His face lit up. “My brother told me about her—the one where the deer actually ran into her.”
Mark put his finger to his lips. “Yes, but don’t mention it. She’s a bit touchy about it.”
He kept smiling “No, I won’t.”
“I hope one of these keys works. I don’t know why she locked it.”
“City folk,” the officer said, and snorted out a laugh.
“Right,” Mark replied agreeably. “Darn city folk.”
The third key worked, and they went inside and turned on the light.
“That’s some fancy car.”
“It’s all electric. Get this, they’re trying to be the first people to circle Lake Michigan in an electric car.”
“Really? How far can it go before it needs to be charged again?”
“Over two hundred miles.”
He whistled. After walking around the whole car he said, “Obviously no stolen vehicle here, so I’ll be on my way.”
Heading back toward the front of the house, Mark asked, “So are you and your brother twins?”
“No. He’s two years older. Where did you meet him?”
“This morning at a stop sign. He brought back a guest who had gotten lost.”
“I heard about him, too. He was part of that casino tour?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“And they left this morning.”
“They left. George is still here.”
“What? Why?”
“He missed the bus.” Mark considered telling Officer Bryst about the trip to St. Ignace. But they were on the walkway, and he spotted a car parked out front, the same car Emily had been in earlier.
“So how’s he getting back?”
“Emily. The doctor, the deer-car girl. She’s dropping him off on her way back home.”
“That’s generous of her,” Bryst said. Now Mark really wanted to tell him about the St. Ignace trip. “Hopefully no other deer try to stop her.”
The both laughed.
“Have a pleasant evening,” Mark said. He hopped the steps and went inside where he found George talking a a man—the man Emily knew? His brown hair was streaked with gray, and he wore a soft brown blazer and jeans, the bottom of which pooled at his topsiders.
“Hello, can I help you?” Mark asked, approaching.
The man turned, and Mark’s image of Emily’s uncle vanished, replaced by a younger-looking man in his mid-forties. Behind the rectangular frameless glasses, his eyes scanned Mark briefly, disapprovingly.
“Are you the proprietor here?”
Mark shrugged. “More like ringmaster.”
“Sorry?”
“Yes, I am the proprietor of this establishment. What can I do for you?”
“I heard there was a medical emergency, and I was worried about my friend staying here.”
“Word sure does travel fast,” he muttered. “What friend are you referring to?”
“Dr. Davis.”
“She’s fine. It was another guest who had an issue.” Mark gestured with a wide arm toward the door.
“Do you need my help?”
“Are you a doctor or something?” Mark replied sarcastically.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Dr. Bulcher.” He stuck out his hand.
Butcher? Mark nearly fell back, punch-drunk, and it seemed for a moment the only thing holding him upright was the hand he thoughtlessly grabbed in return. “I’m Mark,” he barely got out. This didn’t make any sense.
Dr. Butcher asked a question. Mark blinked a few times and gathered himself. “What?”
“I’d like to see Dr. Davis,” he said firmly.
“She’s upstairs with another doctor.”
“Another doctor?”
“A local.” Mark laughed, derisively. “Three doctors for one narcoleptic patient who’s sound asleep. Now that’s what I call medical care.”
“Would you mind if I went up to see the patient?”
Mark shook his head. “Be my guest. Upstairs. Last room down the hall.”
“Thank you, Pastor.”
“Huh?”
Butcher started for the stairs.
“Did the police officer leave?” Yvonne asked.
It took Mark a second to answer, his mind still trying to comprehend it all. “Yes. He saw the car in the garage and then left.”
“Good,” she said softly. Nodding, she dropped her head down again. “What do I do now? How will I get back to Green Bay?”
“Hitchhike,” Mark threw out.
“No, no,” Bear Foot jumped in his seat in an obsequious way. “No, definitely not. Too far.” His voice drifted, “Maybe to Escanaba would be fine.” He shook his head. “Green Bay is too far.”
Mark winced, but Bear Foot didn’t seem to notice. Smitten, he seemed.
George got up. “I’m going to bed. It’s late.”
Mark looked at his watch. Nine o’clock. “Have a good night.”
“Good night, sir,” Yvonne said somberly. “I’m sorry about the disturbance.”
“What disturbance?” George asked.
“You’re so sweet,” she said and blew him a small kiss.
George hobbled away with a grin plastered on his face.
Mark felt giddily spent, suddenly more at ease, more in command, less inhibited, as if he’d had a few beers. He walked over to Yvonne. “So how long have you known Peter?” he asked.
“Peter? Let’s see. It’s been three days.”
“Three days!”
“Yeah, I met him at a gas station in Green Bay.”
“What?” Mark chuckled. “That’s funny.”
“What’s so funny about that? He was coming from Minneapolis.”
“No, not that you met him in Green Bay. The gas station. He drives an electric car.”
Yvonne laughed. “I guess that is kinda funny. He was using the restroom.”
“And you were getting gas?”
“No, I work there.”
“I worked at a gas station once too,” Bear Foot said.
“Oh yeah?”
Bear Foot nodded enthusiastically.
“We have a lot in common,” she said.
