The Christmas Remedy

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Because of the stroke,” Lyle clarified.

  “You had the stroke that day?” David asked.

  “No, the stroke happened the day after, but I remember nothing of the day before.”

  “Oh.” David’s eyes held concern.

  Holly willed herself to sound calm. “Whether he remembers that day or not, I know that everything was handled within the legal guidelines, just like always.”

  David grimaced while offering a faint smile. “I’m sure. I’ve known Lyle since we were in college, and I know you all run a good, honest business, but the board doesn’t operate on good faith. Still, we must have the hard copies of the scripts the patient brought from the doctor to prove that when Lyle filled them that Sunday, each one was legit and from a physician.”

  “What happens if we don’t find the hard copies?” She had to ask, but surely they could find them.

  “Fines and possibly a sanction,” Lyle mumbled. “As much as twenty-five thousand dollars per script. But worse than the fines is a sanction, which means the pharmacy is not allowed to dispense prescriptions, and that can be anywhere from a few days to a few years.”

  Holly remembered the overdue bill from the medication supplier. With expenses like that, even if the sanction lasted only a few weeks, it wouldn’t matter. The pharmacy would close. Who knew regulations for pharmacies were this ridiculous?

  David smiled, looking sympathetic. “When everyone feels ready, I’ll go with Brandon to the computer to see what a search of ‘Sam Miller’ reveals. Holly, you go with Lyle to the storage room and pull the printed copies of scripts for October fifteenth. Lyle will direct you from there. He knows where all the hard copies are filed.”

  Holly knew where they were filed too, but she wasn’t going to correct him. “I’m sure this makes no difference, but with a name like Sam Miller and the fact that he came here to have a script filled, he’s likely to be Amish.” She gestured toward the door of the break room. “Let’s get started.” Her insides were spinning like a weather vane in a windstorm, but she feigned peace.

  Lyle stood, looking as uneasy as she felt. All four of them went to the gated section of the pharmacy.

  David and Brandon stopped at one of the computers while Lyle and Holly went to the storage room behind the pharmacy workstation. Holly waited as Lyle unlocked the door. He flicked on the lights, revealing stacks and stacks of boxes, each holding printouts of the scripts. There were more than two years of hard copies—some from doctors’ prescription pads and some digital prescription printouts—because the law required that a hard copy of the records be kept for two years.

  She’d been in this room a lot over the years, filing the hard copies. It used to be easy, peaceful work, but this time the pharmacy could be at stake. What if they couldn’t find the scripts? After Lyle’s stroke she hadn’t filed the hard copies as usual. Days passed before she caught up on her routine work, and even then she was distracted by concerns over Lyle’s well-being and the preparations for the health fair. What if their search for the scripts yielded nothing and it was her fault?

  She found the box marked October of this year, set it on the floor, and knelt. Lyle pulled up a step stool and sat beside her.

  Sam Miller. Sam Miller. She had heard that name recently, but where? Suddenly the image came flooding back into her mind. Wet grass, a nearly empty health fair, tears, and a blond, handsome meddler named Josh Smucker listing names of influential Amish families he could reach. It was fairly likely that someone named Sam Miller in these parts was Amish. Was it possible Josh might know the right Sam Miller? And if he did, would that be useful in any way?

  Brandon hung up the phone. “No answer, and the voice mail was automated and full. It’s possible he gave the pharmacy a number that’s not his primary number. I don’t understand how that’s a problem when most people own a cell, but it happens too often.”

  David sighed and wrote down another note. After more than half an hour of running searches in the computer and making calls, Brandon struggled to hide his mounting fury from the inspector. What had Dad been thinking? Did he actually make up five prescriptions and give them to this man Sam Miller? It didn’t sound like something his dad would’ve done in previous years, but it seemed that he was more willing to bend the rules when it came to his Amish patients. Did the desire to help the Amish combined with the possible mental effects of the impending stroke impede his judgment?

  David clicked his pen and closed the folder. “Let’s check on your dad.”

  Brandon went to the door of the storage room and tapped before opening it. Holly was on the floor with a large stack of printouts in her lap, and his dad was on a stool beside her.

  After David entered, Brandon closed the door. “Any hard copies of the scripts?”

  Holly’s shoulders slumped. “No. We’ve looked through all of October three times, and we found nothing for a Sam Miller. You?”

  Brandon shrugged. “Sort of. I found three Sam Millers in the system. Long story short, one of them came in Sunday, October fifteenth, so he’s our guy. We tried the number we had on the computer for him, but no one answered, and the voice mail is full. I think he may have listed some number other than his cell phone.”

  David wrote down another note. “Okay, here’s the deal. Because of the number of scripts and the consequences Greene’s could face, it would’ve been ideal to find the hard copies. But if you can’t come up with those, you must have proof of the scripts’ validity in another way. Brandon said he would review the security footage to see if he could tell what happened to the hard copies. Hopefully, you can reach Sam Miller to find out the name of the doctor who prescribed the medicines. I feel it can be done. Apparently it’ll take some time. The next board meeting isn’t until December eighteenth because we aren’t meeting in November, due to Thanksgiving. That gives you six weeks to find proof of the legitimacy of the scripts. Look in every corner of the store, under every desk, in every nook where small papers could’ve slid. Look slowly at each encounter on the security footage, searching for what may have happened. And let me know if there is anything I can do to help.” He offered his hand to Lyle.

