As he closed his eyes, Marley’s smiling face appeared. After a few seconds, her face dissolved into blackness.
Aaron tossed and turned for hours, drifting off to sleep at about 3:00 a.m.
Chapter 37
Stella connected with the Sunday morning sermon; it was about the power of forgiveness.
She found herself walking toward the exit next to Myra Benningham.
“How’s Preston doing?” Stella said.
“Much better, thanks.”
“Is he here?”
“No, he and his dad are at the movies.”
“They’re doing things together. That’s good.”
Myra stopped and turned to Stella. “I’m headed out for a meal, along with most everybody else. Why don’t we have lunch together?”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
Stella followed Myra’s car to a restaurant not far away. Soon they sat at a table across from each other with their food from the Sunday brunch buffet.
“Can you tell me more about Preston?” Stella said. “I have a special interest in his progress as he’s one of our patients.”
Myra sipped her iced tea. “Preston is in a twelve-step program, and he’s been going to the meetings. He seems committed to recovering.” She smiled. “For the first time in years, we have real hope.”
“I’m so glad to hear that he’s improving.” Stella shook her head. “He’s had such a tough road.”
“He talks with me again, like the old days. He’s eating healthy. It’s wonderful. He even asked us to give his gun away.”
“I’m sure glad he didn’t squeeze the trigger that day in our clinic.”
“Me, too. We’ve had it locked up since then.” Myra cocked her head. “I think he shot his gun only one time that I heard about.”
“He shot his gun? You mean, at someone?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“When was that?”
“I think about two years ago or so. Brad refuses to talk to me about it.”
Stella gulped her bite of ham and cheese omelette and coughed. “Two years ago?”
“I think that’s about right.”
“Where did this happen?”
“I don’t know for certain. I think it was close by, in town. I just have a vague impression of the whole thing.”
Stella stood up. An image of her dead son’s smiling face floated across her vision. She was breathing fast, and she fanned her face with her napkin.
“Stella, are you all right?”
“I’m sorry. I have to go now.” Stella turned and stumbled out of the restaurant. She sat on a bench outside for several minutes, then walked to her car and drove away.
****
Late that afternoon, Brad and Myra Benningham sat in their living room, sipping coffee.
“We had a great day at the movies. He’s different this time,” Brad said, his arm around Myra’s shoulders.
Myra smiled. “Yes, he is. He seems more like the old Preston to me.”
They were silent for several minutes, gazing out the front window.
Brad sighed. “I have to make up for lost time.”
“That will be good for him and you.”
Myra turned to him. “After church today, I had lunch with Stella. I told her about Preston, that he’s doing better and he wanted us to give his gun away.”
“I’ll bet that made her happy. He really scared her with his gun in the clinic that day.”
“She got upset about something. I told her I seemed to remember that Preston shot his gun once.”
Brad lifted his arm from Myra and sat up. “Why did you tell her that? She doesn’t need to know that.”
“So, I’m right? He did shoot his gun? Was anyone hurt?”
Brad stood up and pointed at her. “It’s of no concern to you or anyone. Don’t mention it again.” He whirled around and walked away.
He struck his fist into the palm of his hand. I have to make this go away. It can’t come out.
Chapter 38
On Sunday afternoon, eight days after his spinal injury, Forrester Brighton was transferred to the rehabilitation center. Marley helped Cristal sing every song they could think of during their drive to visit Forrester at the center.
Cristal was first into Forrester’s room. He smiled and held out his arms. “Good morning, my little princess.”
She hugged his arm. “Daddy. I’m glad you’re coming home.”
Marley walked up to the bed and Forrester hugged her with his other arm. “It’ll be so good to be back with you,” he said.
Marley had arranged their home to accommodate the new Forrester. She felt a renewed excitement because Forrester was back with her, for good. At times, when she wasn’t busy with this new challenge, images of a smiling or an embarrassed Aaron would pop into her mind.
You’ll be a good man for some lucky woman, she thought. It just wasn’t meant to be for us.
During the next few months, Forrester spent many hours in rehab, learning to maneuver with his arms, use a wheelchair, and catheterize his bladder. Cristal was at his side whenever she could manage to be. Marley would patiently reorient him during his periodic memory lapses.
Forrester never asked about Eve again.
Chapter 39
Aaron’s hands twitched on the steering wheel on his way to work Monday morning. I’ve got to be sleep-deprived. Maybe I should think about a sleep medicine.
He opened the door of a room to see his first patient of the day.
“Hi, Dale. Are you going fishing anytime soon?”
“No, but I’ll sure ‘nuf let you know when I do.”
Dale McCorkindale sighed and looked at Aaron with wide eyes. “I think I’ve got VD. There’s a discharge and it hurts to pee.”
Aaron examined Dale’s abdomen and genitals and nodded. “Yep, gonorrhea or chlamydia, or both. I’ll culture it and find out. In the meantime, I’ll start antibiotics.”
“You don’t think I could get HIV, too, do you?”
“I’ll order tests for the other STDs. We’ll check it all out.”
