Flowers from Iraq (The Storyteller and the Healer Book 1)

by Sunny Alexander

  “She’s doing fine, but she keeps talking about another passenger in the car, someone named Oscar.”

  “No other passenger. Hold on, let me check the report on that car.” Linc returned to the phone. “Doc, there was no person, but a cat was pulled out of the car and is at the vet’s. Ask your patient if Oscar has four legs and tell her he’s going to be okay.”

  Kathleen returned to Claire. “I think we’ve solved the mystery. Is Oscar your cat?”

  Claire nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

  “He’s at the vet’s and he’s going to be fine. So, his name is Oscar?”

  “Oscar Tilquist, the Third,” Claire replied, wincing as she pronounced the regal name.

  Kathleen was surprised at the name. Oscar she could understand, but Oscar Tilquist, the Third? Some pet owners really went overboard she supposed, with their “children.” “Well, you’ll both be okay. Someone will call the vet’s office later today and see how Oscar is doing. Would you like that?”

  Kathleen heard the softest “yes” and noticed that Claire seemed to have relaxed.

  Kathleen put the side of the bed down and undid the tie on Claire’s hospital gown. She put her stethoscope to Claire’s back, checked the bruises, and replaced the cold packs. She walked over to the medicine cabinet, prepared and gave Claire an injection, and watched as she relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

  Kathleen wrote in Claire’s patient chart and settled back into her chair. For a moment, before falling asleep, she wondered about the woman who wore a motorcycle jacket, had a tattoo on her arm, and a cat named Oscar Tilquist, the Third.

  Sam walked into the trauma room a little before seven in the morning. Doc and their patient were sleeping. He looked at Claire’s chart and saw that she had been examined and medicated two hours earlier. He left, got a cup of coffee, and settled into the chair opposite Doc. It didn’t make any sense to wake either of them.

  Sam remembered when he thought he was in love with Kathleen. It began when they had dinner at the China Bistro. There was something about her, an interest in him, without judgment, that allowed him to talk about his failed marriage with Marie. After his divorce, he swore he would keep his heart shut tightly. He never wanted to chance the pain and anger that seemed to follow love.

  Kathleen had opened his heart and touched him in places he thought were dead. Gradually, the feelings he had interpreted as love changed, and she began to feel like a best friend or the sister he never had. Without Kathleen, he wouldn’t have been able to fall in love and marry Helen. He owed her so much, more than she would ever know.

  Kathleen woke and blinked her eyes in an attempt to focus. As the space around her sharpened, she saw Claire in the hospital bed and Sam sitting across from her. She smiled when she saw Sam; it felt good to have a friend close by. “How’s Claire?”

  “She’s been stirring and groaning for the past few minutes. How are you doing?”

  “A little groggy and a crick in my neck. Nothing that coffee and a hot bath won’t fix.”

  “I checked her vitals. They’re excellent. I think we can remove her from the monitors.”

  Kathleen agreed. “Except for contusions and abrasions, she’s okay. I want to make sure she can empty her bladder on her own.”

  Claire stirred and Kathleen leaned over the hospital bed. “Hi, Claire. You’re doing really well, and you don’t need to be connected to these monitors.”

  Sam and Kathleen worked together to remove Claire from the monitors and settled her into a more comfortable position.

  “Better?”

  Claire nodded. “Yes, thank you. I didn’t break anything?”

  “No, but it may feel like it. Let Sam know if you’re having much pain. No more injections, though. I want you to start taking sips of water and clear broth. I’ll be back in a couple of hours to check on you.”

  Kathleen opened the door to her bathroom and sighed with relief, knowing that in a few minutes she would feel the curative powers of hot water.

  When Kathleen first saw Canfield House, she was disappointed that the five bedrooms on the top floor shared one outdated bathroom. She claimed one of the bedrooms that faced the valley as hers, and had an adjoining room remodeled into a closet and bathroom. It was the one personal luxury she allowed.

  The oversized stall shower was lined with tiles from a less fortunate Queen Anne home that had been razed to make room for a development. A rain dome showerhead hung from the ceiling and multiple height showerheads were placed on two of the tiled walls.

