“But it was my fault,” she said.
He shook his head.
“It was either my fault or it was an accident. And if it was an accident, then . . .” And there it was, the sentence she could not finish. For she would rather hate herself for a million years, would rather make it all her fault, than blame God. Better to hate herself endlessly than to hate . . .
After a few minutes of silence Elijah spoke again. “He’s big enough for whatever you’re feeling,” he said quietly. “You don’t need to be afraid.”
She stared, eyes wide, for it was almost as if he knew her thoughts.
“Despair and hopelessness are never from God. Whatever happened, this prison you’re all in is not His will. But I believe He’s working already. Just look around you,” he pointed out. “Maybe things aren’t fixed yet, but all the players are back on the stage, aren’t they?”
Well, he had a point there. Mary sniffed and considered it. She had never imagined she would see Sam and Annie in the same room again. She remembered Annie’s little tease and Sam’s smile. She nodded and mopped at her eyes and face. And suddenly she felt hope, like a tiny fire, strike up inside her. “What you must think of me,” she said, shaking her head, but when she met his eyes, he was looking at her strangely.
“I think only good things of you,” he said, and she felt embarrassed and lowered her eyes again.
Twenty-three
Sam arrived back at the hospital just in time to speak to Carl’s surgeon before the bypass. Then he and Annie sat across from each other and stared at the floor, gazed glazed-eyed at the monotonous television mounted in the corner of the surgery waiting area, looked at stale magazines, exchanged benign conversation with Diane.
When the surgeon came out, Sam realized how it felt to be on the other side of one of those familiar conversations, and he was struck with how needy he felt, how vulnerable.
“The surgery went well,” the doctor said, and Sam listened, only this time it was his own eyes that watched hopefully, and other well-known, once-loved faces that received the news. Carl had received five grafts. Things should be fine. He was conscious now but sedated. He could have visitors for a few seconds every hour according to the rules of the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit.
“I’ll leave now,” Sam said after the surgeon had finished and taken his leave. “It sounds like y’all are in good hands.”
Annie turned her eyes to him, and he sensed reproach, which both puzzled and exasperated him. What had he done wrong? Did she want him to stay? To have left sooner? Diane spared him further deliberation.
“Sam, could I please speak to you for a minute before you go?”
“Of course,” he said.
“I’ll go check on Papa if what you have to say is private,” Annie offered.
“No need,” Diane said in that curt way he noticed she often took with Annie. “Stay. You need to hear this, too.”
“All right.”
“Come sit down again,” Diane suggested.
Sam sat back down in the chair he had just vacated. Diane looked tired. Her kind brown eyes were drooping at the corners. He sat and waited to hear what she would say, and somehow it reminded him of that conversation he had had with the old woman in the restaurant. “Young man, I want to speak to you,” she had said. Had that just been weeks ago? He remembered what she had prayed—that an unseen hand would pull him and Annie back together. His eyes opened wider, and he felt a sense of amazement as he realized that the very thing she’d prayed for had happened. He doubted this was exactly how she had meant her prayer to be answered, though. He glanced aside at Annie. She was focused on Diane.
“Sam,” Diane said, “I don’t know how to ask you this, so I’ll just come out with it.”
He tensed, wondering what sore area she would probe.
“I need your help.”
Not what he’d expected, and to his surprise, he felt a thrust of eagerness at her words.
“Anything,” he answered quickly. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Take over Carl’s practice,” she blurted out.
He sat up straighter in the chair. Definitely not what he had expected. He glanced at Annie, but she did not look as surprised as he felt.
“Diane, I don’t know about that—”
“Now don’t tell me you can’t do it, because I know you can. I asked Ricky, and he said physicians are licensed to practice medicine, not any particular specialty. He said you were licensed in Tennessee and in North Carolina and that you trained in every area before you chose your field. He said that you should do just fine as a family physician.”
