Sacred Trust

Tedi felt a weird combination of disappointment and satisfaction. Why should a near stranger be able to do something she herself had tried to do for such a long time?

And what made Julie think that just because she was blond and pretty and wore a lot of makeup…

“Tedi Zimmerman, I asked you a question,” came Mrs. Watson’s sharp voice.

Tedi jerked. Her chin slipped off her fist.

Jeff’s shoulders shifted as he turned to look at Tedi along with the rest of the fifth-grade class. This gave Mrs. Watson a clear view of Tedi trying to straighten up and look alert.

Mrs. Watson gave her that “I’ve had it with you, kid” look and shook her head.

“Class, I want you to read the next few pages on Neptune. No talking while I’m gone. Tedi, come with me.”

For a moment Tedi sat and stared at Mrs. Watson. “Where?”

“Now, Tedi.”

This was new.

“Theadra Zimmerman—”

“Okay.” Tedi didn’t look at anyone else as she got up and followed Mrs. Watson out the door. She could imagine Abby’s smirk behind her back, but who cared? Nobody liked Abby.

Mrs. Watson closed the door on the classroom and turned to face Tedi, arms folded in front of her. “Ordinarily I would send a sleeping child to the nurse’s office to take a nap, but you are not an ordinary child. I’ve had high hopes for you, but you’ve done more daydreaming, talking and disrupting than you’ve done homework in the past few weeks. I want to know why.”

Tedi stared at her teacher’s frowning face. She didn’t look mad, but she wasn’t happy.

“Are you taking me to the principal’s office?” Tedi asked in a meek voice.

Mrs. Watson sighed and leaned against the hallway wall. She studied Tedi’s face. “Does your father help you with homework?”

Uh-oh, she is going to drag Dad into this. “He’s been really busy lately.”

“How about your mother?”

“I don’t see her every night.” And she wasn’t about to waste time on homework during visitations.

Mrs. Watson put a gentle hand on Tedi’s shoulder. “What’s going on at home?”

Tedi looked away. “Nothing.”

Another sigh. “Look, I’m trying to be fair about this, but your parents are paying a lot of money to send you to this school, and—”

“My mother is paying the money.”

Mrs. Watson nodded thoughtfully. “Nevertheless, this is an accelerated class, and you’re falling behind. We need to do something about it.”

Tedi didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t done all her homework lately. Dad wasn’t there to nag her about it much, and it was just easier to read or watch TV.

“Come on.”

Tedi’s eyes widened. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going to call your father. Maybe he can help us find out what the problem is.”

Tedi drew back. “Why don’t we call Mom? She’s the one—”

“Your father has custody.”

Tedi didn’t move. “I still have a mother.”

Mrs. Watson continued down the hallway. “Fine, stay there. Your father will find you there when he comes to get you.” She turned around. “Unless you want to talk about it.”

Tedi shrugged. “I guess he’ll find me here.” Then he’ll kill me. My blood and guts will be all over the hallway when class gets out. Hope it makes Abby Cuendet throw up.

But then what would happen to Mom and Grandma Ivy?

At least an hour later, Tedi saw Dad coming down the hallway from the principal’s office. She held her breath until he reached her. His neck and face were flushed all the way up to his short blond hair.

The bell rang, and classroom doors opened all along the hallway.

“Let’s go,” Dad said.

Tedi breathed again, following him out the side exit. She ignored the other kids as they rushed out of class. Dad ignored them, too, which probably broke Lyssa Cole’s heart. She had a crush on him. She was weird.

After Tedi stepped into the passenger side of their red BMW, Dad slammed the door so hard she went cold all over. Yep, he was mad.

Her hands gripped each other tightly in her lap as the engine roared into life and the car sprang forward. Why had she been so stubborn with Mrs. Watson? She’d refused to even go back into the classroom and get her books. Now she’d not only be in trouble, but she would be making trouble for herself for later.

But she wasn’t trying to be stubborn. Not really. She just hadn’t wanted to face the class.

Okay, maybe she was a little mad at Mrs. Watson. Why did she expect so much?

Tedi glanced sideways at Dad. Was that alcohol she smelled?

He made a turn too fast, and Tedi fell against the door. She didn’t have her seat belt on. She reached up and pulled it down and fastened it. Just in time.

