Solemn Oath (22 page)

“She does?”

“Yes. I just came from there. She was happy to see me. Surely this will call off the investigator.” She stood up. “I wish I'd done it sooner. I would have had a much better summer, and I wouldn't have been stuck on that long guilty
trip…and a good, honest doctor like you wouldn't be going through this investigation now.” She paused and sighed. “There, have I groveled enough?”

Lukas chuckled, stood up and took her hand. “Thank you, Beverly. Maybe we won't have to worry about an investigation at all now.”

“There's just one thing I don't understand about all this, Dr. Bower,” she said just before she walked out the door. “Why did Bailey Little turn your name in to COBRA? Dr. George was the one who gave Dwayne the drug that caused him to have that wreck. Why are they making such a big deal out of your
not
giving a narcotic?”

“Because that's the only way Bailey can manipulate COBRA to do a witch hunt on me and the hospital.” Lukas shrugged. “COBRA can't fine the hospital for killing a patient with drugs. They can only get them for not giving the drug in the first place. Now maybe the hospital and I will both be off the hook, at least with the government. There's still a lawsuit pending.” And there was still a hospital buyout looming over them.

 

On Thursday morning Tedi Zimmerman looked up at the clock on the wall, then looked at Mr. Walters and tried to concentrate on the things he wanted them to include in their partner interviews. For an English assignment, he had everyone in the class choose a partner, and then they were going to interview each other and write a biography. It was going to be a homework assignment for tonight, but he was going to let them use class time to get started in case they had any questions. Mr. Walters didn't give a lot of homework assignments. Tedi glanced to her right across the aisle at her partner, Abby, then picked up her pencil and started to write.

She caught her breath and stared back at her friend.

Something red and shiny seeped through the long sleeve
over Abby's left forearm, forming a stain about three inches long and an inch wide.

Tedi peered more closely at it, leaning across the aisle to see it better. Sure looked like blood. She tried to catch Abby's attention by waving, but Abby was listening intently to Mr. Walters's instructions.

“Psst!” Tedi waved again.

“Yes, Tedi,” Mr. Walters said. “Did you have a question?”

Tedi froze midwave. Finally Abby looked at her. Tedi turned to look at her teacher. “Um, yes. Do we get extra credit if our reports have more pages?”

“Not this time, Tedi. This is a journalism assignment. I want exactly two handwritten pages, no more, no less. And I will deduct from your grade,” he said, pulling his glasses off for a moment to make a point, “if you manipulate space on your papers by writing extra large or extra small. We have a word count, and I want you to stick to it. Okay, class, break into teams and get to work.” He turned and looked at the clock. “It's ten-forty, so you have twenty minutes to work together and ask me any questions. After that you're on your own.” He clapped his hands. “Push your desks together and get started.”

There was a general scraping and clatter while the kids moved around to meet with their partners.

Tedi checked the clock again. Mom had changed the date for lunch with Dad, and should be here to pick Tedi up in ten or fifteen minutes. Tedi wanted to be ready to go. Thank goodness she and Abby knew each other so well.

She scooted over two feet and pointed at Abby's arm. “What happened to you?”

Abby looked up at her, then looked down at her left forearm. She quickly placed her hand over the stain. “Scratched it.”

Tedi watched her eyes behind the glasses. Abby wouldn't look at her. Something was up. “How'd you scratch it?”

Abby shrugged. “I guess on one of the bushes out on the playground.”

“I didn't see you do it, and your sleeve isn't ripped. I was with you all the time on the playground.” She reached over suddenly and slid up the sleeve before Abby could stop her. Blood had seeped through three bandages placed there. “You've got to go to the nurse. You didn't do this during recess.” She narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “What's going on?”

Abby's thin lips tightened. “Shh!” She glanced toward Mr. Walters, who was grading papers up at his desk. All the other kids were making so much noise doing their interviews that the teacher didn't notice Abby and Tedi arguing.

“But it's still bleeding,” Tedi said. “Don't you know you can get an infection if you don't take care of this? Why don't we ask Mr. Walters if I can go with you to the nurse's office.” She turned and raised her hand to get the teacher's attention.

