Off the Record

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “You’re a good friend, Katie.” Paul offered her a bite of chili from a spoon. “Allow me to rejuvenate you.”

  She took the bite and smacked her lips. “Yum! I’m starved. When do we eat?”

  “Dinner is served, madam.” Paul flourished a bow, then ushered her to the already-set table and pulled out her chair.

  Giggling, Kate took her seat, and her husband pampered her throughout the simple, hearty meal of French bread and chili. When she could eat no more, Kate patted her lips with a paper napkin and laid it aside, rubbing her tummy.

  “If bedtime wasn’t in a few hours, I’d take a nap.”

  The phone rang, and Kate groaned.

  “I’ll get it.” Paul motioned for her to stay in her seat.

  Kate couldn’t tell who was on the other end by Paul’s part of the conversation, which consisted mostly of “hmm” and “uh-huh.” Finally he ended with, “That’s fine. We’ll be expecting you.”

  Paul rejoined her at the table and laced his fingers together on the tabletop. “That was Loretta. She’s about to close the diner for the night and says she has some ‘beans to spill’ that can’t wait another minute. Whatever it is, it’s bothering her somethin’ fierce. I told her to come on over.”

  Kate rose with her empty bowl and headed for the sink with it. “Last time I talked to her, I said I’d be happy to listen if she needed to talk. I’m glad she’s taking me up on the offer. Must be something important to entice her over here in this weather. Maybe between the two of us, we can get somewhere with convincing her to see a lawyer.”

  Ten minutes later, Kate admitted Loretta and her dripping umbrella into the foyer. The woman’s eyes were bloodshot, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. When they got her settled on the sofa, she tugged at the collar of her blouse and fidgeted with the strap of her worn leather purse.

  Paul patted her shoulder, then sat in an overstuffed chair across from her. Kate perched beside her guest, faint smells of sweat and grease from Loretta’s workday at the diner meeting her nostrils.

  Loretta heaved a massive sigh. “I’m losin’ it. Today I burned three hamburgers and misread chowder for coleslaw.”

  “More phone calls from bill collectors?” Kate prompted.

  “I hate those, surefire, but I’m almost gettin’ used to them. That caller ID phone really helps me avoid talkin’ to them. No”—she studied the toes of her sturdy work shoes—“it’s the memories that are gettin’ to me.”

  “Memories?” Paul leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

  Kate nodded with a significant glance toward Paul. With everything that had happened, she’d neglected to fill him in on the tidbit she’d discovered in the newspaper morgue. “Are you talking about your mom’s accident?”

  Loretta gaped at her. “How did you know?” She huffed and lifted a palm. “Never mind. You’re a sleuth. You’re supposed to figure out stuff.”

  “I don’t know any details. Just that a milk truck hit Maybelle Sweet. I assume that was your mother.” Loretta confirmed Kate’s statement with a nod. “And her leg was badly broken,” she continued. “I can see how that would have involved a doctor’s care. Didn’t your mom turn out okay after being seen at the hospital?”

  The diner owner shook her head. “You don’t know the whole story by a long shot. This business of medical bills and people tellin’ me I need to see a lawyer has stirred up the old nightmares. I can’t sleep worth a hoot.”

  “Would you like to tell us about it?” Paul sat back, a gentle gaze on their guest.

  Loretta released a long breath. “I haven’t spoken to a soul about this in all these years, but if I’m gonna tell anybody, it’d be you two. Maybe if I get it off my chest, I’ll feel better.”

  “That sometimes happens.” Paul nodded.

  “When you hear, maybe you’ll understand why I steer clear of sawbones and legal beagles.” The woman’s gaze fastened somewhere on the far wall. “Back when I was a little girl, my mama got her leg busted pretty bad. Like Kate said, a milk truck ran over her.

  “The doc who treated her was an alcoholic, and he set the leg wrong. When the cast came off, her leg was crooked. My dad was hoppin’ mad. Said he thought he smelled booze on that doc’s breath, and he took the man to court. Our shyster lawyer kept tellin’ us we had a case, convinced us to go after the milk company too. Daddy spent a pile on him. Meanwhile, Mama had an expensive surgery to try to correct the damage. My folks were countin’ on settlements from the negligent doctor and the milk company.”

