by C D Cain
“I don’t know if I’ve told you yet but I’m pretty happy you’ve joined us. I’ve contracted a few physicians to come help out during seasonal rush. Not any I wanted to have stay on. You? You can stay as long as you like.” She straightened her neck and closed her eyes. “Although, I don’t anticipate you’ll stay long. You’re completely overqualified for rural medicine.”
“Thank you for saying that. It’s nice to hear.” Sam clicked her pen closed and laid it on her desk. “I’ve enjoyed being a part of your team much more than I thought I would. And I would never say I’m overqualified for this position. Now that I’ve worked here, I realize you’ve got to be on your game for rural medicine. In a large teaching facility, you’ve got a whole team to go to when something comes up. Other attendees, staff docs, interns, you name it. There are ample minds you can pick from around every corner. Here? It’s all on what you bring to the table.”
“Preach,” Timber said as she rubbed her aching temples. “No dinner plans tonight?”
“Nope. You?”
“Thank goodness, no. Greg and the twins are at his mom’s house. Cade is on a date and Joseph is…well, who knows where. There’s some leftover pasta in the fridge that has my name written all over it.”
“I’m envisioning Mediterranean take out for me.”
Timber’s eyes opened wide. A smile spread the freckles of her face. “Oh, that sounds so much better.”
“I found a great hole-in-the-wall place down from my condo. Had it once last week and haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”
Timber wasn’t snoring but she was definitely breathing heavier. Quietly, Sam returned to her charting but was startled when Timber spoke again.
“Can I talk with you about something?”
“Sure.” Sam put her pen down again.
“You’ve been quiet since you returned and I was surprised to not see you today with Ms. Bell at her appointment. Everything okay with you? I’m asking purely as a friend.”
“Everything’s okay. I’ve got some things on my mind but that’s it.” Sam didn’t attempt to fake a smile. She knew it would look ridiculously forced. Instead, she redirected their conversation. “How did the appointment go?”
“Funny you should ask, Doctor.”
“Funny?” Sam closed the chart in front of her and leaned back in her chair. “Why funny?”
“Because, Ms. Bell actually gave me permission to discuss her medical case with you. Just in case you asked.”
“She did?”
Timber gave a chuckle of a laugh at the similarities in the way each of the women spoke of one another. It reminded her of when her oldest boy described his first crush. “She did.” She crossed her legs. Her thick quadricep muscle was more visible with the material of her scrubs stretched across her let. “Overall, her appointment went well. Although, her blood pressure was elevated so I’m having her come back for follow up fairly soon.”
“Are you worried about preeclampsia?”
“Not yet. But I certainly have it on my radar.”
“And the baby?”
Timber reached into the front pocket of her scrub top. She stretched her arm across the desk to hand Sam the photo. “She’s doing just fine.”
Sam felt a skip in her heart when she looked at the ultrasound picture. She ran her thumb across it. The smile she dared not fake earlier came to her all on its own. “She,” she repeated softly.
“Not all women possess it, you know? You’ve seen it as much as I have.”
“Possess what?” Sam didn’t look up from the picture.
“That look on your face right now.”
Sam looked up to see Timber pointing at her chest.
“That mother’s heart or whatever you want to call it,” Timber continued. “In my career, I’ve seen thousands of reactions from mothers when they first hear their baby’s heartbeat or see their baby on ultrasound. There’s this face…this expression they have. So many different reactions. For some it’s happiness, elation even, but for others it’s as if their whole world had meaning in that one moment of hearing or seeing their baby. That’s how it was for me.” She looked directly at Sam. “That’s how it was for you when you first heard it walking in the exam room. It made me wonder if that’s why you didn’t come today. Wonder about you.”
“How so?”
“Worried maybe you’ve recognized how hard it’s going to be on you when she goes forward with the adoption.”
“Oh.” Sam put the photo on her desk. “Did she say anything else about the adoption?”
“Just that she was still looking through the family profiles but undecided so far. Have you told her how you feel?”
