by Cate Beauman
Jenny blushed as she stared at the paper.
It was moments like this when she remembered just how young Jenny was. She had a baby, yet the idea of Shane taking a woman to bed made her blush. Reagan flashed back to the moment Shane held her gaze in the mirror and slid his hands over her breasts. A quick wave of tingles whirled through her stomach with the memory, and she cleared her throat. “Go ahead and read off the results for me.”
“Mmm, well, it looks like he’s negative for HIV, syphilis, and hepatitis A, B, and C.”
“Good—”
Jenny’s stomach growled, and she winced as she pressed her hand to her abdomen. “Sorry. I didn’t have much of a lunch today.”
“We’re pretty much finished here. Go on home and get yourself something to eat. I have a couple more things to do, then I’ll be over myself.”
“Okay.” She stood, putting the chair back against the wall. “Thanks for showin’ me how to read the results. I definitely think I’m gonna have an advantage over other nursin’ students.”
She smiled with the rush of pride for the young woman who’d come so far over the last few weeks. “I agree. You’re my prize student. You’re picking up the information quickly.”
Jenny smiled back. “I think maybe that’s ‘cause I’ve got good teachers.” Her stomach growled again. “I’m gonna go see Faithy and have a snack.”
“I’ll be home soon.” She watched Jenny leave and walk up the path, nodding her satisfaction that Jenny was filling out the jeans she’d given her a bit more. Jenny had put on a little weight since she moved in—a healthy five pounds the teenager had needed. She waited for Jenny to climb the steps to the cabin and got back to work, filing Shane’s test results, then glanced at her appointment book, sighing as she crossed off the five names of the patients who’d failed to show up today.
Getting back to the task she’d begun long before Jenny had come in, she picked up the phone and dialed yet another number she’d jotted down, this time in Nashville, Tennessee. Throughout the afternoon, she’d officially exhausted every pulmonology option in the state of Kentucky and had even tried a few of the doctors over the border in Virginia and West Virginia. Since Doctor Jacobson’s misdiagnosis, she had reached out to more than twenty reputable physicians, and not one would answer her plea for help. It was time to move on to the next closest state.
“Good afternoon, Doctor Yancey’s Office.”
“Yes, good afternoon. This is Doctor Regan Rosner up in Black Bear Gap, Kentucky. I was wondering if I might be able to leave a message on Doctor Yancey’s voicemail.
“He’s in between patients. I can patch you through to his line.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” She tapped her pen against the desk, listening to the canned music.
“This is Doctor Yancey.”
“Doctor Yancey, this is Reagan Rosner up in Black Bear Gap, Kentucky. I’m the physician on staff working with the Appalachia Project.”
“Yes, hello.”
“Hi. I imagine you don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll cut right to the chase. I have four cases of progressive massive fibrosis on my hands. I’m looking for someone to glance at my x-rays and verify my diagnoses.”
“Mmm. I’d love to give you a hand, but my time’s pretty tight right now.”
“Oh.” She sighed at yet another excuse.
“But I could look them over in a couple of weeks, although it’ll probably be closer to three.”
She sat up further in her chair with the first stirrings of hope. “You can?”
“Like I said, it won’t be right away. I’m getting married Saturday—in fact my rehearsal dinner’s tomorrow night. My new wife and I are leaving for Bora Bora Saturday for two weeks.”
She’d been chasing her own tail for days getting nowhere. What was a couple of weeks if she might finally get the backup she needed? “No. That’s fine.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. I would like to send along several chest x-rays and medical histories for each of my patients. I have one patient who’s quite ill. I’ll mark his as the priority.”
“Sure. I’ll get to them as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Doctor Yancey.”
“I should probably put it out there that I’m not particularly well versed in black lung. I’ll have to study up.”
“That’s okay. I’ll attach the research I’ve gathered. I’m just so thankful you’re willing to take a look.”
“Not getting much help up there?”
“No. None, in fact.”
“Huh. I need to go. I’ll call with my findings.”
