Sacred Trust

by Hannah Alexander

  “Liar. Mind if I come in for a minute?” She stepped in without waiting for an invitation, as she had done for years. For the first time Jarvis felt a rush of irritation with Ivy, which he quickly covered. Everything irritated him lately.

  She stepped over to the love seat that faced the long leather sofa. “You’re going to be mad at me in a few minutes, so I’ll say what I have to say and get it over with.”

  He sat down on the sofa. “How could I possibly be mad at you?”

  “Because you’ll try to talk me out of going to Colorado, just like everyone else has done, and I’m going.”

  “Then I won’t even try. What did Dr. Walker say about your ticker?”

  “It isn’t angina. I don’t have any artery blockage. It’s a bundle branch block, just like Dr. Simeon told Mercy. I could’ve saved the insurance company a bunch of money.”

  “What did he say about your backpacking expedition?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “He said you should go?”

  “Nope.”

  Jarvis turned his head and stretched his neck. He wasn’t up to these word games. He was tired. Why couldn’t she just say what she’d come to say?

  “Jarvis? You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Ivy, you didn’t tell him about your trip, did you?”

  “No need. He said we can manage this with medicine, and I should be able to resume my regular exercise in a few days. Hiking is one of my regular exercises.”

  “Not in high altitudes.”

  “We’re not going to be climbing that high.”

  “You’ll be in Colorado. It’s all high altitude.”

  “I’ll get used to it.”

  Jarvis shrugged, and the motion made him feel slightly nauseated. Could be the flu, but he’d felt this way a couple of times before and nothing had come of it.

  “Jarvis? You don’t look too great.”

  “I’m fine. If you want to go on the trip, it’s up to you.” He remembered the letter on his desk. “I have some information for you to think about while you’re gone. Remember my friend June? She was going to get us something on Bower.”

  “The nurse from Cunningham?”

  “That’s her. Great gal. She says administration there suspected Bower not only of endangering patient lives, but the reason they felt he was dangerous was because he was showing signs of bipolar disorder. Scary stuff if not treated, especially for a doc, so they had a meeting with him and he told them he was grieving over a death in the family. They instructed him to be seen by a psychiatrist. He made an appointment, then didn’t show up. When his trainer asked why, Bower gave the excuse that no one would cover him for the appointment.”

  “You mean he didn’t get treatment?”

  “Apparently not. About the same time Bower was accused of fathering the child of a certain nurse on staff, whose father just happened to be the head of the internal medicine department. Really stupid of Bower. He denied everything, of course.”

  “He’s manic depressive?”

  “That was the accusation.”

  “But did they prove it? Jarvis, these are serious charges. Did they prove these things about Dr. Bower?”

  “Would they accuse him of all this stuff if it didn’t have some basis in fact?” His head pounded, probably caused by guilt. “Would they have fired him if they couldn’t prove it? They could get sued.”

  “You’re forgetting this is Missouri, a right-to-fire state. If they didn’t directly list these things as a reason for his termination, he couldn’t sue. Remember what Sal told you when we called him. He said Dr. Bower was not really popular with his colleagues because he was not a politician. Maybe he made some powerful enemies.”

  Jarvis glared at Ivy. “Why are you defending him all of a sudden? You’re the one who asked me to investigate him, remember?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “He comes in late, he is uncooperative and he’s already endangered a life in our E.R.”

  “How?”

  “He chased off a pain patient, accusing him of drug abuse. The patient didn’t get any help here. Do you know who that patient is? Just the son of one of our hospital board members, that’s all.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “Now, Ivy, you know I can’t—”

  “Just tell me, Jarvis. You know I’ll find out soon enough. Who?”

  “Dwayne Little was the patient.”

  Ivy gasped. “Bailey’s son?”

  “That’s right. Bailey will have our hides over this, thanks to Bower.”

  “How do you know Dwayne isn’t into drugs? He’s been arrested for drunk driving before. Alcohol’s a drug, isn’t it?”

