Deep in the Valley (10 page)

J
une didn’t have time to ponder drug busts and handsome gun-toting mystery men, for the next morning, though tired and unsettled, she had to pursue the matter of John Stone. It couldn’t wait.

As though Murphy had planned it, John Stone was standing in the corridor of the clinic when Jessica said, “June? There’s a Dr. David Fairfield on the phone for you.” Fairfield was the chief of the women’s clinic in which John had worked before getting his second residency.

He stiffened; it was unmistakable. He was facing an examining room door, paging through a patient’s chart, and June could only see his back, but she saw him freeze. It was brief, but he had definitely heard who was calling for June. He didn’t turn to look at her, but went into the examining room and closed the door. She felt a twinge of guilt for checking him out behind his back.

But why should I? she asked herself. It was her responsibility to do so! It was her duty! She shouldn’t
feel the least bit guilty. So why did she? Maybe because all this checking should have been done
prior
to their agreement. John must wonder, and rightly so, if she planned to check his references indefinitely. Well, she was stuck now. There was nothing to do but proceed.

June sidled close to Jessica so that no one would overhear. “Jessie, I know it’s tough scheduling, but have you been able to free up Charlotte to stand in with John during his pelvic exams? Being a woman doctor, I hardly remember that he needs company.”

“Well,
he
remembers,” Jessica said. “I’ve had to fill in a couple of times when Charlotte was busy.”

“He’s sensitive to that?”

“Sensitive? I think it’s his strict protocol—big city doc, you know.” She smiled and whispered, “Or maybe because the women swoon over him so much. He’s extra careful, even though he
pretends
not to notice all the attention he gets.”

“Hmm,” June nodded. She wanted to ask, “Every single time?” But then she realized she needn’t have asked at all. It wasn’t necessary for a woman to have her feet in the stirrups to be vulnerable. Just being in a small room with a closed door could be perilous if you were with a bad person.

“I like it when he asks me to help,” Jessica said.

“Oh?”

“He explains everything so thoroughly. He gets you involved, you know?”

“But you think he’s a dork!” June whispered.

“He’s not a dork all the time,” she whispered back. “When he’s talking about medical things, he’s very thorough, very involving. It’s fun. I got to put a stitch
in Bobby Randall’s cut foot. Cool,” she said, twirling away. “Ah, June? Dr. Fairfield?”

“Oh!” June skittered down the hall to her office. “Dr. Fairfield, hi,” she said, a bit too cheerily, trying to mask her nervousness about this situation. “Sorry to have kept you. It’s busy around here to—”

“Yes, I’m busy as well. What can I do for you, Dr. Hudson?” She immediately heard two things in his voice. He was an older man, perhaps Elmer’s age, and he was cold.

“I operate a clinic in Grace Valley, Dr. Fairfield, and have recently invited Dr. John Stone to see patients here. We’re a small town without an OB, and since he’s added family medicine to his credentials, I think he’s tailor-made for us. But of course I have to check his references.”

His first response was a condescending laugh. “Grace Valley? Do you have a prestigious country club there? An upscale yacht club, perhaps?”

“Why…no. Nothing even close.”

“Well, I confess I’m confused. I wouldn’t have expected John to turn up there.”

“Here?”

“In a, well, a little bend in the road without a five star resort.”

“Ah…and would you care to enlighten me, Dr. Fairfield? Explain why?”

“Oh, the Dr. Stone I knew was extremely upwardly motivated. He required a lot of attention, in the forms of money, prestige and recognition. The Fairfield Women’s Clinic suited him perfectly. Our patients are among the Bay Area’s most prominent.”

June didn’t know what to say. Not only was that contrary to what she thought she knew about John, it had nothing whatever to do with her current problem. When she’d seen John delivering Julianna Dickson’s baby she had been convinced he had the stuff of a small town doctor even though he dressed out of
Gentleman’s Quarterly.
He seemed fancy, yet comfortable with Grace Valley’s simplicity. She didn’t really care about his taste in restaurants; she only cared whether their ethics matched. She was only looking to dispel suspicion of improprieties in the examining room. It took her a long second to respond. “Well, that certainly doesn’t describe Grace Valley….”

“And family medicine? I would have put him in cosmetic surgery…or cardiology. Something more…visible.”

“Then you haven’t been in touch with him since he left the Fairfield Clinic?”

