by Dianne Drake
“I finally remembered you,” he said, his voice so quiet and smooth it nearly blended into the dark of the room. “And the funny thing was, when I did, I realized that I’d never forgotten you. Merely put you away as part of a dreadful time in my life. Sometimes it’s easier to not remember, you know. Past deeds, past offenses, people who didn’t deserve what you did to them, just put it all away and go on from there.”
“And how am I supposed to react to that, Michael? Be gracious? Tell you it doesn’t matter anymore? Say that it wasn’t a big deal at the time? Because I’m not gracious. It still does bother me and it was a big deal at the time.” Especially since more than her professional pride had been hurt by him.
“You’re supposed to react any way you want, Alek. That day in class…” He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry for that. And the truth is, I really don’t remember it.”
“Funny how that selective amnesia works well for you, isn’t it? Remember me, don’t remember me. Remember what you did to me that day, don’t remember.”
He laughed bitterly. “You’re close, but it wasn’t amnesia. It was drugs.”
Alek gasped. “What?” she choked.
“Drugs. Amphetamines. And there’s no excuse for what I did. I got caught up, simple as that. There weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish everything I needed to do, then not enough hours to sleep after I had done it all. Something had to give, and it was my reasoning, my common sense. I knew what I was doing, too, Alek. Take a pill in the morning to get me going, take another at night to let me sleep. It’s amazing how easy it becomes. There’s instant energy when you need it, and instant sleep when you don’t. And you tell yourself you’re going to take this one pill and that’s all. No more. But it’s never only one, there’s always more. Tomorrow you need another, and then the next day another. And why not make that two since one seems to work so well? Get yourself more energy, get yourself better sleep.
“Then pretty soon you need an extra one…something in the middle of the day to tide you over. And you justify it by looking at all the extra work you’re getting done. More hours at the hospital, an expanded teaching schedule, more interviews, another book. And the hell of it was, I recommended patients into detox for taking less than I was. Of course, I didn’t have a problem. I could quit anytime I wanted. Right?”
“Michael, I’m so sorry. That day in class…”
“I’m so sorry for that, Alek. Drugs, stress…I’d learned that my dad had been diagnosed with cancer, and I snapped. Which is no excuse for what I did to you. And I wouldn’t have treated you that way if I hadn’t been full of drugs. But that wasn’t me. That was the horrible creature the drugs created, the one who couldn’t see that what he did and what he said was so often out of control.”
“Are you okay now?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “And it wasn’t easy, because the one illusion I always had of myself was that I was strong. Stronger than just about anybody. But when you crave that pill more than the oxygen you breathe, you come to understand how weak you really are. And I wasn’t a saint. Even after that day, I didn’t want a cure. I wanted to deny it, pretend it was just a way to see me through the stress, then when it was over I’d be okay. Excuses. When you’re addicted, excuses are so easy. But the truth is, I’ve been off them only a year now. Which isn’t very noble, since I should have done it long before that.”
“When you quit, was it for yourself? It wasn’t forced on you or anything like that, was it?”
“It was for myself. It has to be in order to work. I was addicted, Alek, and I didn’t want to be, but I was the one who got me into that condition, and I was the one who had to get me out of it.” It was so easy, talking to her. He’d never talked to anyone about this before, not a friend, not his parents. He’d simply checked himself into a clinic one day and done what had to be done. “I was hitting some real low spots long before I got help. One of which you became victim to. And the only reason I even knew what I’d done was because I was taping all my classes in order to come up with some good footage to develop a long-distance continuing education program. I didn’t go back and review the tapes for quite a while and when I did…Let’s just say that I lost sleep over it.”
“So did I,” she said quietly. “And I doubted my abilities, and agonized over how what you said could have ruined my reputation.”
“God, I’m sorry, Alek. No wonder you’ve hated me. Believe me, I would have apologized. I’ve gone back to so many people and done that. Except I didn’t know who they all were. There were so many classes, so many students, and that tape was a jumble, no identifiers to tell me when or who. I really intended to do the research and find you, but my dad took a turn for the worse, and I decided it was time to go straight. My life was one sorry mess, and I simply forgot.” He laughed bitterly. “It’s an easy thing to do in the condition I was in, and I’m surprised you came back and sat through another class with me.”
“To be honest, so am I. But I wanted the certificate, and I decided not to let you bully me out of it. After that, though, you never said a word to me, never called on me again, never even looked at me in passing in the hall. Which was for the best. So how is it that you’re remembering me now?”
“I knew whatever I’d done to you had to be horrible, so I started going over all the horrible things I’ve done, and I kept coming back to what I’d seen on that tape. I didn’t want that to be you, didn’t want it to be anybody I would ever have to face. But it was you, and I guess deep down I knew that. Then the more I thought about your reaction to me and the things you were saying, the more I knew. You were the one who sat in the back row, in the near-dark, and challenged me. The one who always questioned my ways, questioned my teaching, questioned the techniques I was trying to get across to the class. And you were the brightest one to ever come to one of my classes.”
“It’s true that I didn’t always agree with you. But I wouldn’t have said I was challenging you so much as asking for clarification.”
