River's End (9781426761140) (25 page)

“No doubt.” Now he asked her to hold.

While waiting, Anna tried to decide what to do. What if Sarah's illness was life-threatening? Wouldn't it be better to force her into a hospital than to respect her wishes for natural treatments?

“Anna?” Dr. Albers interrupted her thoughts. “How about if I come out there?”

“A house call?” Anna was stunned.

“I just checked with my nurse, and I only have two more appointments today. I could come out there this afternoon if you like.”

“You would do that?”

“Sure. That is if Clark can pick me up.”

“He'll be happy to.”

“Tell him to meet me at the dock at two.”

She thanked him several times then hung up and ran to find Clark.

“I'm going to owe him several fishing trips for this,” Clark told her.

“I'd gladly take him myself,” Anna said.

It was close to three when Clark returned with Dr. Albers, and by that time, Sarah was starting to feel much worse. Thankfully, this reduced her resistance to Dr. Albers. She was in too much discomfort to protest.

Anna tried to busy herself in the kitchen by making ginger snaps and a fresh pot of coffee, but by the time Dr. Albers emerged from Sarah's room, Anna was on pins and needles.

“Something smells good out here,” he said.

She offered him coffee and cookies, and as they sat down at the kitchen table, she asked how Sarah was.

His brow creased slightly. “You're right, she's in bad shape. I want to send some samples to the lab, but I'm fairly certain she has a kidney infection.” He pulled a packet of pills from his jacket pocket and handed them to her. “These are samples of an antibiotic I brought along just in case. I already started her on them, and I'll have my nurse call in a prescription for you to pick up tomorrow.”

Anna felt relieved. “So that's all then?”

He shook his head. “No, I don't think so. I suspect she has hepatitis as well.”

“Hepatitis?” Anna wasn't sure of all the ramifications, but she knew this was not a simple diagnosis.

“Yes. I hope I'm wrong. But she has all the symptoms, and based on how she answered some of my questions and her life these past couple of years, well, I think it's highly likely.” He frowned. “It's not uncommon in some of these communes. Poor health standards and whatnot.”

“Oh.” Anna sighed. “What does that mean? What's the treatment?”

He explained that there wasn't medication for it. “Mostly you treat the symptoms. You try to keep the patient comfortable. And usually they improve over time with plenty of rest and a healthy diet. Lots of clear fluids to help the liver repair itself.”

“Herbal teas?”

“Yes. I'm sure you have some good ideas for that.” Then he went over a list of things she shouldn't have. “Also, I told her, and you need to know as well, that she needs to be very careful of hygiene, and you can't allow her to work for the inn until she's completely recovered. Hepatitis is contagious, but if she's cautious, it should be no problem. However, if word got around that she has it . . . well, you know, it could hurt business.”

Anna nodded. “We'll keep that in mind.”

He smiled. “But, really, if Sarah gets plenty of rest—and no strenuous exercise—and wholesome food and lots of fluids, she should be back to normal by, say, springtime.”

“That long?”

“The liver takes time to heal, Anna. And having the kidney problem on top of this.” He reached for another cookie. “Well, it's a good thing you called, Anna. That girl could've very well been hospitalized if a few more days had gone by without antibiotics. The combination of hepatitis and kidney infections, well, it could've turned lethal. I told Sarah she's lucky she didn't end up in the hospital, and if she doesn't take care, she will yet.”

“Will she feel better soon?”

“She should start feeling better in twenty-four hours. But keep those clear fluids going.” He listed off some juices that might be helpful then held up a cookie. “And get some good food into her as soon as her appetite returns. The poor kid looks half-starved.”

Anna walked him down to the dock where Clark was working on a boat engine. “I don't even know how to thank you for coming out here like this,” she said.

“Well, it's Christmas.” He shrugged. “Besides it's always fun to come up the river and see this place.” He looked around. “You and Clark sure have the good life.”

Anna laughed. “It didn't feel too good yesterday.”

