Flashback

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Flashback Page 41

by Michael Palmer


  "Bless you, Henry, " Zack rasped, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

  "Now, just stay put. I'll be back."

  "Stay put, " Zack echoed. He waited until the surgeon had left and then reached over for Suzanne's hand. She inched her chair closer to him.

  "Sorry I can't get up, " she said. "I get dizzy when I try."

  "Why don't you go back to bed. We'll talk later."

  "You okay?"

  "I feel like shit, if you want to know the truth. But I'm okay. Fucking Frank nearly killed us both."

  "Almost. But it's over now, Zack."

  "What time is it, anyway?"

  "Two. Almost two."

  "Damn."

  "What is it?"

  "The board meeting… Do you know what happened there?"

  She squeezed his hand. "I think your father wants to talk to you about that. I'll see you after your test."

  "Sure. Meanwhile, stay away from the radio."

  Suzanne smiled. "Not to worry, " she said. "Sooner or later, though, I'm going to have to, um, face the music."

  She motioned to Bernice Rimmer, who brought a wheelchair over, took her IV pole and wheeled her from the room. Moments later, the Judge appeared at Zack's bedside. "You were right about my legs, " he said. "I'm glad."

  "Zachary, don't feel bad about Frank."

  "I do. Judge, he hurt a lot of people. He's very sick."

  "I know. He stole a great deal of money from the hospital.

  Apparently this business with Jack Pearl and that Mainwaring was an attempt to replace it."

  "Lord."

  "I found out about it for sure yesterday, but I've suspected he was in trouble for some time. Frank never could put anything over on me. I I just don't know where he could have gone so wrong." Try at birth, Zack wanted to say. He looked at the bewilderment in his father's face, and knew that there was no percentage in responding. "Judge, the board meeting, " he said. "Did you go?"

  "I went. They had already voted to sell out, but I had just enough time to turn things around. After the vote Frank had the temerity to ask me if we might keep him on as administrator. Much as it hurt me, I told him absolutely not."

  "Great, " Zack said with no enthusiasm. "He should have known better than to try and hide the truth from me. He was always trying. He never could. I have no tolerance for his kind of deceit. No tolerance at all."

  He sighed. "I had such hopes for him. I gave your brother every chance, Zachary. Every chance. You know that, don't you?"

  Zack closed his eyes, and instantly he was on the slalom run, tumbling over and over again down the snqwy mountainside, his knee screaming with pain. The accident had eliminated him from competitive sports and, it seemed, from much of his father's interest as well. At the time it was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Now, he could see, it well might have been his salvation. "Of course you did, Judge, " he said, looking away. "Of course you did."

  EPILOGUE

  As if they could quantitate a miracle leaf by leaf, the meteorologists had proclaimed October 10 the peak day of the foliage season in north central New Hampshire. And in fact, as the day-a Wednesday-evolved, with acre upon acre of crimson, orange, burgundy, and gold sparkling beneath a cloudless, azure sky, not even those old-timers who always had a different opinion of such things could argue. In the small, atriumlike auditorium of the Holiday Inn of Sterling, sunlight streamed through glass panels, bathing the hundred or so hospital officials, board members, and physicians in a warmth that made the northern New England winter seem still remote. Throughout the hall, there was an air of excitement and history. They had come together from communities across the northern part of the state, and had met for three days around conference tables and in back rooms, hammering out the framework of a new consortium of hospitals. Now, in minutes, the fruits of those efforts would be presented to the gathering, and a new era in community medicine would begin. The hospitals involved-seven in all-would be banded together in a way that would give them enormous purchasing power without the sacrifice of one bit of autonomy. Judge Clayton Iverson, his wife at his side, wandered about the milling crowd, exchanging greetings and handshakes with the other attendees, most of whom knew that he was about to be announced as the first chairman of the board of the consortium. His selection for the post had been virtually unanimous. The search committee had established experience and absolute integrity as the prime qualifications for the post, and through his handling of the Davis Regional-Ultramed disaster, the Judge had proven himself amply endowed with both. Most impressive to the group had been the Judge's refusal to intervene in the trial and sentencing of his son Frank on myriad charges ranging from co-conspiracy in testing the unauthorized drug, Serenyl, to assault with intent to murder. Then there was his handling of the surgeon, Jason Mainwaring. After demanding and obtaining the surrender of Mainwaring's medical license, the Judge had gotten the charges against the man diminished in exchange for the liquidation of his pharmaceutical company, from the proceeds a fund would be set up to aid those patients found to have been harmfully affected by the anesthe ic. And finally, there was the leadership role he had played in the reclamation of Davis Regional Hospital from Ultramed. Not only had the Judge supervised the transition back to community control, but, dissatisfied with the amount raised from the sale of Mainwaring's beleaguered drug firm, he had convinced the Ultramed directors of the sagacity of augmenting the Serenyl settlement fund with a multimilliondollar contribution of their own. Though he was constantly smiling, and seemed relaxed, in between handshakes the Judge continued to glance toward the doors at the rear of the hall. "Do you see him?"

