The Testament (35 page)

“Hello, Nate,” Welly said. He was hovering on the other side. The nurse left them.

“Hello, Welly,” Nate said, his words deep, slow, thick. He was groggy, but happy. How well he knew the feeling of being stoned.

Jevy patted his forehead and announced, “The fever is gone
too.” The Brazilians smiled at each other, relieved that they had not killed the American during their excursion into the Pantanal.

“What happened to you?” Nate asked Welly, trying to clip his words and not sound like a drunk. Jevy passed along the question in Portuguese. Welly was instantly animated, and began his long narrative about the storm and the sinking of the
Santa Loura.
Jevy stopped him every thirty seconds for the translation. Nate listened while trying to keep his eyes open, but he floated in and out of the scene.

Valdir found them there. He greeted Nate warmly, delighted that their guest was sitting up in bed and looking better. He whipped out a cell phone, and as he punched numbers he said, “You must talk to Mr. Stafford. He is quite anxious.”

“I’m not sure I …” Nate’s words trailed off as he drifted.

“Here, sit up, it’s Mr. Stafford,” Valdir said, handing him the phone and puffing up his pillow. Nate took the phone and said, “Hello.”

“Nate!” came the reply. “Is that you!”

“Josh.”

“Nate, tell me you’re not going to die. Please tell me.”

“I’m not sure,” Nate said. Valdir gently pushed the phone closer to Nate’s head, and helped him hold it in place. “Speak louder,” he whispered. Jevy and Welly stepped back.

“Nate, did you find Rachel Lane?” Josh yelled into the phone.

Nate rallied for a second. He frowned hard, trying to concentrate. “No,” he said.

“What!”

“Her name’s not Rachel Lane.”

“What the hell is it?”

Nate thought hard for a second, then fatigue hit him. He slumped a bit, still trying to remember her name. Maybe she never told him her last name. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, his lips barely moving. Valdir pressed the phone harder.

“Nate, talk to me! Did you find the right woman?”

“Oh yes. Everything’s okay down here, Josh. Relax.”

“What about the woman?”

“She’s lovely.”

Josh hesitated for a second, but he couldn’t waste any time. “That’s nice, Nate. Did she sign the papers?”

“I can’t think of her name.”

“Did she sign the papers?”

There was a long pause as Nate’s chin dropped to his chest and he appeared to be napping. Valdir nudged his arm and tried to move his head with the phone. “I really liked her,” Nate suddenly babbled. “A lot.”

“You’re stoned, aren’t you, Nate? They’ve got you on painkillers, right?”

“Yep.”

“Look, Nate, call me when your head is clear, okay?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Then use Valdir’s. Please call me, Nate.”

His head nodded and his eyes closed. “I asked her to marry me,” he said into the phone, then his chin fell for the last time.

Valdir took the phone and walked to a corner. He tried to describe Nate’s condition.

“Do I need to come down there?” Josh yelled for the third or fourth time.

“That is not necessary. Please be patient.”

“I’m tired of you telling me to be patient.”

“I understand.”

“Get him well, Valdir.”

“He is fine.”

“No he’s not. Call me later.”

________

TIP DURBAN found Josh standing in the window of his office, staring at the cluster of buildings that composed his view. Tip closed the door, took a seat, and asked, “What did he say?”

Josh kept staring out the window. “He said he found her, that she’s lovely, and that he asked her to marry him.” There was no trace of humor in his voice.

Tip found it humorous nonetheless. When it came to women, Nate culled little, especially between divorces. “How is he?”

“Feeling no pain, pumped full of painkillers, semiconscious. Valdir said the fever is gone and he looks much better.”

“So he’s not going to die?”

“It appears not.”

Durban began chuckling. “That’s our boy Nate. Never met a skirt he didn’t like.”

When Josh turned around he looked quite amused. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “Nate’s bankrupt. She’s only forty-two, probably hasn’t seen a white man in years.”

“Nate wouldn’t care if she was as ugly as sin. She happens to be the richest woman in the world.”

“I’m not surprised, now that I think about it. I thought I was doing him a favor sending him off on an adventure. It never occurred to me he would try to seduce a missionary.”

“You think he hit on her?”

“Who knows what they did in the jungle.”

“I doubt it,” Tip added on second thought. “We know Nate, but we don’t know her. It takes two.”