  Loretta’s hard stare fell to Kate’s face. “Long story short, we lost our cases—both of them—my dad got stuck with all the medical bills and lawyer fees, and my mother never did walk without a limp. What’s more, we went busted, and the bank took our house. Destroyed my dad, and he died of a heart attack soon after. Never had time for doctors or lawyers since.” She sliced the air with the side of her hand.

  Kate eased the reflexive grip on the sofa cushion she hadn’t realized she’d taken. Tales of injustice wound her up. “That’s a tough story, Loretta. I had no idea.”

  “Nobody does. I don’t talk about it. My mom is dead now too. I’d feel like I was betrayin’ my parents’ memory to run to a lawyer now.”

  “That’s a heavy burden,” Paul said. “Obligation to the dead. It’s one we place on ourselves, and it’s often false.”

  “What do you mean?” Loretta hugged her purse to her chest.

  “If you could talk to your parents right now, what advice do you think they’d give you about your situation?”

  “I-I’m not sure. Never tried to put myself in their shoes.”

  Kate laid a hand on Loretta’s tense arm. “They loved you. They’d want the best for you. They wouldn’t want you to lose the diner.”

  Loretta stared from Kate to Paul and back again. “So you think I should take another chance on the legal system to beat the medical system? The very thought scares me to my toes.”

  “Can you go on the way you are,” Kate said, “knowing what the consequences might be?”

  Loretta’s spine drooped. “Guess I’m between that proverbial rock and a hard place.” She lifted her head. “What you said, Paul, about carryin’ a false burden, that makes sense. And, Kate, you’re right. My parents loved me. I loved them too, and I think that’s what’s makin’ it so hard for me to get over what happened to them.” She heaved to her feet. “Thanks for carin’ and listenin’.”

  “Any time, Loretta.” Paul rose with a smile.

  Kate echoed her husband and stood as well.

  Loretta headed for the door. “I’d better get home now and let you two get back to your quiet evening.”

  After Loretta left, Paul shook his head. “She’s been carrying around a lot of anger and fear for a long time. Those things keep more people bound than I care to count.”

  “I sensed a little softening. I hope!” Kate clasped her hands together.

  If only she could find some hint of an explanation for why Loretta had been singled out for those medical bills. A thread of understanding might give Loretta confidence enough in the outcome of legal intervention to seek the expert help she desperately needed.

  ON FRIDAY, Kate finally managed to finish her gardening project. Then she decided to kick back with a glass of iced tea and do a little Internet surfing on her laptop at home, even if the connection was a bit slow.

  While the computer booted up, she placed a phone call to the hospital in Chattanooga.

  “How is your mother doing?” Kate said when Lucy Mae came on the line.

  “So far, so good today,” Lucy Mae answered. “Lawton and I spent the night in a nearby motel. We’ll probably hang out here for the weekend, then come home Sunday evening, as long as Mother remains stable. She’s actually a little feisty today.” A hiccupy sob punctuated the statement.

  “You’re upset about her showing spunk?” Kate’s brows drew together. “Did she try to do something she shouldn’t?”

>   A long sigh met her ears. “She filled out a living will.”

  Kate’s chest tightened. “That’s a tough moment for a family.”

  “I want to respect Mother’s wishes,” Lucy Mae burst out, “but I can’t get over the DNR thing.”

  Kate made a sympathetic hum over Mrs. Kraemer’s decision to include a do-not-resuscitate clause in her living will. “Oh, Lucy Mae, that must be so hard for you.”

  “I’m not”—Lucy Mae’s voice broke—“handling the decision too well. You and Paul pray for me, okay?”

  Kate’s heart was already praying. “Your whole family is in our prayers, Lucy Mae.”