“Wait.” Mark sat down across from her and Bear Foot. “Let me get this straight. You met Peter at a gas station and you jumped into a car with him, on a trip around the lake?”
Yvonne shook her head. “No, of course not!”
“So you knew him from before?”
“No. I had a sign.”
“A sign? What do you mean?” Mark asked.
A slight commotion erupted upstairs. Either the doctors were arguing over Emily or Peter had woken up. Mark walked to the edge of the stairs.
“What’s going on?” Yvonne asked.
“I don’t know.”
Emily appeared at the steps a few seconds later and came down. “I need a glass of water.”
“Aren’t there any nurses up there to help with that?” Mark joked.
She responded with a steely glare. “I’ll get it myself.”
“Is he awake?” Yvonne asked.
“Yes, he’s fine.”
Emily blew by Mark.
“I sure hope so, seeing as three doctors are attending to him,” he said.
She didn’t bother reacting and continued into the kitchen.
Mark slid over and stood behind the dining room chair, staring at the kitchen door, waiting with crossed arms.
“So do you want to know the sign?” Yvonne said.
“Yes,” Bear Foot answered eagerly.
“Mark?”
He turned his head slightly toward Yvonne. “Yes, of course. Do tell us.”
“So the night before I met Peter at the gas station, I had a dream.”
Emily came out of the kitchen. “Why are you glaring at me like that?” she protested.
“I’m not,” Mark returned, shaking his head in an overdramatic denial. As she walked by, he added, “Just curious about your visitor.”
Her shoe sc
raped the floor, but she progressed without turning back to look.
Mark returned his attention to Yvonne. “Sorry. You were saying—something about a dream.”
“Yes. I had a dream that my father took me on a trip where we saw several lighthouses. So when I met Peter and found out he was going around the lake, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence.”
Mark didn’t see that as much of a sign, but he didn’t question that part. “So you asked him if you could come along, and he agreed?”
Yvonne shook her head. “No, he asked me.”
“Just out of the blue? Did he have a dream of taking a trip with your father?”
“No, not like that. When he returned the restroom key, he told me that I reminded him of his sister. He even showed me a picture.” She slapped her knee. “Sure enough, we looked a lot alike.”
“And then he asked you to come along?”
“No, not quite. I asked him if he was on vacation—I had seen his Minnesota license plate. He told me about his trip around the lake in an electric car, and I told him about my dream. Then he asked me if I wanted to come along.”
“I see,” Mark said.
“And then Bear Foot told me about his vision with your aunt and the lighthouse.”
“You were at the lighthouse?” Mark asked Yvonne.
Yvonne nodded and smiled at Bear Foot.
Mark found the entire episode absurd. Bear Foot and visions, and Yvonne getting in a car with a stranger on a days-long journey, and Vivian, in death, becoming some kind of matchmaker. But he was certainly glad to no longer be the target of frisky Yvonne.
Yvonne turned back to Mark with a slight scowl. “Why didn’t you tell us Vivian had died?”
Mark put his hand to his forehead. Embarrassed, he looked away, shrugged, and then said, “Sorry.” The day before flashed in his mind, when Emily had first arrived. She wouldn’t have stayed had he told her, he thought. And so what? She would have left and found somewhere else, maybe, and all these people would not have been in the house now. “I should have said something, but things got a bit . . ." He muttered something about misunderstandings and extenuating circumstances.
The amount of movement upstairs increased, and soon Dr. Butcher came down the steps. “I’ll be going now. Good night.”
Yvonne and Bear Foot said goodnight, but Mark did not. He followed the doctor out, glaring steadily at the back of his head.
“Have a nice trip back,” Mark shouted out.
“Thank you, Pastor,” rang out before the door slammed shut.
What? Why did . . . Then it all rushed to him. Emily and Dr. Butcher. He was the mystery man on the other end of the phone. She had meant to meet up with him. That night when Dr. Butcher asked her to watch the other doctor, she was doing it as his girlfriend, not as an intern. That’s why she felt so responsible for the death of that boy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After Peter had been settled in bed and Dr. Currant had said goodbye, Emily stopped in her bathroom to rinse her face with cold water. She was certain Mark had made the whole connection between her and John. The night Nicholas died would be cast in a new light now. Then she thought angrily, Why do I need to explain myself to him?
Only Bear Foot and Yvonne were downstairs, sitting together on the sofa, when Emily came down. Yvonne stood up. “The other doctor said Peter is fine,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.
“Yes, he is,” Emily answered. She looked around, afraid Mark would pounce on her from some corner or closet. “It looks like he stopped taking his medication for some reason. Do you know why?”
Yvonne shook her head. “No. I didn’t even know he was taking any.”
“He shouldn’t be driving, at least not until he gets back into the right sleep rhythm with his medication.”
Yvonne crossed her arms. “I’m not driving back with him.”
Emily shot a quick glance toward Bear Foot who grimaced in return. “Oh?”
“He accused me of stealing his car.”
“Peter did?”
“Yes! Can you believe that?”
Emily grunted something noncommittal then asked, “Have either one of you seen Mark?”
