Grace hmm’d.
“Greg would probably be grateful for even part-time help.” Shelby hugged a pillow to her middle. “They take in a lot of Medicare patients. He can be a bit gruff, but the kids love him. He’ll do house calls once in a while, and he’s even accepted a casserole in payment. Some of those folks up the valley don’t have much.”
Grace found the casseroles hard to believe and just raised her brows.
Shelby plowed on, excited now. “His nurse, Matty, is a saint, a wonderful person. She’s getting up there in age, though. I bet if you went over there he’d hire you on the spot.”
Grace exhaled. She twitched her lips. Was this an answer? Maybe…maybe not. Was she really ready? “It’s not that easy. I promised Ted I’d take care of Eddy.”
Shelby thumped the pillow. “Yeah, it’s a tough one. But you can’t pass up a good opportunity. Your experience in that clinic where you came from…I’m sure it’s enough. Even another practical nurse would work out. What are your qualifications again? Anyway, Greg would probably work out a deal so you could be home most afternoons.”
“I left that life behind. I don’t have a current license for Michigan, and I really can’t…” Grace’s protests might have sounded mild, but inside she was quaking. Could she do it? Go back to work? What if she did something wrong? Hurt someone…again?
“You’re more than a babysitter, girlfriend. I know it.”
Grace took in a cleansing breath. “How about I read some more? Where were we?”
Shelby pouted but accepted the change of subject.
But the idea of working in the clinic grabbed Grace and wouldn’t let go. Just plain working…nothing different. Nothing…unusual. She actually drove slowly past the little health services building on her way home that afternoon. There were four cars in the parking lot. The low building had a row of dark windows all along one side. The exterior was a rusty orange and someone had planted asters which bloomed with purple ferocity.
She pitched her idea to Ted later that night. It wasn’t that she needed his approval or anything to get another job. She had agreed to be Eddy’s caretaker first but owed it to Ted to discuss the possibility that, if by some miracle she was hired at the clinic and did her best to work part-time, there was a chance that an emergency might interfere.
They were sitting together after supper, reading the paper in Grace’s living room when she broached the subject. Ted’s glower and pout rivaled Shelby’s.
“I didn’t know that you were looking for another job,” he said, bending a corner of the business section to look at her. “I’m sorry. Look if you don’t want to babysit anymore or if you need more money, I—”
“Ted!” They were sitting on opposite ends of her sofa. She faced him, pulling up a knee and curling her ankle underneath. She wrapped her hands around her leg and looked at him. “It’s not the money. It’s something Shelby said about the clinic. It sounds like they need help.” How can I explain my calling? Even when I ran away from it? She was no longer terrified of admitting who she was. At least not the practical side. That much she could handle. As long as she was careful.
“Um, you may not know this but I am a PA, a Physician’s Assistant. I’d have to look into getting certified in Michigan but that’s what my training is, what I did back home.” She tried a little levity. “I’m not ready to retire, no matter if I’m a little old widow lady.” When he frowned, she rushed on. “Not that taking care of Eddy isn’t important. And I love it.”
She started to reach out to touch him, pulling back only at the last second. “The funny thing,” she said, trying again to lighten up the atmosphere, “is that I really didn’t want to have anything to do with heal—um, medicine, again. I left Woodside not thinking I would ever return to work in the field. But here I am in Michigan, thinking about the same old thing.”
“Of course I didn’t know that about you!” Ted’s mouth was tight, his lips white. His eyes sparked. He turned away from her. “You tell me so little about yourself, even when I ask you. I know hardly anything at all about you! Whether you have any children, how old you are, whether you had any pets when you were growing up.”