Dad slammed on the brakes, screeching the tires for at least three feet.

Yes, that was alcohol on his breath.

Tedi looked at him. He had “patriotic” eyes—red, white and blue. She’d heard Mom use that term about him often enough that it wasn’t funny anymore. Especially now.

He stared straight ahead. “You think I’m a reckless driver?” he demanded.

Reckless was a stupid word. Made it sound like you could never have a wreck. Dad was “wreckful,” not “wreckless.” He’d had several accidents to prove it.

“No, Dad, I don’t think you’re reckless. I just forgot to put my seat belt on when we got into the car. I always wear my seat belt. Mom makes me wear it. When you turned—”

Dad gunned the motor and sped along Highway F toward home. “I get your point.”

How could he get a point she was trying not to make?

She glanced sideways at him again. “Um, Dad, would you please slow down a little? This is scaring me.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you made that airhead teacher of yours call me.”

Tedi grimaced with growing anger. “I didn’t make her call you. I fell asleep in class, and she made a big deal out of it.”

“That’s not the way I heard it from her. I heard this isn’t the first time you’ve caused trouble in class lately. Do you know she had me paged from an important luncheon meeting with some prospective buyers for the Reynolds Ranch? Do you know how much commission I stand to lose on that deal?” He turned into their drive at home.

Tedi wondered if that was one of those martini lunches she’d heard about. “Sorry I’m such a pain to you, Dad.”

He didn’t even catch the sarcasm in her voice. “If I lose that sale, we may think about taking you out of that fancy school of yours.”

Tedi gritted her teeth. Why should he care? He wasn’t paying for it.

He got out and slammed his door. She did the same with hers, pushing the door with as much force as she could. It made a satisfying WHOMP!

Dad just walked on up the sidewalk toward the front entrance.

Tedi opened the car door wide, then slammed it even harder. “I hate you,” she said under her breath, glaring at Dad’s back. “I hate you, hate you, hate you.”

He unlocked the house and turned to wait for her.

She continued glaring.

He just waited.

Her glare wavered. Grandma Ivy said that hatred destroyed everything it touched. Tedi didn’t really hate Dad. She just wanted him to stop drinking and stop saying bad things about Mom.

Dad kept waiting, and Tedi finally went in.

He closed the door behind them, slowly and quietly. He did that when he was really mad and trying to keep from losing his temper. He’d lost his temper and kicked a dog so hard once that he broke its ribs. He’d broken windows with his fists and kicked holes in walls. Always he’d been drinking when he did it.

“Can I go up to my room?” Tedi asked. “I’m tired.”

He raised a brow at her. He didn’t act drunk now. “Why are you tired? You went to bed early enough last night. Besides, you slept in class today, didn’t you?”

His sarcastic tone made her madder. “Only because your fight with Julie kept me awake last night,” she snapped. “I’m falling behind in class. Mrs. Watson thinks there might be something wrong at home. She asked me if you helped me with my homework, and I told her you were too busy.” Tedi knew she shouldn’t be saying all this, but she couldn’t help herself.

“So I’m supposed to be doing your homework for you now? Is there something wrong with trying to make a living for my family?”

Tedi narrowed her eyes at him. “But you don’t.”

He stood for a long moment, glaring at her as red color once more crept up his face.

She glared back at him, heart pounding. She felt now as she did when she argued with Abby Cuendet during lunch—mad enough to say just about anything.

But Dad was bigger than Abby, and Abby didn’t drink.

He took a step toward her.

“Can I go to my room now?” Without waiting for a reply, Tedi pivoted away from him.

His left hand came down hard on her right shoulder, and he jerked her around to face him, his thumb and fingers digging painfully into her flesh. His other hand drew back. Way back. His angry eyes burned out at her.

“Daddy, don’t!” Tedi ducked.

She caught her breath and braced herself, tensing for a strike that didn’t land. She remained braced for a long time, then raised her head to find Dad frozen in position, eyes wide, face drained of color.

He released her shoulder and lowered his hand, but the pain still spurted down her arm. “Go to your room, Tedi.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m going back to work.”

