Silent Pledge

by Hannah Alexander

  Theodore allowed the steady cadence of Robert’s voice to calm him. Of course he was right. “You aren’t saying the test could be wrong, are you?”

  “No. Something is there. Ultrasound is not diagnostic enough in this situation.”

  “But it’s cancer.”

  “Theodore—”

  “Please, Robert.”

  “I want to do a biopsy immediately. It’s some form of cancer, but we don’t know what, or how to fight it yet. Having no previous films with which to compare, I have no idea of the rate of growth, but I do know that the sooner we attack it, the better your prognosis. Dr. Huffman can see you in Springfield tomorrow afternoon at three.”

  Theodore didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there.” But first he was going to do something even more difficult. He had to tell Mercy and Tedi about this.

  Thirty minutes after Mr. Bennett’s initial tests, the results were back, and Lukas studied them in relief. There was no evidence of an MI on the EKG, and the lab was normal except for an elevated glucose level of 215. The portable chest X-ray showed no obvious congestive heart failure.

  “I feel fine now, Dr. Bower,” the man said. “I told you, I’ve got to get out of here.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go,” Lukas said. “I’ve put a call in to a cardiologist at—”

  “No, you don’t understand.” Mr. Bennett reached down and started ripping lead patches from his hairy chest. “You’ve got to let me go. I’m not staying. I’m walking out of here.”

  “Leonard, stop it!” his wife protested, rushing to his side from the chair where she had been sitting. “You can’t leave here if the doctor doesn’t want you to go.”

  “Wanna bet?” He pulled the plastic oxygen tube from his nose. “If I start to feel bad again, I’ll come back. I’ll be good and dump the cigarettes and pour out the beer. I won’t run and play with my nieces and nephews. I’ll just watch from the house, but this is probably the last family reunion we’ll ever have, and I’m going to be there.” He reached for the IV.

  “No, don’t!” Lukas grabbed his hand to stop him. “You’ll bleed.”

  “Then take it off now.”

  “Okay, I will. Settle down, Mr. Bennett. I can’t force you to stay here against your will, but it’s definitely against my advice.”

  “Fine, let me sign out. I thought you said the lab and EKG looked good.”

  “EKG is only diagnostic in early heart attack about forty to fifty percent of the time, and it takes six hours for the lab to be positive for an MI. At best, this could be unstable angina, which can lead to a heart attack with no warning. I don’t think your family would want you to risk your life for a reunion.”

  “You don’t know anything about my family.” The statement was matter-of-fact, with no malice or anger. In fact, Mr. Bennett didn’t seem upset at all, just determined. “I missed the last two family reunions because I was too busy. My brothers complained, my mother was mad at me for six months, and this time I can’t miss it. Now, will you take that needle out of my arm?”

  Lukas did so reluctantly. “Okay, Mr. Bennett, but please come back and see us when the pain hits again. I don’t doubt that it will.”

  “Then you’ll be seeing me again.”

  Clarence sat in a deep funk, listening to the classical music and waiting for Delphi at the Richmond Clinic. It was a miracle he’d even been able to fit behind the steering wheel of Mercy’s car this afternoon. He’d gained two pounds! After all that suffering and starving and getting gas from high-fiber foods and exercising every time Ivy cracked the whip, he’d had nothing to show for it for two weeks. Nothing to prove he’d been good Saturday night and only eaten half a cookie on his food raid. Nothing to prove he’d choked down so many oats for breakfast and salads for lunch he should be growing a mane and tail and whinnying like a horse—or braying like a Missouri mule.

  Mercy had reassured him that he’d hit a plateau and he just needed to keep working until he pushed through to the next level. She also reminded him that he’d already lost nearly a hundred pounds of actual fat, and that progress had taken less than a year—in fact, the majority of his weight had come off in the past three months. That helped some. But he wished she would leak that news to the teenager who sat at the other end of the waiting room staring at him and snickering and jabbing his buddy, or the old woman with the pinched lips and eyes the shade of dog droppings who had moved to another chair when he sat down next to her. This was why he hated going out in public.

