The Riches of Mercy (7 page)

Natalie shook his hand. Dry and leathery, but steady.

He set his coffee down on her table. "Mind if I have a look at your leg?"

"Only if you buy me dinner first," she said.

"I brought barbeque down from our church fundraiser. It's in the staff fridge for you."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Best barbeque in North Carolina."

Wheeler grunted.

Bhatti winked.

Natalie drew back the blanket over her leg. Colleen had helped her shave, not over the damaged flesh, but her calves and the other leg, so at least she looked presentable. The doctor didn’t care about the dark hairs her ancestors brought over for her DNA strands, but she cared.

Colleen offered to shave the rest of her, too, but Natalie was too nervous about the appointment to even think about her armpits. Maybe if Bhatti wanted to prod her lymph nodes, she'd regret it.

"How are you feeling today?" Bhatti pulled up a chair and leaned against the arm.

"Okay," Natalie said.

The midnight feeding of Tylenol helped--it was true what they said about hospitals and Tylenol--but the soreness was never-ending, and every so often a sharp pain would overtake her. If she moved too quickly, or if something on the television made her excited or sad, or even for no reason, sharp pain would rush through her and leave her breathless.

"Sprains?" Bhatti asked.

Natalie opened her mouth but Wheeler fielded the question. "Shoulder, knee, ankle. We were afraid of an ACL tear but it's just dislocation."

"But you think the tissue damage is severe," Bhatti said.

"We're afraid the major arteries were crushed and have lost integrity. Internal bleeding in her leg is a concern."

"May I see your abdomen?" Bhatti asked.

She hadn't been able to do anything about the standard-issue cotton panties she wore, or the tattoo of Pravda written in Cyrillic, the result of a drunken all night study session before her Criminal Justice final at law school, which she was far too proud of as long as no one but her saw it.

Now Bhatti did, gently opening her gown. He didn't comment on the ink, but instead asked, "What are you eating these days?"

"They won't let me have steak."

"But almost everything else. No complaints of stomach aches or intestinal distress," Wheeler said.

"Soreness?"

"When I eat?"

"Yes?"

"No. But I thought that might be because of the medication."

Bhatti nodded. "It might be." He stood back and Natalie closed her gown.

"I'm going to examine at the scans and x-rays of your leg, all right? I've seen them up at Duke, but I want to get Doctor Wheeler's perspective."

"Okay," she said.

"Move your toes for me?" he asked.

She wiggled her foot. It hurt, but she grimaced and said nothing.

He patted her foot, through the blanket, and then he and Wheeler left.

Natalie turned the television back on and tried not to cry. Doctors frightened her. Nausea gurgled in her stomach. Maybe the food she ate was secretly damaging her.

Colleen slipped back in. "What'd they say?"

"Nothing. Not yet."

Colleen settled into the chair. "There's pork for you in the fridge. God, I hate you."

"You hate God, or is that an inflective?" Natalie asked.

"I hate everything," Colleen said, and rolled her eyes. "God, lawyers."

Natalie smirked.

Colleen put her feet up on the edge of Natalie's bed. She said, "You know, when a patient becomes ornery, you know they're getting better."

"It takes spare energy to be ornery?"

"Yup. Soon you'll even be wanting to use the bathroom in something other than a tin."

Natalie didn't even try to hide her blush. Colleen winked, and together they laughed and watched TV and pretended Natalie was in the hospital to have a hangnail removed.

As usual, an hour later, she was sound asleep.

#

Wheeler sat on Meredith's couch. "Chutes and ladders is kind of a creepy game," he said.

"I know. But it's action-packed."

"We used to play it with daddy," Merritt said. He stood, holding onto Meredith's shoulder.

Meredith rubbed a player piece idly.

"Did you?" Wheeler asked.

Meredith nodded.

"I won!" Beau shouted. He dug his fingers into Wheeler's leg.

Wheeler winced.

"Boys, get ready for bed, and I'll let Hank tell you a story."

They leapt up.

Merritt lingered. "What about the board?"

"I'll clean it up."

He beamed, and set off down the hall.

Meredith gathered pieces.

