Alexia pushed the talk button. It was Rena.
“You’ve got to come to the hospital,” Rena began in a rush. “I don’t think they’re going to remove the breathing tube.”
“But the judge—”
Rena interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. Mr. Pinchot has talked to the hospital’s attorney, and they’ve come up with a way to ignore the judge’s order.”
“What?” Alexia blurted out. She looked at Ted and lowered her voice. “That doesn’t make any sense. Pinchot wouldn’t risk being held in contempt of court. How do you know about this?”
“I overheard two doctors talking near the nurse’s station. Neither of them was at the hearing, but I think one is the pulmonary specialist. I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to say.”
“Where are you now? I thought you weren’t going to be at the hospital.”
“I changed my mind, and I’m glad I did. I’m outside the hospital on the sidewalk. They’re meeting in one of the conference rooms near the ICU waiting area.”
“Who?”
“Ezra’s lawyer, the hospital’s attorney, my father-in-law, and several doctors.”
“Is Dr. Draughton there?”
“No. I don’t think he was invited. Neither was I.”
Alexia wracked her brain for insight into Ken Pinchot’s strategy. She needed more information.
“You have a right to be in that meeting.”
“What can I do? That’s why I need you to be here.”
It would take almost four hours to drive to Greenville. Alexia had to figure out a better way to intervene than a personal appearance.
“Don’t hang up the phone. Go back into the hospital,” Alexia ordered. “Walk into the conference room and hand the phone to Pinchot so I can talk to him.”
“What if he won’t take it?”
Alexia hesitated. “Let’s give it a try.”
“Okay. I’m going back inside.”
Alexia put her thumb across the bottom of the phone so Rena couldn’t hear and spoke to Ted.
“They’re trying to find a way to get around the judge’s order.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. There is no legal reason not to do what has been ordered. Rena is taking the phone to the lawyer on the other side so I can find out what’s going on.”
She waited, imagining Rena taking the familiar route through the hospital corridors. Alexia looked down at the phone. The connection was lost.
“She must be in an elevator. She’ll call back as soon as she’s on the floor.”
A few seconds later, the phone rang.
“Where are you?” Alexia asked.
“At the conference room. I’m opening the door.”
“Just go in and hand him the phone.”
Alexia steeled herself for the confrontation with Pinchot. She waited. There was no sound of voices on the other end. She looked down at the phone to see if the connection had been lost, but it still showed good contact. Rena came back on the line.
“They’re gone.”
“Try to find him.”
“Okay. I’ll go into the ICU waiting area.”
A few moments of silence followed until Rena said, “Not here, either.”
“Are any of the doctors there? Dr. Kolb? Dr. Berman?”
“Dr. Kolb is out of town. I don’t see anyone I recognize.”
“Go into the ICU area to Baxter’s room.”
“They won’t let me take the cell phone in there.”
“You go and call me back. If Pinchot or Dr. Berman is there, I want to talk to one of them immediately.”
Alexia’s level of stress was rising higher and higher. It was unusual for her to be totally blindsided during the course of litigation. Most pitfalls could be identified in advance even if the facts of the case wouldn’t let her completely avoid them. In this situation, she couldn’t see Ken Pinchot’s angle of attack. Hospital politics or personal persuasion weren’t enough to override Judge Holcomb’s directive.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Ted. “You can go on. I have to wait for Rena to call me.”
Ted nodded. “Okay. I’ll be over at the parsonage. Stop by and we’ll go over my estimate for the renovation of the house on King Street.”
Alexia opened the door of her car and sat down. She watched Ted walk across the parking lot to his house. It should have remained a pleasant afternoon in Santee—a time for her to get to know Ted Morgan better. The phone rang.
“Yes?” she asked.
“No one is there but Baxter. He looks worse than the other day.”
“Where is everybody?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure of what you heard?”
“Of course I am!” Rena responded with obvious agitation. “Why else would I call you?”