  The tub looked like the original claw tub, but was deeper and meant for soaking. Kathleen filled the tub and slowly lowered her body into the water. With a sigh, she allowed the hot water to sink into every pore and surrendered to the feeling of floating. Kathleen kept refilling the tub and soaked for more than an hour, knowing that the tankless “forever hot water heater” would guarantee hot water, always.

  Kathleen wrapped herself in an oversized beige bath towel. She glanced in the bathroom mirror, defocusing her eyes so that her reflection was blurred. She saw, but didn’t see. It was a trick she had learned many years ago when, as a teenager, she watched as her body changed and developed. She saw her chest begin to swell and hair pop up in new and strange places. She was embarrassed. She was ashamed. She had no friends her age to share the angst or excitement over her metamorphosis.

  Kathleen traced the scar that ran from her shoulder to her chest with her fingertips. The prominent scar only served to make her feel less attractive. The women she had been with had told her how bright or talented she was, but no one had told her she was pretty, and no one had stayed the night, ever.

  There were times when no matter how long she soaked or scrubbed, she couldn’t feel clean.

  There were times when no matter what she did, she couldn’t stop the bad feelings from creeping in.

  There were times when she was thrown into a place where emotional darkness reigned, and she was lost to the fear that seemed to be waiting around every corner.

  Kathleen crawled into bed, looked at the bottle of pain medication on the nightstand, and knew it would stay untouched. She needed to be self-reliant and in control of her physical and psychological pain. Kathleen lay on her left side and got into a fetal position with her knees bent tightly against her chest. The pressure on her scar was relieved; the pain began to evaporate and she fell into a sound sleep.

  She was startled to discover it was almost one in the afternoon. She felt a sense of panic. How did she sleep so long? She got dressed quickly and went downstairs. Sam had finished organizing one of the exam rooms and was busy on the second. A quick “hello” and an equally quick bite of breakfast and she was ready to see her patient.

  Kathleen opened the door to the trauma room and saw that the bed had been raised.

  Helen smiled. “Good afternoon, Dr. Moore. I didn’t think you would mind if I let Claire sit up for a few minutes.”

  Kathleen trusted Helen’s judgment, always. “I’m glad you did.”

  Kathleen took Claire’s pulse. “Your hands feel warm.” She took Claire’s temperature. “Your temperature is normal. Are your hands always this warm?”

  “Just sometimes, Dr. Moore.”

  “Why don’t you call me Kathleen?” She looked at Claire’s chart and saw that her vitals had remained within a normal range. “Have you had anything to eat or drink?”

  “Some clear broth, ice chips, and water.”

  “When I’m done examining you, Helen will make you some lunch. I want you on a soft diet for a day or two. Liquids are important, preferably water. I’m going to remove the cath and see if you can pee on your own. Are you having any headaches?”

  “Yes, it feels like caffeine withdrawal.”

  “I can understand that. Helen makes the best coffee. I want you to limit it to one cup, at least for now. Let me know if your headache doesn’t go away. Can you turn on your side for me?”

  Kathleen examined Claire’s back and reviewed the x
-rays from the previous night.

  “Do you remember the accident?”

  “Only that I got out of the car to take my boyfriend’s—” Claire faltered. “My ex-boyfriend’s jacket off. We had been on the phone, and he was really pissed that I had taken it, and I was pissed that he had an affair. I was going to mail it back to him. The last thing I remember was a really loud sound and then I woke up here.”

  “There’s not much left of the jacket. The paramedics had to cut if off. It’s here, but in pieces.” Kathleen started to smile and quickly changed back to a serious expression. She had an angry impulse to tell Claire to return the shredded jacket with a nasty note. “You can tell your boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend, that his jacket may have saved your life. You have some abrasions on the side of your face.” Kathleen touched her face, “right here, and on your hands, but they should heal without a problem. Your back took most of the impact, and that’s why you’ve got all these bruises. You’re going to be sore for a few days, but nothing was broken.”

  “Do you think I can get out of bed to use the bathroom?”

