by Sandra Brown
“As usual, you two are taking sides against me.” Darcy angrily pushed her plate aside.
“Sides?” Fergus asked, bewildered. “I didn’t know we were choosing up sides over this. What’s it got to do with us?”
“Not a damn thing,” Darcy snapped. “I just fail to see what makes Lara Mallory such a bloody heroine in Heather’s eyes.”
“May I be excused?” Heather asked in a bored voice.
“You may not! You haven’t eaten a bite.”
“I’m not hungry. Besides, this casserole is gross. It reeks with fat.”
“I should have been so lucky to have a maid cook dinner for me when I was your age!”
“Oh, please.” Here we go, Heather thought—another sob story about Mother’s deprived childhood.
“She shouldn’t have to eat it if she isn’t hungry,” Fergus said.
“Naturally, you let her have her way.”
“Thanks, Daddy. Tanner and I will get something later.”
“You’re going out with Tanner again tonight?” Fergus asked.
“Of course.” Heather looked at her mother and smiled smugly. “We’re officially together now.”
“Together?”
“Going steady,” Darcy clarified impatiently, never taking her eyes off Heather. “I can’t say I’m thrilled about it.”
Heather, holding her mother’s stare, took another sip of tea. Putting her on birth control pills had been Darcy’s doing, but Heather was getting back. She seized every opportunity to remind her mother that whenever she and Tanner went out on a date, they could have sex without suffering any consequences.
Darcy couldn’t say anything to her, especially in front of Fergus. He still didn’t know about the contraceptives and would have raised hell with Darcy for encouraging them. He clung to the quaint notion that morality was a deterrent to premarital sex.
Heather took pleasure in keeping her mother perpetually miffed. Her sidelong glances and innuendoes conveyed that she was now sexually active. But she hadn’t let Tanner go all the way yet. It wasn’t because she didn’t love him, or that she feared an unwanted pregnancy, and there certainly was nothing to fear in the way of parental reprisal.
Her reason for holding out was the same as it always had been. She didn’t want to become a replica of her mother.
Tanner was being very sweet about her abstinence. Since that night at the lake when he had disgraced himself, he was loving and patient, gratefully taking whatever crumbs of eroticism she chose to toss him and asking for nothing more.
Heather was still Fergus’s little angel, and when she was with him she strove to maintain his image of her. Her relationship with her mother, however, had deteriorated. They were undeclared adversaries, two women in a silent face-off. The battle lines that had been suggested before were now clearly drawn.
“I didn’t realize that you’d made Dr. Mallory an idol, Heather,” Fergus observed as he stirred sugar into his coffee. “I didn’t even know you’d met her.”
“Mother took me to see her. Didn’t she tell you?”
“For a checkup,” Darcy said hastily. “She needed a physical exam for cheerleading, and it was going to be a month before she could see an out-of-town doctor. I decided it was silly to shun Dr. Mallory just because she was involved with Clark Tackett at one time. Who cares? It’s ancient history. Besides, an enemy of Jody Tackett’s is a friend of yours, right?”
“I must say Dr. Mallory showed a lot of gumption by moving to Eden Pass in the first place. She shoots straight from the hip, too. I like that.”
“When have you talked to her?” Darcy wanted to know.
“Yesterday. She called me and asked for an audience with the school board. She wants to speak to the high school kids about sexual responsibility. I think the idea is a little bit radical for Eden Pass, but I told her we’d hear her ideas at the meeting next week.”
For several moments Darcy regarded him without comment. “You’re right, Fergus. She’s got her nerve. She was caught in adultery. How sexually irresponsible can you get?”
“She emphasized that she wasn’t concerned with the moral aspects. She only wants to alert the kids to the health risks involved.”
“I doubt that’ll go down well with the local preachers. And don’t be so sure that morality doesn’t figure in there somewhere. Lax morality, that is. She told Heather to make sure she always had a condom handy.”