Josh sat on the edge of his desk, still amused, grinning at the floor. “You’re right. I’m not sure she would go for Nate. There’s a lot of baggage.”

“Did she sign the papers?”

“We didn’t get that far. I’m sure she did or he wouldn’t have left her.”

“When is he coming home?”

“As soon as he can travel.”

“Don’t be so sure. For eleven billion, I might stick around for a while.”

THIRTY-SIX
_____________

T
he doctor found his patient snoring in the shade of the courtyard, still sitting up in bed, mouth open, gauze removed, head fallen to one side. His friend from the river was napping on the ground nearby. He studied the IV bag and stopped the flow. He touched Nate’s forehead and felt no fever.

“Senhor O’Riley,” he said loudly as he tapped the patient’s shoulder. Jevy jumped to his feet. The doctor did not speak English.

He wanted Nate to return to his room, but when this was translated by Jevy it was not well received. Nate pleaded with Jevy and Jevy begged the doctor. Jevy had seen the other patients, the open sores, the seizures and dying men just down the hall, and he promised the doctor he would sit right there in the shade with his friend until dark. The doctor relented. He really didn’t care.

Across the courtyard was a small separate ward with thick black bars sunk in cement. Patients wandered out from time to
time to gawk through the bars into the courtyard. They could not escape. A screamer appeared late in the morning, and took offense at the presence of Nate and Jevy across the way. He had brown spotted skin and red patchy hair, and looked as crazy as he was. He clasped two bars, stuck his face between them, and began yelling. His voice was shrill and echoed around the courtyard and down the halls.

“What’s he saying?” Nate asked. The lunatic’s yelling startled him, and helped clear his head.

“I can’t understand a word. He’s insane.”

“They have me in the same hospital with the crazy people?”

“Yes. Sorry. It’s a small town.”

The yelling intensified. A nurse from the safe side appeared and shouted for him to be quiet. He lashed back at her with language that made her run away. Then he refocused on Nate and Jevy. He squeezed the bars until his knuckles were white, and began hopping as he screamed.

“Poor guy,” Nate said.

The screaming turned to wailing, and after a few minutes of nonstop racket a male nurse appeared behind the man and attempted to lead him away. He didn’t want to go, and a short scuffle ensued. With witnesses, the nurse was firm but cautious. The man’s hands, however, were glued around the bars and could not be removed. The wailing turned to shrieking as the nurse tugged from behind.

Finally, the nurse gave up and disappeared. The screamer pulled down his pants and began peeing through the bars, laughing loudly as he aimed in the general direction of Nate and Jevy, who were out of range. While his hands were off the bars, the nurse suddenly attacked from the rear, grabbing him in a full nelson and dragging him away. Once he was out of sight, the yelling ceased immediately.

When the daily drama was over and the courtyard was once again quiet, Nate said, “Jevy, get me out of here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Get me out of here. I feel fine. The fever is gone, my strength is returning. Let’s go.”

“We can’t leave until the doctor releases you. And you have that,” he added, pointing to the IV in Nate’s left forearm.

“This is nothing,” Nate said as he quickly slid the needle from his arm and yanked the IV free. “Find me some clothes, Jevy. I’m checking out.”

“You don’t know dengue. My father had it.”

“It’s over. I can feel it.”

“No, it’s not. The fever will return, and it will be worse. Much worse.”

“I don’t believe that. Take me to a hotel, Jevy, please. I’ll be fine there. I’ll pay you to stay with me, and if the fever returns you can feed me pills. Please, Jevy.”

Jevy was standing at the foot of the bed. He glanced around as if someone might understand their English. “I don’t know,” he said, wavering. It was not such a bad idea.

“I’ll pay you two hundred dollars to get me some clothes and take me to a hotel. And I’ll pay you fifty dollars a day to guard me until I’m okay.”

“It’s not about money, Nate. I’m your friend.”

“And I’m your friend, Jevy. And friends help friends. I can’t go back to that room. You saw those poor sick people in there. They’re all rotting and dying and pissing all over themselves. It smells like human waste. The nurses don’t care. The doctors don’t check on you. The insane asylum is just over there. Please, Jevy, get me out of here. I’ll pay you good money.”

