At Odds with the Midwife

by Patricia Forsythe

  He sat back and stared at the items in his hands, recalling how she had gone along with Mandy’s wish to have her baby at home, with a midwife. Mandy had insisted she would buy everything her baby needed, but their mother had seen that no preparations had been made and took it upon herself to do so. That was typical of her, but he didn’t know why she’d kept them after Mandy’s death. She had simply sealed them up and put them away. They were as pristine as the day she’d bought them, frozen in time.

  “Twenty years.” If his nephew had lived, he would be a man now, starting out in life, working at a job, maybe going to college. And what about Mandy? Would she have overcome her demons, been a loving, involved mother? He thought so because even though he’d wondered about his parents’ affection for him, he had never once doubted that his sister loved him.

  Nate eyed the other two boxes. There were probably answers to his questions in one or both of them.

  He was reaching over to open the second box when his phone rang. The call was from the sheriff’s office so he answered right away.

  “Doc?” Junior Fedder shouted. “I’m at the scene of a crash out on Sky Mountain Drive about a mile west of Highway Six. No one seems to be seriously hurt, but the paramedics can’t get here because they’re tied up with other accidents. Can you come?”

  “Be right there.” Glad of the distraction, for the chance to slip into professional mode and forget the ghosts that were haunting him, Nate hung up, grabbed his medical bag and hurried to his car through rain that was falling sideways, in drenching sheets. He was going to get the hospital reopened, no matter what. This situation couldn’t go on. People’s lives were at risk with competent medical care so far away.

  As he drove away, he thought about the boxes waiting for him. They would be there whenever he was ready to deal with them. That was one thing about his past. It was always there.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE FIVE POINTS CASINO was a well-lit and inviting place, Cole decided as he squeezed his eyes shut and then popped them open wide, trying to see his poker hand. He appreciated that the Native American tribes were so enterprising that they’d built these casinos for people like him. They were places to get away, to leave your troubles behind, relax and have fun. And it was decorated with plush carpet and beautiful colors on the walls. Even Yvette would like it—if the paint job lived up to her prissy standards, that is.

  He’d rolled in at about two o’clock in the morning and immediately felt at home. An employee had shown him the conveniently placed ATM so he could withdraw some cash to buy chips. A pretty waitress in a barely there dress had kept him supplied with drinks, and he’d made a new friend.

  “Cole, are you in or out?”

  Bleary-eyed, Cole looked at the man who’d introduced himself as Fennerman but hadn’t said if that was his first name or his last. Didn’t matter. He was a good old guy, about his dad’s age, but bald and craggy looking, like he’d been in fights, or had too many bouts with a bottle. It was obvious that Fennerman had pursued a hard life that didn’t look to be getting any better. Cole thought he seemed familiar, like they’d met somewhere before, but trying to make his alcohol-soaked brain remember where was too much trouble.

  “I’m thinking,” Cole said, closing one eye and trying to focus on his cards, but he couldn’t tell if he was holding clubs or spades unless he put the cards close to his face. Maybe he’d had too much to drink. He was good at poker, usually won when he played with his friends, but so far, he’d lost more than he’d won. A lot more. Some spark of common sense and self-preservation surfaced. He put down his cards and looked at the wobbly figures of the other men at the table, all strangers to him. “Nah. I’m out.”

  “So am I,” Fennerman said. “In fact, I think I’d better take my new friend here and let him sleep it off.” He hooked an arm under Cole’s and hauled him to his feet. “Gather up your chips,” he ordered. “You’re cashing in for the night.”

  Cole was grateful to have someone to lean on as they weaved their way to the cashier, then outside to a waiting car. Fennerman stuffed him into the backseat and Cole lay down on the cushioned softness. He barely noticed that his friend had slipped behind the wheel and started the car before he closed his eyes and passed out completely.

