Barely Above Water

by Pallotta, Gail;

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Suddenly the starlit night lost its luster. Suzie grew as cold as ice while standing in the soft, warm breeze. Crowds of people walked about the parking lot in front of the restaurant by the sea, and she was so alone. Her heart thumped against her chest as she waited for Matt to say something. He isn’t Carson. He isn’t Carson.

  He stopped dead in his tracks. “An illness doesn’t change how I feel about you, but of course, I want to know what it is.”

  Pent-up tears gushed like water spewing from a fountain. Relief that Matt knew about the malady and the reassurance he still cared raced through her entire being. “So would I.”

  He wiped her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t cry.” Sympathy filled his voice. “What does the doctor say?”

  “It’s not contagious. Don’t worry about that. The medical doctor said he didn’t know what it was, so he couldn’t treat it.” Now the words flowed. “That’s why I came to Destin. I’m seeing an alternative doctor. He calls it a toxic substance but hasn’t put a label on it.”

  Matt let go of her hand and stepped back. “That’s why you gave up your job as a magazine editor and moved.” He lowered his voice as though he meant to only think the words.

  “Yes. It was a good decision. The treatments are helping.”

  Was she kidding herself? Her reactions to toxins leaving the body sometimes made her ache as though she had the flu and tiredness swooshed through every bone in her body. Some mornings after the initial jolt from the racing inside and shaking, she drooped like an un-watered flower and exhaustion overtook her.

  No, it was true. Vitality seeped into her body on some days. Then, she went about her daily routine with stamina the way she used to. Each bout of detoxing brought strength afterward. She racked her brain to give Matt a valid progress report, but what should she say? That she experienced energy in intermittent shots as though the treatments zapped the disease then the malady reared its ugly head again. Would he understand? Even she had difficulty separating the disease and the healing phase. Yet she’d not deny progress. She could tell Matt the weakness sweeping over her and the horrid indigestion appeared to be gone. Did he want to know that?

  “This illness won’t interfere with your ability to coach and run the meets, I hope.”

  Suzie couldn’t breathe. His words resounded in her head as though they flowed from a loudspeaker. He only cared about the job. “No. Of course not.” She wouldn’t dare tell him she had staggered. She’d only done that once, and Dr. Granger had said that was because her body had made an adjustment. He couldn’t know about the head rushes or the dizziness. They weren’t keeping her from being a good coach. Her job hung by a thin thread. Her stomach knotted. It was all she could do not to double over.

  “What exactly are your symptoms?”

  Why did she open her heart to Matt and confide in him? When would she get it through her head? She was alone. There was no one to trust, no one to care. She wasn’t prepared for an interrogation. Trying to think her way out of this conversation was like navigating a maze. “I have trouble eating certain types of food.”

  “Do you have allergies?”

  She had had lots of them caused by the toxic substance and hadn’t recovered from all of them yet. “Yes.”

  “Maybe the doctor here can help, and you’ll be well soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Have you researched your health problems on the Internet? What does it say?”

  “No.” If there were additional problems associated with this disease, she didn’t want to read about them and dread their onset. She’d deal with them as they occurred.

  “It’s a good source of information. Might help.” Matt helped her into the passenger’s seat of his car then slipped into the driver’s side.

  She didn’t reply, and he said no more. The silence screamed at her as he drove her home. The soft lighting in the parking lot at her apartment complex seemed to shine from another planet as he eased into a parking place, cut the engine, and stepped out.

  He accompanied her to the door but without touching her. His steps echoed in her heart like soldiers marching to harm her. The shaking rumbled in her gut. It wouldn’t be long until it spread to her hands.

  They reached the stoop, and Matt stopped in his tracks. “I’m glad you could make it for dinner. I enjoyed it.”

  Polite…yes…caring…no. “Thank you...” She meant to add “for inviting me,“ but barely got out two words amid the tears building inside, choking her.

