Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (84 page)

She watched him drive away. Tim Dollar, she grinned, you just became the father of my unborn child. You have a whale of a lot more money than Mack. Hell, maybe I'll let both you and Mack be the father. Why not?"

As she adjusted the halter-top the word “arboretum” popped into her mind. I know Uncle Amos said “attic,” she thought, but then, everything else he said was slurred. Maybe he was trying to say “arboretum.” Instantly she thought of the padlocked bank of green cabinets lining the rear of the greenhouse furthest from the house. She grabbed the ring of keys and raced to the rear exit, stopped, shook her head, and put on her coat.

The last greenhouse was less that two hundred yards away, but her exposed legs were turning blue by the time she reached its warmth. She hurried to the wall of cabinets, each with its own padlock. The seventh key she tried opened the first lock.

The cabinet was filled with black videocassettes, each identified only by a date. She left the door unlocked and worked on the second cabinet. It, too, contained black videotapes. Seven of the ten cabinets housed hundreds of dated videocassettes. She knew what they must contain.

She opened the eighth cabinet and found it filled with cardboard boxes, all the same shape and size. She pulled one of them out, and gasped when she opened it. It was full of money—fives, tens, twenties, fifties and hundreds—more money than she had ever seen in her life. With trembling hands, she opened four more of the boxes. They, too, contained neatly stacked bills.

Penny hoped that the final two cabinets were stuffed with money also, but the ninth one was only half full and the tenth was empty except for a single sealed envelope with her name on it. She ripped it open and read the note.

Penny,

You've found it. Now destroy it all—the tapes and the money. Don't look at the tapes. Believe me its best for you not to see what is on them. Burn the money. It's filthy money. It can only bring you grief.

You must be asking yourself why I didn't destroy the tapes and the money myself. I have no answer other than I am a weak man. Don't you be weak, Penny. Destroy it all.

Love,

Uncle Amos

“It may be filthy money to you, Uncle Amos, but it's the most beautiful sight on earth to me,” Penny said aloud. “I may destroy the tapes, but I'll buy the world with the money and enjoy every dollar of it. I'm going to look at the tapes, too, Uncle Amos. They may be worth as much as the cash."

She rushed back to the house, took a quick shower, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, found a wheelbarrow and spent the next hour moving the tapes and cash to the study. She drove to the hardware store, bought a slip-bolt lock for the study door to keep Billy out, got a bite to eat at Dot's Diner, and rushed back to the house. Another sleepless night loomed ahead, and her heart was pounding as she began to count the money out on Uncle Amos’ desk. She felt like Silas Marner, running fingers through his gold.

Jo gave up trying to find a station playing decent music on the old Chevy radio and switched it off.

“We should give some thought to buying a second car,” Randy said. “Let's make sure it has a CD player in it."

“That would be nice,” she replied coolly as she looked through the passenger window at power poles that seemed to whiz by.

They listened to the engine noise and the sound of the tires bumping over cracks in the concrete highway. Neither knew what to say.

“It sure is a big place,” Randy at last said.

“Huge,” she agreed. “If I worked there for ten years I still don't think I would be able to find my way around."

“They need to do something about parking,” Randy mused. “The parking decks are sufficient, I suppose, but they are so far away."

“It just adds to the confusion of the labyrinth of hallways,” Jo agreed.

“I wonder why they changed the name?"

“I asked a nurse while my feet were in stirrups. She said Wake Forest College originated in the town of Wake Forest near Raleigh. Later, a tobacco tycoon named Bowman Gray donated the money to establish a medical school on condition that the school be located in Winston-Salem. That's why at first it was called the Bowman Gray School of Medicine, as all of the signs still say. Back in the fifties another grant from tobacco interests moved the college to Winston-Salem. Later it became a University with international importance. Although the medical school has always been a part of Wake Forest, few people outside the area knew it because of the Bowman Gray name. Renaming the medical school as the Wake Forest University School of Medicine should clear up the confusion."

“Makes sense,” Randy said.

“They intend to continue to honor Mr. Gray by calling the campus by his name."