"Merry--"

"You're the only one I ever see," Meredith said.

"Not true. You've got friends."

"People who tolerate me aren't friends."

The bitterness in her voice made Wheeler pause.

She met his eyes. "Even you're not here for a social visit."

"Well, I am. Just not in the usual way."

She raised her eyebrows.

"It's about Natalie Ivans. We can't keep her in the hospital, Merry. It's costing a fortune."

"I know."

"She's healthy enough to go somewhere."

"To go home?"

"Maybe not. She can't do it on her own, Meredith. She can't even stand yet."

Meredith settled the board into a box.

"I was thinking here."

Meredith sat up. "Here? No."

"You got anything else going on?"

"Do I have anything else going on? You can't bring her here. The boys—"

"Her cat's already here. This is not the toxic place you think it is, Merry. It's just lonely."

"What does that have to do with patient care?"

"Hear me out. Please."

#

Meredith came to play chess with Natalie and tease her that she had a secret waiting at home, watched over by the boys. Natalie spent a good hour trying to figure out what it was, to no avail.

Wheeler came by after morning rounds after Natalie ate breakfast. Real scrambled eggs and hash browns, slightly burnt, and a slab of ham Colleen informed her was from Virginia.

Natalie debated between Tyra Banks or reading about the new cases Patrick wanted her to review; the eternal question, leisure or work. She had no other options, really, which meant life was returning to normal.

The idea depressed her. Shouldn't the accident be a more life-changing event? She wanted her life changed. She wanted a portal into another world, like those guys on TV who got hit on the head and woke up somewhere else. Though, technically, she woke up somewhere else--Tarpley was not a place she ever expected to be. But she still felt the same. Awake, she just had her old life, waiting impatiently for her. And Wheeler.

Wheeler asked, "Mind if I sit?

"Sure, Hank."

"I'd tip my hat if it were on."

"I suppose I should close my robe with a man in the room."

"It's the new century. But that's what brought me, actually."

"Oh?"

He began to take off his lab coat.

"Hank." She reached for the call button. "I may not be able to move, but I can scream."

"Oh, no, Natalie." He put his coat on the chair, and rolled up the sleeve of his tee shirt.

Wheeler was the only doctor on staff who wore tee shirts--this one was of a rock band she'd never heard of, black and stretched tight across his chest--but she assumed from too much television Greg House made sloppy dressing acceptable for doctors who had the skill to back it up. Wheeler qualified in her mind.

Under his sleeve was a tattoo of a red heart with an arrow through it, and the word, "Dawn."

"Who's Dawn?" she asked.

"Ex-girlfriend. I think of her every time I look in the mirror. Keeps me humble. I could have it removed, but then I'd just look at the absence and think of her."

"Do you still love her?"

"No. But I did."

She nodded. The tattoo had stretched and faded with time and did no favors to the age of his skin.

He rolled his sleeve back down and asked, "What about you? Any exes tattooed on your heart?"

"No." She shifted away and gazed out the window.

"Natalie."

"Huh?" Her voice sounded hoarse. She swallowed.

"You haven't had any visitors, except your boss and the district attorney. Isn't there someone?"

"No. Mom died, no siblings, no--relations. Friends to have a drink with or see a movie with, friends to email once in a while but not to schlep all the way down the coast for me. They're concerned, but they have lives."

He touched her arm. "I thought it was something else."

"Nothing else."

"Natalie, no one's going to lynch you for who you love. Not down here."

Her whole body felt hot. She breathed slowly. "There's no reason to have this conversation. But it’s nice you said that."

"We're all Christian here. We try. Not everyone is as obnoxious about it as Merry. She has her reasons. But we try not to judge."

"She's not obnoxious."

"She's got a good heart. You getting along with her?"

"Yes. I guess. Sure." She tried to shrug nonchalantly without hurting her shoulder or her stomach too much, and mostly succeeded.

"That's good, because--Look, Doctor Bhatti's going to come operate on your leg next week, but until then we'd like to discharge you."

Panic made bile rise up in her throat. "Back to Charlotte?"

