Solemn Oath

by Hannah Alexander

  Beverly looked up long enough to see who had come in. “Oh, good, Dr. Bower, you’re here,” she said, then returned to her work. “We have a fifty-year-old burn victim here, Mrs. Rose Dotson. She’s in a lot of pain, with at least ten percent of her body covered in second-degree burns. She was one of the cooks who was trapped in an enclosed space with the fire.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, but not as bad as she could have been. The other cook was hit when the ceiling collapsed. Dr. Garcias did a needle decompression on her just a couple of minutes ago. We’ve had basic blood work and an arterial blood gas done on Rose, and the results should be back any time.” Beverly glanced again at Lukas as he checked the monitor, then she looked down at his hiking boots. “You didn’t waste any time getting here. Going on a field trip?”

  “Not anymore. Get out the morphine. We’ll give it to her IV.” Through the clear blue oxygen mask, he could see soot around Mrs. Dotson’s mouth and nose, and she continued to cough between groans of pain. Lukas raised the mask long enough to check the patient’s throat. She had soot there, as well. He checked Beverly’s chart. Mrs. Dotson’s heart rate was fast, with her pressure a little high, but most of that came from pain. The respiratory rate was elevated into the 20s. The O2 saturation on a nonrebreather was 94. Initial saturation was 88, so he would leave the oxygen mask on her, but there was no sign of imminent airway compromise. Lukas located the intubation kit just in case he might need it.

  While Beverly went out to the computerized drug dispenser for the morphine, Lukas rechecked the patient’s vitals. He couldn’t help overhearing the buzz of conversation throughout the E.R. He heard Cherra Garcias talking in a calm, slightly accented voice in the next room. The needle decompression had been a success, and the patient was now conscious. Dr. Garcias was doing well, working with staff and patient, using just the right combination of authority and compassion. Now, if Lukas could hire a couple more docs just like her, he’d be happy.

  When Beverly walked back into the room with the morphine, Lukas stepped out past a jumble of people and equipment. “Judy,” he called to the secretary, “make arrangements to transfer Mrs. Dotson to a burn center.”

  Judy nodded and signaled to him, then picked up the phone. By the time Lukas grabbed a T-sheet for patient records and stepped back into the room, Mrs. Dotson’s groaning and coughing had already begun to subside. Morphine was wonderful stuff…unless you were driving.

  “Beverly, I want to start her on high-dose steroids IV.” He glanced at the monitor again, then began his own assessment, checking off preworded comments on the T-sheet.

  “Have you heard from Mrs. Pinkley this morning?” Beverly asked.

  He looked up. “No. Was she supposed to call me for something?”

  “Well, I am either going to be fired, or the COBRA investigation is going to be called off, or both.”

  Lukas waited.

  “That woman interviewed me this morning when I first got here.” Beverly leaned forward to check Mrs. Dotson’s IVs. The groaning had stopped, and the woman’s eyes were half-closed.

  Beverly stepped a couple of feet from the bed and lowered her voice. “You might say Ms. Fellows and I didn’t hit it off. The woman’s a witch. She even looks like one, with that pasty complexion and eyes like a shark. And did you see her fingernails?”

  “No, I don’t think I—”

  “She demanded to know why I was just now turning in an AMA form about Dwayne Little. I tried to explain that I was afraid the president of the hospital board would fire me if I did, and that I had a family to support. She asked me if you or Mrs. Pinkley were trying to coerce me in any way. Then she accused me of trying to impede her investigation! Of all the vicious, unprofessional…I tried to keep my cool, but I asked her when this suddenly became ‘her’ investigation instead of a COBRA investigation. She told me I was out of line, and I told her I’d read the book on COBRA rules and that I wasn’t even close to any line as far as I could see. I told her she needed to take a refresher course.”

  Lukas controlled his facial muscles with effort. Yep, this was the old Beverly, all right. He’d missed working with her.

  “So Ms. Fellows implied that I could lose my job over this,” Beverly continued with a shrug. “I suggested to her that Bailey Little was either blackmailing her or having an affair with her, and she turned pale and left. But then, she’s always pale, because she’s a witch. Did you get a load of that hooked nose?”

