Sacred Trust (23 page)

Tedi cringed. “He told you what I said?”

“I'm the legal guardian, in case you can't remember that, and it's not going to change. I have every right to know what you tell him. If I hear one more time that you're going to go live with your mother, I'll see to it you never see her again.” Another shake. “Do you hear me?”

Tedi's chin quivered. She tried to answer, but she couldn't find her voice.

“I'll put her in the mental ward again. It's where she belongs anyway. I'll ruin her name in this whole county. She'll never practice medicine again. And don't tell me I wouldn't do it. I can make a living for us on my own. I don't depend on your mother's money. Besides, if you go live with her, the money will stop anyway. What've I got to lose?”

Tedi shook her head. He couldn't do those things, could he?

He jerked her by the shoulders again, but this time she was too numb to feel it.

“What happened to your smart mouth?” he demanded.
“It was working fine a minute ago. It was working fine this morning when you spilled your guts to Nick, wasn't it?”

Tedi couldn't stop shaking, and she couldn't make her voice work.

He shook her harder. “Answer me!”

Sobs rose in her throat. She nodded.

“You told him everything, didn't you?”

“H-he d-didn't believe me,” she managed at last.

Another jerk. “What didn't he believe?” This time he forced her to within three inches of his face.

Her face crumpled with sobs. “Stop it, Daddy! Please! I'm scared.”

“You should be. What did you tell him?” He shook her again.

“D-didn't he tell you?”

“Refresh my memory.”

“J-just that…I spent the night alone.” She could barely hear her own voice.

“What? Speak up! I can't hear you.” He shouted so loudly it made her ears ring.

She took a deep breath and tried to straighten her shoulders. He just held tighter.

“I told him that I spent the…the night alone.”

“What else?”

“That I was afraid of you because…you might get d-drunk and hit me.”

His hold loosened on her shoulders for a moment, as if in surprise. “What else?”

“I told him…”

His hands tightened again. It felt like he was ripping her shoulders off. “What?”

“That I thought…” She couldn't say it. Her voice just wouldn't come.

“You thought what?” He released her right shoulder, and his hand came up to poise threateningly above her face. “What?”

She glanced in fear at the hand. “That I thought you'd kill me, Daddy!”

He released her and straightened. The shock on his face told her that Nick hadn't told him that. He paled, then once again the color returned.

Tedi took a step back. Fury filled his expression again, and he lunged for her.

She screamed, threw her book bag at him and turned to run. She reached the stairs and started up them. Dad grabbed at her arm and caught her sleeve. It ripped as she jerked away, still screaming as loudly as she could. The neighbors would hear. They would call the police.

She darted into her bedroom and slammed the door, then locked it and pushed a chair in front of it.

A loud thump filled the room when Dad hit the door with his body. The wood of the door crackled but held.

“Let me in this door, or I'll break it down!”

“No! The neighbors'll call the police!” she shouted past chattering teeth.

“Oh, yeah? Who're they going to believe? A kid, or her dad?” The doorknob rattled; then his weight hit the door again.

Tedi screamed.

Dad's fists pounded the wood. “They won't believe your mother, either.”

Tedi tried to take a deep breath, but she was shaking so badly she couldn't get much air. Could he really ruin
Mom? Could he put her in the hospital again? Tears flowed freely down Tedi's face, and she hiccuped with sobs.

Everything grew quiet for a moment except for Tedi's crying; then Dad pounded the door hard one last time. “Okay, stay in there. I don't care if you starve to death!” She heard him back away from the door. “But remember this, kid. If you say anything to your mother or grandmother about this, you'll never see them again. Do you hear me? And it will be your fault.”

She couldn't answer. Her sobs came so fast she could barely breathe.

“And I don't want to go to court again. If I do, I'll tear your mother to shreds. She doesn't want you anyway. She's just worried about what people are saying because she lost custody of her child.”

