Sacred Trust (34 page)

“Because she has money?” he asked.

Mercy winced. “I know how that sounds, but yes. She helps support this place. The least she can do is try to reverse some of the damage she's done. You've at least got to let me try. Promise me you won't make a move today until I contact you.”

Lukas hesitated. Her passion touched him. He put his food down and leaned forward. “Mercy, would you want me to stay and fight if it was going to cost you your job?”

“Right is right no matter what the cost.”

He smiled as he reached out and touched her hand. “I appreciate what you're saying, and I believe you feel that way, but this isn't about my rights anymore. It's about doing the right thing after counting the cost to others.”

“Estelle Pinkley won't be fired. She's too good to let that happen.”

Lukas took a deep breath. “I'm presenting the resignation. In my court battle in KC against my former employers, three people spoke up in my defense. Before the trial was over, those people had lost their jobs. I won my case, but at what cost?”

“At least wait a day. One day, Lukas. Give me a chance to talk to Mom. Please.”

He picked up his pizza and took another bite, chewed, swallowed, while she waited. “I wasn't going to make a move until tomorrow, anyway,” he said at last.

Her brown eyes came alive when she smiled.

T
edi walked home from school with a backpack of books slung across her shoulders. It was almost summer, and she was so sick of being in school. Mrs. Watkins didn't seem too happy about her being there, either. Why hadn't she tried harder these past few months? The homework would take her hours, if she did it at all, and if she didn't do it, Mrs. Watkins would probably call Dad in for another conference. He would call her an old cow again, and Mrs. Watkins would just get grumpier. Tedi really hated that. There were a lot of things she hated about him lately. Not everything.

He had always rebelled against his teachers when he was in school. He'd told her so one night when he'd been drinking just a little. His parents hadn't helped him with homework, either. They'd gotten a divorce when Dad was Tedi's age. His dad, Tedi's grandfather, had died before Dad graduated from high school.

For a moment Tedi felt sorry for Dad. His family had been really poor when he was growing up, and Dad was unpopular in school. His brothers, all three of them, were
a lot older than Dad and had gotten married and moved away before Dad reached junior high. Then he'd been shifted back and forth from mother to father.

It was strange, but sometimes Tedi liked Dad better when he'd had a couple of cans of beer. It never lasted long, because he wouldn't quit once he'd started, but sometimes he would relax for a few minutes. For those few moments he was nice. He would talk about himself and his own childhood, even about having a crush on Mom years before she knew he existed—when she was hitting the books so hard she barely noticed boys at all and never dated because it might interfere with “real life,” as Dad put it.

A car pulled up to the curb beside her. “How about a ride?”

Tedi stopped walking and turned slowly toward the voice. Dad sat in the driver's seat of the BMW, gripping the steering wheel as if prepared for impact.

Tedi shrugged, trying not to frown. “Sure, Dad.”

His hands relaxed as she unslung the book bag from her shoulders and opened the door.

Trying not to be too obvious, she sniffed the air for the telltale odor of liquor breath. She didn't detect anything, but Dad's mouth was closed. She climbed in and put on her seat belt.

He pulled off slowly. At least he wasn't mad about anything.

Tedi cast a glance at him, pretending to look for a book in her bag. He was watching her. She looked away quickly. Why'd he have to come and get her? Next time she'd walk another way, maybe use the alleys or something. She didn't want him coming to get her or trying so hard to be nice, especially when that meant he would
spend more time with her. He never seemed normal anymore. Nothing seemed normal. She was scared of what he might do, but even worse than that, she just didn't like him. The sudden thought scared her. She felt so mad at him. In a way, she was almost more afraid of her own anger than she was of his drinking. She felt as if her mouth might say something horrible to him before she could stop it, and then he might hurt her.

“Lots of homework tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How about the Oriental Buffet for dinner before we go home?”

She looked at him and blinked. She didn't smell any booze, but didn't he realize it was barely past three o'clock? “I'm not hungry yet.”

“Okay, then, takeout.”

