A very officious look came onto Carol’s face. “Well, I mean, they’re just fine, if you’re trying to write a novel or something—”
“What?”
“Well,” Carol persisted. “This is the Computer Age. I shouldn’t have to read through thirty pages to find out that Mrs. Belever showed a little improvement yesterday.” She moved to one side to show Maggie the table she had prepared on the CRT. “See, I’ve got all the information here.” She indicated the columns on a sheet of hard copy as she went along. “Here I give a summary of the patients’ condition before the treatment—for Mrs. Belever, you never even noted where the cancer started or how long she’s had it. And then, here, I’ve entered when, they began treatment, and then over here I gave a day-by-day scoring of how much better or worse they seem to be.”
“But that’s nowhere near enough information, Carol. You need to know how she’s being treated, if the procedure’s different, who gave the treatment— Look, you didn’t even mention that I tried Gramma once without her knowing about it, or that it didn’t work that time.”
Carol looked hurt. “But it didn’t work. What’s there to say about it?”
Maggie laughed. “Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to criticize you. Really, I’m delighted, and proud, of what you’re doing. But you aren’t a research scientist quite yet, and should accept the fact that you have a lot to learn.”
“I thought I was doing pretty good,” Carol pouted.
Maggie hugged her. “Darling, you did a lot better than I did, so I’m in no position to complain. I’m impressed with how well you’ve done on your own, and I’d love it if you kept on with it.”
She pulled up a chair and sat next to Carol. “So, now that we’re colleagues, let’s talk about how best to keep these records.”
Chapter Twenty
AFTER a pleasant weekend, the rains returned on Monday, and the weather forecast suggested that they might linger for a week or more. But even the weather couldn’t get Maggie down. She drove slowly down Highway 9, wending her way from Palo Alto through the foothills to Santa Cruz, after her last visit to Amy’s aunt. Mrs. Belever’s recovery looked as good as Ann’s. They had spent some time that morning discussing the need to get a CAT scan for Amy’s aunt, and how best to go about it. The only reasonable place was Stanford, since it was only a five-minute drive and her doctor’s office was there.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Belever’s doctor was an associate of Krueger, and he knew that Amy was a midwife. If the two physicians should discuss the Belever remission, it would come out that two spontaneous-remission cases, amazing for any hospital over a couple of weeks, had both been brought in by midwives. Krueger’s suspicions would return. Finally, Amy had decided that she would ask around and see if she could find someone willing to run the scans with no questions asked. It would probably take a few days for her to feel that out.
Details, details, Maggie thought, smiling to herself. It’s worked again. I’m certain. There was that clinical part of her which added, “But I won’t know for sure until I get that scan done,” though the rest of her rode homeward in a blissful calm. Everything was going to work out. The rain grew heavier, and she slowed the car as traffic began to back up. Wonderful California, she thought, bumper to bumper all the way across the hills. But she drove on, contentedly. In her life, all seemed clear and bright.
She didn’t reach Santa Cruz until noon, so she decided to go home for lunch before going to the clinic. While she heated up leftover soup, she called the clinic to see if she’d had any calls.
“Maggie,” Lisa answered, “where’ve you been? We’ve been trying to find you and Beckie all morning. Is she with you?”
“Why, no, she’s not with me. Why? What’s going on?”
Lisa groaned. “Everything’s going on. Do you know how we can reach her?”
Maggie didn’t answer. Beckie was probably still in the city, with the two new patients. But Maggie had no idea what excuse Beckie had used for her being out in the morning. “Not if she hasn’t come in to the clinic,” she finally replied. Did you try her at home?”
“Oh, Lord! Did we try her at borne? We’ve called every place we could think of. We can’t find her anywhere.”
“Lisa, what is this all about?”
There was a pause before she answered. “Well, to put it in a nutshell, Susan Glanvil has gotten the California Midwives Association to approve her preparing a statement supporting the A.M.A.’s attack on us, and calling for the revocation of our licenses on the grounds that we ‘refuse to employ necessary medical techniques, required for the safe delivery of the child.’ That last part was a quote.”