  “One thing at a time. Let’s see how you feel dangling your feet over the side of the bed. You can tackle the walking a little later. I’m going to leave the IV in for now. It will help keep you hydrated. You’re looking at a week to ten days for healing and another week to get your energy level back.”

  Kathleen decided to practice her bedside manner, brought to her attention by Colonel White during her evaluation and then by Mark, who had once memorably described it as “shitty.” “Tell me, Claire, where were you going when the accident happened?”

  “I was headed for Los Angeles. I have a job offer at a museum, creating exhibit displays.”

  “That sounds like a fun job. Where were you driving from?”

  “New York.”

  “That’s quite a drive.”

  Claire winced as Kathleen removed the cath. “I took a month off to visit friends. Santa Barbara was my last stop before LA. I’m supposed to start my job on Tuesday.”

  Kathleen shook her head and spoke in a clipped voice. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. You can call them on Monday and explain your situation. I would be looking at delaying your job by two, maybe, three weeks. Is there anyone we can call for you?”

  Claire shook her head. “I only have my grandma and I don’t want to scare her. I’ll have to call her tonight, though. I promised I would call every night while I’m on this trip.”

  “There’s a phone on the table next to your bed. You can use that to make your calls. Do you have any other questions?” Kathleen’s voice still sounded like someone had put starch in it. She had lapsed into her frosty clinician mode and didn’t even realize it.

  “My things? My cat?”

  “I’ll ask the sheriff to bring everything over, and we’ll call the vet’s office to see how Oscar is feeling. In the meantime, Helen will take good care of you, and I’ll check back in a couple of hours.”

  Claire’s shoulders slumped and tears formed as she reacted to Kathleen’s sudden change in demeanor. She reached for a tissue to wipe her eyes. “I guess this is a stressful time for Dr. Moore, trying to get her offices opened and having to take care of me.”

  Helen smoothed the bedding. “Are you referring to her bedside manner? I’ll admit it could use a little spit and polish sometimes. But you could look a long way and not find a finer doctor. If you’re looking for warm and fuzzy, that was her warm and fuzzy.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Helen was born into an ordinary family, was raised in an ordinary, mid-sized city, and thought of herself as ordinary. She did admit to having one unusual talent. She was a born matchmaker. Helen considered her matchmaking skills to be a gift from God and could, therefore, remain comfortable in her perception of being ordinary.

  It had been years since Helen had felt the allure that told her a match was in the making. One day the gift was there, and the next morning it was gone. She felt different, as if some deity had reached inside her and blew out a spark.

  But over the past few days, since the accident happened and Claire arrived, she began to suspect that her matchmaking instincts had only been dormant and were, once again, on the rise. She watched Kathleen and Claire talking and interacting and thought she saw that certain spark developing in their eyes. She wondered if that something special might be there for them. Helen felt that “love was in the air,” and she was ready to put her talent to the test.

  Kathleen had put her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a red and white checkered shirt. Not-so-white sneakers completed her “I have to get something done” outfit.

  Helen fixed a breakfast tray for Claire. “Kathleen, are you on your way to see Claire?”

  Kathleen spoke absentmindedly as she reached for a slice of toast. “Mm-hmm, it’s time to discharge her.”

  “Poor girl. I don’t think she has any place to go, and here you are with all those spare rooms upstairs. Maybe she could stay here for a couple of weeks and recuperate.”

  Kathleen thought for a moment. Well, why not? What’s the harm in extending help to someone without a car or a place to go? She smiled at Helen. “Thanks for thinking of it. I’ll talk to her.”

  Helen returned the smile. “Oh, you’re welcome. I’m really bogged down with phone calls. Would you mind bringing Claire her breakfast? I’ve got a mug of coffee for you, too.”

  Kathleen carried the tray with two mugs of coffee and breakfast for Claire. Helen knew how much both girls enjoyed their coffee and had added homemade banana bread and fresh fruit to the tray.

  Claire was sitting on the bed with the phone in her hand. “They can’t hold my job,” she announced dismally.

  Kathleen put the tray on the table next to the bed and sat down. “I’m really sorry.”

