Читать книгу The Baby Doctors - Janice Macdonald - Страница 10

CHAPTER FIVE

LUCY CALLED just as Matthew was leaving the house to pick up Sarah.

“Daddy.” A pause. “Can I come with you to Frugals?”

“I didn’t think you liked it,” Matthew said. “You never want to go when I suggest it.”

“But I do this time.”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Daddy.” Her tone turned wheedling. “I’m hungry now.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m sure you can find something in the house to eat.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, Lulu, I’m running late.”

“To see Sarah?”

“Right.”

“Why can’t I go?”

He frowned. “Lucy, what’s this about?”

“Nothing. I just want to go with you.”

“Not this time.” He could almost feel the sullenness of the silence on her end and, although she’d never shown any interest in the women he occasionally introduced her to, he sensed something different. “But I do want you to meet Sarah. You’re going to like her a lot.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Lucy?”

“What?”

“Come on, honey.”

“I gotta go,” she said.

He heard the disconnect, debated whether to call back, then decided against it. No real reason she couldn’t come along, but it had been years since he’d seen Sarah and, he reasoned, Lucy would be bored listening to them play catch-up.

THE TEST OF A TRUE FRIENDSHIP, he later decided was how easily you could slip back into a natural rhythm. Sarah looked like a slightly older version of the Sarah he’d always known. Skinny bordering on scrawny, the small triangular face and shrewd gray eyes that seemed to bore right through any kind of dissembling. Hair always dated people, but Sarah wore her reddish brown hair just as she always had, in a thick, heavy braid that came halfway down her back. The row of small silver hoops in her ears were new, as were a few lines around the eyes. He could imagine her squinting into the bright sunlight. No sunglasses for Sarah. He’d teased her about the sprinkle of gray and she’d done the same to him.

After they picked up the burgers, they’d driven out to the end of Forbe’s Hook, found a spot on the rocks and watched the sun dissolve into the water.

“So what are your plans now?” he asked as the sky turned to shades of pink and red. “Are you going to stick around for a while?’

Head down, Sarah picked at the threadbare knee of her jeans. “Actually, I am.”

He waited a moment. “And?”

“I have a plan.”

Matthew grinned. “You’ve always had a plan.”

“This is different. This is a grown-up plan. A huge plan. And it involves you.”

As Matthew dug around in the paper sack for more fries, he felt the shift in her mood. Whatever Sarah’s huge plan turned out to be, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear it. Her presence had been a welcome distraction from the looming Compassionate Medical Systems crisis, and he felt a reluctance to be drawn into more serious discussion. He also knew that Sarah in full-steam-ahead mode could be nigh on impossible to stop.

She shot him a glance. “You want to hear it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You sound tired, Matthew.”

“I am.”

“Work?”

“Essentially.” In the gathering darkness, he saw the glimmer of a smile flicker across Sarah’s face. “Don’t tell me, your plan is the solution.”

“It could be.”

He gave in to the inevitable. “Tell me.”

“Okay.” She drew in a breath. “Remember when you first started medical school, you used to talk about the kind of medical practice you wanted to have? Not just treating disease and patients who were already sick, but patient-centered care that promoted wellness with traditional healing arts, home mind-body therapy—”

Matthew groaned.

“What?”

“Tell me I was never that hopelessly naive.”

Sarah turned to face him. Eyes gleaming, body tensed, she seemed a cat poised to pounce. He braced himself.

“Matthew,” she said, “listen to me. There’s nothing naive about that. It’s exactly what I want to do. What I want us both to do. An integrated approach that doesn’t abandon mainstream medicine. I mean, kids are still going to break bones or need surgery…”

Presumably where he came in, he thought, as he listened to her describe the practice they would set up together along with herbalists, hypnotherpists and an assortment of other practitioners.

“Ted used to talk about establishing that kind of practice,” she said. “And when he died, I thought that his dream died with him, but then—” her voice softened “—it was the strangest thing. I was going through a box of old letters that you had sent me when you were in med school and I found this one that almost spelled out word for word the same thing Ted and I were planning to do. That’s when I knew I had to come back.”