Randy nodded and they rode on in silence. “Jo,” he mumbled a few minutes later. “I don't know what to say."

“Let's don't talk about it just yet,” she replied. “Have you heard any reaction from your mother since Dr. Wood moved to Dot?"

“No, but I expect Mom will have plenty to say when she visits us next week."

“Do you think it's safe for your mother to fly down here alone?"

“That's the way she wanted to do it. Someone from the home will put her on the plane and we'll meet her in Charlotte. Seems safe enough to me."

Jo shifted in her seat. The shoulder strap slipped over her right breast. She adjusted it, and rubbed the spot the strap pinched. “I think we should do something about a second car before she arrives."

“I was thinking the same thing,” Randy agreed. “We could go car shopping in Charlotte tomorrow if you like."

“What are you thinking of buying?"

“I don't know much about used cars, so I think we should get a new one with a guarantee."

“Ouch. I'm not so sure we should spend that much money on a car at this point in our lives. If we get a new one, let's get one of the little inexpensive jobs."

Randy laughed. “Ain't no such thing,” he said.

“You know what I mean. Something like a Ford Escort."

“Suits me,” he said, “as long as it has a CD player in it."

The conversation lagged again.

“Jo, we've got to talk about it,” Randy said.

They were now on Interstate 85. The Dot exit was just a few miles away.

“Speaking of Dr. Wood, what's the deal with this Alfred Young that Mary Lou hired for the clinic?"

“We weren't speaking of Dr. Wood,” Randy mumbled.

“We were a few minutes ago."

Randy conceded the point. “Alfred seems to be a nice enough fellow, but I'm still not used to men in the nursing profession."

“I heard that he's not exactly a nurse."

“He's a nurse practitioner. I talked with him the other day at Dot's Diner,” Randy explained. “He has considerably more education than a regular nurse, but not near as much as a physician. Still, he can write prescriptions and do diagnoses and most of the things a regular doctor can do."

“I hope Dr. McGee keeps a tight rein on him, at least until he has proved his ability."

Randy laughed halfheartedly. “I expect Mary Lou will keep a tight rein on both Alfred and Dr. Wood."

“She's been so overworked it has about destroyed her marriage. She needed some help."

“Who are you talking about? Dr. McGee?"

“Yes."

“She and Mack are having problems?"

“Well, she was pretending to joke when she said it, but she told me that if she didn't get some help soon Mack was going to leave her. I believe her. He's one frustrated bastard."

“Come on, Jo. Like you said. She was just kidding,” Randy chided.

“I'm not so sure about that. Sometimes truth is the bedrock of jovial comments. Besides, Mack has turned into a lecherous, horny preacher if there ever was one. He has felt me up with his eyes many times, Randy."

“You're making that up, Jo. Mack doesn't have a lecherous bone in his body. Maybe it's just wishful thinking on your part. He's a very nice looking man."

She glared at him. “That was uncalled for."

“You're right,” he said. “I'm sorry about that too."

“That too?” she said. “What else are you sorry about?"

He turned onto the Dot Exit. “You know what else—the thing you refuse to discuss."

She twisted in her seat to face him, eyes flashing. “All right, damn it,” she spat out as she adjusted the shoulder belt to keep it from pinching her breast again. “You want to talk about it? Okay. We'll talk about it. I've gone through hell trying to find a way to have your baby. Now we find out that both of my ovaries are churning out nice healthy eggs but all of your soldiers are dead. Why didn't you tell me about it before I went to all this trouble?"

“I didn't know, Jo,” he said defensively, anger beginning to rise. “How the hell was I supposed to know? You are the only woman I've ever had sex with—the only woman I ever wanted to have a baby with."

“Don't tell me that at some point a physical examination did not reveal your problem."

“Physical exams do not normally test a man's sperm. I swear I did not know I had a problem until we received the test results today. I'm sorry, Jo. I'm very, very sorry."

She straightened up in her seat, determined not to cry. Why hadn't he lashed out at her for having a tubal ligation?

“Maybe their advice will work,” he said lamely.

“Yeah, like wearing boxer shorts is going to make any difference."

“Maybe the hormone shots will work."