  He turned around in such a hurry that he created a breeze behind her as she opened the door. Carson all over again. She trudged up the beige carpeted steps. Why did she have this dreaded illness? It was ruining her life. Sobbing, she fell onto the blue and white comforter and beat her pillow as the trembling overtook her. No one would ever want to date someone who had a weird, untreatable malady.

  * * *

  Matt’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath ragged. He stomped the pavement on the way to his car then punched his fist into the hood. “Ouch.” He turned his hand up and examined it underneath the pale light of a lamppost near Suzie’s apartment. No blood. His head throbbed as though someone struck it with a baseball bat. Then he grew dizzy. What was happening?

  Life hurt, but hey, he’d shrug it off. He couldn’t let one girl get to him. What was it about her anyway? He’d had other broken relationships, and he hadn’t even dated Suzie that many times. He slid in the car, backed out, and burned rubber as he merged onto a deserted Highway 98. Of course, a healthy Suzie was too good to be true. Nothing ever worked out for him.

  Lights from the shops and restaurants lining the highway washed across the black road. Blue and red filled his rearview mirror. Was he that angry? No. It was a cop’s flashing strobe. A great way to rack up points for future promotions at work.

  A queasy feeling erupted in his gut as he pulled into a parking lot lit with one spotlight beaming from Community Health Foods. A man marched out of the entrance.

  In moments, a tall, lanky officer with stern, dark eyes glared at Matt.

  The guy from Community Health Foods strolled to the cop. They looked so much alike they could have been twins. “George, why do you always pull people over in front of my store? It’s not good for business.”

  “You’re ready to close, for crying out loud,” the cop snapped at the man then turned his cold, harsh stare at Matt. “Son, did you know you were going twenty miles per hour over the speed limit?”

  Matt lowered his head. “No sir, I didn’t realize it. I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  Light beams from the policeman’s flashlight hit Matt’s face, and the officer locked his gaze on Matt like a bird dog that had found its prey. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  The man who’d come out of the store poked his head close to the window. “You didn’t know how fast you were driving?”

  “No.”

  The policeman put his hand on his hip. “Tom, if you don’t get outta here, I’m going to arrest you.”

  “No, you’re not. Hear the poor guy out. He looks upset.”

  “All right.” The cop focused on Matt. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Tom bent down and peered in the window. “Hey, are you Matt Combs?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You look just like your old man.” Tom shifted his weight. “I’m Tom Dorchester, by the way.” He tapped the cop on the shoulder. “This is George, my twin brother.”

  Matt couldn’t imagine where this conversation was going. “Nice to meet you both.”

  “We went to high school with your dad in Fort Walton Beach, but I hardly knew him. During those years, he kept to himself.” Tom’s eyes softened. “After we graduated, I was home from college because I’d run out of money. I’d interviewed for every job I could find and had no hope of employment. Quitting school seemed my only option.”

  The policeman glared at his brother, but he didn’t interrupt while Tom talked
to Matt.

  Matt’s dad hadn’t been the kind of man to go out of his way for anyone. Matt’s left eye twitched. Did he know enough about his dad to discuss him?

  A longshoreman for ten years, his dad had quit the job to run The Fresh Fish Market. He sold fishermen’s catches right off the docks, kept their books, and wrote checks at the end of the month. How could he have found a job for anyone?

  “Your dad gave me the name of a fisherman who needed a temporary hand on his boat. I earned enough money to pay my bills and finish my last semester at Florida State.” Tom peered at Officer Dorchester’s paperwork.

  The policeman smirked. “That’s sweet.”

  Tom waved him off and turned toward Matt. “Why were you so preoccupied you didn’t know you were driving seventy-five in a fifty-five-mile-per-hour zone?”

  Matt was honest. The truth never had failed him. “I found out a girl I dated has a mysterious illness. I really cared about her, but I can’t deal with sickness.” Tears rumbled inside Matt. “My mother supported me every way she could. Used to smooth things over between Dad and me when I stayed out too late, or if he claimed I didn’t work hard enough. She got cancer.” Matt put his head in his hands to keep Tom and George from seeing his eyes mist over. “I can’t go through anything like that again.”

