Barely Above Water

by Pallotta, Gail;

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  Suzie’s voice rang with an upbeat tone Matt hadn’t heard before. If it brought her that much joy, he could endure it. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at five thirty Sunday morning.”

  They hung up, and he put his head in his hands. “Women.” Now he’d done it.

  * * *

  Suzie’s head ached. Yet, for the first time in a long while, so much happiness swelled inside her it had a chance of spilling over to someone else. She’d spread it to the kids.

  Matt had been so supportive. Unlike Carson, he seemed to respect her opinion. He did look puzzled when she told him she’d speak to Lloyd Sparks. She smiled to herself.

  A bit of celebrity sleuthing. It’d been six months since she landed the interview with George Noble, the president of the largest beef packaging company in the country. Who knew his mother grew up in Blue Mountain? Not many people until she told them. That gave her kudos with her boss at the Western Insider magazine. Then, she got sick. She grew weak thinking of the helplessness the disease had thrust on her, but she had to turn this illness over to the Lord and Dr. Granger’s expertise.

  She slanted the cream-colored blinds of her spare bedroom down on the window beside the table she used as a desk and sunshine poured onto her computer. She dropped down into the chair and searched the Internet for Lloyd Sparks.

  No agent listed. She put in the name of his recording label and accessed agents associated with that company one by one. Finally, Lloyd Sparks’s name appeared with the Ralph Jones Agency. She quivered. What if she’d lost her public relations ability and Ralph Jones wouldn’t talk to her? She’d lost everything else from her past.

  She rubbed her palms together then picked up her cell and punched in the number. “May I speak with Ralph Jones please?”

  “Mr. Jones isn’t available.”

  “I see, Miss, uh? What was your name?”

  “Judy Newport.”

  Suzie swiped her forehead as though it would relieve her headache. “All right, thank you.”

  She hung up then twisted the top off a bottle of water and gulped down several swallows. Getting a press kit—easy. Those few personal questions that would sell the story—another matter.

  Her head throbbed. Couldn’t she do anything without this disease interrupting? She sat back in her chair, trying to ease the pain. Then she phoned the agency.

  “Ralph Jones’s office.”

  “Hi, Judy.”

  “Hi.” Judy’s voice sounded questioning, probably wondering how Suzie knew her name.

  “This is Suzie Morris. I’m with The Sun Dial newspaper in Destin, Florida. I’ll cover an appearance for one of your clients, Lloyd Sparks. He’s headlining here at Beside the Bay.”

  “Oh yes, what’s your address? I’ll send a press kit.”

  “Great. I appreciate that.” Suzie gave her the information. “Destin is known as the world’s luckiest fishing village. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Sparks fishes. Would you ask him a few questions about that for me? I’m more than glad to call back for his answers.”

  “He’s in our office today. Hold on.” Silence. “Miss Morris. I’m connecting you.”

  Yes.

  “Lloyd Sparks here.”

  “Hi, Mr. Sparks. This is Suzie Morris with The Sun Dial newspaper in Destin, Florida. We’re looking forward to your visit. Since we’re known as the world’s luckiest fishing village, I wondered if you like fish. If you do, what kind do you prefer?”

  “You can say I love grouper. I understand fishermen in Destin catch a lot of them.”

  “Yes sir, they do. How about you? Do you enjoy the sport?”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m an avid fisherman, but yeah, I’ve been.”

  “Do you mind telling me what you caught?”

  He chuckled. “When I visited Hawaii, I snagged a marlin that weighed thirty-five pounds.”

  “Congratulations! If you don’t mind, I’m going to include that in my article.”

  “Not a bit. When Judy sends the press kit, she’ll throw in a couple backstage passes.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sparks. I look forward to meeting you.”

  Mr. Sparks routed her to Judy and they hung up.

  Suzie lay back on the sofa and rubbed her temples. San Destin covered. Now she needed a story from Fort Walton Beach. Her stomach growled. Would food relieve her pounding headache?

  A big smile bubbled inside as she went to the kitchen, pulled out two hotdogs, and dropped them in the pan. Much easier than last time, thanks to Matt.

