Fractured Eden (5 page)

Scraggly weeds threatened to choke off the sparse grass wilting in the yard. Broken splintered remnants of bushes lined the ground along the front of the house, which was one story with dark brown wood and opaque curtains hanging inside the windows.

Aaron climbed front steps that rose between two thick columns to a bare porch that extended across the front of the house. He pressed a doorbell but didn’t hear any sound, then waited half a minute or so and knocked. Sweat streaked down beside his eyes.

“Go away,” a voice said after his second knock. “We don’t want anything.”

“Ms. Taggett, I met you in the diner. I’m Aaron Rovsing, the new doctor in town. I just stopped by to say hello.” He dabbed his face with a handkerchief.

Aaron heard a creak and a slit opening appeared in the door. He could make out part of a face in the opening. “You shouldn’t have come. We don’t want visitors,” the face said.

I smell something from in there, like urine,
he thought
.
“I’m available if you or your husband or son needs medical help.”

“We don’t need any help,” she said and slammed the door.

Aaron backed away from the door and retreated down the front steps.

It sounded like her, and the face is the same face I met in the diner.

He heard running footsteps, trotted over to the corner of the house, and peered around the side. No one was in sight. From behind the house, a group of blackbirds beat their wings and scattered into the tall trees that hovered over the back yard. He crept about halfway along the side of the house and stopped as he heard a door creak open at the back and then a voice from inside the house.

“Have you been camping out all this time?” a woman said. Aaron couldn’t make out the response. “You need to check in with me more often . . . Have you been to work? I want to know where you go . . . Remember, I always take care of you. Don’t walk away from me.” Her voice became inaudible.

She must be talking with her son, the cemetery worker,
Aaron thought as he hurried back to his car.
Why is she refusing to let me examine her husband?

Aaron drove to the happy hour bar that he’d discovered several days before.

Good,
he thought as he saw an empty bar chair next to Red.

“Have a seat,” Red said, swirling his brandy.

“Cabernet, right?” the bartender said.

Aaron nodded. “Good memory.”

“How do you like Texas so far?” Red said.

“It’s a change.”

“I’m sure this place is a bit different from the big cities you came from.”

“Well, for one thing, I’ve never before lived right next to a ranch.”

“Ah, there’s nothing like the scents and sounds of a ranch.”

Aaron laughed. “You’re right about that, but I rather like it.”

“Have you traveled around much in Texas?”

“Not really.”

“There’s a place you should see. Terlingua.”

“I’ve heard of it. It’s south of here, right?”

“Near the border with Mexico.”

“That’s a long drive.”

“It feels like a different world down there. You can isolate yourself if you want. There are long stretches of empty wilderness.”

“Why have I heard of Terlingua?”

“Interesting folks live around there, and you can find some unique Texas art.”

Aaron cocked his head. “Maybe creative people go there for the solitude.”

“Yep. Some people are there to escape from their old life. Like when I was in the Caribbean some years ago. A few folks on the islands had no interest in what was going on in the rest of the world. They were there to drop out and start a new life. You can do that around Terlingua.”

“I’ll add it to my bucket list of places to see.”

Red smiled as he talked about other sights and experiences in Texas.

“It sounds like there are plenty of places in Texas where you can drop out from the world and start over,” Aaron said.

Red turned to him. “That’s probably why we’re both here.”

His eyes. There’s sadness in those eyes
.

                                         
Chapter 6

Aaron clapped his hands. “Okay, Stella. It’s time.”

He watched Juliana drive away to run a few errands.

Stella looked up from the registration desk. “Time for what?”

“Let’s go to a restaurant for lunch. My ‘Thank Goodness It’s Friday’ treat. I’d like to test your black-white theory.”

“Good idea. I know just the place to go.”

Stella stepped into Aaron’s car and directed him to a steak restaurant not far away.

“You check us in at the podium,” Stella said before they left the car. “I’ll join you when they’re ready to seat us.”

Aaron checked in for two with the greeter, who made a mark on a seating chart and picked up two menus just as Stella walked up.

“She’s with you, sir?”

“Yes,” Aaron said.

Looking back down at the seating chart, he erased his first mark and chose another booth instead.

Aaron’s eyes widened as he looked at Stella.

“Honey, it’s all right,” Stella said.

They were led to a booth at a far corner in the back of the seating area.

“I’m amazed,” Aaron said after the greeter walked away.

“That’s the way it is.”

“Is it just this part of the country?”

“No, it happens in many other places, too.”

Aaron frowned and scratched the side of his head.

Stella touched his arm. “I don’t worry about it, and neither should you. Things will change for the better as time goes by.”

