by Barbara Ebel
“It’ll be twenty minutes,” said the voice on the other end, “and thirteen ninety-five.”
Danny hung up and leaned over. Elegant handwriting, as feminine as Rachel herself.
Dear Danny,
I’m leaving Nashville for a while. Have a nice holiday with your girls. Please take care of Dakota.
Love, Rachel
Danny read it three times, then again as he sat on the couch. He turned it over, wanting to see more words, an entire explanation. But there weren’t any. Beyond the paper in his hands, there were two big amber eyes gazing at him. “What do you know, Dakota? Did she go to her sister’s in Chicago?” The dog pressed his muzzle on Danny’s knee.
The pizza arrived semi-warm but dripping with oil, New York style, the way Danny liked it. He ate the first slice quickly, sipping a beer behind it, and then waved the crust at Dakota. “Dead dog,” Danny said. Dakota obeyed, then sprang up, and sat erect. “Gimme five,” Danny said. Dakota pranced both paws into the air, and then snapped down the chunk of pizza crust, bonding with Danny forever.
___________
In the morning, Danny walked Dakota and mailed the signed divorce papers. He drove to the hospital late in the morning for rounds; Harold and Danny had split up the weekend call and Danny chose Saturday. After seeing patients and taking care of notes and orders he went to the lounge, poured fresh coffee, and thumbed through papers for the latest newspaper. He read a section of The Tennessean and occasionally glanced at television, which showed the newly elected President giving a speech. Would wise change come?
At two-thirty Danny left the lounge and went to the ER, to see if there were any potential neuro cases before he left and to check on Casey’s schedule. The ER was busy for an afternoon, but nothing that needed his evaluation. When Danny inquired about Casey’s whereabouts, the secretary at the desk pointed outside the glass doors to the ambulance.
The back doors of the truck were open. Casey buckled an empty stretcher, tidying the inside at the end of his shift. “Hey, stranger,” Danny said.
“Hey, you coming or going?”
“Leaving. If you don’t have plans, how about a late lunch or an early dinner? My treat when you’re finished. Downtown Italy.”
Casey beamed. “Sure thing. Mary and I don’t have any special dinner plans.”
“Meet you there,” Danny said.
___________
Inside Downtown Italy, the linen-topped tables were aligned into several sitting areas for catered parties that evening. The maitre d’ showed Danny to a table for two near the entrance. He watched pedestrians walk briskly, sometimes stopping at decorated store fronts.
“Hope you didn’t wait too long,” Casey said when he entered. “I had forgotten. I promised a patient I would help him at the end of my shift.”
A stocky waiter politely interrupted to describe the special of the day.
“What did you do for him?” Danny asked when the waiter left.
“You’re not going to believe this one. Mark and I made an ambulance run today. We find this man in his house having a heart attack, clutching at his chest, pain running down his arm.” Casey paused, taking a sip of water. “We’re extracting as much information from him as we can while hooking him to oxygen, taking his vitals. While he’s grasping for air, he’s telling us, ‘Go to the bedroom closet. You gotta take the women’s clothes out of there.’ So Mark says ‘take your wife’s clothes out of the closet?’ The man shakes his head no, tells us his wife is away and the woman he’s having an affair with left clothes in their closet. His wife will find them if he’s taken to the hospital.” Casey unsnapped his cell phone from his belt and placed it aside. “I pointed out to him that we wouldn’t know his girlfriend’s clothes from his wife’s clothes.”
“What did he say to that?”
“As he was practically having another heart attack on top of the heart attack, he then told us to get rid of all the women’s clothes in the closet.”
Danny sat stunned by the desperation of it.
“As we’re wheeling him out on a stretcher, we told him we couldn’t do that anyway. After my shift, I asked him if he had contacted someone to help him with that, like I promised. A friend was going over there. And the patient is next in line for the cardiac cath lab.”
“That poor man,” Danny said.
“Lately, I’m facing the same lesson in my personal and professional life.”
“What’s that?”
