“No,” Vivian replied flatly.
“Well, you don’t have to sound so defensive.”
“I’m not being defensive, Glenda. This is a serious matter. Bernard was unconscious. You just said yourself that maybe he had a stroke. Zack Warner is the last person I’m thinking about. This is not part of our little husband-hunting expedition.”
“All right, all right. Now you’re making me feel guilty. Hold on; here’s Terry.”
Vivian sat in the waiting area, alternating between reading the Arts and Leisure section of the New York Times that someone had apparently left behind, and glancing up at the entry, wanting to see if anyone new had arrived. Terry had immediately offered to call Bernard’s parents and let them know their son was at the hospital. “I’m sure they’ll rush right over,” he said.
Vivian expected as much. It had been a very long time since she’d met the parents of a man she was dating, and these circumstances were far from ideal. Terry had also told her that he and Glenda would be over right after they got something to eat. She found herself hoping that they would arrive before the Williamses; it would make the situation less uncomfortable for her.
As it turned out the next voice she heard was one that was becoming familiar.
“Hey. That you, Vivling?”
“Hello, Zack,” she said knowingly before she even turned her head to visually confirm his presence.
“What brings you here this afternoon? No, don’t tell me. You’re here with the fellow with the ulcer.”
“Bernard has an ulcer?”
“That’s about my best guess until his labs come back. Test results will confirm.” Zack took the vacant seat next to her, pulled a gleaming red apple out of his lab coat pocket and took a bite.
She was actually glad to see him. His familiar face soothed her nerves.
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes. I’d like to hear your version of what happened?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“He doesn’t remember. That’s not unusual in a situation like this.” Zack held out his hand, palm up, gesturing for her to continue.
“Well, I wasn’t in the room when it happened. I found him on the floor. He hit his head on the coffee table.”
“And you don’t know anything about his medical history?”
“I barely know him, Zack. But I believe his parents are on the way. They should be able to tell you whatever you need to know.”
“That must have been a difficult call to make.”
“Actually, I didn’t make the call. Someone made it for me.” Suddenly Zack’s impassive expression was too much for her. “Why don’t you just go ahead and say it?”
“Say what?”
“I know you’re just dying to make some comment about coming to the rescue of the men I date.”
“I was thinking no such thing, my little angel of the accident-prone.”
She glared at him. “Are you through?”
“I don’t know why you’re insulted. It’s not like I called you the angel of death.”
“Since you’re joking around like this, I guess that means Bernard will be okay.”
“He’s got a nasty gash from his head connecting with that coffee table, which we’ve already cleaned and stitched up. His ulcer looks like it might be pretty bad, but I hardly think it’s life-threatening. We’ve requested a GI consult to determine if surgery is needed, and he’ll be admitted as soon as we can find someone to do it.” He stood up. “I’ll come out again in a few minutes. Maybe the family will be here by then. In the meantime I need to speak with another family.” He returned the apple to his pocket.
Vivian was about to acknowledge his statement when a small, wiry man approached him. “Dr. Warner, any news on my daughter?”
“Ah, Mr. Mosely. I was just looking for you.” He turned to Vivian. “Excuse me.”
She nodded.
The men moved away before they began to talk. Vivian couldn’t hear what Zack said, but the man’s response was spoken quite loudly.
“Plastic surgery!” he exclaimed.
Zack continued to speak in the same calm tone.
“But I can’t afford a plastic surgeon’s fee. Why can’t you sew up the cut?”
This time Vivian could hear Zack’s response. “If it was her arm or leg that was lacerated I think that would be fine, Mr. Mosely. But it wasn’t. It’s her face. Surely you don’t want your daughter to be scarred.”
“No, of course not but I can’t afford to pay a plastic surgeon. I want you to do it.”
Zack lowered his voice, but from his body language Vivian could tell he was trying to convince the man that this was the best route to take. She could also tell from the way his shoulders slumped that he was not successful. He left the room wearing defeat like a hand-me-down suit.
