The Christmas Remedy

by Cindy Woodsmall

  The door to the back offices opened. “You have a good day, Amos. Remember, no lifting anything!” a gentle female voice emphasized.

  An Amish man in his midfifties chuckled. One of his arms was in a sling. “I’ll try, Doc.”

  “You get that boy of yours to move everything when you’re working in your shop—even if you think you can do it. And come see me next week.” A woman walked into the waiting room, her golden-brown eyes lighting up when she spotted Brandon. This had to be Julie. She pulled back the sleeve of her crisp white coat to look at her watch. “Wow, I’m actually on schedule today.” She walked across the waiting area and extended a hand to Brandon. “Julie Wilson.”

  He shook it, noticing how pleasantly firm her handshake was, despite her soft and slender hand. “Brandon Greene.”

  “I figured. We haven’t met in person, but I’m sure you have been told many times that you are the spitting image of your dad.” She laughed and smiled in a way that eased his concern about her accepting his apology, and his mood lifted.

  “Oh, I’ve heard that plenty. And I haven’t quite decided whether it’s a compliment or an insult.”

  She chuckled again. “Just a minute. Let me get rid of this coat, and we can go out for a quick bite. That is, if you are up for it. Or we can talk here if you’d rather. I’m just starting my break.”

  “Sure, let’s talk over lunch.” He watched as she quickly walked back behind the door to the private offices and reemerged without her white coat and stethoscope. She flipped her shoulder-length, highlighted brown hair out of her collar and smoothed her dress. Her clothing looked professional yet hinted of a style the Amish would approve of…for an Englisch girl.

  “All right, ready.” She nodded at Brandon and started for the front door. “Frances, er—my boss, Dr. Martel, likes to eat around one, so we have almost an hour. I usually go to the diner on the corner. They know me, and the price is right for almost daily lunches. Wait. You grew up here. You probably know about all the restaurants in town. Maybe I should be getting tips from you.”

  “I don’t know about getting town info from me, but lunch at the diner sounds great.” Brandon surprised himself by how much he meant it. They walked out the front door into the sunshine. Brandon knew which diner she was talking about. He had eaten there a few times as a kid and more often as a teen when working with his dad. He’d been gone from his hometown eight years, which simultaneously felt like an eternity and no time at all.

  As they rounded the corner, Julie turned to him. “So what did you want to talk about? Your message was pretty vague. You concerned about your dad?”

  “Well, yes, but I wanted to talk about the health fair.” His cheeks felt hot in anticipation of what he was about to say. “I messed up.” He quickly explained about the call and what he’d said and then glanced at Julie to see her reaction.

  Her face didn’t betray any anger or frustration. She nodded. “Yes, I can see someone taking the pharmacist at his word. The Amish certainly have a different view of us as health professionals than we have of ourselves. Most of them call me Doc Jules even though I’m a nurse practitioner.”

  “They call my dad ‘doc’ as well. Always have.” Brandon opened the door to the diner and held it as Julie stepped through. They sat down on shiny metal stools at the fifties-style bar.

  A waitress brought Julie a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of ice water. She turned to Brandon. “And you, hon?”

  “Same for me, please.” As the waitress left and walked over to the coffee station, he looked Julie in the eyes. “Really, I’m sorry about the fair. It was not my intent to waste anyone’s time or money.”

  “I forgive you. I know you’re going through a lot right now with your dad.” She picked up a packet of sugar and shook it.

  He appreciated that she didn’t brush off the apology or tell him not to worry about it.

  She tore open the packet and stirred the sugar into the hot coffee. “It is a setback, true, but Lyle, Holly, and I will keep trying to find ways to serve the Amish community’s health needs.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” He didn’t know her that well, but he had no doubts that his dad and Holly would do everything in their power to serve the community—even at the expense of everything else.

  The waitress returned with Brandon’s drinks, took their lunch order, and left.

  “How’s your dad doing?”

  “As well as can be expected. He hates having to rest. I need to come up with something productive he can do so he doesn’t drive himself crazy.”

  “I can understand. He takes his work seriously.”

  “May I ask you a question?” Brandon hoped his inquiry wouldn’t be considered prying.

  “Sure.”

  “You seem really smart and hardworking. Why come here? Why the Amish? You aren’t from this town and don’t have family connections that I know of.”

  She nodded again. “I guess what sparked my interest initially is that I did some research on the Amish when I was in school. They are an interesting faction healthwise because they are a closed community. They have some unique genetic issues, but they lead a considerably more active lifestyle than your average American. In a way it’s like looking back through time. How would our great-great-great-grandparents do if they had access to modern medicine? It’s thought provoking to me.”

  “I guess that’s interesting.” He still wasn’t quite convinced of the need for her to live in Raysburg.