  Cinnie asked. "No. You did speak to his girlfriend, didn't you?"

  "Yes, dear, I did. I told her you had been selected, and asked her to try and convince Zachary to be here for the announcement."

  ", A. nd?"

  "And she said she'd try, but that she doubted he would come."

  She drew him off to one side, away from the crowd. "Clayton, please," she said. "There's still time. Please reconsider this, and let's go to Florida. Just for the winter."

  "No."

  "But why?

  Lisette has moved away with the girls, and Zachary almost never comes by anymore, We haven't had a Sunday dinner in I don't know how long. We have friends down there. I… Clayton, I don't want to spend another winter here. Please."

  "Absolutely not. Zachary will come around. You'll see."

  "I don't know. He's been so distant since that terrible business with Frank. I ask him why almost evc-ry time we speak, and all he ever says is that there are things he has to work out. He says he's not even sure yet that he's going to stay in Sterling."

  "Oh, he'll stay. He's moved in with that Suzanne. Does that sound like he's planning to leave?"

  "No, " she said. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

  "Take your seats, everybody. Please take your seats, " the conference chairperson announced, tapping on her microphone. "This is what you've all been waiting for."

  "He'll be here, Cynthia, " the Judge said. "You'll see. His brother never appreciated the things I did for him, but in the end, Zachary will. He'll be here to share this."

  "Clayton, please…"

  "No. And not another word about it."

  "Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to officially announce the birth of the Northern New Hampshire Community Hospital Consortium."

  There was a burst of applause. Again, the Judge turned toward the rear doors. "Face it, Clayton, " Cinnie said. "He's not coming."

  "Damn him, " Clayton muttered. "The ungrateful… Damn them both."

  "… And as our first order of business, I would like to introduce to you the man chosen by our search committee to head our new consortium.

  He is a man of accomplishment and integrity, a man known to many in this room for his tireless work on behalf of his community and his hospital.

  He is a devoted man, dedicated uncompromisingly to the principles of fairness… Six
miles south of the Holiday Inn, resting on the deserted field known as the Meadows, the engine of a crimson model plane screeched to life. A young boy raced across the golden autumn grass, hand in hand with a young girl. "Jennifer wants to learn, Zack, " he said, clutching the radio control box. "Can I show her? All by myself.

  Can I show her how to fly it?"

  "How about another quick coin trick first?"

  "Oh, no-I mean, how about later on? Zack, she really wants to learn."

  Zack leaned back on his elbows and breathe in the fragrant mountain air.

  Then he turned to Suzanne and brushed his lips against her ear. "I think the kid's got a crush on your daughter, " he whispered. "So it would seem, " she replied. "Toby, do you have a license to fly that thing?"

  "A what?"

  "Nothing, nothing."

  "Can I, Zack? " the boy asked again. "Sure, kiddo, " Zack said. "Of course you can."

  With Jennifer Cole watching intently, Toby Nelms eased back on the tiny control stick. Instantly, the Fleet shot forward, across the field and up into the perfect noonday sky.

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