“STRANGER SIGHTED!" Flower yelled from atop the carousel horse at the front of the Apothecary, where Fatima had placed her as lookout.
“What’s he look like?” Fatima asked as she stepped out from behind the counter.
“Large, fat man in a dark blue suit, who looks none too happy to be here,” Flower replied.
“Okay, places everyone. Remember, it’s just a typical Monday afternoon so act natural.” Fatima removed the apron she’d been wearing to protect her flowered dress. It was time for her to change roles.
As the stranger entered, Fatima stepped forward with a gracious smile. “Good day. Welcome to the Apothecary. Would you like a table or would you prefer sitting at the counter?”
“Neither,” the man replied gruffly. “I’m not here to eat. I’m Dr. Alexander Bastion from the State Board of Medical Examiners. There’s been a complaint filed of illegal activity taking place at this address. I’m here to investigate.”
“Oh, really,” Fatima said with a startled look on her face that she’d been practicing for days. “There must be some mistake. Perhaps you’re referring to Dr. Harold Harper’s medical practice. As his part-time receptionist and assistant, I can assure you everything is completely above board and legal. We are all so pleased to have him decide to locate his practice in our fair town.” She turned to the other patrons, many of whom were turned in their chairs, listening for their cue.
“Oh, yes, most certainly.”
“He’s a real gem.”
“What a wonderful doctor he is.”
Dr. Bastion looked first at Fatima and then at the patrons with a suspicious stare. “Really? Well, is Dr...?” He stopped suddenly and sneezed three times, each one more violent than the one before. He took out a handkerchief and blew his red nose. “Damn these allergies. How in the world can anyone stand to live in these god-forsaken mountains?”
Fatima opened her mouth to comment on his condition, but then remembered she was not the practitioner today.
“As I was saying, is Dr. Harper around?”
"Yes sir," Fatima replied. "He's in the back seeing patients. Would you like me to show you the way? He shouldn't be too long."
“Please,” Dr. Bastion said. He wiped his runny eyes with a corner of the handkerchief before returning it to his pocket. “The sooner I can get to the bottom of this, the sooner I can get away from all this nasty pollen.”
Fatima waved him forward in front of her. As the two of them walked to the back, she signaled to Cyndy standing at the rear of the restaurant, who quickly disappeared into the back to give everyone there a heads up. As Dr. Bastion entered the short hallway, Fatima said, “His waiting room is the second door to the right. No need to knock.”
Dr. Bastion nodded. As he entered the room, Mr. Whimpleman looked up from the magazine he’d been pretending to read. Seconds later, a second door on the other side of the room opened, and out stepped Mrs. Primcastle. “Oh, Dr. Harper, you’re just the best.” She turned to Mr. Whimpleman. “Isn’t he just the best? I’m already feeling better. Oh, hello, who are you?” she said, directing the question to Dr. Bastion.
“This is Dr. Bastion,” Fatima replied. “He’s here to see our Dr. Harper. Seems there’s been a clerical error back in Raleigh. He’s here to sort it out.”
Dr. Bastion sniffled, taking out this handkerchief again. “Clerical error? Well, maybe. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Mr. Whimpleman, would you mind if Dr. Bastion sees Dr. Harper first?”
“No, no, not at all. It’ll give me time to finish this article I’m reading. Go right ahead.”
“Right this way then,” Fatima said, as she escorted the doctor into the exam room. As they entered, she noticed Dr. Bastion looking at the diploma and medical license that had been taken from Dr. Harper’s real office a couple days ago. He studied them for a moment before turning to Fatima. “Duke graduate, huh? Impressive, though I can’t imagine why someone from Duke would come to such a podunk town as this.”
Fatima felt her hackles rise from the comment, but suppressed her mounting anger. “Well, we’re certainly glad he did.”
