"Do we have time for lunch?
" she asked, making her way down the slope. Zack glanced at his watch.
"About forty-five minutes. I'm glad you're here." Suzanne stretched on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Me, too," she said.
"Can I set this food out, or is Cheap dog lurking somewhere? "
"No, no. Mop-face and the Fleet out there are avowed enemies. Sort of like sibling rivalry. He's home digging up the yard."
She spread the blanket and set out dishes of fried chicken, smoked fish, and salad. Then she extracted a small portable radio, set it on the grass, and fiddled with the dial until she found WEVO. The announcer was thanking his guests for participating in Midday Roundtable and inviting listeners to stay turned for a special edition of Music of the Masters.
"You must think I'm a little crazy for the way I've been acting around you, " she said as she poured lemonade. "I wanted to apologize. Zack shrugged. "No need, " he said. "You've had a few more important things to deal with than me."
"Perhaps. Just the same, I've been acting like a jerk, and I'm sorry."
He reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Fair enough, " he said. "If that's what you need, then apology accepted. There, do you feel better?"
"Zack, I… I want to explain."
"Hey, I don't require any-"
"No, I want to." She studied her hands. "At least I think I do."
For much of the night she had sat with Helene, struggling to come to grips with the past. "Nothing matters except the truth, " her friend had said. "Nothing matters except how you really, truly feel. Right here, in your gut. I go out the way I do, see men the way I do, because I honestly know, in my heart, that I hate being alone. Otherwise I'd stay at home or join the Ammonoosuc Valley Quilters. Believe me I would. You don't have to do it my way, or anyone else's way for that matter, but your own, Suze. But-and it's a big but-you can't keep fighting your feelings. You can't fight who you are. If you think you care about the man, tell him who you are, where you've been. If he can deal with it, fine. If he can't, that's his problem."
It all had made so much sense while they were talking. Now, Suzanne was not so sure. There was more than a little to be said for living the safe life. The meadow, abutting the low hills southwest of town, glowed verdant and golden in the dry afternoon sun. For a time they ate in silence, save for the deep, cultured voice of the WEVO announcer, who was extolling the virtues of an English composer whose name Zack missed.
"Zachary, " Suzanne said suddenly, "the other night was the first time I've made love in more than three years."
"Well, you certainly haven't gotten rusty, " he replied. "I would also guess that whatever the reason for those three years of celibacy, it wasn't a lack of offers."
She smiled at him wistfully. "You're sweet. Actually, there haven't been that many. I haven't been able to trust any man enough even to be encouraging." 17 "If you're trying to make me feel special, you're doing a great job. "You are special… Zack, my husband-my ex-husband-did an incredible hatchet job on my life, and then left me for dead. The scars that formed just don't seem to want to heal. I don't put all the blame on him for what happened. I could have put my foot down when I figured out what was going on. I could have gotten out. But I stayed. I always told myself it was for Jen, but looking back, I realize that I simply couldn't admit to myself how blind I had been-how badly I had misjudged the man I had married. And I couldn't accept that he didn't care enough about me to change."
"You were young."
"Twenty-three, if you call that young. And not a very worldly twenty-three at that. Paul was a Ph. D. Brilliant, handsome, charming as hell. Already an associate professor at thirty-five. Every woman in school had a crush on him. Unfortunately, what they didn't know what I didn't know-was how sick he was inside. He was a sociopath, Zachary. A womanizer, a drug addict, and a glib, an unbelievably glib liar. He used me. In every way imaginable, he used me."
She searched Zack's eyes for any signs of judgment or revulsion, but saw only sadness. "You don't have to share any more of this if you don't want to, " he said, taking her hand. "No, I'm okay. Much better than I thought I'd be. You're really very easy to talk to. "For several years,
" she went on, "Paul stole prescriptions from the hospital, made them out to his women or his cronies or to people who didn't even exist, and signed my name. He had my signature down even better than I did. He hit up a dozen or more wholesale houses and worked his way through just about every pharmacy in the state."