Sam shook his head. He felt a smile on his face, even though his amusement was mixed with irritation. At his brother. How like Ricky to insert himself into Sam’s affairs, get him roped into something he was in no way prepared to undertake himself. He saw Annie was smiling, too. Amusedly, for she had always been a good deal more entertained by his brother’s antics than he had.
“Diane, what you’re asking is complicated. Besides the issue of my competence to practice general medicine, there are practical issues—malpractice insurance, for instance,” he said, grabbing the first issue that came to his head. “Getting admitting privileges at the hospitals around here.”
“I know it’s complicated. I’m asking you to do it anyway. To take care of those details and help me, because I need you to.”
Well, that took away his objections. What was left to say after that?
“Listen, Sam, I’ll be honest with you. Our farm is mortgaged to the hilt, and our savings consist of about two house payments. Carl has a lot of lovable qualities, but thrift isn’t one of them.”
He glanced again at Annie, but she didn’t seem to have taken umbrage at Diane’s blunt assessment. For his part, he thought it had been an understatement. He nodded thoughtfully.
“The drought has about eaten up all our surplus,” Diane continued. “I’ve had to buy feed for two years and probably will have to sell off my stock this year if the drought keeps up. If Carl needs to retire, we need to be able to sell his practice, not just let it die.”
More silence. Sam finally spoke. “What about you, Annie?” Sam turned toward her. “How do you feel about this plan?”
“It would be all right with me,” she said, her eyes and voice soft. “I mean, I’d appreciate it, too. Whatever would help Papa and Diane.”
“Please, Sam.” Diane spoke again.
He nodded. He would not make her beg. “All right,” he said. “I’ll see if I can hold things together until Carl gets back on his feet.”
Diane’s eyes filled with tears, and she took his hand. He held hers for a long moment, looked into her eyes, and he remembered, vaguely, from many years before, feeling the same kind of link and connection with others as a part of everyday life. He smiled at her, a real smile that began down in his heart. “Don’t worry,” he said, and he watched some of the anxiety drain from her eyes. “Everything is going to be all right.”
She threw her arms around him, and he hugged her. As he turned to leave, he saw Annie watching, staring at him solemnly, her eyes thoughtful.
****
The call came to him late that night. His cell phone rang, and he sat up quickly, swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had it to his ear and the light on before he remembered he was no longer on call. This would be no emergency requiring his intervention.
“The governor signed the law this evening, and they put the tube back in,” Melvin said without preamble. “Kelly’s receiving nourishment even as we speak. Her vital signs are stable.”
Sam took a deep breath, thanked him, hung up the phone. He sat there for a moment, then pulled his clothes on and went out into the cool night. He walked out onto the lawn and gazed upward at the sky. The deepest part of the night was past. The stars were fading into that dim grayness that meant sunrise was not far behind.
He felt, somehow, that he had been given a reprieve, an unexpected and uncalled-for mo
ment of grace. The pain that was background to his life eased, and he had a moment of hope, glimpsed in the distance much like the light that pinked the eastern sky.
Twenty-four
Diane rented a motel a few blocks from the hospital and would stay there for the duration. Annie had driven home after Papa’s surgery. The place was in order, thanks to Elijah, Mary, and Sam, who had left a brief note on the door. Fed and watered the stock. Be back in the morning.
She hadn’t wanted to think about the morning. She’d fallen into bed and slept hard, a deep sleep, and if she dreamed, she didn’t remember. She woke around sunrise and pulled on her overalls and a long-sleeved shirt, for the mornings were cool in the mountains. She put on socks, brushed her teeth, braided her hair, and went downstairs. She opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. The sky was a gray silk, and as she watched, the sun rose, searing it to shades of violet, mauve, and pink, and something in her felt eased and satisfied.
