The Patient from Silvertree
Book One in the Silvertree Series
Marian Dribus
Copyright © 2020 Marian Dribus
All rights reserved.
For permissions, contact [email protected]
Website: www.mariandribus.com
ISBN: 978-1-7349545-0-0 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-7349545-1-7 (ebook)
Author photo by Stephanie Dribus
Cover design by Lena Yang
For Steph, my first audience
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Dear Reader
About Me
Chapter 1
Lisa wasn’t the sort of girl who usually avoided her father, but when she heard him trudging downstairs to answer the doorbell, she felt an overwhelming urge to disappear. She looked from the pitcher of water in her hands to the vase of flowers on the piano. They were starting to wilt, but they would have to wait. There was no time. With an apologetic glance at her grandmother, who was sitting on the mantelpiece in an urn, she disposed of the pitcher and crawled behind the couch.
It was fortunate that Lisa wasn’t a large person. The space was narrow, and it hadn’t been cleaned recently. Lisa pushed her blond hair out of her eyes and tried not to sneeze as the dusty air filled her nose. At sixteen, she was too old to be in such a predicament, but revealing herself was out of the question. With a touch of bitterness, she wondered how things had gotten so complicated. A gust of cold air swirled into the room, accompanied by a hint of perfume.
“Sabrina,” said Lisa’s father. “Please come in.”
“Andrew, it’s nice to see you again,” said a woman’s voice. She sounded breathless, but Lisa couldn’t tell whether she was anxious or excited. Neither possibility was reassuring. “I didn’t realize it would take me so long to get here. I’ve been on the road for more than four hours.”
“Do you want something to drink?” said Lisa’s father.
“No, I just want to get this over with,” she said. “I hope you can figure out this mess. My doctor was completely worthless. He said the word ‘cancer’ and—well, I must have zoned out because I don’t remember anything else he said. I didn’t even wait for him to finish. I just got up and walked out. I’ve been in a daze ever since. I keep telling myself it’s not real. It’s impossible, isn’t it? I gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby six months ago.”
“Sabrina, calm down,” said Lisa’s father.
“No offense, but doctors make mistakes all the time,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with me. I feel fine—or at least as fine as I could be expected to feel after having a baby at my age. There’s only one thing that worries me.” For the first time, her voice faltered. “I have a weird-looking spot on my breast that showed up a few weeks ago. I thought it was an infection at first, but I took antibiotics, and it didn’t go away. If anything, it’s getting worse. Let me show you—wait, is your family home?”
“No,” said Lisa’s father. “Nora took the girls shopping.”
“Good,” said the woman. “If I walked into my house and found my husband fraternizing with a naked woman, my first instinct would be to murder them both.”
Lisa decided she would stay behind the couch for as long as necessary. She heard a zipper being undone, and a moment later, something soft touched her head. She looked up. The sleeve of a jacket dangled in front of her face. It was lined with artificial fur. The woman had thrown it over the back of the couch. Lisa was glad it hadn’t fallen down all the way. A sweater followed, and as Lisa watched with growing dread, a bra tumbled through the opening and landed on the floor.
Lisa was mortified. It would only be a matter of time before the woman started searching for the missing undergarment and discovered her. Lisa considered her options with a sinking heart, but she was so bewildered by the rapidity with which the woman had barged into the house and removed her clothes that she couldn’t think clearly.
“I know I should have made an appointment with your office, but I’m so sick of hospitals,” said the woman. “Can you see it well enough? It’s mostly on the side and underneath. What do you think? It doesn’t look too bad, does it?”
“Looks can be deceiving,” said Lisa’s father. “Unfortunately, I can’t definitively say what’s going on without more information. You can get dressed. Did you bring a copy of your medical records?”
“Yes,” she said. “I have them right here.”
Hoping her father and the woman were too distracted to notice, Lisa picked up the bra with shaking hands and returned it to the top of the couch. She was just in time. It disappeared, along with the sweater and the jacket. She heard the woman getting dressed, and the couch squeaked as they sat down.
Lisa tried to gather her swirling thoughts. It was a medical consultation, not an affair, but it was still mysterious. The woman’s identity was the strangest piece of the puzzle. As far as Lisa knew, her father didn’t have any friends. His career as an oncologist consumed every moment of his time, and on the rare occasions when he took a day off, he was too tired to do anything. If he had any history with the woman, it existed from the distant past.
“Did you get a biopsy done?” said Lisa’s father.
“Yes,” said the woman. “The report is in there somewhere.”
Lisa heard papers rustling. The ticking of the clock above the mantelpiece and the faint crackling of the fire seemed to grow louder. As the seconds passed, Lisa sensed she was being transported into a different world. She held her breath. Her father’s silence filled her with dread. Why was he hesitating? There could only be one reason: bad news. She had never heard him deliver a terminal diagnosis before, but when he finally spoke, the detachment in his voice convinced her the woman was going to die.