Grace leaned her face against her knee, wondering where that outburst sprang from. It was a little late to get personal after all these months. Why had he held back? She knew why she had, though her once-proud claim to choose whether or not she cared about her new home and its people was a long-lost idiosyncrasy. Their unspoken agreement to act as though they had no history, as if life started last spring, had worked so well for her. She sighed. “I don’t have any children, Ted. I’m ancient, and as a kid I had a white rabbit like Alice in Wonderland, named ‘Rose,’ of course, and two hamsters for a couple of months until I forgot about them and only smelled them later. Mother was not happy but she refused to interfere when I promised I would take care of them. I’m an only child and my parents are dead,” she added for good measure. “There. How’s that?”
“Better. I’m sorry about your parents. And Rose. So you worked at a medical center in Woodside? A PA, huh?”
“Something like that.” She jumped up and started dancing a strange jig in surprise. She’d sat long enough for her feet to fall asleep and the prickles were literally shocking. Ted laughed. She tossed her head and marched relatively straight into the kitchen to check on Eddy. He didn’t even look up from coloring pumpkins and turkeys for her front windows with oddly-scented magic markers. The markers had all been uncapped and left to mingle on the table like so many abandoned fish. She wrinkled her nose and started to turn aside, not realizing Ted had slowly drifted in her wake.
She continued the conversation, ignoring what his proximity did to her heart rate. The last time he’d gotten to her, she’d almost lost it and touched him. No way could she let that happen. He might be looking a little better these days, but he was not well, either.
“So, I thought I would just check into it, Ted. I don’t even know if they really want help, could use mine, or how much time it would be. I will ask that the clinic hours not interfere with Eddy’s school schedule before I decide anything, okay?”
“You don’t need my permission to get a job.” His easy laugh of a moment ago was gone. Eddy looked up from his turkey project, eyes wide under his heavy swath of bangs. Ted put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Grace smiled to reassure the boy that nothing was wrong.
It didn’t work. “You’re getting a job, Grace? Who’s gonna take care of me?” His anguished face nearly undid her plans right then. She gave Ted “the look” out of the corner of her eye as she swiftly went to put her arms around Eddy while he sat at the table.
“I’m only thinking about helping Doctor Evans out at the clinic while you’re at school, Eddy. I’m not sure if he needs help. You’re my most important job right now. I’ll still be here almost all the time when you need me. It’s just sometimes someone has an accident or gets sick when I want to come home, but I have to help them, too.”
“Oh. I like Doctor Evans,” he said. “And Matty puts me on Ranger Robot bandages,” he continued, clueless about mixing up his words. He went back to coloring, totally relaxed. “I can come and see you there, too, can’t I? I didn’t know you were a doctor. But I did know you’re smart as Miss Jones. I love you!”
“Yeah, well…” She ruffled his head as she stalked past the little man’s father out of the kitchen.
“Time to start moving, Eds,” Ted told his boy, Eddy’s work apparently done here.
All the way home he heard her voice in his head. Ancient, hmmm… and he caught the present tense in her answer about children. What did she mean when she said she didn’t think she’d ever want anything to do with medicine again? What had happened back in Tennessee? He’d never pried, never felt the need to. He’d trusted her from the moment he’d first seen her, one of his old ragged Tshirts wrapped around her hair as she cleaned cobwebs Jilly had never bothered to notice. He should have asked for references at least, befor
e he hired her to take care of Eddy. He had meant to. Somehow, he’d never gotten around to it. Shelby’s opinion seemed more than adequate. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hasty.
“Bedtime, kiddo,” he said as they crossed the threshold.
“Dad!”
“What clothes are you wearing tomorrow? And where’s your school bag? Let’s pack it up. What papers did you bring home for me to see?”
During their evening routine, thoughts continued to swirl. There must be a better way to learn more about her. Shelby and Davy could help figure out where this Woodside clinic was. Somewhere in Tennessee…
Grace returned to Doctor Evans’s clinic and this time went inside. When she explained her reason for stopping in to Nancy, the receptionist, there was no mistaking the young woman’s wide-eyed look of relief. “Wait right here!” Nancy disappeared down a hallway and returned three minutes later. “When can you come back and talk to the doctor?”