Matthew looked out at the water. The ferry from Victoria appeared on the horizon, its lights punctuating the darkness. “Sarah, I don’t know how to say this—”

“Please don’t tell me it won’t work, because—”

“I wasn’t going to say it won’t work. I think it could. I appreciate the fact that medicine is changing. I don’t believe one school of thought offers all the answers. It’s just not going to work for me.”

Sarah took a deep breath. “Why not?”

“For one thing, your timing couldn’t be worse. I’ve spent most of the day in meetings, listening to reasons why Compassionate Medical Systems is the only answer.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t not believe it. CMS has an excellent reputation,” he said, hearing the hollowness in his voice. “And, frankly, the peninsula needs an infusion of cash. We need more doctors, a new hospital, new equipment. That’s never going to happen the way things are now.”

Sarah began picking at the knees of her jeans again. Moments passed. “You’re not thinking of selling out yourself, are you?”

“It’s not selling out, Sarah,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “The bottom line is providing quality care. Olympic can’t do that under the existing structure. The money isn’t there.”

“Wait.” She cupped her hand to her ear. “That sounded suspiciously like an affirmative.” “I haven’t decided yet.” In Sarah’s world, he was remembering now, there were no shades of gray. Black or white. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Fair or unfair. Remembering too the impossibly high standards she expected, from others as much as from herself. There was Sarah’s way of doing things and there was the wrong way. “Just once,” he remembered shouting, after they’d argued about some high-school project they were working on together, “I want to hear you say that something is good enough, that it doesn’t need fine-tuning.”

“I know something about Compassionate Medical Systems,” Sarah said. “When I first left the peninsula, I made the mistake of going to work in one of their hospitals in Seattle. Ted had a similar experience. We both realized it would never work for us. That’s when we decided to go to Central America. I mean, these companies answer to stockholders. I won’t work in an environment where the real focus is money, not patients. Bottom line, money’s going to dictate which doctor you see, how many tests can be run, what medicine you should take. Patients wait months for appointments that used to take days—”

“I can’t decide whether it’s the Frugal burger or this discussion,” Matthew said, “but I’m getting a headache.”

“Sorry.” She stretched her legs out, wriggled her toes in her beat-up sneakers. “I get up on my soapbox and there’s no stopping me.”

“I noticed.”

“Well—” she wrapped her arms around herself “—it’s getting cold. I should probably get going.”

But neither of them moved. Out on the horizon a few stripes of pink cut through the indigo sky. “Things change, Sarah,” he finally said. “Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it’s not so good. But it’s reality. The way things are now, I go to work. Get home, sometimes not till one in the morning. Sleep the night, if I’m lucky. If not, I get a call from the E.R. because they can’t locate the doctor who’s supposed to be on call. I end up spending time on call that I’d rather spend with my daughter—”

“But I don’t understand. You’re chief of staff. Why would they page you?”

He laughed. “We have a chronic physician shortage. No new people coming in, old ones dying off. Right after you left, the mill closed, so one huge source of employment shut down and, well, you know the peninsula. There weren’t that many jobs to begin with. A good percentage of my patients who’d worked at the mill lost their insurance, but I still see them. They’d pay if they had the money, but there are no jobs. All of that makes it harder to attract new physicians.” He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the dark water. “So if it seems like selling out to you, I’m sorry. Idealism is fine, but I also have to make a living.”

After that, they fell into silence again. Sarah, hunched into her windbreaker, her hair hiding her face. The mood had shifted, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Aw, come on,” he said, “it’s not that bad.” The sun had dissolved, turning the sky shades of pink and vermillion against the navy sea. “You don’t get views like this everywhere.”

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Rose stopped by the apartment and, as they were having coffee, announced she was selling the practice. “I was waiting for the right moment, but I didn’t want you to hear about it from someone else.” Sarah stared at her. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re retiring?”