“Thank you again, and congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’m happy to help.”
“Great. Bye.” She hung up, biting her bottom lip, grinning, laughing as she spun around once in her chair. “Yes!” She turned back to her computer, composed an e-mail, and attached several files, marking Henry’s as urgent, smiling as she sent them off.
Encouraged for the first time in too long, she grabbed her laptop, turned off the lights in each of the rooms, did a visual check of the closet where the drugs were held, and was ready to call it a day. She was actually going to get some help. Doctor Yancey had a name behind him too—not anywhere near as big as Doctor Schlibenburg’s, but she would take what she could get. Her phone rang, and she went back to her office. “Black Bear Gap Clinic. This is Doctor Rosner.”
Someone breathed heavily on the other end.
She frowned. “Hello?”
The line went dead, and she shook her head. “Okay then.” She moved toward the door, pausing when the phone rang again. Seconds passed while she debated whether or not she should let it go, but then she rushed into her office, picking it up. “Black Bear Gap Clinic. This is Doctor Rosner.”
“Doctor Rosner, this is Cliff Yancey.”
Her brow furrowed. “Yes.”
“I just scanned the notes you sent along with the file you marked a priority.”
“Yes,” she repeated, certain he was going to tell her he couldn’t help her after all.
“I’m very concerned with this patient’s x-rays, especially his right lung. The upper lobe is in terrible shape. He has to be working very hard for every breath.”
“I’m afraid he is. I know he’s using oxygen.”
“I’m worried about heart failure.”
She nibbled her lip. “If I can convince my patient to come see you, would you be willing to take on his case? I would be happy to manage his care locally with your advice.”
There was a long pause.
“I know you’re getting married—”
“I am, but the other problem is I’m booked for the next several months—”
“Henry doesn’t have several months.”
“No, he doesn’t. His condition has progressed far past anything I can do. At this point the goal would be keeping him comfortable. He doesn’t have much time, maybe a couple of months at the most, and that’s being optimistic.”
“But his family would receive compensation if we can document black lung. I’m meeting a lot of resistance with the specialists in the area.”
Doctor Yancey sighed. “I can squeeze him in tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? When?”
“First thing in the morning.”
She winced. “Okay. I need to speak to him, but I’ll accept the appointment on his behalf and call you back with a definitive answer.”
“I’ll plan on seeing him at eight.”
“I’ll go talk to him now.”
“Let me know about tomorrow.”
“I will.” She hung up and walked outside, securing the two heavy-duty locks on the new metal door Shane had installed late yesterday afternoon. Ignoring the graffiti still displayed all over the building, she walked quickly up the path and steps, hurrying into the house. “I’m going into town,” she said to Shane as he sat on the couch with his laptop on his legs and phone at his ear.
“I�
��ll call you back,” he said to someone and disconnected. “What’s going on?”
“I found a pulmonologist who’s willing to diagnose Henry with progressive massive fibrosis—or he will be after he’s done a bit more research. Henry will have to go see him in Nashville.”
“Nashville? Isn’t that like five hours away?”
“Four and a half.” She snagged the keys from the bowl on the entryway table. “I’ll be back.”
“Whoa, wait a minute, Doc.” He set his laptop on the cushion and stood, looking tasty in jeans and a sleeveless black top. “I don’t think you should be going anywhere by yourself.”
“I don’t see a whole lot of choice. I don’t want you leaving Jenny and the baby.”
“I wasn’t planning on it. We can bring them with us.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.” She tuned into Jenny talking to Faith in the bathroom. “And it sounds like Faith’s in the bathtub.”
“She spit up—big time. I’ll tell Jenny to hurry.”
She shook her head for the second time, sniffing the spicy scent in the air. “It smells like dinner’s ready.”
“It will be in about five minutes. I made chili.”
“You two go ahead and eat without me. I’ll bring my phone.” She held up her cell phone.