Tedi shook her head. It couldn't be true, could it? What could he do to Mom? Could he really put her back in the hospital? The way he was acting right now, he might hurt her, run her over with a car or something, or even hurt Grandma. He was the crazy one.

Finally she heard him go down the steps and out the front door. Still trembling, she went to the window and saw him get into the car and back out of the drive. He drove away.

Still fighting for breath past her crying, Tedi removed the chair and unlocked the door. On shaking legs she went downstairs and to the front door. She looked outside one last time, just to make sure Dad hadn't changed his mind and come back. The drive was empty. She walked into the family room, sat down on the couch, and picked up the telephone receiver. She dialed Mom's number by memory and waited.

“Hello.”

“Mom?” Tedi couldn't help it. Sobs shook her again. She caught her breath and tried to stop it, but her body wouldn't cooperate.

“Yes, sweetheart, what is it? What's wrong?”

She had to stop crying. She couldn't let Mom guess what was happening. She sniffed again and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“Tedi?” Mom's voice sounded so warm and secure and close. “Talk to me, honey. Are you okay? What's—”

“I'm okay, Mom. It's just…I just…Oh, Mom, don't do it. Don't take Dad to court. I've changed my mind. I want…” She couldn't say it. It was such a horrible lie. She wanted to live with Mom so badly.

“Tedi, tell me what's going on. Talk to me. Why are you crying? Why have you suddenly changed your mind? Has your father—”

“Please, Mom! I just…don't…want to hurt your feelings.” Her throat closed up again. She was lying! But she had to. She had to protect Mom and Grandma…and herself. “That's all. I love you, and I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I want to stay here. It's…home.”

There was a moment of silence, and Tedi felt a rush of fear. Did Mom guess she was lying? Did she know from Tedi's voice what was really happening?

“Tedi, are you sure about this?” Mercy's voice was quiet and sad.

Tedi felt so horrible. She hated Theo Zimmerman. Hated him! “Yeah, Mom. I just miss you, that's all. I want to stay here, but I wish I could see you more.”

Then suddenly there was a tone of suspicion in Mom's voice. “Did the counselor talk you into this?”

“No. I got tired of talking to him and left early. I'm sorry. I wasted money.”

“It's okay, honey. I just wanted you to be able to talk to someone you could trust. If you felt you couldn't trust this person, I don't blame you for leaving. We'll find someone else for you. Do you want me to try to get more visitation rights?”

Another pause. “No. Don't go back to court. It'll just drag things out.”

Mercy sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”
No, Mom! I want to live with you forever! I hate him.
“I've got to go do my homework now. I'll see you soon.”

“Okay, Tedi.”

“Don't be too disappointed, Mom.”

“I'll be okay. How about you?”

“I'm…fine. I've just got homework. Bye, Mom.” Her voice shook. Her whole body shook, and she couldn't make it stop.

“Goodbye, Tedi. I love you. Never forget that. Nothing will change that, ever.”

Tedi sniffed, then hiccuped, then hung up the phone and fell across the sofa with fresh sobs.

 

Late Thursday night a sober but hungover Theo unlocked the front door of his home and stepped inside. No lights had shone from Tedi's upstairs bedroom window, and he hadn't expected any. Was she even here? He didn't want to go up and check her room and possibly terrify her again. He'd done enough damage for one day.

He'd spent the whole afternoon sitting in his office cubicle, staring at the wall and listening to the phone ring over and over and over again, both his office and cell
phone. He couldn't forget his own daughter's screams, or the fact that he'd been the one to cause them.

This time he had to lay off the booze. He had to.

He'd drunk three pots of coffee and forced down three Big Macs and waited for Mercy to walk through the office door and start blasting away at him with a sawed-off shotgun. Or maybe she would come at him with a knife—she had a more hands-on style. He'd picked up the phone to call her once and maybe initiate some damage control, but he hadn't even had the guts to dial.

