Wake the Dawn (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

H
adn’t she just wondered if she would ever get the clinic records caught up? She just did, filing the last of the endless pieces of paper, and it was only nine fifteen
A.M.
Curiously, no patients had shown up as yet.

She wandered out into the hall, into the waiting room. Barbara sat alone, pondering a crossword puzzle.

“Sure is slow today,” Esther mused aloud.

“Comes in bunches. You know that. New coffee’s on.” Absorbed, Barbara didn’t even look up.

As Esther turned to wander back to the kitchen, Sarah Applegate entered the double doors. “Hi, Dr. Esther!” At last! A customer.

“Hi, Sarah!” Esther continued down the hall. Why did Sarah have an appointment today? she wondered. Oh well, she’d know soon enough. She liked Sarah, really liked her. Such a bright kid, but before she left home that brightness would no doubt be snuffed by her mom’s distrust and negativity. Or maybe she’d escape before the light went out completely. Had Esther really escaped her mom’s constant criticism? What would she have been like without it?

On impulse, Esther stopped at her office to grab her stethoscope.
Drape a stethoscope around your neck, and you’re a doctor.
Ben’s maxim. She smiled at the thought. The smile faded quickly, pushed off her face by the thought of that meltdown, by the thoughts of poor little Jefferson. And Ben. Right now her thoughts about him were confused and confusing. She continued down the hall to the break room and new coffee.

She stopped cold, gasping. Speak of the devil. Ben stood beside the vending machines in the break room, a half-eaten maple bar in one hand, coffee mug in the other. He waved a finger, his mouth kind of full. “Fresh doughnuts, courtesy Beth. Fresh coffee, courtesy Barbara.” He didn’t sound the least angry or frustrated with her.

She stammered. “Ben…” Licked her lips. “Ben…” Squared her shoulders. “Ben, I am so sorry. I don’t know what to say or how to say it, but I am so very sorry.”

He was smiling. “Remember a couple of times I said I’ve been there? I’ll say it again. I’ve been there. Apology accepted but not necessary.”

“You don’t understand, but—”

“No,
you
don’t understand. I do understand.” Still that easy smile. “Let’s start over. Fresh doughnuts from Beth, coffee from Barbara.”

This was all just too much. She could…what could she do? The best way would be to go with the flow. He accepted her apology. Start from there. “All right. Let’s.” She chose a doughnut. “You’re not in uniform today. I’m not used to seeing you in civvies.”

He sobered. “Stopped by my office early for some files. His Majesty was there, said if I didn’t show up on time and in uniform, I was fired. I said, ‘Nah, I’m not that lucky’ and left.”

“You guys really
don’t
like that temporary chief!” She took a bite of maple bar, paused to savor the first creamy excellence of the frosting in her mouth. She frowned, talked with her mouth full. “He can’t really fire you, can he?”

“In theory, yes. But there are so many bureaucratic hurdles he’d have to jump through, it’s not worth the effort. I’m safe.” He popped the rest of the maple bar in his mouth and moved in close to her as he surveyed the doughnuts. She liked his closeness, but did she like the funny feeling it caused in her? Maybe she did. He chose a sticky bun, poured her a mug of coffee, and refilled his own.

The break room door clunked. She turned as Mr. Aptos entered pushing a wheelchair.

“Mr. Aptos! Why, Hannah! You’re out of the hospital!” Esther laid aside her doughnut to cross the room and reach out to the lady in the wheelchair, both hands. She stopped, drew her hands back. “Oh, dear, I’m all sticky!”

Hannah laughed and grabbed her hands. “I do believe sugar washes off. It’s so good to see you, dear!”

“How is your leg doing?” Esther eyed the cast, a huge white tube encasing the lady’s leg from her ankle all the way up.

“My orthopedist says I’ll be walking in no time. Actually, I have a walker when it’s just around the house, but I don’t use it out on the street.” Hannah dropped her voice conspiratorially. “You know, an old woman charges down the shopping mall in a wheelchair with this cast sticking out, and the Red Sea parts, just like that!” She made a sweeping motion. “Teenagers, other shoppers, they all leap aside. I love it!” Her eyes twinkled. Esther remembered too well when they were dulled by pain.

