He stopped drinking before the urge to drain it became unbearable. No food in almost three full days of serious hiking, just water. At least he wouldn’t miss the gym for a while. The flash of white caught his attention as he lowered his canteen. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and then dismissed it. He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to clear his vision when he saw it again.
It was back, or maybe it had never left him. He wasn’t sure, having paid less attention to his surroundings at the pace he’d set.
As he felt the heat of the day fall on him, he wondered if his imagination was working overtime. Weren’t there legends about visions? Maybe he was having one, in the middle of Oregon. He almost laughed. He was starting to lose it too. Great.
He capped his canteen and didn’t move. He was hot and ached. Starving was just another fact. The flash of white streaked by again, just beyond the trees. Rubbing his eyes harder, he was surprised to find it still there, but it had stopped, just out of sight. He could barely make out the tail, like a white banner against the fading light of the coming sunset. It twitched once when he stood. He didn’t move again in case it bolted, but instead, it simply waited. Disbelief had him shaking his head. What did he have to lose?
“I know I’m imagining this. Do you want me to follow you?” he asked quietly, no longer concerned with who thought he might be nuts, and the tail twitched again. The animal didn’t move but he heard a click. He cringed when he realized it had snapped its jaws at him. “I am going crazy,” he said under his breath as he carefully followed the tail out of the trees.
He didn’t know how long he followed it or how far he had gone when he found himself in a clearing. As the animal stopped at the next line of trees and blended into the foliage, he realized with a feeling of wonder that he was standing at the top of the trail. At the very least, a trail that he knew he could follow. He spun on a heel looking for the wolf, but found he was alone. The wolf was gone. He searched, half hoping that somehow it would still be there, but knew even as far as visions went, he shouldn’t be looking for it at all. Accepting that he had found a way out, he dug a pit and made another small fire, doing it the same way he had the night before and on more countless nights over his life than he could count. He settled down close to the little beacon of light, ready to make the march in the morning for civilization when there was a stirring in the trees. He lifted his head, the dark line of the trees becoming impenetrable in the falling darkness. Cautiously the wolf moved forward, a limp form in its jaws. It dropped the rabbit carcass several feet from him then began to back away, its gray luminous eyes watching him intensely.
“Wait!” he whispered, unsure why or if it mattered. He realized he was imagining all of this; he had to be. The wolf froze at the sound of his voice. Then it sat back on its haunches and stared at him.
“Why are you here? Are you a vision? A dream?” He swallowed thickly as the animal tilted its head, listening to him. It clicked its jaws at him again with a raw snap.
He smiled at it, not in the least concerned. Visions weren’t real. “Sorry. Not my language.” It appeared to him the animal smiled back at him as it stood gracefully. In the distance, there was a howl, long and deep. It caused a shiver to rise over his skin. He watched with acute fascination as the one before him lifted its head and answered with a long soulful sound that reverberated through the night and filled him with wonder.
Without a glance back at him it slipped back into the trees. “Thank you, my white beauty,” he whispered into the darkness. A faint yip reached him on a breeze from the way she had vanished, and then there was silence.
TWO
Six years later
“Paging Doctor Benedetti. Paging Doctor Benedetti. Please call extension two-four-one.”
Bram Benedetti barely lifted his head, his expression intent on the chart he held in his hand as the page echoed down the corridor. When he addressed his patient, his smile was warm. “Mr. Logan. You’re ready to be released. Is your daughter coming to get you?”
Mr. Logan returned the assessing gaze of his favorite doctor, saying with aplomb and barely disguised hopefulness, “I wish you and Phyllis got along better.”
“Sorry. My bedside manner doesn’t have to include family members,” he returned with an easy smile. And not for cupid intending fathers, either. He didn’t let his thoughts show on his face. “If you have any problems, make sure you or she contacts me immediately. I don’t want to see you back in here again for something as simple as a missed dose flare up. Understood?” He wrote his recommendations down on the chart as Mr. Logan slipped from the exam table.
“I know. I know. It was my fault anyway.”
“I understand.” Doctor Benedetti’s words were patient for Mr. Logan. It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned his unwed daughter. “Just take better care of yourself, will you? I like the money, but don’t make me charge you if I don’t have to.”
Mr. Logan’s expression brightened. Bram knew that was one of the things Mr. Logan liked about him, and why he always tried to get him to ask his daughter out. The patient came first. Mr. Logan shook his hand. “That I can understand,” was Mr. Logan’s reply.
“Paging Doctor Benedetti.”
“I need to get that. Goodbye, Mr. Logan.” Leaving the exam room to answer the page, Bram dropped the chart off at the nurse’s station and he picked up the plain white auxiliary phone on the station desk. He slipped his pen into the pocket of his whites with an unconscious move. “Doctor Benedetti.”
“Bram. It’s about time. I was on hold forever. Why didn’t you call me back? Just because we’re divorced doesn’t mean you can just drop me like a damn container for refuse.”
He cringed as soon as he heard the voice on the other end. The tension knot he’d almost forgotten about in his back reappeared, and it brought relatives. “Rebecca, this isn’t the place. I’m on duty.” He rubbed the tired spot between his eyes.