"Jesus…"
Suzanne gazed off toward the mountains to the south and began rubbing at her eyes. "Are you okay? " Zack asked. "Huh?… Oh, sure. I'm fine. Fine."
She fished through her purse and put on her sunglasses. "Where was IT?"
"You were telling me about the prescriptions. Listen, if you want to change the subject, it's perfectly-"
"No, no. It feels good to be able to talk about it." She reached beneath her sunglasses and again rubbed her eyes. "Besides, there's not that much more to tell. Somehow Paul must have found out that the DEA people were on to me, because a week before they showed up at our door, he emptied out our bank account, sold everything we had of value, and took off. No note, no call, nothing. Jen was only two at the time. A year or so later, I heard that he was teaching at a medical school in Mexico.
Somebody else said they s'nv him at an international conference in Milan. But by that time all I wanted was never to hear his name again."
"What happened to you?"
"Pardon?"
"I asked what happened to you. Suze, are you sure you're all right?"
"Is the glare bothering you?"
"No. Why?"
"Nothing… nothing. What did you ask?"
"Suzanne, let's just leave it for another time-"
"No! Now, wh-what was it?"
She continued to stare off at the mountains. The muscles in her face had grown lax and expressionless. Her hands had begun to tremble. Zack studied her uncomfortably. He glanced at his watch. Barbara Nelms and her son were due in ten minutes. "Suzanne?"
She did not respond. "Listen, " he said, shutting off the radio and putting it back into the wicker basket. "I think maybe you've shared enough for one day." He began repacking the leftovers. "I'm just happy you felt able to talk about it with-"
"You know, ridiculous as it may sound, " Suzanne went on fluidly, "I'm not sure I know exactly what happened next…"
Zack looked at her queerly. The lifelessness was gone from her face and her voice, and she was as animated as ever. He battled back the urge to again ask her if she was okay.".. One minute, I was suspended from the hospital, sitting in lawyers' offices, fighting with the child welfare people and trying to fend off the DEA animals, and the next I was here in Sterling, putting in pacemakers."
Zack studied her for any lingering sign of distraction, but saw none. It was as if a cloud bad passed briefly across the sun and then had suddenly released it. He forced concern from his mind. She seemed, as she had claimed, to be absolutely fine. "Did Frank have a hand in that?
" he managed. "I guess. One day he called, the next day he came down and interviewed me, and the next day, it seemed, the pressure that had been on me from all those sides began to disappear."
"Well, good for Frank." Zack felt his tension recede. "We haven't been getting along too well lately. I think I'll have to try a little harder. "
"I'm not really sure if it was him or Ultramed, " she said, "but someone got the wolves off my back."
"That's a horrible story."
"Except for the ending, it is."
"Call that part of it the beginning, " Zack said. "I hope telling you all of that helps you see why I've had a little problem with letting a man back into my life. And also why I feel obligated to support Ultramed wherever I can. Thanks to Paul, loyalty has moved ahead of just about everything else on my list of qualities that matter in a person."
"I understand."
She kissed him-once, and then again. The last drop of his worry vanished. "So, " she said, still cradling his face in her hands, "just be patient with me, okay?"
"Just once in more than three years, huh?"
He repacked the last of their lunch and pulled her down to him. "As soon as we have a little time, I'd like to help you improve on that average."
She brushed her lips across his neck. "In that case, just don't stop trying. My horoscope told me to be on the lookout for a tall, dark stranger who did coin tricks."
He ran his fingers slowly down the back of her thigh and over her calf., Thanks for the picnic, " he said. "Thanks for dessert. And listen, good luck with the Nelms boy, I hope this works out. If you get anywhere today, I think we should consider writing up our technique for some journal. We can title the article Pediatric Neurology Alfresco."