“Compassionate Medical Systems is buying me out. For a very good price, I might add. And take that horrified look off your face.”

“I’m shocked.”

Rose took a deep breath. “Welcome to the real world. The handwriting is on the wall. Sure, I can hold on for a few more years, but it’s like those mom-and-pop stores—like McGregor’s. I remember when I used to do most of my grocery shopping there and I still drop in to pick up milk or something I’ve run out of, but that’s mostly out of loyalty. When I need a lot of groceries I go to Albertsons or Safeway. Everyone does, it’s a fact of life.”

Her hands suddenly icy, Sarah wrapped them around her coffee mug. Rose was going on about managed care being the wave of the future and encouraging her to apply to Compassionate Medical Systems. Sarah flashed back to the time as a kid when she’d saved her allowance to buy her mom a Norman Rockwell print: a country doctor’s office, the small boy baring his bum for the kindly old doctor’s injection.

She could still see Rose’s bemused expression as she unwrapped the gift. Years later, she’d understood. Too sentimental. Generations of Benedicts might have practiced medicine out of the same family home, but they’d never been a Norman Rockwell family. And now that the money was right, Rose was casually parting with tradition. Selling out.

“Sarah, I know this is a disappointment,” Rose said, apparently reading her expression, “but it’s honestly the only way to go. It’s getting harder and harder to make a living this way. More uninsured patients.”

“Someone has to take care of them.”

“Someone also has to make a living,” Rose said. “And if you think I’m being hardhearted, talk to Matthew—”

“I already have.”

“Uh-oh.” Rose’s mouth twisted. “And?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Didn’t I try to tell you?”

After Rose left, Sarah stood in the kitchen, staring out at the gulls and the tankers on the water and the wind-tossed trees. Things did not look promising.

On the wall of her clinic in Central America, she’d tacked up a pain-assessment chart with six cartoonlike faces whose expressions ranged from happy and smiling to great discomfort and unbearable pain. Small kids couldn’t read the captions underneath—annoying, nagging, miserable, horrible, excruciating and so forth—but they knew that a furrowed brow, down-turned mouth and falling tears weren’t good things.

She’d stuck the chart on the refrigerator. Right now, she was definitely among the scowls and grimaces group. Coming back to Port Hamilton was supposed to be like completing a circle. A return to the place where she’d been the happiest, an opportunity to practice medicine with a doctor she admired for his ideals and who was also her best friend.

So much for that.

She made more coffee, carried her mug into the living room, back to the window. Tempted to just go to bed, pull the covers over her head and shut out the world, she was stopped by Rose’s voice in her head mocking her for doing that very thing. She pulled on her sweats and running shoes and jogged down to Francis Street Park, her favorite place in Port Hamilton.

The park was steeply banked with tangles of blackberries on either side and steps running down to the water. Even before she reached the steps, she could see the dark hull of a tanker at anchor, hear the seagulls screech. She felt an almost holiness, like walking into a church.

She took deep, slow breaths, tried to clear her mind. Minutes passed and, slowly, the turbulent thoughts began to subside. She would be all right. Things would work out. She would come up with a new plan. Maybe Matthew wouldn’t have fit into the picture anyway.

They hadn’t always seen eye to eye. Last night was a reminder of that.

In the silence that had fallen between them on the drive back to her apartment, she’d gone through all the things he would never actually say to her about why sharing a practice would never work anyway. He would never say them, because he loved her. Not the way she’d always wanted him to love her, but as a friend whose feelings he wouldn’t want to hurt. You’re too idealistic, Sarah. Too unpredictable. Too…much.

The wind picked up and blew in cold gusts that reached like bony fingers through the fabric of her sweats. She started to run. And this was the memory she wanted to run from now—she’d preached at him. Accused him of abandoning his ideals. Just thinking about it now made her run faster. His expression as he tried to explain was burned on her brain.