“That’s not what she said!” Heather exclaimed.
“Same as,” Darcy said curtly. “Before we know it, the kids at the high school will start packing rubbers in their lunch boxes and having quickies between classes.”
“Darcy, please!” Fergus harrumphed. “Heather shouldn’t be listening to this.”
“Wake up and smell the coffee, Fergus. Kids nowadays know all about everything. Once Lara Mallory gives them the green light, they’ll be screwing like rabbits.”
Fergus flinched. “She’s not going to encourage them to have sex. She wants to warn them of the possible consequences.”
“Oh, brother! She really snowed you, didn’t she? What I think she wants is an outbreak of teenage pregnancies in order to drum up some much-needed business.”
“That’s ridiculous, Mother.”
“Shut up, Heather! I’m talking to your father.”
“But you’re twisting Dr. Mallory’s words around. It’s not fair.”
“This is an adult conversation, and no one invited you to join in.”
At that moment Heather hated her mother and wanted badly to expose her hypocrisy. But her love for her father guaranteed her silence. Darcy knew that and used it. She was the one now wearing the smug smile. Heather scraped back her chair and flounced from the dining room.
On her way out she heard her mother say, “Go ahead and grant Dr. Mallory an audience with the school board, Fergus. It’ll be fun to sit back and watch the fur fly.”
“I thought I’d… I probably shouldn’t have come.” Now that she was standing on the front porch of Lara Mallory’s clinic, spotlighted by the overhead light fixture, Janellen felt like a fool. It wouldn’t surprise her if the doctor slammed the door in her face. She wouldn’t blame her, either.
“I’m glad you came, Miss Tackett. Come in.”
Janellen stepped into the dim waiting room and glanced around. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”
“Quite all right. How is your mother?”
“Not too well. That’s what I came to talk to you about.”
Lara indicated the hallway that led to the rear of the building. With Janellen behind her, she moved out of the clinic and into her private living quarters.
“I was having a glass of wine. Will you join me?”
They entered a cozy den where magazines were scattered over tabletops and scented candles flickered in votives. The TV was tuned to a cable station that broadcast classic movies. The one currently being shown was in black and white.
“I’m a fan of old movies,” Lara said with a self-deprecating smile. “Maybe because they usually have happy endings.” She used the remote control to turn off the set. “Chablis is all I have. Is that all right?”
“I’d rather have a soft drink.”
“Diet Coke?”
“Fine.”
While Lara was getting her drink from the kitchen, Janellen stood as though rooted to the floor in the center of the room. She had invaded the enemy camp, but it was certainly a comfortable place. Two walls of the room were lined with bookshelves. Most of the reading material was related to medicine, but there was also a collection of hardcover and paperback fiction. Over the fireplace, where once had hung the stuffed head of a ten-point buck, there was now an Andrew Wyeth print. On the sofa table stood a silver-framed photograph of a baby girl.
“My daughter.”
Janellen jumped at the sound of Lara’s voice as she reentered the room carrying an icy glass of soda. “Her name was Ashley. She was killed in Montesangre.”
�
��Yes, I know. I’m sorry. She was a beautiful child.”
Lara nodded. “I have only two photographs of her. That one and another in my office. I have those because I reclaimed them from my parents. None of our personal effects were ever recovered from Montesangre. I wish I had something of Ashley’s. Her teething ring. Her teddy bear. Her christening gown. Something.” She shook her head slightly. “Please, sit down, Miss Tackett.”
Janellen gingerly lowered herself onto the sofa. Lara sat in the easy chair she’d obviously been occupying when her doorbell rang. There was a crocheted afghan bunched up on the hassock in front of the chair and a glass of white wine stood on the end table.
“Is your mother in the hospital?”
Janellen shook her head.
“No?” That was obviously not the answer she had expected. “I thought for certain her condition would require at least one night in the hospital.”