“About what?”
“The baby.”
“What’s there to tell?”
“I suppose that’s something you’ll have to figure out.” Timber stood from the chair and stretched her arms up over her head. “I love my husband. Have loved him since we were in high school. Can’t imagine myself with anyone else. But it’s nothing compared to the love I have for my children. The best part of my day, the best part of my life, is when I’m with them. They are the very best part of me. Who’s to say it won’t be the same for you?”
“Timber, it’s not my baby. It’s not my choice.”
“It could be. That’s all I’m saying. She’s looking for a home. Why can’t it be yours?”
“What?” Sam felt her voice crack and escalate. “Oh no. No way. I couldn’t possibly. I don’t even know which end is up right now. I’m a complete mess.’
Timber pointed to Sam’s desk. “Maybe that’s your direction right there?”
Sam vehemently shook her head. “Absolutely not. I work, like, a lot. You have a husband. I don’t even have a girlfriend. Uh uh. No way. It’s impossible.”
Timber shrugged. “Nothing’s impossible. Remember, that’s what nannies are for. But I hear you. My bad. I’ve misjudged the situation.” She snorted. “It’s not the first and won’t be the last. My apologies.” She glanced at the door and then back at Sam. “Speaking of kiddos, mine are gone for the night. How about I join you for that Mediterranean?”
“Sounds great. As long as we can leave this conversation here.”
“Done.” Timber crossed her heart. “Promise.”
Sam slung her lab coat across her chair and grabbed her keys off her desk. Her finger grazed over the top of the ultrasound picture. She picked it up and put it in her shirt pocket. “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 19
Sam sipped on her drink as she stared out across the bay. With the crowds of Bar Island thinned at high tide, the ding of the buoy was well heard from her balcony. She had become fond of it in the evening hours after work as it was peaceful and somewhat musical to her. She had seen Gentry’s name on Dr. Waggoner’s patient list but hadn’t gone over to see her while she was there. In fact, she hadn’t called or gone to see her since she had gotten back from Atlanta. Seeing Rayne had affected her in more ways than one. Of course, there was the return of a sadness she had only barely recovered from by again telling her goodbye. But there was also this feeling of remorse that she had not anticipated. She had become filled with anger at seeing Rayne and Mo together. Yet, Rayne vehemently denied them being more than friends. Forgetting the dance, Sam knew in her heart Rayne had not been intimate with Mo. Her idea of friendship would not have included that. Past dislike for Mo had certainly influenced her reaction to seeing Rayne with another woman. Sam sipped her drink again and swallowed hard at the thoughts of her and Gentry’s loosely defined terms of friendship. She closed her eyes to the vision of their trysts on the couch. For them, their act was sex. It didn’t have to be more than filling a desire’s need. Sam felt guilty for becoming so angry with Rayne all while knowing she was doing the very thing she had accused her of doing. She thought of how much it would have hu
rt her to know that she had done far more than an erotic dance.
Knock. Knock.
Seeing Gentry’s face in the peephole surprised her. “Hey,” she said as she opened the door.
“Hi.” Gentry diverted her eyes from Sam’s and shifted her weight. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. I was about to fix another drink. Do you want anything?”
“No, thank you.” Gentry walked through the open patio doors to stand at the railing. She didn’t turn to Sam when she came behind her to sit back down in her chair.
“Do you want to sit down?” Sam asked.
“I will in a minute.” Gentry ran her thumb across the railing. “I can’t say I was surprised you didn’t let me know you were back. I believe everyone has the right to do exactly what they want to do with who they want to do it with. So, my coming over here tonight isn’t to change your mind if you’ve decided you don’t want to spend time with me anymore or if it’s that you need space from me right now. We both know our time together is short-lived anyway.” She was not one who entertained idealistic views of “the one” or of falling in love. Her childhood’s teachings of how to show love had shown her she wanted no part of it. It was nothing for her to accept the coming and going of people in and out of her life. Granted, she was usually the one to go. When the nurse walked her by Sam’s office door on the way to the exam room, she had not been able to stop herself from looking to see any sign she had returned. The pang of disappointment, even pain, when she saw Sam sitting at her desk was an unwelcome surprise.