“No, I expect it didn't. Just be glad you got her out of there when you did.”

“We are.” She paused on the dock and thanked him again.

“And like I told Anna,” Clark said as he joined them. “I expect that besides your bill, I will have to take you on a few deep-sea fishing trips.”

Dr. Albers grinned. “Sounds like a deal to me.”

Clark asked about Sarah, and they filled him in. Then Anna hurried back to the house to check on her. She knew that, despite the doctor's visit, Sarah was not out of the woods yet. Jewel met her at the foot of the stairs. “Is she going to be okay?”

As they went upstairs, Anna told Jewel about the diagnosis and recommended treatment. “And Sarah isn't supposed to help with the inn for a few months either,” Anna said as they went inside, explaining about the contagious factor. “The doctor let her know, too. Mostly she'll just need to rest and recuperate.” Anna filled another glass of apple cider and put a couple of still-warm cookies on a plate. “I want to check on her now.”

“Do you want me to call Lauren?” Jewel offered. “I know she's anxious to hear.”

“Yes.” Anna nodded. “I completely forgot. And tell her I'll call her later with more information.”

“Should I invite her to come for dinner?”

Anna considered this. It seemed unlikely that Sarah would leave her room today. “Yes,” she said. “I think that will be all
right.” As she opened the door to Sarah's room, it hit her—how quickly things had changed again. One day, she and Clark plan to spend Christmas alone, the next day they have both Sarah and Lauren back with them. But these were good changes . . . or at least they would be good . . . eventually.

The days before Christmas were quiet and subdued at the inn. Although Sarah was somewhat improved after a day of antibiotics, she was still in need of round-the-clock care. Between the pain, bouts of nausea, and mood swings, she was at best unpredictable. For that reason, the three women—Anna, Jewel, and Lauren—split Sarah's days into three shifts. Anna took the first shift, then Jewel handled the late afternoon into evening, and then around midnight, after Sarah was asleep, Lauren would step in.

“She opened her eyes and saw me last night,” Lauren told Anna as they were fixing dinner together. “The full moon was coming through the window, and I'm sure she knew who I was.” It was Christmas Eve and Sarah was finally starting to show signs of being able to come out of her room.

“Did she react?” Anna paused from mashing the potatoes.

Lauren shrugged. “She just kind of moaned then rolled over.”

“She hasn't said anything to me . . . to hint that she knows you're here.” Anna dropped a clump of butter into the potatoes, then continued mashing.

“But when she does?”

“We'll deal with it.”

“I wish there was something I could do,” Lauren said sadly, “to change how she feels about me. I love her so much, Mom. I know what a failure I've been as a mom. I know I let her down a million times when she was growing up. I want to make it up to her. But I just don't know how.”

“Just keep doing what you're doing, Lauren. In time, Sarah will figure it out.”

“I don't know . . .”

“It's going to take time,” Anna told her, “but eventually, she will come around.”

“I want to believe that, but it's hard.”

Anna knew it was hard. She knew it was taking a toll on Lauren. She would see Lauren out walking by the river in the early-morning fog sometimes. She would raise her arms up and down as if she was having a conversation—perhaps she was praying—and then eventually, she would get in a boat and head on back over to Babette's house, where she was living all alone. It made Anna sad. And yet what could she do?

Christmas came and went, and when Sarah finally became strong enough to venture from her room, and no longer seemed to need round-the-clock care and supervision, Anna encouraged Lauren to return to her apartment in Eugene. “At least you have friends there,” she told her. “You're so isolated here. And Sarah isn't ready . . . yet.”

Lauren nodded. “And I decided I should look for a job for next semester.”

“A job? But you have the scholarship money to live on. Why do you need a job?”

“Because I need something to do,” Lauren said in an aggravated tone. “The classes are good, but I have too much spare time, Mom. I need something to occupy myself. I spent so
much time looking for Sarah last semester. I'll go crazy with nothing but classes and homework.”

Anna smiled. “Well, it seems you have it all figured out, darling. And it sounds like a good plan.”