“How could they do that?” Maggie asked in dismay.
“That’s not all,” Lisa continued. “I think that’ll take months to sort out, because it’s a legal thing. But they’ve also called on area hospitals to revoke our hospital privileges, and then we couldn’t bring in our patients in an emergency. That’s what everyone’s worried about right now, because some hospital administrator could get scared and just push us right out into the streets.”
“We won’t stand for that!” Maggie sputtered.
“Well, then, get over here, and if you can think of any way to get in touch with Beckie, do so, because she’s the one running the N.M.A., and nobody’s willing to do anything without talking it over with her first.”
“Will do,” Maggie replied. “See you soon.” Hanging up the phone, she hurried to her study for the numbers of the two women in San Francisco. While paging through her notes, she swore at herself for being so disorganized. But finally, she found the numbers. Beckie had left the first well over an hour earlier. That left the second. “No. I’m Sorry,” the voice replied. “She left about ten minutes ago.”
“Did she happen to mention where she was going?”
“No, I’m really sorry. She got a phone call about fifteen minutes ago, and left just a few minutes after that.”
“She got a phone call?” Maggie asked, confused. Who would know to call her there? “Did she happen to say who it was?”
“No, she didn’t.”
Maggie thought fast. “Listen, I’m calling because something important has come up, and it needs Beckie’s immediate attention. I’m just trying to figure if that call might have been about the same thing.”
“Well,” the voice offered reluctantly, “she did seem rather upset over the call.”
“She did? Oh, great. Then that was probably it. Look, if she should happen to get in touch with you today, would you please tell her to call the clinic immediately, that it’s important?”
“Why, yes, I’ll do that.”
“Thanks.” She was off the phone and running.
“Maggie?” Ann’s voice betrayed some irritation.
She hurried into Ann’s room. “Hi, Mom, how are you.”
“I’m fine! But I’d certainly like to know what all this running and shouting is all about.”
Maggie forced a smile onto her face. “Well, you’ll just have to wait until this evening to find out, because we’ve got a problem at the clinic, and I have to run down there and see about it.”
Ann frowned. “I just don’t understand people nowadays,” she complained. “No one has time for anyone else.” A look of resignation came over her face. “All right, then,” she muttered. “Go on. You’ve got to, I suppose.”
Maggie bent over and gave her a quick kiss. “Thanks a lot, Mom.” Turning, she ran out of the house.
She had expected the clinic to be a disaster area, but it looked perfectly normal. Only Lisa and a couple of patients were in the reception area.
“There you are!” Lisa beckoned Maggie over to her desk, then continued in a soft voice, “Amy called from San Francisco. She’s managed to contact Beckie, and I guess they’re on the way to the N.M.A. office. So there’s not much for us to do right now. Amy said she’d call us as soon as they decide anything, or when there’s something that we can do.”
Maggie frowned. “Maybe we should start calling hospitals, and putting pressure on them to ignore this whole thing.”
“We’ve already thought of that,” Lisa whispered, “but Amy said to wait and see what they decide up in San Francisco, so we can coordinate our efforts.”
Maggie shrugged. There didn’t seem to have been all that much need for her to rush right over. She could have finished her lunch— “Oh damn!” Maggie muttered. “Can I use the phone a sec?” Lisa turned it around for Maggie to use, and she quickly punched in her home number. Aflter a few rings. Ann answered. “Mom, this is Maggie. I left some soup on the stove. Could you turn it off for me, and put it back in the refrigerator?”
Ann grumped. “I was wondering if you’d ever remember that. It boiled over a couple of minutes ago. I’m still trying to clean up the stove. Honestly,” she continued, “I would think that being forty years old and having a fifteen-year-old daughter would have put some sense into you, but obviously not.”
