“I heard you’re going to be playing Marcus Welby,” she said, sitting back down.
“You heard right.”
“Good,” she said, then closed her mouth quickly. A rare event.
He knew what she wanted to say. It will be good for you. Keep your mind off your troubles. Well, she was right, wasn’t she?
“You know, I’ve got the feeling.” Laurie’s eyes were wide, her eyebrows arched upward, face turned half sideways and frozen, as if she were listening to something Sam certainly wasn’t hearing. “Something good is about to happen,” she said firmly.
He looked at her askance. “You’ve got the feeling?”
“Now come on, Sam. You know my feelings are always right.”
“I don’t know any such thing.” Sam couldn’t remember any of Laurie’s feelings coming to fruition, even though she was always saying after the fact that she had known it all along.
She looked at him, incredulous. “What about Miss Pitty?” she demanded.
He looked at her and shook his head.
“Don’t give me that look.”
“What look?”
“Like I’m crazy. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I predicted that Miss Pitty was going to die!” Laurie’s tone was incredulous that he’d had to ask. “Remember? I told you all about it. I came in that morning and told Ricky I had the feeling something awful was going to happen, just a darkness . . . like doom. . . . I don’t know.” Laurie shuddered, words apparently failing her. “Then I went home that night, and there she was, poor old thing, stretched out by her water bowl, stiff as a board.” Her eyes went misty at the memory of Miss Pitty’s demise.
Sam made a wry face. “Miss Pitty was a nineteen-year-old cat, Laurie. It didn’t exactly take foreknowledge to predict she was going to that great litter box in the sky someday soon.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Sam regretted them. Making jokes about Miss Pittypat was going too far, an offense not found in Laurie’s catalog of forgivable sins.
Her jaw set. “Well, then, what about the time I said I just knew something good was going to happen, and Mama found her wedding ring in the sugar bowl?”
“Let’s look at it the other way,” Sam suggested. “When have you not had a feeling of some kind? If you have premonitions every day, it stands to reason you’re going to hit the jackpot from time to time. Even a blind pig finds an acorn now and then.”
“You go on and make fun if you want,” Laurie repeated. She pulled herself up stiffly and turned around toward her computer. “But I’m telling you, I’ve got the feeling. And it’s never wrong.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said. “And I just want to thank you for sharing it with me.”
She didn’t answer. Just sniffed and began to type and inspect her monitor with great interest. Sam grinned and walked on by her toward his brother’s office. She’d be over it by the time he got inside and sat down. His sister was like a mountain thunderstorm. Thunder and lightning and pouring down rain, and fifteen minutes later the grass was dry again.
“He’s not in there,” Laurie called after him. “He’s doing a delivery. Susan Baker’s twins.”
“Just got done,” came Ricky’s voice, and suddenly he was there, blowing in like a cool breeze, dressed in a smartly tailored suit, full cup of coffee in his hand. Sam could smell the nip of aftershave. His brother’s face shone with good cheer, and Sam envied him. He had been born hearty and carefree.
“I just came by to thank you for all the work you’ve been doing in my behalf,” Sam told his brother.
Ricky was all innocent bewilderment. “Well, I’m sure you’re welcome, bro, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know very well. Going behind my back and scheming with Diane, then calling Bruce Dandridge.”
“Bro, I just want you to be a happy man. Is there anything wrong with that?” He picked up his cup of coffee, closed his eyes as he took a sip, then his face relaxed into a broad smile. “Mm, mm, mm. It doesn’t get any better than this,” he murmured in bliss.
“Better than what?” Sam asked, feeling a smile creep onto his grim face just from being in the same room as Ricky.
“Had a good night’s sleep last night. Amanda and the kids are doing great. Delivered two babies this morning, and after I see a few more patients, I’m headed for the golf course. Come go with me.”
Sam shook his head. “Thanks to you, I’ve got house calls to make and free clinic this afternoon.”
Ricky grinned. “Whoo doggies, you’re going to need some coffee.”
“I’ll grab a cup on my way out.” He rose to leave.
“Hey, Sam,” Ricky said, and Sam turned. His brother’s face was serious. “I heard the news about Kelly Bright. I’m so glad. It’s an answer to prayer. A big part of what I’m happy about,” he said, and Sam remembered how Ricky had been there in the bad times. He supposed he had the right to rejoice now that a little of the pressure had eased.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’m relieved, too. It’s still an awful situation, but I feel better just knowing she’s being looked after. No one should die like that.”
Ricky’s telephone rang. Sam raised a hand in good-bye, then took his leave after his brother began talking. Someone’s water had broken, and he saw Ricky’s golf game receding into a faraway dream. He waved to his sister, who was also on the phone. He went outside and took a deep breath of the warm air.
Twenty-five
The house calls weren’t too difficult. A baby with the croup, a two-year-old with a suspected case of roseola, an old woman needing a listening ear for a moment or two, and a routine blood pressure check. Sam shook his head. He couldn’t believe Carl traveled twenty minutes up in the hills just to take somebody’s blood pressure, but actually, that had been the best call of them all. He had sat on the porch with the old man, had drunk a cup of coffee, and listened to the creek run. He had felt at peace, at least for a time.