  Tom patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to. God knows what the girl has. He can take care of it. Turn it over to him.”

  His words fell on Matt like rocks. Did people simply say, “All right, God, take care of this for me,” and God did it? He hadn’t seen much help from above for his mother or himself. Did God have something against him? “How do I do that?”

  “Faith, son, faith. Don’t you have faith?” An accusing look filled Tom’s eyes.

  Matt dared not say no. “I once did.”

  “What happened?”

  “God let me tear a ligament and that injury ruined my life.”

  “Nuh-uh-uh. No. I don’t know how you ended up hurt, but you have to realize, we live in an imperfect world with good and evil. You should ask God to straighten out the problem your infirmity caused.”

  When it happened, he’d asked God, hadn’t he? Maybe not. The whole thing had been so upsetting with all the hullabaloo going on in the family and with Lucy. “It’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “That’s what Suzie said.”

  “Suzie, huh?” Tom winked. “Son, are you familiar with Romans 8:28?”

  Matt sat silent.

  “Well, never mind. It tells us God works for the good of all who love him. All good comes from Him. All bad comes from”—Tom bit his lip—“well, you know where.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tom glared at Officer Dorchester. “Can’t you give this guy a break?”

  Officer Dorchester stared at Matt as though he tried to see through Matt’s eyes into his heart. Finally, he sighed. “Stay right there. Don’t move a muscle.”

  “Yes sir.” Was the cop going to let him go?

  Matt sat as still as a statue, and Tom patted his foot while Officer Dorchester returned to his police car. Was Tom aggravated about his brother pulling Matt over? Or was he stewing because he found out Matt didn’t have enough faith?

  Officer Dorchester came back and started writing. “You have no priors, so I’ll let you off with a warning.”

  Tom raised his hand and pointed his finger. “There’s something else.”

  George looked at Tom with impatient eyes. “What?”

  “He has to promise to go to the beach service every Sunday for two months. Our meeting was more than a coincidence.”

  Tom turned away from George and locked steady eyes with Matt. “There’s a reason you’re getting a warning instead of a ticket. You owe me.”

  Matt smacked his forehead. The beach service. He was supposed to take Suzie to that.

  Tom stuck out his hand. “Shake on it.”

  Matt shook his hand.

  “Now, son. George and I set up and clean after the beach service every Sunday. We’ll be looking for you. If you don’t show up, I’m going to have George watch you like a hawk.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Officer Dorchester handed Matt the warning. “See you Sunday.”

  “Maybe you could bring the sick lady friend.” Tom winked. “Let God take care of her. We’ll look for both of you.”

  Officer Dorchester draped his arm around Tom’s shoulder as they sauntered toward the patrol car. He opened the driver’s side, and voices from the police radio pierced the calm that had fallen. He scooted in, closed the door, and drove away as Tom walked back into the store.

  Matt leaned his head on the steering wheel. Tears filled his eyes, and he didn’t know why. What was happening to him? First, he was speeding without realizing it. Now, he cried like a two-year-old. Who were the tears for? Suzie? His mother? Himself? All of them? He wasn’t sure, but he had to pull his life together. The next cop that stopped him might not have a brother who knew a side of his dad he never had.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Suzie jumped with a start, sadness filling her heart as the morning sun seeped through the blinds and striped the beige carpet. Her insides raced as though someone turned her on high. Then she shook like a blender. Putting the pillow over her face, she screamed as loud as she could. With every fiber of her being she yearned to escape this torture chamber. She glanced at the clock on the white wicker nightstand next to the bed. Six thirty.

  She’d slept through the night again. She lay back and breathed in deep as the quivering subsided. She had to be patient. Dr. Granger had said it would take time to eliminate all of the symptoms. The most important thing—his treatments worked.