“Hardly. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“Do you mind telling me why that was?” she asked.

“It’s very simple, my dear. Dr. Stone not only wished to leave us to pursue a private practice of his own, but he also wished to sell us back the partnership we so generously gave him. At a handsome price, naturally.”

John? Greedy? She might describe him as pretty, maybe even superficial, but greedy hadn’t come to mind.

“And his rapport with his patients?” June asked.

There was a long silence followed by a heavy sigh. “A reasonable number of people asked for him specifically. As for his ability, I’d have to say he met the requirements. Met the minimum standards.”

“You’d
have
to say? That doesn’t sound like a glowing recommendation.”

“Young woman, you must certainly be aware that I’m not obligated to speak to you at all, much less to cast aspersions on the name of a qualified doctor who, as far as I know, practiced adequate medicine.” Aha, June thought, there’s a doctor trying to avoid a lawsuit. “I’ll go out on a limb, however, and tell you to watch your back if you’re cutting him in for half,” Dr. Fairfield finished.

My dear
and
Young woman,
he’d said. The man was a superior jackass. This was a waste of time; she didn’t have the least confidence in his opinion. She rested her forehead in her hand. “Is there anything else you can tell me about Dr. Stone? I assure you it will be held in the strictest confidence.”

“Yes, he’s a good golfer. Plays to a four handicap. Perhaps that will come in handy in your Grace Springs.”

“Valley,” she corrected. “Thank you so much for your time.”

He didn’t say goodbye. The phone simply went dead in her hand. She stared at it in amazement. He must be mighty secure to be so rude, she thought.

There was a tap-tap-tap and her office door opened. There stood Elmer. Her mouth was still open, the receiver still in her hand. “Your best friend just drop dead?” he asked.

She closed her mouth, replaced the phone and motioned him inside. She didn’t speak until the door was closed and Elmer sat in the chair facing her desk.

“Dad, I was trying to do a routine check of John’s
references and just spoke to the head of the women’s clinic where he was a partner some years ago. Dr. Fairfield of the Fairfield Women’s Clinic.”

“I know of the place,” Elmer said. “Has an outstanding reputation. They do a lot of community service work. Free clinics for poor women and the like.”

She sat back. “Dr. Fairfield is an insufferable ass.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Maybe that best explains John’s departure….”

“He doesn’t have much nice to say about John,” she said. “Apparently they didn’t part on the friendliest of terms.”

“Ah, I see your problem. You don’t know what to believe.”

“Exactly!”

“June, you should try to talk to an office manager. Or someone who worked alongside John, like one of the nurses. His ‘Charlotte.’ An ideal resource.”

“Of course,” she said, relieved, reaching for the phone. “You never know how little you know about things like this until it’s upon you. I’m used to knowing people half their lives before I consider them for employment.”

“Haven’t you waited a little long for this? The man’s been seeing patients here for a couple of months.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Been busy.” But Elmer was frowning. He knew. He didn’t know what he knew, but he knew she was far more efficient than this.

Before she could lift the receiver, the phone rang. “June Hudson,” she answered.

“June, dearest,” came Birdie’s high-pitched and lilting voice. “Are you very very busy?”

“Oh…no more than usual. Are you all right?”

“Oh perfectly. But I was wondering if you’d do me an enormous favor.”

“If I can.”

“There’s a large box on my porch. It has a couple of rugs, a couple of pictures, some fabric, miscellaneous stuff I picked up at a thrift shop in Rockport…and Judge has the little truck. Would you be a darling girl and put that box in your Jeep when you’re done with work and bring it out to Leah’s farm?”

“Leah’s?”

“Yes, dear. A couple of us are out here helping her get organized, and that box of stuff is meant for her.”

“Sure,” June said slowly. “Anything else I can bring?”

“Well, these boys do love their sodas. Regular Coke, if I’m right.”

“My pleasure.”

“You’re an angel. Bye.”

Again June was left staring at the phone. “Birdie,” she said to her father.

“Yes, that’s why I came over. There are some neighbors out at Leah’s, getting her farm straight. She’s darn near missed planting. She won’t be able to do as much, but we can’t have her miss seeding altogether. So I’m taking that big barbecue grill from out behind Fuller’s Café and I’m going to cook some burgers and weenies a little later to feed the whole bunch. You’re welcome for dinner, if you’re in the mood.”