Now he was tired of waiting and wondering. He went into the den, pulled out his keys, and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. Inside was a small gray recorder connected to the telephone system. He'd installed this thing months ago but had only activated it this morning after Nick warned him that Mercy might try to take him back to court for custody of Tedi. He pressed the button, sat back and listened.

A
week passed in peaceful, though sad, busyness for Mercy. She told herself that she could understand why Tedi wanted to stay in the home she'd known most of her life, but the rejection still stung. Security was important to a child, but Mercy couldn't help feeling just a little sorry for herself when she watched her own mother prepare for a hiking trip to Colorado. Everybody else had a life, but Mercy still felt stuck on hold, unworthy to even care for her own child. There was only so far she could bury herself in her work without total burnout, and sometimes her free hours weighed heavily—not that she would ever put the burden of her own social needs onto Tedi. A nasty little voice reminded her several times throughout the week that she was the one who chose not to have a social life. She'd countered with the argument that she'd prefer boredom and loneliness over marriage. After all, how many happy marriages had she witnessed in her lifetime? Few.

Josie, her disgustingly in-love nurse, constantly preached about the joys of being married to “the right
man.” “Oh, yeah?” Mercy had said. “And what happens when the ‘right man' turns out to be a jerk in disguise? They don't show their real colors until after marriage.”

Josie had smiled and said, “If you both belong to Christ and put Him first, then He will guide your marriage. A long courtship also helps, so you can make sure the guy really does belong to Christ and he's not just faking. Take a year or two to get to know the guy.”

Mercy thought again about those words as she drove into the Knolls Community Hospital doctors' parking lot Thursday morning. She'd gone to high school with Theo but hadn't married him until she was twenty-nine. She had just moved back home after residency training in Tulsa when they became reacquainted at a high school football homecoming. They were married the next spring. Neither of them “belonged” to Christ. Mercy wasn't even sure what that meant, although she was sure Mom or Josie or Lukas would be happy to tell her.

It was obvious to her now that she'd never really known Theodore Zimmerman. The problem was, how could she have? No chemical company had come out with a litmus test for potential marriage partners. She couldn't trust her own discernment. Therefore, it was best to learn from past mistakes and leave the choice of matrimony to wiser, or more foolhardy, women.

She sighed as she wrapped her stethoscope over her shoulders and picked up her bag from the seat. It did no good to think about the past and wonder what might have been if she'd met the right man. She hadn't. She'd tried and lost.

Still, she thought as she walked into the quiet E.R., she had to stop dismissing all men as worthless. Some even showed signs of integrity—Lukas, for instance. His transparency ran deep. He was awkward and clumsy on a date,
and he obviously had little experience where women were concerned. That was probably because he'd spent all of his time studying and working and discovering how to be the best doctor he could be. There was an inner peace about him, a kind of joy that he radiated to his patients, even though he also betrayed loneliness at times. Every patient of Mercy's that he had seen in the E.R. had nothing but praise for him about his gentleness, his caring and the amount of time he spent with them. He was obviously a patient advocate.

Granted, one good man out of twenty was a pretty poor representation, but it was enough to give Mercy hope that they weren't all duds. Speak of the devil, Lukas was sitting at the main desk doing charts when Mercy entered. He looked sleepy.

“Got a patient for me?” she greeted.

“Just dismissing the last one. Strep.” He looked up at her and smiled. “How're you doing?” he asked. “I haven't seen you for a week.”

“Don't ask.” Mercy set her bag down and took another chair beside Lukas. “What have you heard about the Knights? I trust you've called to check on them as you said you would.”

“Yes, twice, in fact.” Lukas slid his stack of charts toward Carol. “The first time I called on Saturday, Darlene told me she felt better and that Clarence was complaining because he was wearing out the floor to the bathroom.”

“Good.” Mercy leaned back in her chair and rested her feet on an open file drawer. “That probably means he's taking the Lasix and that it's working.”

“She said he was.”

“And the metformin?”