They studied the menu. “I know it’s a steak place, but the grilled chicken is always tasty here, too,” Stella said.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll have the chicken with sautéed broccoli.”

“I will, too.” Stella put down her menu. “Did you see Wanda yesterday?” Stella said.

“I did for a second, through a small opening in her front door. She wouldn’t let me in.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“When she opened the door, the inside smelled like a dirty hospital ward.”

Stella shook her head. “That’s been a nasty situation and probably still is.”

After their meals were served, Aaron glanced up at Stella. “You seem down, like you’ve had a bad day.”

“It’s been a tough week. My husband is in a nursing home. The nurses complained to me several times this week about him.”

“Why is he in a nursing home?”

“He’s got dementia, and sometimes he’s mean to the nurses.”

“Dementia. How old is he?”

“Fifty. He was diagnosed with neurosyphilis a few years ago.”

Aaron sat back. “Syphilis, now there’s a fascinating disease. Historically, it’s been a kind of punishment for a momentary lapse of reason.” Aaron caught his breath and turned to Stella. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

Stella chuckled and held up her hand. “It’s okay. You hit the nail on the head. My husband is living proof of what you just said. He’s a veteran. They said he got syphilis overseas as a young man after playing around with the ladies, but he wasn’t treated for it until it was too late. Now he’s confused all the time and his balance is off and he can’t feel his feet, so walking is difficult. He stumbles and falls a lot.”

Aaron remembered the story of her only son who was killed. He put down his fork. “You’ve had a really rough couple of years.”

“No rougher than anyone else. It’s my lot in life, so I deal with it.” She smiled. “At least I don’t have syphilis.”

“Count your blessings, right?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re amazing. I don’t know if I could handle all that.”

Stella’s eyes burned into his. “Faith and forgiveness.”

“I see.”

She looked down. “It’s easy for me to say those words, but I have to try to renew myself every day. I worry there are some things I can never forgive.”

Stella finished her meal and sat back in her chair. “It’s ironic. My husband’s dementia prevents him from remembering or feeling guilty about the syphilis. He doesn’t even know what happened to him.”

Back at the clinic, Aaron checked information on the next patient. Stella stopped him as he approached the room.

“This is one of our local psych patients with his mother. They’re Cajun. He’s bipolar and usually reasonable, when he takes his medicine. But be on your guard.”

A man sat on the examination table, his short hair wanting to fly away. An older woman sat in a chair at the side of the room.

“I’m Tucker Boudreaux,” the man said. “I heard we had a new doctor in town.” His gaze returned to the ceiling.

Aaron approached the woman, who stood and shook his hand. “I’m his mama.”

Aaron turned to Tucker. “I see it’s your birthday.”

Tucker extended his arms. “I’m thirty, and I’m happy about that, but it doesn’t really matter how old I am. I feel like heaven and earth open up for me, like I can do anything, at any age, any birthday. Birthday party. Party down.
Laissez les bon temps rouler.
”

“I’m sorry?” Aaron looked at his mother.

“Oh, sometimes he speaks Cajun. He said, ‘Let the good times roll.’ ”

“Okay.” Aaron turned back to Tucker. “Any problems today?”

“No, I’m good. I’m better than ever.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs.

Aaron checked his pupils and reflexes and listened to his heart and lungs. “I’m glad you’re good. You seem happy.”

Stella knocked on the door and walked into the room. She stopped beside Aaron and smiled at Tucker. “Did you tell the doctor who you are today?”

“What do you mean today? You know who I am, every day.”

“Who are you?” Stella said.

Tucker held out his hands. “I’m an angel from God.”

Aaron stepped back. “An angel—”

“I’m sent by
le Bon Dieu.
” Tucker stared at Aaron. “I know things. I can see the future.” He looked at Stella. “Everyone in this town knows about me.”

Stella nodded. “Yes, they do.”

“Just ask me anything, Doc. The answer will pop into my head. It’s a special gift.”

“Let me think on that.”

Tucker pointed a finger at Aaron. “You don’t have a dog, do you?”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “No.”

“I can tell that you need one. You need a dog.”

His mother stood up. “Doctor, tell him he has to take the lithium.”

“Listen to your mom, okay? The medicine is important for you,” Aaron said.

Tucker put his hands to his temples. “So everybody says.”

They walked out into the hall. Tucker’s mother whispered to Aaron, “He’s been almost full-blown manic for a week now. He’s not sleeping much. Sometimes it takes a while for him to come down when he’s like this. So I see that he takes the lithium, but I think sometimes he doesn’t swallow the pill on purpose.”

“You’re doing the best you can. Just let me know if I can help,” Aaron said.

“His psychiatrist is hours away, and he won’t always go with me for appointments.”