  Thank you, Lord, that the terrible sweeping weakness and the worst indigestion have gone. Thank you for the rest last night and the strength to coach. Please make the racing and shaking go away and give me a little more stamina for swim meets. Lord, I’m sorry I took steak and potatoes, salads, and fish for granted. I’m thankful I can eat some of these foods now. Please give me the courage and faith to know you’re healing me. I ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.

  Matt popped in her head as she put her feet on the beige carpet. She wasn’t going to pray about him. He was like one of those spineless jelly fish floating around in the ocean, waiting to see what bumped into it so he could sting it. She wouldn’t fall prey to anyone’s stings again.

  She was thankful for the job and wouldn’t appear resentful the hypocrite dumped her. She wiggled into her suit and pulled on an old North Carolina U.S. Swimming t-shirt.

  She padded down the steps to the kitchen and ate a quick breakfast. Ambling outside, she stepped over a brown lizard then scooted in her car.

  Within fifteen minutes, she parked at Dr. Granger’s office and slipped out of the driver’s seat. No wonder her vehicle sat alone in front of the building. It was seven o’clock, but Margaret had asked her to come by and have a scan and balance before work. She’d explained that the scan would indicate problem areas in her body and she would prescribe supplements to balance them.

  English sparrows flitted from the pavement to a holly bush as she walked to the door which opened to a lobby with no people. The air conditioner clicked on, and in seconds, Margaret appeared. “Hi, Suzie, I’m ready for you.”

  She followed Margaret to her desk and plopped down in a chair. Margaret positioned one self-adhering strap on her arm. Then she handed Suzie the brass handle at the end of the cord attached to the biofeedback machine. Suzie grasped it tight, her heart fluttering as the machine ran. Would the scan predict a healthy future?

  Margaret gestured with her small, smooth hand. “I hope this wasn’t inconvenient for you, but I wanted to check your improvement, and there weren’t any other appointments for two weeks.” She glanced at the computer screen displaying Suzie’s results. “It’s finished.”

  “What does it say?” Suzie sat up and leaned forward.

  Margaret’s eyes wid
ened as she stared at it.

  Suzie’s muscles tightened. She couldn’t read it from the side angle. “What do I have?”

  Margaret removed the wristband, propped her elbow on the edge of her desk, and rested her chin on her fist. “You know we don’t diagnose, but you have many indicators matching Chronic Lyme disease.” She spoke in a near whisper.

  Shock raced through Suzie like a bullet. “Are you sure? How can you tell?”

  “The scan shows everything in your body. The Burrelia burgdorferi bacteria associated with Chronic Lyme disease is right here.” Margaret pointed to the words.

  Tears welled up inside Suzie. Chronic Lyme disease was bad. It occurred when someone contracted Lyme disease and failed to receive early treatment. Suzie grabbed the arms on the chair as weakness swept over her. Her life was ruined. Her hands trembled, and she shook inside. The world stood still, and her mind went blank.

  “Do you have any questions?” Concern lined Margaret’s voice and brought Suzie back to the moment.

  What good would it do to have questions? Why would she ask questions? Were the answers supposed to give her control? She feared they’d only send her into more of a tailspin, but one seemed safe. “Why is it just now coming up?”

  Margaret’s eyes softened in the corners. “It’s carried by ticks. Once it gets in the body it hides, but we’ve removed enough layers of toxins to expose it.”

  Suzie’s head spun. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t someone stop it? Why didn’t God stop it?

  Margaret raised her strawberry blond eyebrows. “It’s just a name. It can affect a patient in different ways, depending on what part of the body it attacks, but it’s nothing worse than what you’ve dealt with since the first day you entered our office, and you’re better.”

  Suzie’s pounding heart slowed, and she breathed easier. Margaret was right. Putting a label on the mysterious illness wouldn’t make her sicker. “It’s odd, but I have no idea how I contracted this.”

  Margaret took a deep breath and sat silent as though she was thinking. “I wonder about the red spot that was on your leg. Remember when I checked the area where it had been with the laser and muscle response testing?”