Tom and Nadia finished their meal, then, after saying their goodbyes, left the bar.
“I hope we didn’t scare them off,” I said.
Jeremy laughed. “Tom’s shy. He probably felt embarrassed around us. He’ll most likely take her out on his boat for a moonlight ride. Give them a chance to talk and get to know each other better. And, it’s more romantic than sitting in a bar with his big brother and the town doctor.”
I smiled. “You’re probably right. They do make a nice-looking couple.”
Someone put some money in the jukebox and music began to blast. Jeremy and I danced to a few tunes, then, both of us tired, called it a night and went home to sleep.
22
Kate
You Give Me Fever
THE NEXT FEW days were uneventful. On Friday, Jeremy and I planned to go to the mainland for dinner after he finished making deliveries to some of his regular customers. Thanksgiving was rapidly approaching and we needed to make plans for the holiday.
I checked my watch. It was almost seven p.m. and I hadn’t heard from him. This puzzled me. I knew he’d been at the boatyard around five and it didn’t seem likely delivering lobsters and clams on this small island could take two hours.
Feeling a little irritated, I sent him a quick text. I expected he’d respond promptly and sat down on the sofa to wait.
The minutes ticked by and my phone remained silent.
Now, I was getting worried. I wondered if he’d had an accident. We’d had some sleet the night before and I knew the roads could still be slippery. I wished I knew where exactly his route had taken him or the names of the customers he had deliveries for. I tried calling him on his cell, but his phone went directly to voicemail.
I began to pace the floor, wondering at what point I should call the police. I was about to dial our island constable, when my phone chirped.
“There is movement outside your front door,” said a recorded voice.
It was the camera. Feeling relieved, I hurried to look out the window, expecting to see Jeremy coming up the walkway.
But there was no one there. Puzzled, I went to the door and peered out the spyhole.
A body lay huddled on the porch right in front of the door.
My heart leapt into my throat. Was that Jeremy? The body was facing away from me and, in the dim light outside, it was hard to tell who it was. What if it were Vlad?
A wave of fear washed over me and, involuntarily, I backed away from the door. But I stopped myself. What if it were Jeremy? I had to help him.
Pushing my fear aside, I grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open.
Once outside, I recognized him immediately.
“Oh my God!” I cried. “Jeremy, what happened?”
I knelt down beside him. He was shivering. I put my hand on his forehead. He was burning up with fever.
“Katy…” he whispered.
“I’m here. Can you put your arm around my shoulder?”
He did as I asked and, somehow, I found the strength to pull him to his feet and drag him inside. I got him to the couch, where he collapsed.
“Hang in there,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I ran to the bedroom and grabbed a clean sheet from the closet.
I removed his shoes and covered him with the sheet. He was shaking with chills brought on by the fever.
“Thirsty,” he moaned.
I got a bottle of water from the fridge and managed to get him to take several swallows.
“I need to take your temp,” I said.
I quickly walked to the bathroom and grabbed my electronic thermometer along with a bottle of ibuprofen.
“Hold steady,” I told him when I returned. “Let me take your temp.”
105 degrees F.
I made him take some medicine, then called Steve at the clinic.
“Jeremy’s very sick. High fever. One-oh-five. I need to get him over there. Can you help me?”
“I’m on my way.”
I took a deep breath and waited. Ten minutes later the doorbell rang.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” I said, ushering Steve inside. “He’s got chills, sweating a lot. He needs IV hydration and something to bring his fever down. I’m thinking one of our hypothermia blankets.”
“Good idea,” replied Steve. “A cooling blanket will bring his temp down fast. Let’s get him into the van.”
Together, we moved Jeremy, who was now only semi-conscious, into the waiting van for the five-minute ride to Stormview. Nadia was waiting for us with a gurney and, finally, we got him inside the clinic into one of two patient rooms.
Once we had him in a bed, I started an IV for rehydration and to push antibiotics while Steve catheterized him. We then covered him with one of our cooling blankets.
“Any idea what’s happening with him?” Steve asked.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t know where he’s been tonight – he was delivering lobster. He could have picked up a bug, but I don’t think so. This is too much like his previous episode, only worse. Let’s get a CBC, electrolytes, blood culture, and a urinalysis and culture. I’m thinking possible Lyme disease or some other autoimmune disorder.”
Steve nodded. “Those are possibilities. What about malaria? He was overseas for a time.”
“No,” I replied. “I asked him about that. He never contracted anything infectious when he was in Afghanistan.”
“Well, you know, I hate to bring it up, but we do have to consider a possible malignancy.”
I stared at him, unable to speak. Finally, I found my voice.
“I know and we have to rule that out, but I can’t go there yet. For now, let’s try to get his fever under control. If need be, we can transfer him in the morning. I know the Infectious Disease doc at Maine Medical. I’ll talk to her and follow her recommendations.”
Steve nodded. “Okay. Let’s do a complete workup and we’ll see where the results take us.”