Vivian was still looking at the door he had disappeared behind when the Williamses arrived. “Miss St James?”
She turned and immediately knew the identity of this sixtyish couple. “Yes,” she said, smiling. “You must be Bernard’s parents.”
“I’m Levi Williams, and this is my wife, Ceola.”
Vivian shook their hands. Mr. Williams’s grip was strong, but his wife’s felt like a mass of cooked pasta. “I’m so sorry we had to meet under such unpleasant circumstances.”
“I am, too. Has there been any word on Bernard’s condition?” Mr. Williams asked.
“Actually, the doctor was just here. He said he would come out again in a few minutes and see if you had arrived.”
“What did he say?” This from Mrs. Williams.
“He said Bernard’s injuries weren’t life-threatening.”
“Injuries?” his mother interrupted. “I thought he fainted. Was he attacked?”
Vivian didn’t like the accusatory tone in the woman’s voice, but she chalked it up to a combination of being upset and uninformed. “He passed out in his own living room and banged his head on the coffee table,” she said evenly. “The doctor suspects an ulcer. They’re waiting for a GI specialist to determine if he needs surgery.”
“It’s all that stress at his job,” Mrs. Williams said. She turned to her husband. “I told him to become an accountant instead of a stockbroker.”
“All right, Ceola. Let’s wait for the doctor.”
“But he might need surgery!”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s just sit down.”
Vivian regretted having mentioned the possibility of surgery. Mrs. Williams was clearly the theatrical type, and she had just provided her with ammunition.
“At least he wasn’t attacked. Even Riverdale is getting bad these days,” Mrs. Williams was saying as they took seats. “You know,” she said, turning to Vivian, “Pelham is really much safer than the city. I don’t understand why he felt he had to leave home. He came and went as he pleased, and I made dinner for him every night.”
Vivian smiled politely, but she was thinking, Does the word ‘suffocation’ mean anything to you? The way Bernard’s mother was talking, she and her husband lived in a crime-free area. No such place existed, unless you counted Antarctica.
“Where do you live, Vivian?” Mrs. Williams asked.
“In Mount Vernon. You might say we’re neighbors, since we share a border.” The town of Pelham was sandwiched between the southern Westchester cities of Mount Vernon and New Rochelle.
“Oh, but people are always getting mugged and even worse in Mount Vernon,” Mrs. Williams said. “You might as well live in New York.”
Her husband intervened. “Ceola, I think you’ve said enough.”
That makes two of us. Vivian turned her head so the Williamses wouldn’t see her rolling her eyes.
Zack reappeared ten minutes later. “Mr. and Mrs. Williams, I’m Dr. Zachary Warner.”
Vivian sat nearby as Zack filled in the Williamses on Bernard’s condition. There was nothing more to report other than what he had already told her.
Mrs. Williams gave
a dramatic gasp and clutched her husband’s arm when he mentioned the possibility of surgery. “Can we see him?” she inquired.
“Yes, but only two at a time, and just briefly.”
“Come on, Levi.” Mrs. Williams moved forward, her hand still clamped on her husband’s arm.
Zack turned to the man at the information desk. “Lou, I’ve got two going back.” Then he turned toward the Williamses, who stood impatiently in front of the locked door. “He’s behind curtain four. It’ll be on your right.”
The entry doors to the patient area swung open, and Bernard’s parents hurried through it. Zack turned his gaze to Vivian. His eyes, usually so bright, looked darker than usual, and they reflected anguish. Surely, it had to be the case of the child he had discussed earlier.
“I couldn’t help overhearing your discussion with the father of one of your patients. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but he was talking pretty loud,” she added, not wanting him to think her a busybody. “Did he change his mind about getting a plastic surgeon?”
