Читать книгу Solemn Oath - Hannah Alexander - Страница 11

E leven-year-old Tedi Zimmerman answered the final question on her test paper as the bell rang for afternoon recess. Yes! She pushed the page to the top of her desk and looked up at Mr. Walters to see if he noticed. He nodded and smiled. He’d been watching.

She got up and started toward the door, but Abby Cuendet—her worst enemy last year, her best friend this year—grabbed her arm and stopped her.

Tedi turned back around. “Hey, what’re you doing?”

Abby pushed straight brown bangs out of her eyes, glanced out the window, then back at Tedi. “I thought you said your dad was locked up.”

“He is. He’s in detox up in Springfield.”

Abby scrunched up her face, pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose and turned to point out the window. “That sure looks like him to me.”

Tedi caught her breath and stiffened, refusing to look. “That’s not funny.” Mom and Grandma had both said Dad was supposed to be locked up for a long time.

“So who’s that?”

Feeling the darkness of an old nightmare, Tedi turned slowly and looked in the direction Abby pointed. A man stood in the shade beneath the trees that surrounded the playground. His hands were in his pockets. Looking down with his shoulders slumped, he didn’t look as tall as Dad, and his clothes weren’t silk and wool with ties and dress shoes. But the shape of his head and the line of his face, even at this distance, were too familiar. Abby’s mom said Dad looked like a blond Pierce Brosnan, but Tedi had seen pictures of Pierce Brosnan, and he looked a lot nicer. He didn’t look like the kind of man who would try to kill his own daughter.

For a minute Tedi thought she was going to throw up. She tightened her hands into fists and took some deep breaths. It couldn’t be. Was she having another bad dream? She couldn’t take her gaze from the intruder as he watched the kids spill out of the school building onto the grass. When they quit coming, he turned and looked directly toward the windows of Tedi’s classroom, as if he knew she was there.

She gasped and stepped back. “What’s he doing here?” Her voice shook. Her whole body shook. “He’s not supposed to be out of—”

“Girls?” Mr. Walters called. “Aren’t you finished with your papers?”

Tedi turned and looked hard at her teacher, at his wide middle and thick shoulders. “Yes, we’re finished.” He looked safe and calm as he gathered up papers and stacked them and turned to erase something from the chalkboard. One time he had stepped between a kid and an attacking dog and saved the kid from being bitten. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt his students. “Go out and enjoy the sunshine while you can,” he called over his shoulder. “The rest of the week is supposed to be cloudy.” Which was another way of saying he wanted some time to de-stress and straighten the room. He’d told Tedi that once when she stayed behind to help him collect papers.

Tedi almost asked if she could stay and help him with papers again, but Abby nudged her. “Why don’t you just go and find out what your dad wants, dummy?”

Tedi shoved her friend’s arm away. “Why should I? If he wants to talk to me he can go see the principal first. He’s not even supposed to be here. No strangers on the playground, remember?”

“He’s not a stranger. He’s your dad. Come on, let’s at least get out of here.” She nudged Tedi again.

Tedi allowed herself to be pushed out the door and into the wide hallway. Together they walked to the side exit, where both of the double doors stood open to let in the cool late-September air. Maybe he would be gone when they got outside…or maybe it wasn’t even him. It just looked like him.

But when they stepped around the corner of the building in view of the broad, grassy playground, he was still in the same place in the shadows, hands in his pockets, head bowed.

Tedi felt her heart pound, the way it had that night when he shouted at her and raised his hand and hit her so hard it knocked her out.

“Don’t you want to find out what he’s doing here?” Abby demanded, nudging Tedi again with her elbow.

Tedi jerked away. “Stop it!”

“Gosh, Tedi, it’s no big deal. Just go talk to him.”

“You don’t know anything about it. You never saw him drunk.”

“He’s been in detox, hasn’t he? He won’t be drunk.” Eyes flashing with curiosity behind shiny lenses, Abby nudged her again. “Go on and find out what he wants. I’ll watch from here, and if he looks like he’s going to get close to you, I’ll run back in and get Mr. Walters.”

“Oh sure, and what’s Mr. Walters going to do, sit on him and crush him to death?”

Abby fell silent, giving Tedi her most stern look of reproach. Tedi stared back, hands on hips.

“Chicken,” Abby muttered.

“Shut up. I am not. I’m just not stupid.”