“I know this isn’t what you were hoping to hear, but you have an aggressive type of breast cancer,” he said. “It’s already metastasized to your liver and spine. The treatment involves a combination of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, but the prognosis is poor.”
Lisa felt like she couldn’t breathe.
“How long do I have?” said the woman.
“It’s better not to think about it in those terms,” he said. “You’ll drive yourself crazy. Just enjoy each moment as it comes and focus on spending quality time with your family.”
“Andrew, we’ve always been honest with each other,” she said. “Just tell me. Please.”
“You have less than five years,” he said.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
Lisa’s father sighed.
“I can repeat the tests, if that would help you feel more confident about the diagnosis,” he said. “Denying the truth isn’t going to make it go away. If you want to stay here in Silvertree for treatment, the hospital where I work has the best cancer center in the region. I can write the orders and have you admitted today.”
“Andrew, stop,” she said. “This can’t be happening. I’m not ready. I have
a husband and four children who need me. There must be something you can do. You deal with this sort of thing all the time. It’s not so bad. It hasn’t slowed me down.”
“Sabrina, it’s not that simple,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sorry, Andrew,” she said. “Tell me you can help. Considering the number of credentials you’ve got after your name, you ought to be able to offer me some hope. Seriously, what good are you if you can’t even do that?”
“It’s perfectly natural for you to feel angry,” he said. “I don’t blame you. I’d probably feel the same way.”
“Oh, don’t be so condescending,” she said. “I bet you get a sense of satisfaction every time one of your patients lashes out at you. It’s all part of the process, isn’t it? You don’t even have to defend yourself. You just have to wait for the final outcome. Admit it, Andrew: you’ve got a morbid fascination for human suffering. Look at your face. You don’t even care.”
“Sabrina, I’m not happy about this,” he said. “If I seem indifferent, it’s because I’ve been in this situation so many times before.”
“No, I’m not like your other patients,” she said. “I can take anything you throw at me. You don’t have to be gentle. Just get rid of it. Do whatever you have to do. It doesn’t matter. You can get a scalpel and cut off my breast for all I care. Cut them both off. I don’t need them anymore. The baby is already on formula, and she’s doing fine. I don’t care how it will look. I can wear prosthetics for now and get implants later.”
“Does Arthur know about this?” said Lisa’s father.
“Who cares?” said the woman. “It’s my body and my decision.”
“That’s not my point, and you know it,” he said. “No surgeon is going to touch you in your current condition, so you can forget about it. You only have one option right now, and that’s chemotherapy. I asked you about Arthur because you’re going to need his help. You’re spiraling out of control right now, and the sooner you get him on board, the easier it will be for both of you. Why don’t you call him and tell him what’s going on?”
“Forget it,” she said. “I’m not an invalid. I’ve always been independent. Arthur’s not even home right now. He took the boys on a camping trip. I’ll tell him when he gets back, but I don’t know how. I hate hurting him. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could give him some sort of hope.”
“There’s always hope,” said Lisa’s father. “It won’t be easy, but it’s not the end. Not yet. It’s just a different kind of life.”
“Life before death,” she said.
“It’s something we’ll all face eventually,” he said.
“Yes, I know,” she said. “Thank you for reminding me. You’re right. I can’t avoid it, but I’m not going to spend my last days in the hospital, hooked up to machines. That’s not how I want my children to remember me. Josh and Shannon are old enough to deal with it maybe—they’ll be going off to college next year—but Stephen is only thirteen. He’s fragile. No, if I have to fight this battle, I’m going to do it on my own terms.”
“What do you mean?” said Lisa’s father.
“Maybe there’s something else we can try,” she said. “Do you remember Peterson?”
Lisa felt a shiver run down her back. The name was unfamiliar to her, but something about it filled her with dread. Curiosity got the better of her, and she peered out from behind the couch, being careful not to draw attention to herself.
Her father had gotten up and was standing in front of the mantelpiece, quite close to the urn. He fidgeted with his necktie as if it were strangling him. Lisa could see his face, although it was partially turned away from her, and she watched in fascination as the color drained away. Talking about mortality didn’t scare him, but talking about Peterson did. Lisa wasn’t sure what this implied about Peterson, but she suspected the worst.
The woman got up and sidled over to him. She was slender to the point of being frail, but there was something tenacious about her, and Lisa’s father stepped back. His retreat placed the urn between them. The woman rested her elbow on the mantelpiece. The red glow from the fire illuminated their faces.
“You know where I’m going with this,” she said.
“Yes, I do,” said Lisa’s father. “You’re crazy, Sabrina.”