“Well, when will it be the right time? Tell me that?” she sniped.
He held his temper in check as he told her, “We are divorced. As in not married. Can’t you just let it be?” He fought to keep the tired edge out of his voice. His exhaustion had always been a weakness for her to attack him on.
“No. You know we never should have divorced. You know I still love you.”
He bit his tongue. Even if Helen wasn’t looking at him, she could easily hear every word, and the nurses gossiped worse than crows.
“Rebecca, I will call you this evening.”
“You had better,” was followed by a crisp snap and the welcome death of a silent line. He looked at the phone then set it down like it was a sleeping snake. “Helen, I’ll be in my office checking messages. Page me if anyone other than Rebecca calls.”
“Yes, Doctor,” came the crisp reply.
He turned his back on her and the motions of the nurse’s station. The white light of the hallways meant nothing to him these days as he cut his path through the working environment. The sound of the carts, the rasp of ventilators, the smell of cleaners and antiseptics. It was ingrained now. After more than ten years of school, internship, and finally his own office with a plaque on the door in the same hospital where he had done most of his training, it had ceased to have an effect on him. Any of it. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
He sank into his office chair with a tired frown, seeing the message light on his phone. He knew it had been too much to hope that she hadn’t called him there as well. When he checked, there were five messages total. Two, of course, were Rebecca. He erased those without even wanting to hear them in their entirety. He couldn’t blame her. He had been the failure, at least emotionally. He had never gotten beyond his original attraction to form something deeper. He had never been able to love her, not the way she had wanted or deserved.
Their divorce had been amicable at best. She hadn’t wanted it but realized he’d been miserable. She had relented, probably believing giving him an easy out would show him what she reall
y meant to him. She’d been wrong. Now, she’d become obsessive again. Just like when they’d been dating. Wanting what she couldn’t have, because he knew he didn’t want her. He’d made a mistake and had paid for it.
The other messages were from his brother, Mitchell. They had grown closer after his father’s death, and both brothers had become a stronger support for their mother when she’d needed them at her side. That time was gone but they were still tight as a three-person family, a healed family able to move on without his father.
He was reaching forward when the last message started, ready to dismiss it, but the voice, then the words, stopped him.
“Doctor Benedetti, my name is Selene Aiza. You don’t know me, but I live in Oregon and recently worked with a colleague of yours who gave you a very high recommendation for a position we are seeking to fill. I work in Bend, Oregon at the medical center and after an exhaustive search would like to discuss this position with you. If you are interested in the details please call me at…”
He leaned back. Oregon? Bend? He hit the replay and listened again. The voice was feminine, soft and clear. His eyes drifted shut as memories of Oregon came to him. The smells, the beauty, the trails. The wolf.
He blinked, startled as the image crystallized with vivid clarity in his mind. He hadn’t thought of the animal or the incident in years. Had it really happened? Or had it been a delusional case of hunger and heat?
He shook his head, clearing his mind. He was sure he had hallucinated it all. By the time he had made his way to where he had left his vehicle, he had been in the woods for four full days with hardly more than a canteen of water and his energy bars.
He lifted his pen back out and wrote down the number, replaying the message again to ensure he had it correct, then erased the message along with the others. He stared at the name and the phone number for several minutes. He knew the important questions could only be answered by calling. But what about his personal questions? What about his intentions, his own desires?
He rubbed his eyes to clear images and memories. The tension knot between his shoulders was still there, but it was lessening now that he’d had a few minutes of quiet time. When had that become necessary? When had the stress become such a normal part of his day that he could ignore it?
He loved what he did. The hospital he worked in and with was as much his home as the house he lived in, but in the last two years, something had become obvious. Just like his relationship with Rebecca, it wasn’t a good fit for him.
Frustration had become a normal part of his everyday life. Meetings and conferences were turning into long periods of grand standing, where only a small amount of time was used for actual discussion of medicine, and just the idea of Rebecca was enough to make his stomach sour. He never should have allowed himself to be convinced by her to settle, because there was no doubt now with time and distance, he had. In that, he was most certainly to blame.
One thing he could remember about that wayward trip with marked vividness was the peace he had found while walking through the wilderness in southwest Oregon. Even when he had been lost, the splendor, the untouched quality had filled him with a peace that he remembered in detail, but hadn’t found since.
Was he ready to make a change? If the opportunity was there, in Oregon, was he capable? There was only one way to find out.
Taking a chance, he lifted the plain phone on his desk and dialed the number. The other end answered on the second ring. “Bend Medical Center.”
“Yes. Is Selene Aiza available?”
“Let me check. Who may I say is calling?” He gave his name and waited patiently as he was put on hold. He tapped his fingers lightly to the music playing into his ear. He didn’t have long to wait.
“This is Doctor Aiza.” Her voice was clear and lovely, better than the recording. He introduced himself, saying, “I’m returning your call. You didn’t leave much on the message.”