Alexia conducted a fierce but brief internal debate about whether to go or stay. Her sense of duty to her client prevailed.
“Okay. I’m on my way,” she said. “But I want you to stay at the hospital until I arrive. Try to track down any doctor you recognize. Find out what you can and then call me. The only person to avoid is Ezra. Understood?”
“Yes.”
Alexia clicked off the phone and walked quickly over to the parsonage. Ted came to the door.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“There’s a problem with implementation of the judge’s order, and I have to go to Greenville.”
“Now?” he asked with obvious disappointment.
Alexia sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’ll call you later.”
As Alexia’s car disappeared around a bend in the road, Ted lingered on the front steps. All that waited for him in the kitchen was a chicken salad sandwich, and he wasn’t hungry. Closing the front door of the parsonage, he returned to the sanctuary. The large room that earlier had been bustling with activity was now completely quiet. He walked down the aisle and sat in front of the piano but didn’t play. First, he needed to think.
Comfortable with spontaneity in music, Ted was much less impulsive in his personal actions. The sudden surge of attraction he felt for Alexia Lindale when he saw her at the conclusion of the service had surprised him. It was the end of a Sunday morning church service, not the climax of a romantic dinner, yet she seemed to be at the same place in her feelings as he was. She knew he wanted to kiss her and made it easy. She kept the mood light, but it was a serious moment to Ted. It had been several years since he’d allowed himself a similar level of intimacy with a woman. His mind didn’t offer any answers about the future, and he returned to the inner abode where he’d learned to dwell—a place called patience.
He bowed his head and offered a silent prayer for direction as to what to play. Immediately, Baxter Richardson and his family came to mind. He thought again about Maybeth Wells, a rose taken to heaven before it bloomed on earth. He opened a Bible to the Psalms, put his hands on the keyboard, and began. His thoughts shifted from himself to a family he’d never met and a man he didn’t know. Resting the open Bible on the piano he began to play. Infused with sound, the words on the page became notes that permeated the atmosphere of the room and swirled upward like incense.
Once she was on the highway, Alexia called Gwen, who agreed to check on Boris and Misha.
“I want to come home late tonight, but they need to be let out in a couple of hours,” Alexia said.
“Why don’t I just hang out at your place until you get back?” Gwen asked. “I can be alone there as easily as I can here.”
“That would be great. Make yourself at home. Feel free to eat or drink anything you can find.”
During the long drive to Greenville Rena didn’t call. Twice, Alexia tried to reach her but landed in her voice mail. At the hospital she parked and walked through the main entrance. Inside the elevator her heart began beating faster in anticipation of the unknown. Several small groups of people were scattered about the ICU waiting room, but none of the Richardson family were present. Alexia approach
ed the male attendant, a familiar face from one of her previous visits.
“Is anyone from the Richardson family here?” she asked.
The young man nodded. “They went into the patient area a couple of minutes ago. It’s already crowded, but you can ask the doctors if you can be present.”
Alexia’s mouth went dry. “What are they doing to the patient?”
The phone on the desk rang, and the orderly answered it. Alexia didn’t wait. She pushed open the door to the ICU unit.
Rena stood on the far side of the bed. She felt detached. The other people in the room moved as if connected to wires. Their voices muted. Their actions in slow motion. Baxter was already in a different realm. The overhead light shone brightly on his motionless form, and for a few fleeting seconds, Rena envied him. He was about to leave the world of pain while she remained to endure the struggle. She picked out a spot on Baxter’s forehead and stared at it. Silently, she commanded the apparition that had stalked her to rejoin the figure on the bed. With each passing day, the events at the waterfall had receded deeper into the crevices of her memory, and her future happiness demanded that every connection she had with Baxter sink beyond the ability of anyone to rescue.
Ezra stood next to Baxter’s head on the opposite side of the bed. Rena tried to avoid his sad eyes, but in the close quarters of the hospital room it was impossible. However, he held no immediate threat. The decision by the hospital administration to comply with Judge Holcomb’s order had taken the fight from her father-in-law, and he’d aged years before her eyes. Every few seconds he stroked Baxter’s hair. The gesture made Rena’s skin crawl.