“She should be hospitalized.” Janellen felt herself on the verge of tears. She picked at the cocktail napkin wrapped around the glass of soda. “I came because… because I wanted to hear what you had to say. You were there during my mother’s seizure. I’d like to know your professional opinion of it.”
“Your mother certainly didn’t.”
“I’m sorry about the way she behaved toward you, Dr. Mallory,” Janellen said earnestly. “And if you ask me to leave, I’ll understand.”
“Why would I do that? I don’t hold you responsible for what your mother said and did.”
“Then please give me your opinion of her illness.”
“It’s unethical for me to second-guess another doctor’s diagnosis when I haven’t even examined the patient.”
“Please. I need to talk to somebody about this, and there’s no one.”
“What about your brother?”
“He’s upset.”
“So are you.”
“Yes, but when Key gets upset or worried, he…” She lowered her eyes to the glass in her hand. “Let’s just say he’s currently unavailable. Please, Dr. Mallory, give me your opinion.”
“Based strictly on what I saw?”
Janellen nodded.
“With the full understanding that I could be incorrect?”
Again Janellen nodded.
Lara took a sip of wine. Looking toward the portrait of her daughter, she pulled in a deep breath, then released it slowly. Her eyes moved back to Janellen. “What treatment did your mother receive at the county hospital?”
“They examined her in the emergency room, but she refused to be admitted.”
“That was foolish of her. Were you given a diagnosis?”
“The doctor said she’d had a mild stroke.”
“I concur. Did they do a complete blood work?”
“Yes. She was prescribed medication that’s supposed to thin her blood. Is that what you would recommend?”
“Along with extensive tests and observation. Did they do an EKG?”
“The heart thing?” Lara nodded. “No. They recommended it, but she wouldn’t stay that long.”
“Was a brain scan done?”
“Yes, but only after Key threatened to tie her down if she didn’t consent. The doctor said he didn’t find any significant cerebral infarction.” She tried to quote him precisely. “I’m not certain what that means.”
“It means that your mother has no significant amount of dead brain tissue due to a loss of blood supply. Which is good. However, that doesn’t mean that the blood to her brain isn’t being interrupted or completely blocked. Did he suggest doing sound wave tests on the carotid artery? They’re called Doppler studies.”
“I’m not sure.” Janellen rubbed her temple. “He was talking so fast, and Mama was complaining so loudly, and—”
“These tests would determine if there’s an obstruction in the artery. If there is, and the blockage isn’t eliminated, there’s a very good possibility for infarction, resulting in permanent disability or even death.”
“That’s what they said, too,” Janellen said hoarsely. “Something like that.”
“No angiogram to see where the blockage might be?”
“Mama refused that. She ranted and raved and said she’d had a dizzy spell and that’s all there was to it. Said she only needed to go home and rest.”
“Did the impairment to her speech and muscle control last very long?”
“By the time we got her home, you couldn’t tell anything had happened.”
“That quick recovery fools patients into believing they’ve suffered only a dizzy spell.” Lara leaned forward. “Does your mother frequently forget things? Does she sometimes have blurred vision?”
She told the doctor what she had shared with Key a few weeks earlier. “She never admits to any of this, but the spells have gotten noticeable. I tried persuading her to see a doctor, but she refused. I think she’s afraid of what she’ll hear.”
“I can’t be certain without examining her,” Lara said, “but I think she’s experiencing what we call TIAs, which stands for transient ischemic attacks. ‘Ischemia’ refers to insufficient blood circulation.”
“I’m following you so far.”
“When one of these occurs, it interrupts the blood supply to the brain. It’s like an electrical blackout. The part of the brain that’s affected is turned off. The dementia you described, blurred vision, slurred speech, and the dizziness are all symptoms, warning signals. If they’re not heeded, the patient can suffer a major stroke. Today was probably the strongest warning yet. Has she complained of numbness in her extremities?”
“Not to me, but she wouldn’t.”