On a mid-November Friday afternoon, when Eddy and his father were home together doing whatever fathers and sons find to do, she paused in the driveway in front of the clinic. The parking lot was an ominous three-quarters full, car windows glinting in the fading light, and wind rattled the remaining brown leaves still clinging to skeletal trees.
She clutched the pristine envelope with her diploma, CE credits from Harvard and certificates from Greenville declaring her duly bestowed with all the privileges of a Physician’s Assistant, along with references she never imagined she would ever need. It had been a sort of joke in Woodside, keeping the papers in her emergency bag in her car. Now she was glad to have them even if she could not believe that she actually wanted—ached—for the feel of steel instruments in her hands, the look of children and mothers who begged her to help them feel better, the brisk scent of rubbing alcohol. Gloves. She’d have to remember gloves at all times. She pushed open the glass doors, thinking up reasons for the amount of cars in the parking lot.
The office window was dark and deserted, a sign-in chart left haphazardly on the counter, a pen tied to a string swung below the clipboard in a lazy arc. The waiting room overflowed with a dozen people in varying degrees of discomfort, an unsmiling mother holding her youngster over the garbage can in the corner where he unreservedly vomited. Two other children and a dad looked ready to join him. Grace walked down the hall, as apparently no one was available to invite her to her appointment. At the door marked “Doctor’s Office,” she knocked.
She took the resulting groan as an invitation to enter. A sandy-haired man in a white doctor’s coat slumped in a maroon leather desk chair. His eyes were closed. “I just need a second, Matty,” he said faintly.
“I’m Grace Runyon, Doctor, ah, Evans, about the job. I see you’re busy, though, so I’ll…”
The man’s eyes snapped open at this, and as quickly, closed again.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry but we’re in the midst of an early season flu outbreak and I really don’t want you catching it. If you could come back later, that would be great.”
“I never get sick.”
Doctor Evans opened one foggy hazel eye. “Never? Really? In that case, you’re hired.” He carefully got to his feet. He’d probably unfold to at least six-two standing fully straight.
“No, wait.” He rested his knuckles on the clean desk top, hunched over, and watched her. “What do you do for the flu?”
She wondered at the trick question. “Um, not much, unless there’s obvious dehydration determined by patient information, skin touch, and a look at the eyes. Then we re-hydrate, IV if necessary, watch for spiked temp and bring it down if pushing one hundred three for more than a few hours.”
“Okay, how about a busted collarbone?” he asked, without apparently needing to impress her with technical jargon.
“Well, again, not much. Visual exam, X-ray. MRI if suspected soft tissue damage or internal fixation is needed. Otherwise, stabilization with a sling, painkillers, and follow up, possible PT,” she said, curious about the nature of these two obvious tests.
“Okay, now you’re hired. I’ll check your references and see about transferring your license later. Right now, we have patients who need to be told there’s ‘not much’ we can do for them, and Tony Vandergroot, age eleven, who needs a sling. I have about half an hour,”— he looked up to the ceiling, rising to his tiptoes, stretching and taking a deep breath— “I think, before I collapse. Matty is done in, and Nancy went home about ten this morning. Come on. You can tell Tony no skateboarding for six weeks.” He pulled an X-ray off the viewer mounted on the wall behind the door of his office and ushered her back into the hallway.
He grinned weakly. “Baptism by fire. Welcome to East Bay Community Clinic.”
The schedule Greg set up for her was perfect. Grace worked six-hour shifts for the most part, Mondays and Tuesdays and Thursdays, trading some on-call days when Greg and Matty needed extra help. The job offer had happened so fast, she’d been stunned, but giddy. Piece of cake. She’d called Shelby to crow.
“I owe you big time! What do you want?”
“For you to be happy,” Shelby replied. “And a healthy baby, of course.”
“Your desire shall be granted.” Grace giggled and hung up, squashing down a flare of doubt, replacing it with relief. Then wondering what she’d gotten herself into. She quickly booted up her computer and started to read through a year’s worth of medical journals.