  They ended the call, and Kate wandered back to the kitchen table, where her laptop was ready to go. It was always such a trial for a family when a loved one was seriously ill. She and Paul had been through similar situations with their parents. Lucy Mae had all the sympathy her heart could give.

  Time to dig deeper to see if she could unravel the mystery of why Shirley Kraemer lay in a hospital bed when she should have been recovering nicely from hip-replacement surgery in the comfortable surroundings at Orchard Hill.

  Stephen Hancock’s creepy smile and his cryptic words had haunted her dreams the previous night. She knew he’d been in the military, but without specific information like a Social Security number and dates of service, she wouldn’t be able to request information online. He had been at the nurses’ station that day, and Rita said he was a “whiz” with electronics. It was possible he could have hacked into the system, though what motive he might have for erasing the prescription, Kate didn’t know.

  On a whim, Kate simply entered the man’s name in the search engine. She laughed to discover that his namesake was a famous British actor. There were also several Stephen Hancocks on Facebook. Then there was one who had a public blog called Seeds of Rebellion. Web logs or blogs could range from anything as basic as an Internet diary to something as sophisticated as ivory-tower essays and discussions. This one was a nonstop rant about the evils of “the system” and living “back to nature.”

  “Back to nature, all right.” Kate noted the marijuana leaf in the blog’s banner in lieu of the author’s photo. The writer of the blog referred to his mountain hideaway and to experience in the military that soured him on the government, but neither of those details meant that the author was the Stephen Hancock she was looking for. There could be dozens of those, maybe hundreds, in the country.

  The thought triggered curiosity to find out how many Stephen Hancocks lived in Tennessee or in and around Chattanooga. She didn’t have a Chattanooga phone book, but the online phone directory often worked just as well. She gave it a shot but got only a Steven Hancock—not the way this one spelled the name on his work tag. Maybe her Stephen Hancock didn’t have a landline. More and more people were going with just their cell phone.

  She entered a search for Stephen Hancock into a public-record search engine and got some results. Stephen Hancocks abounded in Tennessee, but only one resided near Chattanooga. He owned a small acreage north of the city and got his mail at a post-office box.

  Kate’s skin prickled. These facts fit way too nicely with the paranoid author of the Seeds of Rebellion blog. Would Orchard Hill hire a nursing assistant who used marijuana illegally? Not knowingly, she was sure. But she’d also heard that people who did drugs found ingenious ways to hide their habit. However, as far as Kate could figure out, even smoking pot didn’t connect Stephen Hancock to the medication cover-up.

  Kate skimmed the public-record results again and noticed a field listing living relatives and their locations. She didn’t recognize any of the names on Stephen’s list, but it might be interesting to run this kind of search on Carla Trexler. Wouldn’t it be nice if she could locate a living relative for the young woman at this difficult time?

  A few clicks later, Kate gasped as the truth slapped her in the face.

  Carla Trexler had lied to her!

  The young woman’s father wasn’t dead. He was living, big as you please, in Carla’s hometown of McKenzie.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kate mulled over her discovery about Carla’s father for the rest of the day. If the young nurse had lied so matter-of-factly to her about something that huge, how could Kate believe anything else she had said? Of course, Kate didn’t know what had led the young woman to cut her father out of her life.

  By Saturday morning, she’d discussed the issue with Paul, and they had prayed about it. Kate decided to give Carla a call and ask if the kids were well now and if she had gotten the department-store job. Then she’d see where the conversation led. She took the cordless phone out to the patio and sat in one of the wrought-iron chairs. A May breeze ruffled her hair and fluttered the tender spring leaves on the trees.

  “Oh, hi, Kate.” The dull tone of the young woman’s greeting shaved a little luster off the gorgeous day.

  “How are Ryan and Mandy?” Kate asked.

  “They’re fine now...thankfully. At least that’s one thing going right.” Carla’s chuckle held a bitter taint.

  Kate’s heart sank. “I take it you didn’t get the job.”

  “Oh, sure, I got that. I start on Monday.”

  “That’s great.” So what was wrong here? “But I think I hear a frown in your voice.”

