The Trial of Dr. Kate (20 page)

“If I get to keep my vote, I’m for Adlai Stevenson. Who’d you talk to yesterday?”

“I spent an interesting evening with Jake Watson. We listened to opera on his new sound system. And I met his housekeeper.”

“Jake is an unusual man. I just wish he was more aggressive and mean,” Kate said, shaking her head.

“Me too. Also, yesterday morning I bought a pocketknife from Mr. Sloan. He likes you, but he said he’d be embarrassed to have you examine him.”

“A lot of men are intimidated by women doctors.” Shenandoah smiled. “Then I stopped by to see my friend Frances Washington. She’s on your side.”

“I thought Miss Frances would be with me.”

“The impression I get from talking to people is that you’re dedicated and work really hard. I’ve wondered if it’s some kind of obsession.”

Kate leaned back in the chair and momentarily closed her eyes. Opening them, she smiled and asked, “Did you take psychology in college?”

“One semester. Not sure I learned much.”

“People who’re consumed with work—or rather, who allow their work to consume them—are usually fighting insecurity, a lack of self-worth. They search for approval, validation. Of course, it’s more complicated than that in most instances.”

“Surely you don’t have a lack of self-worth.”

She shrugged. “My father was a wonderful, loving man. But—and there’s always a
but
—he was also a perfectionist, demanding and overbearing. I wanted to please him even though I knew that was impossible.”

“You wanted his approval to make you feel better about yourself.”

“Yes.”

“I have to admire your honesty.”

“I try to be open in all my relationships. You get me warts and all.”

Shenandoah laughed. “Metaphorically speaking, I assume.”

“More or less.”

“Are there any secrets you’re worried about coming out at the trial?”

“We all have secrets, Shenandoah—things we did in our youth, things best forgotten. I’m human like everyone else. I’ve made mistakes.”

“Is the trial, the publicity, painful?”

“You have no idea. I work hard, try to mind my own business, and keep pretty much to myself. I have a public image, and to be honest with you, I guard it with my life.”

“Can we talk about Army? I know you see him periodically. I saw him here a couple of days ago.”

“Have you read
Gone with the Wind
?”

“At last count, five times.”

“Army Johnson is my Rhett Butler.” She didn’t look at Shenandoah as she spoke. “Even if the rumors were true, I’d deny them. Any rational person would. You know Army and I dated in high school. We were never really sweethearts, just went places together: movies, Vanderbilt games, that sort of thing. Army’s very generous. Even with all this upheaval he lets Trudy live in his house.”

“I have a hard time remembering Lillian, what she looked like,” Shenandoah said.

“She was beautiful in a delicate sort of way, like a china doll. Lillie transferred here from Gainesboro our senior year right after her father bought the sawmill. Army fell for her, and soon they were going steady. After we graduated, they got married. When the war broke out, Army went into the marines. Following graduation, I went to Tennessee Tech and then to med school.”

“I can understand how Army would be your Rhett Butler,” Shenandoah said.

Nodding, Kate said, “It’s hard for a single woman even in a small place like Round Rock. People—certain people try to take advantage. Some of these country people don’t think a woman should be a doctor, and a lot of them don’t like the way I treat the coloreds. Then there’s your clan.”

“I know my uncle Junior has been a thorn in your side.”

“Army steps in from time to time on my behalf. People don’t mess with Army. They’re afraid of him. The war hardened Army. He’s tougher now and people sense it.”

“He seems about the same to me. I always thought he was tough. I’m sorry about my uncle.”

Kate shook her head and said, “Junior is a pitiful case. I’ve always felt sorry for him.”

“How could you feel sorry for a drunk who terrorizes the whole town? He’s a bully and mean as a snake, bad through and through.”

“Few people are totally bad, Shenandoah. Junior wasn’t always a mean drunk and bully. He got pushed over the edge.”

“What pushed him?”

* * *

In January of 1946, a cold front swept across the Appalachian Mountains, and Round Rock was hit with four inches of snow. The roads, covered with ice as well as snow, were impassable. Even vehicles with chains slid off the road. Dr. Kate had been forced to cancel all house calls and remained in her clinic, seeing only those patients who could walk to her.

On the third afternoon of the storm, Junior Coleman burst into the Round Rock Medical Clinic carrying his daughter, Joy, wrapped in a worn comforter. Exhausted, he fell to his knees in the waiting room and dropped his little girl on the cold linoleum floor.