She pushed herself to her feet. Zack walked her to her car and watched until she had disappeared down the hill. Then he returned to the field, absently humming a passage from Fantasia on Greensteeves by Ralph Vaughan Williams. Toby Nelms looked chronically ill. His skin was midwinter pale, with several small patches of impetigo alongside his nose and at the corner of his lips. He was thin as a war orphan and carried himself with a dispirited posture, his gaze nearly fixed on the ground. But it was the listless, dull gray of his eyes that worried Zack the most. They were the eyes of utter defeat which he had encountered so many times in terminally ill patients-the eyes of death. At Zack's request, Barbara Nelms hugged her son, promised to return for him as soon as she had finished shopping, and drove back down the hill to town.
If Toby was frightened at her departure, his dispassionate expression hid the fact well. He had spotted the Fleet almost immediately, and had glanced over at it twice before she had even started to drive off. Zack reflected on Brookings's account of the child's terrified dash across the clinic parking lot, and knew that, for the moment at least, he was making progress. A tumor, a seizure disorder, a congenital, slowly developing vascular abnormality, a toxic reaction to something the boy was consuming without anyone's knowledge-Zack had balanced the possibilities against the psychiatric diagnoses and found all of them wanting. He had even made a brief drive around the boy's neighborhood, searching for a landfill or other dumping site where Toby might be sustaining a chemical exposure. Nothing. "Hi, kiddo, " Zack said, kneeling on the grass, two yards away from the boy. "My name is Zack."
There was curiosity in the boy's eyes, but no other reaction. "I'm a doctor, but I'm not going to examine you, or do any tests, or even touch you. Please believe that. I would like you to learn to trust that I would never lie to you, and that I mean exactly what I say, okay?
I'll say it once more. I will never, ever lie to you. I asked your mom to bring you here because I thought it might be easier for us to get to know one another outside the hospital."
At the mention of the word hospital, a shadow of fear darkened the boy's expression. "Your mom will be back as soon as she finishes her shopping,
" Zack added quickly. "Meanwhile, we can lie around, or explore, or even climb up to that little cliff over there. This place is called the Meadows. I used to play here when I was a boy." He flashed momentarily on Suzanne. "I still do, in fact, " he added. Toby's eyes darted again toward the Fleet. "I built that plane over there a long time ago, " Zack explained. "It flies by remote control." He held up the control box for the boy to see. "She loops, and rolls over, and zooms up to the clouds.
Go ahead. Take look at her."
Toby Nelms remained where he was, but there could be no mistaking his interest. "Go on. It's okay. I'm going back to the car for a second to get Some fuel for her.", Only when he had reached the van did Zack turn back. The boy was kneeling by the Fleet, and was, ever so gently, running his fingers over the shiny, lacquered finish of her wings. Too anxious to stay away for the last fifteen minutes of the agreed-upon hour, Barbara Nelms rolled to stop some distance downhill from the meadow and made her way quietly toward Zack's van, half expecting to find her son waiting there, in near hysterics, for her return. What she found instead, was a note, taped to the rear window. Mrs. Nelmstake a peek if you want, but please, try not to be seen. No words from Toby yet, but we're getting there. I need another hour. Please call my office and ask my receptionist to do the best she can with my schedule. See you later. Z. Iverson From just beyond a small rise, she could hear the high-pitched whine of the model-airplane engine. Crouching low, she worked her way up. Near the crest of the hillock, she flattened herself in the tall grass and then peered over. Zachary Iverson sat alone, his back toward her. Her son was nowhere in sight. Suddenly terrified at what she might have done by trusting a man who was little more to her than a voice on the phone, she began to scramble to her feet. Then, just as quickly, she dropped back down. The boy was there, nestled between the physician's legs, sharing the stick of the radio-control device.
"That's it, fella, " she heard Zack cry over the noise. "A little more, a little more, and… now!"
The plane, which had begun a slow roll across the grass, shot forward and then up, climbing at a steep angle toward the treetops at the far end of the meadow. "That's it. You've got it. Now ease off. Ease off.
Terrific! Hold her right there."
Now well above the trees, the model banked smoothly to the south and began a lazy circle of the field. "I did it! I did it!"