  Claire wiped her eyes. “I want to thank you for everything. You really did save my life. Is there a hotel in town? I need a place to stay until I can travel to Los Angeles.”

  “There’s no hotel but there is a bed and breakfast that’s quite charming. I stayed there for a few days.” Kathleen was quiet and sipped her coffee. “I don’t know if they take cats, though.”

  Claire nodded. “I can call them later. Maybe they’ll be okay with Oscar. I don’t have an address to give you, and I’d like to pay your bill before I leave, if that’s possible.”

  “There won’t be a bill from me.”

  Claire looked surprised. “I really can’t accept that, it doesn’t feel right to me.”

  “Okay.” Kathleen took a prescription pad and wrote, “For Medical Services provided to Claire Hollander, two dollars.”

  Kathleen handed her bill to Claire.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s just say that someone helped me when times were tough and I’m paying it back,” said Kathleen. “We do need this room but I’ve got three spare bedrooms upstairs. You might feel fine now, but you’ve gone through a trauma and I don’t want it to bite you later on. Helen and I were talking and we both agree it would be a good idea for you to stay here to recuperate. It’ll give you a chance to decide on your next step.”

  As she rose to leave, Kathleen said over her shoulder, “Why don’t you have your breakfast and I’ll come back in a couple of hours to give you a final exam and discharge you.”

  Claire smiled. “From patient to guest?”

  “From patient to guest.”

  There was a flurry of activity in the guest room with Helen acting as director. Linc brought all of Claire’s belongings and gave her the sad news that her car was totaled. Linc looked at her carefully. “I have just the right car for you. I can tell you’re a VW girl.” Claire looked surprised, and by that look, Linc knew he was right.

  Helen called the vet, and assigned Kathleen to pick up Oscar that afternoon. She gave Kathleen a list of cat supplies and sent her on her way. Kathleen wondered if there was anything that Helen didn’t know how to handle.

 
Kathleen got in her truck, said a little prayer that it would start, and left to rescue Oscar from the vet’s. Everywhere she stopped, people were waving to her and saying, “Good job, Doc,” or “Thanks a lot, Doc.” Kathleen was beginning to feel part of the town and guessed her nickname was going to stick wherever she went.

  By the time Kathleen returned to Canfield House, Sam and Helen had left for the day. She found a note from Helen:

  I’ve made barley soup and baked fresh bread. The salad is in the fridge. Would you bring Claire her dinner? It might be easier for her.

  P.S. Why don’t you eat with Claire? I think she may be lonely.

  Kathleen carried Oscar upstairs in his carrier. She knocked on the door and was taken aback when she saw Claire sitting on the floor. She was wearing a pink floral tank top and black leggings and had painted her toenails a bright pink. Her caramel-colored hair fell into ringlets above her shoulders. Gold hoop earrings danced as she turned toward Kathleen.

  Kathleen put the carrier on the floor and the bottle of antibiotics for Oscar on the nightstand, next to the book The Annotated Version of Sherlock Holmes. Kathleen thought, Aha, a clue! She’s a Sherlock Holmes fan.

  Quickly regaining her composure she said, “Here’s Oscar, a few cuts and bruises, but he’ll be as good as new in a day or two.” She watched as Claire opened the carrier and Oscar crawled onto her lap. He was a large gray tabby with four white paws and a grating meow. Oscar had a round head—slightly too big for his well-fed body—and huge, luminous green eyes. His wide mouth seemed to curl in an impish grin. Kathleen thought he looked exactly like Sir John Tenniel’s illustrations of the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

  Oscar, with a piercing tone, began mewing and mewing as if he was telling Claire about his adventure. Claire leaned over, kissed Oscar on his head, and spoke to him in mommy talk. She looked up and smiled. “Kathleen, I’d like you to meet Oscar Tilquist, the Third.”

  Kathleen sat on the floor next to Claire and rubbed Oscar’s head. “Hello, Oscar.” Oscar purred and arched his back. Kathleen looked at Claire and hinted, “I’d like to hear more about his name sometime.”