When Jazz saw Junior fall, she screamed for Dr. Kate, who rushed into the room, snatched up Joy, and ran with the child to an exam room. She stripped away the comforter and placed a stethoscope on the little girl’s chest. Listening carefully, she glanced at Jazz and said, “Get me an IV stand and a bottle of 5 percent glucose. I’m going to start a penicillin drip. When Junior warms up, tell him to come here.”

Dr. Kate started an IV and added five hundred units of aqueous penicillin. Then she stripped Joy naked and started rubbing ice-cold water over her body.

“What you doing, Dr. Kate?” Junior asked as he stumbled into the room. “Poor little thing’s already near froze to death!”

“I’ve got to get her temperature down before she has a seizure. She has pneumonia. I’m not sure I can pull her through. Her lungs are full of fluid. She needs to be in Vanderbilt, Junior, but the ambulance can’t get here. As soon as the roads are clear, I’ll send her to Nashville.”

The big man looked at the doctor with a blank expression. “Is she going to make it, Dr. Kate?”

“I don’t know.”

Junior Coleman’s shoulders began to shake as if he were having a seizure, and he fought for breath. Tears slid down his leathery face.

“When did she get sick?”

“What day is it, Doc?”

“Wednesday.”

“Monday, I reckon.”

“How did it start?”

“Runny nose and a sore throat. She was awful hot, too.”

“Did she have a cough?”

“Yes, ma’am. That started last night.”

“She was sleepy when you brought her in. When did that happen?”

“This morning. She just never woke up good. That’s why I brung her. It’s my fault, ain’t it, Doc? I waited too long.”

“It’s sometimes hard even for a doctor to recognize pneumonia in the early stages. Don’t blame yourself.”

The cold wave passed that night, and the temperature climbed into the forties the next day. Dr. Kate called Walton’s Funeral Home and arranged for an ambulance to take Joy to Vanderbilt Hospital. Junior and Dr. Kate rode at Joy’s side all the way to Nashville. Still, the next day, Dr. Kate got a call from the hospital saying that Joy had suddenly stopped breathing and the doctors had been unable to revive her.

At the funeral in the Round Rock Church of Christ two days later, every Coleman within a hundred miles filled the little building. Dr. Kate and Nurse Little sat next to Junior and his wife and two sons on the front pew. Junior’s eyes were crisscrossed with angry red blood vessels, and tears rolled down his rough cheeks throughout the funeral service.

On that cold, cloudy afternoon, the mourners’ breaths fogged at the gravesite. Junior let his head drop to his chest as Reverend Whipple read the Twenty-third Psalm. After the last “Amen,” Junior remained by the piled-up earth while the others left.

Three hours later, Dr. Kate drove by the cemetery on her way to Static and saw Junior still kneeling at his daughter’s grave. She parked her car and walked to where Junior was kneeling. A light frost covered the ground, and she could see the big man’s shoulders trembling.

“Junior, you need to go home. There’s nothing you can do for Joy. You’ve got two boys to think of. Come on, I’ll drive you to Beulah Land.”

Junior raised his head and looked into the doctor’s eyes as if he was staring at an angel. “I let her die, Dr. Kate. I let my baby die.”

She kneeled beside Junior and placed her arm around his shoulders. “It’s not your fault Joy got pneumonia. You did the best you could. You did the right thing. Come on now. Let me take you home.”

“It ain’t no use, Doc. I’ll never live it down. I let my baby die.”

* * *

“I was never able to convince him that it wasn’t his fault,” Kate said. “Soon after they buried the girl, he started drinking hard. Unfortunately, Junior’s a mean drunk, but I still feel sorry for him. Isn’t it ironic: Junior and I are both inmates in the Parsons County Jail? I think you should make peace with your uncle, Shenandoah. None of us are perfect human beings. Deputy Masterson can set it up for you.”

“I’ll think about it, but I won’t make any promises.”

“One other thing before you go. Have you seen Jimmy Joe Short yet?”

“Monday morning.”

“Good. I’m worried about that pickup.”

“Me, too.”

A
t noon Shenandoah headed for the house Bobby shared with his mother. She was looking forward to meeting Wally and to spending time with Bobby, though she still found it hard to think of Bobby as a father.