Maggie sighed. “All right, Mother, I don’t need a lecture. I’m sorry it happened. Just leave it, and I’ll clean it when I get home. You shouldn’t be doing dishes.”
“Well, I didn’t have much choice, with the whole thing boiling over.”
It was five minutes before Maggie was off the phone. “Sony,” she said to Lisa. “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”
Lisa laughed. “No problem.”
Maggie looked at her watch. “Well, I’ve got patients coming, so I better mosey on down to my office. Be sure to let me know if you hear any more.”
“Sure. You and everyone else. Promise.”
* * *
It was 3:25 before Lisa buzzed her. “Maggie, I thought I’d tell you before your 3:30 that Beckie wants you to call her.”
Maggie looked at her clock. “Where is she?” Lisa gave her the number, and Maggie quickly dialed.
“Oh, Maggie, I’m glad you called,” Beckie answered the phone.
“How are things going, Beckie? Everyone’s waiting for the word.”
“We’re getting there,” Beckie promised. “If and when Glanvil launches her attack, we’ll start a big phone-in to the hospitals tomorrow, not just from us, but we’ll try to get all of our patients, including former patients, to call up and demand that we be allowed to continue our practices. We figure we can probably drum up a few thousand calls.”
“That’s probably more than the hospitals can handle,” Maggie suggested.
“Great. Then they won’t know how many more might have been trying to call. Anyhow, I think that should keep the hospitals from making any fast decisions on the issue. Some of our patients or ex-patients must have political clout, too.”
“I’m sure you’re right. So you want me to start calling around, lining up people to call tomorrow?”
“No.”
“What?’’
There was a pause. “Are you alone?”
“Yes,” Maggie replied slowly.
“I want you to stop working at the clinic, and to start working on the cancer cure full-time.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Maggie, it’s crazy for you to be doing midwifery when you’ve got a cure for cancer. You should be testing that out as fast as you can, so that you can release it as soon as possible. Every day you delay means more people die of cancer. Other midwives could take over your load, but no one can replace you in your cancer work.”
“But Beckie, these women aren’t just a ‘load.’ They’re people who have put a lot of trust in me, people who expect me to be present when they deliver, I can’t just walk out on them—”
“Maggie! You’re being ridiculous. How would they feel if they knew that a few thousand people were going to die needlessly of cancer, because you thought they needed you so much?” Beckie pushed on. “Maggie, the problem is that you still don’t believe what’s happened. You don’t believe that you’ve found a cure for cancer.”
Maggie said nothing.
“Maggie?”
“Beckie, I need time to think.”
There was a pause before Bectie replied. “Maggie, you know how big a difference it could make in this accreditations fight if—”
“I know!” Maggie snapped, “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Of course not, but—”
“Listen. I said I’d think about testing the cancer cure full-time. What more do you want? I’m not going to say that I’ll go and hold a press conference on it before I’m sure of what I’m talking about—and I’m sorry, two cases is nothing to talk about.”
“How many is?” Beckie demanded.
Maggie paused. “Twenty-five. Twenty-five well-documented cases. And that means first sorting out what’s important and what’s not. But not before that.”
“Okay.” Beckie sounded sullen. “I trust your judgment on this. But it is our livelihoods they’re planning to take away.”
“Mine, too,” Maggie pointed out. She looked at her watch. “Beckie, I can’t talk any more right now, I’m late for my next patient as is.”
“Okay, but do think about it.”
“I will, I will!” Maggie slammed the receiver down in anger.
* * *
Melanie leaned across the library table, her voice whisper-quiet. “I bet it has something to do with those frogs.”
Startled, Carol looked nervously around her. “Shut up about that, will you? If you start blabbing all around, everyone’ll know!”
Melanie leaned even farther forward. “But you haven’t found out anything, have you?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
Melanie seemed satisfied. “Well, I bet they have something to do with it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I bet that they’re doing something with the you-know-whats, using them on their patients or something, and they were found out by the regular doctors, and that’s why they’re in trouble all of a sudden.”