“I’m afraid not, not even after the head of the department spoke with him about it. It’s out of our hands now. I did everything I could. This is one of the things I like the least about my work. There are cases where parents are pleading with us to do everything we can for their kids, and sometimes we aren’t able to. Here’s a case where we actually can do something but aren’t allowed to because the father is too concerned about not being able to pay the bill.”
“Don’t they have insurance?”
“No. That’s the problem; he’s a self-pay. Still, there are some things worth going into debt for.”
“I agree. What happened to the child? I mean, how was she injured?”
“They were in a car accident. She’s got deep lacerations across her forehead and diagonally; and a jagged one on her cheek from all the glass.”
“Oh, how awful! Where’s her mother? I’m sure she wouldn’t want her daughter’s face to be scarred.”
“She’s in surgery. She took the brunt of the impact. The daughter was sitting behind her on the passenger side. The father was able to walk away unhurt, although he’ll probably develop some muscle aches by tomorrow.” Zack shook his head. “Vivian, this girl is only nine years old. You know how cruel kids can be at that age?”
“I have a feeling that as soon as her mother learns what’s going on she might insist the girl have her lacerations repaired by a plastic surgeon. It can be done at a later time, can’t it, even if you fix it now?”
“It can, but it’s probably best to have it repaired correctly the first time. It’ll be less traumatic for her, and the result will probably be better.” He scratched the nape of his neck and shut his eyes.
“I hope none of your other patients are too difficult.”
“Not really. I’ve got a woman who’s a regular customer. She’s five months pregnant and is hoping frequent ER visits will convince her doctor to put her on disability until her baby is born.”
“She actually told you that?”
“No, but when repeated tests fail to show anything wrong, I don’t see any other conclusion I can come to.”
“I don’t think you’re being fair. It’s not like you know anything about having a baby.”
“No, but I passed a kidney stone once.”
She cast him a cynical glance.
“All right. Anyway, your friend’s parents seem like nice people.”
“Yes, but I think Mrs. Williams missed her calling. She should have gone into the theater or the movies. I think she would have done what Dorothy Dandridge, Cicely Tyson, and Angela Bassett weren’t able to do…get the Academy Award for Best Actress.”
He looked at her curiously. “Sounds like trouble in paradise.”
“I probably shouldn’t have said that.” Opening up to him seemed perfectly natural after he shared his own pain about his patient with her, but she’d better become less personal. “I suppose I shouldn’t blame her for being distraught. He’s her only child.”
“You can go in to see him when the parents come out, you know.”
“Thank you. I’d like to.” She glanced at her watch.
“You got a hot date?”
Vivian looked at him in exasperation. He was flashing his trademark devilish smile. It was nice to see it again, actually. She must be getting used to Zack’s sometimes twisted sense of humor. Then, again, she had witnessed his vulnerable side just moments ago. She supposed that subconsciously she hadn’t believed such a side to him existed, in spite of his having a profession that often required the utmost sensitivity and compassion. But it was confusing, the way he could be kindhearted one minute and a smart-ass the next “No, silly. I’m actually waiting for Glenda to get here.”
“Is she your ride home?”
“No. I drove Bernard’s car here. It’s just that Glenda thought it would be easier for me if she was here. She doesn’t live far from here.”
The double doors opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Williams emerged, Mrs. Williams dabbing at her eyes with a white hankie.
Vivian frowned. There were few things she could think of that were more unpleasant than fat men in Speedos, but the drama-ridden lament of an overprotective mother came awfully close. She was really laying it on thick.
“Mr. and Mrs. Williams,” Zack began. “I know Bernard looks ill, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t make a full recovery.”
“But he looks so pale,” Mrs. Williams wailed.
“He doesn’t look well, Doctor,” her husband added calmly, his arm draped around his wife’s shoulder.
“He’s had a nasty fall. I know that big bandage on his forehead is frightening. He’s also not feeling very well because of the ulcer, but please try not to be upset. We’ll have him feeling better in a few days.”
“Dr. Warner to curtain five.” The female voice paging Zack had a slight Caribbean accent.