She was about to make another comment when, once again, Bastion sneezed repeatedly. Poor man, he really is suffering, she thought. No wonder he hates this area so much. “Have a seat there, if you will,” she said. “Dr. Harper will be right with you. In the meantime, if I may.” She reached out with both hands and gently placed them on the doctor’s temples and rubbed gently. “Just close your eyes,” she instructed, with the soft voice she normally used only with her patients. “This will help relieve some of the pressure in your sinuses.” She continued this for a minute or two, slowly moving to rub under his eyes and along the side of his nose. “How does it feel now?” she asked.
“Surprisingly better,” Dr. Bastion replied, without opening his eyes.
“Just sit there for a minute.” She walked over to the counter and pulled something out of one of the drawers. She returned to the doctor and placed a small bag around his neck. “These herbs will help your allergy.”
Bastion opened his eyes, the look of suspicion once more on his face. “Really?” he asked. “How do you know that?”
Fatima felt her heart skip. Damn! What did I just do? “I’ve seen Dr. Harper prescribe them to several of his patients. They’re harmless, I can assure you. Just give it a try.”
Dr. Bastion was about to reply, when the door opened and in stepped Dr. Harper.
“And what do we have here, Fatima? A new patient?” Dr. Harper extended his hand. The two doctors shook hands.
“No, Doctor, this is a colleague of yours, Dr. Alexander Bastion. He’s from the Board of Medical Examiners.”
“Really? To what do I owe this honor, Dr. Bastion?” Fatima noticed his eyes flitted to the herbal bag around Bastion’s neck and back to her. She shook her head and prayed he wouldn’t draw any more attention to it.
“It seems my office may have made a clerical error. I was told we’d received a complaint that there was an illegal, unlicensed practitioner at this location.”
“Well, as you can see,” Harper pointed to the license on the wall, “I’m fully licensed to practice medicine in this state.”
“Yes, I see. As I said, it may have been a clerical error. I’ll check with my office.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve another complaint to check out in the Boone area, but it’s too late in the day to go that far. Where would you recommend I stay overnight?”
“There’s a nice bed and breakfast on the edge of town called the Charm House,” Fatima replied.
“That will suffice. I’ll return in the morning before I head to Boone.” He nodded to Harper before turning to Fatima. He reached up to take the bag from around his neck. “Thank you for this Miss, but I’m a man of science...”
“That’s okay,” Fatima replied, smiling. “I won’t hold it against you.” She placed her hand on his hand holding the bag. “Leave it on overnight.”
Dr. Bastion smiled for the first time. "Well, if you insist. I'll see you in the morning."
After Dr. Bastion left, Fatima and Harper stared at each other. Fatima let out a long sigh. Harper smiled. “So far, so good,” he said.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Fatima countered.
“What was that thing hanging around his neck?”
“Don’t ask,” Fatima replied. “I’ll see you in the morning for Act Two.”
THE NEXT MORNING, THE cast members of the Foster Flat Players were once more in position. Everyone had been rotated to new seats and roles, just in case Dr. Bastion’s powers of observation were more acute than they appeared, except for Flower, who once again served as the lookout.
“Here he comes again,” Flower shouted. “Hey, look at that. He’s smiling.”
“Well, that’s a good sign,” Mrs. Primcastle said from her place at one of the front tables.
“Maybe,” Fatima replied. “Or maybe he discovered our ruse and takes pleasure in closing down il
legal operations. Whatever it is, we’ll find out in just a minute. Break a leg everyone.”
“Good morning, Ms. Flat. It appears your establishment is the most popular place in town,” Dr. Bastion said, as he gazed around at the nearly full restaurant.
“Yes, we’re quite fortunate in that regard,” Fatima replied. “How are you feeling this morning, Dr. Bastion?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” Dr. Bastion replied, “to borrow a quaint phrase from you mountain folk. I must confess, I wasn’t looking forward to spending the night here. I figured my allergies would keep me awake all night long, but I slept like a baby.”
“That’s good to hear,” Fatima said. “Would you care for some breakfast this morning, on the house?”
