by Hart Johnson
“You haven't had any symptoms?”
“You know me. I'm as healthy as a horse.”
Strictly speaking, Sarah knew that wasn't true. Donna had always had back problems, and there was an inhaler in the kitchen that was hers, but she was active and definitely not in poor health. She was also one of those people who wasn't going to let aches or pains get her down. Sarah gave her one of the face masks she'd packed, just in case, but Donna wouldn't hear of it.
Sarah knew not to push. “How are things in town?” she asked instead.
That darkened Donna's face. “A lot of deaths.”
Sarah could have guessed that much, but she and David would need to check for themselves. She didn't think Donna knew what to look for, and if Sarah got too specific in asking questions, it would make Donna more nervous than she already was.
They got their chance to check things out the next morning. David planned on taking over cooking. His mom resisted until he explained it would free her to nurse Joe, then she relented. It was Saturday and there was a farmer's market. And David, being who he was, needed the kitchen stocked his own way, so they set out early to hit it and then head to a few other stores.
“This is lame,” he said as they walked past the initial booths.
“Not lame.”
“Sorry, my PC fianceé. Dire. Grim. Sad. But not lame.”
“Thank you. And I agree. Grim. But part of that has to be that it's November.”
“Maybe. But normally for Thanksgiving and Christmas prep, they haul out their big guns.”
They bought some things and headed to the local Safeway for the rest of what they needed. On the way they passed Saint Patrick's Hospital.
Needed: Medical Professionals of all sorts. Hiring immediately, flashed on the marquee.
“And there's a job for you,” David said.
“Yeah, if they don't require a flu shot.”
“Make it a condition. They look desperate.”
Sarah looked at the sign again. They sort of did. “I'll come see once we get your dad sorted.”
David's mouth tightened and she saw how scared he was. He hadn't shown it until now. “Is he gonna make it?”
“I wasn't lying to your mom. He's strong and healthy and I think his odds are good.”
“Mom would fall apart without him. They were high school sweethearts.”
Sarah reached over and touched his leg. She didn't think it happened often that high school sweethearts survived as a couple, but Joe and Donna really were made for each other.
By Monday morning David's dad had turned a corner. David was thrilled when Sarah declared him 'out of the woods' and he woke his mom to tell her. She was hard to wake and it didn't take long to determine that she was beginning to show symptoms. All their plans went out the window. David ran between his parents, trying to help the one recover and desperate to see that the other didn't get worse, but she did.
Sarah stayed at her side doing everything she could, but her asthma complicated things. Within thirty-six hours, Donna was having too much trouble breathing to be taken care of without medicine. And like Portland, the hospital was too full to take her.
“Isn't there anything?” David begged.
“Give me directions back to the hospital.” She had a plan she thought would work.
David pulled out a map and showed her; Missoula was only so big, so it wouldn't be that hard to find.
Finding the HR department within the hospital, on the other hand, was a challenge. Nobody seemed to know anything, even how to provide health care. But certainly not who she should talk to about a job.
Rental beds were set up down one side of the hallway and rooms looked like they had extra people in them. The skeleton crew was running ragged.
When she finally found her way, the man who met her appeared not to have been home in several days. He wore slacks and a button-down, but his clothes were rumpled and sweat-stained and his face had a few days of stubble.
“What can I do for you?” He sounded as exhausted as he looked, which was saying something.
“In thirty-six hours I'm willing to come be a full-time employee here if you can help me meet a few conditions.”
Sarah told him her training and employment history, and the rumor and evidence she'd seen that the vaccine was tainted and that was why so many health care workers were dying.
“I was vaccinated.”
“Well, I won't be. Take it or leave it. I've been exposed several times, and you're the first person I've met who survived the vaccine.”
“Fine. You said conditions. Plural.”
“My soon-to-be mother-in-law has the virus and it's mixing badly with her asthma. I need steroids for her. If there is a doctor to spare, I can go the normal route, but I suspect there isn't.”
“You've been practicing how long?”
“Five years, but I also grew up with a brother with asthma. I know a breathing emergency when I see one.”
“Off the record?”
“Of course.”
He nodded. “I need all your local information so we can come drag you back if you don't come back on your own.” They were joking words, but Sarah suspected there was more than a little truth to them.
“I will. I'm needed. I never would have left my job in Portland but I feared for my life.”
She pulled up the information which was stored in her phone and wrote it down for him because he wouldn't get her the needed drugs until she did. Part of her regretted the trade on her way out. More than one of the skeleton crew of nurses looked sick to her and she couldn't help but think it would only get worse before she got back. But she had what she needed to help Donna, and by the time she had to return, Joe would be recovered enough to help, and the path Donna was on would be clear—she'd turn the corner or be beyond medical help. She sped home.
It was a good effort. Donna's breathing improved with the steroids, and at least she had some lucid moments. Among them was a moment she begged Sarah to take care of her baby, meaning David, and regret she hadn't seen David and Sarah married. They talked about it and decided it was one last thing they could do for her. Joe called a preacher friend of his to the house and they held a small ceremony. David's brother Jack even got there in time to be best man and say good-bye to his mother.