“I’m not crazy,” she said. “I’m desperate. There’s a difference. Peterson was brilliant. Why shouldn’t we benefit from that? It’s a crime to bury the good with the evil. The stigma surrounding him is nothing more than a gut reaction to the things he did. Well, that’s nice, but emotions are for people who have time to waste. If there’s a chance for me to be cured, I have to try. I want you to make some of the drug Peterson invented and give it to me.”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “It wasn’t approved for human trials, and the experiments Peterson did don’t count. People died, Sabrina. Lots of people. At least a dozen. I don’t remember all the details, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too dangerous. I would lose my medical license and go to prison. Besides, it would be totally unethical for me to—”
“Oh, like you haven’t broken the rules before?” she said, wrapping her fingers around the urn and squeezing it so tightly that her hand shook. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t say no to me. I know what you did, and if you don’t cooperate with me, I’ll tell your wife everything. I’ll tell Nora you euthanized her mother.”
Lisa couldn’t believe her ears. It wasn’t true. Her grandmother had died from a heart attack. Her father had expressed regret about his inability to save her, but that was all. How could the woman even suggest such a thing? She felt her face burning with indignation and waited for her father to deny the accusation, but he didn’t.
“I couldn’t leave her like that,” he said. “It wouldn’t have been right. She was such a feisty little thing—bright and cheerful and funny. She was like the mother I never had. I was there when they took her off the ventilator. I hoped she would die right away, but she didn’t. The next time I saw her, she was flailing around in a pile of her own excrement with no conscious control over her body. It was hideous. There was nothing left—nothing that made her who she was. I knew she wouldn’t want to live that way.”
“So you took matters into your own hands,” said the woman. “Come on, Andrew. It’s been more than a month. Pull yourself together and stop being so pathetic. I’m sure you did the right thing. You don’t have to punish yourself for it—speaking of which, this whole house feels like a tomb. I noticed the flowers. They’re starting to rot.”
“Nora won’t throw them away,” he said. “She’s completely devastated. So are the girls. It breaks my heart to see how much I’ve hurt them, but I don’t know how to fix things. It’s getting so bad that I don’t even want to be around them anymore. I’ve been avoiding them ever since it happened, and I can’t afford to do anything else that might jeopardize my relationship with them.”
“Then help me,” she said. “Richard will tell you exactly what to do. I haven’t seen him for more than twenty years, but I’m sure he’s still alive. He’s too ornery to disappear without making a fuss. He knows I’m his ticket back into the family, and when he sees what he’s missing, he’ll do whatever he can to save me.”
Lisa’s father shrugged.
“Fine,” he said in the saddest voice Lisa had ever heard him use. “If that’s the price for your silence, I’ll pay it, but this isn’t going to have a happy ending. I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and I’ve never seen a miracle. You’re not going to be the exception. There’s no such thing as cheating death. I don’t know how familiar you are with the details of Peterson’s experiment, but if you’re not okay with drowning in your own blood, you might want to reconsider.”
She removed her hand from the urn.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “You’re a good friend, Andrew, and I’m sorry for getting you mixed up in this nasty business, but it’s not my fault. I’m just trying to survive. It’s a mo
ther’s duty to be there for her children. We’ll be in touch.”
She left without another word. Lisa’s father remained where he was, staring at the floor with sightless eyes that glistened with tears. Lisa wanted to comfort him, but she was too horrified to approach him. She realized she would never be able to look at him the same way again. Everything was different now. He finally stumbled upstairs, clutching the bannister as if he feared losing his balance. It was another ten minutes before Lisa dared to move.
She straightened up slowly, but the tension in her body remained. So it was true. Her father was a murderer. How far would he go to conceal what he had done? No wonder he didn’t like it when she watered the flowers. They reminded him of her grandmother. She picked up the pitcher, but it slipped out of her hands and fell on the floor with a resounding crash. She didn’t bother to clean up the mess she had made. Her only thought was to get away from her father. Stepping over the shards of broken glass, she ran out of the house.
∞∞∞
Lisa didn’t stop running until she crossed the road and found herself on the beach. The sand stretched for miles in either direction, and the waves rushed toward her, glittering in the bright afternoon sun. Lisa turned around and gazed at the house. Darkness lurked behind its white walls. She crossed her arms to keep out the chill and headed down the beach. She needed to see Molly. Molly was the only person in the world who could make her feel better.
Lisa couldn’t remember a time in her life when Molly hadn’t been there. Her earliest recollections involved lazy summer evenings spent in the sprawling garden behind Molly’s house reading stories from an enormous book of fairy tales. Molly’s vague grasp on reality was comforting, and Lisa trusted her implicitly, even though she knew Molly was delusional. She had once heard her father remark that Molly spent too much time talking to plants and not enough time talking to people, but Lisa didn’t care.
The Patient from Silvertree: Book One in the Silvertree Series Page 1