“I’ve been thinking. You can pick this up from toilet seats, right? Tell me you can.”
“Ah, the wife doesn’t know,” Aaron said.
“She’s already suspicious, but she’ll believe the toilet seat story. So, what do you say?”
“I don’t think it ever happens that way, but I guess anything’s possible.”
Dale hopped up and pumped Aaron’s hand. “I’m beholden to you, Doc.”
“I advise that you contact your recent liaisons and let them know so they can get checked out.”
Dale beamed his best salesman’s glistening-teeth smile and released his grip. “Sure. Anything you say.”
Aaron motioned at the chair. “Wait in here. You’ll need a shot and then I’ll get you a prescription for oral antibiotics and an order for lab tests.”
Aaron turned around at the door of the room. “I’ve been thinking about a pickup truck.”
Dale gave Aaron a thumbs-up. “Now you’re talking.”
“I’m looking at classic trucks online.”
“A classic. Good. I follow the classics market. What got you interested?”
“Oh, a friend of mine.” Aaron looked up. He saw an image of a smiling Rocky Donnigan standing in his auto shop. Thanks, Rocky. I’ll make it a good one.
“Do you have anything in mind?” Dale said.
“What are your favorites?”
Dale pulled on his earlobe. “Well, if you want a real classic, you can’t go wrong with the very first Ford F-1 truck, 1948, a beauty. The first in the F-Series.”
“I’m interested.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
I’ll study the market, too. So, don’t try to rip me off.
“Stop by the dealership any ol’ time. I’m there more than ever now, since I had to kick my CFO’s butt out the door.”
Aaron’s eyes widened. “What happened?”<
br />
Dale crossed his arms. “Oh, he and I didn’t see eye to eye on the books.”
Aaron walked out into the hallway. I wonder what he meant by that.
Late afternoon, Aaron opened the door of a patient room and stopped in the doorway.
“Rachel. From the hospital, right? I visited your office a few weeks ago and you helped me with medical information about the Taggett family.”
She nodded. “You remember me.” She was seated in a chair along the wall.
Aaron closed the door. “What can I do for you today?”
Rachel held out her right hand. “Something bit me on my hand a couple of days ago. Do you think it’s a spider bite?”
Aaron examined her skin and saw a small red lesion surrounded by mild swelling on the back of her hand. “It looks like you’re having a local allergic reaction to an insect bite. It doesn’t appear to be one of the spider bites that we worry about.”
Rachel sighed. “Good.”
“Just put cool compresses on the bite off and on and take Benadryl, and elevate your hand when you can. You should be fine.”
Rachel stood and smiled at Aaron. “Thank you.”
He hesitated before he opened the door for her. I remember those dimples.
“How’s the hospital business?” he said.
“Challenging, as always.” She stopped and looked up at him. “I was wondering …”
“Yes?”
She looked away. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
Aaron watched her walk out. And, I remember those bright green eyes.
He was smiling after her when the clinic door burst open. Constable Greevy stumbled into the waiting room.
“Doc, you’ve got to help me.” His eyes were wide.
“What’s happened?” Aaron said.
“I haven’t slept in days. I think Wanda’s voodoo curse is driving me batty.”
Stella walked over to him and held up her hand. “Wait a minute. Remember, people can get sick from worrying about a voodoo curse and not from any real effect of the curse itself.”
Aaron nodded. “That makes sense. You’re just stressing yourself over that curse.”
“Well, that may be, but I’m not taking any chances.” Keller pulled a doll out of his pocket. “I made a felt poppet to break the curse.” He held up a white doll with eyes and a smile painted on its face. Irregular lumps distorted the body of the doll.
“You put something inside it?” Stella said.
“Black onyx and coffee grounds. They help the poppet break the curse on me.” He read from a sheet of paper. “But I need vetivert herb to put in the poppet, and patchouli oil, garlic powder, and a purple candle. It says to break a curse once and for all, I should write my name on a purple candle, and pour the oil over the candle and garlic powder over the poppet, then let the candle burn all the way down.” He looked up at Aaron. “Do you know anything about this stuff? Can you prescribe any of it for me?”
Stella shook her head. “You don’t need a prescription. You can usually find those things online or in a store that sells herbs and essential oils.”
“Okay, then. That’s my next stop. Wish me luck.” Keller started for the door and then turned to Aaron. “Heard anything from your machete guy?”
“Don’t worry. That’s all behind me now.”
Keller cocked his head. “Is that so? Want to tell me about it?”
“Not especially. It’s all good.”
Keller stared at Aaron, and then shook his head. “All right. One less thing for me to worry about. We haven’t found him anyway.” He pushed the door open and left.
At the end of their workday, Stella locked the front door and stood outside with Aaron.
He touched her shoulder. “Are you not feeling well? You look down.”
“I’m trying to solve a mystery.”
“A mystery? What—”
Stella held up her hand. “Don’t ask.” She walked away.
Aaron put his hand to his eyes. He had felt dizzy spells off and on all day.