“Does she have high blood pressure?”
“Very. She takes medication to control it.”
“Does she smoke?”
“Three packs a day.”
“She should stop immediately.”
Janellen smiled wanly. “Never in a million years.”
“Urge her to eat properly and monitor her cholesterol intake. She should do moderate exercise. See that she takes her medication. Those precautions will help prevent a life-threatening stroke, but there are no guarantees.”
“There’s no complete cure?”
“For selected patients the arterial blockage can be removed surgically. It’s a fairly routine procedure. Unfortunately, without the proper tests and your mother’s full cooperation, that’s not an option.” Sensing Janellen’s despair, she leaned forward and pressed her hand. “I’m sorry. And remember, I could be wrong.”
“I doubt you are, Dr. Mallory. You’ve said essentially what the emergency room doctor told us. Thank you for discussing it with me. And for the soda.” She set the untouched drink on the coffee table and stood to go.
“Under the circumstances, I doubt we can be friends, but I’d like us to be cordial. Please call me Lara.”
Janellen smiled but remained noncommittal. When they reached the front door, both were surprised to see that it was raining. It was much easier to talk about something as banal as the weather. Finally, Janellen shook the doctor’s hand.
“You had every right to be rude to me. Thank you for inviting me in.”
“Thank you for giving my opinion credibility. The next time you visit, let’s hope the reason for it won’t be so serious.”
“Next time? Are you asking me to come back?”
“Of course. Feel free to drop in anytime.”
“You’re very nice, Dr…. Lara. I can understand why my brother was so attracted to you.”
Lara shook back her hair and, looking up at the rainy skies, laughed mirthlessly. “You’re wrong. Key isn’t the least attracted to me.”
Janellen was stunned. “Key?” she repeated with puzzlement. “I was referring to Clark.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bowie flipped up the collar of his denim jacket and huddled closer to the exterior wall of the house. The eaves provided scant protection from the blowing rain. He was getting soaked.
He really couldn’t say why he wa
s at the Tacketts’ place at this time of night, standing outside in the rain. He should be stretched out in front of his secondhand TV set. His rented trailer had few amenities, but at least it was dry.
Whatever the weather, he had no business being here. Jody Tackett’s health was a private family matter. They’d hardly want an outsider butting in. None of that had affected his decision to come; he had felt compelled. When he arrived, he noticed that Key’s Lincoln was gone and so was Janellen’s car. He parked the company truck out of sight behind the detached garage. The only car in the driveway belonged to the housekeeper.
He saw no need to announce his presence to her. What would he say? He supposed he could tell her the truth—that he was worried about Miss Janellen; how she was reacting to her mama’s collapse in the Sak’n’Save. Then the housekeeper would probably want to know what business it was of his, and he’d have to say no business of his at all, and she’d shoo him off the porch and probably call the law.
So he lurked in the shadows, standing ankle deep in rainwater. He couldn’t adequately justify his reason for being there. He just knew he had to be. Furthermore, he intended to stay right where he was, come hell or high water, until he saw for himself that Miss Janellen was holding together.
He hadn’t laid eyes on her since that afternoon of their kiss, followed by her startling declaration that she loved him. He hadn’t taken it seriously, of course. Something had caused her to blurt it out—PMS, or too much sun, or maybe an allergy pill that had made her a little goofy. In hindsight, she probably felt like cutting out her tongue.
Because he empathized with anyone who shot off his mouth without thinking, he’d been avoiding Janellen, sparing her the embarrassment of having to face him and offer an excuse for her bizarre behavior. Sure enough, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him, too.
They couldn’t keep dodging each other forever, though. Sooner or later they’d meet, so it might as well be tonight when she had something even more terrible to fret over. He couldn’t do anything about her mama’s failing health, but he could relieve her of one concern. He could assure her that he didn’t intend to take advantage of something she’d said during a mental lapse of unknown origin.