  He could only blame himself. He was the one who’d stuffed the food in his own mouth, and he wasn’t going to whine and say “not my fault” and play the victim game like so many others did.

  The waiting-room door opened, and Clarence looked up automatically to see a big hulk of a man shadowed in the threshold. He had stringy hair that fell into muddy, bloodshot eyes and at least three days of beard on his face. Cold air breezed in through the entrance, but he took his time and studied the room before he stepped on in and closed the door behind him. Then he looked at Clarence.

  Clarence shivered. It had to be the cold air. What he felt couldn’t be from the lifeless, soulless look in the man’s face, or the way he seemed to stare right through Clarence into the wall behind him. The man gazed around the room again, then sat down in one of the chairs near the entrance. He didn’t even walk over to the window to tell Loretta he was here.

  The smart-aleck teenager cracked another job to his friend, and the two of them snickered. The telephone buzzed at the secretary’s desk. The waiting continued.

  Clarence shifted uncomfortably in his dinky chair, glad these didn’t have arms on them. He’d gotten stuck in a chair like that one time. Nearly tore his pants off getting out of it. He could imagine the attention that would draw from this crowd. And what if this weight gain wasn’t just a plateau? What if he gained the whole hundred pounds back again, or even more? Then he wouldn’t fit into any chair. He could get so big, Buck would have to haul him in the back of his pickup truck to get him anywhere.

  What was Ivy going to say when she found out he’d gained two whole pounds? Would she preach a sermon? Threaten to stop baking chocolate chip cookies? Put a pedometer on the treadmill so she could keep track of how far he walked each day? This was turning out to be a rotten day.

  “Your elbow looks good,” Mercy assured Delphi as she pulled the sleeve of the pink cotton sweater back down. “So does this bruising around your eye. A little makeup will cover the chartreuse skin until it clears.” She gently pressed the cheekbone. “Any pain?”

  Delphi didn’t wince. “Not much.”

  “That doesn’t tell me a lot,” Mercy teased. “You have a high pain tolerance. I had a friend like that when I was in school. Jackie fell on the ice and broke her shoulder and never went to the doctor to check it out. She just thought she’d pulled some muscles, and that the pain would go away. Six months later she went on a canoe trip with some friends. About ten miles downriver, she came to the obvious, painful realization that something was still wrong with her shoulder. When she finally did have it X-rayed, there was so much damage it took a long time to heal, and she had to have physical therapy for several months.” After a short pause, Mercy touched Delphi’s shoulder until they had eye contact. “Jackie would have been a lot better off if she’d asked for help as soon as she fell and hurt herself. All of us need to ask for help from time to time.”

  Delphi looked away. “You’ve helped me, Dr. Mercy. Like you said, I’m okay now.”

  “Physically, you’re fine. I’m not concerned about that. What I am concerned about is the rest of your life.” Mercy walked over and picked up a business card she had received recently. “The day the police brought you in here last week, I told you about Crosslines.” She handed the card to Delphi. “You were pretty drugged, so I doubt you remember me mentioning it. A couple by the name of Arthur and Alma Collins run it. They were missionaries in Mexico until last fall, when they were hit by a car. Alma lost her leg. T
hey’ve been in Springfield this past week, while she’s been going through therapy so she can be fitted for a prosthesis.”

  Delphi studied the card as if it were a poisonous spider. “What’s that got to do with me?”

  Mercy sat down on her stool and looked up at Delphi. “They can help you. Have you given any thought about what you’re going to do for the rest of your life?”

  Delphi shrugged. “I guess I’ll see if Clarence can give me a ride out of town someplace. I can’t stay here, not with Abner around.”