He chuckled. “Clarification is a broad interpretation of the word.”
“So maybe I challenged a little.”
“A lot.”
“Moderately.”
“Moderately,” he agreed. “You were in the same place for every single lecture, always apart from the rest of the class.”
Sitting up, she watched him stand in the doorway, still making no attempt to enter. “Because I was apart from the class, Michael. Their idea of wilderness medicine was doing a little patch-up job during a day trip into the woods while I was hitching up my dog team and mushing out to a village to treat a small outbreak of TB. Different worlds, and we had nothing in common. It was easier that way.”
“Back then you had short hair, like mine, didn’t you? And huge glasses…”
“Corrective eye surgery. Glasses in the wild are an inconvenience.”
“And you were a little heavier.”
“Lots of hard work since then. Not much time to eat all the things I cook for Dimitri.”
“You also smiled. Which you don’t now. And you were nice on the couple of occasions we chatted in the hall. A little defiant in some of your questions, but nice.”
“Which I’m not now,” she supplied.
“You have a harder edge now, yes. And maybe that’s what threw me the most, because in spite of the way you came after me in class, and you did, you were always nice about it.”
“Then you took the dagger to my throat.”
“Because you stood out. The only one who did. You knew as much if not more than me, and in my hazy mind I think I was threatened by you. My life was coming apart, the amphetamine habit was out of control, and there you were, sitting in the back row, so sure of yourself when I was anything but sure. That’s what I wanted to be, Alek. You! And I wasn’t, so you got the brunt of my anger and frustration that day because it was the worst day of my life and I wanted someone else to hurt the way I did. I’m so sorry, and I have no reason to thin
k that you’ll accept my apology. But I hope you will.”
“I do forgive you that incident, Michael. I’ve seen it happen to so many doctors—saw it in med school, saw it throughout my residency. The pressures are hard and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t consider popping a pill a time or two back then. A lot of doctors, and would-be doctors, do it. I happened to be one who didn’t. So I understand what you were going through, and I admire the fact that you got yourself through it. I only wish I’d known at the time. It wouldn’t have been so…difficult.”
“I wish I’d known at the time, too. And don’t admire me. I’m still going through it. Only differently now that I don’t take the pills.”
“Are you ever tempted to relapse?”
“Sure, I’ve been tempted. That demon begging for just one pill is always there. I don’t think it ever goes away.”
“And maybe it shouldn’t. Our experiences mold us into who we are. You’re a good doctor. I saw that in the village. And it’s not only your doctoring skills that are good. It’s the other things—the way you make people comfortable, the way you listen. The way you…” Disarm them. Damn, she was playing right into his hands. Tell her his story, she’ll take pity and back off. Well, not a chance. “You know what, Michael? You were in a bad place and did an admirable thing, and I’m over that part of not liking you. I do sincerely accept your apology. But, trust me, you’ve replaced that motive for not liking you with another one, and it’s even stronger.” She pulled a throw pillow off the end of the sofa and hugged it to her. “Much stronger, considering the reason you’re here.”
Finally, he stepped into the office. Stepped in, shut the door behind him and threw the entire room into darkness. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust and find him, and when she did he was still on the opposite side of the office, standing with his back to the door.
“I think you should go now, Michael. You can stay in my cabin tonight, and if you choose to remain in Elkhorn beyond tomorrow, we’ll find you someplace else.”
“You really can’t understand that all I want to do is protect her, can you?”
“From Dimitri, no, I can’t.”
Michael walked across the room, his footsteps quiet, and paused at the edge of the sofa for a moment, as if weighing his next move. Then he sat down next to her. They were miles apart yet so very close. Closer than she wanted to be, so she pulled further to the end to make sure there was no chance of an unintentional touch of the arms, brush of the thighs. In spite of the anger she was fighting royally to hold on to, what she was feeling right now was anything but anger, and it frightened her because for all her vast inexperience in matters such as this, she knew exactly what it was. And the fact that everything inside her seemed to be betraying her right then made matters worse. “Michael, no…” This was getting too personal, and the one thing she would not be with him was personal.
“No, what? You don’t want to have a civilized chat over this?”
“It’s not our matter to discuss.”
“She wrote him another check, Alek. I’m on her account as a secondary, which makes it my matter to discuss.”
“And what has she said about it? Did you ask her why? Or is it easier to fling accusations without knowing?” Had there been another inch in which to scoot she would have, but short of getting up there was no place left to go. And she wouldn’t give up her spot to him for any reason.
“She said that it’s none of my business, that it’s her money to do with as she sees fit. And my mother has never been a secretive woman, Alek. Never! Except about this.”
“If that’s what she says, then it isn’t any of your business. And she’s right. It is her money.” She understood his protectiveness, but that didn’t alter the facts. Dimitri was not involved in anything wrong. “You’ve got to understand that I’m more than Dimitri’s partner, and I’ll do whatever it takes to watch after someone I love.”
“Well, someone you love is interfering with someone I love and I’m not going to allow anything to happen to her, which puts us at an impasse, doesn’t it? Two people, opposite interests, same need to protect. So where do we go from here?”