“Not to be judgmental.”
“And my recent lesson,” Danny added “is not to say things I don’t mean.”
The pager vibrated on Danny’s waist as he read the menu “It’s not the hospital,” Danny said, checking the number. “Good thing. I’ve got a dog to walk by this evening.”
“Since when do you own a dog?” Casey asked as Danny pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
“It belongs to Rachel.”
“Wellington’s Life Care,” someone said on the line.
“Yes, someone paged me, it’s Dr. Tilson.”
“Dr. Tilson, this is Charlotte, at the front desk. We’ve been refurbishing here, as well as decorating and rummaging through storage cabinets. Someone found a small paper bag with a few of your father’s things. Can you pick them up?”
“Sure. I’ll stop by later.” Danny shrugged his shoulders. “That was Dad’s nursing home. Apparently we’ve left some of his items.”
“Thank the chef for us,” Danny said to the waiter as they left. Casey and Danny parted outside the door. “Say hi to Mary,” Danny said. “I’ll bring the wine on Christmas Eve.”
___________
Two volunteers straightened lopsided blinking lights hanging in the foyer while Danny passed them on his way to the front desk. The smell of pine and wintergreen shrouded Wellington’s smell of disinfectant. The woman he had spoken with, Charlotte, recognized him, picked up a plastic bag and waved it in the air.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Hope it’s nothing important since it’s been sitting here. It has your Dad’s name on the masking tape label.”
“Appreciate the call.” He turned to leave but had an afterthought, so he stopped.
“I don’t know how it works, but can someone else bring Dakota here to visit the patients besides Rachel? Perhaps my daughters?”
“Dakota?”
“Rachel’s therapy dog.”
Charlotte stared blankly at Danny.
“Rachel is a nurse. She has a trained therapy dog named Dakota. They come here to visit the residents.”
“Dr. Tilson, we have never had a handler with a therapy dog volunteer here. I wish we did, it’s a wonderful idea. But I would know about it, I’m in charge of resident activities.”
Chapter 22
The hectic pace in the office kept Danny so busy on Monday that his first opportunity to contact Mark Cunningham only arrived as Stewart and Richard readied with the plaintiff’s attorney to take Danny’s deposition.
“Mark,” Danny said, calling from his office, “I put the signed divorce papers in the mail over the weekend along with a check for your legal fees. But, you accidentally sent me Sara’s bill. Want me to send it back?”
Mark cleared his throat. “Jim Dorsey and Sara have requested that you pay it. If you don’t, they’ll just bring it before a Judge.”
A cloud of confusion agitated Danny. Hadn’t he given them everything they’d asked for? Why did he deserve this? “Mark, why should I pay her bills? In essence, I’m already paying the bill since I’m giving her most of my income. She can pay it from the alimony.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Danny.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s called discrepancy of income. You have the income stream and she doesn’t.”
“Mark, I’ve been very nice about this. Maybe we should take this one to a Judge.”
“Whatever you say. I’ll try to counter it at a Monday morning motion hour.”
“What’s that?�
��
“Quick motions are argued before a Judge on Monday mornings. The Judge gives snappy decisions, but if the subject lingers, or isn’t clear, then actual court time is scheduled for longer arguments before the bench.” Mark waited. “Danny is that what you want?”
“Go for it,” Danny said. “Enough’s enough.”
___________
A court reporter sat at the head of the conference room table, catty-corner to Bruce, who thumped his fingers on the table. The Parity attorneys spread folders in front of them, which bordered the scattering of paperwork created by the plaintiff’s attorney. If the stack size of legal documents indicated who was ahead in the case, then the plaintiff’s attorney had the impetus to win.
As Danny took a seat after an introduction to Susan Dexter’s attorney, Mr. Ward, his mind searched for upcoming events that would jeopardize attending the Monday morning court time regarding his divorce hassle. He would like to see Mark argue for him, but it would again require rescheduling either office visits or surgeries.