“Don’t you trust me, Tedi? I won’t let him hurt you.”

Tedi snorted. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do if he grabs me and runs?”

“Chase him down and kick his rear. Maybe throw a rock and hit him in the head, and you know I can do it, too.”

Tedi held her friend’s steady gaze for another few seconds. Abby had given Graham Kutz a black eye the other day for picking on her little brother and sister. She could also throw a ball better than anybody in the school. And she was a loyal friend, even if she was pushy and had a big mouth.

Tedi sighed, and Abby grinned triumphantly. “Knew you’d go. I’ll watch from here. Don’t worry.”

For a moment, Tedi couldn’t get her feet to work. She did not want to go talk to her father. She didn’t even want to think of him as her father. But she wanted to know what he was up to. It would be better to do it now, with Abby standing by, ready to conk him in the head with a rock, than to wait for him to catch her when she wasn’t expecting him.

When Abby pushed her again, she went, walking slowly, as if sneaking up on a dangerous animal. And he was dangerous. Tedi reached up and fingered the fading scar on her neck where the surgeon had cut into her throat to save her life after Dad had damaged an artery in his drunken rage. He’d also embezzled money where he worked. Everybody in town knew about him. Tedi knew the kids at school talked about her behind her back, and she hated it. She hated what he did to Mom and the way he’d threatened to ruin Mom’s practice again if she tried to get custody. And the only reason he wanted custody was because Mom had to pay so much child support. Tedi would never go back to live with him. She would rather die first.

Her heart was beating so fast now she could barely hear the sound of wind flipping the leaves around on the trees. Breathing hard, yet trying not to make noise, she stopped about ten feet from where he stood, and she studied him.

He looked different. Of course, he wasn’t drunk now, but he looked different from the way he had this spring even when he was sober. He looked smaller somehow. His blond hair looked more gray. He had more creases in his face.

“What are you doing here?” She said it, then held her breath, arms straight at her sides, anger and fear mingling within her. If he moved toward her, she would turn and run.

He swung around, and his pale blue eyes widened, his lips parted slightly in surprise. “Tedi.” He breathed the name. He did not move a muscle, but stood staring at her as if she were a bird he was afraid would fly away.

Her gaze darted toward the kids on the playground, and at the teachers refereeing, and at Abby watching from the door of the school building, hands clenched at her sides, gaze fierce, as though she were getting ready to thwack a baseball.

“I’m sorry, Tedi. I didn’t come here to scare you.” Dad’s voice drew Tedi’s attention back to him, and his blue gaze held her, roving over her face, as if he was studying it. “I wasn’t even going to let you know I was here. I just wanted to see you again. I thought you’d be out on the playground with the rest of the kids.” He sounded hoarse, as if he hadn’t been talking much lately and wasn’t used to it.

He wouldn’t stop looking at her.

“But why are you out?” she demanded.

“The judge released me.”

Tedi felt a fresh surge of anger and fear. What kind of a judge would release a man who’d almost killed his own kid? “Why?”

“I dried out, no booze since…None all summer.”

“Oh, sure. How can you get to the booze when you’re locked up? That doesn’t prove anything.”

“That’s what I asked them. I was afraid to leave. I didn’t trust myself because I can’t forget what I did to you.” He slowly took his hands out of his pockets and spread them, taking care not to get close to her. “The judge assigned a new, young attorney to my case, and the guy got me out on bail because I had a good record at the detox center, and I’d never been in trouble with the police before, and—”

“But I almost died!” Tedi crossed her arms over her chest. How could they just let him go like that? “Mom said you couldn’t get out to hurt me again.”

He winced as if someone had slugged him. A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I won’t hurt you again.” Now he seemed to study the ground as closely as he had been studying her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I just wanted to see you, see for myself how you were doing…. I guess I had to make sure you were really okay. I was so scared that night…so sure that…And the police took me in while you were being flown out for surgery.” He looked up then, and his gaze pinpointed the scar at her throat. “I did that and so many other things. All these months in detox I’ve realized how much I did to destroy what I had with you, and…and I was the one who destroyed the relationship I had with your mother. I’ve been forced to admit so much this summer, so much I didn’t want to see, but that I can’t afford to forget.”

Tedi watched his face and listened to his voice. He’d apologized before. Maybe he’d meant it when he said it, but what good had it done?

