He heard the sudden, throttling racket of a motorcycle a few blocks behind him, loud in the morning stillness. The sound echoed from the trees and two-story shops in downtown Herald. Other engines joined in and revved, and then a cacophony vibrated through the air. Obviously Catcher and his crew were roaring out of the café parking lot. What would motivate grown men and women to freeze themselves to death in this cold winter atmosphere? Was this a macho thing, survival of the toughest?
Lukas plodded on. He really wanted to get to Knolls tonight. In spite of yesterday’s ice storm, the temperature was probably about twenty degrees warmer, the people were friendlier and Mercy was there…and as far as he knew, no innocent little children had disappeared from Knolls into the hands of some kidnapper.
The racket of the motorcycles grew louder. They were staying in the old apartments down by the hospital, in the same direction Lukas was walking, and until now he hadn’t considered the fact that they would come this way.
Get a grip, Lukas. They’re just out for breakfast. He was frustrated by the anxiety the bikers provoked in him. At five feet ten and one hundred sixty pounds he was more accustomed to using his brains than his brawn, but back in college in Columbia he’d formed a habit of working out on weights between homework assignments, and he’d taken up jogging and hiking. He hadn’t lost all the muscle to age yet, but he hated the idea of personal, physical confrontation. He always had. Too many bad experiences. Hiking in the woods never bothered him, because he knew the real monsters in this world wore clothing and spoke the human language and drove cars. Or motorcycles…
Catcher and crew drew closer, their engines jarring the peaceful quiet of a slumbering town that didn’t know what rush-hour traffic looked like or how much noise pollution it entailed.
A shout rang out—it sounded like Catcher’s rough voice—and the motorcycles downshifted, grew louder, slowed. Lukas tried not to automatically increase his speed. Funny, last fall he’d run through a burning, collapsing building, and his heart didn’t beat as hard and fast as it was now.
“Hey, Doc!” Catcher shouted over the din of his idling motor.
Lukas slowed his steps and turned to watch them approach.
“Hop on,” came Catcher’s raspy voice.
“What?”
“You need a ride, don’t you? One of the farmers back at that greasy spoon said you were having trouble with your Jeep. Probably your battery in this cold air. Hop on, and I’ll give you a lift to work.”
Lukas couldn’t move, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. The man sounded serious. His buddies sat astride their bikes with motors idling, watching Lukas cautiously, as if he would be crazy not to accept the offer of transportation aboard a death machine on wheels.
“Don’t hurt my feelings, Doc,” Catcher warned. He revved the motor and grinned, his straight, white teeth shining in the early light. “What’s wrong, never ridden a real one before?”
“Never.” He’d just treated patients who’d ridden the real ones. That was enough for him.
“Come on. After Saturday night I owe you.” Catcher reached down into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a familiar set of keys. “Besides, you left these behind in the Jeep.”
Lukas sighed in defeat and eyed the offending ignition key. Just great. Cold air and frustration had obviously affected his brain. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the bike—after all, riding with Catcher would get him there faster. And he really needed to get there this morning. But what if they hit a slick spot?
“What damage could a mile on a Harley do?” Catcher asked. “And who’s going to take care of your patients if you’re not there?”
The man had a point. Dr. Denton had left the E.R. unattended yesterday when Lukas was only five minutes late for work. He would have no compunction about leaving on time for his flight this morning. And Catcher looked sane enough—for a man whose bruised eyes matched his black leather jacket.
Without giving himself a chance to back out, Lukas took another step forward. “Thanks, Catcher, that’s kind of you. Just tell me how to get on this thing.”
It was simple. All he had to do was sit there huddled behind the biker’s broad shoulders and try not to scream as the icy air froze his bare face and ears into a solid mass of fleshsicle and the rumble of the motor deafened him and tears blinded him. He didn’t have time to wonder what would happen if they hit an icy patch and crashed on the blacktop.
They were just pulling into the hospital E.R. entrance when he realized he wasn’t wearing a helmet. An emergency-room physician not wearing a helmet.
And it wasn’t until after he’d thanked the men and watched them leave that he realized Catcher hadn’t returned the keys to his Jeep.
Mercy parked in front of Jack’s Print shop across from the courthouse on the square. She could have called, but somehow a personal visit for something like this seemed more compassionate. She saw Theodore as soon as she stepped into the shop. He was setting up letters in an old-fashioned printer on display in the front window. A huge gray metal wheel turned at the side, and Theo made a test print and intently checked his work, unaware, for a moment, of Mercy’s presence. He was obviously enjoying himself. He should have left the real estate business years ago—probably shouldn’t have pursued that career in the first place—but when they first got married, he thought he could make enough to retain his pride when Mercy started bringing in a physician’s income.
Somehow, nothing had worked out the way either of them had hoped.
As she studied his intent expression, she felt a rush of sympathy for him. He was trying so hard to please her, to regain Tedi’s love—and he really had changed. His heart was more tender. He laughed more. If she hadn’t known him from the past, she would think he was a good, kind man.
But didn’t that mean he was a good, kind man now? Where was her faith? Why did she find it so difficult to believe that God could clean the darkest, ugliest human failures—the sins?