  “I didn’t notice.”

  Beverly shook her head. “If I lose my job, I lose my job. I wish I’d had the guts to do this months ago, and we wouldn’t have this problem.” She adjusted the IV and checked the blood pressure again. “It’s coming down. Looking good, Dr. Bower. Mrs. Dotson doesn’t look like she’s feeling much pain.” She poured some more saline onto the sterile cloths. “I got some Silvadene cream out. Want me to use it?”

  “No, we’ll leave that up to the burn center. They don’t like anything sticky on the skin. Give her a gram of Kefzol. We need to get her started on an antibiotic.”

  Judy stepped into the open doorway. “Dr. Bower, the ambulance crew is getting ready to transfer Mrs. Dotson. They were still here from the run from Little Mary’s, so they’ll just take her now. The St. John’s burn unit is waiting for her.” She looked around behind her, then stepped into the room and lowered her voice. “One of the patients is refusing to see Dr. Garcias. He saw you come through, and he wants you to treat him before you leave.”

  “Why is he refusing to see Dr. Garcias?” Lukas asked.

  Judy lowered her voice further. “He said he wants to see a ‘male American’ doctor.”

  “Tell him Dr. Garcias is the only American doctor on duty today. I’m not officially on duty. I’m just helping out with the emergency.” Lukas stepped to the sink to wash his hands. He would take care of the fireman in Three, then escape this place before any of the department directors discovered he was here. If he waited around he could get sucked into hospital politics for the rest of the day. Somebody always had a gripe or a bright idea that just happened to involve the E.R. in some way.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Beverly, who had just walked back into the room with the steroids and antibiotic he had requested for Mrs. Dotson. “Beverly, how’s Cowboy doing these days? Is he giving that gunshot wound time to heal?”

  “His arm is healing well. His heart’s a different matter.” She placed the needle of the syringe into the injection port of the IV. “He’s still upset about Leonardo. For the past few days he’s been talking about getting another lion cub, and I told him when we get married he’ll have enough wild animals to handle without adding more. My kids are a little on the spunky side. Good news, though. Berring is up to his old tricks, apparently. He jumped bail, and they found him over in Barry County, robbing a convenience store. They caught him and he’s behind bars. From what I hear, he’s practically in a straitjacket. The guy’s nuts. Crazy. I just hope they keep him locked up tight this time.”

  At ten o’clock Friday morning, Mercy’s secretary-receptionist stepped into the office with the day’s mail. “Got something besides bills today, Dr. Mercy.” She placed the stack squarely in front of Mercy and pointed to the top envelope, which had been slit open. Loretta always opened all the mail. “I stuck it back in the envelope. Just let me get out of here and close the door before you look at it.” She made an exaggerated dash for the hallway and pulled the door shut.

  Mercy rolled her eyes and shook her head. Like Josie, Loretta had been a fixture in this office for five years. Both were loyal, trusted friends.

  The envelope had no return address, but Theodore’s precise cursive grabbed Mercy’s attention. She eased the envelope open cautiously, as if a spider might be lurking inside. She pulled out a sheet of triple-folded notebook paper, and when she unfolded it, another piece of paper fell out onto the desk. It was a cashier’s check for fifty dollars.

  She stared at it for a moment, then looked at the n
ote he had written on the paper.

  Mercy,

  Please don’t burn this. I know you don’t want my money, but this isn’t my money. It’s yours and Tedi’s. If you don’t want to use it, just put it into a fund for Tedi’s education. I’m going to try to do this every two weeks. That’s how often you paid child support for all those years. When I make more money, I’ll send more.

  Theodore

  Mercy’s fingers tightened on the paper. Okay, she was touched. Part of her wondered if this was genuine. Another part of her wanted to mail it back to him. She didn’t want this kind of a connection with him, even if he never drank another drop of liquor. But this effort wasn’t something the old Theodore would do. Had he truly had a change of heart?

