Life Everlasting

by Robert Whitlow

  Finally, a short, older doctor with a surgical mask hanging from his neck came into the waiting area. He lifted his bushy gray eyebrows and scanned the room.

  “Mrs. Morgan?” he called out.

  Alexia tentatively raised her hand. “I’m with Ted Morgan.”

  The doctor approached her.

  “Let’s go to a consultation room,” he said.

  Two small rooms stood off the larger waiting room. They entered the nearest one.

  “I’m Dr. Hayes,” the surgeon said. “Have a seat.”

  “How is he?” Alexia asked.

  “He’s in the recovery area and should be in a regular room within an hour. He had a comminuted fracture of several bones in his left hand. That means multiple bones in his hand were shattered. The chart indicates he was the victim of an assault. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. There was a break-in at my office, and we surprised the burglars. He blocked a metal object aimed for my face. I think it was one of those big flashlights. All I suffered was a bloody nose.”

  “You’re fortunate. If the damage to his hand is any indication of the force involved, you could have been seriously hurt or worse if the blow had fallen directly on you.”

  “But what about him? He’s a music minister and very talented pianist.”

  Dr. Hayes gave Alexia a serious look.

  “I put his hand back together the best I could. In addition to broken bones, he has nerve and tendon damage caused by jagged pieces of displaced bone. I repaired and reattached the damaged tendons, but the nerve damage may be permanent. Pins and screws in his hand will greatly limit his ability to perform rapid finger movements or stretch out his hand. He will be able to do activities requiring gross manual dexterity, but I can’t make any promises about whether he’ll use it to play the piano.”

  Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “He’s not just an ordinary pianist who plays a few hymns on Sunday mornings. He has concert talent. A few weeks ago he filled in at a benefit concert at the Francis Marion.”

  Dr. Hayes eyebrows shot up. “Really? My wife was there and told me what happened.”

  Alexia continued to shake her head in disbelief.

  “Is there a chance he will regain full use of his hand?” she persisted.

  Dr. Hayes shook his head. “No. I can’t restore what is totally gone, only give back as much as possible. I’m deeply sorry this happened.”

  Alexia blinked back tears. “Thanks,” she managed.

  “The attendant will be able to tell you his room number within the hour. I’ll be by to check him tomorrow afternoon.”

  The doctor left, but Alexia didn’t move. Running through her mind were snippets of musical passages from the times she’d eavesdropped in the narthex of the Sandy Flats Church. Rachmaninoff, Beethoven, Debussy, Chopin, Weber. The possibility that the glorious sounds would be forever silenced placed her in even greater shock.

  “This can’t be,” she spoke aloud to the empty room. “Not to Ted.”

  She stared unseeing across the room at a bare wall. In a few seconds, scenes from the sanctuary floated before her mind’s eye—Ted on the piano bench in front of the altar rail, his head bowed, his hands giving voice to his talent as they moved up and down the keyboard. Images at the church were joined by scenes from the cottage, where the music minister poured out his gift unselfishly for a young man he didn’t even know. Alexia closed her eyes, but the pictures continued.

  “Stop it!” she called out.

  The images stopped. But as soon as they did, she regretted her command.

  “No,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

  She kept her eyes closed without considering the passage of time. When she raised her head, she looked at her watch. Perhaps Ted had been taken to a room. She walked over to the attendant and asked him to check on Ted’s status. The young man made a phone call and then gave her the room number.

  Alexia took the elevator to the proper floor. Before going down the hall, she stopped at a restroom to check her appearance. She was a mess: her eyes bloodshot, her face puffy, her nose beginning to turn purple on the right side, her hair stringy. All she could do was run a brush through her hair. She left the restroom and walked down the hall to Ted’s room. The door was cracked open. She slowly pushed it open. The first bed in the room was empty.

  Ted lay on his back with his eyes closed, his right hand limp on top of the sheet with an IV drip attached to it, and his left hand out of sight under the covers. Alexia walked slowly over to the bed.

  “Ted,” she spoke softly. “It’s Alexia.”

  Ted’s eyes opened slightly at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t speak. Alexia started to speak again but didn’t. He needed to rest. The things she wanted to say to him would have to wait until he was able to understand. He fell asleep, and she quietly left the room.

  Jeffrey Richardson shifted in his seat in Ezra’s office.

  “What happened?” the older man asked.

  “Lindale and Morgan surprised the cleaning crew, but they got away without a problem. It’s an old building without any type of security system. Morgan is in the hospital in Charleston with a broken hand. Lindale wasn’t hurt.”

  “And the information?”

  “They got the hard copy of the list from her file and checked her computer for any records. It was clean. Unless she made some phone calls, there’s no indication that she’d begun any research. The crew was almost finished when she came into the office. If she’d been a minute later they would have been gone.”

  “What about the police investigation?”

  “Word on the street says it was a routine break-in, probably people looking for money to buy drugs.”

  “Was any money stolen?”

  “Yes, they took a petty-cash drawer from the secretary’s office as a diversion.”

  Ezra leaned back in his chair. “Okay. That’s one less thing to worry about.”