The court reporter busily ran his fingers over the stenotype machine then sat motionless, waiting on Danny. So did the hard staring Mr. Ward.
“Danny,” Bruce bellowed. “Please answer the questions.”
The plaintiff’s counsel introduced Danny into the record by asking personal information, medical education and training, years and sites where he practiced. Twenty minutes later, he asked Danny the first question regarding his client, Susan Dexter. By then, questions from the sharply dressed attorney with the annoying facial tic were as welcome as a pack of preschoolers screeching in their waiting room.
“Early this year you saw a thirty-eight year old female patient named Susan Dexter. Is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
“And for the record, you have her chart?”
“Yes, right here.”
“On her first visit, what where the symptoms she reported to you?”
“She experienced weakness in her legs, the right one greater than the left. She said she had been fatigued and had experienced one episode of decreased vision.”
“What did you write first in the physical exam section of your office note?”
“She pointed to the middle of her back, describing an electric shock type sensation when she bent down or over.”
“Dr. Tilson, are you aware of the prevailing age of onset for MS and it’s predilection for the female sex?”
“Yes.”
“Please state that for the record.”
“It’s twice as common in women as men and the normal onset is between twenty and forty.”
“It states here Susan Dexter is thirty-eight years old. Is it possible she didn’t recognize her symptoms for several years, but when she most needed treatment from a doctor, and came to you for help, you failed her?”
Mr. Ward flapped shut his folder and kept going. “Is it true that treatments can modify the course of the disease?”
“Yes, but …”
“Can’t MS lead to permanent disability?”
Danny looked to Stewart and Richard, who couldn’t bail him out. After they broached Danny’s misreading of the MRI, but the correct radiologist’s report, Danny yearned for the inquisition to be over.
___________
“How long can I trust you to plug your bladder?” Danny said aloud to Dakota two days later, as the dog awarded Danny with his full attention. “I worry how long I leave you. Rachel hasn’t even called about you. Hasn’t called to talk to me, either. And I get some weird message about a ten digit number when I call her cell phone.”
Danny watched Dakota spread out on the tweed braid rug in the kitchen, walked over to him, and smoothed his fingers along his face to the base of his ears. Dakota’s tongue lunged, plastering Danny’s nose. “At least your kisses are just wet, not slobbery like some dogs,” Danny said approvingly.
He took two bottles of Riesling from the refrigerator and placed them in velvet green bags. After wrapping Christmas presents, he put them back in the original mall shopping bags, but left Rachel’s necklace. “This is staying here,” he said, putting the white satin box on the counter, near Rachel’s note, which he had read every day. The dog cocked his head, his loosely hanging ears becoming more alert.
“What the heck, Mary won’t mind. You’re coming with me.”
Dakota sprang up, bumping Danny’s legs, and ran to the door.
When Danny arrived, the motion sensor set off the driveway lights. The garage door was open with Casey’s Jeep inside. Dakota sniffed his way along the garage floor, Danny unleashed him, and they entered the kitchen.
One hundred forty-four letters of the Scrabble alternative, Bananagrams, lay on the table. Casey, Mary, Annabel, and Nancy each had their own ivory tiles methodically arranged into networks of words. They glanced over at Danny’s entrance while hearing a skirmish on the floor as Dakota bumped Mary’s elbow, sending her forearm forward into her puzzle pieces. A strong straight tail swiped Annabel, followed by paws stepping on feet under the table, and Nancy’s chair being knocked two inches from where she sat. Casey peered under the tablecloth, coming face to face with Dakota. Annabel and Nancy flung out from their chairs and crouched to the floor as the dog swung around to greet them, beating Casey in the face with his tail.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” Danny said. “This is Dakota.”
“He’s got like curly reddish hair!” Nancy exclaimed.
“When did you get a dog?” Annabel asked.
“He’s huge,” Nancy said with dismay.
“He’s not mine. He’s on loan,” Danny said, attempting to grab Dakota by the collar to make him sit, but the dog ducked deeper under the table when he realized Danny’s intent.