  “And you expect Clarence to just dump you in another town with a bunch of strangers? I’m sorry, but that isn’t an option.” Mercy realized her voice was suddenly sharp, impatient. She sighed. The subject of Abner brought up old feelings of frustration. “I know I’ve asked this many times before, but if you would just admit to the police—”

  “No.” Delphi slid down from the exam bed and reached for the thick, soft green jacket Ivy had given her several days ago. “It won’t do any good, just make Abner mad. They can’t stop him, Dr. Mercy.” She pulled the jacket on carefully, as if her elbow still felt a little stiff. “Guess I’d better get out of here, or Clarence will get tired of waiting.”

  “What about Crosslines?” Mercy followed her patient out into the hallway.

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it,” Delphi called over her shoulder as she reached for the knob of the dividing door between the treatment rooms and the waiting room. She pulled the door open and stopped with a jerk in the threshold. She cried out and stumbled backward, and Mercy saw terror in her eyes.

  Abner Bell stood at the other side of the threshold.

  “No, get away from me!” Delphi swung around and ran past Mercy, thrusting her sideways in desperation.

  “Delphi!” Abner grated. “Get back here! I’m just going to talk to you.” He lunged after her, but Mercy stepped in the way, which made him hesitate.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, buster!” Clarence came hurtling through the doorway after him.

  The man rounded on Clarence with an elbow and smacked him in the shoulder, but instead of letting go, Clarence shoved forward with the force of his whole body, knocking the air from Abner’s lungs in a grunt. Someone in the waiting room screamed.

  “Call the police!” Clarence yelled. “Somebody call the police!”

  Abner twisted away with a frantic motion, stumbled away from Clarence, turned and fled out the front.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  At six-thirty Tuesday night Mercy turned out all but the security lights in the office and switched on the answering machine. Clarence would be here any moment to pick her up.

  Poor Clarence. After Delphi panicked and ran out the back entrance to the clinic, he went in search of her, driving up and down the streets and alleys in Mercy’s car, blaming himself because he’d allowed Abner to get close to her. But who would have expected Abner to be so bold? Clarence hadn’t even known what the man looked like. The police had come, taken statements, and finally admitted there wasn’t a lot they could do, since Delphi had never filed a complaint. Abner hadn’t attacked anyone except Clarence, and it could be argued that was self-defense. He hadn’t even threatened anyone. And he had disappeared before the police arrived.

  But how had he known Delphi was here? Had he been lurking somewhere nearby, watching the clinic? A quick check this afternoon revealed he hadn’t been to work at the iron foundry in a week and a half; therefore, Abner was no longer employed.

  Shivering, Mercy rechecked the front door to make sure it was locked while she waited. She stepped over to the front window to stare past the glare of her reflection into the evening sky. In late January it was always dark when she left the clinic, even when she finished on time. The moon was high in the sky, and a scattering of the brightest stars were visible in spite of the streetlamps and the glow of the hospital lights a block away.

  Her gaze shifted to the shadowed forms of the E.R. construction workers who hammered and welded and climbed ladders with masculine precision, their silhouettes coalescing and mingling in the floodlights that surrounded them.

  Three months ago Mercy had stared out this window at a very different view as fire burst from those walls and threatened to consume Lukas Bower, Estelle Pinkley and a host of others who were caught in its embrace. When her anguish had become too great for her to bear, she had learned, at last, with Alma’s gentle guidance, to place control into the hands of Someone infinitely more powerful than she. Soon afterward she had placed her whole life in His hands.

  So why, in the past few weeks, couldn’t she leave control with Him? Why did she continue to worry? Where was the peace she remembered claiming as her own?

  Another shadow moved into her vision, striding across the parking lot to the sidewalk in front of the clinic, and she gasped and retreated into the darkness. It wasn’t Clarence. With quickened breathing she watched his movements, unable to forget the image of Abner in this office today, or of Delphi’s desperate flight.

  But it wasn’t Abner. As the man came closer, Mercy recognized Theodore’s tall form, his clean-shaven face and short blond hair backlit by the streetlights. His ears were bare to the cold, his hands jammed into the pockets of his coat. He slowed and stopped halfway to the clinic door, obviously noticing that no cars were parked nearby. In appearance, the Richmond Clinic was quiet for the night.