  “What have you done about Rena?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Nothing directly. The solicitor in Mitchell County is a man named Vince Kinston. He’s been in office a long time, and I’m told his enforcement of the law is more flexible than most. A subtle word at the right time will probably keep everything quiet. As soon as that happens, we need to eliminate the risk.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We must make sure Rena doesn’t create any problems in the future. We can’t let her dictate to us; we have to dictate to her.”

  “How?”

  Ezra pressed his lips tightly together before he spoke. “We need a permanent solution.”

  Jeffrey shook his head. “Don’t ask me to do anything like that.”

  “I won’t. All you’ll do is place a phone call to the right person at the right time.”

  Late Sunday afternoon, Alexia returned to the hospital. Word of Ted’s injury had swept through the congregation of the Sandy Flats Church, and a steady stream of visitors flowed through his hospital room all afternoon. She passed a man and woman with familiar faces as she walked down the hall. They gave her a close look as well. Alexia wasn’t sure if they recognized her or simply couldn’t ignore the large purple splotch spreading out from her nose to her cheek. She knocked softly on the door of Ted’s room. A familiar voice answered.

  “Come in!”

  She pushed open the door and found Ted alert and sitting up in bed. Several arrangements of flowers brightened the windowsill. His left hand was hidden under the sheet.

  “Hey,” she said tentatively. “How are you?”

  “Glad that I don’t have to do anything except lie here. How is your nose?”

  “Just bruised, thanks to you.”

  Ted’s right hand was still connected to an IV, but he raised it slightly and gestured toward the flowers. “Why would people send flowers to a guy?”

  Alexia smiled. “Because they care about you. What would you rather have?”

  �
�For you to sit beside me.”

  Alexia pulled a chair close and sat down. She could see the outline of Ted’s left hand underneath the sheet.

  “That’s better,” Ted said.

  “How is your hand?”

  “It hurts. I’m on pain medication but nothing that knocks me out. I wanted to be able to talk intelligently to the people who came by.”

  “And enjoy your flowers.”

  “Which look much better with your face in the foreground.”

  Alexia glanced again at his left hand. “Have you talked to the doctor?”

  “Yes, he came by after lunch. He said that he’d talked to my wife last night.”

  Alexia flashed a sheepish grin. “I didn’t correct him because I wanted to find out about your condition.”

  “You’re forgiven. He spent quite a bit of time explaining the damage and what he’d done to correct it. Did he discuss the prognosis with you?”

  Alexia nodded. “Yes.”

  Suddenly, tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. She bit her lip.

  “And he told me that if you hadn’t reached out your hand—” she stopped, her voice choking. The tears in her eyes overflowed.

  Ted pulled his left hand from beneath the sheet. It was swathed in bandages with only the tips of his fingers visible. Raising it to her face, he gently touched her cheeks, capturing her tears in the clean white gauze.

  He spoke softly. “There’s no need to cry.”

  Alexia looked down. “The thought that you won’t be able to play again . . . I feel so responsible.”

  “No,” Ted answered in a strong voice. “I would do it again.” He held up the bandaged hand. “I would rather have this than see you badly hurt. You are so beautiful.”

  Alexia broke. She buried her face in the sheets and sobbed. After a few seconds, Ted put his left hand on her head. Neither spoke. Finally, Alexia lifted her face. Her eyes were red and swollen.

  Ted spoke. “Maybe I’m still in shock, but I feel the grace of God to cope with this.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I, but for now I’m at peace. That’s more than I could hope for, and I want you to have faith that everything will be alright too.”

  Alexia looked at the bandaged hand, and her lip trembled. “I’ll try.”

  “Let me rest my hand on yours.”

  Alexia put her right hand on the edge of the bed. Ted carefully laid his left hand on top of hers. They sat together quietly. No visitors disturbed them.

  The police left Alexia a voice mail at her home number informing her about the money missing from Gwen’s petty-cash drawer. Early Monday morning, Alexia returned to the office. Gwen was waiting for her. When the secretary saw Alexia’s face, she wiped away a quick tear and gave her a hug.

  “Rachel called me yesterday. I tried to reach you in the afternoon, but you weren’t home.”

  “I was at the hospital with Ted.”

  “How is he taking it?”

  “Like a saint.”

  Alexia told Gwen what had happened. Both women ended up with tissues in their hands.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Alexia said when she finished. “It’s beyond me.”

  “I know what I think,” Gwen said.

  Alexia raised her eyebrows. “What?”

  “That you should get him down the aisle of that old church where you’ve been hanging out as soon as his finger is well enough to be fitted with a gold ring.”

  Alexia smiled through teary eyes. “That’s up to him.”

  Gwen smiled back. “That’s never been true for any man. A woman’s influence is the key to a man’s decision.”

  The two women walked into Alexia’s office. It looked exactly as it had the previous Friday.

  “Is anything missing?” Gwen asked.

  “I haven’t found anything out of place except the few dollars in your drawer.”

  “So what did the thieves want?”

