At the Scent of Water (23 page)

Twenty-four

Diane rented a motel a few blocks from the hospital and would stay there for the duration. Annie had driven home after Papa’s surgery. The place was in order, thanks to Elijah, Mary, and Sam, who had left a brief note on the door.
Fed and watered the stock. Be back in the morning
.

She hadn’t wanted to think about the morning. She’d fallen into bed and slept hard, a deep sleep, and if she dreamed, she didn’t remember. She woke around sunrise and pulled on her overalls and a long-sleeved shirt, for the mornings were cool in the mountains. She put on socks, brushed her teeth, braided her hair, and went downstairs. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. The sky was a gray silk, and as she watched, the sun rose, searing it to shades of violet, mauve, and pink, and something in her felt eased and satisfied.

She went inside, leaving the door open behind her to allow the breeze in. There was a note on the counter.
Fresh milk in the refrigerator. Please come for supper tonight. Love, Mary
. Annie felt a burst of love for her mother-in-law, and for just a moment things came into focus. She glimpsed things the way they had been and should be again, but it was only a brief flashing moment of clarity, as the lens was twisted, barely apprehended before the picture disappeared again into a blur. The reality of their relationship now seemed clearly the distortion, though. Absurd, illogical, and wrong that she had allowed this estrangement to remain.

She went to the sink and filled the percolator with water and coffee, smiling at Papa’s curious ways. She rummaged through the cupboards and found a container of oatmeal and put some on to cook. She made plenty, for Elijah would no doubt make his appearance as soon as the rooster began crowing. Sam would probably come, as well, she realized, if he was to see Papa’s patients today.

Annie felt a rumble of something at that but didn’t pause to identify it. It was only natural that she would feel uneasy around him, though that word didn’t exactly describe it, and unaccountably she remembered the expression on his face yesterday as he’d reassured Diane. It had reminded her of the way he had been before, the way she had thought he could never be again, and the realization that she had just been proved wrong brushed at her mind persistently. She listened to the coffee gurgle and just as persistently swept the thoughts away.

She made a pan of biscuits and opened a jar of Diane’s home-canned peaches, skimmed the cream off the milk and set it on the table along with the brown sugar and some jelly and honey. Breakfast was ready when Elijah and Sam arrived. She stepped out onto the porch to greet them.

****

Annie had on her overalls today, and Sam couldn’t help but smile. He remembered her wearing those silly things and a straw hat.

“Where’s your bonnet?” he asked playfully, and she smiled, remembering the same things he did, he supposed.

“I guess I need a new one,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to that old thing. The dog ate it, I expect.” She nudged Carl’s border collie with her foot, and he rewarded her with a canine smile and a furious wave of his plumed tail. “Y’all come on in and eat,” she said. “I’ve got breakfast ready.”

He ate, for Mama had still been asleep when he had crept out this morning. He had tapped on Elijah’s door, as they had arranged, and the two of them had left. He was happy that Mama had taken her rest, for she had trouble sleeping most nights. He had a bowl of oatmeal and two of Annie’s biscuits and could have eaten several more. She hadn’t lost her touch. They were flaky and hot, browned to perfection. He savored each bite, dripping with butter and jam, and washed them down with a cup of her hot, strong coffee.

“That was delicious,” he said. “Thank you.” And it might have been only his imagination, but he thought her face lit briefly with pleasure at his words.

Elijah volunteered to do the chores with Annie so that Sam could see to the office. He unlocked it with the key Annie gave him and checked the appointment book. Carl had hospital rounds and four home visits scheduled this morning, and this afternoon was free clinic, and who knew who would drop in? He wished he knew what to expect.

He checked his watch. He would go to the hospital first and apply for admitting privileges. He had no idea how long that process would take or what he would do about Carl’s hospitalized patients in the meantime. He looked at the list of home visits that were scheduled this morning. He knew where three of the addresses were located. He would buy a county map and find the fourth. He would need Carl’s bag, and after a flurry of unsuccessful searching, he finally called Diane.

“It’s in the locked cabinet,” she said. “Unfortunately, the key is here.”