“I think he went down to the basement,” Bear Foot said.
Emily nodded and headed through the kitchen. She took a deep breath as she reached the steps going down. “Mark?” she called out.
“Yes?”
“Can I come down?”
“Sure.”
With a long sigh, she descended at a deliberate pace, trying to figure out how to explain it. She found Mark in the large room sitting on the couch reading Vivian’s story.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi,” he returned flatly. He set the book down on his lap.
“You look different with glasses.”
“Clark Kent.” He flung his glasses off. “Superman.”
“Not exactly what I was thinking, but I’m glad you have a healthy view of yourself.”
Mark grinned.
She sat down next to him. “Wow, it’s been a crazy day,” she said patting her thighs.
“Yeah, crazy.”
“Yeah.”
He twirled his glasses. “Everything okay with Peter now?”
“I think so, yes.”
“You and that other doctor were with him for quite a while, even after Dr. Bulcher left.”
Hearing him saying John’s name properly jarred her. “Oh,” she said, turning away. “Yes, well, we were trying to figure out what happened. Seems he stopped taking his meds for some reason.”
“I see.”
“About Dr. Bulcher . . ."
Mark let out a low snort. He folded his glasses. “I have to admit, I did not see that coming. But now I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“All of it, between you and him.”
Emily felt her face burn. She took in a long breath. “Well that’s private, and it surely has nothing to do with you.”
“Of course not.”
“Are you mad at me? Because I can’t see why. If anyone has a right to be mad—”
“Who said I was mad? Do I sound mad?” Mark asked.
“No. But you seem, I don’t know, distant or put off, like I’ve insulted you in some way.”
“Nope. I only said things make more sense now. That’s all.”
“Like what?”
“Like why you feel the way you do about what happened that night at the hospital.”
She bristled. “You don’t know.” She turned and started walking away. “Maybe I should find another place to stay.”
“Why don’t you just go and stay with Butcher?”
She stopped and spun around. “Maybe I will! This isn’t a real B&B anyway.”
“You’re right,” he yelled back. “And I should never have let anyone stay.”
Emily ran up the stairs, and as she reached the top, he shouted, “And now I’m running an infirmary too.”
In the kitchen she wiped her face with her hand and then, after composing herself, she came out, expecting to see Bear Foot and Yvonne in the living room. But they were gone.
As she reached the top of the stairs she heard a noise. She continued down the hall, worried that Peter had gotten up and was disoriented. Rather it was Bear Foot standing in the hall next to Peter’s room as if he were keeping watch. Then Yvonne came out dragging a suitcase. Emily slipped into her room.
Falling on her bed, she stuffed her head in the pillow and cried softly for a minute, overwhelmed by her day. Mark. Vivian. Sarajevo. Vivian was dead. How could that be? Fate cruel to deer. Really, jerk? I could have met my hero, and instead I got her screwball nephew.
She thought about Peter and Yvonne driving around the lake. He could have gone cataplectic at any time and crashed into a tree or another car. Or hit a bus full of seniors touring the UP!
She thought about George. How could they leave without him? Poor George. Traveling by himself, a widower with Alzheimer’s who s
ometimes thinks his wife is still alive. What will happen to him once he’s back on the tour?
She couldn’t believe that John had come all this way to find her. It wasn’t just a silly fling with an intern. He obviously felt something strong for her, following her to Manistique, getting on the board of Lincoln Presbyterian. She was flattered, but she was also terrified. If she broke it off with him, could he make life miserable for her during residency?
And then Dr. Currant. Kind. Patient. Juxtaposed with John, Currant was easier, more comfortable with himself. She liked him. We’re always looking for talented, young doctors played on a continuous loop as she drifted into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Despite my rant with Marie, I couldn’t stay long after the two new doctors arrived. And they’d land in Sarajevo in less than a week. Getting Emela out of the orphanage was my mission now. But how? And to where? I didn’t exactly know.
It turned out that Emela was not a common name, so I felt fairly certain the girl in the orphanage was the right one. But I needed to confirm that she was in fact the same Emela. Thank God for Eva. She found out the dead woman’s name and even drove to her house and canvassed the neighborhood for information. She learned that her only relative, a cousin of the woman, had left with his family for Croatia at the start of the siege.
With no new word from Phil’s State Department contact, I grew impatient and hatched a plan of my own: Getting a car ride out of Sarajevo and taking Emela with me to her relatives in Croatia. Who knew if it would really work, but I followed the contact instructions given to me by Ratko, the driver.
Two days later, in the evening, I got word that Ratko would be at the back door at exactly seven o’clock the following morning. I was prepared for this quick exit. I had told the hospital staff that new doctors were arriving, and that I would be leaving soon. In the dining hall, I said goodbye to my friends. They all thought I was taking a UN flight in the morning. Except Eva. I told her the truth, just in case something happened, so at least one person would know. Of course she tried convincing me not to do it.
When I opened the back door at seven o’clock, Ratko was pulling up. He got out of the car with a smile. “Time to leave beautiful Sarajevo, heh?”
I nodded. “Sort of.” He helped me with my bags.
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