"We wouldn't want you to travel far. You could get a hotel, but the ones with the internet you'd probably need for your job are pretty far away. Merry lives just down the road. She'd be able to provide nursing care. She'd take you in."

"Why can't I stay here?"

"You know how much it costs? Your health insurance is getting harder to authorize already."

"It's always about money."

"Yes. Besides, you're getting back some mobility. The stitches on your insides are holding just fine. This hospital isn't doing any good for you. I mean, you're only taking Tylenol. Merry's able to give you Percocet in an emergency. I know you think you're in a lot of pain, but the change we've seen in you is remarkable."

Natalie put her hands on her forehead, and thought. "Why are you telling me this, and not Merry?"

"Thought it would sound more official this way. Doctor's orders. And I talked to your insurance company about nursing care. Besides, you'd refuse any hospitality offered by a friend."

"I've got manners. The decency not to put people out."

"Not always in your best interest. Take advantage."

That's what Colleen said to do. It was the hardest thing anyone asked her. The thought made her sick. She liked Meredith too much to be resented underfoot. She really had no idea how it would turn out. It was terrifying to be so helpless.

Wheeler squeezed her shoulder. "Think about it. I'll be on my rounds."

"Later, gator," she said.

When he left, she turned on the television. Tyra over work, definitely, just to get her emotions steady. And Tyra would have good advice, though Natalie didn't need to hear it.

Live a little, make a friend. Love was important.

She turned off the television and tried to sleep. She couldn't.

# #

Chapter Nine

"I am your physical therapist extraordinaire," Jake said.

He had a gentle, quiet accent to match his round, kind eyes. He was of indeterminate Asian origin and Natalie didn't want to ask, because it was rude, and because her years in court gave her a pretty good handle on the basics. She enjoyed the guessing game. Though usually she could read the docket in front of her.

He was rotating her ankle in a most pleasant way, and asking her how she liked North Carolina, when she finally said, "Jake Syha. Nice name. Where's it from?"

"My grandparents came from Laos. You know, after the war. And my parents had a farm out by Fayetteville. Growing tobacco, until the government told them to grow soy. So they grow soy."

"Fayetteville's where the big base is?"

Jake nodded. He lowered her ankle and started massaging her calf. "I went into the Army, got some medic training. Paramedic, combat stuff. Got out and here I am."

"Wouldn't have thought the Army would have taught you to be so tender."

"Farm taught me. I'm still in the reserves, though. Keeps my hand in. I have a little girl now."

"What's her name?"

"Sunisa. Sunisa Syha-Jackson. My parents wanted to kill me for going back to the traditional ways, but I feel the same way about them changing everything, you know?"

Jake had silver studs in each earlobe, black hair brushing his neck, and a leather bracelet on one arm. He didn't look traditional. But he was as friendly as everyone else she'd met.

"Why'd you come back to North Carolina, after the army?"

"Wanted to live at the beach. But the hospital's better here. Still, I go surfing every other weekend if I can."

"Sounds great," she said, closing her eyes.

"You surf?"

"Never have."

"I'll teach you. I give classes to all the Yankees who come for vacation."

"All right."

He moved on to her good leg, and lifted it. "Rotate your ankle."

She did. "This is my good leg."

"Sure, but it's just lyin' around. You don't want it not to remember how to move, once you're ready to stand on it. You'll flop right onto the floor."

"Ugh."

"How soon will it be?"

She sighed. "Today's the big day." She glanced at the bathroom. "There and back."

He squeezed her foot. "You'll do it."

"I don't know."

The thought exhausted her. Having an assigned physical therapist, long-term, instead of just the guys who did shifts at the hospital, exhausted her. Jake would be coming to Meredith's house. Nearly every day. She'd have to get him something for Christmas if this kept up. Him and Sunisa.

"You celebrate Christmas, Jake?"

He began working on her arms. "Yeah. But we're Buddhist. Gotta go down to Cape Fear for the big celebrations. Yet another reason to live at the beach. Sit up?"

She tried to sit up. "Stomach hurts."

He put his arms around her waist, supporting her back. She found she didn't mind being touched by him, being near him, even though he smelled like cheap cologne and she was only in a flimsy hospital gown.