  “It’s not just about a lifespan but also about quality of life.” She gestured with the spoon she’d used to stir her coffee. “There’s a need, especially in rural communities like this one. Frances Martel and Lyle Greene began something almost thirty years ago that was unprecedented—serving a population that had previously received very poor health care. There’s no telling what the long-term outcomes will be, and I want to be a part of the ongoing process. You know, the younger generation coming in to help carry the workload. And, yes, I could work in a city and make more money and even make a positive difference in people’s lives. But there is no one else out here doing what the Martel Clinic and Greene’s Pharmacy are doing—putting the Plain, less advantaged folk ahead of profits.”

  “The problem is, if Dad doesn’t start making money, I’m not sure how long he can continue to stay open.” Brandon sipped his black coffee. Not the quality brew he was used to getting in the city but not bad.

  The waitress arrived with their food, and they began eating.

  “I’ve worried about that myself, to be honest.” Julie wiped her mouth and took a drink. “I know only a little about the acquisition prices of drugs, but I do know that Lyle sells most of his medicines at a lower price than the chain pharmacies, and yet the chains buy in bulk, so they pay less for every drug. Added to that, Lyle often gives breaks to Amish patients who are having trouble affording their medicine.”

  Brandon took a drink from his mug. “He needs to scale that back a bit or at least find new ways to make money, such as getting better insurance contracts for his Englisch patients and upping his immunization rates. I don’t think he actually knows about that stuff. They didn’t teach those things when he was in pharmacy school. He’s focused on treating patients, which is great, but he also needs to know how the new systems work in order to have a sustainable business model.”

  “Those are good ideas. If only he knew someone fresh out of school who could help him implement solutions like that. Maybe someone who might look a little like him. Maybe someone sitting at this counter…” She trailed off, grinning.

  He chuckled. “Sorry, but I’m not interested, not even a little intrigued. Besides, he’s very set in his ways. If he wouldn’t listen to Todd ten years ago, a man he admired and once thought he wanted to take on as a partner, he’s not going to listen to some greenhorn like me. And…I have way more school debt to pay off than I c
an earn in that pharmacy.”

  “Are your loans from the government?”

  He nodded.

  “Then you can apply to repay your debt based on a sliding scale. The less you make, the less the monthly payment is. From what Dr. Martel says, Todd wanted change. He wanted to veer away from helping the Amish. I think Lyle would let go of his stubbornness if he realized running things a little differently could secure the pharmacy’s future.”

  “Maybe, but I’m not cut out for a farming community or the paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle.”

  Curiosity danced in her eyes. “More a city man, huh?”

  The waitress refilled their glasses, and Brandon let the conversation drop.

  A couple of minutes later Julie shifted the topic to commiserating over all-night study sessions while finishing their respective degrees. Brandon offered to pay for her meal. In his mind it was part of his apology, but she declined. They paid their separate tabs and walked to the door.

  “One thing about a small rural town. It doesn’t have much to offer in the way of a social life. We should do this again sometime.” Julie opened the front door of the diner.

  Brandon took hold of the door and held it open while they both exited. She wasn’t talking about a date or anything romantic, or at least it didn’t seem that way to him. She was simply asking to have an enjoyable conversation over lunch as one interesting young professional to another. “Yes, we should.”

  When the words left his mouth, he found himself looking forward to having another lunch with her, and he realized he hadn’t looked forward to anything in a long time, even something as small as a chat with a new friend. What kind of life was he building in the city if that was the case?

  Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty. Holly carefully counted the Zofran pills into the side of her tray, using her plastic pill-counting spatula. She scooped them back into the center of the tray and counted again. The semimundane routine tasks at the pharmacy helped soothe her worries. The failure of the health fair was sixteen days behind her, and each day brought a little more acceptance than the one before it. There would be other opportunities. As much as the health fair disaster had felt like the end of the world, it wasn’t. She was still here working, helping.

  The front door chimed as a customer entered.

  “Good afternoon. Welcome to Greene’s,” Holly called out.

  The man was about Lyle’s age and had thin gray hair. He had a folder in his hand and was wearing a striped blue dress shirt and a solid navy tie. He smiled as he walked toward the prescription drop-off area. While headed her way, he glanced behind the counter. “Good afternoon, young lady. My name is David Roberts, and I’m from the Pennsylvania State Board of Pharmacy. Is Lyle about?”

  Board of Pharmacy? Lyle once told her that several of his pharmacy school classmates were on the board, and since they knew him personally, they understood his regulation-abiding mind-set. So the board didn’t bother to inspect Greene’s often. This was her first time to see anyone from the board in Greene’s Pharmacy. Was David here to check on Lyle after his stroke?

  All things considered, Lyle was doing really well. Even though he’d had his stroke just three weeks earlier, he’d begun working in the over-the-counter section of the pharmacy a few days ago, albeit very slowly and carefully. No one wanted him to slow down his recovery time or risk another injury, but keeping Lyle out of his beloved pharmacy was a fight they’d lost.

  Lyle walked around one of the over-the-counter shelves filled with antacid medications and came to a stop behind the man and patted him on his shoulder. “David, good to see you. It appears you’ve met my lead tech of ten years, Holly Zook.” He looked at Holly. “David’s a board inspector.”