Decided, we got to work. I pushed my fears of malignancy to the back burner of my mind, afraid that just the thought of that would put me over the edge.
Lyme, I told myself. It has to be Lyme.
We collected the necessary blood and urine samples and Steve took them to our little laboratory to run them through the analyzer.
The use of the cooling blanket was having a positive effect and, at least for now, Jeremy appeared to be resting more comfortably. However, his fever still raged and, not knowing what else to do, I sat by his side, holding his hand.
Steve came back to the room a few minutes later.
“Everything’s running. We should have the results soon. The cultures will take longer.”
I nodded. “I know. I just can’t figure out what’s going on. Last time, I assumed it was the flu or something and, in the morning, he was fit as a fiddle.”
“Really? No lingering symptoms?”
“No, he said he felt great. Actually, he went off to work that day. And, he’s been fine ever since. Until tonight.”
Steve shook his head, obviously perplexed. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right about Lyme. This is ground zero for the disease. And, it has a multitude of symptoms. Unfortunately, tests for it aren’t always accurate.”
“Yeah, I know. Ticks will inherit the world. Nasty little bastards.”
Steve smiled. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, soda?”
I took a deep breath. “Coffee would be great.”
“Okay. Coming right up.”
He left the room and I turned my attention back to Jeremy. He was mumbling something in his sleep – something about his head. I leaned closer, trying to make out what he was saying, but it was impossible.
Sighing, I settled back in my chair. What was it he’d screamed the last time the fever took him? Something about getting someone or something out of his head?
Yes, I thought. That was it. What could he be referring to? Could it be just a headache brought on by the high fever? Or could it be something else?
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I didn’t know the answer and my only course was to wait and ask him when the fever subsided.
Steve came back with the coffee and I thanked him and told him to go up and get some sleep.
“I can take care of things from here on. You get some rest. Thank you. I couldn’t have handled this without you.”
“No problem, Kate. Jeremy’s a friend of mine, too. If you need me, page me. Okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks, I will.”
About an hour later, Jeremy’s temperature began to decrease. Taking this as a good sign, I left him to go check on the labs.
I was glad to see the results of his urinalysis were completely normal. Then, I checked the printout for the CBC.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed when I reviewed the values. “This makes no sense at all!”
I sat down in front of the analyzer, studying it. The machine was new and this was the first time, to my knowledge, that it had been used. Was the calibration off?
I looked again at the results, thinking I might have misread them. But I hadn’t. They were crazy. If this printout reflected a true picture of Jeremy’s blood, he would be dead. I threw the printout in the trash and went to the refrigerator and extracted another sample of his blood.
I’ll run this again, I thought. Maybe Steve made a mistake the first time. After all, it is new machinery.
I went over the protocol for operating the analyzer, following each step according to the manufacturers’ instructions, then left the lab and went back to check on Jeremy.
I glanced at my watch. It was two a.m. His temperature had decreased another degree. It looked like he was beginning to come out of it.
I sat back down at his bedside, curled my legs under me, and closed my eyes. His fever was following the same course as last time and, if I were right, he’d wake up in a few hours feeling great. It didn’t make any sense. And that bloodwork – it was off the charts.
I tried to put it all out of my mind so I could get some rest. I’d done all I could for the time being and it looked like he was going to get better. A little sleep wouldn’t hurt me.
It didn’t take long for the sandman to whisk me away and I slept a dreamless sleep until, out of nowhere, a hot finger of fear ran down my spine and a random thought leapt into my mind.
There’s something unnatural going on here. Something unclean.
My eyes popped open and, quickly, I sat up in my chair.
Where the hell had that come from? And what did it mean?
I glanced at my watch. It was five a.m. I’d slept for three hours. I looked over at the monitor. Jeremy’s temperature was back to normal and he was sleeping peacefully.
I breathed a sigh of relief, got up, and walked to the sink. Splashing water on my face, I then went to get myself another cup of coffee. It was going to be a long day and I would need all the caffeine I could ingest.
Steve was at the coffee machine when I got there.
“What’re you doing up?” I asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. “Decided to get a head start on the day. How’s our patient?”
“Still asleep. But his temp’s normal. Guess he’s out of the woods for now.”
“Great. Coffee?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Steve poured me a cup. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”
“A little.”
I sat at the front desk and sipped my coffee.
“Hey,” I said. “I got the quirkiest results from the blood analyzer. Made no sense at all. I re-ran everything just before I went to sleep. Could you check it?”
“Consider it done,” he answered, leaving the room.
He came back a few minutes later, a printout in his hand.
“This is not normal,” he said, handing the paper to me.
I glanced at the values and nodded. “Same as the first run. I think a call to the company’s rep is in order. The unit must be either defective or it’s been calibrated incorrectly.”
“That’s a possibility. But before we do that, why don’t we run a test on my blood and see what comes up?”