“Honestly, Melanie, sometimes I just can’t believe how flaky you can be! If you had half a brain, you’d know how dumb an idea that is. Just what do you mean, ‘using them on their patients’? You think my mom’s making them eat frogs or something? Sometimes I think you come up with nuttier ideas than anyone else ever has.”
Self-satisfaction was apparent on Melanie’s face. “What makes you think it was my idea in the first place?”
Suddenly the playful nature of the banter was gone. “What do you mean?”
Worry streaked across Melanie’s face. She looked away. “Nothin’. Just that other people sometimes have wacky ideas, too, and you shouldn’t say that I’m so much worse than all the other kids here.”
“Melanie Scott, that’s a load of bull, and you know it. What did you start to say?”
“I told you, nothing.” She had retreated back across the table, and was slouched down in her chair.
It was Carol’s turn to lean heavily on the table. “Melanie, I mean it. You’re going to tell me what you started to say, or else.”
“Or else what?” Melanie sneered, angry at the threat.
“Or else you can go find another table to study at.”
“I like it here,” Melanie retorted. “If you don’t like the company, you can go sit somewhere else yourself.”
Carol looked around, her eyes stopping at a table here and there. Then, deciding, she slid her chair back and started to rise. “Well, I think that’s Tommy at that console—all by himself! I just remembered a really funny story that he’d love to hear.”
Melanie practically leaped across the table to grab Carol’s wrist. “Don’t you dare tell him what I said about him!”
Carol’s face was the picture of innocence. “Tell him what? Oh, hey! I hadn’t even thought of that story. Do you think he’d be interested in it?”
“Carol, I swear I’ll never speak to you again if you tell him.”
“You’d rather I sat here with you?”
Melanie nodded.
“Then tell me.”
Melanie looked trapped. “Promise not to tell anyone?”
Carol nodded.
“I mean really, Carol. You can’t ever tell anyone, because Jenny Swore me to secrecy.”
“Jenny, huh? It figures.”
“Carol, please!”
She frowned. “All right, already, I wont go telling anyone else.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Melanie sat back, relieved, but still unsure how to proceed. “Well, she heard the report on the news this morning, about how they might close down the clinic here, and about the midwives’ refusal to be careful, or something, and she told me her dad said that the midwives nowadays were no better than they were back in the Dark Ages, and how they used to practice witchcraft back then. So Jenny said, maybe that’s why they’re in trouble now, because they’re trying witchcraft again. You know, a lot of women up in San Francisco say that they’re witches, even now. And then I remembered all those weird frogs hidden in your mom’s study, and I figured, maybe Jenny’s dad was right. But if you tell Jenny I told you, she’ll never speak to me again, and she and Tommy are good friends—”
“All right! I told you I promise. So stop worrying.” Carol was furious. “I could wring that idiot’s neck!”
“Carol, you promised!”
“Well, let me tell you. It just so happens that I do know what Mom’s doing with those frogs, and there isn’t a chance that I’d ever tell you, ’cause you’d tell it all over the school. And when you find out what they’re for, you and the rest of the world will be coming around just begging to be my friends, and you’ll just fall all over yourself apologizing for your stupid ideas. And when I just laugh in your face, you can thank Jenny for giving you the idea!” Furious, she pushed her chair back from the table and stomped out past an amused librarian.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next week flew by in a fog. Between her job, maintaining records with Carol, and preparing medication for Beckie’s two patients in San Francisco Maggie had little time to think about what was happening.
But it had been a good week, as Maggie saw it, a week of growth. There were clearly two alternating phases to her life, one of growth, where she would reach out and establish new contacts, new ideas, new friends, and another of consolidation, when she would stop to embrace the newness and bring it within herself, turning it into familiar ideas or old friends. Too much time spent on consolidation led to stagnation, and a need to get out and about. But too much growth led to an anarchy of the mind, where everything seemed to become disconnected, and her mind frazzled.
The California Coven Project Page 14