Donna didn't make it much longer, but she seemed happy in her last hours. She kept talking of the grandchildren that would come and how happy she was David had somebody who loved him so much. That night she fell into a fevered sleep and her breathing got shallower at a rapid pace. She died in Joe's arms with Sarah feeling helpless next to him.
All of that occurred before it was time for Sarah to check in to work.
She hated to leave her broken-hearted new family, but a deal was a deal. Sarah had always been a person who kept her word, even if she had to do it the long way. She thought about her parents, nestled down in Southern Oregon. They'd been fine the last time she talked to them—she hadn't worried about them at all. But with everything that had happened, she wondered if she'd ever see them again. She hoped the world hadn't changed beyond recognition before that happened.
1.
12. Dorene Radcliff:
Atlanta, Georgia
The World Turns Upside-down
Dorene tried to call Corbin again a few days later and a man answered the phone who sounded familiar and not at the same time.
“Corbin?”
“No. I'm sorry. May I ask who's calling?”
“Dorene Radcliff. I'm Corbin's... that's to say...”
“I know who you are, Miss Radcliff.” He paused and Dorene had the impression he was collecting his thoughts. “This is Conrad Tildon, Corbin's father. My son has spoken very highly of you.” Another pause. This one worried her. “Honey, I'm sorry to break this to you, but he didn't make it.”
“What?” She didn't believe it at first, and thought maybe she was confusing what she was hearing with what was happening to her dad. Had that been grief she'd heard
in Mr. Tildon's voice before? She'd met the man at one of the benefits Corbin took her to, though she doubted he would remember, as it was before she and Corbin were serious. She remembered his voice, which was normally smoother.
Conrad Tildon was a businessman. Which was like saying an ocean liner was a skiff. He had interests far and wide and was CEO of multiple companies.
“It's a shock, I know,” he said. “He was young and had no health problems.”
Dorene's throat tightened and it took a minute before she could speak. “Will there be a service?”
“Thursday. Just a small service at the house, but I know he'd want you to be there if you can.”
“Of course. My father is sick, too, but unless he takes a sudden turn for the worse...”
“If so, we'd all understand. Thank you for being in my son's life, Miss Radcliff. I know you meant a great deal to him.”
Dead. It was unfathomable. Tears stung her eyes. She didn't know if she'd ever meant to get serious about Corbin. If she were honest, she may have let it happen, but it wouldn't have really been the life she wanted. Still, she cared. And it really was conceivable she'd have ended up Dorene Radcliff-Tildon one day. She would get to the service and pay her respects. There was no way she couldn't.
Her father's health was failing, but not so fast she didn't feel comfortable taking the time to drive to Baton Rouge for Corbin's service, even if it was a long drive. She went down the day before and found a modest hotel so she'd be fresh in the morning.
When Mr. Tildon had said 'a small service at the house' Dorene had made some assumptions that involved 'small' and 'house'. Neither was true. The Tildon Estate was hundreds of acres of orchards and vineyards, as well as some sort of wetland. The mansion was at the top of a hill overlooking it all, built with a classic wrap-around porch, covered by the deck above and equipped with ceiling fans which she suspected were never turned off.
It was warmer here than Atlanta had been and comfortable to be outside; the breeze from the fans was nice. A hundred or so chairs were spread across the large lawn, with a podium, a coffin and a cross twice the height of a man at the front. White lilies were everywhere, complimented by a much smaller number of red roses. Her chest tightened as she thought of the roses Corbin had sent that she had left sitting on the landing outside her apartment. Could he really be gone?
A man in a light gray suit with salt and pepper hair came to greet her. He looked older than she remembered, but he was still a handsome man. “Miss Radcliff. I'm so glad you could make it.”
“I'm so sorry about Corbin, Mr. Tildon. I really cared about him,” Dorene said.
“Please. Call me Conrad. He felt the same, honey. In fact I confess to having hopes you'd be my daughter-in-law one day.”
“Is Mrs. Tildon here, too? I'd like to pay my respects.”
Corbin had always talked about his father with respect, but the personal feelings were somewhat mixed. His mother, on the other hand, sounded like a lovely woman and Dorene had never had the chance to meet her.
“I'm afraid she is too ill to be here. I'll be sure to pass on your warm thoughts.”
Dorene looked at Conrad and couldn't understand why he wasn't more distraught. He'd sounded more upset on the phone, but he almost seemed normal to her now. Conrad had a second son who was managing the Tildon holdings in Asia—Corbin had talked about visiting his brother in Tokyo. But a dead son and possibly a dying wife would normally be associated with more emotion. Unless he was just afraid to let out the stopper. She did know men like that.
“Here, honey. Let me introduce you to Brother Beau.”
Dorene frowned before she caught herself. Of course the Tildons were connected enough to have the famous preacher speak at Corbin's funeral, never mind that she felt like she couldn't get away from the man at home because he was always on television. Corbin wouldn't have liked it any better than she did. He claimed religion was a personal matter and mixing it with politics was bad manners. “Praying to God is one thing. Spreading him around like butter is using him,” he’d said. It was one of his political views she respected.