“If you’ve got blood to spare, that might not be a bad idea,” I responded, smiling. “Get a syringe and I’ll draw a sample. But first, let me get another cup of coffee. I’m tired and I don’t want to maim you in the process.”
Steve laughed, picked up the pot, and poured me another cup. “Take all the time you need. Oh, and I think our patient’s awake. Want to go check on him?”
“Good,” I said, standing. “I’ll go.”
Jeremy was sitting up in bed when I walked in.
“Hey,” he said, looking a bit confused. “What happened? Why am I here?”
I smiled and took his hand in mine. “You were pretty out of it last night when you arrived at my house. Your temperature was through the roof. We brought you here so we could monitor you more closely. What’s the last thing you remember?”
He frowned. “I was delivering lobster – last of the night and looking forward to dinner with you.”
“And who was your last customer?”
“Terry Morrison. When I got there, they invited me in for a quick drink. I accepted and last thing I remember is Terry handing me a bourbon and water.”
“Who all was there?”
“Oh, just Terry, Mary, and the old man.”
That increasingly familiar finger of fear was back, caressing my spine. How could the mere mention of Ian Morrison cause such a reaction? I didn’t know, but I also knew I didn’t like it.
“Okay,” I finally said. “You were sitting with Terry, Mary, and that old geezer having a drink. Don’t you remember leaving?”
“Naw. I vaguely remember falling and you helping me up. But that’s it.”
“I don’t get it. If you got suddenly sick, why would Terry or Mary allow you to leave? It doesn’t make sense.”
Jeremy yawned. “None of it makes sense to me. Why am I getting these fevers?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ve contracted Lyme disease. It has a lot of strange symptoms. Do you remember if you were bitten by a tick anytime in the last few months?”
“No. I don’t go in the woods unless I’ve got boots on my feet and long sleeves on my arms. And, I always wear gloves. If one got me, it did so without my knowledge or consent.”
“Well, it may have. I think we may need to perform an ELISA test to try to rule it out. Also, I’m going to talk to a friend I have at the hospital in town. She’s in Infectious Diseases. Maybe she can come up with some ideas on how we should proceed.”
“Okay, I guess. What’s an ELISA test?”
I grinned. “It stands for enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay. It’s the standard test for Lyme.”
“Well, you’re the doc. Now, how about some food? I believe I missed dinner last night. You got anything in this joint or do your plan on starving your patients?”
23
Kate
Thanksgiving
JEREMY RECOVERED SWIFTLY much like he had the time before. Saying he felt terrific, I had no choice but to discharge him from my care. I did, however, make him promise to see a specialist on the mainland. These sporadic fevers were a mystery to me and I worried about the underlying causation.
The doctor I recommended was a specialist in Infectious Diseases and was well known in the region. I called to make Jeremy an appointment, but was told that she was booked until the beginning of the new year. The scheduler advised, however, that if Jeremy’s fever should return that I could call and they would find time to squeeze him in for an evaluation.
In the meantime, we performed the ELISA test which came back negative putting me back to square one in the diagnosis of Jeremy’s malady. I was also still concerned about the strange results we’d gotten on his blood. The test we ran on Steve came back normal, putting a wet blanket on the assumption that Jeremy’s levels were the result of a faulty analyzer. Still, I thought a call to the company rep might be in order.
&n
bsp; The holidays were rapidly approaching and we decided to spend Thanksgiving on Storm at the Manor House. When I’d planned the renovation for the clinic, I’d left the kitchen and dining room intact, and we decided to have our holiday feast there. We invited Steve, Nadia, and Tom to join us and I let them know that they were also welcome to bring guests. Steve opted to invite one of the paramedics who had been at the clinic opening. They had been seeing each other casually and it gave me pleasure to know Steve’s love life was lighting up again. Before coming to Storm, he had been in a serious relationship. He and his partner were planning to marry, but the wedding was cancelled when Steve’s lover was diagnosed with a rare brain tumor. He died shortly thereafter. Coming to Storm was one way Steve was coping with this tragic loss.
After the conclusion of a staff meeting, I decided to broach the subject of the planned celebration.
“Okay,” I said. “Now that we’ve got all the business out the way, I think we need to talk about Thanksgiving. I’m in charge of ordering the turkey. Jeremy will bring lobster tails. That takes care of the main course. What else do we need?”
Nadia gazed down at the floor – she wasn’t known for her culinary skills.
“Max says he can bring some candied yams,” offered Steve. “And, I make a mean green bean casserole.”
“That sounds good,” I replied with a grin. “I can roast a turkey and make gravy. How about some mashed potatoes? They’re easy. I bet even Nadia could whip them up.”
The girl blushed.
“Don’t get upset, honey,” I said. “I’m just teasing. We can handle everything.”
“What about dessert?” Steve asked.
“Hmmm, tradition says pumpkin pie,” I responded.
Nadia raised her hand. “I can buy one.”
The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2) Page 9