Lauren looked relieved.

“I'll keep you apprised about Sarah.”

Lauren thanked her. And the next day, Lauren was gone. And Anna was thankful that Lauren had figured something out to fill her time and her days. Anna felt badly for her daughter, and a part of her wanted to reach out and help her, to fix it somehow. But another part of her knew she needed to keep letting go. Lauren needed to paddle her own canoe.

As Sarah's health improved, she became more bored and wanted to talk. And yet, her energy was so depleted that she couldn't even talk for long without tiring. So it was that Anna began telling her stories. First she told her the old story of how Grandma Pearl and her sister had been forced to walk north up the beach with the rest of the Siuslaw Indians.

“At least they had each other,” Sarah said from where she was resting on the sofa with an old quilt over her legs.

Anna considered this. “You know, you're right. I never quite thought of it like that. I've always thought of the hardship and deprivation . . . and how unjust it was to drive them up there like cattle . . . how so many of them died.”

“Well, that was wrong.” Sarah frowned. “I wasn't saying . . .”

“I know.” Anna nodded. “But you do raise an interesting point. At least they had each other.” She sighed. “I think that's what I was missing this past fall.”

“What?”

“Each other.” Anna set down the patchwork piece she was working. “It felt like everyone had left. First you . . . then Lauren . . . and then Hazel.”

“I still miss her.” Sarah looked close to tears now.

“She lived a good life. And one of the last things she told me was that she hoped you would get her cabin. Grandma Pearl's cabin.”

Sarah's eyes lit up. “Really?”

“And it's yours . . . if you want it.”

“All mine?” Sarah's voice sounded almost like she was twelve again. “Really? I don't have to share it with guests or anything?”

“It is all yours,” Anna assured her. “One hundred percent. You can even change the locks if you like.”

Sarah laughed. “No, I don't have to do that.”

“But back to what you said, Sarah. I think that's a problem in our world today. We don't have that sense of family . . . of community . . . of tribe . . . not like they used to have back in the old days.”

“But you have your friends on the river—and guests at the inn. They love you, Grandma.”

“And I love them. But they constantly change . . . coming and going.”

Sarah seemed to consider this.

“I suppose I hoped for more from my own family. Then I realized I had to let them go, too. I can't control you . . . or Lauren.” Now Anna told Sarah about what Hazel had said about the women in their family, how they all had their own trail of tears to walk. “In fact, I remember the day Hazel told me to tell you about that.”

“Really?”

Anna tried to recall. “I was on my way to get you from that commune down by Medford, and Hazel was encouraging me. But you weren't there.”

Sarah sighed. “Yes. Jewel filled me in on that. I'd left with Aaron and Misty and the others.”

“Where were you going?”

Sarah bit her lip.

“I know you'd planned to meet up with some guru from India,” Anna supplied.

“That was the original plan. But he never showed up at the place.”

“The place where we got you in California?”

“No. Another place. A house down in the Bay Area. We waited there for several weeks. But we were running out of food and money. We found out the guru was still in India. It kind of started to fall apart then. Some of us were panhandling to get by. Then I got too sick to even do that. Some of our group was approached by the Peoples Temple. They were getting ready to go down there to work on the farm in Guyana.”

Anna's stomach clenched. “Some of your friends joined the Peoples Temple?”

Sarah nodded. “I think so. I was going to go with them, but I started getting sick, and they wouldn't let me go. Aaron and Misty heard about this other place—where you and Grandpa got me—they took me up there. But I just got sicker.”

“So, because of your illness, you were unable to leave the country?” Anna tried to keep her voice even. “Which is why we were able to find you?”

“Yeah. Maybe it was a good thing.”

Anna took a deep breath. “Yes . . . maybe so.” She could tell that Sarah had no idea of what had happened in Jonestown. And maybe she would tell her someday. But not now. There was no point in upsetting her about this now. Sarah wondered which of Sarah's friends had gone down there. Aaron and Misty?