“Doc—”
“I need to go.” She hurried back outside, not wanting to waste any more time debating the issue. If Henry and Daisy were going to get to Nashville for the appointment they would have to leave now. She got in the SUV, driving down the road faster than was technically safe, following the twists and turns she knew well. She made it to town in record time, breezing by the general store and gas station, pulling into Henry and Daisy’s drive, relieved to see their beat-up pickup parked by the small ranch-style home. She walked to the door and knocked.
Daisy answered wearing a long lime-green dress. “Doc Reagan.”
She smiled. “Hi, Ms. Daisy. I’m hoping I might be able to speak with you for a couple of minutes.”
“Yes.” She opened the door wider. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” She stepped into the simple room decorated with several crosses, noticing Henry snoozing in his La-Z-Boy while the TV blared with the excitement of a game show.
Daisy shut off the television. “Henry, Doc Reagan’s here.”
“Huh?” He blinked open his eyes. “What?”
“Doc Reagan.”
Reagan smiled at him, noting the slight blue tinge to his lips and his swollen feet, despite the portable oxygen unit at his side. “Hi, Mr. Henry.”
“What are ya doin’ here?”
“I wanted to stop in for a visit.” She smiled again. “How’s the oxygen helping you?”
“I don’t need no oxygen,” he grumbled then coughed. “Gave up my smokes, didn’t I?”
“Doc Reagan, can I offer you sweet tea?”
“No, thank you. May I sit?”
“Yes. Please.”
She waited for the woman to join her on the lumpy couch. “Ms. Daisy, Mr. Henry, I came by because I’ve been thinking about you quite a bit.”
“That’s real kind of you.” Daisy took her hand.
She gave plump fingers a gentle squeeze, pleased that they were off to a good start. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how sorry I am that I’m not able to help you and Mr. Henry with his care.”
“He’s doin’ some better. Ain’t you, Henry?”
He grumbled his agreement.
Reagan studied the man again, watching his struggle for every breath. “I’m glad to hear it.” She cleared her throat, understanding that this was going to be as difficult as she’d anticipated. Daisy wasn’t willing to accept that Henry wouldn’t be improving. “Ms. Daisy, Mr. Henry, I’ve spent some time over the last few days talking with a few of my colleagues—friends,” she added, wanting to keep the conversation as informal as possible. “I was sharing my concerns about some of my neighbors here in The Gap.”
“We don’t need none of your concern, girl,” Henry spat.
“I have a friend who would like to visit with Mr. Henry,” she went on, ignoring Henry’s comment. “In fact he would love to see Mr. Henry tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Daisy asked.
She nodded. “Doctor Yancey’s down in Nashville—”
“Nashville?” Daisy gaped. “Doc Reagan, that’d be almost five hours away.”
“I ain’t goin’ down to Nashville,” Henry barked and coughed.
“It is a long drive, but I’m hoping you might reconsider. I can help out with gas and a hotel. I’d be happy to treat you and Mr. Henry to a nice dinner and breakfast.”
“That’s real Christian of you.”
She nodded, slightly encouraged. “I’ve studied Mr. Henry’s x-rays dozens of times. I’m certain your diagnosis should be progressive massive fibrosis,” she addressed Henry. “Doctor Yancey agrees.” Or he would.
“Get on out of my house, girl.” He pointed to the door.
“That’s enough now, Henry.” Daisy looked at Reagan. “Now Doc, we ain’t goin’ through this again. We’re seein’ Doctor Jacobson. We have ourselves another appointment next week.”
“Ms. Daisy.” She took the woman’s hand again. “I’m very worried.”
“There’s no need. Henry’s feelin’ fine.”
“Ms. Daisy, I think Mr. Henry needs to be seen sooner. I’m noticing some edema.”
“Edema?” Daisy blinked, looking at Henry. “What’s that?”
“Edema is water retention. See how puffy Mr. Henry’s feet are becoming? Doctor Jacobson really should look at that.”