  The place where he woke up wasn’t his house, Cole realized. He had to peel his face off the plastic seat of a too-short sofa when he tried to lift his head. The action caused nausea to fill his throat. Climbing awkwardly to his feet, he knocked against a coffee table, causing it to skitter across the linoleum floor. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he had to find a bathroom, and quick. He opened a couple of doors before he found it and lurched inside.

  When he came out of the bathroom, he tried to make sense of where he was, but now that his gut felt better, his head was pounding so hard he couldn’t think. He zigzagged back to the sofa and passed out again.

  When he woke the second time, he could smell food cooking, which made his stomach flip and he groaned. He couldn’t manage to crank his eyes open until he heard a voice calling his name.

  “Cole. Cole, I’m glad to see you’re waking up. Come on, buddy, sit up and drink this.”

  Someone propped him up and wrapped his hand around a glass, then guided it to his lips. When he realized it was water, he gulped it greedily until the glass was empty. It was taken away and he managed to open his eyes enough to see an older gentleman leaning over him.

  “Thanks,” he croaked, then cleared his throat as he looked around. “Where am I?”

  “Five Points.”

  “And who are you?”

  “Name’s Fennerman. We met last night. Played poker.”

  Automatically, Cole slapped his hand to his hip, looking for his wallet. Fennerman shook his head. “Don’t worry. Nobody took anything from you. Everything you won is there, but it wasn’t much.” He went into the kitchen and came back with Cole’s wallet and keys. “Your vehicle is still parked at the casino. When you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to get it.”

  “Uh, thanks.” Cole couldn’t resist checking his wallet for his credit and debit cards, as well as the cash. He wished he could remember exactly how much he’d lost last night. He looked back at Fennerman. “Is this your place?”

  “Yeah, such as it is.” The other man glanced around at the cheap furnishings. “Been here a few weeks. I work part-time at the casino, dealing blackjack.”

  When Fennerman turned his head, a memory stirred in Cole’s mind, but he was still too hungover to make sense of it.

  “I cooked some food. You need to eat something to counteract all that alcohol.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Cole rested his head back against the sofa until his new friend put a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him. With a nod of thanks, he took a few tentative bites to see if it would stay down. When it settled in his stomach and stayed there, he wolfed down the rest of the food. “That was good. Thanks. My wife never cooked eggs until...” A jolt raced through him. “Yvette.”

  “Is that your wife?”

  “Yeah. I gotta call her.” He looked around for his phone and checked his pockets. “My phone...”

  “Must still be in your vehicle.” Fennerman handed over his own phone then gathered the empty dishes and returned to the kitchen. He made a noisy show of washing up as Cole punched in Yvette’s number and waited for her to answer. Instead, his mom picked up.

  “Yvette’s phone. This is Margery speaking,” she sang out.

  “Mom?” he said tentatively. “Where’s Yvette? Why didn’t she answer her phone? Is she all right?”

  “Cole Destry Burleigh!” his mom shrieked. “Oh, as if you care. She’s fine and the baby’s fine. No thanks to you! Where are you? Why aren’t you home with your pregnant wife? Do you realize she was alone all night waiting for you? She finally called us this morning
after Gemma Whitmire got here.”

  “Gemma? Why was she there?” Through the fog that still clouded his brain, he remembered being plenty mad at Nathan and Gemma—mostly Gemma.

  “She was doing her job of checking on her patient since you weren’t doing your job as Yvette’s husband.” His mom started to yell at him some more, but then the phone was snatched away and his dad yelled at him for a while. Furtively, he covered the earpiece to block his dad’s booming voice as he glanced over his shoulder. Fennerman had gone into the bedroom and shut the door. Finally, Cole shouted down his dad and insisted on talking to Yvette.

  “Hello, Cole.” His wife’s soft voice in his ear brought him immediate comfort. “Are you okay? I called and texted but you never answered.”

  “I’m okay. I’ll be home in a few hours. What happened? Why was Gemma there? You didn’t call her, did you? You know you’ve got a doctor you can call, and it’s not Nathan Smith, either.”