The spacious corner office that Dr. Jarvis George had used at Knolls Community for the past twenty years reflected the passion of his life: hunting. A moose head overlooked his credenza. The head and rack of a twelve-point buck peered out from between two glass-fronted bookcases filled with outdated medical texts. A rich, dark brown leather couch and two overstuffed chairs were situated so that visitors had a chance to peruse several hunting pictures taken in the field.

At the moment, Jarvis found no pleasure in his surroundings. He sat behind his massive oak desk and stared at the report. That insolent new doctor had decided to fill it out after that stupid needlestick incident this morning. The RMQA—risk management and quality assurance officer—was a personal friend. Dorothy had seen fit to call this to Jarvis’s attention. Unfortunately, this was not the only copy. The administrator and chief of staff would know about it, and if anything came of it…But of course, nothing would.

Jarvis crumpled the sheet into a ball and threw it into the trash. “Big mistake, Bower.”

He glanced at his left hand, flexed it. He’d scrubbed it well after the needlestick. There was nothing more to do. You don’t catch Alzheimer’s from contaminated blood, and that was this poor old gal’s problem—increased dementia over the past weeks. Alzheimer’s.

Someone knocked on the door. “Jarvis? You in there?”

The sound of Ivy Richmond’s voice lightened his expression as he jumped up from his chair and rushed over to open the door for her.

His frown returned when he saw her face, drained of color and lacking its usual smile.

“Come in, dear, come in.” He gently took her arm and led her to the leather couch, where he sat beside her. “How are the funeral arrangements coming? Do you need any help?”

Ivy shook her head and disengaged her arm from his grip. “Got it done. It’ll be tomorrow at ten at my church. Will you sit with the three of us? No other family is coming.”

“I’d be honored, Ivy. Pardon me for saying this, my dear, but you could do with some rest. Are you feeling okay?” He reached up and felt her cheek with the back of his hand.

She leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. “Maybe some chest congestion…or something. I don’t know. I’m just tired, Jarvis.”

He eyed his stethoscope over on his desk, but before he could decide to get it, Ivy opened her eyes and fixed him with an intent look.

“I’m worried about something, and I don’t know if I have a valid complaint. I’m just confused. I’ve gone through this grief process before, and I know what it can do to your mind. I think it’s working a number on me, but I just can’t tell.”

Jarvis took Ivy’s right hand in both of his. “Why don’t you tell me about it? If there’s anything in my power I can do to help, I’ll do it. You know that.”

She nodded. “But I’m not sure it’s fair to drag you into it—not fair to you or Dr. Bower.”

Jarvis tensed. “Dr. Bower?”

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you about him. I know you didn’t want him here.”

“I still don’t.” And the whole thing was getting harder to swallow as time went on. “We don’t need a full-time doctor here.” And especially not Bower. Already two of Jarvis’s regular patients had been treated by the younger doctor in the emergency room, and their glowing reports about Bower’s compassion and kindness hit a raw nerve. He could be a horrible diagnostician, write scripts for all the wrong drugs, but as long as he had a “good bedside manner,” he was praised as a good doctor. Sounded like slick politics. What about good, honest medicine? How long would it take Bower to convince administration to get rid of all the older docs and replace them with fresh grads who cared more about covering their tails from lawsuits than they cared about human beings?

Ivy pulled her hand from his.

Jarvis released her, shrugging off the bitter thoughts. “I’d like to think I’m enough of a professional to be objective. I think I can make a sound judgment call, especially for your sake.”

She shook her head and sighed. “I may be stirring up trouble for nothing.”

“Hey, I’ve been practicing objectivity as long as I’ve been practicing medicine. You trust me as a friend, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s figure out this Bower business together.”

Ivy took another deep breath, let it out and leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I had to fight him to get him to try to save Mother yesterday. I felt as if he wanted to dismiss her as just a dying old woman. Maybe it was my emotions talking, I don’t know, but I question his ethics, Jarvis. I don’t think he holds human life sacred. That’s important to me, especially in my financial relationship to this hospital.” She spread her hands “What do we know about him?”

“Just the basics. What do you want to know? I’ll try to find out for you.”

“For instance, what is his background? Where did he come from? I know he’s a Doctor of Osteopathy. Is he an experienced emergency room physician? How does he feel about abortion and euthanasia?” She shook her head apologetically at Jarvis. “I’m sorry, but these are questions I really want answered.”

