Wake the Dawn

by Lauraine Snelling

  He cruised north along his favorite dirt road. The day after Thanksgiving, every hunter in the state turned out to bag that deer, but there seemed to be very little hunting activity up here today. A beater Honda. A couple of pickups with open beds. Smugglers didn’t use teensy cars and open pickups. Let the hunters bask in the nonsense that they were smarter than your average whitetail. Ben started home.

  Three miles outside town he slowed and fell in behind yet another beater Honda. Five miles an hour below the speed limit. It drifted slowly to the right, swerved to correct, began to drift again. He sighed. He hated traffic stops, especially at the end of his shift. But he was authorized to make them, he was expected to make them, so he flicked on his light bar and touched off his siren.

  It took the driver nearly a quarter mile to notice him and pull over. Ben got out and approached the car with caution, standard procedure. The driver’s-side window went down. His mouth dropped open.

  Amber Harden was pawing through her purse for her driver’s license. She fished out a small wallet, looked at him, and her eyes lit up. “Ben! Oh, I’m so glad it’s you!” She tossed her purse aside and swung her door open. Before he could tell her to stay in the car, her feet were on the ground. She lurched erect and steadied herself by gripping the door and the roof edge.

  Exactly what do you say in this situation? “Hello, Amber.”

  “I drove by your house yesterday, but you weren’t home. Nobody was.”

  “Ansel and Beth and the kids went to his cousins’ for Thanksgiving.”

  “And I drove by that doctor’s, too, but she wasn’t home, either.”

  Caution prevailed. “I believe she has family near Bemidji.” His brain screeched to a halt, shifted gears. “How do you know where she lives?”

  She giggled. “I asked Maizie. Maizie’s Beauty Parlor. She’s still there on Second Street, same as always. I got my hair done Wednesday. Do you like it?”

  Tact, James. Tact. “I’ve always liked it.”

  “I had years of news to catch up on, just years, and the place to do that is the beauty parlor. Operators always know everything. You want to know anything, ask Maizie.” Her voice slurred slightly.

  He jerked a thumb toward her car. “I think I recognize this heap. Did you buy it from Donny Taylor?”

  She cocked her head. “Yes. Why?”

  “It got rolled a couple of months ago. The frame’s probably sprung. Hope you didn’t pay much for it.”

  “He didn’t mention that. Hey, it was a good deal and it works for me.”

  “Keep an eye on your tires. They’re going to wear quickly. Where is your baby? He’s not in his car seat.”

  “Jenny is taking care of him this evening. She feels sorry for me. You feel sorry for me, too, don’t you?” She moved in closer.

  “I feel sorry for all of us. It was a tragic loss.” He could smell the whiskey on her breath. “Out celebrating?”

  “Dinner at the Walleye. Old times’ sake, y’know? Still the same bartender.”

  Old times’ sake. The Walleye? What a low-down dive. When Ben was dating her, they never went to the Walleye. For starters, they were both underage. So she must have taken up going there after he went into the marines.

  He held out his hand. “May I see your keys?”

  “Sure!” She twisted around to pull them out of the ignition and nearly spun out. She steadied herself on the steering wheel, paused, pulled her keys. When she stood up, she nearly spun out again. “Here y’are. Why do you want to see them?”

  “I want to keep them. You’re in no condition to drive.”

  “What…Ben…” She pouted. “I can get home okay.” She brightened a bit. “Or you can take me.”

  For a moment he was totally torn. Here was a woman who’d come back to make peace with the father who dropped dead right in front of her. A woman who was surviving a hard life, so far. An old friend, a schoolmate, a former girlfriend. Arresting her now, in the midst of her terrible grief, was immoral. Un-Jesus-like. Just plain nasty.

  But.

  “I’m sorry, Amber. You’re under arrest, driving while under the influence.”

  Her mouth and eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t do that! You couldn’t! I’m not that drunk!”

  “Remember Dougie? Died our junior year?”

  “He was an idiot. Always showing off. It’s no surprise he wrapped his car around a tree. I’m not like that. I’m very careful. Very safe.”