“Wow. Who’s organizing this?”

Elmer stood. “I don’t rightly know. You know how these things happen.”

Gus Craven had isolated his family on their farm at the edge of the valley, and the whole town knew he abused them. His benders were legendary and his violence terrifying. Since no one could seem to do anything about it, people got used to it and left them alone. It always seemed more dangerous for Leah and the boys if neighbors tried to intervene, so they held back, soft-pedaled and prayed for the best. But for a few visits from the police, that old bad seed was left to do his trouble. That was the worst of small town life—that everyone knew and no one could do a damn thing about it.

And this was the best of small town life—that there were people present at Leah’s farm, trying to help her get back on her feet, trying to set right what Gus had for too long mishandled.

Gus had been behind bars for just two months; by now the bruises were healed. What money Leah had, if any, had been used up several weeks ago. June knew that Birdie had looked in on Leah to see if there was anything she needed, though it was well-known she and the boys needed everything. Women from the Presbyterian Church visited her, took some rummage sale clothes and gathered up nonperishables. But what June saw as she drove onto the Craven property took her breath away. Smoke billowed from a large picnic grill where her dad and George Fuller turned burgers and hot dogs. Trestle tables had been set up in the yard along with folding chairs she recognized from the high school cafeteria. She saw her aunt’s old Cadillac in the yard beside the Barstow sisters’ car, and thanked God they weren’t cooking. Sam Cussler was up on a ladder,
painting the house. The bakery truck had pulled up to the back porch and its doors stood open; Syl and Burt were unloading fresh buns.

June parked the Jeep and carried the box to the front porch. There she found Tom Toopeek’s father, Lincoln, methodically stretching new screen over the front door. She could smell the fresh paint, lemon oil, vinegar and cookies. She put the box on the porch and stepped through the portal to the living room, where the activity became still more exciting. The old carpet had been stripped away and a new one, rolled, lay against the wall. At another wall Susan Stone and Julianna Dickson were consumed with laughter as Julianna tried to peel a runaway sheet of wallpaper off Susan’s back. “Um, I think that goes on the wall,” June said, and they almost fell to the floor in their hilarity. The fumes of too much wallpaper paste, maybe?

She was nearly knocked over by some little ones racing through the house. It turned out to be Sydney Stone, little Stan and one of the Dickson kids. “Syd!” Susan shouted. “Slow down!”

“They can’t slow down,” Julianna said. “Too much sugar.”

Leah and Birdie were smoothing a table linen over a dining room table. June barely recognized Leah. Her color was rich, her hair clean and silky, and she wore khaki slacks, a collared shirt and hiking boots instead of her usual limp and colorless housedress. She looked years younger. She smiled at June, who realized Leah was only thirty-three. Life with Gus had made her look haggard. His absence had brought back her natural vitality.

“June, look what Birdie found for us! We’ve never
had dining furniture before. And a hutch, too! And enough chairs for everyone to sit at one time.”

“It was Rakinstock’s old piece,” Birdie said. “You know how they’re always trading out furniture faster than Judge changes socks. They were just going to donate it anyway, and I said, I’ve got just the place. Now I guess we have to be on the lookout for some special glass and china pieces to fill up that breakfront.”

“There’s a time I didn’t want glass in the house, but maybe now… I never imagined anything so…so beautiful,” Leah admitted.

Another shriek of uncontrolled laughter made June turn to find Susan and Julianna on the floor, holding each other up, crushing a huge snarled piece of wallpaper underneath and between them. June couldn’t suppress a smile of envy; they made cute girlfriends.

She recognized her aunt’s hat slowly descending the stairs, the wide brim seeming to float. “Birdie…Oh, hello dear,” Myrna said. “Birdie, we’re ready to start painting the master bedroom, but we need another tarpaulin. Will you send one up?”

“I’ll get Judge to bring it up. He’s on the back porch fixing the kitchen window. Be just a minute.”

As the sun slowly sank westward, June saw a transformation take place at the Craven farm. The house was redecorated and furnished, clothes were hung in closets and folded into new chests of drawers. The cupboards were filled with food and dishes, the fields closest to the house were planted and everything that needed repair was seen to. There was a smile everywhere she looked. The police chief who had carted Gus off was sanding down a porch rail so it could be painted, and
the judge who’d locked him up was installing new doorknobs and water faucets.