by John Grisham
woman in the world.”
“I’m not surprised, now that I think about it. I thought I was doing him a favor sending him off on an adventure. It never occurred to me he would try to seduce a missionary.”
“You think he hit on her?”
“Who knows what they did in the jungle.”
“I doubt it,” Tip added on second thought. “We know Nate, but we don’t know her. It takes two.”
Josh sat on the edge of his desk, still amused, grinning at the floor. “You’re right. I’m not sure she would go for Nate. There’s a lot of baggage.”
“Did she sign the papers?”
“We didn’t get that far. I’m sure she did or he wouldn’t have left her.”
“When is he coming home?”
“As soon as he can travel.”
“Don’t be so sure. For eleven billion, I might stick around for a while.”
THIRTY-SIX
_____________
THE DOCTOR found his patient snoring in the shade of the courtyard, still sitting up in bed, mouth open, gauze removed, head fallen to one side. His friend from the river was napping on the ground nearby. He studied the IV bag and stopped the flow. He touched Nate’s forehead and felt no fever.
“Senhor O’Riley,” he said loudly as he tapped the patient’s shoulder. Jevy jumped to his feet. The doctor did not speak English.
He wanted Nate to return to his room, but when this was translated by Jevy it was not well received. Nate pleaded with Jevy and Jevy begged the doctor. Jevy had seen the other patients, the open sores, the seizures and dying men just down the hall, and he promised the doctor he would sit right there in the shade with his friend until dark. The doctor relented. He really didn’t care.
Across the courtyard was a small separate ward with thick black bars sunk in cement. Patients wandered out from time to time to gawk through the bars into the courtyard. They could not escape. A screamer appeared late in the morning, and took offense at the presence of Nate and Jevy across the way. He had brown spotted skin and red patchy hair, and looked as crazy as he was. He clasped two bars, stuck his face between them, and began yelling. His voice was shrill and echoed around the courtyard and down the halls.
“What’s he saying?” Nate asked. The lunatic’s yelling startled him, and helped clear his head.
“I can’t understand a word. He’s insane.”
“They have me in the same hospital with the crazy people?”
“Yes. Sorry. It’s a small town.”
The yelling intensified. A nurse from the safe side appeared and shouted for him to be quiet. He lashed back at her with language that made her run away. Then he refocused on Nate and Jevy. He squeezed the bars until his knuckles were white, and began hopping as he screamed.
“Poor guy,” Nate said.
The screaming turned to wailing, and after a few minutes of nonstop racket a male nurse appeared behind the man and attempted to lead him away. He didn’t want to go, and a short scuffle ensued. With witnesses, the nurse was firm but cautious. The man’s hands, however, were glued around the bars and could not be removed. The wailing turned to shrieking as the nurse tugged from behind.
Finally, the nurse gave up and disappeared. The screamer pulled down his pants and began peeing through the bars, laughing loudly as he aimed in the general direction of Nate and Jevy, who were out of range. While his hands were off the bars, the nurse suddenly attacked from the rear, grabbing him in a full nelson and dragging him away. Once he was out of sight, the yelling ceased immediately.
When the daily drama was over and the courtyard was once again quiet, Nate said, “Jevy, get me out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Get me out of here. I feel fine. The fever is gone, my strength is returning. Let’s go.”
“We can’t leave until the doctor releases you. And you have that,” he added, pointing to the IV in Nate’s left forearm.
“This is nothing,” Nate said as he quickly slid the needle from his arm and yanked the IV free. “Find me some clothes, Jevy. I’m checking out.”
“You don’t know dengue. My father had it.”
“It’s over. I can feel it.”
“No, it’s not. The fever will return, and it will be worse. Much worse.”
“I don’t believe that. Take me to a hotel, Jevy, please. I’ll be fine there. I’ll pay you to stay with me, and if the fever returns you can feed me pills. Please, Jevy.”
Jevy was standing at the foot of the bed. He glanced around as if someone might understand their English. “I don’t know,” he said, wavering. It was not such a bad idea.
“I’ll pay you two hundred dollars to get me some clothes and take me to a hotel. And I’ll pay you fifty dollars a day to guard me until I’m okay.”
“It’s not about money, Nate. I’m your friend.”
“And I’m your friend, Jevy. And friends help friends. I can’t go back to that room. You saw those poor sick people in there. They’re all rotting and dying and pissing all over themselves. It smells like human waste. The nurses don’t care. The doctors don’t check on you. The insane asylum is just over there. Please, Jevy, get me out of here. I’ll pay you good money.”