  And if she were convinced that he had, would she be able to forgive him? Logically, it was something she knew she needed to do, whether or not he had changed. Emotionally, she still felt within her a solid barrier of powerfully woven links of pain, anger, fear. What would it take to dislodge this hardened mass?

  She wanted to try to do the right thing for Tedi’s sake.

  Still, she wasn’t about to go to the trouble of opening a separate account with this little check, because it would probably be the last one she’d see from Theo.

  She would hold the check and see what happened next.

  Lukas treated the fireman for smoke inhalation and a slight concussion and released him to his family’s care. Time to escape. Maybe a hike would still be possible.

  He stepped out of the exam room to find Estelle Pinkley, waiting to pounce, every silver hair on her head in place, every movement genteel.

  “How bad were the injuries this time?” she asked, turning to glance at the firefighters outside the front entrance, then at the ambulance attendants at the central desk.

  Lukas pulled off his gloves and mask. “Not as bad as expected. We flew one cook and transported another by ambulance, both to the burn unit at St. John’s. The fireman wants to go home. His family will watch him.”

  She nodded soberly, then gestured for Lukas to follow her down the hallway, away from the lingering crowd. She lowered her voice. “Do you see an increase in the severity of each successive fire?”

  “Not really. The first one caused a dangerous explosion that could have killed two people.”

  “The first one wasn’t arson. The barbecue grill ignited a box that was too close, and the investigator found a faulty valve on the grill. That fire might have been a trigger for the arsonist, though. We could be in for more major injuries, worse than this. Do we have all the supplies we might need in E.R. for a disaster?”

  “We’re completely stocked.”

  “Good. I want to hire more staff, perhaps a float nurse, another tech, as quickly as possible. I’ve already asked Personnel to contact part-timers and see if they’re interested in full-time for a while. We need to be prepared.” She paused and shook her head. “It’s hard to catch an arsonist. To do so, one must think like him, and then get him to confess.” She straightened the hem of her suit jacket and then her already perfect posture. “I have a good conviction rate.”

  “Who’re you going to convict?” They walked past a wall mural of a forest trail, and Lukas wished he were there now.

  “No one I’m ready to make public.” Estelle moved closer to him and lowered her voice. “I don’t like the direction the evidence is pointing, and I’m not sure I trust it. That’s all I can say at this point. I know whom I would like to be able to accuse, but it’s safe to say that Bailey Little is only out to destroy the hospital, not the rest of the town.”

  Lukas gave her a sympathetic nod, and she continued.

  “Speaking of Bailey, I just found out that Beverly’s AMA report didn’t call off the investigation.”

  Lukas stopped walking and stared at Estelle. Disappointment overwhelmed him for a moment. “How is that possible? I was under the impression that was all we needed. I thought if we had a witness that I had offered the proper medication, and that I offered drug-abuse rehab, they would drop the investigation.”

  “I asked Ms. Fellows the same question.” Estelle pressed her lips together for a moment of thought. “She believes Beverly was coerced.”

  “That woman is malicious, vindictive—”

  “And digging herself deeper into trouble every day she stays here.” Estelle smiled at Lukas and patted his arm. “I’m not just sitting on my hands up in that office, Lukas. Trust me.”

  “I hate him. I hate him.” Abby Cuendet sat down next to Tedi in class, hands gripping the sides of her desk, glasses fogged over from tears that flowed from her eyes. Nobody else in the class noticed, because all the students were doing one of the work projects where they were allowed to talk to one another.

  “Who do you hate?” Tedi asked. Abby had just arrived three hours late, with no note for Mr. Walters or the principal. No excuse. Mr. Walters was looking in Abby’s direction, but he just shook his head sadly and stayed at his desk.

  Abby didn’t act as if she’d even heard Tedi’s question. She stopped saying the words out loud, but her mouth continued to move. She closed her eyes, and more tears spilled out.

  “Abby?” Tedi leaned across the aisle and touched her friend’s skinny arm. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Abby checked to see if anybody was looking at her, then she took her glasses off and wiped her eyes and nose with the cuff of her long-sleeved T-shirt. She wiped off her glasses, then sniffed and put them back on.