“That’s all right,” he told her. “I’m sure there’s an extra stethoscope around the office, and I can just prescribe whatever medications they need. How is Carl?” he asked.

“Oh, I can’t tell you how much better he is. He’s awake and drinking clear fluids. They’re talking about moving him out of CCU tomorrow.”

“I’m so glad, Diane.”

“Sam, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I’m happy to help.”

And actually, he realized upon hanging up the telephone, it was true. He turned that moment of grace he had received around again and again in his mind, admired it but did not examine it too closely. He had the feeling of movement now, that things blocked were finally coming dislodged, and although he did not know what would happen, he felt better. Able to breathe and move again.

He took the appointment book, said good-bye to Elijah and Annie, and then started out on his rounds.

“I’ll go see Papa and bring the key back for you,” she promised. “I’ll bring it to supper.” She blushed furiously. “Your mother invited me.”

“Good,” he said mildly. “I’ll see you then.”

****

It was odd being in a hospital again. Sam walked through the hallways carefully, warily, as if his presence might be challenged. It was not. He paused in front of the surgery suite and smelled the scent. It had its own smell, the operating room. A mixture of disinfectant and sterilized rubber. He felt his adrenaline start to surge, and he turned and went the other way, toward the administrative offices.

He found the place he was looking for, stepped inside, looked around, and smiled. What a nice cozy world. The secretary’s desk was centered before the door, and an older, more buxom, version of Izzy was juggling two phone lines and writing something at the same time. He thought perhaps he recognized her, but he could not be sure. Most likely she was the mother of a friend of his. Gilead Springs was a small town, and everyone’s paths crisscrossed like turtle tracks.

“May I help you?” she asked with a smile.

“I’m Sam Truelove,” he said. “I’d like to see the administrator if I may,” Sam asked, nodding toward the door marked
B. Dandridge
. His brother had introduced them at a church function, but he didn’t know him well. He felt tense and he wondered again who knew what about him. Who was thinking what.

“Just go right on in,” she said with a smile. “I know he’ll be happy to see you, Dr. Truelove.”

So he was known here. Probably everywhere. “Thank you,” he said and went toward the office, stopping to tap on the door.

“Sam! It’s good to see you again.” Bruce Dandridge rose from his desk and motioned Sam in. “Ricky said you might be coming by.”

Ah. Mystery solved. “Did he?”

“Called me yesterday morning. Matter of fact, Trudy has all the paper work ready for your signature.”

“Well, how thoughtful.” Yesterday morning. Before he and Diane had even discussed the matter. He had the sense that he was falling into a well-constructed web, but he actually didn’t mind. “I hope you have a list of Carl’s patients in the hospital, as well. I’m afraid all of that was in Carl’s head, and we haven’t had a chance to talk yet.”

“Trudy can probably pull that up on the computer.”

“I’ll get it ready,” she called cheerily from the other room, and Sam grinned.

Bruce Dandridge rose up and gently but firmly closed the door. He turned back to Sam and sat down in the chair beside him. “I just want to say how sorry I am for your trouble.” He met Sam’s gaze with a frank, sincere look. “We’re glad to have you here. We’re honored at the chance to work with you.”

And there was another unexpected mercy. “Thank you,” Sam said simply, but he felt a rush of gratitude, and something in his chest swelled and tightened.

He signed the papers that allowed him to admit patients to Gilead Springs Memorial Hospital.

“I could call Asheville if you like and have you worked up to admit there, too,” Trudy offered. “I’m friends with the clerk. She could get the papers done, and you could courier them back and forth.”

An excellent idea. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d appreciate that.”

Trudy nodded and beamed. She handed him a patient list. Carl had three patients in the hospital. Sam discharged one to a rehabilitation center to continue recovery from her stroke. The other, a twelve-year-old boy with a broken femur, would be seen by the orthopedist later today but would probably be sent home, as well. He checked on the third. She was an old woman, eighty-five, to be exact, suffering from congestive heart failure. The medication Carl had her on was not the most effective. Sam ordered a new drug and left after a few moments of chat.