“Your money went down with the Santa Loura.”
That stopped him cold. Nate had not even thought about the Santa Loura, and his belongings—his clothes, money, passport, and briefcase with all the gadgets and papers Josh had sent. There had been few lucid moments since leaving Rachel, just a few clear intervals during which he had thought about living and dying. Never about tangible things or assets. “I can get plenty of money, Jevy. I’ll wire it in from the States. Please help me.”
Jevy knew that dengue was rarely fatal. Nate’s bout with it appeared to be under control, though the fever would surely return. No one could blame him for wanting to escape the hospital. “Okay,” he said, glancing around again. No one was near them. “I’ll return in a few minutes.”
Nate closed his eyes and contemplated his lack of a passport. And he had no cash, not a dime. No clothes, no toothbrush. No SatFone, cell phone, no calling cards. And matters weren’t much better at home. From the ruins of his personal bankruptcy, he could expect to keep his leased car, his clothing and modest furniture, and the money put away in his IRA. Nothing else. The lease on his small condo in Georgetown had been surrendered during rehab. There was no place to go when he returned. No family to speak of. His two older kids were distant and unconcerned. The two middle schoolers from the second marriage had been taken far away by their mother. He hadn’t seen them in six months, and had scarcely thought about them at Christmas.
On his fortieth birthday, Nate had won a $10 million verdict against a doctor who failed to diagnose cancer. It was the largest verdict of his career, and when the appeals were finished two years later the firm collected over $4 million in fees. Nate’s bonus that year had been $1.5 million. He was a millionaire for a few months, until he bought the new house. There were furs and diamonds, cars and trips, some shaky investments. Then he started seeing a college girl who loved cocaine, and the wall cracked. He crashed hard and spent two months locked away. His second wife left with the money, then came back briefly without it.
He’d been a millionaire, and now he imagined how he looked from the roof of the courtyard—sick, alone, broke, under indictment, afraid of the return home, and terrified of the temptations there.
His quest to find Rachel had kept him focused. There was excitement in the hunt. Now that it was over, and he was flat on his back again, he thought of Sergio and rehab and addictions and all the trouble waiting for him. Darkness was looming again.
He couldn’t spend the rest of his life riding chalanas up and down the Paraguay with Jevy and Welly, far removed from booze and drugs and women, oblivious to his legal troubles. He had to go back. He had to face the music one more time.
A piercing squawk jolted him from his daydreams. The redheaded screamer was back.
______
__
JEVY ROLLED the bed under a veranda, then down a hallway headed toward the front of the hospital. He stopped by a janitor’s closet, and helped the patient out of bed. Nate was weak and shaky, but determined to escape. Inside the closet, he ripped off the gown and put on a pair of baggy soccer shorts, a red tee shirt, the obligatory rubber sandals, a denim cap, and a pair of plastic sunshades. Though he looked the part, he did not feel the least bit Brazilian. Jevy had spent little on his outfit. He was adjusting the cap when he fainted.
Jevy heard him hit the door. He quickly opened it, and found Nate slumped in a pile with buckets and mops rattling around. He clutched him under the arms and dragged him back to the bed. He rolled him into it and covered him with the sheet.
Nate opened his eyes and said, “What happened?”
“You fainted,” came the reply. The bed was moving; Jevy was behind him. They passed two nurses who didn’t seem to notice them. “This is a bad idea,” Jevy said.
“Just keep going.”
They parked near the lobby. Nate crawled out of bed, felt faint again, and began walking. Jevy placed a heavy arm around his shoulder and steadied him by clutching his bicep. “Take it easy,” Jevy kept saying. “Nice and slow.”
No stares from the admissions clerks, nor the sick people trying to get in. No odd looks from the nurses and orderlies smoking on the front steps. The sun hit Nate hard and he leaned on Jevy. They crossed the street to where Jevy’s massive Ford was parked.
They narrowly avoided death at the first intersection. “Could you please drive slower,” Nate snapped. He was sweating and his stomach was rolling.
“Sorry,” Jevy said, and the truck slowed considerably.
With charm and the promise of future payment, Jevy cajoled a double room out of the young girl at the front desk of the Palace Hotel. “My friend is sick,” he whispered to her, nodding at Nate, who certainly appeared ill. Jevy didn’t want the pretty lady to get the wrong idea. They had no bags.
In the room, Nate collapsed on the bed. The little escape had tired him immensely. Jevy found the rerun of a soccer game on TV, but after five minutes was bored. He left to continue his flirting.