“Your money went down with the
Santa Loura.
”

That stopped him cold. Nate had not even thought about the
Santa Loura
, and his belongings—his clothes, money, passport, and briefcase with all the gadgets and papers Josh had sent. There had been few lucid moments since leaving Rachel, just a few clear intervals during which he had thought about living and
dying. Never about tangible things or assets. “I can get plenty of money, Jevy. I’ll wire it in from the States. Please help me.”

Jevy knew that dengue was rarely fatal. Nate’s bout with it appeared to be under control, though the fever would surely return. No one could blame him for wanting to escape the hospital. “Okay,” he said, glancing around again. No one was near them. “I’ll return in a few minutes.”

Nate closed his eyes and contemplated his lack of a passport. And he had no cash, not a dime. No clothes, no toothbrush. No SatFone, cell phone, no calling cards. And matters weren’t much better at home. From the ruins of his personal bankruptcy, he could expect to keep his leased car, his clothing and modest furniture, and the money put away in his IRA. Nothing else. The lease on his small condo in Georgetown had been surrendered during rehab. There was no place to go when he returned. No family to speak of. His two older kids were distant and unconcerned. The two middle schoolers from the second marriage had been taken far away by their mother. He hadn’t seen them in six months, and had scarcely thought about them at Christmas.

On his fortieth birthday, Nate had won a $10 million verdict against a doctor who failed to diagnose cancer. It was the largest verdict of his career, and when the appeals were finished two years later the firm collected over $4 million in fees. Nate’s bonus that year had been $1.5 million. He was a millionaire for a few months, until he bought the new house. There were furs and diamonds, cars and trips, some shaky investments. Then he started seeing a college girl who loved cocaine, and the wall cracked. He crashed hard and spent two months locked away. His second wife left with the money, then came back briefly without it.

He’d been a millionaire, and now he imagined how he looked from the roof of the courtyard—sick, alone, broke, under indictment, afraid of the return home, and terrified of the temptations there.

His quest to find Rachel had kept him focused. There was
excitement in the hunt. Now that it was over, and he was flat on his back again, he thought of Sergio and rehab and addictions and all the trouble waiting for him. Darkness was looming again.

He couldn’t spend the rest of his life riding
chalanas
up and down the Paraguay with Jevy and Welly, far removed from booze and drugs and women, oblivious to his legal troubles. He had to go back. He had to face the music one more time.

A piercing squawk jolted him from his daydreams. The redheaded screamer was back.

________

JEVY ROLLED the bed under a veranda, then down a hallway headed toward the front of the hospital. He stopped by a janitor’s closet, and helped the patient out of bed. Nate was weak and shaky, but determined to escape. Inside the closet, he ripped off the gown and put on a pair of baggy soccer shorts, a red tee shirt, the obligatory rubber sandals, a denim cap, and a pair of plastic sunshades. Though he looked the part, he did not feel the least bit Brazilian. Jevy had spent little on his outfit. He was adjusting the cap when he fainted.

Jevy heard him hit the door. He quickly opened it, and found Nate slumped in a pile with buckets and mops rattling around. He clutched him under the arms and dragged him back to the bed. He rolled him into it and covered him with the sheet.

Nate opened his eyes and said, “What happened?”

“You fainted,” came the reply. The bed was moving; Jevy was behind him. They passed two nurses who didn’t seem to notice them. “This is a bad idea,” Jevy said.

“Just keep going.”

They parked near the lobby. Nate crawled out of bed, felt faint again, and began walking. Jevy placed a heavy arm around his shoulder and steadied him by clutching his bicep. “Take it easy,” Jevy kept saying. “Nice and slow.”

No stares from the admissions clerks, nor the sick people trying
to get in. No odd looks from the nurses and orderlies smoking on the front steps. The sun hit Nate hard and he leaned on Jevy. They crossed the street to where Jevy’s massive Ford was parked.

They narrowly avoided death at the first intersection. “Could you please drive slower,” Nate snapped. He was sweating and his stomach was rolling.

“Sorry,” Jevy said, and the truck slowed considerably.

With charm and the promise of future payment, Jevy cajoled a double room out of the young girl at the front desk of the Palace Hotel. “My friend is sick,” he whispered to her, nodding at Nate, who certainly appeared ill. Jevy didn’t want the pretty lady to get the wrong idea. They had no bags.