Sam sat quietly as she listened to Gentry. She swirled the ice around in her glass and the last sentence Gentry said around in her head. She had to admit it gave her pause because she hadn’t really considered when or if their time would end.
Gentry looked out across the bay to Bar Island where Sam had taken her for a picnic. She didn’t look back at Sam but instead pictured the face of the woman who smiled at her as she led her across the bar. “If this is the end of our journey together, then so be it. I’ll accept it. But I want to explain to you why I haven’t told you about me being from Br…from there.” Gentry took in a breath. “Sam, my past is a very difficult thing for me to think about, much less talk about. It’s like it sucked the life right out of me. Few people know anything of it. I’ve talked to you and one other person. Even though I feel safe for you to know these things about me, it’s still hard to open up to you. It’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because it takes so much out of me to remember it. It’s like I’m living it all over again when I do. Then there’s you. The times when you talked about Rayne to me, actually said her name, your thoughts and feelings were flowing. I was afraid I would’ve changed the direction of them or take the focus from what you were telling me about your experience to mine. My past is no more painful to me than yours is to you. Pain is pain. I’m sorry if I made you mad at me or if you felt I was not honest with you. I truly am.” She turned to Sam.
“I wasn’t angry with you. I didn’t understand why you would keep it from me.” Sam dotted the liquid from the side of the glass that had collected at the bottom onto the top of her jeans. “I suppose I felt betrayed that you’d keep something like that from me. Here I am pouring out my heart to you about her and the whole time you know her. I guess a part of me felt pretty stupid.”
“Please don’t. Please, don’t take any action of mine as a means of making you feel stupid. I don’t really know her the way you think. I knew the little girl while I was there but only heard about her later from Addie when we would talk.” Gentry drew out Addie’s name when she said it. “It’s Addie I know…knew so much more than I did Rayne. I know the life around Rayne. I know the life of Brennin. It’s the heart of Addie I know most.”
“How do you know them? I don’t get the connection.”
Gentry leaned her back against the railing. “You don’t? You’ve seen Brennin. Everybody knows everybody’s business there.”
Sam made a noise in recognition but she said no actual words.
“Did you meet Imogene…Imogene Bell? Owner of Sugar Bakers?”
Recognition came over Sam when she actually connected the last names.
“She’s my grandmother. My dad’s mother. I told you I was taken to a foster home after the police raided the house. I didn’t stay long. My dad apparently sobered up enough to tell them about her and his wishes for me to go there while he was in rehab. Besides, even if he hadn’t, the state would’ve investigated and found her.” Gentry sat down in the chair next to Sam. “Imogene told me she had tried to see me. That she would lose contact of where I was every time he moved us. She said she never gave up. Looking back, I think I blamed her for the hell hole I lived in. I was a kid who had very childlike rationale. She was easy to take it out on…to blame for what had happened to me all those years. She loved me and took every single bit I threw at her.” Gentry smirked. “Then she introduced me to Addie.” She cocked her head toward Sam. “I know you’ve met her so you get what I’m saying. There was no blaming Addie or acting out against her. That lady put things in terms you could understand and didn’t take shit from any one.”
“She sure didn’t seem to take any.”