“Apparently he's being compliant.”

Mercy whistled. “Amazing. Who'd'a thunk it?”

“There's more.” Lukas's grin widened.

For the first time, Mercy noticed the cleft of his chin and the firm line of his jawbone.
Stop it, Mercy!
“More?”

“Yes, remember I told you I called twice. The second time I called on Monday, Darlene told me Clarence had reduced his own food rations, and so far he was sticking to it. She also caught him exercising his arms in cadence to the music coming from that ancient black-and-white television in his room. He stopped when he saw her, but she was encouraged. So am I.”

“What do you think about drugs to suppress his appetite?” Mercy asked.

“If he had his stomach stapled, we wouldn't have to worry about drugs.” Lukas shook his head. “Unfortunately, I don't think either of us can afford an expense like that, and he sure can't.”

“No, but he's moving in the right direction.”

The phone rang. Carol answered, then glanced at Lukas. “Yes, Mrs. Pinkley, he's right here.” There was a pause, and she frowned. “Yes, I'll tell him.” She hung up the phone. “Dr. Bower, Mrs. Pinkley wants to see you in her office before you leave.”

Lukas groaned. “So much for sleep.”

After Lukas left, Mercy changed into her scrubs and walked back out to find Lauren McCaffrey deep in conversation with Carol. They fell silent for just a moment when Mercy joined them, which surprised her, because the female staff usually spoke more freely with her than they did with the male doctors.

Lauren hesitated, then said, “Dr. Mercy, how do you feel about Dr. Bower?”

Mercy shot her a suspicious glance. Lauren had seen
her pick up Lukas the other day when they went to visit Clarence, and Mercy had seen the disappointment clearly on the woman's face. “Oh, no, don't you start, too. Josie's bad enough.”

Lauren blushed, though she continued to watch Mercy's expression with more than casual interest. “I meant, professionally.”

“Oh. Of course. I think Dr. Bower is a dedicated physician. I've heard a lot of good things about him from staff. How do you feel about him?”

The nurse and the secretary glanced at each other again.

“I like working with him,” Carol volunteered. “He doesn't mind helping the nurses out when they're busy, and he makes sure we understand his orders.”

“I hear the patients like him, too,” Mercy said.

“We think Dr. Bower is going to lose his job,” Lauren said despondently.

“Why would you think that?” Mercy exclaimed.

“Because of Dr. George,” Lauren said.

“Do you think anyone's going to listen to him, knowing how he feels about Dr. Bower?”

Lauren raised a delicate blond eyebrow at her. “Every time I have a shift with Dr. Bower, Dr. George comes to me with the charts for that shift and nitpicks everything everyone did. He even blames me for following all of Dr. Bower's orders.”

Mercy scowled. How unprofessional! “Do you think Dr. Bower uses poor medical judgment?”

“No, but Dr. George has clout, and he could get at Dr. Bower indirectly. He could get me fired if he wanted to.”

“How?”

“He's friends with Fern Davis, the director of nursing. She can dismiss me for any reason she wants. One of the
nurses on the floor got fired last week without any explanation. She thinks it's because she wouldn't go to work for Dr. George in his office practice.”

Mercy rolled her eyes. Jarvis was becoming more and more obnoxious.

Lauren hesitated, bit her lip and grimaced. “I've had a couple of patients come in and when they found out the doctor on duty was Dr. Bower, they refused to be treated by him.”

Mercy felt her irritation build. “Did they explain why?”

“No, but they were Dr. George's patients. I think Dr. Bower is being stabbed in the back, and I don't like it.”

Right then the door opened, and a man walked in. His left hand was clumsily wrapped, and blood seeped through the bandage.

“Time to get to work,” Mercy said.

Lauren leaned toward her. “I hope Mrs. Pinkley didn't call Dr. Bower up to fire—” She broke off, shaking her head. “Sorry, I'm not trying to spread rumors.”