The doctor was not nearly as young as he first appeared to Grace, so exhausted as he sat at his desk. On closer inspection she noted fine lines around the outside of his pale hazel eyes and silver threaded through his thick blond hair. He had been surprised to know that she was the new neighbor at the Marshall place, and her primary reason for working the short hours was to care for Eddy.
“I’m not much into the local gossip,” Greg said. “I developed this habit of listening with just one ear. Then I never have to remember if I’m told something in confidence or not, though everything is supposed to be confidential,” he said, in much better health and humor, now that the mini flu epidemic was over. “I’m always amazed at what I hear at Kaye’s a half hour after an accident, though.”
Grace wondered how much he knew about Ted’s condition, and if he would talk about it.
“Ah, yes. Ted Marshall. Had to turn him over to Beardslee in Lansing,” he said in his shorthand speak when referring to medical cases, regret in his voice. “Terrible accident. No reason to think it’s the cause of the deterioration, though. Can’t put my finger on it. Should be… ah, well. But it isn’t. No known viral or organic. I checked out some interesting stuff on the net. Shouldn’t be happening.” He looked up at her. “All hypothetical, of course.”
“Of course.”
They were at a staff meeting at Bay Bridge Hospital when she met more of the medical community. The group arranged itself in a loose circle on folding metal chairs. Despite the navy padded seats the backs of the chairs were cold. Closed navy drapes and abstract prints hung on the walls, removing any sense of coziness. Deeply padded carpeting muffled the conversation and the “new” smell competed with antiseptic from the hallway that oozed in whenever the door opened to admit another arrival. Before the meeting, Greg officially introduced her to his inherited nurse. She had been ensconced when he first joined the local medical clinic fourteen years earlier, an invaluable help, the doctor said. She had only seen the backside of Mathilde Van Ooyen disappearing into the restroom at the clinic when she’d first interviewed with Greg.
“Grace, here’s our Mathilde—the best nurse at East Bay Community Clinic.”
“The only nurse, you sly one. Call me Matty,” she told Grace. East Bay’s nurse was in her late fifties at least, judging by her iron-gray hair. Her rich labials and slurring sibilants identified her as a non-native speaker. Pleasantly well-fed, Matty appeared to enjoy life. Grace did not dare compare Greg and Matty to the medical people back home in Woodside. It was past time to move on with her life. Woodside was over.
&nb
sp; The three of them stood together before the huge silver coffeepot, embellishing the thin brown, harsh-smelling contents of their foam cups with various powdered offerings. Grace ignored the large sugar cookies and stale-looking donuts arranged on a paper doily near the pot. Matty revealed her origins during their easy conversation. As suspected, she was born Dutch. The nurse smiled quizzically at Grace, head cocked, eyebrows rising to some inner rhythm of thought as the doctor droned on with the introductions.
“I was just planning to fulfill an obligation to the university, to practice in a smaller, less prosperous community before I went on to bigger and better things,” Greg said. “I went to med school on a community grant and scholarship and the university helped pay part of the costs. Once I got here, got to know some of the people, I didn’t want to leave. Where else would be better to live?”
“Grace, dear, anything you can do to help out this poor, tired, exhausted soul. He can’t keep up with me, you know,” Matty stage-whispered conspiratorially and gave a wicked wink.
The doctor grinned. “These Dutch women are so demanding,” he responded and turned away to shake hands with another of the hospital staff.
The nurse gave Grace a soul-searching look which she took in good humor. Establishing a good rapport from the first was mutually beneficial. When Matty reached out her hands, Grace automatically met them.
“Ja, good, strong, warm, useful hands,” she happily observed, squeezing. There was no spark, no tingle; nothing but firm pressure. Her hands were warm, tough, and square with deep calluses. The older woman leaned close then and held Grace with her eyes.
“You have it, don’t you?” she asked.
Healing Grace Page 8