Nate tried twice to get an international operator. He had a vague recollection of hearing Josh’s voice on the phone, and he suspected that a follow-up was needed. On the second attempt, he got an earful of Portuguese. When she tried English, he thought he caught the words “calling card.” He hung up and went to sleep.
The doctor called Valdir. Valdir found Jevy’s truck parked on the street outside the Palace Hotel, and he found Jevy in the pool sipping a beer.
Valdir squatted at the edge of the pool. “Where is Mr. O’Riley?” he asked. His irritation was obvious.
“Upstairs in his room,” Jevy answered, then took another sip.
“Why is he here?”
“Because he wanted to leave the hospital. Do you blame him?”
Valdir’s only surgery had been in Campo Grande, four hours away. No one with money would ever voluntarily submit themselves to the hospital in Corumbá. “How is he?”
“I think he’s fine.”
“Stay with him.”
“I don’t work for you anymore, Mr. Valdir.”
“Yes, but there is the matter of the boat.”
“I can’t raise it. I didn’t sink it. A storm did. What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to watch Mr. O’Riley.”
“He needs money. Can you wire it in for him?”
“I suppose.”
“And he needs a passport. He lost everything.”
“Just watch him. I’ll take care of the details.”
________
THE FEVER returned quietly during the night, warming his face as he slept, taking its time as it built momentum for the havoc to come. Its calling card was a row of tiny pellets of sweat lined perfectly above the eyebrows, then sweat in the hair that rested on the pillow. It simmered while he slept, stewing, preparing to erupt. It sent tremors, little waves of chills, through his body, but he was fatigued and there were the remnants of so many chemicals that he kept sleeping. It built pressure behind his eyes, so that when he did open them he would want to scream. It drained the fluids from his mouth.
Nate finally groaned. He felt the vicious pounding of a jackhammer between his temples. When he opened his eyes, death awaited him. He was in a pool of sweat, his face on fire, his knees and elbows bending in pain. “Jevy,” he whispered. “Jevy!”
Jevy hit the switch for the table lamp between them, and Nate groaned even louder. “Turn that off!” he said. Jevy ran to the bathroom and found a less direct source of light. For the ordeal, he had purchased bottled water, ice, aspirin, over-the-counter pain medications, and a thermometer. He thought he was prepared.
An hour passed and Jevy counted every minute of it. The fever climbed to 102; the chills came in waves so violent that the small bed rattled and shook on the floor. When Nate wasn’t shaking, Jevy stuffed pills in his mouth and poured down water. He soaked his face with wet towels. Nate suffered in silence, bravely gritting his teeth so that the pain was quiet. He was determined to suffer through the fevers in the relative luxury of the small hotel room. Every time he wanted to scream, he remembered the cracked plaster and smells of the hospital.
At 4 A.M., the fever climbed to 103, and Nate began to drift away. His knees almost touched his chin. His arms were wrapped around his calves. He held himself tightly. Then a chill would hit and untangle him as his body shuddered.
The last temperature reading was 105, and Jevy knew at some point his friend would go into shock. He finally panicked, not from the temperature, but from the sight of sweat dripping from the bedsheets onto the floor. His friend had suffered enough. There were better drugs at the hospital.
He found a janitor asleep on the third floor, and together they dragged Nate to the elevator, through the empty lobby, and to his truck. He called Valdir at 6 A.M., waking him.
When Valdir finished cursing Jevy, he agreed to call the doctor.
THIRTY-SEVEN
_____________
THE TREATMENT was phoned in from the doctor’s bed. Fill the IV bag with lots of goodies, poke the needle in his arm, try to find a better room. The rooms were full, so they simply left him in the hall of the men’s ward, near a messy desk they called the nurses’ station. At least they couldn’t ignore him. Jevy was asked to leave. There was nothing he could do but wait.
At one point in the morning, during a lull in other activities, an orderly appeared with a pair of scissors. He cut off the new gym shorts and the new red tee shirt, and replaced them with another yellow gown. In the process Nate lay naked on the bed for five full minutes, in plain view of everyone passing by. No one noticed; Nate certainly didn’t care. The sheets were changed because they were soaked. The rags that had been the shorts and shirt were thrown away, and once again Nate O’Riley had no clothes.
If he shook too much or moaned too loud, the nearest doctor or nurse or orderly would gently open the IV. And when he was snoring too loud, someone would close it a little.