Elijah was finishing up the chores when Sam arrived back at Diane and Carl’s. Annie’s rented car was gone. He wondered what she had done with his truck. He would like to have that truck back.
“Hey there,” Elijah greeted him. “I was just fixing to eat the lunch Annie left. You’re just in time.”
Lunch sounded good. He felt as if he’d covered miles already today, and he had an hour before the free clinic began. With any luck no one would show up and he could leave.
They ate the sandwiches Annie had prepared, and Sam admired her handiwork. Annie understood how to make a sandwich, using a good inch of meat and another of cheese, moist, thick bread, and lettuce, tomato, and salt, with a dill pickle on the side. He remembered her canning her own cucumbers into dills and sweets, lining the walls of their tiny kitchen with the Mason jars, smiling with delight on canning day when the jars would seal and the pops sounded through the house.
He finished his lunch, then went out to the office. The drugs were in a locked cabinet, of course, and he wished Annie were here with the key. Well, he would do the best he could today. That’s all anyone could ask. Odd. But he realized he meant it. Somehow he did not expect perfection from himself here, and he knew it was because there was so much less at stake.
He made sure there was clean paper on the examining table, emptied the garbage, tidied the waiting room, put on a pot of coffee and another of hot water. He checked the sign-in clipboard to make sure there was paper, and he wished again he had someone to help him. He would have to sign people in, pull their charts, and treat them.
He was as nervous as a groom when he heard the first car drive up. When he looked out and saw it was Annie, it did little to relieve it. She handed him two keys triumphantly. “This is for the drug cabinet. This is for the supply closet.”
“Thank you,” he said. “And thanks for the sandwiches.”
“No problem,” she said. “It’s nice of you to do this for Papa.”
He nodded. Tomorrow they would have to get back to the real busines
s of why she had come here, but for now he would take his reprieve.
He went back inside the office, opened the drug cabinet, and checked Carl’s supplies. Here, at least, Carl was efficient and well stocked. Epinephrine, injectable amoxicillin and several other antibiotics. Morphine, diazepam. Glucose for diabetics. Some antinausea agents. Prednisone. Activated charcoal in case of accidental poisoning. Atropine and a few other emergency heart and stroke medications. He felt a little more prepared. He checked Carl’s office and brought out the Physician’s Desk Reference and a Merck’s Manual. At one o’clock he drew a deep breath, but the telephone rang before he could open the doors.
By the time he had finished the call, it was five minutes after one. He stepped out into the waiting room, and to his surprise, at least twelve people were lined up in and around it. They were sitting in the chairs, standing out in the driveway, chatting quietly, waiting patiently. He was surprised but only for a moment. Times were hard. There had been layoffs at the local industries, and the drought had been easy on no one. Free medical care was a gift. He went to work greeting the patients, asking each one for their presenting problem, trying to make decisions quickly and efficiently.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
Sam glanced up at Elijah and nodded. He didn’t want to be rude, but the answer was obvious. He was in the midst of trying to separate the urgent from routine. So far he had gotten halfway through the line, asking each person what brought them here so that a chest pain didn’t wait behind a sprained ankle.
“I could help you with that,” Elijah offered. “I could do the triage, and you could get started on the urgent cases.”
Sam looked up sharply, surprised, then after a moment’s realization, shook his head at his own obtuseness. He had been so absorbed in his own problems, he had not even asked what type of missionary Elijah Walker had been.
Elijah clarified the unspoken question. “I’m a physician also. Traveled over most of Africa treating everything from cholera to polio. I’m not licensed to practice medicine in North Carolina, but I could be your assistant.”
“I’m sure you’re more than equal to this task,” Sam said. “And I’d be grateful for the help.”
They triaged together, then briefly compared notes, agreeing on who should be seen first. Annie returned and received the news of Elijah’s profession with amused resignation.
“Of course. Who else would I sit down beside? I told you, the landscape is littered with doctors. I attract them. I’m an MD magnet.”
She helped them, gave out numbered pieces of paper to the crowd, pulled charts, then brought new twin lambs out from the barn to entertain the children.
By the end of the afternoon they had seen sixteen patients, written ten prescriptions, lanced a boil, sent one man to the emergency room at Gilead Springs, and patted many hands.
****
“I don’t know how Carl does it,” Sam declared flatly after demolishing a plate of his mother’s pot roast and vegetables. They took their cake and coffee out onto the porch.
Elijah and Mary chatted easily, and when Mary rose up to do the dishes, Elijah insisted on helping.
Sam lifted an eyebrow when they had gone.
Annie, rocking in the swing, smiled. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” he replied. “Just wondering if there’s a little romance in the air.”
“Mary and Elijah?” She seemed intrigued by the prospect. “Well, why not?”
“Why not, indeed,” he said. “I guess they used to know each other years ago.”
“Is that a fact?” Annie was intrigued.
“That’s a fact.” He was too tired to care about his mother’s love life, but he was enjoying sitting here with Annie as the day ended. She took another bite of her cake, and the swing creaked companionably.
She sighed and her expression changed.
“What is it?” He tensed, not sure if he wanted to know.