  Jarvis stiffened. “Alcohol is not illegal. Don’t go dragging your husband’s personal problems into this.”

  Ivy jerked up and stared at Jarvis as if he’d slapped her. “How can you say that?”

  Jarvis shrugged. That was a wrong move, but he didn’t care. Why didn’t she just leave?

  “My husband was your best friend, Jarvis George. He made you an equal partner in his practice. How could you say that?”

  Jarvis avoided her eyes. “Bailey Little and I have hunted together for twenty years. He didn’t raise his son to do drugs.”

  “How do you know? Dwayne didn’t live with his father. He lived with his mother. I didn’t raise Mercy to marry a no-good jerk like Theodore Zimmerman, but that didn’t stop her.”

  Jarvis glared at Ivy. “Life isn’t always about you and your family, Ivy.” The force of his anger lifted him to his feet. “I’m talking about the future of this hospital with Bower on board. If you want to crack jokes about something this serious, you can do it somewhere else.”

  For a moment Ivy didn’t react, but stood staring at him as if she were stunned. “Jarvis, what are you talking about? I’m not joking.”

  He stumbled and grabbed the back of the sofa. “You said yourself that Lukas Bower is a dangerous man. He obviously has no moral integrity. I…I d-don’t need your help to see justice done, but I did think I could count on you, of all people.”

  Ivy’s eyes narrowed. “Jarvis, what’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. What’s wrong with you? You can’t even see the truth when it slaps you in the face. When it kills your own mother.” He heard her swift intake of breath and was immediately sorry.

  “Cancer killed my mother,” she said quietly. She stood up and took a step toward him. “You’re sick.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm.

  He jerked away. “I’m the doctor, remember? I’m f-fine. You’re the one who’s sick and won’t listen to your cardiologist. Go ahead and…t-take your stupid hike, but don’t come crying to me if you wind up in some hospital in Colorado.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  At five forty-five Mercy leaned back in her desk chair and stared at the pile of charts stacked in her in-tray. She’d barely had time for half a sandwich on the way back from her house call, and she was starving. The least Lukas Bower could have done was offer her dinner—not that she’d have accepted, but he could have.

  Her office door opened, and Josie stuck her head in. “It’s him again, Dr. Mercy.”

  “Him who?”

  “Dr. Bower. I told him you were buried beneath a pile of work, but he’s holding on line three. He wants to know about the results of some tests.”

  “Fine, I’ll take it.” At the pleased smile on Josie’s face, she scowled. “Out.” She pointed at the door, punched the button and picked up the receiver. “Yes, Dr. Bower.”

  “Good, you’re still there.”

  “Of course I’m still here. I’ll be here until midnight at this rate.”

  “Business booming?”

  “Not if I keep doing house calls. Some of my patients waited two hours this afternoon.”

  “Sorry.”

  She relented. “I’m glad I went, especially after I saw the results of the tests.” She picked up the sheets she had received from the lab this afternoon. She read
him the report, which confirmed that Clarence was dangerously diabetic and probably had chronic heart failure.

  “We need to get to work on this guy right away,” Mercy said. “I still don’t think he’ll accept my help.” She looked up as Josie walked back in with another chart.

  “I’ll accept your help,” Lukas said. “He obviously needs another house call.”

  “Thursday’s my day off. Want to set a time?” A clipboard clattered to the desk. Mercy looked up to find Josie staring at her, eyes wide in eager anticipation.

  Mercy pointed to the door. “Out, I said! And if you come in here again, you’ll be fired for the second time today.”

  “Uh, excuse me?” Lukas asked tentatively.

  “Nothing. What time Thursday?”

  “How about noon. I owe you lunch for today, and maybe I’ll get some sleep between patients tonight.”

  “How about one o’clock, so you can sleep at least one extra hour after morning shift takes over? And I think you owe me more than that—at least a dinner. I’m starving.” Mercy bit her tongue. What was she saying? Had she suddenly lost her mind? Good thing she’d chased Josie out of the room.