  Carla snorted. “What good is a job going to do me if I end up going to jail?”

  Kate stiffened, the iron of the chair like bars around her. “Who mentioned any such thing?”

  A long sniff met her ears. “I’m being a baby again. A friend from work called a few minutes ago to tell me that a rumor’s going around Orchard Hill that I’m going to be prosecuted.”

  Rita again with her gossip about fellow staffers? “It wasn’t a nursing assistant who told you, was it?”

  “Naw. My friend from the personnel department. Nobody knows where the rumor started, but it’s hot stuff around the facility. They’re all dining on roast Carla.”

  Kate rumbled her fingers against the tabletop. She still figured her hunch was right about the source. Worse, she had reason to think the rumor might be true. And if Carla was guilty of negligence, she might have consequences coming, but if not...Lord, give me wisdom for what to tell her right now.

  “Carla, Jesus gave a group of folks some very good advice. He said each day has enough of its own problems without borrowing any from the future. Enjoy your healthy children and rejoice in your new job. Let the rest take care of itself. With all the praying that’s going on, the truth is eventually going to come out.” If the young nurse was truly innocent of wrongdoing, those words might bring a measure of comfort.

  “It can’t happen soon enough for me.” The response was heartfelt.

  Good reply, Carla, but why did you tell me your father is dead when he’s not? The deliberate lie ate away at Kate’s ability to trust Carla.

  “I can be thankful that I have a patient landlord too,” the young nurse went on.

  “You’re behind on the rent?” Not surprising, but it did break Kate’s heart a little. No matter if Carla turned out to be guilty, those children needed a home.

  A few seconds of silence passed. “Let’s just say that a few bills are going to have to wait awhile. The kids and I have toughed out lean times before, but somehow I’ve always been able to feed them and put a roof over their heads. But this time I don’t see—” Her voice cracked. “Well, we won’t go there. I’ll just try to stay thankful.”

  “You’re a good mom, Carla. Paul and I have both noticed that. It’s normal for a parent to want to make sure their children’s needs are met.” Kate paused and prayed silently for the right words. “I’m not going to ask you any questions about what happened in the past, but if there’s any possibility that your father would feel that way about you and his grandchildren, you might consider going to him for help.”

  “I wouldn’t ask that man for anything if I was starving!” The statement whipped out like a lash, then a gasp followed. “You know. How?”r />
  “I was looking online for someone—anyone—who could give you a hand right now and stumbled across the information.”

  “Are you sure you weren’t investigating me for this friend of yours—Mrs. Kraemer’s daughter?” Her tone oozed surliness.

  Whatever the young woman’s father had done to earn her enmity, it brought out the worst in Carla. “That wasn’t my prime motivation, no. I’m keeping my eyes and ears open and asking a few questions. You knew that. I’ve been aboveboard with you on everything, so I wanted to be on this issue also.”

  “Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be as honest as you.” Carla’s sarcasm snapped like a whip.

  Kate winced. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Tell you what. I appreciate all you’ve done for me so far, but just forget you know me, okay? It’ll be a burden off of you. The kids and I will be fine. We’ve gotten by without help before, and we can do it again.” The young nurse sucked in a long, audible breath. “And you know what? If it takes talking to every single person who was on duty that day, I’m going to figure out how that medication order went missing and clear my own name—no matter what it takes!” The distinct click on the line announced that Carla had hung up.

  Kate groaned. She tried the number again but got a busy signal. Carla must have taken the receiver off the hook.

  THAT AFTERNOON, Kate and Paul picnicked in Copper Mill Park, and she shared her distressing conversation with Carla. They committed the young woman to the Lord in prayer, then took the afternoon off for some R & R. Kate was thankful for the downtime. Her brain needed nothing more strenuous to think about than how pretty the spring trees were during their walk, hand in hand, along Copper Mill Creek.

  In the evening, she resumed telephoning for the blood drive.

  “No, I’m sorry. I simply won’t have time to donate blood next weekend.” The brisk tone came from Gail Carson, a real-estate agent at Cumberland Realty.