  In twenty minutes, the smell of frankfurters and mustard permeated the room. She chomped into a hotdog on the way to the glass dining table then sat down and devoured her meal. The pain eased up, but no story ideas for Fort Walton Beach popped in her head.

  Maybe there was something on the Internet. She jumped up, scraped her plate, and placed it in the dishwasher. Grinding and clanging from the noisy appliance followed her up the steps until she traipsed into the spare bedroom, shut the door, and plunked down at the computer.

  She typed in the name of the little town and a bright page popped up with a couple of speakers’ names on it. No doubt the newspaper had press releases about them. She clicked several keys and leaned closer to the screen. A pirate’s festival. That looked like fun, but there probably were more announcements about it than loot in the pirate’s bounty. Nothing seemed right. She turned off the computer and leaned back in her seat.

  The last few days of school, parents watched their kids participate in field day, hosted parties, and attended graduation. A piece about these year-end activities would interest lots of people. Mulling over the topic, she tapped her pencil on the top of the table. She liked it. She’d look into it further tomorrow.

  She stepped into the shower then snuggled into bed and laid her aching head on the pillow. She dozed off, but her eyes snapped open as the weakness swept over her, sapping her energy like a sponge absorbing water.

  The headache was gone, but her heart sank at the torture wiping out peace in the night. She pulled her knees to her chest and shook while her insides raced. Please stop. Please stop. I’m so tired. Help. God, please help. The symptoms subsided, but she lay with her eyes wide open, tossing and turning until the bed seemed to turn to cement.

  She swung her legs over the side and eased her feet onto the floor. Forcing herself to move, she plodded downstairs. Night covered the windows like a dark curtain. The air conditioner no longer ran, but coolness lingered in the room. She shivered as she sat on the navy sofa with tears running down her cheeks until four o’clock. Only the occasional whiz of the security guard’s motorized cart, crickets chirping, and the ocean lapping ashore broke the silence of the sleeping world.

  Her body begged for rest, so she trudged upstairs to the bed and slipped under the covers as though that meant she’d zonk out until the alarm woke her. Sleep overtook her. Then the weakness, racing, and shaking jolted her like a hurricane hitting shore. This time of day, work called.

  She dragged herself from the bed, stood, and veered to the left when she headed to the bathroom. No matter how hard she tried to walk straight, she staggered. She stumbled to the sink and washed her face in cold water. It was swollen and red as a tomato.

  Tears welled up and wet her eyelashes. Why was her skin discolored? What would people think? Nausea hit her in the gut. How could she face anyone looking so ugly? She could only hope everyone who came near her associated the redness with a sunburn.

  Determined to move in a straight line, she put one foot on a beige tile then the other on a square in front of it and repeated the process until she reached the carpet. She took normal steps by the time she entered the bedroom and refreshing energy pulsed through her veins for the first time in months. What was happening?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The next afternoon Suzie sat in Dr. Granger’s lobby. Courtney worked behind the tall white counter on the computer, the keys clicking.

  A woman wearin
g jeans and a yellow t-shirt entered, a breeze coming through the doorway with her. She plopped down on the sofa next to Suzie. Across from them, a computer screen flashed up pictures of potatoes, cookies, and cake. In a smooth, sweet voice, a narrator said, “Carbohydrates turn to sugar in our bodies, then they are stored as fat.”

  What irritating words, but Suzie couldn’t eat many carbs anyway. She let her gaze fall on the sign that read, “Be still and know that I am God.” God hadn’t deserted her. Or had He?

  Margaret entered, her strawberry blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with curly tendrils hanging beside her cheeks. “Hi Suzie, you can come back.”

  Suzie followed Margaret to a room with three plush chairs on platforms above large utility sinks. A brown laminate bookcase along one wall held several books and a computer screen with an image of birds in flight. As soon as they flew by, a picture of an ocean washing ashore on a sandy beach appeared, then a waterfall cascading down a lush green mountain.