His gaze drifted again to her throat, and she knew he was looking at the scar, then he closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them tightly shut, as if he were afraid they would burn out if he kept them open any longer. He looked old. He was the same age as Mom, but he looked a lot older than she did. His eyes looked wrinkled, and they turned down at the corners, the way his mouth did.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and he raised his head and gazed into her eyes again. “I can’t ever make it up to you, Tedi, and I’m so sorry.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m going to try anyway. Tedi, I’m not supposed to be here, but I want to get permission to try to see you again. Before I do that, though, I want to know if it’s okay with you. If not, I’ll wait.”

She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She was too shocked, not by his words, but by the fact that she realized she didn’t hate him totally. Mostly, but not totally.

“I’d like a chance to talk with you, Tedi. Your mother would have to be there with us.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re talking to me now .”

“What I mean is that I want to start seeing you again, regularly, like the kind of visitation you had with your mom when you lived with me.”

She took a step forward, feeling braver. “Mom would never let you take me away from her again. Never! And I will never go back.”

He sighed and held her gaze steadily. “I wouldn’t try to get you back. If I got to visit with you, I wouldn’t even touch you. I promise. I just want to find out if it would be okay with you before I ask for permission from your mother.’ His light blue eyes filled with tears, and he looked away for a moment. “It’s going to take a long time to become friends again, but I have to try.”

Friends? Ha! A friend didn’t try to kill a friend. And a friend didn’t try to keep a friend from her mother or try to ruin her mother’s name in town just out of spite. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

He reached up with the back of his hand and brushed his tears away. “Of course you don’t. I’ve been talking with my counselor about it, and he said it would be unreasonable for me to expect that. I just felt like I had to make contact.”

So now he’d made contact. What else would he want? When Dad was nice, it was always because he wanted something. Why was she even listening to him? Why was she talking to him and thinking about what it might be like to see him again? She should hate him for what he had done to her and Mom. She shouldn’t’ve even come out here.

But what if he’d really changed?

“You’ll have to ask Mom yourself,” she said at last. “I’m not going to be your messenger this time.”

Dad blinked a couple of times and looked back at her. “You’d meet with me?” Some of the sadness left his face. The bell rang, and he stiffened. He reached out as if to touch her and then drew his hand back. “Tedi, I want to prove to you—and maybe to myself—that people can change, that they don’t have to be stuck in the rut they dig for themselves.”

For a moment, she couldn’t help hoping. Then she thought of something Grandma always said, and she knew Dad needed to hear it. “Grandma Ivy says nobody can do that without God’s help.”

Instead of sneering at her and laughing the way he used to do when she quoted Grandma, he cocked his head to the side. “How’s your grandma doing?”

Tedi heard her name being called and glanced toward the building to find Abby gesturing for her to hurry. “I’ve got to go.” She turned to leave.

“Okay. I’ll talk to your mom, Tedi. Today. I’m going to walk to her office right now.”

She paused and looked back and felt suddenly angry again. “Don’t you hurt her. Don’t scare her, and don’t fight with her.”

“I won’t.”

“If you do, I’ll never talk to you again.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, and the muscle flexed at the side of his jaw again. “I won’t hurt her, Tedi. I promise.”

Lukas slipped past the curtain in exam room five and greeted Jacob Casey, who lay on the bed beneath a thin sheet, his wounded upper arm covered in a sterile dressing. “Well, Cowboy, I’ve got a lot of good news and a little bad news. The good news is that I see no vital damage to your arm, and you won’t have to leave Knolls to have the wound repaired. The bullet exited with no bone involvement. The bad news is that I want a surgeon to have a look at you, and he’ll probably want to keep you overnight.”

He expected an argument but got no reaction. Cowboy lay watching him listlessly.

Lukas frowned. “It won’t leave as much of a scar as the lion bite did this spring.” He waited for one of the quick, witty replies Cowboy was known for during his many trips to the E.R., but to his amazement the rugged forty-three-year-old man’s eyes filled with sudden tears. For a moment Lukas wondered if maybe he should recheck Cowboy’s vitals and see if someone had slipped him some pain medication by mistake, then the man cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

“The police didn’t tell you, did they?” Cowboy said, his voice husky. “The man who shot me also shot and killed Leonardo.”