Her sneakers slapping the pavement, she continued down the trail. When she reached the ferry terminal, she stood for a moment trying to decide whether to run on to Lopez Hook or head back to the apartment and… what? Send out résumés? Return to Central America? She decided to continue for another ten minutes or so.

“THERE YOU GO.” Elizabeth set a platter of bacon and eggs down in front of the guy at the table by the window. “Can I get you anything else?”

He smiled up at her. “Maybe just a refill.”

She brought the coffeepot over and filled up his mug. If he hadn’t been reading the newspaper, she might have got him talking. She liked to do that, hear people’s stories. Chitchat about the weather. No big heavy stuff, just people being nice to each other.

Back in the kitchen, she stood with her arms folded, watching the gulls in the empty parking lot fight over a scrap of something. No one believed it when she’d taken the job as a waitress at the coffee shop down by the ferry landing. The ex-wife of a doctor, pocketing tips and getting paid minimum wage. But it wasn’t the money—Matt was good about making sure she and Lucy had enough. It was being appreciated. People smiled when she brought their food, they thanked her like they really meant it.

Trouble was, business had slowed down to practically nothing. Now she was the sole employee. Cook, waitress and cleanup crew and she still had time to stand staring out of the window. Time to start feeling sorry for herself, Pearl would say. She looked around for something to do, but the kitchen and all the tables were spotless, so she called home to talk to Lucy. The phone rang five times before the girl picked it up.

“Hi, honey.” Elizabeth smiled into the phone. “Watcha doing?”

“Sleeping,” Lucy said.

“Hon, it’s nearly noon.” As soon as she said it, Elizabeth wanted to take the words back. Everything she said these days made Lucy mad. Being around her was like walking on eggshells. “Why don’t you get dressed and come down here and I’ll make you lunch.”

“Can I come down without getting dressed?”

“Huh? No, I—”

“Joking, Mom,” Lucy said, as if Elizabeth was a child. “I think I would have figured out that I needed to get dressed first.”

Elizabeth felt tears prickle in her nose. Lucy would never talk to Matt like that. Lucy respected Matt, that was the truth of it. And she didn’t respect her mother. She blew her nose. “Okay, suit yourself.”

Through the row of spider plants in macramé hangers that separated the kitchen from the dining room, she could see the guy had finished his breakfast and was looking around the way people did when they wanted to pay their bills.

“I gotta go,” she told Lucy.

“You here visiting?” Elizabeth asked the man as she filled his cup again. He wasn’t one of the regulars, no one she’d seen around town.

“Just for a couple of days.”

“Vacation?”

“I’m a reporter for the Seattle Times. Doing an article on the goings-on at your hospital. Compassionate Medical Systems coming in, shaking things up.” He took a sip of his coffee. “How do you feel about it?”

“I’m all for it.” Elizabeth leaned against the edge of the booth. “My ex is a doctor at the hospital and he’s working himself to death the way things are now. I hear if Compassionate Medical Systems comes in, they’ll bring in more doctors. There’s even talk about building a new hospital, which, God knows, we could use. I was born in that place and I don’t think it’s been remodeled since.”

“Your husband is a doctor there?”

“Ex.”

“What does he think about it?”

“Oh…” She shrugged. “He’s one of those idealistic types. He’d rather work himself to death than bend. But if enough people want it, I don’t think he’ll have much choice.”

She set the check on the table in front of him, and after he left, she went back to the kitchen for a rag and wiped down the already clean tables. Then the door opened on a gust of cold air and a woman came in. Navy sweat suit and baseball cap. No jacket, which meant she was a tourist not used to the local weather. The woman looked at her and then they both did a double take.

“Sarah?”

“Elizabeth! I didn’t know you worked here.”

And then there was an awkward moment when she could see Sarah didn’t know whether to hug her or not, or maybe it was her feeling that way about Sarah who she’d never exactly been on hugging terms with, mostly because Sarah wasn’t the hugging type. But then they both moved forward at the same time and wrapped their arms around each other like long-lost friends.