  His wife didn’t even bother to answer. She hung up on him and when he called back, her phone went straight to voice mail.

  He slammed his fist against his knee, then dropped his face into his hands. This was hell, he thought. He was losing control of his wife, of his whole life, and it wasn’t even his fault.

  Cole stood up shakily when Fennerman came into the room. He handed over the phone and said, “Thanks for your help. Can you take me back to my truck? I’ve got to get home.”

  “Sure, but with this storm, road conditions are terrible, and you’re still in no condition to drive.”

  “I gotta get home.”

  “You can try, but there are road closures all over the place. It’ll take you a long time to get back to Reston. Be best if you waited at least until the rain stops.”

  Cole ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, I guess.” A thought swam up through the swamp of alcohol in his mind. “Hey, how did you know I’m from Reston?”

  Fennerman shrugged. “I had your wallet, remember? Looked at your driver’s license.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Cole fell silent. Something about this still bothered him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

  Fennerman brought him a cup of coffee and asked, “Have you lived in Reston very long?”

  Cole couldn’t figure out why the old guy was so interested in him but decided maybe he was trying to be polite since they were stuck there for a while. Besides, he could spare the time. If his parents were at the house, Yvette was okay, and her hanging up on him had convinced him she wasn’t worried about him. Probably didn’t care anything about him, anyway.

  Cole watched the other man from his spot on the sofa. The old guy wasn’t going to try to keep him here, was he? Physically, he was no match for Cole. If he tried to hold him, Cole was sure he could knock the old guy down, but he didn’t want to do that. Maybe Fennerman was right. More sobering up was needed and rain was pouring down like he’d never seen it.

  This wasn’t the kind of rain they’d been having—relentlessly falling for hours on end. This was a mean storm, with a cutting, sideways wind that slapped the falling water across the pavement. Cole was amazed to see actual whitecaps whipping up on top of the puddles.

  Distracted by the storm, it took him a while to bring his mind back to what Fennerman had asked.

  “In Reston? All my life,” he answered and went on to talk about his family, especially his wife, and the baby they were expecting. Once he started talking, he didn’t stop, telling Fennerman about Gemma and how she was trying to turn his wife against him. Cole decided not to mention how she and Nate had humiliated him all those years ago. This was about the way she and Nate were screwing up his life now.

  Cole looked around, wishing he had another drink. He could ask—after all, it was after lunchtime. And Fennerman looked like the kind of guy who was no stranger to the bottle. Then he recalled that he was trying to sober up so he could get home. Suppressing his need for something stronger, he drank some more water and had coffee instead.

  “Things were fine until Gemma came back to town, and Nathan Smith, too.”

  “Nathan Smith.” Fennerman looked up, but his tone was even when he said, “Tell me about him.”

  “Went off to Okie City and got himself made into a doctor, but when some people in town decided to reopen the hospital, he had to get involved. Got this big idea to start a doctor practice, too, and be the one in charge of the hospital—the same place his old man ruined by stealing all the money. Yeah, we’ve been without a hospital for a while, but it’s not that bad. Paramedics come if you call ’em. Everybody goes to Toncaville or Claybourne if they need a doctor. What I’d like to know is if old Nate’s actually the one who’s got that money, and where’s it hidden. I’ve been asking that question, but I don’t get an answer.”

  “What makes you think Nathan has it?”

  Cole gave him an are-you-kidding-me? look. “His dad stole it, right? Nate says he didn’t know, but I don’t believe him. A lot of other people don’t, either. You know what’s funny, though?”

  “What’s that?”

  Cole’s new friend had an edge to his voice, but Cole ignored it. He liked being able to talk like this, tell someone exactly what he thought. “I heard they’ve been fund-raising like crazy, but they’re still way short of the money they need to finish the renovations and get the place open.” He snorted. “They even had a bunch of people from town coming in to do the painting, fancy murals all over the walls.”