Here came Sarah Applegate into the break room. Patients didn’t come back here. And in walked Dr. Livingston! And Dr. Ho! Wait; and Ansel came in carrying Dawn, and here was Beth with her newborn. Roy Abrams doddered in but the door didn’t close behind him, because that Culpepper boy was entering. What was his name? Gary. He held the door open, for Gramma Alma was coming through it.

Gramma marched straight as an arrow over to Esther, hugged her, and kissed her cheek. “You’re looking good, Chicken Little!”

Chicken Little? Gramma hadn’t called Esther that since she was six and started school.
Too old now for that nonsense
, Mom had decreed, and so it ended. Esther had always missed that nonsense, she’d missed it so much.

“Wait a minute!” She stepped back as sudden panic made her chest vibrate. “What’s going on here?” She backed up against the counter, suddenly bobbing in a sea of faces crowding, smiling, watching her. “What are you all doing?”

Ben shrugged. “We just wanted the chance to tell you how much we care about you.”

No! I’m out of here!
She headed for the door.

No one blocked her way, exactly, but no one stepped aside, either. Dr. Ho leaned his back against the door, closed his eyes, and yawned elaborately, patting his gaping mouth with an open hand.

“No!” The panic multiplied itself inside her so strongly she was getting dizzy. She stepped back and gripped the counter behind her with both hands.

Beside her, Ben studied the floor. “Y’know, when a bunch of friends get together to wish you well, it’s usually called a party, and you have a good time. You look panicked.”

“Please! Just go! All of you, just go away! I can’t—I can’t do this!”

How could she stop this madness? And she realized in even greater panic that she could not. Whatever this pressing, churning, staring crowd was going to do, she couldn’t change it.

Sarah stepped to the front. “Dr. Esther, I’ve decided what I want to be when I get out of school. I’m going to be a doctor, like you. You believed me when my own mom didn’t, and you weren’t afraid to stand up for me. There’s a whole lot of kids I know who need someone like that, and I’m going to be that someone. It’s tough to be—you know, okay—clean—when it seems like everyone else around you is—you know.” She bit her lip, looked near tears. “Thank you.”

Esther hadn’t expected that. It slammed into her, stopped her thoughts cold.

Gary Culpepper stood tall near her. “And I think I’m going to do the paramedic thing. That night when we were all working all night was the most amazing night of my life. Dennis and Yvette have the fun job, but you were in there the whole time, and you never yelled at me, or anyone. I’ve been talking to Dennis, and he’s going to sign me up for the training. Thank you.”

“I was talking to Dr. Livingston a little while ago.” Roy Abrams stood over by the side counter. “You couldn’t save my Denise, he says nobody could have. But you tried. You tried so hard, even when you didn’t have enough to work with. Thank you.”

“You’ve been talking about a medical facility for years.” Mr. Aptos stepped out from behind Hannah’s wheelchair. “Nobody listened to you. But you kept at it. You’re still keeping at it. People say I’m the one getting this thing moving, but it’s not me. It’s you. It’s always been you. And because of you, people’s lives are going to be saved, and people are going to get better medical treatment, the care they need. You’ve given this area a bigger gift than you can ever imagine, little lady. Thank you.”

Her head was spinning. She steadied herself, tried to quell the panic.

Hannah wheeled forward a couple feet. “I didn’t want to be one to complain, but I was hurting so bad. You gave me something to do, something important, and it helped me get through the night. Thank you.”

Ansel stepped to the front with Dawn; people moved aside to accommodate him. “Ben was telling me how you managed to start a line in this beautiful baby, in her scalp. That’s next to miraculous right there. You saved her life. Thank you.”

And beside him, Beth was smiling. “Thank you for delivering my baby in the middle of all that chaos. You called it textbook. I call it miraculous. Thank you.”

Sarah raised her voice from the back of the room. “Thank you again, Dr. Esther! See you later.” She waved as she walked out, and Dr. Ho smiled as he held the door for her.

“Bye.” Gary Culpepper waved, left behind Sarah.