  “I said I’m sorry and I mean it. But it’s not just that you could kill yourself driving drunk, it’s who you might take with you. An innocent stranger. Your own baby.”

  “Doesn’t our past together mean anything at all to you?” And she squirmed in still closer.

  “Yes. It does. You need help, Amber. This can get that help started for you.” And he repeated it once again, because he meant it with every ounce of him: “I’m sorry.”

  Sunday evening already. The days were mushing together, the way they did on long holiday weekends. Esther should have gone to church today. Instead she had lain in bed until noon, feeling sorry for herself. She had heard of people blocking out unpleasant memories and had scoffed—until she realized she was doing exactly that. Well, trying to. But every time she thought she had those demons securely bound, they broke loose to torture her. Double torture. Sure, Jefferson was damaged to start with, but what she did…Why did God bring him into her life now, when the memories were getting worse, more intrusive? Was God so cruel? Ben called her demons flashbacks. That’s what soldiers got, not a physician’s assistant. But it sure seemed he was right.

  Now she sipped coffee and read through all the text messages and listened to the phone messages, too. So Ben had even come by the house. Maybe he didn’t realize that when he hung up on the answering machine, his number stayed there.

  She had just texted Ben the message, “I’m OK. I’ll b at work usual time Mday. Sorry 2 cause u trouble.”

  Trouble? The whole weekend she had locked the door and refused to answer it. She’d called her counselor, but Dr. Phillips was out of town and had yet to return her call. Sort of like the cops; where were they when you needed them? Other than doping herself to sleep, she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Nor did she wish to do anything else. She wasn’t sure which.

  What she was sure of was that she had to recover enough to be at work at eight thirty tomorrow morning.

  She reread Ben’s text messages. And listened to his phone messages. And the ones from her mother, her father, and Kenneth. No one could figure out what had happened and she wasn’t about to tell them. Her mother did scold her roundly for ruining the nice holiday, but she expected that. She probably would have been disappointed if her mother had not reamed her. And in front of that nice young man, too.

  Flashback, Ben said. It was more than a dream, more even than a nightmare. She felt the cold air, smelled the spilled gasoline, heard every nuance of the sounds and the silence. It did more than feel as if she were out on that black road on that black night, the scene with all its horror playing out for real, not in her memory.

  She walked to the bathroom. “Get a hold of yourself!” she ordered the ravaged face in the mirror. What is going on? Am I in a new phase of PTSD? What’s happening? Or…or what?

  The tears burst from the bonds she’d put up to fight further disintegration and ran rivers down her face. She threw herself back on her bed and let the pillow soak up the overflow. Would this never stop? She was no longer sure what was real, what the flashback had meant, or anything else. When she woke the clock said two and by the dark window, it meant two A.M. Her stomach complained, but finally her head felt clear. The stomach was easy to take care of.

  Out in the kitchen she fixed a cup of herb tea and plopped a piece of bread in the toaster. When the toast was ready, she sliced cheese and let it melt on the toast so when she sat at her two-person table in the kitchen, she got some protein in her, too. When that one was done, she did the same again and refilled her tea
cup with hot water and another tea bag.

  It probably would not be a good idea to go out for a run now, but even the thought made her smile. If the people of Pineville had suspicions that she was going around the bend, that would convince them for sure.

  Instead she fixed herself a lunch, showered, dressed, and let herself into the clinic at seven. At least here she could tune out the voices in her head. While the pile of paperwork from the storm had been gone through, she had other follow-up work that had been waiting patiently. Would it ever be possible to get totally caught up, let alone stay that way?

  Sometime later a tap on her door caught her attention. She glanced at her watch. Eight fifteen. “Yes.”

  “Just checking on you.”

  “Come on in.”

  “My word, but you are early. Esther, what happened to you?” Barbara shut the door behind her and stared at Esther behind her desk.

  “That bad?”

  “Maybe not to someone who doesn’t know you, but those bags under your eyes aren’t smudges—you have black circles all around them. And they are swollen, too.”

  “I had a meltdown and some sort of a flashback.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “No, Thanksgiving Day at my mother’s house. I’ve been sleeping and hiding ever since. Woke at two this morning and could tell I was better again.”