Lukas stared at Cowboy and felt his jaw go slack. “Oh no.” Not Leonardo. That cat had become a legend around Knolls, and everybody knew Cowboy loved him fiercely. “I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t know. I had to see about some other patients when the police showed up to get your statement, and since you were stable—”

“Did you ever lose somebody you depended on, Doc?” Cowboy kept his voice low, obviously unwilling for anyone outside the exam room to hear him.

Lukas nodded. “My mother died three years ago.”

Cowboy shook his head and grunted in shared sympathy. He was silent for a moment, then he said, “That lion was my best friend, and Berring just walked onto my ranch and shot him while I was gone. Killed him! I call it murder. How could he get away with that? He’s crazy!”

“Nobody really gets away with anything,” Lukas said. “Not in the end. But I came to tell you something about that, Cowboy. We received word that Berring has been picked up by the police, and they checked his records. He was released from state prison about six months ago after a fifteen-year stint for armed robbery and attempted murder. He’s being held.”

Cowboy stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and lay back. “I’m glad they got him. It doesn’t bring Leonardo back, though.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m sorry.”

Someone knocked at the threshold, then swept inside the curtain without waiting. In stepped tall, redheaded Beverly, off-duty E.R. nurse and Cowboy’s girlfriend for the past four months. In fact, the two had met right here in the emergency department when Cowboy came in with a “love bite” from Leonardo.

“Hey, pardner,” Cowboy greeted Beverly, his voice suddenly back to its usual bass depth, all evidence of grief gone except for the telltale redness in his eyes. “Come to see if I’d died and left that Mustang to you in my will?”

Beverly did not smile. Her usually pale skin flushed with anger as she crossed her arms over her chest. Beverly’s quick temper was even hotter than the color of her hair, which was no surprise to Lukas. He’d borne the brunt of her anger a few months ago. He wondered if he should leave and allow Cowboy to handle it alone.

“You didn’t even call me!” she snapped at Cowboy. “I had to hear about it through the grapevine.” She glanced at Lukas, then lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed. “Hello, Dr. Bower.”

“Hello, Beverly.”

She was silent for a moment, as if wishing Lukas would leave. Or maybe she was too acutely aware of the fact that legally she should not have been called unless Cowboy had requested it, and Cowboy was not the type to ask for emotional support. Someone—probably softhearted, bigmouthed Lauren—had called out of consideration for Beverly, breaking patient confidentiality.

“Jacob Casey,” Beverly said, “do you know what the word macho means? It’s not flattering. I don’t appreciate it that half the town knew about this thing—” she gestured toward the gauze-covered wound “—before I did.”

“Oh, don’t go and get all worked up.” Cowboy reached up with his left hand and patted her arm. “I’ve been hurt worse than this lots of times.”

“What happened to Leonardo?”

Cowboy froze for a moment, clenching and unclenching the muscles in his jaw. “He didn’t fare too well.”

Beverly studied his face, her forest-colored eyes showing compassion and just a hint of frustration. Some of the high color eased from her face. “I’m sorry, Jake.” She glanced at her watch. “The kids will be home in about an hour. I’ll get them and go out to the ranch—”

“Nope.”

She paused. “There you go again. You’re not going to stop me this ti—”

“I don’t want the kids to see him like that, Bev. Call the vet. You know his number.” His voice wobbled just a little. He stopped, swallowed, took a breath. “They’ve got a key to the cage. They’ll take care of him.”

“But I can meet them out there. Let me help—”

Lukas quietly slipped out of the room as their voices continued in gentle argument. Cowboy needed to realize he had other friends besides Leonardo. In the short time they had known each other, Beverly already seemed to be a staunch supporter. Funny how some men could inspire loyalty and some could not, even in the workplace. Maybe that was why, at thirty-five, Lukas remained unmarried.

But could Beverly be trusted to continue her loyalty during Cowboy’s grieving period? She had refused to support Lukas last spring with the treatment of one of their E.R. patients. All he’d wanted her to do was follow accepted hospital protocol when he refused to give narcotics to a drug-seeking patient.

She was supposed to fill out an AMA form stating that the patient, Dwayne Little, had left against medical advice when he realized he wasn’t going to get the narcotic he wanted. Her refusal resulted in a pending lawsuit against Lukas by Dwayne’s father, Bailey Little, president of the hospital board. If not for Mrs. Pinkley, the hospital administrator, Lukas would no longer be working here.