“I feel bad we haven’t got together since you’ve been back,” Elizabeth said, which wasn’t exactly true, but what the hell. “Every day, I think, okay, I’ve got to call Sarah, but you know how it is.” She plucked at the arm of Sarah’s sweats. “You look frozen to death. How come you’re not wearing a jacket? This is Washington, not…wherever you were. Where was it? Matt told me once, but I forget. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Panama.”

Sarah smiled. “Nicaragua.”

“But weren’t you in Panama? I remember Matt saying something about the canal.”

“I flew into Panama City.” Sarah pulled off the baseball cap, blew into her hands. “And then I went to Nicaragua.” She glanced around. “I had no idea you worked here,” she repeated. “This was my favorite place as a kid. It was a big treat to come here for breakfast before we caught the ferry.”

Elizabeth smiled. Sarah hadn’t changed a whole lot. Same reddish hair that always looked like someone had taken an electric mixer to it, fuzzy and flyaway. Maybe a few wrinkles, but who didn’t have those? And she didn’t look like she weighed any more than she had in high school, which was more than she could say about herself.

“So, you going to have breakfast?”

Sarah seemed to be thinking it over, then she smiled and sat down in one of the booths by the window. “Sure. Why not?”

The phone by the cash register rang.

“The Landing,” Elizabeth answered.

“I’m sorry for being mean,” Lucy said.

“Aw, honey.” Elizabeth set down the menu she’d picked up for Sarah. “Are you crying?”

“Yeah. I feel sad.”

“Oh, Lulu.” Elizabeth wiped her own eyes. “How come?”

“I don’t know, I just do.” A pause. “Dad called. He was supposed to take me to the mall to get fabric for my costume and now he can’t go.”

“Well, I can take you. As soon as I get off work. We’ll go to the mall and go to the Olive Garden afterward. Mmm, that artichoke dip you like. And lots of bread sticks? How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Lucy said in a small voice. “But I kind of wanted Dad to take me.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “How come he can’t?”

“I don’t know. Something at the hospital.”

“I’ll talk to him, sweetie—okay?” Elizabeth signaled to Sarah that she’d be right there. “Cheer up.”

She hung up the phone, grabbed a menu and set it down in front of Sarah. She poured coffee without asking because she remembered Sarah had always been a coffee fiend and she was pretty sure that hadn’t changed. “The omelets are good.” She watched Sarah scan the menu. “So are the scrambles. Especially the shrimp and crab.”

Sarah looked up at her and smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“I’m running the show,” Elizabeth said. “Meaning, I’m the cook, too. Come back and talk to me while I fix your food. Bring your coffee. I think I’ll have some, too.”

She poured herself a cup, got eggs and two stainless steel containers of vegetables she’d chopped earlier and set them down by the stove. “So how were your cheeseburgers last night?” she said as she scrambled the eggs.

“Cheeseburgers?” Arms folded across her chest, Sarah stood off to one side watching. “Oh, Matthew told you—”

“Matthew never tells me anything,” Elizabeth said. “Lucy told me. My daughter,” she added. “Well, Matt’s daughter, too. She’s definitely a daddy’s girl. Twists him around her little finger like he’s made of putty. He probably talked your ear off about her, right?” “We started talking shop,” Sarah said, “and that pretty much took up the evening.” She drank some coffee, set the mug down. “So anyway, how old is your daughter?”

“Fourteen,” Elizabeth said. “And…” She stared hard at the chopped pieces of red bell pepper and onions in the frying pan and then, just like in the Safeway, felt the tears start up. “Sorry. Ignore me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me….”

“Sounds about the same way I’m feeling right now,” Sarah said.

Elizabeth glanced at her, but it had always been difficult to tell what was really going on with Sarah. She slid a spatula under the eggs. “You want cheese, right?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the container of grated mozzarella from the refrigerator. “You got any ideas why a girl who is loved to distraction by both her parents would rather have a root canal than spend time with her mother, but thinks her father can do no wrong and goes to pieces when she can’t be with him?”