  “Is that why Ben called me?”

  “I don’t know. I shut down everything and hid in my bed.”

  “He wondered if I had a key to your house. He was frantic.”

  “I left a text on his phone last evening, telling him I was all right.”

  “I think he cares for you, probably more than even he realizes.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s probably so furious with me now, he’ll never speak to me again.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  Esther shook her head. “I tried to call Dr. Phillips, but she was out of town and I didn’t want to talk to whomever was taking her calls. Right now I want to get through today without frightening my patients with the zombie look.”

  “You want some coffee?” At the nod, Barbara headed for the door.

  “Let me get some concealer around my eyes and some coffee and I’ll be ready. Thank you, Barbara.” She headed for the bathroom with her makeup bag.

  She could fix up the outside so that hardly anything showed. But the inside. Ah, the inside. That was a mess for sure.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hadn’t she just wondered if she would ever get the clinic records caught up? She just did, filing the last of the endless pieces of paper, and it was only nine fifteen A.M. Curiously, no patients had shown up as yet.

  She wandered out into the hall, into the waiting room. Barbara sat alone, pondering a crossword puzzle.

  “Sure is slow today,” Esther mused aloud.

  “Comes in bunches. You know that. New coffee’s on.” Absorbed, Barbara didn’t even look up.

  As Esther turned to wander back to the kitchen, Sarah Applegate entered the double doors. “Hi, Dr. Esther!” At last! A customer.

  “Hi, Sarah!” Esther continued down the hall. Why did Sarah have an appointment today? she wondered. Oh well, she’d know soon enough. She liked Sarah, really liked her. Such a bright kid, but before she left home that brightness would no doubt be snuffed by her mom’s distrust and negativity. Or maybe she’d escape before the light went out completely. Had Esther really escaped her mom’s constant criticism? What would she have been like without it?

  On impulse, Esther stopped at her office to grab her stethoscope. Drape a stethoscope around your neck, and you’re a doctor. Ben’s maxim. She smiled at the thought. The smile faded quickly, pushed off her face by the thought of that meltdown, by the thoughts of poor little Jefferson. And Ben. Right now her thoughts about him were confused and confusing. She continued down the hall to the break room and new coffee.

  She stopped cold, gasping. Speak of the devil. Ben stood beside the vending machines in the break room, a half-eaten maple bar in one hand, coffee mug in the other. He waved a finger, his mouth kind of full. “Fresh doughnuts, courtesy Beth. Fresh coffee, courtesy Barbara.” He didn’t sound the least angry or frustrated with her.

  She stammered. “Ben…” Licked her lips. “Ben…” Squared her shoulders. “Ben, I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say or how to say it, but I am so very sorry.”

  He was smiling. “Remember a couple of times I said I’ve been there? I’ll say it again. I’ve been there. Apology accepted but not necessary.”

  “You don’t understand, but—”

  “No, you don’t understand. I do understand.” Still that easy smile. “Let’s start over. Fresh doughnuts from Beth, coffee from Barbara.”

  This was all just too much. She could…what could she do? The best way would be to go with the flow. He accepted her apology. Start from there. “All right. Let’s.” She chose a doughnut. “You’re not in uniform today. I’m not used to seeing you in civvies.”

  He sobered. “Stopped by my office early for some files. His Majesty was there, said if I didn’t show up on time and in uniform, I was fired. I said, ‘Nah, I’m not that lucky’ and left.”

  “You guys really don’t like that temporary chief!” She took a bite of maple bar, paused to savor the first creamy excellence of the frosting in her mouth. She frowned, talked with her mouth full. “He can’t really fire you, can he?”

  “In theory, yes. But there are so many bureaucratic hurdles he’d have to jump through, it’s not worth the effort. I’m safe.” He popped the rest of the maple bar in his mouth and moved in close to her as he surveyed the doughnuts. She liked his closeness, but did she like the funny feeling it caused in her? Maybe she did. He chose a sticky bun, poured her a mug of coffee, and refilled his own.

  The break room door clunked. She turned as Mr. Aptos entered pushing a wheelchair.