Abby jerked it down. “Shut up!” Her fingers pressed hard into the flesh of Tedi's arm. “I don't want to go to the nurse.”

“That's stupid, unless it's fake blood or something.” She pulled away from Abby's tight grip and examined the bandages closer. “It's not fake, is it?”

“No! Just leave me alone. I'll show my parents tonight, and they'll take care of it.”

Tedi kept watching her. Abby kept her gaze focused downward on her notes.

“You
want
your parents to see this,” Tedi whispered.

Abby's face flushed. She jerked the sleeve of her blouse back down over the blood and turned away from Tedi.

Tedi leaned forward and hissed into Abby's ear, “You did this on purpose!” Her voice got louder. “You did it to yourself!”

With a sudden movement, Abby swung back around and
shoved Tedi away. “I said shut up! You promised you wouldn't tell, remember? You promised.”

“Girls,” came Mr. Walters's voice from the front of the room. He moved his glasses down on his nose. “Is there a problem back there?”

Tedi started to speak, but Abby kicked her in the ankle. “Ow!”

“No, Mr. Walters,” Abby said, smiling up at him as if everything were fine. “We're just really getting into this interview.”

He watched them a moment longer. He didn't look convinced. Finally he said, “Tedi, it's time for your mother to come and pick you up. You can wait in the office.”

Tedi closed her notebook and scooted her desk back into place. She didn't look at Abby again. What was she supposed to do? She'd promised not to tell.

 

“Are you ready to take your baby home?” Mercy wrote her orders onto a sheet attached to Melinda Mason's clipboard, then smiled at the new mother, who sat up in bed holding her sleepy newborn, Christopher.

The pretty young woman, with freshly scrubbed face and shampooed soft brown hair, smiled into the camcorder held by her eager husband across the room. “I'd love it, Dr. Mercy. I can't wait to take my turn with that camcorder. Jeremy has promised to change baby diapers for a week, haven't you, Jeremy?”

The tall, bony young man with a bandage over his right eyebrow lowered his toy for a moment. “Did I promise, exactly?”

“Yes, and your mother heard you, too. That's better than any recorded tape. I want to catch your expression on film when you get your first big dirty one. Dr. Mercy, he's really a good husband. He just likes his gadgets.”

“That's okay, as long as I get to see a tape of him
changing Christopher.” Mercy shook hands with the happy couple, wished them well and walked out of the room.

Her smile died as she walked down the hallway and stepped into the stairwell to the first floor. Jeremy and Melinda were so young, so eager, so inexperienced. And in contrast Mercy felt so old. Thirty-nine wasn't old. Intellectually, she knew that. But lately when she looked in the mirror she saw the lines around her eyes, the fine streaks of white hair mingled with the dark, and she wondered where her youth and eagerness had gone.

Just before lunch, Mercy stopped at the lab to check on test reports for her patients. She had six today. One was for an FSH—follicle stimulating hormone—test for a fifty-one-year-old patient, Sharon Hawkins. It confirmed that Sharon was in menopause.

Mercy made the call from a private phone in the lab to break it to Sharon.

“All right!” Sharon exclaimed when she heard the news. “I've been hoping for this for months!”

Mercy shook her head as she thumbed through the other printouts. “Congratulations,” she said dryly. “I'm glad this makes you happy. I'm not in my office right now, but if you'll call over there and schedule an appointment, you and I can discuss hormone replacement therapy to help you with those hot flashes.”

“But they're not that bad, Dr. Mercy. I don't want to take the chance of getting breast cancer from the estrogen.”

“That's one of the things we'll discuss. We'll look at your family medical history and see what your health risks are. You're in great health, Sharon, and I want you to stay that way.”

“I took birth control pills in my thirties, and I had trouble with bloods clots.”

“We'll take that into consideration, too. Please make the appointment, Sharon. Estrogen isn't the only thing that can
help. We can keep a very close eye on your overall health. Are you getting enough calcium in your diet?”

“I drink a glass of milk every day.”

“That's all? Not good enough. Do you want a broken hip in a few years? You're a small-boned woman, which would put you at high risk for osteoporosis. I also want to check your cholesterol, which could skyrocket as you lose your natural estrogen.”

Sharon sighed. “You make menopause sound like some kind of disaster.”