A sharp rap at the door ended the debate, and Mariska didn’t wait for Alek to answer before she opened the door and stepped in. “We have an emergency up at Ridgeover, Alek, and they can’t get him in to us in time.”
“Who?” she asked, jumping up from the sofa, glad for any excuse to get away from Michael.
“Bill Waite. They brought him in on the boat from Almick Island complaining of a bellyache, but Oolagon Rock had a look at him and says it’s appendicitis, and he thinks it might even be close to perforating.”
“Temperature?”
“Elevated, but they don’t have a thermometer.”
“Tender to the touch?”
“Oolagon says Bill is screaming like a woman giving birth. Oh, and they’re snowed in pretty well. But the landing strip is clear, and they’re setting out torches right now.”
“Okay, call Dimitri and tell him I’m going north. I was taking on-call, but one of them is going to have to do that. And get my surgical kit ready. I’m going to run home, change my clothes and head on out.”
“ETA?” Mariska asked.
Alek glanced at her watch. “Once I get home I’ve got to call the weather service so, depending on what they say, forty-five minutes, give or take fifteen. Oh, and tell Oolagon I’d rather have iron dogs at the landing strip. I don’t like driving on his roads in a pickup truck.” She laughed. “Or riding on them when he’s driving. And call Walter Rasmussen and tell him to make sure I’m set to go when I get there.”
“Already did,” Mariska said, “and he’s pretty grumpy about being interrupted at this time of the night, but he said he’ll have her out and warmed up for you, and you know what it’s going to cost you.”
Alek nodded. She trusted Walter with her Cessna like she trusted nobody else. He was a bit of a good-natured grump about it every time she asked him to get her plane ready to go, but he calmed right down with the promise of gouryevskaya kasha—a favorite Russian fruit dessert. One of Alek’s specialties.
“And he shall have his gouryevskaya kasha as soon as I get back. Which he already knows. Oh, and give me a good stock of—”
“I know,” Mariska said, sounding a bit peevish. “Antibiotics, pain meds…I’ve been doing this right here in this very clinic since you were in diapers, young lady. Remember? In fact, I’m the one who taught you how to prepare for an outbound.”
Grabbing up her medical bag, Alek headed out the door, gave Mariska a quick kiss on the cheek, then motioned for Michael to follow. “Don’t just stand there, city boy. This is wilderness medicine at its best. You wouldn’t want to miss it, would you?” Probably a dumb thing to do, asking him to come along. But two medical heads and four medical hands during an appendectomy were always better. And any reason to keep him away from Dimitri until she could figure out what to do was welcome. Even if they did have to sit shoulder-to-shoulder in the cabin of the plane and would probably fight every kilometer of the way.
“I’m not quite sure I’m connecting the words ‘landing strip’ with ‘house call’, which is what we’re about to do, isn’t it? Fly to a house call?”
“Yep. We’re flying,” Alek called back as she ran to the front door of the clinic.
“And this Walter who wants gouryevskaya kasha is flying us?”
“You don’t need Dramamine, do you?” she asked as she reached the sidewalk. “It can get a little choppy.”
“No, I don’t need Dramamine,” he returned, running to catch up to her.
“Well, don’t say that I didn’t warn you, because it’s going to be rough on touchdown since we’re using an open field, not a runway.”
“An open field?”
“In a valley, between the mountains. It’s done like that all the time up here, city boy. You take any solid, clear landing you can get. Ice, snow, water, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, land.�
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“And Walter won’t have a problem with that, right?”
Alek laughed aloud as she waved to Dimitri, who stepped out onto his front porch at the precise moment she was passing his house. “I wouldn’t trust Walter two feet off the ground, let alone in a landing of any sort. He’s half-blind. Diabetic retinopathy. Good flyboy in his day, though.”
“And yet you’re letting him fly us?”
“No, I’m flying us. I’m the pilot, Michael. Have been for years.” Nearly ten years, actually. “Walter was my instructor, though.”
Michael stopped dead on the sidewalk as Alek scooted up the walk to Dimitri’s cabin. “I’m taking him with me,” she said to Dimitri, then laughed. “I think. Although he’s looking pretty queasy about it,”
“I called the weather service for you, and by the time you get to the plane I’ll have a flight plan put in for you, too. So you’re good to go.”
“I’d be glad to dump Michael and take you along, if you want,” she said sympathetically. Dimitri had been the pilot until a year ago, when he’d failed the vision test, and she knew it bothered him that he couldn’t make these calls any longer. At least, not as the pilot. “Maggie can cover, and that idiot son of hers can help if she needs it. It could be really good, Dimitri, just the two of us again. And I know Oolagon would love to see you.” Oolagon was a healer of sorts. In actuality, he was a retired engineer who’d spent years in an oil refinery then returned to his home for an easier life, which was looking after the people on the northern end of the peninsula. He’d taken basic medic training from Dimitri, which was a blessing because Ridgeover, which sat on the other side of the line demarcating the Arctic Circle, and so many other areas up there were almost cut off from everything during the winter months.
“I think you need to get there faster than I can travel now,” Dimitri said.
“I’m going in on an iron dog,” she said, trying to tempt him, because Dimitri did love a good ride on a snow machine.