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. Breakfast was included with my accommodations. That Mr. Haverstock was a gracious host, I must say. I understand now why he named his establishment the Charm House. No breakfast for me, but I do need to speak to Dr. Harper. I talked with my office this morning, and there appears to be some discrepancy that needs to be addressed."
“Oh, and what’s that?” Fatima asked, trying to sound calm, while her insides began to churn.
“I’d like to discuss it with Dr. Harper, if you don’t mind,” Dr. Bastion said. “You’re welcome to stay and join in the conversation.”
Fatima nodded. What did he find out from his home office? Had he uncovered other complaints that had been filed against her that she wasn’t aware of? “Right this way. I don’t believe he’s started seeing patients yet.”
The two of them wove their way through the rows of tables and back to the waiting room, where they found Dr. Harper organizing the magazines.
“Good morning, Fatima. Oh, good morning, Dr. Bastion. You’re up bright and early this morning.”
"Yes, I need to get to Boone, but before I go, there appears to be an error in your file."
“My file?” Dr. Harper asked noncommittally.
“Yes, according to our records, your medical practice is actually located at the corner of Fifth Street and Justice, but this address is Main and Third. That would put your practice several blocks from here.” Dr. Bastion was no longer smiling.
Dr. Harper shot a quick glance to Fatima and then back to Bastion. Think of something to say, Fatima thought, but nothing came to mind. She waited and prayed.
After a long pause that felt like it would drag on into the next day, the silence was finally broken by Harper’s laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Dr. Bastion asked sternly.
“Oh, nothing, I guess,” Harper replied. “Clearly you’ve caught me.”
Oh, God, no. He's not going to confess, is he? We were so close, Fatima thought. Say something—anything!
“It’s my fault,” she blurted out.
“Really? Your fault? Dr. Bastion turned to her, but before she could reply, Harper interrupted.
“No, really, it’s on me. You see,” he threw a warning look at Fatima, “I’m the one that failed to notify the Board of my change of address.”
“Your change of address?” Fatima and Dr. Bastion said at the same time.
"Yes, you remember, Fatima. When I found out how much the rent was at Dr. Plimpton’s old office, you were kind enough to offer this space, at least until I could get on my feet. I meant to call the Board to let them know, but in the rush of the move and all, well, I forgot."
"Really?" Dr. Bastion asked. He stared first at Dr. Harper, then to Fatima. Once again, time stood still. Then, he smiled. "Well, that explains everything. I'll simply notify the office of the change of address, and we can call the matter closed."
Fatima and Harper both let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry to make you come all this way due to my absent-mindedness,” Harper said.
“Oh, that’s okay. Like I said, I have another matter in Boone, so I had to make the trip anyway. Besides, if I hadn’t come here, I might never have discovered a treatment for my allergies.”
Harper looked at the other doctor with a confused look on his face.
“I took the liberty of offering him one of your home remedies,” Fatima explained. “I’m so glad it worked.”
“It did indeed,” Dr. Bastion said. “It did indeed. Well, I need to get on the road.” He turned to leave, but then stopped. “You know, you two should think about going into business together. You’d make quite a team.”
“What?” Harper and Fatima said together.
"Look, I wasn't born yesterday," Dr. Bastion continued. "I suspect this little sack isn't Dr. Harper's treatment, but your own. It's my view that there's a place for alternative or complementary forms of treatment as long as the practitioner stays within the laws of the state in which they practice. Like I said, your two approaches complement each other. The folks of Foster Flat could really benefit from such a collaboration. Just something to think about. Now, I'll get out of your hair." With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Fatima and Harper staring at each other in amazement.
After he’d left, the two of them collapsed into chairs with a mixture of relief and exhaustion running over them. “We did it,” Harper finally said.
“We sure did,” Fatima replied. “I thought for sure you were going to confess.”
“Yes, and I thought you might, as well.”
The two of them sat in silence for a couple more minutes. Finally, Harper spoke up.
“Well, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“About his idea that we team up together.”