Mercy glanced at her watch and grimaced. It was past time to leave. “It can be, but it doesn't have to. Why don't you make that appointment, and I'll explain everything to you then. There are a lot of things to consider, and I won't be able to discuss it all on the telephone.”

“Okay,” Sharon said grudgingly. “Are you going to poke me with more needles?”

“Afraid so, but Josie's the best. She'll be gentle with you. See you soon.”

As Mercy hung up she studied another sheet with FSH test results. She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back in the chair. “I guess it's time I counsel myself about therapy, too.”

She couldn't help thinking about Lukas. How would this affect their relationship? Granted, life had been so hectic for the past couple of weeks that they'd had no chance to talk about that night at Jarvis's, and about the hope that had flared within her at Lukas's reactions, his tenderness…and the depth of emotion he had displayed. Just thinking about it warmed her all over again.

But was she being fair to him now? Shouldn't she…somehow…tell him about this before things went further? Lukas had never been married, never had the opportunity to have children, and now she knew she couldn't offer him that.

And yet, could she bear it if he turned away from her now?

L
ittle Mary's Barbecue, on the square in Knolls next to Jack's Print Shop, always had smoke rising from its chimney, even on the hottest days. The smoke advertised the tender, spicy pork, chicken and beef better than any billboard or newspaper ad. The locals flocked there for noon and evening meals, and sometimes a stray visitor wandered in. Fame had spread fast, and now the rustic café was open on weekends.

Tedi loved Little Mary's Barbecue, but she hardly ever got to eat there anymore. Dad used to take her there when she lived with him, but Mom cooked at home a lot, and so did Grandma. Grandma said Little Mary's didn't trim their meat, so Tedi was doomed to a healthy diet.

The little downtown café already had a dozen customers when Tedi stepped inside ahead of her mom at exactly eleven o'clock. The wooden floors and plain wooden tables and chairs made it look like the dining room at the Cartwrights' on
Bonanza
reruns. The sound of their footsteps echoed against the walls, the way Little Joe's boots would echo. The smell of the special barbecue Little Mary made was sharp and smoky and wonderful, probably as good as Hop Sing's, and Tedi stopped to get a whiff.

Mom stumbled into her from behind. “Tedi, keep moving!”

“Sorry.” Tedi turned to look up at her mom, who'd been grumpy ever since she picked Tedi up at school. “Don't worry, Mom. He can't do anything to us here in front of people.”

Mom took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sorry. Let's go sit at a booth in the back, since he isn't here yet. Maybe we can have some privacy that way.”

They had just scooted together into the booth at the far back of the room when the front door squeaked open again and Dad walked through, looking as worried as Mom was. Tedi sucked in her breath.

He saw them right away, and the worry seemed to disappear. He smiled and raised his hand in an eager wave, then walked toward them, the clomp of his work shoes making the wood floor sound hollow. Dad didn't dress like he used to. Before, he always wore suits and silk shirts and ties and shiny shoes to work. Now he had on worn jeans with a gray plaid shirt. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he had a stain of purple ink on his arm. He wore no jewelry now except for a watch. When he looked at Mom and bent to sit down across from them, he was still smiling.

“Thanks for coming, Mercy. I was afraid you might not be able to get away.” His smile widened when he looked at Tedi.

Tedi didn't smile back. Just because she wanted to come to lunch and see him today didn't mean everything was back to normal.

“We haven't ordered yet.” Mom's voice was sharper, higher than her usual warm, comforting tones. Even as she spoke, a waitress came to take their order.

Tedi felt a clenching in her stomach, and she couldn't tell if it was hunger or worry…maybe fear. This whole thing felt weird, and Tedi wondered if it was just because this was the first time since she was five that she'd ever seen her parents
actually sit down and eat together. Would they get into a fight? She'd never seen them when they got along, even before the divorce.

After the waitress left, Dad looked at Tedi and smiled again. “I'm glad you came, Tedi. I'm sorry if I scared you at school the other day.” He looked at Mom. “I wasn't really trying to talk to her without permission. I just wanted to see her again. It's been so long, and I really missed her.”