  Fennerman stood suddenly, startling Cole, but the other man only walked to the window, crossed his arms over his chest and stood staring out at the raging storm. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Cole emptied his coffee cup, set it down, then rested his head against the back of the sofa and fell asleep again.

  He didn’t know how long he slept, but when Cole woke, Fennerman was back in his chair and the rain had let up.

  “Um, sorry,” Cole said, sitting up and craning his neck to look out the window. The movement made the hammer-and-anvil action in his head ratchet up, but he tried to ignore it. “Rain’s not coming down so hard. I’d better go.”

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about before you do.” Fennerman gestured toward the sofa. “Keep your seat. This won’t take long.”

  Fennerman picked up a letter-sized envelope from the coffee table. “What would you think if I gave you money to take back to Reston to give to the hospital board of directors?”

  Cole’s nose wrinkled up as he stared in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

  “Charity. Being a Good Samaritan. Take your pick.”

  “How much money are we talking about here?”

  When Fennerman told him, Cole stared at him, then glanced around the cheap apartment. “Where’d you get that kind of money? Rob a bank?”

  Fennerman shrugged. “Gambling. Sometimes I’m really bad at it, and sometimes I’m good.” He waved the envelope in the air. “This is a cashier’s check for that amount, made out to the board of directors. If you don’t take it now, I won’t have it for long.”

  The old guy’s face twisted as if he was fighting both anger and disgust. Cole took the envelope from Fennerman’s now-shaky fingers.

  “For the Reston Hospital?” Cole was having a really hard time processing this. “That’s a lot of charity.”

  “What do you say? Do you want to do it or not?”

  Cole scratched his head. “I don’t know. Could I get in trouble for this?”

  “Nah.” Fennerman licked his lips and stared at the envelope as if he wanted to snatch it back. “You’re just the delivery man. And the check can only be cashed at a bank by the people it’s made out to, so it’s not like you can profit from this.”

  “But why do you—”

  “If you don’t want to do it, I’ll find someone else,” Fennerman snapped.

  “Wait
a minute, wait a minute,” Cole said. “I gotta think.”

  “No, you’ve got to go.” The older man pointed toward the window. “Rain’s almost stopped. You want to get going before it starts up again and if roads are blocked it’ll take you longer to get home. All you’re doing is making a delivery, and didn’t you say you had to get home to your wife?”

  Yvette. Oh, yeah. This whole mess had started because he’d been trying to impress Yvette with his painting skills. She’d be really impressed if he showed up with enough money to help the hospital project that was suddenly so important to her.

  “Okay,” he said, standing up. He wobbled a little bit, but he was okay. Cole glanced at the clock. He didn’t know when his last drink had been, but he was sure it was many hours ago. “I’ll do it.”

  He folded the envelope and stuck it in his back pocket.

  Fennerman nodded, but his expression was regretful, only adding to Cole’s confusion. “Good. Do you know who’s on the hospital board of directors?”

  “Well, yeah.” Cole had to think about the people who’d been on the stage at the meeting he’d attended. “Brantley Clegg, for one.”

  “Then take the check to him. He can take it straight to his bank.”

  Fennerman hustled him out to his car and drove the few blocks to the casino parking lot, where Cole’s truck was waiting. Once Cole was out of his car, Fennerman called out his thanks, gave a wave and was gone.

  Cole climbed into his truck thinking there was something fishy about this whole setup, but he was too eager to amaze his wife to give it the thought it needed. He opened the envelope and looked at the check. Sure enough, it was a huge amount, more money than Cole had seen. Even the most prosperous cattle buyers at his family’s sale barn didn’t write checks this big.

  Yeah, he’d take this to Mr. Clegg, and he’d look like a hero. Nobody would expect Cole Burleigh to save the hospital. He paused as something teased his memory. He didn’t remember telling Fennerman that Mr. Clegg was a banker. Or had he? Cole was still too hungover to remember clearly.