  “Okay, I’ll see that you get fed. Unfortunately, I can’t share it with you because I have to be back to work at seven, and I just got up.”

  “That’s a tight schedule. Did you get any sleep this afternoon?”

  “About four hours. At least it’s only a twelve-hour shift tonight.”

  “Still too much. See you Thursday.” Mercy hung up, glanced toward the door, and noted that it was ajar. “Josie, you’d better not be out there!”

  She heard feet scurrying away, but before she could pursue it, her intercom buzzed. “Dr. Mercy, line one is for you,” came her secretary’s voice. “It’s your daughter.”

  Mercy glanced at her clock as she pressed the intercom button. “Loretta, what are you still doing here? It’s after quitting time. Go home. You can finish your work tomorrow.” She pressed the phone button. “Tedi? Hi, sweetie. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Mom. Can you meet with my teacher at school Thursday? That’s the day after tomorrow. Your day off.”

  “Of course I will…. Tedi, did you stay at home alone last night?”

  There was silence.

  It was all the answer Mercy needed. Theo would put up a big fight if she fought him for custody, but she was going to take him on this time. “Honey, try to get some sleep. I’ll call your teacher and make an appointment for Thursday.”

  “Okay. Mom? What if she won’t talk to you because you’re not my legal guardian?”

  “I will explain to her that guardianship is in the process of changing.”

  Tedi gasped. “Mom! You mean it?”

  “There’ll be a fight. You’ll most likely get dragged into the middle.”

  “I don’t care! Do it, Mom!”

  “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Isn’t it what you want?”

  “I never wanted it any other way.”

  “Won’t Dad cause you a lot of trouble?”

  “Don’t worry about that.”

  “Mom, do I have to see a shrink Thursday morning?”

  “A what?”

  “Dad made me an appointment with this guy he knows.”

  Mercy bit her lip. Theo was using his mind games again. “I did not request a ‘shrink,’ Tedi. I told your father I wanted you to see a counselor.” And the jerk had set Tedi up with one of his friends in the “good old boy” system, but it wouldn’t do to complain about something like that now.

  “Why did you tell Dad I had to see a counselor?”

  “Because I want you to be able to talk about anything that is bothering you right now without having to worry if you’ll start a fight between your mom and dad. I want you to be able to trust someone who will listen and not cause trouble.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Tedi.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. Bye.”

  Thirty minutes later, a pizza supreme arrived at the door.

  Lukas had discovered, to his relief, that weeknight shifts at the Knolls E.R. were about as different from those in KC as the Mark Twain Forest was from Swope Park. He hadn’t seen a gang shooting since he’d arrived, and the few knife wounds he’d treated had been from the local poultry processing plant over in Summit. The only enemy most patients had was the specter of infection if they didn’t properly care for their wounds.

  What amazed Lukas even more was that some nights he even had a chance to sleep a few hours, which freed up his daytime hours to read through his junk mail. If he had lived closer to his dad and stepmom, he would have visited them on his days off. As it was, free time found him depending too much on television or hanging around the hospital to keep loneliness at bay.

  By Wednesday night he was too tired to think about being lonely, and he had little chance to sleep. He dozed off about three o’clock Thursday morning, but barely an hour later a loud screech from somewhere in the emergency room shot him up in bed with all the subtlety of an explosion.

  “Leggo of me, Emmett!” came a woman’s shrill voice. “I ain’t drunk! I din’t ev’n have a full jar!”

  It was Ruby Taylor’s voice, one well recognized here in the hospital. Lukas had treated her when she’d sprained an ankle at a country dance and had continued dancing with all the vigor a drinking binge could give her. Her family had dragged her in kicking and screaming that time, too. She didn’t like doctors. Great. Lukas threw off his blanket and sat up. From the other room he heard a tired male voice clearly.

  “I didn’t think she’d had time to drink too much this time, Nurse.”

  Lukas recognized Emmett Taylor’s longsuffering tone. Why did the hospital designers put the call rooms right here in the emergency department? Every single sound penetrated the door.