He heard soft, flowing laughter in her voice. “I was hoping saying nothing would be more intriguing than saying everything.” He settled back into his chair as she continued. “The reason I called was because of a friend and mutual colleague, Doctor Ross Spinitti. He worked with you for several years if I remember correctly.”
He smiled as he remembered Ross. Tall and lanky and gregarious, but a good doctor. “Yes, I do remember him,” he said. “I worked with him during my internship and I want to say until just two years ago.”
She murmured an agreement. “I believe that is how he described it. He thought very highly of you, and I can assure you, the board thinks very highly of Doctor Spinitti, but that is only to break the ice. The position we have requires a person with certain skills, knowledge and capabilities that our hospital singularly is in need of. The board knows you are specialized in hematology and that is also being viewed as an asset for our location.” She hesitated briefly as if unsure of his reaction. “I know this is completely out of the blue for you, but you are the board’s first choice.”
“It is, at that,” he answered. “Being out of the blue, that is.” He looked around his office and felt the caged feeling that until that moment he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge. There had been no sign of escape, until now. He pushed himself into his chair, relaxing further as he crossed his feet at the ankles.
“Tell me something?” he asked, an odd feeling starting to curl through him. It almost felt like anticipation.
“Anything.”
“Is Oregon still as beautiful as it was six years ago?”
Her bright laughter was contagious and he smiled. “Gorgeous. I love it here. I couldn’t picture living anywhere else.”
“Why don’t you give me a better idea of what this position is, then Doctor Aiza, and I will let you know.”
“Well, a good point for the position is it isn’t hectic for starters, but we do service the entire Cascades area and serve as an overflow center, but that happens only rarely. We do our own lab work even for being a smaller community center and are well staffed and strong on equipment. The position is basically a co-directorship with minimal administration duties. We are searching for a specific kind of personality, a singular individual.” Her voice dropped a little, a serious undercurrent to show her sincerity. “I know you’ve been at home in St. Louis for your tenure, but the feeling is like nowhere else. And the pay is only a little lower than your current levels.”
“You know what I make?” he asked, surprised to hear it.
She sounded apologetically embarrassed. “I had to do all the research on you, Doctor Benedetti. Please don’t be offended.”
He smiled as he pictured her, a light blush rising on the imagined picture of her face from the confession. “How could I be? Your honesty is transparent.”
“Thank you,” she said. “So, could I interest you in a tour?”
He lifted a glance at his calendar, relaxing more as he shifted in his chair. He was off duty in two days. “Why don’t I fly out on Thursday? Is that time enough?”
“I think we can manage for that. I hope we can entice you to call Bend home.”
His laugh was light for the first time in years. “I’m willing to see.”
***
Bram’s phone rang Wednesday night as he finished packing for his morning flight. He lifted it with a shirt in his other hand. He was relaxed until he heard her voice.
“You forgot to call,” came the crisp reprimand.
“Rebecca.” He sighed, his gaze flowing upward, begging for divine intervention. He’d even take a lightning bolt at this point. “I’m sorry. I had emergencies for eight hours straight. I couldn’t just drop it all.” He laid the shirt on the bed as he sat.
“And what was wrong with now? You couldn’t think of me at all?”
He grimaced at her fishwife mentality. Had she always been this demanding, this self-centered? If she had, then he had obviously been too easy. He silenced his groan of self-disgust.
“I’m leaving in the morning. I’m packing and I hadn’t real
ly thought about it.”
“Packing?” came her shocked cry. “Where are you going?”
He refrained from throwing the clutched phone when his temper flared at her outburst. “Jesus, Rebecca! What do you want from me? I don’t have to tell you every single thing in my life!”
Her silence grew and spread like a wet cloud. “Bram, I’m sorry. I know we’re divorced. I do still love you.” Her meek words were a repetitive cover up that he had learned was a short lived respite.
“I can’t help that anymore.” His voice chilled, no longer interested in appeasing her. “I told you months ago there would be no reconciliation.”
“Bram, please,” she entreated in that helpless tone he had learned to hate. She was anything but helpless.
“No, Rebecca. Just move on. Leave me out of it. My life is of no concern to you anymore. If I ever really was,” he finished.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
He stood again, facing the nearest wall, the hand holding the cordless phone pinched white from anger, pain, and stress. “Never mind, Rebecca. Forget I said it.” He butted his head against the solid doorframe to his room once, twice. Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly he told her, “I have to go. I need to finish packing.”
“All right,” she offered, still playing the meek card. “Will you call me when you get back?”
He stood staring at the emptiness of his bedroom. There was nothing left for him in that room, as much as there was nothing left for him in St. Louis. His life was moving forward. It was time he actually did the same. His voice was final when he answered her.
“No.” And he hung up the phone.
He dropped the phone onto his bed with a furious flick of his hand, picking up the shirt he had abandoned for the phone call. He folded it with precise movements, laying it with the half dozen others already in place.
He shook his head in anger and self-incrimination as he replayed the phone call. Why had he married her? She was not the woman he was made for, no matter how much she wanted to be. He knew that. Hell, he thought sarcastically, he’d known it, and he’d still married her. So, if not her, who then? He honestly didn’t know.
A Trust Earned Page 2