“Brother?” Conrad pulled Brother Beau from a conversation with another man, but as this was Conrad's show, neither of them seemed to mind. “This young lady is Dorene Radcliff, the love of my son Corbin's life.”
That was far too strong for Dorene's preference, but Brother Beau took her hand too quickly for her to correct the statement.
“Oh, child. I'm so sorry for your loss. I was hoping maybe you could tell me a few personal things about Corbin. I mean... a father's love is a sure thing, but it is only one side of the man. Can you tell me a few things about him?”
He still had a hold of Dorene's hand and she tried to tug gently to free it, but he held fast.
“He was very smart,” she said. “And the hardest working man I knew.” Those things were true, at least.
“Which is saying something. I know who your daddy is. But... what did Corbin care about?”
Power. “Justice. And he was very involved with charitable work—he volunteered for a number of charities—did pro bono work for them.” Though the preacher’s comment about her father sat funny with her. Why would he bring that up?
“There are some good points.” He still hadn't let go of her hand. “Could you share a few more?”
“Well, several cancer charities. For me. My mother died of cancer. And half a dozen children's charities.”
“Oh, very good. And do you know what his dreams were?”
What the hell? This was his funeral. Might as well lay it on thick. “Public service. He was much more interested in justice than money, so I think he would have continued on the path he was on. Perhaps he would have been a judge one day.” Or a senator. But he definitely wasn't Daddy.
Conrad put his arm over Dorene's shoulder and Brother Beau finally let go of her hand. Conrad gave her a squeeze. “You sit with the family, sweetheart. Right up front there.”
She scanned the grounds and realized the chairs were filling in and the long driveway was completely lined with cars. He led her to a chair that was next to his own, though he left her there to go greet a few more people.
“You must be the girlfriend.”
Dorene turned to her left. Under a large hat with netting over the face and a feminine navy and lace suit was an extended, gloved hand.
“Dorene Radcliff,” she said.
“Ah, that's right. The senator's daughter. Suzanne Peletier—Corbin's aunt on his mother's side.”
“Nice to meet you. I hope your sister recovers.”
Her mouth tightened “Yes, well... I just wish I could get in to see her. I've had my shot. She's my sister, after all.”
“You can't see her?”
“Some nonsense about what I might be carrying. They have her locked up like Fort Knox.”
That seemed strange to Dorene, but there wasn't time to ask more about it, as Conrad sat down then and Brother Beau walked to the podium.
The service was pretentious and verbose, but Dorene had gotten enough of a feel for the Tilden family that she knew it was just their way. She stayed for about an hour afterward, but then made her excuses of needing to get back to Atlanta. Even with no traffic, it would take her the rest of the day, and she just wanted to be home with her father.
It was uncharitable so soon after Corbin's death, but as she drove and the air outside her car cooled, she breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn't be joining the Tildon family.
By Saturday Dorene's father had lost consciousness. The doctor said all they could do at that point was keep him comfortable. She suspected the doctor was giving more than the legal dose of morphine, but she'd read enough about kidney failure to know it was usually painful, so that was okay with her. It wasn't like he wasn't dying anyway—a few hours less pain would be a blessing and she and her father had already said their good-byes.
She was glad it wasn't long after that. It was hard to see her father as an empty shell. He d
ied on Tuesday.
In the wake of his passing, she held the obligatory service, not smaller than Corbin's, because her father was a beloved public figure, but it was much more understated. He wouldn't have wanted resources diverted from the crisis. She asked the preacher to explain that and in the newspaper announcement, which ran only online, she suggested food donations to local charities be given in lieu of flowers.
Dorene was given dozens of business cards and offers to help, a few even from people she trusted and hadn't thought to contact before, but when the service was over, she still felt like she needed to be the person to go through her father's things. She was an only child and at this point, the end of the line in her family history. It was her legacy.
At both his home and capital offices, she'd rather go through things sooner than later.
She gave herself another day after the funeral to sort her emotions, then asked Tommy, who had taken over as her father's driver from his grandfather a few years earlier, to take her. The news made it sound like Atlanta was getting more dangerous, and she felt she was safer to not be alone. She would always be the daughter of a beloved senator, and therefore a target for the nuts.
She and Tommy used her father's electronic access to park in the structure across the street and then went down to the tunnels that ran underneath to cross to the capital. They found themselves at a private set of elevators and used his access card again to go up and let themselves into his suite of offices.
People knew who she was. Dorene had been in and out the previous week. But she formally got Tommy a guest pass so he could freely make copies for her and use the staff cafeteria without being quizzed around every turn. People were distinctly paranoid, it seemed, but at the very least, it would be nice if Tommy could help her carry boxes.
She decided to sort her father's things into three piles as she went through them: personal, maintenance, and policy. She would take the former home, give the maintenance to her father's page, and pass the policy issues on to Branson Coleridge, the man her father had appointed as acting senator until the next election, or the governor made a different appointment. They were all the same party, so the governor had to have better things to do than undermine his former colleague and friend, but there was no certainty in politics.