Jarvis frowned. Okay, maybe he was going to have more trouble with objectivity than he thought. It was too tempting to play on Ivy’s suspicions, but it wouldn’t be fair to Ivy. He didn’t care about Bower.

“I don’t know much about him,” Jarvis said. “His credentials are obviously in order, or our administrator would not have cleared him to treat patients here. She’s conscientious. I’ve heard that Bower comes from Truman Medical Center in Kansas City, so he’s obviously had some good experience.”

“Is he board certified?”

“I don’t think so. Most docs will include that with their title, and he hasn’t. He would at least have done his internship before he could practice medicine in Missouri, so I’m sure he has a permanent licensure.”

“Did he bring any references from Truman?”

“I’m sure he did, but no one has seen fit to share them with me. Remember, I’m just the director.” Jarvis didn’t try to keep the resentment from his voice. It had even been suggested by the hospital’s chief financial officer that this new upstart should receive the director title since he was going to be the only full-time physician on staff for emergency room. Even the gung ho administrator had refused to consider that—for now. She’d suggested that they try this guy out first and see how capable he was. These people had no loyalty to their tried-and-true medical staff.

“Jarvis, did you hear me? Do you know anyone at Truman? I would think after all these years and all the medical seminars you’ve attended—”

Jarvis straightened. “Of course. One of the advanced trauma life-support instructors is a trauma surgeon at Truman. I’ve taken the course with him several times, not that I couldn’t teach it myself if I were so inclined.”

“Would he have worked with Dr. Bower?”

Jarvis got up from the couch and went to his desk. He fanned out a business card file. “Dr. Sal Probstfield just happens to be a duck hunter. Ducks aren’t my forte, of course, but you get a couple of hunters into a room with 150 golfers, racquetballers and tennis jocks, the hunters will tend to find each other. Ah, here it is.” He pulled out a card with a mallard printed on it.

“Don’t tell me that a trauma surgeon hands out business cards.”

“For his guide service. During duck season he takes groups out on hunting trips. It’s what he plans to do with his time when he retires in three years.”

“Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

Jarvis reached toward the speakerphone and punched his numbers. “Well enough to get information from him about Bower.”

They reached Dr. Probstfield at home. After a few preliminaries, Jarvis asked, “Sal, we have a new full-time doctor down here. Does the name Lukas Bower mean anything to you?”

There was a pause, then a low whistle. “So you’re the guys who stole our whiz kid.”

Ivy raised a brow at Jarvis. She mouthed the words, “Whiz kid?”

Sal continued. “He’s awful at hospital politics, so his colleagues tend to resent him. He’s great with patients and diagnoses and he puts on a good show of confidence, so his colleagues tend to resent him.” He chuckled at his own attempt at humor. “Give him time. He’s not obnoxious. He’s just got a small problem with social graces. He’s not as cocky or self-confident as he seems.”

Jarvis saw the relief in Ivy’s expression.

Sal’s voice came again. “Those guys over at Cunningham Memorial lost themselves a good internist when they kicked him out of the residency program.”

Ivy’s head jerked up.

Jarvis stiffened, trying to control the surge of hope he felt. “What?”

“You know he’s not board certified, don’t you? That’s why. The hospital’s board of internal medicine decided he was endangering patients, and they fired him. He never got into another residency program. I know the trainer Bower had over there. Vicious man, very vindictive. He didn’t like being shown up, and I’d hazard a guess that Bower did so without even realizing it. The director of internal medicine backed up Bower’s trainer. They even tried to block Bower’s permanent licensure. I hear he had to take them to court to get it through.”

“I see,” Jarvis muttered, glancing at Ivy. “Is that all you know about it, Sal?”

There was a pause. “I’ve heard other rumors, but nothing was substantiated.”

“How did they feel he was endangering patients?”

“You’ll have to get that information from somebody else. Remember, I liked the guy. All you have to do is ask Bower about it. He’s an innocent, and he’s never learned to keep his mouth shut.”

“Thanks, Sal, I owe you. See you soon.” Jarvis hung up and looked at Ivy. “I know some people at Cunningham. I’ll give them a call later and see if I can come up with more info.”

“Why don’t you just ask Dr. Bower?” Ivy suggested.

Jarvis shot her a skeptical glance. “I’ll call Cunningham.”