He looked up suddenly, as if realizing someone was watching him. When he saw her, the shadowed lines of concentration smoothed out, and a warm smile spread to his hairline. He dropped an ink-stained rag and came toward her.
“Mercy! You’re out early this morning. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in here.” He held his hands out, indicating the red and blue ink not only on them, but also on a work apron that covered him from chest to knees. “I guess you can see I really get into it. What brings you out of the clinic? I thought you would be buried alive today.”
She glanced toward the rear of the shop, where five other employees—and big, handsome, sixty-eight-year-old Jack himself—were busy collating, stapling and typesetting.
She turned back to Theo. “I just needed to talk with you for a moment.”
The smile gradually filtered from Theo’s eyes. “Something’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’ll be going with you and Tedi for lunch Saturday.” She kept her voice light, and for a few seconds his smile returned and an expression of hope touched his eyes.
Then he thought about what she’d just said, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh.” For a moment he didn’t speak but closed his eyes and bent his head. “She’s still afraid of me.”
“She’s trying, Theodore. It’s going to take time.” She was sorry for his sudden misery, and she reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should take a Saturday soon and drive to Branson. I can’t do it for a while, but it’s something we could plan to do in the future.”
He straightened and glanced at her hand, which continued to rest on his arm. Then he looked into her face. “I’d like that. Thanks, Mercy.”
Stepping back outside into the frigid air, Mercy walked a few steps along the freshly de-iced sidewalk with her head down, guilt churning inside her as she struggled to dismiss the vision of heartache she’d seen in Theo’s expression. He was trying so hard.
“Now that’s what I call true Christian spirit,” came a v
oice from behind her.
Mercy turned to see Mrs. Alice Eckard walking toward her, her heavily lined face pink from the cold. Mrs. Eckard was an old friend of Mom’s from church. She had obviously just stepped out of Gaylene’s Pharmacy, next door to the print shop, and carried her small bag of prescription medications in her hand.
“Hello, Alice. I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I saw you in there talking to Theodore.” Alice pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck and sidled closer to Mercy. “Isn’t it amazing what God can do with us when we’ll let Him? I’ve never seen such a turnaround in a man’s life. Your daughter is so lucky to have parents who are willing to work things out. Some of our older Christians could take lessons from you.”
“Thank you, but that isn’t—”
“Just think of the power and joy we would have in our own church if we were as open as you are to reconciliation!” She reached out and patted Mercy on the arm. “Well, I’ve got to get out of this cold. See you in church Sunday, darlin’!” She gave Mercy a thumbs-up and hurried away.
The mad stapler had struck again. Lukas stood at the side of the call-room bed as he took off his jacket and tried to thaw out from his motorcycle ride. He found a pamphlet on drug interaction stapled shut, lying on the desk. He found the trash can turned upside down on the unmade bed, with at least a week’s worth of trash accumulated so that wadded paper and empty food containers spilled to the floor. Lukas gathered the trash and stuffed it back into the can, then set it outside the door with a thud. Obviously housekeeping hadn’t been here in a while. Maybe Amos had fired them, too.
He walked into the E.R. proper and checked the schedule over the secretary’s desk. Alexis had been the night nurse, and Carmen had been the secretary. Brandon—or in Tex’s vernacular, “Godzilla”—had been the lab/X-ray tech. According to records that had not yet left the department, they’d had ten patients early in the evening. That meant a light night, with plenty of time for Dr. Denton to sleep…which meant he’d probably slept almost until shift change…which meant the stapler-toting trash dumper would have had very little time between shifts to complete the nefarious deeds.
“Not again!” The exclamation came from behind him, and he turned to find Tex striding toward him, a long, muscular arm raised toward the entrance. “Would you look at that? Another worker’s comp.”
Lukas looked over to see a man helping a woman through the E.R. entrance. The man was Mr. Gray, from Johnson’s Poultry. To Lukas’s surprise, fiftysomething, balding Mr. Gray held the attractive young woman by the arm and spoke with her softly. Instead of the traditional garb of the poultry-line worker—stained clothing, rubber boots and a hair net—she wore tight jeans and a formfitting blue sweater.
“You’d think they would get a clue and slow those lines down,” Tex muttered as she picked up a clipboard from her desk. “But no, they’d lose too much money that way. Who cares about the workers? This town is filled with disposable people.”
“Then why do you stay here?”
“Because I have a job here. Got to make a living. Mom’s illness and funeral left me with a lot of debt, and I’m an only child. Who else is going to pay?”
They watched in silence as Shirley checked in the patient. When the patient gave her name—Yvonne Barrett—the secretary fell silent.
Tex gasped and stiffened beside Lukas. The clipboard in her hand clattered to the desk. She stared at the woman in outraged shock, then turned to Lukas, the strong, well-defined features of her face drawn into an angry scowl. “Do you know who that is?” she hissed.
The name sounded slightly familiar. Yvonne…wasn’t that—
“That’s the woman! She’s the one! I can’t believe she had the guts to come in here after what she’s done.”
“What woman? Calm down! And lower your voice.”
