Read The Trial of Dr. Kate Online
Authors: Michael E. Glasscock III
Shenandoah explained all this to Mrs. Johnson, who said, “That’s a cockeyed plan and I refuse to go along with it.”
Shenandoah said, “Trust me on this. No one’s going to stop us.” She shook her head, but she followed Shenandoah through the hospital door.
The bed next to Bobby’s was empty when they walked in, so Shenandoah quickly closed the door. Mr. Applebee was panting heavily when Shenandoah let him out of the canvas bag.
Bobby looked better. His hair had been combed, his eye seemed less swollen, and he could almost open it.
“Isn’t that Mr. Applebee?” he asked.
“Poor Hattie Mae had a stroke today and passed away. I’ve adopted Mr. Applebee, for better or worse—depends upon your point of view.”
Bobby glanced at the dog. “Are you sure you can handle Mr. Applebee?”
“I’m willing to try.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about poor Hattie Mae,” Bobby said. “She was a sweetie.”
“I’m going to miss her,” Shenandoah said. “Look, I’ve brought Wally and your mom.”
Mrs. Johnson picked up her grandson and held him close to his father so he could give him a kiss on the cheek. The child seemed bewildered to see his father injured and in bed attached to ropes and pulleys.
“Wally miss Daddy!”
Bobby smiled and then frowned. Mr. Applebee had just passed some very noxious methane gas.
“He do that often?” Bobby asked.
“All the time.”
“Is the trial over?” Bobby asked.
“They convicted Dr. Kate. Sorry for all the bad news.”
“I can’t believe they convicted Kate. What happened?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
Mrs. Johnson settled into an armchair in the corner of the room with Wally snuggled in her lap. His eyelids drooped. Mr. Applebee sat at Shenandoah’s feet with his big head resting on Shenandoah’s right shoe.
Shenandoah found herself staring at Bobby and thinking what a handsome man he was, black eye and all.
When he noticed Shenandoah’s stare, he said, “What?” Shenandoah reached down, scratched Mr. Applebee on the head, and eased him off her foot. “I guess this wreck brought everything into focus for me. I think we should go steady. I’m going to try to get a job at the
Tennessean
so I can come see you on the weekends. And when you make runs to Nashville, we can have dinner at the Cross Keys. That way, if we’re lucky, we might actually end up married.”
Bobby looked at her with wide eyes. “What?”
“I’m in love with you.”
Motioning with the sweep of his hand, Bobby said, “Think you can handle all this?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then you’ve got a deal, you smooth-talking city girl. Hell, I’ve been in love with you since I saw you on the side of the road. I’m so darned happy right now I could bust a gut. Give me a kiss, girl, but not on the forehead.”
Shenandoah smiled and stroked Bobby’s face with the back of her hand. She felt a tremendous warmth settle over her. She realized that she loved him with all her soul and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She leaned over and planted a wet kiss on his lips and let it linger for what seemed like an eternity. Then she stood and asked, “May I get you something? Ice chips?”
“I’d love a Coke.”
Mrs. Johnson declined when Shenandoah asked her if she wanted anything, and then Shenandoah walked to the nurses’ station whistling “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from
Carousel.
She felt so happy she could barely contain herself. A young nurse in a crisp white uniform and cap with a Vanderbilt pin on her lapel looked up and smiled. “May I help you?”
“Is there a Coke machine on this floor?”
“On the other side of the elevators there’s a concession room. There’re drink and snack machines in there.”
“Thanks.”
The Coke machine was empty, so she walked down a flight of stairs looking for another one. On the first floor she found a large snack area with a Coke machine. She got one for Bobby and one for herself.
As she stepped off the elevator, she noticed several nurses rushing into Bobby’s room. She ran to the door and was blocked by one of the nurses.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a problem. Doctor’s in there now.”
Shenandoah dropped both Cokes, breaking the bottles and spilling the dark liquid on the tile floor. She pushed past the nurse and rushed to Bobby’s side. Mrs. Johnson was standing in the corner, holding a sleeping Wally in her arms, her face a mask of shocked disbelief.
A young doctor in a short white coat was just taking his stethoscope off Bobby’s chest. Bobby lay motionless with his eyes closed and didn’t appear to be breathing.
“Jesus, what happened?”
Turning to Shenandoah, the doctor said, “I’m sorry, ma’am—he’s gone.”
“
Dead
?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My God, how? I was just talking to him! How could this happen?”
“Most likely a pulmonary embolus from the broken leg. There’s no way to know when they’re going to hit unless there’s some indication of clotting.”
“But he didn’t complain of any pain in his legs!
The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry. He didn’t show any symptoms. There’s nothing we could’ve done to prevent this.”
Shenandoah raked her hands through her hair, threw her head back, and gave an anguished howl. Then she turned to the doctor. “Could you leave us?”