Chapter Five

L ukas didn’t often visit a patient after admitting, because he didn’t want to interfere with the family docs. Friday morning, however, he’d received a special request from ICU that he could not refuse.

Mr. Franklin Verris had apparently just awakened from his mysterious deep sleep late yesterday evening, and he wanted to meet the doctor who, according to Dr. Robert Simeon, had probably saved his life. Dr. Simeon must be mistaken, and Lukas intended to tell Mr. Verris that.

Mr. Verris looked different in a hospital gown, but someone had been kind enough to bring him his teeth and help him comb his full head of white hair. His skin appeared pink and healthy this morning. Shelly had probably been by to see him already.

“Mr. Verris?” Lukas said quietly as he stepped up to the bed. “I’m Dr. Bower. I saw you in the emergency room Wednesday.”

The man glanced at Lukas, nodded and reached up to take Lukas’s hand in a firm shake. “Call me Frankie. My doctor tells me you kept me from doing something terrible. I thank you.” He looked away. “I don’t…don’t know what got into me.”

Lukas bent closer. “Frankie, did you take too much medication?”

There was a slight pause, then the man nodded, still not looking at Lukas.

“But your prescription bottle was almost full.”

Frankie sighed. “I know. Tuesday evening I was going through the medicine cabinet for the first time since…since my wife died. I came across her bottle of Xanax. She used it sometimes to help her sleep when her arthritis acted up.”

“So you did take hers.” Lukas had noticed that the script was for sixty pills.

“She’d used about half the bottle before she died.” Frankie closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at Lukas. His eyes were pale gray. It made him seem more vulnerable. “Tuesday was the sixtieth anniversary of our first date. When I saw that bottle, it occurred to me that I enjoyed life with Doris so much more than I enjoy life now, I just wanted to be with her again. I didn’t want to live.” He shrugged. “No reason to. No children or family.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way. You do seem to have some neighbors who care about you a great deal.” Lukas could have kicked himself for not trusting his own instincts. “How do you feel now?”

Frankie considered the question for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about Doris a lot today. When I allow myself to believe, as she insisted, that her spirit still lives, I feel better.” A gentle smile lit his face.

That was it. Lukas realized that the lines of this man’s face held humor. That was another reason why Lukas couldn’t believe he had tried to kill himself when he came into the emergency room the other day.

“Was Mrs. Verris a Christian?” Lukas asked.

“Yes. Oh, I know a lot of people claim to be Christians, then live like the devil, but my wife…my sweet, giving wife…” The man’s eyes filled with tears. “She lived it.” He looked out the window for a moment and waited for his eyes to clear. “How she put up with an old reprobate like me for so long, I don’t know. When the drug started taking effect the other day, it occurred to me that I probably wouldn’t follow her anyway.”

“Why is that?”

“God would kick me out of heaven.”

“He doesn’t kick His own children out. You don’t share your wife’s faith?”

Frankie continued as if he hadn’t heard Lukas. “My wife was the most beautiful woman in the world.” He said it softly, as if he were recalling her face. “She was beautiful inside, as well as outside, and she just grew more beautiful over the years.” His attention returned to Lukas. “I want to thank you for giving me another chance.”

“I’m glad I was here to help.” Lukas paused, then cleared his throat. “There is a way to make sure that you follow Doris when you do leave this earth.”

Frankie shook his head slowly. “I could never be the kind of person Doris was.”

“You don’t have to be. God created you as you are, and He wants you as you are.”

Frankie continued to shake his head.

“Tell me,” Lukas said, “would Doris be silly enough to worship a useless God?”

Frankie glanced sharply at Lukas. “My wife was a very wise lady. She wasn’t silly.”

“Then wouldn’t the God she worshiped at least be able to love you and accept you as generously as she did?”

Frankie watched Lukas for a moment. “You’re a Christian.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You talk just like Doris used to.” His eyes filled with tears again. “Sure do miss her.”

“Then why don’t you start making your travel plans—and not the way you did Wednesday. Why don’t you make sure you can be with her again? Get to know her Savior personally. Then when the time comes, in His time, not yours, He will see to it that you find her. Meanwhile, Frankie, He will be with you here, and He’ll give you peace you never believed you could have…or deserve.”