Aaron stood outside his house and inspected the nearby trees for the hooting owl. Hello up there. I haven’t heard you for a while.
He fired up his Volvo. I’m in need of my happy hour wine, especially with all the craziness around here. Wine always smooths me out.
Aaron spotted Red at the corner of the bar, swirling his brandy. He sat beside him and ordered a tomato and avocado salad and cabernet wine. “Is everything all right?” Aaron said.
Red sipped his brandy. “I imagine.”
Aaron sampled his wine and nodded his approval to the bartender.
“Are you settling in here okay?” Red said.
“I’m not sure. I’m still trying to get my bearings.”
“Some things take time.”
Aaron sighed. “You may be right.” He drank from his wine glass and turned to Red. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what did you do after the war?”
“I went to college.”
“What was your major?”
“Biology.”
Aaron nodded. “That was my major, too. So what did you do with a biology degree?”
Red smiled at Aaron. “Same as you.”
“You went to medical school?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What kind of doctor were you?”
Red stared at his brandy. “Psychiatrist.”
“That must have been a challenging career.”
“It was.”
“I’ve met only a couple of psychiatrists. Did you do office and hospital practice?”
“I did just about everything. I got heavy into forensics in the last years. Most of the lawyers and judges that deal with mental health in these parts know me pretty well.”
Aaron leaned toward him. “We’ve needed forensics around here recently. I’ve just met my first serial killer.”
Red turned to him. “Welcome to the club.”
Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Sure, I imagine in forensics, you dealt a lot with the work of crazy murderers.”
Red stopped swirling his brandy. His head dropped and he closed his eyes.
Aaron looked down and took a bite of salad. Oh, boy. I touched a raw nerve.
Aaron glanced at Red a few times out of the corner of his eye. Red’s eyes were closed.
After several minutes, Red lifted his head and looked ahead of him. “I went out in a bad way. There was a patient I had treated for years. His family and I were friends. One day, he was confiding in me his thoughts and fantasies. It was a typical session, part of his usual therapy.” Red shook his head. “I didn’t catch on to one particular fantasy he talked about. At the time, it didn’t seem any different from the way his mind always worked. But as it turned out, it was different.”
“What happened?”
“He told me he dreamed about killing people, and he heard voices that commanded him to murder. That was a fantasy he often had. We’d work through it over time in therapy and with medication. Only this time, he didn’t let go of it.” Red closed his eyes. “Two days after the last session, he shot and killed everyone in his family.”
Aaron put down his fork. “How could anyone have prevented that? How’s a psychiatrist to know?”
“It’s hard. I keep going over it. I don’t know if I did anything wrong.” Red rubbed his forehead. “I just don’t know, but I think I may have missed something, a warning signal. Maybe my guard was down.”
“When did it happen?”
“A few years ago. I retired a year later.” Red sighed. “It wasn’t the same after that. I wasn’t the same.” He swallowed the last drop of brandy. “No one is perfect. But doctors like us aren’t supposed to make mistakes.”
Aaron snorted. “How well do I know that.”
“When they do, they have a veneer, a shell, that usually shields them from the pain.” Red pushed his chair back. “My shell didn’t protect me that time.” He stood and put a shaky hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Thanks for listening.”<
br />
Red hesitated on his way out and looked back at Aaron. He waved his hand and gave a slight nod, and then he was gone.
Chapter 40
Aaron stopped as he was about to open the front door of his clinic. No birds were chirping this morning, and the air was heavy and still. He turned as he heard a faint moaning behind him.
It came from deep within the Big Thicket forest across the road. It’s the trees, Aaron thought. And Race Taggett is in there, somewhere.
A chill shot down his spine. He opened the door and hurried inside.
Stella looked up from behind the registration counter. “Is anything wrong? Your eyes are bloodshot.”
Aaron took a few deep breaths. “This has been a rough couple of weeks for me.”
Later in the morning, Stella directed Preston Benningham into a patient room. He was no longer wearing the shoulder sling.
Stella paused at the door, her lips taut. “Can I talk with you before you leave?”
Preston nodded. “Sure.”
Stella moved away as Aaron walked into the room. “How’s the shoulder?”
“It’s getting better.”
Aaron examined Preston and the shoulder injury. “You do look different somehow.”
“I’ve been to all my support sessions. I’m going to kick this addiction thing.”
“I think you can.”
“I’m lucky to be alive. To have parents like I do. I’m not going to blow it this time.”
Aaron touched his arm. “I believe you.”
A smile covered Preston’s face. “Dad’s taking me deer hunting.”
Aaron gave him a thumbs-up.
Preston slid down from the table and walked toward the door. He stopped and turned to Aaron, his eyes moistened with tears. “Rocky died for me. He tried to help me. I think about him all the time.”
“Rocky had a good heart.”
“I’ll never forget the way his face looked when they lifted him into the ambulance.”
“What about his face?”
“He was smiling.”
Aaron sighed. “That’s a good memory. He was already in a better place.”
****
Preston stopped as he walked toward the front door of the clinic. Stella stared at him from a chair behind the registration counter.
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