Tex crossed her arms over her chest and glared toward the front. “She’s the one who helped Mr. Amos and that nurse frame Hershel. She’s the one who accused him of ‘unprofessional conduct.’ I’d like to show her unprofessional conduct with my fist.”
“Stop it,” Lukas snapped. “You’re the one who’s behaving unprofessionally. Am I going to have to call the floor nurse to trade places with you while I see this patient?”
“No way! You’re not getting out of my sight. What if this is a setup? You’ve already had your run-ins with Mr. Amos. Maybe he sent her here to frame you, too.”
Lukas couldn’t prevent a momentary doubt. Surely nobody was that stupid. Still, he needed to be cautious. “Calm down and treat her as you would any other patient. Do the assessment, Tex, then call me.”
“Do I have to be nice?”
“No nicer than usual.”
She relaxed. “Okay, Dr. Bower.” She turned to carry out her task.
“And, Tex?” Lukas called to her.
She stopped and turned back.
He smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“Don’t know what we’d’ve done without you, Dr. Mercy. You’re a real angel, I tell you.” Odira’s voice once again echoed loudly and deeply enough to damage eardrums, and Mercy felt a glow of satisfaction as she pulled her all-wheel-drive car next to the ice-free space in front of the tiny apartment where Odira and Crystal lived.
Crystal sat in the backseat with her new medication dispenser in her hands. On the ride from the hospital she had flipped up the lid of each small container, called out the day of the week and the time of day on the label, then snapped the lid back down with a click that seemed to satisfy her. She did this several times, never smiling, always serious. She had flipped each of the twenty-one lids at least three times while Odira had talked and laughed and beamed at her with maternal pride.
These were some of the times Mercy lived for. She was glad she’d kept them in Knolls, where friends could visit and where Mercy could be nearby to reassure them.
She got out of the car and walked with them to the apartment. “Now, Odira, no skipping doses on those pills.” She waited until Odira unlocked the front door.
“You got that right, Dr. Mercy. I don’t want to take a chance on getting down sick and not being able to take care of my gal.” She patted Crystal on the shoulder and held the door open for her to step inside first. “We’re both going to take our pills like we’re supposed to. Ain’t that right, Crystal Lee?”
“Yes, Gramma.”
“And if you run out,” Mercy added, “you will call and let me know?”
“Sure will, Dr. Mercy. We’ll be good from now on. We promise.”
Mercy said goodbye and left before they could notice the groceries stocked away in the refrigerator and the cupboards. What she had brought would be enough to keep them for a while.
Yvonne Barrett, the pretty line worker from Johnson’s Poultry, had a fresh bruise on her right temple caused by a fall into a freezer rack. According to Tex’s assessment, the woman’s vitals were normal. Lukas resisted the urge to check Yvonne’s arm and see if Tex might have set the cuff a little tight for the blood pressure reading. In spite of her bluster, Tex was a professional.
But she was also a good bodyguard. She stood as close to Lukas as she could get without impeding his movements, and she watched every move the woman made.
“They take those lines too fast,” Yvonne complained. She didn’t seem to notice Tex’s overprotective stance. “I was racking chicken halves. Those things just kept coming at me, faster and faster, and some were falling on the floor. That really puts the boss in a bad mood. I’m suppose to have help, but we’re shorthanded right now. I tried to keep up, but I couldn’t. I got weaker and weaker and just passed out cold. My line boss didn’t want me to say anything about what happened, but then she saw the bruise and decided she’d better cover her backside. Accidents like this happen all the time, don’t they, Mr. Gray?”
The safety director sat in a chair at the far end of the exam cubicle. At the sudden attention from the other three people in the room,
he shifted uncomfortably, turned pink, cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t say all the time.”
“I would,” Tex said. “Mr. Gray, everybody on staff knows you by name you’re here so often. All those accidents can’t be employee error. There aren’t that many clumsy people in the whole state, and someday OSHA’s going to realize Herald is on the map, and they’ll check you out. They’ll be after your blood. Then who’ll be in the hot seat?”
“It isn’t that easy,” Gray said. “You’ve never worked in a place like that.”
“Oh, yes, I have, and so did my mom. It’s just too bad nobody but my mom had the guts to speak out about it, because then she wouldn’t have lost her job.”
“Tex, I need you to take orders to the secretary.” Lukas needed to stop this freight train before it derailed.
Tex looked at him, then looked at Yvonne, and her thick, arched brows drew together in the center. “Uh, Dr. Bower, I can’t do that right now.”
Lukas gave the others an embarrassed glance, then excused himself and walked out with Tex. “Look, I appreciate your concern for my reputation,” he murmured in her ear. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“You don’t know what that woman might do.”
“I know how to take care of myself, Tex. I’ve learned the hard way. I will do nothing to make the young lady think I’m anything but an ethical physician.”
“Lady? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Lukas stopped and turned to face her. “You don’t know for sure what went on behind that curtain. Few people do. You don’t appreciate hearing other staff members blame him for the incident with Yvonne, but what if she’s innocent? You’ve got to look at this situation from both sides. You’re getting too emotionally involved.”
She glared at him.
“Orders.” Lukas pointed to the secretary. “She’s waiting.”
Silent Pledge Page 21