  Tedi sighed and returned to her work.

  Five minutes later, Abby said, “He blames Mom for losing me Monday.”

  Tedi looked back over at her. “Who does?”

  “Dad. I heard them fighting this morning, and Mom followed Dad outside so April and Andy wouldn’t hear them. I had to stay and keep an eye on them. Next thing I knew, Dad was peeling out of the driveway toward work, and Mom was running back into the house crying. Then she had to get ready for work, and she was afraid she’d get fired, because this is the third day she’s been late in two weeks.”

  “Your dad blamed your mom when you didn’t call Monday?” Tedi stressed the words and got a dirty look from Abby. “Your mom called all over trying to find you that day, Abby. How was she supposed to know where you were? Grandma had three messages on her recorder when we got back. Mom had two.”

  “I know. My mother finally called your mother’s office, and they told her I was okay. But before that Mom called Dad at work when she couldn’t find me.”

  “It doesn’t sound to me like you’re bringing your parents closer. It sounds to me like they’re fighting because of you.”

  Abby shot Tedi a narrow-eyed look and didn’t say another word.

  Lukas walked back into the house at one o’clock in the afternoon. He’d been at the hospital for four hours. It seemed as if every department director in the hospital had discovered he was there and wanted to talk to him before he got away. He hadn’t gotten away; there would be no hike today. He pulled off his boots and unloaded his backpack.

  The telephone rang.

  He groaned. That couldn’t be the hospital again. Let the telephone ring. It was probably a telemarketer, and when the recorder kicked in, they wouldn’t leave a message and he would be off the hook.

  But after the recorder finished its spiel, he heard Mercy’s voice on the other end of the line. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

  Lukas dropped his boots and backpack, raced to the phone and picked up before she could say another word. “How about Wheaties? I’ve got a package of Rice Krispies Treats somewhere for dessert.”

  There was a pause, and for a moment he wondered if he’d cut her off. “Mercy?”

  “Should I dress up?”

  “It’ll be pretty casual.”

  Another pause, then, “So I’m still invited?”

  Oh yes, she was invited. “Of course.”

  “And you’re not mad at me?”

  Lukas couldn’t stop the smile, and the sens
e of relief, and the sudden reaction of warmth he felt at the plaintive tone of her voice. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I’m mad at myself. I’ve been that way a lot lately. I’ve got to go. Patients are coming in.”

  “Does eight o’clock work for you?”

  “Sure. Then maybe I’ll have everybody cleared out of here in time. See you, Lukas.”

  He hung up, looked at the clock, panicked. He had to go to the store. He had to take a shower and do some laundry because he was out of clothes. And he had to find a cookbook somewhere in this town and learn how to cook in one afternoon. He was going to see Mercy tonight. He could think no further than that.

  The theme song of Mission Impossible pounded through his head, and he jumped up from the sofa and ran into the kitchen. It seemed like the best place to begin.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Friday night Lukas decided to barbecue hamburgers on his outdoor gas grill. He’d never done it before, but he’d watched his brothers do it a couple of times, and it didn’t look too hard. Besides, how complicated could it be to throw a couple of handfuls of ground beef over a fire and let them brown? He had more important things to think about. He had some more arguing to do with God.

  For instance, why did he have to completely break it off with Mercy? Why couldn’t they just take a backward step in their relationship? They’d been friends for six months without any dire consequences, and Mercy was more open to the subject of spiritual things now than she had ever been before. She had changed. Even Ivy had noticed, and she gave Lukas partial credit. Wouldn’t it even hurt Mercy’s growth toward God if Lukas broke off their friendship now? Wouldn’t she feel ostracized? Abandoned?

  Smoke from the dripping grease in the grill made his mouth water, until it thickened and blackened and aimed for his eyes. He coughed and tried to move out of the way, but a slight breeze picked up and seemed to swirl the smoke directly at him no matter which way he moved. He finally ducked and let the smoke rise over his head.