  Could this visit mean they’d done something wrong? The laws for pharmacies were plenteous and strict. It came to her why he might be here. Pharmacy hours had to be listed in numerous places, the front door and online being the most common, and the pharmacy had to be open during those hours with a licensed pharmacist on duty. But Greene’s had closed for several hours the morning of Lyle’s stroke until the relief pharmacist could arrive. But surely the board could understand a medical emergency.

  “Good to see you, Lyle.” David smiled as he returned Lyle’s shoulder pat. “Wow. You look much better than I expected.”

  “Thanks. I think that’s a compliment.” Lyle chuckled. “Hope I’m still feeling well after you tell me why you’re here today. I take it this isn’t a social call.”

  “It’s not.” David’s smile faltered. “But nothing is going on that we can’t figure out, I’m sure. Do you have a private place we can talk?”

  “Absolutely. It’ll be a little cramped, but let’s step inside the break room.” He turned to Holly. “Get Brandon, please. I want the two of you to listen to this meeting as well.” He returned his attention to David. “I’m sure you understand. My memory hasn’t been as reliable as I would like it to be since the stroke.”

  “Of course, Lyle.” David motioned with his hand. “After you.”

  The two men went toward the break room, and Holly found Brandon sitting on a stool in the back of the prescription area, working on a stack of paperwork while muttering under his breath about insurance contracts.

  “Brandon, a pharmacy board inspector is here. Your dad wants us all to meet in the break room.”

  “Great.” Brandon sighed and pushed the stack of papers back.

  It didn’t sound as if he thought it was great. Were they in trouble for closing the pharmacy the morning of Lyle’s stroke? Or was it something else entirely?

  “Did he say why?” Brandon hopped off his stool and moved toward the gate.

  Holly shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.”

  After they entered the break room, Lyle closed the door and introduced Brandon to David. The two shook hands.

  “I think the last time I saw you was when your mom and dad had me over for dinner more than two decades ago.” David held his hand flat a few feet over the floor. “You were no taller than my hip.” His jovial smile faded as he tapped the file in his hand, and the four of them took seats around the table. “Okay. Let’s get to it. We have reason to believe Greene’s Pharmacy filled five medications without prescriptions—all for the same man on the same date.”

  What? Holly couldn’t believe it. Why would Lyle fill a medicine without a prescription? Even in an emergency situation, he could call the Martel Clinic. Doc Jules or Doc Martel would return his call, regardless of the time or day of the week.

  David pulled a sheet out of the folder, but he held on to it. “We’re looking at five prescriptions for one Sam Miller.”

  Lyle’s eyes were wide. He took the paper from David and studied it, his face draining of color.

  David gestured toward the sheet. “Each of the five scripts is missing the prescribing doctor’s NPI number, name, and phone number, and all we have on the patient is his name.”

  “That’s serious, Dad. I know it is.” Brandon put a hand on his dad’s shoulder. “But don’t let it upset you. Breathe. Steady your heart. The most important thing is your health.”

  Holly’s pulse thudded against her temples. “I’m not sure I fully understand what’s going on. Everyone in the pharmacy is meticulous about logging data. Lyle has trained all of us to be that way, but what’s the significance of information being missing?”

  Lyle studied the paper. “The data would prove a doctor wrote the prescriptions. Otherwise it appears as if I wrote the scripts, and it’s illegal for any pharmacist to write a script.”

  Illegal? Holly’s head spun. “But how would the board get the information on that sheet? Did someone from Greene’s contact them, saying this was handled illegally?” She looked from Lyle to the inspector.

  “David isn’t at liberty to answer that question, H
olly. It’s certainly possible someone from Greene’s contacted him,”—Lyle tapped his fingers on the table—“especially since we have relief pharmacists working here. Harris, Todd, and Adrienne. They could’ve felt it was their obligation to go to the board rather than come to me.”

  Holly wanted to pound her fist on the table. “But whoever did this wanted to cause trouble for us. Who would go to the board rather than coming to you?” When Brandon’s name came to mind, she locked eyes with him.

  He held up both hands. “Why are you looking at me?”

  “Holly.” Lyle leaned in and put his hand over hers. “I doubt anyone’s out to get us. If someone sent in a report, they were trying to do the right thing, perhaps concerned their license could be in jeopardy if they didn’t report it. But a state board member has to come and inspect a pharmacy whenever the pharmacist-in-charge changes, and that happened within days of my stroke. A board member could’ve visited anytime in the last three weeks when we weren’t in the pharmacy. Maybe the file David has is from that visit.”

  David cleared his throat. “All we need to focus on is finding out what happened regarding those five prescriptions. Although a board member coming to Greene’s is unusual, visits like this are a normal part of pharmacy operations. Remember when BB Drugs reported you about a decade ago? They had what they thought was a false prescription that you transferred to one of their stores. I came to see you and cleared the report the same day. I hope that’s the outcome today also.”

  Lyle set the paper on the table. “It says here I filled them on Sunday, October fifteenth.” Lyle drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. “That’s the day I lost.”

  “Lost?” David angled his head.