  Lukas braced himself to go out and face Ruby and her worried family—tradition had it that they always came as a group: the husband, drunk wife and two teenaged sons. From what Lukas had heard around the hospital, the Taylors drove an old ’76 model Ford truck held together by rust.

  “Did you see how much she drank?” the night nurse, Claudia, was asking the family as Lukas joined them in exam room two.

  “Prob’ly more’n she’s admittin’ to,” the fourteen-year-old piped up. “Ma can really put it away.”

  “Shut up, boy!” Ruby snapped. “I’m the patient here, Nurse. T-talk to me.”

  “Okay, I’m only trying to help you,” Claudia said patiently. “I need to check you out and see how your heart’s beating, how well you’re breathing, and—”

  “I don’t need checkin’ out! Emmett, get me outa here!”

  “Stop it, Ruby,” the husband said. “You’re sick, you’re throwin’ up, and I know you have another bad headache.” He glanced at Claudia, then Lukas. “She’s been awfully moody lately, Doc. She can’t even walk straight across the front porch.”

  “Yeah,” the sixteen-year-old said. “I had to catch her once tonight, or she’d’ve fallen.”

  Ruby, a middle-aged woman with premature gray hair and a permanent frown, turned to glare at Lukas. “You’re the doc that treated me last time. Tell ’em they’re crazy. I ain’t drunk.”

  Lukas stepped forward with his stethoscope. “Okay, if you don’t need to be here, I’ll tell them to take you home. Since you’re already here, though, and you obviously don’t feel well, let’s see if we can help you feel a little better before you leave.”

  She held a hand up to ward him off. “I ain’t sick! Get away from me, all of you!”

  Lukas was close enough that the fumes from her breath nearly choked him. He glanced at the husband. “May I speak with you a moment outside, Mr. Taylor?” He turned to Claudia, a competent, no-nonsense nurse in her fifties. “Please get Mrs. Taylor’s blood pressure and pulse if you can. Temp, too, if possible.” He turned to lead the husband out into the hallway.

  “What is it, Doc?” Emmett Taylor looked te
n years younger than his wife, even with the frown and defeated expression that seemed to be a part of him. “You can treat her, can’t you?”

  The shrill sound of Ruby’s voice reached them from the other room. “Get that thing off me! Help me, somebody, they’re takin’ my arm off!”

  “Ruby, hold still,” Claudia soothed. “It won’t read your pressure right if you don’t—no, don’t pull it off!”

  Mr. Taylor shook his head and grimaced. “She’s worse than ever. I can’t even get her to see reason anymore.”

  “When did she start drinking today?” Lukas asked.

  “About dinnertime. You’re not gonna send me back home with her like this, are you? We don’t know what to do with her there.”

  Lukas suppressed a weary sigh. Alcohol use seemed widespread in this town, but then, that was the case in every town. He got most of his drunks late at night, especially on weekends. “I need you to sign a consent for us to treat her,” he said. “She’s obviously incapable of making that decision.”

  “Yeah, show me the paper. I’ll sign anything you need, Dr. Bower. She seems to be gettin’ worse, especially when she drinks.”

  “What do you man ‘especially’? Does she do this when she hasn’t been drinking?”

  Emmett frowned thoughtfully. “Seems like it. Sometimes she just starts getting bad while she’s drinking and stays that way awhile after. She doesn’t get over her hangovers as well as she used to, either.” He sidled closer and lowered his voice. “Doc, you think it’s the change?”

  “The change?”

  “Yeah, you know, the midlife thing. I hear women go out of their heads when that happens. A couple of times last night she doubled over and grabbed at her stomach and screamed like she did when she was givin’ birth.”

  “Since we haven’t been able to get close enough to examine her, I don’t know what it is yet. Has she been drinking more than usual lately? Does she drink every day?”

  “I don’t see her drink every day, no.”

  “She hasn’t hit her head lately, has she? Maybe it’s something besides the alcohol.”

  “She never told me about it if she did.” Emmett shook his head. “I don’t know, Doc.”