Fatima stared at him. “Are you serious?”
“Sure, why not?” Harper replied. “After all, it’s the townsfolk that would benefit the most. It’s like Bastion said, our different approaches to healing don’t have to compete against each other. They can be complementary.”
Fatima slowly nodded. "That's true. My great-grandfather used to say, ‘You can't fix everything broken around a home with the same tool.'"
“Exactly,” Harper said. He leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. “That brings me to another subject I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“Flower’s ankle,” Harper said.
“What about it?”
“Well, have you ever had an experienced orthopedist examine her?”
"No, not really," Fatima replied. "Dr. Plimpton checked her once or twice, but it was beyond him. He suggested I take her to Duke, but he didn't offer much hope for it. Why do you ask?"
“It just so happens my father is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the world. He can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but I feel certain he could help her. I’d be happy to set up an appointment for her.”
As Fatima sat staring at him, she felt a seed of hope start to germinate in her heart. “I don’t know what to say,” she started. “That’s awful kind of you, but honestly, I don’t know how I’d ever be able to pay for your father’s services.
“Well, let me worry about that. I’m sure I can persuade him to give you the ol’ Harper family discount, and we’ll work it out from there. I noticed earlier today that you have a couple rooms out back that don’t appear to be used for anything but storage. Maybe we take Dr. Bastion’s advice and move my offices here for real.”
Fatima thought about his offer for another moment. “That could work. I’ve been meaning to clean that junk out anyway. As for having your father see Flower, I’d want to talk to her about it first.”
“Fine,” Harper said, as he stood up. “Let’s go talk to her.” He offered her his hand.
“What? Now?”
“Sure, why not? Besides, we need to let everyone, including Flower, know that this was the last performance of the Foster Flat Players for the foreseeable future.”
GIFT RETURNED
The chilling wind blew the scrap of paper against the frozen curb and just out of Jesse's grasp for the third time. His slick-bottomed tennis shoes slid across the icy surface of the street, threatening to set h
im hard on his behind. At the last second, he caught his balance and, in another moment, grabbed the blue crumpled paper in his painfully cold hands.
His hands were so cold that they ached and were stiff. Slowly, he managed to straighten the paper out and stared down at the scrawl. He hadn't dared to hope that the paper would be what it appeared, but as he read across the lines, his heart skipped several beats. It was a check, a signed check, made out in the amount of four hundred dollars. More money than he, in his short life, could ever remember seeing even cumulatively. The check was made out to Emily Lawson. Not a blank check, Jesse thought, but still, there must be some way to cash it. He flipped the check over and was amazed to find that the check had been signed neatly on the back by none other than Emily Lawson.
Hell fire, it'd be a snap to cash, wouldn't it? Jesse tried to remember what his mom had told him about checks, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember for sure whether the check was good. It was signed, both on the front and back. It was dated December 25, 1990. All the lines were filled out except the one on the lower left, but that didn't have to be filled out, did it? Jesse didn't think so. Well, his mom would know if the check was any good, and if it was, she'd pass easy enough for Emily Lawson. That could just as easy be a black name as a white one.
And boy, will this make Mom happy. It was gonna be a bodacious Christmas after all. Not only would they have a place to stay this year, but there'd be presents for all three kids and plenty to eat as well. How far would four hundred dollars go? Jesse wondered. Ought to go pretty far. Hadn't his mom just bought a whole house from the City for twelve hundred? Of course, the house was a might worse for wear, but it was the first home he and the rest of his family had ever owned. With four hundred dollars, they could do plenty to make it livable, couldn't they?
As Jesse thought about the old shack his mom had gone and spent their life fortune on, the four hundred dollar check shrank in size. Hell, his mom would end up spending the whole amount without blinking an eye and with no presents for any of them. Maybe I can get it cashed myself without telling anyone. Then I’ll go and spend it like it ought to be spent, not on no dumb shack.
Fantastic Fables of Foster Flat Volume Two Page 9