Shenandoah wore Capri pants, a tight-fitting T-shirt, and Keds without socks. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she’d decided not to wear lipstick or rouge. As a redhead, without makeup her face looked as blank as an onion.

The modest frame house boasted a new-looking coat of yellow paint. The yard was well kept and had beds full of marigolds along the sidewalk and beside the covered porch. She rang the doorbell, but no one answered. She knocked. Nothing. What if Bobby had changed his mind, decided to leave without her?

She walked around the corner of the house to the backyard. Bobby and Wally were there, playing catch with a plastic beach ball. Bobby had on white shorts, a T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest, and Keds as well. Wally wore swimming trunks and was barefoot. Wally seemed big for his age, much larger than most two-year-olds. His longish hair, sun-bleached blond, flew wildly about his glowing face as he giggled and ran after the ball each time his father threw it. He had the pale skin of his father, but otherwise didn’t look a thing like Bobby. Shenandoah wondered what his mother looked like and was surprised to feel a pang of jealousy.

Bobby looked up and smiled when he saw Shenandoah standing awkwardly at the corner of the house. He said, “Come on over. Wally’s dying to meet you.”

As Shenandoah walked up to father and son, Wally looked up at her, gave a grin not unlike his father’s, and said, “Miss Shena.”

“Pleased to meet you, Wally. Ready to go swimming?”

“Wally swim good,” he said.

“Wally has never lacked for confidence,” Bobby said. “How about you, Shenandoah? Ready for a picnic at the lake?”

“You bet. Want to take my car?”

“My truck. We can put the ice chest and some chairs in the back.”

“I thought you drove the hot rod.”

“That’s Army’s, and it’s for business. I have a ‘37 Ford pickup.”

They loaded the bed of Bobby’s truck with three aluminum lawn chairs, a small ice chest, and a box of sandwiches. Bobby said, “You drive and I’ll hold Wally.”

Wally kept up a constant chatter on the way to the lake. As questions and comments streamed out of his mouth, he squirmed in Bobby’s lap and kept trying to get down on the floorboard. Bobby looked at Shenandoah and shook his head. “I wish I had his energy. Momma says she thinks God got it wrong—the energy of youth should be saved for old age.”

He turned Wally around and placed him on his knees facing him. He said, “Show Miss Shenandoah how much math you know. Tell Daddy what two and two is.”

Wally, his expression serious, stuck up four fingers and said, “Four.”

“Good. Two take away two,” Bobby said.

Wally made a circle with the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

Finally, Bobby said, “And the square root of four is?”

Wally wrinkled his nose and said, “Hundred.”

Laughing, Bobby said, “We’re still working on that one. Momma wanted to meet you, but she didn’t get back from church on time. Brother Abernathy gets a little overzealous on Sunday mornings. I think Momma’s a little nervous that I’m seeing a Coleman.”

Shenandoah glanced at him. “You think that’ll be a problem?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Bobby gave Shenandoah directions, and half an hour later they pulled up at the picnic tables Bobby had taken her to the first day they met. Shenandoah unloaded the gear while Bobby and Wally walked down to the pebbly beach. Bobby slipped off his tennis shoes and waded into the shallow water while holding Wally’s hand. Wally splashed happily and ducked his head under the water while Bobby kept a close eye on him.

Shenandoah sat in one of the aluminum chairs and opened a Coke. She looked out across the lake and saw that it was full of boats. Most were runabouts and johnboats, but there were a few small houseboats. Water skiers crisscrossed over the wake of the outboard that pulled them. Shenandoah thought that looked like great fun.

In a few minutes, Wally and Bobby came running up the slight hill. Wally ran in front, and every few steps Bobby leaned over and poked his son in the ribs. Wally giggled and tried to change directions.

Finally, he ran directly to Shenandoah and climbed into her lap, the child’s wet swimsuit drenching Shenandoah’s Capri pants. Wally used Shenandoah’s crotch to rest his bare feet, put his arms around Shenandoah’s neck, and gave her a hug.

Bobby said, “Wally, get down from there. Look what you’ve done to Shenandoah’s clothes.”

Wally grunted and his wet swimsuit emitted an unmistakable odor. Bobby shook his head and said, “Time for a change. Shenandoah, could you get that small canvas bag out of the back of the truck for me, please?”

Shenandoah wandered around on the grass while Bobby changed Wally’s diaper. It had never occurred to her that the child might not be potty trained. She wondered how she would be as a mother, stepmother.