“No, she did not. Not even from a little girl who was lashing out at the world. She was exactly what I needed. Imogene arranged for me to go stay with Addie.” Gentry nodded her head. “That woman pulled everything out of me. It was like she had this stick and every day she would pull a little more out to twirl it around its staff. Like she harnessed all of the evil around it and then burned it to a crisp. I remember my first true night’s sleep in her house. I had cried in her arms until I fell asleep. When I woke up, do you know she was still right there? In the exact same position. She didn’t move all night. When I asked her about it, she told me she wanted me to feel I was safe. To know she was a constant in my life. No matter what happened, she was there.” She ran her hands across her face. “I miss her.” She looked at Sam’s face in the light of the setting sun. Her eyes held an earnest yearning to continue listening. Not the glassed-over look of someone pacifying her story but an honest wish to hear more. “She came for me once.” Gentry turned to gaze out across the bay as the golden reds and oranges reflected off of the water. “We had gotten up early to pick the garden. Purple hull peas, my favorite. Addie was in a mood over her stories. You know those soap operas that played in the afternoons? Addie had two of them she watched religiously. She had it planned so that by the time they were on, we were sitting in front of them shelling peas. I used to love watching her fuss at those shows.” Gentry sighed and ran her hand over the rail. “It was a good day. Until I heard her voice. Sam, it pierced me. The thought of running hit me so fast, I forgot about the pot of shelled peas in my lap. It was loud when it hit the floor. So loud.” Gentry covered her ears as she shook her head. She felt Sam’s hand on the back of her leg and opened her eyes. Sam’s eyes held her tenderly. “Addie ran to me and stood in between her and me. She had one arm behind her back, holding me behind her. I didn’t want to see that woman’s face. Hear her voice. God, smell her. That awful smell she carried. Stale cigarettes and beer. But I did. I buried my face against Addie’s shirt to block her out. But not even the smell of Addie’s homemade soap could overpower that horrid smell.” A wave of nausea hit Gentry. She swallowed it back and wet her lips. “She kept screaming over and over how I was hers and how she would get me back. She called Addie an old woman who was a fool to think she could keep her from me. Addie just kept turning me away from her every time she would try to reach around her to grab me. When I felt my back against the kitchen bar, I knew exactly where Addie was leading her. See, she kept a .38 special revolver behind the back door. Addie pointed that gun right between her eyes.” Gentry looked at Sam with a tear developing in her eyes. In all of her reliving of her past with Sam, this was the first time she had not stopped the tears. “I wanted her to pull the trigger, Sam. Here I was,
this girl just barely in her teen years, and I wanted her to pull that fucking trigger so bad. That’s how much hate was in me.” The tear fell. “See, there are all kinds of layers to my dark soul that you’ve not seen yet. I actually wanted someone’s life to be taken.”
Sam lifted her hand from stroking Gentry’s leg and stood to gently wipe the tear from her cheek. “Your soul is anything…anything other than dark.”
“I hope you’re right.” Gentry lightly grabbed the back of Sam’s hand and motioned her to sit back down. She needed to get all of this out while she was strong enough. “Addie chased her off that day and the ones after when she would come again. Even as old as I am now, when Addie passed, I just didn’t feel safe anymore. That’s when I knew it was time to leave Louisiana. I would have the most horrible nightmares that she would come into the diner one day. You think I’m this brave woman who trekked out across the northeast because I felt like it. Truth is, I’m running just like you. You’ll eventually stop running. You’ll eventually find your place. Me? I’ll always run.”
“You don’t have to ever hear her voice or see her face again.”
Gentry shook her head again. “No, I don’t, but it doesn’t stop the nightmares. My mind can tell me all day long that the trigger was pulled. She doesn’t exist anymore. But, Sam, my soul…that part of me I can’t rationalize with feels her every day.” Gentry closed her eyes. “Every damn day. I’ll never stop running from that.”
Gentry fell hard in the chair behind her and rested her back against it. Her energy was spent. The nightmare made alive in her words. It wasn’t because she still felt the intensity of vulnerability and exposure when she told Sam of these things. It was the bringing of them to the surface which wiped her out the most.
The buoy dinged uninterrupted in their silence. Sam stretched her hand out to touch Gentry’s arm. She rubbed her thumb across her forearm as they watched the sun set below the top of the water.
“Hey, Gentry?” Sam said as she washed the dishes from their take-out order. Neither one of them felt like going out after their earlier conversation. In fact since then, they hadn’t said much of anything else. A few sentences about their day over dinner was all. “Can I ask you something? I don’t want to bring up the stuff from before, but I did want to ask you something else.”