  “We’ll start footbaths today. We want you to see Dr. Granger twice a week and have one each visit. We’ll remove this foreign substance.” Margaret’s strong-as-steel voice encouraged Suzie.

  “So far, I can’t tell much difference. I slept an hour or two longer than usual last night, but then I staggered when I got out of bed.” Suzie stepped up to a raised area in front of a basin and sank into an armchair. “And of course, my face is red, but you couldn’t miss that.” Suzie tried to sound matter-of-fact and let the gratitude for Margaret’s help tender the disgust rushing through her veins over having this disease.

  “You’re throwing off toxins. The discoloration will go away. In the meantime, pick up a redness treatment powder, or since you’re coaching, you might try the perfecting lotion. They’re available at the cosmetics store at the mall.” Margaret spoke as though a tomato-face was normal.

  Hardly, as far as Suzie was concerned. Nonetheless, thankfulness that she could camouflage the blight rippled through her. “I appreciate your telling me about the products.”

  Margaret waved her hand. “The flushing isn’t noticeable, but be sure to let Dr. Granger know about the staggering.”

  Not noticeable? Yeah, sure. “All right.”

  Margaret turned on a spigot and water swooshed into the large basin. “The footbath uses an energy current similar to that of our bodies as it creates an ionic field to help restore the red blood cells’ polarity, or polar separation.”

  What in the world was she talking about? “How does it do that?”

  “By adding negative ions to our positive ones. It generates a positive charge on the inside of the cell and a negative one on the outside.”

  Suzie got that.

  “This keeps them from sticking together in stacks or clumps, which could slow or block your blood flow. Single, un-stacked red blood cells are more efficient carriers of oxygen, electricity, and nutrients. They also assist in transporting toxins out of the body.”

  Yes. Please get them out.

  Margaret held up a small cylinder with slits and a cord at one end. The device was attached to a bronze box next to the sink. “You’ll see colors coming from the array as the water circulates through it. Some of the tints are a chemical reaction. Lots of our first-time patients think the toxins are expelled immediately, but usually, the body deals with them later. They’re eliminated in four ways: through the skin, as you’re experiencing, the mouth, the colon, and the kidneys.”

  The strangeness of the procedure played in Suzie’s head as though she walked into an unfamiliar room in the dark, but she’d do anything legal and moral to get well. She removed her flip-flops and slowly stuck her feet in the water. “Does this hurt?”

  “No. During the footbath, you only feel water on your feet. When some people cast off toxins, they don’t even notice it. Others may become a little lethargic. Some might sweat, grow warm, or visit the bathroom a lot.”

  Suzie peered at the contraption. Maybe she’d not notice—probably too much to ask. “I can’t get rid of them soon enough.”

  Margaret placed the array in the sink and set a timer. “Relax, listen to the music, or read.” She pointed to books on the table beside Suzie.

  “Thank you.” Suzie smiled and nodded.

  However, as soon as Margaret left, Suzie stared at the water. A white color bubbled around the edges of the array. The liquid slowly changed tints then turned yucky brown. A chemical reaction, huh? Looked pretty nasty.

  Margaret entered. “Just a few more minutes.” She glanced at Suzie’s footbath. “You’re not removing many toxins. Hopefully, you will soon.”

  Suzie sat straight up, surprise shooting up her spine like an arrow. “What will the water look like then?”

  “It’ll be darker, a shade that tells us you’ve recovered enough to throw off the bad stuff. Then, when your body’s ready, it will do that. Usually, it occurs at night while you’re sleeping but not always.”

  The timer buzzed.

  “You’re all finished.” Margaret let the water out of the sink then sprayed clean, clear water over Suzie’s feet and ankles and handed her a towel.

  Suzie dried her feet and slipped on her flip-flops. Could this peculiar washing really pull sickness from her?

  Margaret led her to her office, sunshine streaming through the window on the biofeedback machine. “Are you following the carbohydrate diet we gave you?” Margaret asked as Suzie climbed onto the examining table.

  “Yes.” She only wished she wasn’t.

  “Good.” She handed Suzie one of the supplements she couldn’t tolerate. “Lie down if you want.”