  “Mr. Aptos! Why, Hannah! You’re out of the hospital!” Esther laid aside her doughnut to cross the room and reach out to the lady in the wheelchair, both hands. She stopped, drew her hands back. “Oh, dear, I’m all sticky!”

  Hannah laughed and grabbed her hands. “I do believe sugar washes off. It’s so good to see you, dear!”

  “How is your leg doing?” Esther eyed the cast, a huge white tube encasing the lady’s leg from her ankle all the way up.

  “My orthopedist says I’ll be walking in no time. Actually, I have a walker when it’s just around the house, but I don’t use it out on the street.” Hannah dropped her voice conspiratorially. “You know, an old woman charges down the shopping mall in a wheelchair with this cast sticking out, and the Red Sea parts, just like that!” She made a sweeping motion. “Teenagers, other shoppers, they all leap aside. I love it!” Her eyes twinkled. Esther remembered too well when they were dulled by pain.

  Here came Sarah Applegate into the break room. Patients didn’t come back here. And in walked Dr. Livingston! And Dr. Ho! Wait; and Ansel came in carrying Dawn, and here was Beth with her newborn. Roy Abrams doddered in but the door didn’t close behind him, because that Culpepper boy was entering. What was his name? Gary. He held the door open, for Gramma Alma was coming through it.

  Gramma marched straight as an arrow over to Esther, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. “You’re looking good, Chicken Little!”

  Chicken Little? Gramma hadn’t called Esther that since she was six and started school. Too old now for that nonsense, Mom had decreed, and so it ended. Esther had always missed that nonsense, she’d missed it so much.

  “Wait a minute!” She stepped back as sudden panic made her chest vibrate. “What’s going on here?” She backed up against the counter, suddenly bobbing in a sea of faces crowding, smiling, watching her. “What are you all doing?”

  Ben shrugged. “We just wanted the chance to tell you how much we care about you.”

  No! I’m out of here! She headed for the door.

  No one blocked her way, exactly, but no one stepped aside, eith
er. Dr. Ho leaned his back against the door, closed his eyes, and yawned elaborately, patting his gaping mouth with an open hand.

  “No!” The panic multiplied itself inside her so strongly she was getting dizzy. She stepped back and gripped the counter behind her with both hands.

  Beside her, Ben studied the floor. “Y’know, when a bunch of friends get together to wish you well, it’s usually called a party, and you have a good time. You look panicked.”

  “Please! Just go! All of you, just go away! I can’t—I can’t do this!”

  How could she stop this madness? And she realized in even greater panic that she could not. Whatever this pressing, churning, staring crowd was going to do, she couldn’t change it.

  Sarah stepped to the front. “Dr. Esther, I’ve decided what I want to be when I get out of school. I’m going to be a doctor, like you. You believed me when my own mom didn’t, and you weren’t afraid to stand up for me. There’s a whole lot of kids I know who need someone like that, and I’m going to be that someone. It’s tough to be—you know, okay—clean—when it seems like everyone else around you is—you know.” She bit her lip, looked near tears. “Thank you.”

  Esther hadn’t expected that. It slammed into her, stopped her thoughts cold.

  Gary Culpepper stood tall near her. “And I think I’m going to do the paramedic thing. That night when we were all working all night was the most amazing night of my life. Dennis and Yvette have the fun job, but you were in there the whole time, and you never yelled at me, or anyone. I’ve been talking to Dennis, and he’s going to sign me up for the training. Thank you.”

  “I was talking to Dr. Livingston a little while ago.” Roy Abrams stood over by the side counter. “You couldn’t save my Denise, he says nobody could have. But you tried. You tried so hard, even when you didn’t have enough to work with. Thank you.”

  “You’ve been talking about a medical facility for years.” Mr. Aptos stepped out from behind Hannah’s wheelchair. “Nobody listened to you. But you kept at it. You’re still keeping at it. People say I’m the one getting this thing moving, but it’s not me. It’s you. It’s always been you. And because of you, people’s lives are going to be saved, and people are going to get better medical treatment, the care they need. You’ve given this area a bigger gift than you can ever imagine, little lady. Thank you.”