Lukas sighed and went in to check on his other patients.

With the sound of mechanical beeps filling the room behind her, Mercy stood blocking the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at a policeman trying to get past her to Ramón Martínez, who was on a nonrebreather oxygen mask and a cardiac monitor.

“This man is not drunk, Bill,” she said. “We’ve proven that. The alcohol you smelled on his breath came from the toothache medicine he was taking. He accidentally overdosed. He’s sick and he’s in pain. How can you do this to him right now?”

“Dr. Mercy, you know I still have to give him a ticket. People were hurt. I’m required—”

“If you give it to him now, he won’t even understand what’s going on. The interpreter called and canceled on us.”

Bill sighed, tugging at the too-tight collar of his uniform. “I know enough Spanish to explain it to him.”

Mercy felt the tingle of anger work its way up her spine. “You know Spanish, and you didn’t volunteer to interpret when we needed help with him?”

Bill shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, Dr. Mercy. I don’t know that much. Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I’m just trying to do my job. I’m not gonna beat him up or anything. I’ll just give him the ticket and leave you alone.”

Mercy wanted to argue further, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. It would probably make things worse for Ramón. If Bill didn’t give the ticket now, someone else might do it later, and there were a couple of people on the Knolls police force that Mercy wouldn’t trust to haul a dead dog to the pound. Bill was a good guy, just a little too legalistic.

Mercy nodded her consent, gestured for Claudia to stay in the room and stepped down the hallway to Arthur’s room, where she found Lukas and Lauren assisting Arthur into a wheelchair.

“Going somewhere?” she asked, ignoring the sight of Lukas and Lauren with their heads so close together.

“Your walls aren’t soundproof,” Arthur said. “I heard you need an interpreter.”

“But your friends are getting ready to take you to Springfield,” Mercy protested. “I know how badly you want to be with Alma.”

“I’m going soon. Alma would want me to help Mr. Martínez.” He settled back into the chair with a groan. His head was cleanly bandaged, and his arm was in a sling. His voice was still just a little slurred from the effects of the Demerol as he asked Lukas questions about Mr. Martínez.

“I admire your ability to forgive, Arthur,” Mercy said softly.

He looked up at her in surprise. “Forgiveness has nothing to do with it, Dr. Mercy. What happened to us was an accident. There’s no one to blame.”

Mercy shook her head and stood back to let Lukas wheel Arthur out of the room. Was this guy for real? As if unable to help herself, she followed the entourage from the exam room into the hallway.

“I know a man near here who speaks Spanish,” Arthur was telling Lauren. “If you’ll ask my friends to call him, he can come in and interpret when I leave.” When he entered Ramón’s room, he spoke without hesitation, interpreting for the policeman giving the ticket, then more softly, with words of comfort, when Ramón buried his face in his hands.

Mercy stood beside Lukas at the doorway watching the scene. Even high on drugs and obviously still in some pain when he moved too fast, Arthur seemed to have an aura of compassion that surrounded him. She only knew one other person with that kind of presence. She looked at Lukas and found him watching her.

She did not want to look away. What she saw in his gaze as he looked at her was a combination of concern and admiration and something warmer, deeper, an emotion she didn’t dare try to identify.

He touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming over, Mercy,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I know other docs who wouldn’t have come.”

“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you let me finish taking care of this one? You’re still swamped.”

He smiled and nodded. “I do have a date with a broken arm.”

Mercy watched Lukas and Lauren leave, along with the policeman, then she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Ramón’s labored breathing. Through Arthur, she explained to Ramón that he had overdosed on the pain medication for his tooth, and that kept the oxygen from carrying well through his body.

“Tell him this is serious, Arthur, and the drug they are giving him will take care of that, but I need to keep him overnight in the hospital on the telemetry unit.”

She checked the monitor, and it looked good. Ramón still had some shortness of breath, but no chest pain. She checked his painful tooth and had Claudia begin the dosage of methylene blue through an IV to counteract the effects of the drug overdose.

While Arthur translated, Mercy checked Ramón’s neck, belly, squeezed his hips and legs, listened again to his breathing. It could have been a lot worse, but he had a strong constitution. He also seemed to have a strong sense of guilt, and Mercy was glad for Arthur’s attitude of compassion.

She looked at Arthur once more, who continued to talk in soothing tones while she worked. Alma Collins was a lucky woman.