Everything was swirling around like cotton candy in a cotton-candy spinner. One by one they left; Hannah rolled forward and kissed her hands, then let Mr. Aptos wheel her out.

Gramma Alma parked in front of her, squeezed her arms. “Your father and I have decided that you will never ever please your mother, because she cannot be pleased by anyone, not you, not me, not your father, not even your brother. That’s her problem, not yours or ours, and it’s sad, because she misses out on so much. Follow your heart, dear Chicken Little. You please us all, more than you know.” Gramma walked out and Esther desperately wanted her to stay. But she couldn’t find the words to call her back. She couldn’t find any words at all. The panic was so intense she felt close to throwing up.

Ben took her arm, led her over to the chair at the table, pulled it out for her. She flopped into it, clunked both elbows on the table, and covered her face. She was sobbing, sort of, but it wasn’t really; it was continual shuddering. “Go away. Please.”

Chairs clunked as Ben sat down at her right. And there were Dr. Livingston and Dr. Ho sitting down, too. Meddlers.

“This was an intervention, wasn’t it.” She took a huge shuddering breath. “Isn’t that what they call it?”

Dr. Ho’s voice purred, gentle. “Not exactly, where people tell the subject how someone’s addiction or alcoholism has negatively impacted their lives. Basic idea, but we changed some things. Like, we know how crowds of people can induce anxiety in post-traumatic people, so we asked that they leave after.”

She raised her head. “In other words this was all carefully staged.”

“No, it wasn’t!” Dr. Livingston was emphatic almost to be the point of being angry. “We got them together, explained what post-traumatic stress is and how it has affected you, and asked them to say whatever was on their minds. Whatever was in their hearts. We didn’t know what they would say. No one was directed or coached, except for the leaving part.”

Dr. Ho smiled. “We are afraid you don’t realize what a positive force you are in this community, so we did this. And these people all care about you.”

“Did anyone tell you why—” She changed course. “About when this started?”

“Yes.” Dr. Ho was still smiling, compassion in his eyes. “Hit and run.”

She gasped. How…?

He grinned mischievously. “I talked to your brother and father. You claimed your car damage was caused by a deer, but deer don’t leave paint scuffs. They’re certain you hit another car.”

And rage welled up, burning away the confusion, the fear. Delicious rage. It burst out of her harder than she wanted it to. “So thank you so much, you just ruined my life! I was thinking of getting the full degree sometime. That’s not going to happen now. They won’t take a post-traumatic stress victim. And by the way, I would love to stay out of jail. That’s not going to happen now, either. Hit and run is a crime, maybe you heard, and you just announced it to the whole world!” Curious, her fury in some way was dissipating her terror.

Dr. Livingston nodded. “So you were going to get past this problem on your own, and when you were stable again, you’d go back to school. Is that it?”

When he said it, or maybe the way he said it, it seemed foolish. “Yeah. Yes, that’s what I was going to do. Except just a few weeks ago, I met the people I hit. Just by chance, a grandmother and a disabled boy. They were the people in the car I hit. Now I don’t know what…I just don’t know. I don’t have the money to help them or anything, but…I don’t know, but the boy was so…” And words failed her.

“So, in the intervening years, have you been recovering or getting worse?”

She crossed her arms on the table and dropped her forehead onto them. She was so sad and hopeless, she didn’t even feel like responding.

Dr. Livingston leaned toward her. “Let me tell you some things, Esther, true things. One, you can recover from this, but not the way you’re going about it. Two, this does not damage your chances to become a physician. Staying ill would. Three, I’ve discussed this with pretty good legal counsel, and this does not mean the end of the world or even jail time.”

“Legal counsel. I can’t afford a lawyer, at least not a hotshot.” She raised her head to study him a moment. “Who?”

“I’m married to her.”

And her brain went
zing
again. She felt hot tears coming. She didn’t want that. After she had worked desperately for so long to keep her past silent, the world knew her most horrible secrets. She didn’t want that. These powerful men controlled her life and she did not. She didn’t want that. The harder she tried to salvage the future, the worse things got. She most of all didn’t want that.