“I guess I could put in a call—”
“You don’t need to be puttin’ in no calls, Daisy. It’s time for you to be leavin’, girl. Comin’ by to stir up trouble’s what you’re after.” He coughed, tried to stand, and fell back.
Reagan rushed to her feet. “Mr. Henry—”
“You’re makin’ him upset, Doc Reagan.”
“Yes. Okay.” At this point she was doing more harm than good. “Please make the call, Ms. Daisy.”
“It don’t sound like he’s wantin’ me to. Henry’s care is none of your never mind, Doc Reagan,” Daisy’s voice grew stern as she got to her feet. “We’re in good hands with Doctor Jacobson.”
She blinked back tears of frustration as she watched the man struggle to breathe.
“It’s time for you to be on your way.”
“I’ll see myself out.” She glanced back at Henry and walked out, shutting the door, leaning against it, sucking in several shaky breaths of her own. Why wouldn’t they listen to her? How could Daisy insist her husband was fine when he absolutely wasn’t? With nothing more she could do, she walked back to the SUV and got in, searching for the paper she wrote Doctor Yancey’s number on, and dialed.
“Doctor Yancey’s Office.”
“Yes, this is Doctor Reagan Rosner. Can you please put me through to Doctor Yancey’s voicemail.”
“One moment, please.”
“Thank you.”
She backed up while the canned music played in her ear and started toward the cabin.
“You’ve reached Cliff Yancey. Please leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”
“Doctor Yancey, this is Reagan Rosner in Kentucky. I uh—” She swallowed, afraid she would break down. “I’ve spoken with my patient.” She swallowed again, struggling to speak over the ball of emotion caught in her throat. “He’s going to pass on the appointment at this time. Thank you very much for your help.” She hung up, sniffled, wiping at her cheeks as she took the last curve and pulled into her spot in the driveway. Resting her forehead on the steering wheel, she closed her eyes, fighting to steady herself, before she opened her door and went inside.
The warm, delicious scent of chili and cornbread filled her nose while lullabies and cooing filled the air as Faith stared at the mobile dangling above her bouncy seat. Reagan gave Jenny a small smile when
the teen glanced up from her studies. “Hi.”
“Hi. I thought I would get back to it. I’m thinkin’ I might be close to ready. I’m gonna take the practice test tomorrow.”
Her smile warmed. “That’s wonderful.” She moved over to the bouncy seat set in the center of the big table. “Hi, Faithy.”
Faith smiled at her, and her heart melted. “Oh, come see me.” She took the baby out of the seat, snuggling her, breathing in the scent of baby powder, kissing her forehead. “Mmm, this is just what I needed.” She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to the baby’s. “You’re so soft and sweet. I love you, baby girl Faith.” She opened her eyes and looked at Shane standing in the kitchen.
“How’d it go?”
“About as well as I should have expected. He and Daisy don’t want to hear anything I have to say.” Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat as she adjusted Faith in her arms, giving the baby an over-the-shoulder view. “How are things around here?” She gestured to Jenny, wanting a change of subject.
“Okay.”
She nodded. “Good. Faith’s going to come hang out with me for a while.” She moved down the hall to her room, settling the baby in the center of her bed while she took off her work clothes and slid on a pair of sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. Lying down on her side next to the baby, she played with the infant’s tiny fingers and toes. “You’re getting so big.” She picked up the book she’d been reading to the baby before she left for the clinic this morning. “Should we continue with our story?” She adjusted them so they snuggled against her pillow, holding the cloth book close enough to help Faith grab hold of the crinkly sensory piece. “You like that butterfly? Do you like purple, Faith?”
Faith cooed.
She chuckled. “It’s your favorite?”
Faith cooed longer and louder, kicking her legs.
“Your very favorite? It’s a pretty great color.”
“Knock, knock.” Shane stood in the doorway. “I saved you some dinner.”
“Thank you.” She settled Faith in the center of the bed again while the baby yanked and tugged at the fabric. “Cutie Pie and I are reading.”
He stepped farther in. “Good book?”
“She seems to like it.”