It took several seconds for Barbara Nelms to realize that the excited voice she had just heard was her son's. With a joyful fullness in her throat and tears in her eyes, she slipped back out of sight and hurried down the hill. Zack and Toby Nelms lay opposite one another on the warm grass, a few yards from the Fleet, chewing on stalks of wild barley and watching a red-tailed hawk glide in effortless loops atop high, midday thermals. "Now, just who do you suppose is working the radio-control box for that model? " Zack asked. "Whoever it is has sure built one quiet engincl "That's goofy, " Toby Nelms said. "Of course it is. Any one with half a brain could tell that's just a kite. Now, if only I could see the string…"
Once the logjam of silence-of fear and mistrust-had been broken, the boy's words had come with surprising ease, and even occasional spontaneity. Zack had been reluctant to test the progress they had made with any pointed questions, but now, with just a few minutes left in their two hours together, he felt comfortable enough to try. "You know, kiddo, " he began, "a lot of people have been very worried about you these past few months."
"I know."
"But you still won't talk to anyone?"
Toby shook his head. "Not even your parents? " The boy stared vacantly at the crucifix soaring overhead. "They never help me," he said suddenly. "I scream for them, and beg them to stop the… the man from hurting me. But they never come until it's too late. They never stop him."
"What man? " Zack asked, at once repulsed and fearful at the thought of the boy being molested. "Who's been hurting you?"
Toby turned away. "Hey, kiddo, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything to upset you or frighten you."
For a few, anxious seconds, Zack feared he had pushed too hard and slammed the door he had, so gingerly, just opened., The man with the mask, " Toby said without turning back. "Mask?"
The boy shifted restlessly, and then drew his knees and elbows in tightly to his body. Zack decided he had gone far enough for one day. He reached in his pocket for a coin. One good thumb palm and they would call it quits. "He… he cuts it off, " Toby said, in almost a whimper.
"And… and then it grows back… and then he cuts it off again."
"Cuts what off, Toby?… Look, I know it's hard for you to talk about, but you've got to try."
He moved to put his hand on the boy's shoulder, but then thought better of it. He felt his heart pounding. Don't stop now, kiddo.
Don't give Up on me now. "My… my peenie. And my balls, too."
"Do you mean he touches you?"
"No, he cuts it off. He promises he won't hurt me. He promises he'll fix my lump, a
nd then he cuts it off. And it hurts. It hurts and I scream at him, and he won't stop. And I scream for my mommy and daddy, and they never come."
The boy began to cry, his shoulders jerking spasmodically with each heavy sob. Again, Zack moved to touch him, but before he could, the child spun and flung his arms around him. "Please, Zack, " he cried softly. "Please don't let him do it anymore."
He promises he'll fix my lump… Suddenly, the child's words registered. "Toby, " Zack whispered, still holding the boy tightly, "the lump you're talking about, is it your hernia? That place here you had fixed?"
The boy nodded, his body still racked with sobs. "And the man with the mask… Is that the doctor? " Again, a nod. Zack eased him away, but continued to hold him by the shoulders. "Toby, look at me. I think you've just been having nightmares. Bad, horrible dreams, but dreams that often go away as soon as you see them for what they are. The operation was perfect. All that's left is a little scar. The lump is gone for good."
"No, " the boy said angrily. "It isn't. It grows back. So does my peenie, and my balls. But then he cuts them off again, and it hurts worse each time."
Inwardly, Zack sighed relief. The boy's profound disturbance was rooted in a nightmare-the expression of pent-up fears surrounding a procedure now nearly a year in the past. Fascinating, but certainly neither difficult to understand nor as bad a situation as he had feared. At least Brookings would have something to work with. "You don't believe me, do you? " Toby said. "It's not a dream. He cuts them off, and they grow back, and then he takes those Metzenbaums and cuts them off again."
Zack felt a sudden, vicious chill. "He takes what? " There was no hiding the incredulity in his voice. "The Metzenbaums. He asks for them from the nurse, and then he sticks them into me right here, and it kills me.
Flashback Page 17