“I’m sorry to be abrupt, but I have to see one of my patients. I’ll be here until eleven p.m. Please feel free to call me with any questions you may have or for an update,” Zack offered.
The Williamses thanked him, and Vivian said, “I guess it’s my turn to see Bernard.”
“I think maybe you should let him get some rest,” Mrs. Williams said quickly. “The nurse asked us to leave after only a few minutes.”
“They won’t let anyone stay more than a few minutes,” Zack said. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Williams. It’ll be all right.” He turned to Vivian. “Come on; you can get in with me.”
“Please excuse me,” Vivian said to Bernard’s parents.
As she waited with Zack at the entrance to the patient area while he gestured to the man at the information desk to buzz them in, she overheard Mrs. Williams, making no effort to speak in a low voice, saying, “It isn’t right to tire him out this way. She should just go home now.” How like this woman to not even attempt subtlety. Annoyed, she shook her head and sucked her teeth.
Vivian hadn’t intended to stay long; she just wanted to tell Bernard she was there and that she hoped he felt better. He nodded, half asleep, and she told him she’d see him in a day or two.
As she left his bedside, an announcement came over the PA. “Dr. Warner, telephone call.” Probably tonight’s date calling to find out what time he was picking her up, she thought.
When she got back to the waiting room she was relieved to see that Terry and Glenda had arrived. Thank God she wouldn’t have to deal with Bernard’s parents alone. Terry was patting Mrs. Williams’s hand, who looked at Vivian so intently she wanted to ask if she had a booger in her nose or something.
“How is he?” the older woman asked.
“He looks better than he did right after he passed out.”
“What was he doing when he fainted? Had the two of you been up all hours, or something?” Mrs. Williams persisted.
“He was sitting in his living room. I believe I already told you that.” Vivian knew her words sounded curt, but she couldn’t help it. It was clear Bernar
d’s mother was trying to hold her responsible for Bernard’s illness, and she wasn’t about to stand here and be accused.
“I think we should go now, Ceola,” Mr. Williams said. “There’s nothing else we can do. Bernie’s in good hands. We can call Dr. Warner in a little while to see what the specialist says.” He turned to Vivian. “We want to thank you for getting our boy to the hospital.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr. Williams. I was glad I could help.” Mrs. Williams was conspicuously silent, she noticed.
Vivian turned to Terry when the senior Williamses had gone. “Is that normal behavior for her?”
“Yes, Terry replied, “but she’s harmless.”
“I don’t know about all that,” Vivian drawled. “I can’t think of a person who has annoyed me more in such a short time. I’ll bet my blood pressure has shot up twenty points.”
*****
Zack picked up the receiver at the nurses’ station. “Dr. Warner here.”
It was the answering service of the building management company. “We have an emergency, Dr. Warner.”
“What happened?”
“One of the tenants has been found dead in his apartment.”
“Oh, no! Who was it? And what happened? It wasn’t a murder, was it?”
“No. It was Mr. Ellis in 3-B. The super called the police after the tenants on the floor started complaining of an odor coming from his apartment. The coroner said there weren’t any outward signs of foul play, maybe a heart attack or something. He also said it looked like he’s been dead for several days.”
Zack took a moment to be grateful that no one would have grounds to sue him and Austin, as the building’s owners, then said a brief prayer for Mr. Ellis. “He was an old man. He probably died of natural causes. I’ll be by tomorrow to survey the apartment for damages. Get John to air it out, will you?”
“He’s doing it now. I didn’t stay too long; it smelled too bad. Mr. Ellis’s son in Ohio is being notified. I’ll expect to hear from him soon.”
“All right. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He replaced the receiver, a thoughtful frown on his face. Mr. Ellis continued to live alone long after his declining health warranted supervision. The last time he’d seen the old man his gray hair fell past his shoulders, and he wore a filthy coat. It wasn’t surprising that death had claimed him, but it was sad nevertheless. If Zack had his way, no one would die alone.
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