  Alexia shook her head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Alexia spent much of her morning fielding phone calls from sympathetic acquaintances who had learned about the break-in. Near lunchtime, Gwen buzzed her.

  “Rena is on the phone.”

  “Did you talk to her?”

  “Yes, for a minute. She didn’t know about the break-in.”

  Alexia picked up the phone.

  “Your secretary told me what happened,” Rena began. “That’s horrible. Are you okay?”

  “I have a bruised nose, but otherwise, I’m fine. Ted is the one with serious injuries.”

  Rena listened without interrupting as Alexia told her the details.

  When Alexia finished, Rena asked, “Do you know what they were after?”

  “The police think they were looking for money. They took a small amount of cash from Gwen’s drawer.”

  “That’s not what I believe,” Rena responded.

  “What do you think?” Alexia asked in surprise.

  “That it’s not a coincidence. Like the person who tried to run you off the road near your house. It’s all connected to the Richardson family.”

  Alexia could count on Rena to come up with a conspiracy theory that put herself at the epicenter. She considered ignoring the comment but couldn’t resist a further question. At least her client no longer seemed on the verge of a mental breakdown.

  “Why do you say that? What do I have that they would want?”

  “The list of companies Jeffrey gave me,” Rena answered. “Jeffrey called me a couple of days ago and asked me to give him my copy. Didn’t he fax you a copy too?”

  “No, you did. Jeffrey and I talked about the list but never discussed any specifics. He was going to contact me with more information but never did.”

  “Do you still have the list?”

  “Let me check.”

  Alexia put the call on hold and went to her filing cabinet. Rena’s files took up almost half a drawer, but she knew exactly where she’d deposited the sheet. Taking out the folder, Alexia quickly flipped through it without finding the list of companies. Slowing down, she checked again. It was gone. She returned to the phone.

  “It’s not where I put it,” she said.

  “See, I told you.”

  Alexia started to mention that she still had the information on her computer at home, but stopped. She couldn’t trust Rena to keep anything confidential.

  “Why would he go to that much trouble?” she asked.

  “Because the Richardsons are crooks. I’ve been telling you that for months.”

  “Did you give Jeffrey your list?

  “Yes, but I’m not stupid. I kept a copy.”

  Alexia’s mind was spinning. Why would the Richardsons go to so much trouble to hide the names of corporations whose existence was a public record?

  Rena continued. “If you research those companies, you’ll find something illegal.”

  “But why would I do that? I don’t work for the police. Have you changed your mind about suing Ezra or filing for a divorce?”

  “No, but if I’m going to be falsely accused of trying to hurt Baxter, I want everyone to know the truth about his family. They’re behind the charges filed against me.”

  “No, Giles Porter took out the warrant.”

  “They’re manipulating him then. Ezra has powerful friends across the state. He’s always taking a big-shot politician out to play golf.”

  If Rena’s previous accusation had proven groundless, Alexia would have ignored her second claim. As it was, she made a note on her legal pad.

  “I’ll talk to Sean about it. I need to call him about the preliminary hearing anyway.”

  “Do you want me to send you another copy?”

  Alexia thought about Ted’s hand and the danger the other list had caused. “No. I’ll let you know if I want it. How is Baxter?”

  Rena sighed. “Weaker and weaker. I don’t like to go to the hospital and run into his family though, so I’ve been calling the nurs
es’ station to find out what’s going on.”

  42

  For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

  JOHN 3:16 KJV

  Alexia pushed the speakerphone button and continued talking to Sean Pruitt. The Charleston lawyer’s shock and genuine concern about the weekend events made Alexia realize he cared about her as a person, not just a professional colleague. Alexia shifted their discussion to preparations for the preliminary hearing in Rena’s case.

  “It will be your chance to dissect Giles Porter,” Alexia said.

  “Yes, and according to Skip, the magistrate assigned to the case is right friendly to defense lawyers.”

  “When are you going to Mitchell County?”

  “I’ll fly up early Thursday morning so I can talk to potential witnesses. I may even hike to the waterfall. Will you be able to bring Rena on Friday morning?”

  “Yes. Is anything happening with the grand jury in Charleston?”

  “Not yet. They don’t meet until next Monday. They’ll probably watch the videotape, but they’ll need additional evidence to support an indictment against Rena for anything other than lying to the police.”

  Alexia had trouble concentrating on her work. Toward the middle of the afternoon, Gwen buzzed her.

  “Ted is on the phone.”

  Glad for the interruption, Alexia picked it up. “How are you?”

  “Sitting in my living room. Dr. Hayes released me late this morning and told me to come back next Monday. A member of the church drove me home.”

  “Were you ready to leave the hospital?”

  “I could have stayed, but my health-insurance company thought otherwise.”

  “What about the bandages on your hand?”

  “My family doctor can change the dressings, but for now I have a private-duty nurse who is going to take care of me.”

  “Who?”

  “Sarah Locklear. She left the house a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, how did she find out what happened?”

  Alexia’s concern for Ted overshadowed any vestige of jealousy.

  “One of the aides heard about it and phoned her. Sarah and I talked quite a bit about Baxter.”