Beside Ezra was Dr. Berman and a doctor Rena didn’t know. Jeffrey stood at the foot of the bed. He’d given Rena a solemn look when he entered the room, but she caught the hint of an unknown mockery in his eyes. Her brother-in-law was as complex as Baxter was simple. Rena wasn’t sure what to say to him and kept her mouth shut. Total cooperation between her mind and her tongue was not guaranteed, and she didn’t want to get herself into trouble with her words. There would be time to talk to Jeffrey, but she wasn’t sure what needed to be said.
A nurse and a respiratory therapist were scurrying around getting ready. Rena fidgeted. It should be simple. Turn off the ventilator. But apparently the hospital rules and regulations required a meaningless protocol.
“Do you want us to give him any fentanyl?” the nurse asked.
“No, it’s not necessary,” Dr. Berman said. “Just keep the lorazepam at the current level.”
The respiratory therapist spoke. “I’m reducing the inspired oxygen to 21 percent.”
“That’s fine,” the doctor beside Dr. Berman answered. “Reduce the apnea, heater, and other ventilator alarms to minimum setting.”
Rena shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The door opened, and Alexia Lindale peeked into the room. Ezra glanced over his shoulder.
“What are you doing here?” he blurted out with indignation.
“I asked her to come,” Rena answered. “She’s here to help me through this.”
Dr. Berman quickly intervened. “Why don’t you stand beside Mrs.Richardson?” he said. “We’re almost ready.”
Alexia squeezed past Jeffrey and joined Rena. The other people resumed their focus on the unconscious figure in the bed. The activity in the room reminded Alexia of the preparation for execution by lethal injection. She tried to shake off the image. Baxter’s death would be more merciful than the judgment he deserved.
“We’re ready to remove the endotracheal tube,” the doctor said.
Ezra blocked Alexia’s view of what the doctor was doing, but she kept her eyes glued to the steady rising and falling of Baxter’s chest. The faint hissing sound slowly stopped, and the movement of Baxter’s chest ceased with it. There was total silence for a few seconds, and Alexia found herself holding her own breath. She’d never been in a room when someone died. It was an eerie feeling. Ezra put his hand on Baxter’s shoulder and bowed his head. Alexia could see Rena staring intently at her husband. She then sighed with relief. It was over.
The nurse moved a piece of equipment to the side, and Alexia could see Baxter’s face. He was wearing the pale mask of death. When the nurse resumed her position, Alexia glanced again at Baxter’s chest. There was still no sign of movement.
“There is independent respiration,” the therapist said matter-of-factly. “It’s weak but steady.”
“Check the rate,” the doctor replied.
Ezra raised his head. Alexia’s eyes grew bigger as she stared more intently at the motionless form in the bed. The words didn’t match what she saw. Baxter was gone. He was as inert as a lump of clay. She glanced sideways at Rena, who took a step backward and collapsed before Alexia could catch her. Her body hit a rollaway table with a loud bang and knocked it over. Dr. Berman and the nurse quickly came around the bed. Alexia got out of the way and left the room.
She returned to the ICU waiting room and sat down. She didn’t feel very steady herself, and the room became unnaturally warm. She put her head down toward her knees. A male voice brought her back up.
“Do you need some water?” he asked.
Alexia looked up. It was the handsome young man who had been in the room.
“Uh, yes.”
“I’ll get it. In the meantime, breathe deeply and slowly.”
In a few seconds, he returned with a plastic cup. Alexia took a sip and began to feel more normal.
“I’m Jeffrey Richardson,” he said. “You must be Ms. Lindale, the lawyer.”
Alexia nodded. “Thanks for the water. After Rena fainted, I felt a little lightheaded myself. Why did you leave the room?”
“All the medical personnel came rushing in to check Baxter and take care of Rena. I was in the way.”