When he had finished, he stopped by Ricky’s office. His sister was there, as well. She was a caseworker for the North Carolina Department of Children and Family Services and often borrowed Ricky’s spare office to make her case notes and phone calls. She was based out of Asheville, but that was a long drive every time she wanted to use a copy machine or a computer.

“Hey brother,” she said, and rose up to hug him. He gave her a clumsy squeeze and felt her fluffy hair brush his cheek and nose. Her hair had always been bigger than she was, a fuzzy, dark corona around her face, her eyes dancing or snapping according to the internal weather, her mouth always in motion.

“I heard you’re going to be playing Marcus Welby,” she said, sitting back down.

“You heard right.”

“Good,” she said, then closed her mouth quickly. A rare event.

He knew what she wanted to say. It will be good for you. Keep your mind off your troubles. Well, she was right, wasn’t she?

“You know, I’ve got the feeling.” Laurie’s eyes were wide, her eyebrows arched upward, face turned half sideways and frozen, as if she were listening to something Sam certainly wasn’t hearing. “Something good is about to happen,” she said firmly.

He looked at her askance. “You’ve got the feeling?”

“Now come on, Sam. You know my feelings are always right.”

“I don’t know any such thing.” Sam couldn’t remember any of Laurie’s feelings coming to fruition, even though she was always saying after the fact that she had known it all along.

She looked at him, incredulous. “What about Miss Pitty?” she demanded.

He looked at her and shook his head.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“Like I’m crazy. You know exactly what I’m talking about. I predicted that Miss Pitty was going to die!” Laurie’s tone was incredulous that he’d had to ask. “Remember? I told you all about it. I came in that morning and told Ricky I had the feeling something awful was going to happen, just a darkness . . . like doom. . . . I don’t know.” Laurie shuddered, words apparently failing her. “Then I went home that night, and there she was, poor old thing, stretched out by her water bowl, stiff as a board.” Her eyes went misty at the memory of Miss Pitty’s demise.

Sam made a wry face. “Miss Pitty was a nineteen-year-old cat, Laurie. It didn’t exactly take foreknowledge to predict she was going to that great litter box in the sky someday soon.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Sam regretted them. Making jokes about Miss Pittypat was going too far, an offense not found in Laurie’s catalog of forgivable sins.

Her jaw set. “Well, then, what about the time I said I just
knew
something good was going to happen, and Mama found her wedding ring in the sugar bowl?”

“Let’s look at it the other way,” Sam suggested. “When have you
not
had a feeling of some kind? If you have premonitions every day, it stands to reason you’re going to hit the jackpot from time to time. Even a blind pig finds an acorn now and then.”

“You go on and make fun if you want,” Laurie repeated. She pulled herself up stiffly and turned around toward her computer. “But I’m telling you, I’ve got the feeling. And it’s never wrong.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said. “And I just want to thank you for sharing it with me.”

She didn’t answer. Just sniffed and began to type and inspect her monitor with great interest. Sam grinned and walked on by her toward his brother’s office. She’d be over it by the time he got inside and sat down. His sister was like a mountain thunderstorm. Thunder and lightning and pouring down rain, and fifteen minutes later the grass was dry again.

“He’s not in there,” Laurie called after him. “He’s doing a delivery. Susan Baker’s twins.”

“Just got done,” came Ricky’s voice, and suddenly he was there, blowing in like a cool breeze, dressed in a smartly tailored suit, full cup of coffee in his hand. Sam could smell the nip of aftershave. His brother’s face shone with good cheer, and Sam envied him. He had been born hearty and carefree.

“I just came by to thank you for all the work you’ve been doing in my behalf,” Sam told his brother.

Ricky was all innocent bewilderment. “Well, I’m sure you’re welcome, bro, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know very well. Going behind my back and scheming with Diane, then calling Bruce Dandridge.”

“Bro, I just want you to be a happy man. Is there anything wrong with that?” He picked up his cup of coffee, closed his eyes as he took a sip, then his face relaxed into a broad smile. “Mm, mm, mm. It doesn’t get any better than this,” he murmured in bliss.

“Better than what?” Sam asked, feeling a smile creep onto his grim face just from being in the same room as Ricky.