She went inside, leaving the door open behind her to allow the breeze in. There was a note on the counter. Fresh milk in the refrigerator. Please come for supper tonight. Love, Mary. Annie felt a burst of love for her mother-in-law, and for just a moment things came into focus. She glimpsed things the way they had been and should be again, but it was only a brief flashing moment of clarity, as the lens was twisted, barely apprehended before the picture disappeared again into a blur. The reality of their relationship now seemed clearly the distortion, though. Absurd, illogical, and wrong that she had allowed this estrangement to remain.
She went to the sink and filled the percolator with water and coffee, smiling at Papa’s curious ways. She rummaged through the cupboards and found a container of oatmeal and put some on to cook. She made plenty, for Elijah would no doubt make his appearance as soon as the rooster began crowing. Sam would probably come, as well, she realized, if he was to see Papa’s patients today.
Annie felt a rumble of something at that but didn’t pause to identify it. It was only natural that she would feel uneasy around him, though that word didn’t exactly describe it, and unaccountably she remembered the expression on his face yesterday as he’d reassured Diane. It had reminded her of the way he had been before, the way she had thought he could never be again, and the realization that she had just been proved wrong brushed at her mind persistently. She listened to the coffee gurgle and just as persistently swept the thoughts away.
She made a pan of biscuits and opened a jar of Diane’s home-canned peaches, skimmed the cream off the milk and set it on the table along with the brown sugar and some jelly and honey. Breakfast was ready when Elijah and Sam arrived. She stepped out onto the porch to greet them.
****
Annie had on her overalls today, and Sam couldn’t help but smile. He remembered her wearing those silly things and a straw hat.
“Where’s your bonnet?” he asked playfully, and she smiled, remembering the same things he did, he supposed.
“I guess I need a new one,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to that old thing. The dog ate it, I expect.” She nudged Carl’s border collie with her foot, and he rewarded her with a canine smile and a furious wave of his plumed tail. “Y’all come on in and eat,” she said. “I’ve got breakfast ready.”
He ate, for Mama had still been asleep when he had crept out this morning. He had tapped on Elijah’s door, as they had arranged, and the two of them had left. He was happy that Mama had taken her rest, for she had trouble sleeping most nights. He had a bowl of oatmeal and two of Annie’s biscuits and could have eaten several more. She hadn’t lost her touch. They were flaky and hot, browned to perfection. He savored each bite, dripping with butter and jam, and washed them down with a cup of her hot, strong coffee.
“That was delicious,” he said. “Thank you.” And it might have been only his imagination, but he thought her face lit briefly with pleasure at his words.
Elijah volunteered to do the chores with Annie so that Sam could see to the office. He unlocked it with the key Annie gave him and checked the appointment book. Carl had hospital rounds and four home visits scheduled this morning, and this afternoon was free clinic, and who knew who would drop in? He wished he knew what to expect.
He checked his watch. He would go to the hospital first and apply for admitting privileges. He had no idea how long that process would take or what he would do about Carl’s hospitalized patients in the meantime. He looked at the list of home visits that were scheduled this morning. He knew where three of the addresses were located. He would buy a county map and find the fourth. He would need Carl’s bag, and after a flurry of unsuccessful searching, he finally called Diane.
“It’s in the locked cabinet,” she said. “Unfortunately, the key is here.”
“That’s all right,” he told her. “I’m sure there’s an extra stethoscope around the office, and I can just prescribe whatever medications they need. How is Carl?” he asked.
“Oh, I can’t tell you how much better he is. He’s awake and drinking clear fluids. They’re talking about moving him out of CCU tomorrow.”
“I’m so glad, Diane.”
“Sam, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’re doing.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “I’m happy to help.”
And actually, he realized upon hanging up the telephone, it was true. He turned that moment of grace he had received around again and again in his mind, admired it but did not examine it too closely. He had the feeling of movement now, that things blocked were finally coming dislodged, and although he did not know what would happen, he felt better. Able to breathe and move again.
He took the appointment book, said good-bye to Elijah and Annie, and then started out on his rounds.