  Lyle stood and shook it. “Take care, David. Can I walk you out?”

  “No need.” The inspector smiled and gave a small wave as he exited the cramped storage room.

  Dad sank onto the stool, looking worn-out.

  Once David left the room, Brandon closed the door behind him and turned around to face his dad. “Why would you fill the prescriptions with almost no info? I get that if patients are out of their maintenance medication, pharmacists often fill a day’s worth to tide them over. Maybe two days’ worth under the right circumstances, like the patient is traveling, or a national holiday is involved and doctors’ offices are closed. But you filled five scripts for a full month’s supply? Why would you do that?”

  “If I could remember, I would certainly tell you. I’m sure I had a good reason.” His dad stood and walked closer to Brandon. “But that aside, I want to give you a chance to tell me the truth before this investigation goes any further. Did you turn in the information about the scripts?”

  What? “Are you actually going to point a finger at me, Dad?”

  His dad studied him. “You’re angry at having to be here, and it seems clear to me that you have little respect for my way of doing business. It’s a simple question. Did you report me to try to teach me a lesson?”

  “You can’t mean that.” The cut of his dad’s accusation went deep. “I would never—”

  “I hope not.” His dad wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  Was he serious? His own son, for Pete’s sake! “Is there anyone you trust besides Holly?” He raked his hands through his hair. “Man, alive! You two are something else. Both of you accusing me. First her staring at me with an accusatory look when David was here, and now you. Her dad died, and you took he
r under your wing, made a position for her, and trained her, watching after her as if she were your own. Mom got sick, and other than allowing a few visits, you insisted I stay at college so I didn’t get behind. And when Mom died, you made me return to school two days after the funeral.”

  Both Holly and Dad were staring at him.

  Brandon had their attention, and he would use the opportunity. “I would never do what you’re accusing me of. If I had realized scripts were missing, I would’ve come to you, and we’d have launched a search, tearing this place apart until we found the hard copies. But the fact that you pushed me to stay away, and then when I do come home, you and Holly doubt me is extremely disturbing.”

  “Wait.” Holly stepped in closer, staring into his eyes as if looking for something. “Lyle, tell him how much you missed him.”

  Dad said nothing.

  Typical.

  Holly’s eyes brimmed with tears as she turned to his dad while pointing at Brandon. “Tell him how often you picked up the phone, intending to ask him to come home and then changed your mind and hung up.” She nodded at Brandon. “Time and again before your mom passed and that first year after she died, I saw him with that phone in his hand, shaking and teary eyed, wanting to ask his only child to come home. But he didn’t for your sake, not his. He would say, ‘He’s building a life of his own, and I won’t interfere with that. His mom told me before she died that she didn’t want him giving up his future because it was her time to go home.’ ” Holly moved to Dad. “Lyle, tell him.”

  But his dad stared at the stacks of boxes. Was Holly seeing a part of his dad that Brandon had missed?

  Brandon angled his head to get a better look at his dad’s face. “Dad, is that true?”

  His dad gestured toward the boxes. “Believe what you want. We have work to do.”

  “Dad.” Brandon couldn’t hide his disbelief. Was his dad really that apathetic about their relationship? “Nothing is more important than what’s taking place right now between us. Come on. You know that.”

  His dad didn’t budge for several seconds. Finally he nodded and got up from the stool. His hazel eyes met Brandon’s. Memories of him as a young man pounded Brandon. Thoughts of his dad spending hours throwing him the football, pitching him baseballs, or going swimming with him every weekend rolled through Brandon, but it was a gray-haired old man who inched his way forward.

  “It’s true, Son. How could either of us doubt the other one?” His dad embraced him, holding on for nearly a minute.

  The warmth of his father’s embrace eased the sadness and anger that had been building inside him for years. It felt as if a dam burst, freeing a river of love and forgiveness. How had Brandon held it in so long? The relief was staggering. Both of them were sniffing and wiping their eyes when they let go.

  Holly chuckled and moved to Brandon until the toes of her shoes were inches from his. She once again gazed into his eyes. “I’m sorry for all the misunderstandings and for accusing you.”

  “I’m not the enemy.” He never wanted to seem like one.

  “I know. You’re the opposite.” She grabbed his hand. “Forgive me, please?”

  He looked at his dad. “You know, I would’ve adjusted easier to having a little sister if you and Mom had ever informed me that I had one.”

  Lyle chuckled. “Put it on the list of things I should’ve handled better, and maybe one day I’ll admit to it.”

  Holly smiled up at him, and when Brandon returned her smile, she hugged him. “Family fights. They’re just so much fun, right?”

  Brandon returned the hug. “No, but they do clear the air a bit.”

  “Son, I accused you because I don’t know you anymore, not really, and that’s my fault. I’ve let too many years go by with barely seeing you, and then I looked at your frustration about having to be here. I assumed too much and shared too little.”