“Ten percent chance. That's what they said. There is a ten percent chance you will begin producing a few live sperm."

“One's all it takes,” he replied. “You heard them. If they can get one healthy guy out of me they can directly implant it into one of your eggs."

She refused to respond.

“There's also the sperm bank,” he said softly.

“If I'm going to go through nine months of pregnancy, its going to be your baby I give birth to, Randy—not somebody else's."

“We could adopt a baby,” he said.

“It takes a long time to gain the approval of an adoption agency,” she replied. “I doubt that they would approve me once they discover my background. Even if they did, the waiting list is endless."

“But you would not be opposed to adoption?"

She looked out the window at the trees lining the road to Dot. The bare limbs against the gray sky appeared as gloomy as her spirits. “A long time ago I read something,” she said. “It may have been in a short story. Anyway, this kid learned that he was an adopted child and was upset about it. A friend told him he was twice blessed. He had two mothers who wanted him. His birth mother could have chosen abortion, but didn't. His adopted mother chose him to be her son. In the story, it was a heartwarming exchange. I screwed it up, but the bottom line is, no, I am not opposed to adopting a baby but I don't think it is an option in our case."

She switched on the radio as an excuse to end the conversation, but then switched it right back off. “Randy,” she said. “I'm the one who should apologize. I am so disappointed I just needed to kick a cat. There's no cat in the car, so you were elected."

“Lucky really is lucky."

“What?"

“If he were with us, you might have kicked him instead of me."

She smiled. “I guess I'm feeling a little bitchy right now."

“Its okay,” he said.

“It's not okay,” she replied. “You can't help your sperm can't swim. I am responsible for my past life that will prevent us from adopting."

“I love you, Jo. Something will work out."

“No, it won't. Not as far as having a baby is concerned. But we have many opportunities to enjoy a great life together. We'll just have to forget about having a baby."

“There is a bright side,” he said, the ends of his mouth slightly curving upward.

“I wish you would share it with me."

“No dirty diapers to change."

Jo wrinkled her nose and laughed.

Penny was uncomfortable, but the cause was not her feet in the stirrups. It was the man with his fingers in her vagina that bothered her. She had been examined by male doctors most of her life, but this guy was a nurse. A sheet draped over her legs prevented her from seeing, but she could feel what he was doing. Still, there was a female regular nurse in the examining room, so it must be all right. His thumb touched her clitoris and rubbed lightly for the third or fourth time. It felt good, but she had never been stimulated during a vaginal examination before. She was embarrassed. She knew her juices were flowing.

He looked at her over the sheet, his gloved thumb now directly stimulating her clit. “There is nothing seriously wrong,” he said in a professional tone of voice. His eyes seemed to be asking if she wanted him to stop. “You have a couple of polyps that either of the doctors can snip off."

She clamped her teeth together and forced her expression to remain neutral. The thumb continued its work. She thought her juices must be dripping onto the table.

“There's no hurry about it. If you definitely decide on an abortion, it can be done then.” He reached up, adjusted the brilliant lamp, and again peered between her legs. “Just need to check out this little lump,” he explained while his thumb continued its activity.

“Excuse me,” said a white uniformed woman as she stuck her head through the partially open door of the examining room. “Your husband is on the phone, Mandy. He says it's important."

“Is it all right, Alfred?” the nurse asked.

He smiled broadly. “Sure, Mandy. We're about through here."

When the nurse closed the door behind her, Alfred grinned and asked, “You want me to finish you with my thumb or my cock?"

Penny glared at him. “Your tongue, you damn bastard,” she hissed.

“Happy to oblige, ma'am,” he responded. His head disappeared from her sight, below the sheets draped across her knees.

She managed to stifle an oral expression of the orgasm, but he knew.

“I would like to give you a breast exam, but Mandy may be back any second now.” He pulled off the rubber gloves and tossed them in a receptacle. “Put your clothes on and come to my office. We need to talk."

He was sitting behind a small desk in a tiny cubicle when she entered. He motioned towards two pills and a paper cup of water on the corner of the desk. “Take them,” he said. “They'll relax you a little."