“I’ll go see Papa and bring the key back for you,” she promised. “I’ll bring it to supper.” She blushed furiously. “Your mother invited me.”
“Good,” he said mildly. “I’ll see you then.”
****
It was odd being in a hospital again. Sam walked through the hallways carefully, warily, as if his presence might be challenged. It was not. He paused in front of the surgery suite and smelled the scent. It had its own smell, the operating room. A mixture of disinfectant and sterilized rubber. He felt his adrenaline start to surge, and he turned and went the other way, toward the administrative offices.
He found the place he was looking for, stepped inside, looked around, and smiled. What a nice cozy world. The secretary’s desk was centered before the door, and an older, more buxom, version of Izzy was juggling two phone lines and writing something at the same time. He thought perhaps he recognized her, but he could not be sure. Most likely she was the mother of a friend of his. Gilead Springs was a small town, and everyone’s paths crisscrossed like turtle tracks.
“May I help you?” she asked with a smile.
“I’m Sam Truelove,” he said. “I’d like to see the administrator if I may,” Sam asked, nodding toward the door marked B. Dandridge. His brother had introduced them at a church function, but he didn’t know him well. He felt tense and he wondered again who knew what about him. Who was thinking what.
“Just go right on in,” she said with a smile. “I know he’ll be happy to see you, Dr. Truelove.”
So he was known here. Probably everywhere. “Thank you,” he said and went toward the office, stopping to tap on the door.
“Sam! It’s good to see you again.” Bruce Dandridge rose from his desk and motioned Sam in. “Ricky said you might be coming by.”
Ah. Mystery solved. “Did he?”
“Called me yesterday morning. Matter of fact, Trudy has all the paper work ready for your signature.”
“Well, how thoughtful.” Yesterday morning. Before he and Diane had even discussed the matter. He had the sense that he was falling into a well-constructed web, but he actually didn’t mind. “I hope you have a list of Carl’s patients in the hospital, as well. I’m afraid all of that was in Carl’s head, and we haven’t
had a chance to talk yet.”
“Trudy can probably pull that up on the computer.”
“I’ll get it ready,” she called cheerily from the other room, and Sam grinned.
Bruce Dandridge rose up and gently but firmly closed the door. He turned back to Sam and sat down in the chair beside him. “I just want to say how sorry I am for your trouble.” He met Sam’s gaze with a frank, sincere look. “We’re glad to have you here. We’re honored at the chance to work with you.”
And there was another unexpected mercy. “Thank you,” Sam said simply, but he felt a rush of gratitude, and something in his chest swelled and tightened.
He signed the papers that allowed him to admit patients to Gilead Springs Memorial Hospital.
“I could call Asheville if you like and have you worked up to admit there, too,” Trudy offered. “I’m friends with the clerk. She could get the papers done, and you could courier them back and forth.”
An excellent idea. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d appreciate that.”
Trudy nodded and beamed. She handed him a patient list. Carl had three patients in the hospital. Sam discharged one to a rehabilitation center to continue recovery from her stroke. The other, a twelve-year-old boy with a broken femur, would be seen by the orthopedist later today but would probably be sent home, as well. He checked on the third. She was an old woman, eighty-five, to be exact, suffering from congestive heart failure. The medication Carl had her on was not the most effective. Sam ordered a new drug and left after a few moments of chat.
When he had finished, he stopped by Ricky’s office. His sister was there, as well. She was a caseworker for the North Carolina Department of Children and Family Services and often borrowed Ricky’s spare office to make her case notes and phone calls. She was based out of Asheville, but that was a long drive every time she wanted to use a copy machine or a computer.
“Hey brother,” she said, and rose up to hug him. He gave her a clumsy squeeze and felt her fluffy hair brush his cheek and nose. Her hair had always been bigger than she was, a fuzzy, dark corona around her face, her eyes dancing or snapping according to the internal weather, her mouth always in motion.
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