Mom took a deep breath, let it out and shook her head. “Theodore, you've apologized a lot lately.” Her voice wasn't sharp or angry, but it sounded nervous. “I appreciate the thought, but we came here today to discuss setting up some kind of a schedule for Tedi to see you. Why don't we talk about the work you're doing now, the hours you might have off when you can visit with Tedi under supervision, and maybe what kind of visitation time you have in mind, what kinds of activities you might want. I think Tedi has a few questions for you, too.” She reached over and patted Tedi's shoulder reassuringly.

Dad held up his arm with the purple ink stain. “Well, as far as work goes, I have a lot more fun now than I used to, and I get a lot dirtier. Jack's teaching me how to run all the presses.” He looked at Mom. “You know how much I used to love working on the machines.”

She nodded. “I remember.” She looked across at Tedi and explained. “Ten years ago your father spent so much time at the hospital watching the maintenance men work, I thought he would get a job there. He knew every X-ray machine in Radiology.”

“So now I'm learning printing,” Theo continued. “This morning we printed out a special handout sheet advertising a school dance coming up in a couple of weeks. Jack's got some old-fashioned printers, and since I did typesetting in journalism class in high school, I remembered a little bit about the machines.”

The waitress brought their drinks, and Tedi's attention went from Dad's face to Mom's face and back again. Mom grabbed her lemonade and gulped down half of it before she put it down. According to Grandma, that always meant Mom was nervous.

“You took journalism?” Tedi asked Dad. “That's what we're doing in class right now. I'm supposed to write a two-page interview on Abby tonight, but I don't think I can keep it down to two pages. I know too much about her.”

Dad shrugged. “I didn't do any more writing than I had to in school. I just liked the machines. All I remember about the writing was that you're supposed to put the important stuff first, because if the editor cuts it, he starts from the end and works his way to the beginning. Why don't you just write as much as you want to write, putting the big stuff first, then turn in the first two pages?”

Tedi sat back in her seat. “Maybe I will.”

“Knowing how much you love to do homework,” Dad said dryly, “you'll get to the bottom of the second page and decide the teacher doesn't need to know as much about Abby as you thought he did. By the way, Abby who? I thought you hated the Abby in your class last year. Is it the same one?”

“Yeah, but I didn't really hate her. We just fought a lot. She was jealous of me because I was smarter than she was, and the teacher liked me better. She wasn't so bad after my grades dropped last spring.” Tedi was vaguely aware of Mom and Dad exchanging a quick glance, and she remembered that Mom had always blamed Dad for that. “Then when we started school again this fall, after everything that happened to me when you were drinking, and when you went to jail, most of the other kids wouldn't have anything to do with me at first. But Abby did. She told me she knew how it felt to have your mom and dad fight, because her parents fight a lot. Only, they still live together. They're not divorced.”

Mom picked up her glass of lemonade and gulped several more large swallows, then set the glass down and looked at Dad. “I guess you might call them best friends by default.”

Dad picked up his own glass of ice water and held it against the side of his face for a moment. He looked like he was having a “hot flash” like Mom's.

The waitress brought the food—three mixed-grill barbecue sandwiches on kaiser rolls made from scratch. They used to call them “homemade,” but for some reason Little Mary had changed the menus and the sign out front last week. The coleslaw was Tedi's favorite. They made it with lots of carrots and raisins, green onions and purple cabbage, and the dressing was sweet.

Tedi was wondering if she should say a silent blessing on her food, the way Grandma Ivy had taught her, when she glanced at Dad. He sat hunched over his sandwich, head bowed, eyes closed.

Tedi turned to her mom in alarm. “Is Dad sick?” she whispered.

Mom shook her head slightly, her mouth set in a firm line as she picked up her lemonade glass one more time and gestured toward the waitress across the room for a refill.

Dad raised his head. “No, Tedi, I'm not sick. I've been…praying before I eat.”

Mom shot him a startled look. “Afraid you'll choke?”

He leaned back in his seat, watching her cautiously. “No. My boss, Jack, has taken me to lunch a couple of times, and he prays before we eat, so I've started doing it the past few days.”

Tedi sat up farther in her seat, afraid to hope for too much. “Why do you do that, Dad?”

Dad looked at Mom for a moment, then turned his attention to Tedi. “Because I gave my life to Christ last week.”