  His shoulders slumped forward and his head bowed. The glow of lights from behind him etched the outline of the even features of his face, and for a moment she thought he was crying. But it must be a trick of the shadows. What would Theo have to cry about?

  Mercy couldn’t prevent the concern that compelled her to unlock the door and step out into the chill air. “Theodore?”

  She heard him catch his breath. He stiffened, then looked across at her. He straightened his shoulders and stepped toward her. “Mercy.”

  “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  After a brief pause, he said, “I heard about the excitement you had over here today, and I thought I’d stroll over and have a look around, make sure everything was okay.” There was tension in his voice. “Where’s your car?”

  “Clarence has it. He’s supposed to pick me up. You heard about Abner?”

  “It’s all over town. I heard about what happened at the print shop a couple of hours ago.” He took another step forward. “I was worried, Mercy.”

  She smiled up at him. “Come inside out of the cold until Clarence gets here, then we can take you home. You walked all the way across town to make sure I was okay? That’s very sweet of you, but wouldn’t it have been easier to call?”

  He didn’t answer as he followed her into the clinic and closed the door behind them. He sighed and turned distractedly to look around the dimly lit waiting room, and the scent of ink and solvent from the print shop mingled with the antiseptic smells of the clinic.

  “You can relax,” Mercy said. “We’re the only ones here, and the burglar alarm is in place except for the front door. Bill Peterson will try to patrol the area every hour or so, but there’s no reason for Abner to return to an empty clinic. He’s looking for his wife.”

  Theo nodded and turned back to her, still obviously distracted. Mercy watched him curiously. He’d behaved the same way last Saturday at lunch.

  “Theodore, something else is wrong. What is it?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and shook his head. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Could you and Tedi meet me for lunch at Little Mary’s tomorrow?”

  When she hesitated, he said, “Please, Mercy, I need to talk to you. I—” He broke off and turned away from her to look out the window.

  “Okay,” she said slowly. “What’s going on?”

  “I have cancer.”

  He remained standing with his back to her, and she saw the sudden jerk of his shoulders, as if from a sob. And they jerked again, and again. There was a quick gasp, and he dipped his head and raised a hand to his face. M
ercy felt the shock of his words race through her like a jolt of electricity. For a moment she couldn’t think, and before she could gather her wits to reply, she saw headlights coming down the street. The outline of her car was highlighted by the spillover glow from the hospital. Clarence was coming to pick her up.

  Theodore sniffed and straightened, making an obvious effort to control his emotions. “Robert Simeon did an alpha-fetoprotein test. The numbers were high. An ultrasound shows a mass in my liver. I’m going in for a liver biopsy tomorrow afternoon.”

  Mercy felt the sadness and shock wash over her, as if he were already dead, and the reaction surprised her. “Hepatocellular carcinoma?”

  “That’s what Robert thinks.” There was a long pause as they watched Clarence pull into the drive to the right of the clinic. He stopped the car and turned off the headlights. The interior light came on. He opened the door and heaved his huge bulk from the seat.

  “I tested positive for hepatitis B,” Theodore said. “Robert says the disease must be chronic.” He turned to Mercy then. “I went in for a comprehensive blood test two weeks ago, because I wanted to be sure…I thought if you and I were to…if there was ever a chance for remarriage, I didn’t want to infect you with…” He hung his head. “All the affairs…”

  Quick tears of pity and pain stung her eyes. “Oh, Theodore,” she breathed.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I wish I could make those years up to Tedi, but I think I’m running out of time.”

  “No. Stop talking like that.” Past the outline of his shoulder, she saw Clarence lumbering up the walk. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many reassurances she wanted to give him, the same she would give to one of her own patients—there was hope, they could fight this, it didn’t mean he was going to die—but she knew he needed privacy to talk about the cancer, and Clarence was reaching for the door and turning the knob.