 

The third floor of Knolls Community Hospital did not look like a hospital. With its plush carpeting and decorated walls, it could have passed for a high-dollar attorney's office. It was the administration floor. In the three and a half weeks Lukas had been at Knolls, he'd had two occasions to visit there, and the atmosphere made him feel uncomfortable. The clerks, secretaries and department directors stared at him when he walked by. No one smiled.

Mrs. Pinkley's secretary, Charlotte, seemed to be the only one who knew how to move her lips, and the smile barely touched her eyes. “She's waiting for you, Dr. Bower,” she said, studying him carefully.

For a moment he considered hunting for a mirror to see if he had blood on his face or if his hair was sticking up, but in uncomfortable situations he liked the old adage “Never let 'em see you sweat.” He thanked her, straightened his shoulders and opened the door in front of him. It was a closet. He turned back around to see her pointing toward a second, wider door.

Without another word he walked through the door into an even plusher office decorated in tones of pale green, pink and taupe.

Mrs. Pinkley remained seated behind her broad desk and watched him enter. She must be nearing seventy. She had white hair that was cut short and feathered straight back. No nonsense. Intimidating, yet still, somehow, feminine. Lukas had liked her immediately upon meeting her for his first interview.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Dr. Bower,” she said in her deep, gravelly voice. She sounded like a smoker, but everyone knew she was not.

She did not offer a handshake, which was good because their hands probably wouldn't have reached each other across the broad expanse of the desk. She didn't smile, either. “I realize I'm cutting into your sleep time, so I'll do away with formalities and try to keep this meeting short. Please be seated.”

Lukas had already done so.

She indicated a stack of file folders on her desk. “These are charts on some of the patients you've treated since you came to work for us.” She pulled up the reading glasses from a chain around her neck and cradled them on her nose. She picked up a chart, opened it and read a sticky note that had been attached to the inside cover. “One of my least favorite jobs is handling patient com
plaints. I don't get as many of them as I did before we added improvements to the hospital three years ago. Census is up, and we're doing well.” She patted the stack. “These are on you, Dr. Bower.” She paused and looked at him over the top of her glasses.

He stared back at her. “They're patient complaints?”

“Specific patients, yes. One of them is Ruby Taylor. She complains every time she's in the hospital. It doesn't matter to her that if not for your quick action, she could be dead now. I also have a complaint that you did not follow proper transfer procedures when you sent her to Springfield.”

“I tried.”

“I know. I read the file. I'm ignoring the complaint.” She picked up a sheet of paper. “Two of the complaints I received by telephone don't match charts because the patients never even checked in. These two women were very displeased that you chastised them for Medicaid abuse and forced them to buy their head lice shampoo without a script.” She looked again over her glasses. “Let me point out that I have not worded the complaint with the colorful jargon they used.” There was a hint of a smile that disappeared quickly. “Another report is from Dwayne Little.” She stopped and settled back in luxurious leather.

“I'm not surprised,” Lukas said.

“Nor I, but this one could turn into a great deal of trouble before his father finishes with us. Bailey Little is not a man with whom you would want to tangle.”

Lukas liked the “us” bit. In KC it had been him against the hospital, from the administrator on down. “I hear Mr. Little's father is president of the hospital board.”

Mrs. Pinkley held Lukas's gaze. “Too bad you weren't aware of that before you chased him out of the E.R.”

“I was.” Lukas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was happening again. “I warned you before I started that I wasn't very good at hospital politics.”

“Yes, you did. That was one of the many qualities that attracted me to you as an excellent candidate for your position. I don't like drug pushers, be they working through legal or illegal channels. People who abuse drugs need help, not more drugs from political doctors. I despise Medicaid abuse, Medicare abuse, insurance abuse of any kind. We have a problem on our hands, however, because Dwayne Little's daddy is threatening to sue. What's worse, he's threatening to report us on a possible COBRA violation on this thing if I don't fire you.”