“That’s the way I felt, too,” Alexia said. “I hope Rena didn’t hurt herself. That was a nasty fall.”
Jeffrey touched a place on the back of his head. “She has a pretty nasty bruise, but they were taking care of her.”
Alexia stood up. She was dizzy for a second, and Jeffrey reached out and held her arm.
“I’m okay,” she said without pulling away.
“You still look pale. Maybe you should sit back down.”
Alexia plopped back in her chair. “Yeah. But don’t stay. You need to go back to your family.”
Jeffrey glanced back toward the ICU area. “Yes. I need to check on Rena, too.”
After Jeffrey left, Alexia finished the cup of water. The door opened and Dr. Berman entered the waiting room. Alexia stood again. The dizziness had passed.
“Dr. Berman!” she called out.
The neurosurgeon came over to her.
“What can you tell me about Baxter?” she asked.
“That he’s breathing on his own and otherwise unchanged.”
“Were you surprised?” Alexia asked.
The doctor tilted his head to one side. “Not really. Your suggestion in court was a good one. We would have eventually tried to wean him from the ventilator, and it’s good to know he can breathe on his own. It will take time to know whether the additional strain of independent respiration will cause his overall condition to deteriorate. There are other mountains to climb. The greatest danger remains pneumonia.”
“Is he still paralyzed?”
“For now. He may recover movement, or he may be at a permanent plateau. His long-term status may not be known for weeks or months; however, we will transfer him out of ICU in a day or so.”
“Into a regular room?” Alexia asked in surprise.
“Yes. His father wondered if Baxter could be taken home if a suitable environment can be created. I told him that’s an option, but it would be very expensive unless an insurance company approves it as a cheaper alternative to continued hospitalization or care in a skilled nursing facility. It would require registered nursing care as well as a full-time attendant.”
“I doubt money is a problem,” Alexia said.
>
“That’s what Mr. Richardson indicated.”
“How is Rena?”
“She’s resting in an empty room. The ice pack they gave her should be enough to lessen the swelling of that contusion she suffered. She should be coming out in a few minutes.”
“Does Dr. Draughton know what happened?” Alexia asked.
“Not yet. I’ll let him know. He’s rarely—” The doctor stopped.
“Wrong?” Alexia finished.
Dr. Berman smiled slightly. “Ms. Lindale, doctors can’t admit a mistake in judgment, especially in front of a lawyer.”
42
Awake, harp and lyre!
PSALM 108:2
As she lay on the hospital bed, Rena opened her eyes and stared at the wall in the darkened hospital room. She and Baxter were almost roommates. She wanted to close her eyes for ten seconds, open them, and find that her husband was gone. But it was no use. Baxter was alive. She put down the ice pack and felt the goose egg on the back of her head. It was now a very tender, chilled mound of flesh. She slipped from the bed and put on her shoes. A nurse entered the room.
“Are you steady enough to get up?” she asked.
Rena nodded. “I think so. Is anyone with my husband?”
“I don’t think so.”
Rena followed the nurse into the open area. The door to Baxter’s room was open. Her father-in-law and Jeffrey were not in sight. She entered and closed the door behind her. The ventilator stood at the head of the bed and mocked her. The device had ceased its striving but Baxter had continued on without its assistance. She felt so tired, so exhausted, from the endless tug of war with the person who lay inert in the bed. She leaned over until her lips almost touched his left ear.
“Why don’t you quit fighting?” she whispered.
At close range she could see the gentle rising and falling of his chest.
“It would be easier to let go,” she continued. “It’s not worth it to stay here. Go and be free.”
The gentle rising and falling continued.
Rena clenched her fists. She wanted to pound them on Baxter’s chest and scream at the top of her lungs. When healthy, Baxter was fairly sedentary. But in a paralyzed, comatose condition he demonstrated a resiliency and desire for survival beyond her ability to comprehend. Fuming, she turned and left the room without a strategy or plan of action.
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