“I’ve taken a new job,” she said, turning to look at him. “I’m moving to Los Angeles. That’s where I was headed when I decided to come here.”
“Los Angeles.” He felt a thud as reality settled onto him.
“Writing for the Times.”
“Congratulations.” He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice. “You’re running with the big dogs.”
She shrugged.
They chatted a little more, but something was different after that. Reality had made an appearance, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Truth was like that, he realized. Once out, it did not disappear easily.
“I’m about used up,” he finally said, rising from the porch. “I think I’ll turn in.”
She stood, as well, taking her cue. “I should leave, too. I need to get business taken care of tomorrow.” She did not look at him.
He heard her go into the kitchen, thank his mother, and speak to Elijah. He went into his room and closed the door and did not come out even after he heard her get into her car and drive away.
Twenty-six
The weekend passed quickly. On Saturday Sam made a few house calls, then worked on cleaning and restocking Carl’s office as well as charting, filing, and making clear notes for Margie Sue, the billing clerk, who would no doubt arrive eventually. He did not see Annie. The little rental car was gone, and he supposed she had gone to see her father. He had intended to visit Carl himself on Saturday evening, but after returning to his mother’s house, he had eaten the supper she’d prepared, then had lain down on the bed for a half hour’s rest, and had fallen asleep. He’d slept better and longer than he had in months—perhaps years. He awoke once at two in the morning, when he climbed under the covers, and then not until Sunday morning at ten.
The house was quiet. Mama was at church, of course. He had not been to church in years. Five, to be exact. He had not made a conscious decision to avoid it. It just seemed that unless he made it a priority, work filled in the space. But this Sunday he did no work except to return a few telephone calls, which were quickly dispatched. Instead, he passed a quiet day with his family. Jim and Laurie and Ricky and Amanda and all their children came over. Mama made supper for everyone, and Elijah joined them. He fit in naturally, chatting with the men, giving his kind courtesy to the women, but he was especially popular with the children. He played ball with Jim and Laurie’s youngest boy and girl, then spent nearly an hour swinging Ricky’s little daughters. When he sat down to rest, they crawled all over him. Sam heard the youngest call him Pawpaw, the name they had given his father. It gave him pause. Not because of any sense of possessiveness, but he realized again that Elijah’s leaving would leave a gap—especially for his mother.
He had watched her during the gathering. It could have been his imagination, but several times he thought he saw her eyes rest on Elijah, and when she did her face lit with a contentment he hadn’t seen in many years.
Now, Monday morning, Sam stepped onto the porch of the guesthouse and tapped on the door. He had invited Elijah to come with him on rounds and house calls this morning, Annie’s having insisted during Friday’s supper that she could handle the chores on her own.
“Diane does them by herself,” she had said with that lift of her chin, and Sam knew better than to argue.
“Come on in,” Elijah called out. Sam did.
Elijah was bending over the small kitchen table. “I’m just checking my bag to see if you might want to use it.” Sam imagined the traditional black satchel and was formulating a polite reply. If he wanted one of those, he could have his choice. He had his father’s and his grandfather’s somewhere up in the attic, not to mention Carl’s in the supply closet back at the clinic. When he came closer he was surprised. The bag was heavy-duty silver nylon, equipped with a sturdy lock, and was well stocked with an array of medications and instruments. He scanned them and saw everything he would need for any conceivable situation and some he could not conceive of.
“These are antimalarials,” Elijah said, setting aside a handful of vi
als. “These are AIDS and antiparasitic drugs.” Another handful joined them. “We probably won’t be needing any of them here.”
“Probably not,” Sam agreed. There was a good selection of antibiotics, two antipsychotics, a few standard heart medications, steroids, Valium, morphine, emetics, and antinausea medications, a good stock of vaccines, injectable and sublingual glucose, local anesthetics, Narcan in case of accidental drug overdose, asthma medications, tetanus vaccine. Ipecac. There was an assortment of simple surgical instruments, bandages and dressings, casting and splinting materials. Umbilical thread and obstetrical forceps.
“You’re ready for anything,” Sam said admiringly.
“Had to be,” Elijah said with a nod. “You get a week or two out, and you’re not coming back because you forgot something.”
“I suppose not.” Sam looked at the older man with a newfound respect. “Tell me about your work,” he said as they walked out to the car.
“I started out in Kenya,” Elijah said as they got in and began the drive to Carl’s office. “While I was there we built two hospitals. Then I worked in the Upper Nile area in South Sudan. We used to go in there with four-wheel drives, go as far as we could, then walk the rest of the way on foot. There’s so much war and poverty and disease, you feel like you’re dipping out the ocean with a teaspoon.”
“It must be very hard for you to come back after so long away doing such intense work,” Sam said, and he was struck with his own insensitivity. He had been so wrapped up in his own problems that he hadn’t even registered anyone else on his radar.
“It’s a bit of an adjustment,” Elijah admitted with a tight smile.
“I imagine you’re aghast at the excesses here,” Sam said, “having gotten by with so little for so long.” He thought of the expensive tests and equipment, the incredible amount of technology absorbed by each one of his tiny patients.
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