She shrugged. Why didn't he just stay at work?

“Does that mean yes?” he asked. His voice sounded impatient.

She took a breath and let it out slowly. “Yes,” she said through clenched teeth.

She had to keep her mouth shut. She'd promised Mom.

 

Mercy stepped out of her car with her stethoscope draped around her neck and her doctor's bag in her hand. Mom would not push her attentions off today.

As Mercy's anger had seethed this afternoon, she'd rehearsed what she would say, keeping in mind the fact that Mom was sick. This would not be a good time for a fight or even one of their regular arguments. This was a time for tenderness and a good bedside manner.

Ivy opened the door before Mercy could knock. “I've been watching for you.”

Mercy hid her dismay at Ivy's pale features. “Hi, Mom. How're you feeling?”

“Tired. Relieved to be home.” She stepped back from the doorway. “Come on in. I guess I deserve this visit.”

“What are you talking about? I'm just going to check you out for myself to make sure you survived the flight.”

Ivy let her in, then closed the door and dropped into the nearest straight-backed chair. She gestured toward the stethoscope around Mercy's neck. “Don't strangle me with that thing.”

Mercy lowered herself to her knees beside the chair in order to work better. She took the offending instrument from around her neck. “I'm not going to strangle you.”

“You know about my fax to Jarvis, don't you?”

“Who doesn't? Be quiet for a moment.” Mercy listened to the regular sinus rhythm of Ivy's heart, took her pulse, counted respirations. A little elevated, but understandable if she'd been expecting a fight. Mercy's own pulse was probably a little fast, too. She pulled the sphygmomanometer out of her bag and checked Ivy's blood pressure. Also a little elevated.

She put everything away and perched on the arm of the sofa across from her mother. “Relax, Mom, I'm not going to yell. I didn't find out about the fax until Dr. Simeon informed me about it this morning. Of course I was upset when I heard, but your health is of utmost importance to me right now.”

Ivy smiled wryly. “So when you find out I'm perfectly healthy, that's when you'll strangle me.”

“Am I that bad?”

“You can't help yourself. You take after me.” Ivy leaned forward, elbows on knees, and fixed Mercy with an intent gaze. “I still act on impulse. That fax was pure
impulse when I was in the Denver hospital waiting to find out whether or not I was going to die. I felt so guilty for behaving irresponsibly, ruining the first part of the hike for the others and endangering my own life. I thought about what that might have done to you and Tedi, and I knew I'd really blown it. I think, with the guilt and fear and continued grief over Mother, I wasn't thinking clearly. I could also blame it on remnants from the drugs they gave me.”

“Are you saying you're sorry you sent it?”

“More so as time goes on, and I think about the damage I may have done to Dr. Bower's career, to the future of the hospital.”

“When did you decide this?”

“On the flight back. I had a lot of time to think about it, and I realized you were right about my attitude weeks ago. I blamed Dr. Bower for Mother's death.” Ivy sighed, leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “I was being spiteful and vindictive, and I tried to camouflage it as community spirit—seeing to the safety of our citizens. I didn't show a Christian spirit.”

“As you said, you were sick and confused.”

“I can't blame you for not listening to me when I talk about Christianity. I spout all this stuff about the love of God, and then sometimes I act as if I think
I'm
God. I'm sorry, Mercy. I'm failing you.”

“That's ridiculous, Mom. You're human.”

“I'm also a Christian, and my own daughter rejects God.”

Mercy studied her mother's face for a moment. “Maybe not.”

Mom's eyes widened. She didn't say anything, just held Mercy's gaze.

“That doesn't mean I plan to ‘get saved' and join a
church. But, Mom, you really have changed. Five years ago, you would've never admitted what you just did. And you're more forgiving than you used to be, more patient with Tedi.”

“I really was terrible, wasn't I?”

“That's not what—”

“I know.” Ivy smiled. “You don't know how much that means to me.” She studied Mercy's face for a moment more, then said, “Dr. Bower's had something to do with your change of heart, too, hasn't he? You told me on the telephone the other day that he was a Christian, and I didn't want to hear it.”