  Suzie lay down and held a bottle against her chest while Margaret directed the laser toward it. The red beam penetrated it, but the ray didn’t affect Suzie. But for the light, the treatment would have seemed non-existent.

  Margaret removed that tincture and repeated the action until she’d gone through five vials. Suzie sat up and dangled her feet over the side.

  “You should feel better soon. I remember you weren’t able to eat many foods. Name something you’d enjoy that you can’t have.”

  Visions of chocolate éclairs swirled in Suzie’s head. “I guess you mean a vegetable or meat, not sweets.” It didn’t hurt to ask.

  Margaret chuckled. “Right.”

  Would desensitizing really work? “Most restaurants serve salads.” If she could add those to her diet, she probably could go out with anyone anywhere and not appear weird as though she didn’t enjoy a good meal. “Lettuce.”

  Margaret meandered to a pine table, ran her hand over a white box with tiny compartments and picked up a clear container. “Hold this and we’ll begin.”

  Suzie extended her arm while Margaret muscle-tested by pressing down as Suzie pushed up as hard as she could. No matter how much Suzie tried she couldn’t keep her arm up. “Does this mean I’m weaker?”

  Margaret’s eyebrows shot up. “No. It means you’re allergic to lettuce, but I’m going to fix that.”

  She never had a problem with the leafy vegetable until she contracted this hideous malady. It wreaked havoc on every aspect of her life. She kept the small bottle against her as Margaret re-directed the energy flow with a laser. During the next muscle test, Suzie’s arm stayed up. Suzie gaped as disbelief ran through every bone in her body.

  Margaret smiled. “There ya go.” She returned the lettuce desensitizer. “Start by mixing your own dressing, oil and a little lemon juice. Eventually, we want you to eat anything you’d like. Why don’t you nibble some of a food you haven’t tasted in a while between now and Monday. See what happens?”

  Margaret was asking a lot. What happened wasn’t pleasant. But...Suzie had to help herself. At least with Dr. Granger taking care of her, she could try something other than bison products, sweet potatoes, and broccoli without fear of the consequences coming at her like a raging bull. “Okay.”

  Margaret escorted Suzie out and knocked on Dr. Granger’s half-opened door. He sat at a walnut table and tapped compute
r keys.

  “Did you need to see Suzie?”

  He quit typing. “No, but I’m happy she stopped by.” He directed his gaze at Suzie. “I like your blue shirt.”

  Dr. Granger was so kind. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have questions for me?”

  “Yes. This morning when I got up, I staggered for a while. It made me wonder if I’m getting worse.”

  Dr. Granger’s lips turned up on the corners. “You’re getting better. Your body made an adjustment. I doubt it will happen again, but if it does, we’ll recommend a supplement to help with the symptoms of the correction.”

  How could she tell the cure from the disease?

  “Is there anything else?” Dr. Granger’s eye-to-eye straight-forward gaze told Suzie he had no idea she was confused.

  “No. That’s all.”

  “I’ll take you up front,” Margaret said.

  Better? Body making an adjustment? The conflict and healing phases. Dr. Granger’s words about the body making a correction rang in her head like a melody as Margaret showed her to the receptionist desk.

  Five people waited in the lobby, and the phone rang as Courtney filled small brown bags with bottles of tinctures, herbs, and vitamins. A man with gray hair picked up one and paid.

  “Courtney will schedule you for Monday. I’ll see you then.” Margaret stepped away.

  Suzie would’ve bet her best bathing suit that staggering meant she was getting worse. However, she’d been refreshed like a watered wilted flower immediately after she stumbled around. What a strange phenomenon.

  Since she’d seen Dr. Granger, on some days, energy zipped through her and shades of the life she once knew fell over her. Other days, vitality leaked from her like air from a balloon, and she had to force herself to put one foot in front of the other. She never knew until she got out of bed and had time to recover from her morning wake up which sort of day it would be. She treasured the progress and encouragement she received from this office and hoped for good health to return, even though the process was slow and an enigma.