He did, frowning. Shenandoah held onto the rail at the foot of the bed and sobbed, her shoulders trembling so violently that the whole bed shook. She took quick, short breaths until she became so lightheaded that she almost passed out. She kept shaking her head and moaning until Mrs. Johnson wrapped her arm around Shenandoah’s shoulder. She’d left Wally in the chair, asleep.
Mrs. Johnson pulled Shenandoah tighter against her, sobbing, and said, “I can’t believe this. How could something like this happen?”
Shenandoah said, “It’s not fair. Jesus, we’d just found each other. Now it’s over. Just like that. It’s over.”
Shenandoah and Mrs. Johnson held each other in a firm grip for several minutes. Mr. Applebee, sensing something wrong, whimpered at Shenandoah’s feet. Finally, Mrs. Johnson loosened her grip and walked back to the chair where her grandson lay sleeping. She picked him up and sat in the chair with him cradled in her arms, his head on her shoulder.
Shenandoah walked to the head of the bed, then leaned over and kissed Bobby, first on his forehead and then on his lips. Straightening, she looked down on his pale face. “How will I ever live without you?”
A
fter being convicted for the murder of Lillian Johnson, Dr. Kate spent four years in the women’s prison in Nashville until given a full pardon by Governor Frank Clement. Jake Watson was able to convince Buford Frampton and some of his powerful Senate allies into passing a special resolution to reinstate Kate’s medical license upon her release. She had been legal since the fall of 1956. To everyone’s surprise, she’d even obtained a valid driver’s license. After weaning herself off alcohol in July of 1952, she joined a twelve-step program and never again had another drink. The doctor had remained single, though she and Army Johnson had remained good friends until his death in 1980 from lung cancer.
It had not surprised anyone that Austin Davis had become a civil rights lawyer of some note. He had almost gotten himself killed in Mississippi in 1965, but some college student pulled him into a car at the last moment and they escaped.
After Bobby’s death, Mrs. Johnson raised Wally by herself with financial aid from Shenandoah. In fact, she paid for Wally’s undergraduate education at Tennessee Tech and for medical school at Vanderbilt University. The young man had graduated in 1976 and took a family practice residency at the Peter Brent Hospital in Fort Worth, Texas. He’d joined Dr. Kate’s practice in 1978 and was now married to Abigail Bradshaw, the young pharmacist who had taken over her grandfather’s drugstore.
The publication of
E. H. Crump, Southern Kingpin
in 1954, the year Boss Crump died, established Shenandoah Coleman as a first-rate political reporter. In 1965, she married Alex McBride, a young television news anchor from Washington, D.C. Shenandoah left the newspaper world in the early 1970s to join public radio, then in its infancy.
Because of Wally, Shenandoah and Alex made the trip from Washington to Round Rock once a year. The drive had become a lot easier because of Interstate 40 and the new four-lane highway from Cookeville to Livingston. The two-lane blacktop between Livingston and Round Rock had been straightened, and there was a new bridge across Dale Hollow Lake. It took a fraction of the time it did in 1952 to make the drive from Livingston to Round Rock. There was a liquor store in Lebanon, so the ridge runners had disappeared, replaced by marijuana farmers.
When the first Mr. Applebee went to his just reward, Shenandoah bought another English bulldog and named him Mr. Applebee the Second. Shenandoah had never been without a Mr. Applebee since she adopted Hattie Mae’s original one in 1952.
Overall, Shenandoah McBride’s had been a good life. She’d come to grips with her heritage, and her success as a newswoman continued to bring her fame, if not fortune. The loss of Bobby had been devastating, and it had taken her ten years to find and fall in love with her husband. Yet almost fifty years later, on certain hot, sultry summer nights, Shenandoah was still haunted by the memory of that handsome, sweet-tempered daredevil from the Appalachian Mountains of East Tennessee.
1. Although it’s set in the same town,
The Trial of Dr. Kate
is in many ways a very different book from its predecessor in the Round Rock series,
Little Joe
. Can you talk about what you feel to be the connections between the two books, beyond just the setting?
Little Joe
is about the struggles of a nine year old boy who must adjust to a new life after his parents are killed in a terrible automobile accident. In addition, he must adapt to his grandparents’ ways and life on a farm. Actually, Dr. Kate shows up in this first book as a medical student. In the
Trial of Dr. Kate
, she is struggling with her own demon, alcoholism.
2. What gave you the idea for structuring
The Trial of Dr. Kate
around a murder trial? How much of the novel’s presentation of small-town Tennessee—its politics, its social life, its attitudes toward race, alcohol, and women—comes from real life?
Southern literature has always been rich in character studies. That’s because Southerners, by and large, are many times more colorful individuals than those from other parts of the country. They are a product of an agrarian system rooted in the Civil War—or as old time Southerners would say, “The War of Northern Aggression.” Southerners are also known to be hypocritical to a fault. The idea for structuring the novel around an impaired physician just came to me one day. The trial was a natural extension of that idea.