Aaron whispered to Stella as he watched Tucker’s mother hurry after her son. “They’re not into voodoo, are they? I’ve heard about voodoo over in Louisiana.”

Stella chuckled. “They might be, but they’re Cajun. Voodoo is generally connected with African-American Creoles, who are a different group from the Cajuns.”

“Isn’t voodoo mostly found not far from here, in New Orleans?”  

“That’s true these days. Voodoo started in Africa, and it migrated to Haiti and Louisiana and other places.”

“I have visions of evil spells and voodoo dolls that look like pin cushions.”

“That’s from the movies, and it’s not completely accurate. Some folks claim voodoo is a religion for the good. They worship saints and an all-powerful god and they do good works in the community, and it’s not just Creole people. Anyone can practice voodoo.”

“So voodoo might be with us now, right here in East Texas?”

“Honey, you can count on it.” 

After closing the clinic, Aaron stopped at his car door.
I wonder if Wanda is working. She wouldn’t talk to me at her house. Maybe she will at the restaurant.

He drove to Wanda’s diner and spotted her serving a customer. He waited in a corner by the check-in area.

Wanda turned and walked toward the front. She saw Aaron and stopped. “Hello, Doc. Can I seat you for dinner?”

“No, thanks. I came to your house yesterday. You told me you don’t like visitors.”

“As I said, we’re a private family. If my husband or son needs medical help, I have to take them to a hospital where tests can be done. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Sure, I understand, but just because I’m interested as a doctor, what’s wrong with your husband?”

“I don’t know. They think it’s MS or ALS or some such alphabet soup. I have to take total care of him.”

“What about your son?”

“He’s not sick like my husband. He keeps to himself. I take care of him, too.”

“Remember I’m available if you need help, and I won’t charge for the first house call.”

Wanda wagged a finger at Aaron. “Don’t you concern yourself about us. We’ll do just fine.” She whirled around and walked away.

She won’t even let me in the house.
Aaron shrugged his shoulders.
Who would say no to a free house call?

He started up the Volvo.
Maybe Wanda is just ornery, but I have a feeling there’s something else. Marley Brighton is worried about them, too.

He nodded.
I’ve got to find out more about that family
.

Aaron drove to Grant Belkin’s ranch house. He’d called ahead of time and Grant was waiting for him.

“Come on in,” a voice boomed from the front door.

Aaron stepped through the door into a vestibule with a high ceiling that led to an expansive living room, in the middle of which sat a brown couch with a small coffee table facing a fireplace. No other furniture was in the room.

“No TV,” Aaron said.

“Don’t need much.”

Aaron noticed built-in shelves and cabinets filled with books.

Grant motioned to Aaron. “While it’s still light, let me take you around the ranch.”

He led Aaron to a rear door and out to the back yard.

Aaron walked up to a fence. “You’ve got a garden.”

“My vegetables. They keep me healthy.”

“This is one serious garden.”

Grant pointed out the rows of plants. “My tomato plants.” He moved further along the garden fence. “The peas and okra are doin’ well.”

“Okra. I’ll have to try that.”

“I’ll make you some stewed okra sometime. That’s good eatin’. Good for you, too.”

They walked behind the long garden and climbed into Grant’s pickup truck.

Aaron blotted his forehead with his handkerchief. “Will I get used to this heat?”

“You’re from up north. Your blood’s too thick. It’ll thin out over time.”

Grant started the engine. “Ever been to a rodeo?”

“Never,” Aaron said.

“I’ve got some rodeo tickets for next Saturday. Want to come along?”

“Sure thing. Thanks.”

Aaron admired the orange sunset over the horizon as they bounced along the turf away from the ranch house. He lost the border fence for five minutes or so, and then he spotted a faint line of trees approaching. They slowed and stopped before a boundary fence, beyond which a tall row of pine trees extended parallel to the fence as far as Aaron could see. A haze enshrouded the tops of the trees.

Grant turned to him. “The Big Thicket.”

Aaron sat forward. “So that’s the Big Thicket. I saw it on road signs when I drove down here.”

“It’s our own rainforest, right here in East Texas, and it goes on for miles. It’s hard to walk in it because of the thick underbrush. All kinds of critters and strange plants live in there, like plants that eat bugs.”

“Is that why people talk about it?”

“That and its shady history. Folks used to hide in there: outlaws, escaped prisoners, even Civil War dodgers back in the day. Anybody up to no good. Some folks went in and never came out.”

A shiver passed over the back of Aaron’s neck as he studied the forest. An evening breeze bent the tall pine trees toward him.

After a few minutes, Grant turned the truck around and headed back to the ranch house.

Aaron turned to Grant as they walked through the house. “Do you know the Taggetts, the family that lives just across the road from here?”