Casey pushed his chair out, locked his hand into the dog’s collar, and guided him out.
“Sit, Dakota,” Danny said. The Chessie sat and everyone petted him in a closed circle. Annabel tried hugging him and fell against him. He laid down in complete bliss.
“Awesome dog,” Casey said.
“Yeah, we’re becoming a twosome,” Danny said. “Mary, do you mind that I brought him?”
“How could anyone turn away those eyes?”
Like his master’s eyes, Danny thought, and wondered when Rachel would call. Danny ran out to the garage and brought back bags of presents and the wine bottles. The family had aborted their word game and everyone sat ogling over Dakota in the great room. Danny broke off a chunk of bread from a baguette on the counter, opened a bottle of wine, and bused three glasses on a tray.
“Dig into the bags everybody,” Danny said, “and open your Christmas presents.”
“Dad, did you get Dakota a present?” Nancy asked. Dakota nudged behind her noodled hairdo to lick an ear. She giggled and locked her arm around him. “Can’t he be a new member of the family?”
“Really, he doesn’t belong to me, so frolic with him while you can.”
Before going to sleep late that night, Danny checked his telephone recorder. Not one message. He put Rachel’s Christmas present on top of the mantle and went to bed.
___________
“Hope you had a nice Christmas,” Cheryl said, putting a stack of lab work results on Danny’s desk.
“It was too quiet.” Danny said. “But you look rosy. Santa must have been good to you.” Danny’s extension rang; he picked it up, and waved to Cheryl that he would attend to the charts.
“Danny, it’s Mark. Your motion’s scheduled for Monday. I can meet you in the lobby of the courthouse if you’d still like to attend.”
“I’ll be there. How long will it take?”
“It’s from eight to nine. I’ll meet you at seven fifty-five.”
“Okay,” Danny said and hung up. He called Cheryl back into his office.
“I must be in court Monday morning from eight to nine. So, I’ll be a little late for office hours.” He flipped open the first chart. “I suppose I’ll have to start hospital rounds by 6 a.m.”
�
��I’ll take care of the office,” she said.
___________
Monday morning Danny’s alarm screamed at four-thirty. He had to hit the road for the hospital by five-fifteen, but needed enough time to get ready, make coffee to open his eyes, and perform the new chore in his life … walking the dog. He grudgingly went through the motions besides taking a to-go cup out the door and sipping as he drove, breaking his long held belief of not talking on a cell phone or drinking or eating while driving. Many of the patients whose heads he had repaired had confessed doing those things prior to their accidents.
When Danny arrived, he thought Mark looked too cheerful, not sympathetic enough about his circumstances. With all the recent legal charades brought on by his now ex-wife, Danny felt inundated. He wanted some compassion and encouragement.
Mark walked briskly, charging ahead into a packed courtroom, turning to hand Danny the several page motion he had submitted. Lawyers stood and sat, some with clients, most without. Uniformed court guards lurked off to the side up front and a black-robed Judge already sat adjusting his glasses as someone placed stacks of folders on his bench. Mark tugged at Danny, parting a crowd to find a spot to sit.
Danny finally heard “Tilson vs. Tilson.” Mark started talking from where he stood, acknowledging his presence, making his way towards the front. A young man across the aisle also slinked to the aisle, Jim Dorsey, Sara’s attorney.
“Mr. Cunningham, Mr. Dorsey, it appears this divorce is finalized. I take it you both have the financial settlement and custody matters finalized without dragging it through family court?”
“Yes, your Honor,” Mark said.
“Your Honor,” Tom began, “my client expressed an interest not to hound her ex-husband for anything more than that which is fair and equitable.”
The Judge waved away his small talk. “Mr. Dorsey, spare the melodramatic. This is motion hour. Now,” he said, peering over the rim of his glasses. “Mrs. Tilson is requesting Dr. Tilson to pay her nine-thousand dollar and some cents legal bill, to date. Your doctor client has a problem with that, Mr. Cunningham?”