  “It’s my fault too. You did assume too much. After Mom died, I hated returning to college, but once I settled in there, I didn’t want to come home. I missed Mom too much, and it was easier staying there and being super busy. So I’m just as culpable for the distance between us.” Brandon clicked his tongue. “When the Greene men get things wrong, we don’t do it halfway, do we?”

  His dad chuckled. “Apparently that’s quite true.”

  Brandon and his dad remained in place, smiling. Then Brandon’s face fell, and he shifted as the reality of what they currently faced crashed in. “This would be a perfect moment except we have a very serious situation that needs our attention.”

  Holly set the stack of printouts in their box. “We need to find this Sam Miller. Since none of the contact info we have works, we’re going to need a different plan for locating him. I suspect he’s Amish, but it would help if we knew what Sam looked like. Can we skim the security tapes from that Sunday?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Brandon went to a tiny desk in the corner of the room to access the computer that stored the security footage. He sat in the straight-backed chair and started typing. Dad and Holly watched over his shoulder as he pulled up the footage for that Sunday. He fast-forwarded to the hours the store was open, and then he slowed the speed of the footage but still moved faster than real time.

  Holly grabbed his shoulder. “Stop. Right there.”

  Brandon paused the footage. A man wearing a straw hat and suspenders stood at the counter. He had several prescription bottles in his hands but not in the exact style as Greene’s. Brandon would bet they were empty vials from a different pharmacy. But when Dad refilled them, why hadn’t he saved the bottles or at least the labels from the bottles?

  “I think we’re looking at our Sam Miller,” Brandon said.

  “He is Amish.” Holly pointed at the screen. “There’s no way an Amish man would purchase anything on a Sunday unless he had no other choice.”

  Dad put a hand on Brandon’s other shoulder. “The scripts are all heart meds, so if the patient had run completely out, that would be an acceptable emergency to any Amish person.”

  Brandon enlarged the view of the man. “We can look at him from various camera angles, but I doubt we’ll be able to see his face under that broad-brimmed straw hat.” He looked up at Holly. “Do you know any Sam Millers?”

  “I don’t, although it seems as if I should.” She stared at the computer screen. “I’ve been thinking about it though, and I know someone who knows at least one Sam Miller.” She leaned in. “I can’t see the man’s face, but the way he carries himself, he appears to me to be middle aged. He doesn’t have a beard, which means he’s single.” She stood straight. “There was an Amish guy at the health fair—Josh—and he mentioned that name. Maybe God is at work in this, helping Greene’s Pharmacy to stay alive.”

  “We all hope that,” his dad said.

  “We do.” Brandon had never cared more about this pharmacy than now. It wasn’t his personal dream, but it was his dad’s, his mom’s, and now Holly’s, and that was enough. He turned off the screen and stood. “Here’s the plan. We are going to move forward under the assumption that these are legal prescriptions and that something happened to prevent Dad from getting them transferred into our computers properly. And that there was a good reason for Dad to fill the whole prescription rather than just give a small supply to get him through to Monday, when the doctors’ offices opened back up.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Dad said.

  “Me too.” Holly smiled.

  Brandon nodded. “I’ll try to track down the doctor. I’ll call all the practices I can and ask if they have a patient with the name Sam Miller, starting nearby and expanding the radius. There’s no telling where in the country he originally obtained the prescriptions, but it’s more likely that he saw a doctor in Pennsylvania or a neighboring state. Dad, you need to send a courier to the address we have for Sam Miller. See if anyone lives at that address. And
keep trying the phone number. Maybe eventually someone will answer. We’ll look through the security footage from Sunday and the surrounding days to see if any leads turn up concerning what could have happened to the hard copies or at least the old prescription bottles or labels. Holly, you talk with Josh and then make calls, getting a phone number or address for every Sam Miller you can. But remember the HIPAA privacy rules.”

  Brandon hoped this plan worked, because he was sure it would break his dad and Holly if the pharmacy went under.

  Joshua stood inside the phone shanty, the handset balanced between his face and shoulder. He took a breath and dialed the number to Greene’s Pharmacy. It rang twice before someone answered.

  “Greene’s Pharmacy. Holly speaking.” Her voice seemed pleasant, but her words came out quick. He could hear her clicking away, probably on a keyboard. Yesterday she’d left a message for him on the answering machine, but she’d sounded flustered and had stumbled over her words.

  “Hi, Holly. This is Josh. I got your message about your pharmacy and Sam Miller.” The first time he met Holly at the gatherings, he had introduced himself as Josh instead of the usual Joshua, trying to sound more casual, more relaxed. Now she was the only person who called him Josh.

  “I’m so glad to hear from you!”

  He felt his cheeks flush, although he knew her excitement wasn’t directed at him personally. She just needed his help. How many times did he have to remind himself that she wasn’t interested? “Good.”

  Part of him wanted to keep interaction with her to a minimum. If he just asked his parents the question and passed the information to her, he could be done. But his parents were likely to remember more helpful information if they talked to her themselves.

  He leaned against the phone shanty as he drew a breath. “I’ve been thinking about your message, and you need to talk to my parents face to face. They know a lot of people, but it’ll take a good conversation with them to be sure you get all you need.”