A cancer death created an opening. Nate was rolled into the nearest room where he was parked between a worker who’d just lost a foot and a man dying from kidney failure. The doctor saw him twice during the day. The fever wavered between 102 and 104. Valdir stopped by late in the afternoon for a chat but Nate was not awake. He reported the day’s events to Mr. Stafford, who was not pleased.
“The doctor says this is normal,” Valdir said, speaking into his cell phone in the hallway. “Mr. O’Riley will be fine.”
“Don’t let him die, Valdir,” Josh growled from America.
Money was being wired. They were working on the passport.
________
ONCE AGAIN the IV bag dripped itself empty, and no one noticed. Hours passed and the drugs gradually wore off. It was pitch dark, the middle of the night, and there was no movement from the other three beds when Nate finally shook off the co
bwebs of his coma and showed signs of life. He could barely see his roommates. The door was open and there was a faint light down the hallway. No voices, no feet shuffling by.
He touched his gown—drenched from the sweat—and realized he was again naked underneath. He rubbed his swollen eyes and tried to straighten his cramped legs. His forehead was very hot. He was thirsty and could not remember his last meal. He tried not to move for fear of waking those around him. Surely a nurse would stop by soon.
The sheets were wet, so when the chills began again there was no way to get warm. He shook and vibrated, rubbing his arms and legs, his teeth clapping together. After the chills stopped, he tried to sleep and managed a few naps as the night wore on, but when it was darkest the fever rose again. His temples pounded so hard that Nate began to cry. He wrapped the pillow around his head and squeezed as hard as he could.
In the darkness of the room, a silhouette entered and moved from bed to bed, finally stopping beside Nate’s. She watched him flounder and fight under the sheets, his low moans muffled by the pillow. She touched him gently on the arm. “Nate,” she whispered.
Under normal circumstances, he would have been startled. But hallucinating had become a common symptom. He lowered the pillow to his chest and tried to focus on the figure.
“It’s Rachel,” she whispered.
“Rachel?” he whispered, his breathing labored. He tried to sit up, then tried to open his eyes with his fingers. “Rachel?”
“I’m here, Nate. God sent me to protect you.”
He reached for her face and she took his hand. She kissed his palm. “You are not going to die, Nate,” she said. “God has plans for you.”
He could say nothing. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he could see her. “It’s you,” he said. Or was it another dream?
He reclined again, resting his head on the pillow, relaxing as his muscles unclenched themselves and his joints became loose. He closed his eyes, but still held her hand. The pounding behind his eyes faded. The heat left his forehead and face. The fever had sapped his strength, and he drifted away again, into a deep sleep induced not by chemicals but by sheer exhaustion.
He dreamed of angels—white-robed young maidens floating in the clouds above him, there to protect him, humming hymns he’d never heard but that somehow seemed familiar.
________
HE LEFT the hospital at noon the next day, armed with his doctor’s orders and accompanied by Jevy and Valdir. There was no trace of fever, no rash, just a little soreness in the joints and muscles. He insisted on leaving, and the doctor readily concurred. The doctor was happy to be rid of him.
The first stop was a restaurant where he consumed a large bowl of rice and a plate of boiled potatoes. He avoided the steaks and chops. Jevy did not. They were both still hungry from their adventure. Valdir sipped coffee, smoked his cigarettes, and watched them eat.
No one had seen Rachel come and go at the hospital. Nate had whispered the secret to Jevy, who had inquired of the nurses and maids. After lunch, Jevy left them and began roaming downtown on foot, searching for her. He went to the river where he talked to deckhands on the last cattle boat. She had not traveled with them. The fishermen hadn’t seen her. No one seemed to know anything about the arrival of a white woman from the Pantanal.
In Valdir’s office, alone, Nate dialed the number of the Stafford Law Firm, a number he had trouble remembering. They pulled Josh out of a meeting. “Talk to me, Nate,” he said. “How are you?”
“The fever is gone,” he said, rocking in Valdir’s easy chair. “I feel fine. A little sore and tired, but I feel good.”
“You sound great. I want you home.”
“Give me a couple of days.”
“I’m sending a jet down, Nate. It will leave tonight.”
“No. Don’t do that, Josh. That’s not a good idea. I’ll get there whenever I want.”
“Okay. Tell me about the woman, Nate.”
“We found her. She is the illegitimate daughter of Troy Phelan, and she has no interest in the money.”
“So how did you talk her into taking it?”
“Josh, you don’t talk this woman into anything. I tried, got nowhere, so I stopped.”
“Come on, Nate. Nobody walks away from this kind of money. Surely you talked