Mercy snorted. “And He took it?”

He ignored her and kept his gaze on his daughter. “I
know I don't deserve it after all I've done, Tedi. I was trying so hard to change my life—to stop drinking and stop hurting people the way I have in the past—and I discovered I couldn't do it on my own.” He looked down at his food as if it had suddenly sprouted bugs. “About two weeks ago, after a whole summer of being sober, I bought a pint of whiskey and drank it over the weekend.”

“Two weeks?” Mom paused, as if calculating the time in her head. “You were drunk at Jarvis's party?”

“No, I bought the bottle afterward on my way home.”

“You're drinking again!” Mom exclaimed.

He spread his hands. “I told you, Mercy, I can't stop on my own. I'm an alcoholic, and I guess I always will be if I keep feeling the need to take that first drink. The morning after I finished the bottle I went and talked to Lukas.”

Mom stiffened and caught her breath. “Why him? Why didn't you just call your counselor?”

“Because Lukas was the one who made the difference. He's the one who explained to me for the first time why Christ's Spirit has to control mine, why I'm helpless against the alcoholism without His strength.”

Tedi felt a great rush of hope. “Does that mean you're saved now, Dad? You're a Christian?”

Dad's eyes reflected her joy. He nodded. “That's right. I've got my own New Testament, and my boss prays with me every morning. He says I'll still have to fight against that old Zimmerman temper, and I'll still be tempted to drink. But I can tell the difference in my life. Now all I have to do is pray about it, and think about you, and how much I want to be with you again.”

“Supervised,” Mom said quickly. “Don't forget that, Theo.”

He looked at her and held her gaze and nodded. “You're right. So I've joined a new A.A. group that meets on Wednesday nights at Covenant Baptist.”

Mom picked up her glass again. “Lukas and Mom go to that church.” Her voice was still as sharp, her face even more worried-looking than it had been. Her movements were jerky, and she squeezed the lemonade glass—so hard her fingers turned white.

Dad sighed, and his shoulders slumped just a little. “It isn't what you think this time, Mercy. Honest. I haven't been trying to turn your mother against you. In fact, I haven't even talked to her at church. I doubt if she wants to have anything to do with me. But did you know her pastor is a recovered alcoholic?”

“Recovering,”
Mom reminded him. “They're never totally recovered.”

Tedi looked up at Mom impatiently. She could let up on Dad just a little bit now. He said he was a Christian. He was really trying to change…Of course, Mom didn't believe in Christ. So maybe she just didn't understand the change that was taking place in Dad's heart. Maybe Grandma and Lukas could explain it to her again.

“I'll never forget that, Mercy,” Dad said. “I've attended one of their worship services, but I sat in the back, and Ivy didn't see me. The church has two morning services, and if you don't want me going to your mom's service, I'll go to the other one.”

“Why should it make me uncomfortable?” Mom took another big swallow of her drink. “I don't even attend.”

“You could, Mom,” Tedi said. “You could take me, and that could be a way I could see Dad while I was being supervised.”

“You already go with your grandmother.”

“So don't you want to make sure for yourself that Dad's not going to kidnap me or something?”

“Kidnap?” Mom shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Honey, I don't think—”

Dad's sudden laughter interrupted her. “Watch it, Tedi. You're trying to manipulate your mom. You sound like me.”

Mom picked up her sandwich, then put it down again, folded her hands at the edge of the table and looked straight at Dad. “Why don't we start slowly.” Her voice was soft and calm, not angry. “We could do like we did today, meet for lunch, only do it on Saturday when we don't have work or school. We could plan to meet a week from this Saturday and see how things progress from there.”

“All right!” Tedi picked up her sandwich and took a big bite. It tasted great. Maybe they could come to Little Mary's again. Or maybe they could go to the Cantina across the street from the hospital. Lukas had taken them there a couple of times, and even though Mom complained about the fat content of the Mexican food, she always agreed that it sure tasted good.

Tedi could tell by the look on Dad's face that Mom's idea made him happy. He took a big, hungry bite of his drippy sandwich. Tedi took another bite of hers. Mom kept drinking her lemonade, and she finally asked the waitress for a bag for her food, explaining that she wasn't hungry.