“He is, Mom.”

“What can I do to help him?”

“He's planning to quit the hospital.”

“Why?”

“Lots of reasons. The fax was just one of them. Bailey Little has a personal vendetta against him for reasons I can't go into—”

“Dwayne Little tried to get drugs from the E.R. and Dr. Bower was not compliant.”

Mercy looked at her mom with renewed respect. “Yes, and Lukas also missed an MI last Thursday, but upon researching the case, I have discovered that the patient refused any of the tests that would ordinarily alert him to the problem. Lukas should have signed her out AMA—against medical advice—but he didn't. Jarvis has been out of line on this whole thing, especially when he spread word about Lukas losing his residency position.”

“I know. I allowed him to bully me into siding with him against Dr. Bower.”

“I personally wouldn't believe what Jarvis said about anything right now.”

Ivy shook her head. “I'll call Estelle and try to do some damage control.”

Mercy smiled, then stood up and hugged her mom. “Thanks. If they'll listen to any one person, they'll listen to you. I'll call Lukas tonight and try to talk him out of resigning.”

 

The young emergency room physician at Willow Springs reminded Jarvis of Lukas Bower, with his muscular build, light brown hair and glasses. Jarvis found this extremely irritating, and he hated the position he was in, needy, dependent. He had no choice. He was out of pain meds and could get no more without arousing suspicion. Jarvis had checked in here at least an hour ago using a fake name and offering to pay cash at the window. They had run tests, let him sit in pain and pretty much treated him as if he were a drug seeker.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Delaney, but your tests results aren't back yet,” the young doctor answered in response to Jarvis's repeated plea for pain relief.

“What about the CT?” Jarvis snapped. “Surely that's been read.”

“We want to run the films.”

“I want to see them. What about the other tests?”

The young doctor sighed and explained slowly, as if Jarvis were of below average intelligence, “When we get the films, we would like to teleradiograph them to the radiologist on call. Then we'll consider all the results—”

“Skip the details!” Jarvis shouted. “I know the details!” His head throbbed so painfully that he grabbed at his skull and cried out and felt as if the lights had suddenly gone out. He heard the man's reply in snatches.

“…can see you're in pain…give you a shot…lie back…”

“I can't stay overnight,” Jarvis managed to say as he
allowed unseen hands to help him lie down. “I've got work to do.”

A few moments later he felt the prick of a needle. The relief, when it came, was not complete, but it was very precious.

 

Mercy had arrived home and was about to call Lukas when her own phone rang. Tedi's muffled voice reached her when she picked up the line.

“Mom, it's me. I hate him! I wish he were dead!” She stopped, and a sob echoed through the phone line. “I know I promised to keep my mouth shut, but it's so hard.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. He's just so hateful.” Tedi's sobs grew in strength, and Mercy allowed her to cry. It was probably what she needed most, aside from a different father. When the sobs dwindled and stilled, Mercy asked gently, “Where are you calling from?”

“Home.”

“Where is your father?”

“He's not a father. He's a horrible—”

“Where is he?”

“He went out for a while. Probably to drink.” She sniffed.

Mercy wanted to drive over immediately and take her daughter out of that house, drive away into the night and never bring her back. “Tedi, has he been drinking?” She braced herself for the answer.

“No, Mom, I don't think so.”

“What has he done today?”

More sniffing. “Nothing. He picked me up on the way home from school, and we got something to eat, and then he tried to help me with my homework.”

“He did?”

“But he couldn't. He's dumb.”

“Did he help you with English or math?”

“English and history.”

“Let him help with math. He can do that.”

“I don't want him to help me with anything! I want him to stay away from me. I don't want him to even talk to me. I kept thinking about what he's done and I hate him!”

Mercy recognized the signs. She'd felt the same way, when she couldn't stand the sight of Theo even when he was trying to be nice, because she knew it wouldn't last. All the kindness he could dredge up wouldn't erase all the pain he'd caused.