedlock and then deny all responsibility for it.

  Even if they hadn’t known Lauren as long as he had, couldn’t they trust his judgment about her? What would make them even consider such a possibility?

  A stray question occurred to him but he quickly dashed it away.

  They should be able to trust his word. They should also know him well enough to give his friends the benefit of the doubt.

  What if they were listening not only to this one hospital rumor but also to suggestions whispered by others in the congregation?

  But he couldn’t even think like that. Lauren had always behaved with the utmost propriety, so even though she did, at times, seem to seek his company a little more often than she had in the past, and even though he had caught hints from some of the elderly ladies in the church family… and even just now from Grant….

  No. It wasn’t possible. Archer and Lauren had always been close. She was like a big sister. He was the one who’d had the crush when they were kids, not Lauren. She was obviously homesick right now. And since he was the only old familiar face around, it was understandable that she would gravitate to him for friendship.

  How could such influential members of his church be totally lacking in spiritual discernment? Did he really want to be the pastor of a church so worldly minded?

  And yet weren’t all churches like this? It was what this world was all about.

  Still, Lauren McCaffrey did not deserve this kind of treatment.

  Archer rounded a corner and strolled into the small gift shop that was run by volunteers from the community. He saw Mrs. Piedmont in her pink smock talking to
a prospective customer about a bouquet of flowers. When she caught sight of him her smile broadened in warm welcome and she waved at him. That smile soothed something inside him. At least she wasn’t paying any attention to unfounded rumors. Mrs. Piedmont walked closer to heaven every day. Archer knew he was being selfish to hope she lived well past a hundred.

  When he returned to the hallway and saw Fiona Perkins waddling toward him, Archer resisted the temptation to do an about-face and race away in the opposite direction.

  “Hi Archer.” She said it in a sly singsong voice that grated.

  He braced himself. “Fiona.”

  Chunky and awkward, Fiona unfortunately had a personality to match. She had curly black hair and wide-set pretty blue eyes but as Archer and others had learned the hard way, her attitude could curdle water. He reminded himself that she needed to experience the love of Christ as much as the rest of the world.

  She chugged up to stop at his side, peered into the gift shop as if to see what held his attention then looked back at him as a knowing grin creased her face. “Looking for someone?”

  “No, I just—”

  “She doesn’t work Fridays.” The grin broadened. “It’s her day off, same as you. But you already know that don’t you?”

  While Archer was biting back a caustic reply, Fiona waddled away. He headed in the opposite direction. Typical of Fiona to leave her little innuendoes wherever she went.

  One of the benefits of being born and raised for thirty-three years in one small Missouri town was familiarity with all the other natives, particularly with wonderful souls like Mrs. Piedmont.

  Ironically, with other souls who were not so benign, familiarity was one of the drawbacks. Many natives had a tendency to know too much about a person’s business.

  Fiona had moved to Dogwood Springs with her family when Archer was a senior in high school and she was a freshman. She hadn’t been overweight then but she had quickly become unpopular because of her spiteful spirit. When Archer went out of his way to be kind to her she developed a huge crush on him. Things went downhill from there.

  “I give up!”