Solemn Oath Page 7

  Mercy tensed against her will at the mention of Lauren’s name. “And did our little supernurse get anywhere with her?” She cringed at the sound of her own jealousy.

  Lukas blinked at her, and his forehead wrinkled in concern. “No, but at least Beverly’s still speaking to her. Mercy? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  This time the heat that flushed her face was shame, and she couldn’t hold his gaze. During all the time she’d spent with Lukas, she hadn’t been able to get out of her mind the fact that Lauren McCaffrey had a lot more in common with him. She was a Christian, as he was. She was his age and, like him, she had never been married. She was kind and outgoing to everyone. Her constant chatter sometimes got on Mercy’s nerves, but she had a good heart. Funny how jealousy could tinge someone’s outlook.

  “I’ve got to dictate this chart and get back to my patients,” Mercy said at last, still not looking at him. “How about a date Thursday night? Jarvis George has a lady friend who is giving him a ‘getting well’ party at his house.”

  Lukas frowned at her. “You’re kidding, right? Do you think that’s a good idea? Don’t you think my presence will be detrimental to his recovery?”

  Mercy picked up the phone. “Don’t be paranoid. He was so out of his mind last spring he probably doesn’t even remember you—or the extent to which he went to get rid of you.” She knew Lukas wouldn’t buy that. Sixty-five-year-old Jarvis George, the Knolls Community E.R. director, had opposed Mrs. Pinkley when she first hired Lukas. It hadn’t helped the situation when Jarvis, distracted by Lukas in an exam room, had accidentally stuck himself with a suture needle. The needle had been infected by a patient with undiagnosed tuberculosis.

  “He remembers,” Lukas said. “I bet he still blames me.”

  “Oh, come on, Lukas, it wasn’t your—”

  “Not to mention the fact that the TB encephalitis couldn’t have kicked in until at least a couple of weeks later, during which time he used all the influence he could muster—”

  “He was being manipulated by Bailey Little,” Mercy said. Everyone knew about the E.R. visit when Lukas had refused to give morphine to Bailey’s drug-seeking son, Dwayne. “Both men have lost a lot of points in this community,” she continued. “Especially Jarvis.” He had not only given the requested morphine but had allowed Dwayne to drive away high on the drug. As a result, Dwayne had been in a fatal automobile accident.

  “So how about it, Lukas?” Mercy asked. “You’re off Thursday. I checked the schedule.”

  “I guess I could try, but if Jarvis starts shooting the moment I walk in the door, I refuse to stay past the obligatory thirty minutes.”

  “Wear your bulletproof vest, just in case.” Mercy held his gaze a little longer than necessary, simply because she loved having that connection with him. Then she dragged her mind away from what could have been if they weren’t both so busy. She punched her entry buttons and started dictation.

  Lukas stood watching Mercy dictate her additional comments about Arthur. They had incorporated the “T-system” charting now, which did away with extensive dictation or handwritten notes, but the T-sheets didn’t cover everything. Lukas liked the fact that Mercy didn’t try to pigeonhole or computerize human beings. She often added extra notes to her files. She always did the extras for her patients, making them feel more like human beings and less like parts on an assembly line.

  Lukas knew she was that way with every relationship in her life. She made him feel as if he was important to her, that their friendship was something special. Up to now it had been just that—a sharing friendship. He enjoyed her company so much…maybe a little too much? They had a lot of interesting discussions about life and about their pasts, and about his faith in God. But that was the catch. It was only his faith, not Mercy’s. How could he enjoy her company so much when she couldn’t even understand the most important foundation of his life?

  But he kept telling himself she was getting closer.

  She reached up to catch a strand of her long dark hair that had fallen from its clasp and caught sight of him still standing there. She gave him a questioning “do you need something?” glance.

  He shook his head, waved and turned to walk out of the room, and nearly bulldozed into Mrs. Estelle Pinkley, hospital administrator. He caught himself just in time, with the aid of a few spur-of-the-moment dance steps.

  “Oh, good, Dr. Bower, I’m glad I found you.” The tall silver-haired lady took his arm as if to steady him. “Are you too busy to step into the break room with me for a moment?”

  “Uh, no, not at all. Is something wrong?” By habit he studied her features and gave her regal seventy-year-old frame a cursory glance up and down as they walked the few feet into the empty E.R. staff break room. Those slender shoulders held a lot of responsibility, and sometimes, when the E.R. was slow and she was having back problems, she would “impose” upon him for a spinal adjustment. As a doctor of osteopathy, Lukas was knowledgeable about spinal manipulation.

  “You could say that.” She eased down onto the chair at the far west end of the circular table, massaging her fingers. “We’re being investigated by COBRA.”

  She said it too calmly, and for a moment the words didn’t register. Lukas stared at her.

  “We could be in for a rough ride, Lukas.”

  The impact hit him. “COBRA?” He caught his breath, then pulled back a chair beside her and sank down into it, stunned. The federal watchdog agency had the power, if they searched enough records and found enough infractions, to shut down any hospital or medical center in the country. Every hospital had infractions. Nobody was perfect all of the time, especially when they were the victims of a witch hunt.

  “Have you spoken with Beverly lately?” Mrs. Pinkley asked.

  “She avoids me as much as possible.”

  “She needs to fill out that AMA form, Lukas. It’s been over three months.” She leaned forward and spread her hands across the table. “This is ridiculous! One conniving man should not have this much power over this many people. He’s got Beverly so browbeaten she’s terrified to tell the truth.”

  “That conniving man is a grieving father,” Lukas reminded her. “He’s still reacting.” Attorney Bailey Little was also president of the hospital board, a dangerous situation for a doctor employed by that hospital. Bailey had promised vengeance several months ago when Lukas had refused to give morphine to Dwayne. Bailey had furthermore used his influence to sway public and patient opinion against Lukas. The plan had failed miserably upon Dwayne’s tragic death, but Bailey’s influence still beleaguered Mrs. Pinkley and her plans for the hospital.

  “I find it outrageous that you’re the one being investigated.” Mrs. Pinkley’s voice dropped even deeper than usual in an unaccustomed show of anger. “You know Bailey’s behind this.”

  “When does the investigation start?”

  She fixed him with her cool gray gaze, all traces of anger suddenly gone, as if she were slipping into her attorney mode. “The investigator is scheduled to arrive in two weeks. Don’t worry, we’ll handle this together.” She placed her hands on the table to push herself up, then shook her head and sighed. “I wish Bailey didn’t hold such a strategic position.” She stood with a suppressed groan. “The weather’s changing. We’re in for a big storm.”

  “Is your back bothering you again?”

  She smiled at Lukas, patted his arm and straightened her spine. “Nothing a little exercise and a couple of aspirin won’t take care of. Oh, by the way, I do have some good news. That doctor you wanted to have checked out, Cherra Garcias? She’s got good references. I set her up for an interview Thursday. I hope you don’t mind. You were too busy to talk when she called.”

  “No, that’s great.”

  “You’ll have trouble if you hire her, you know. She’s obviously Hispanic. The folks around here might be slightly skeptical.”

  “Are you saying I should allow public prejudice to sway my decision?”

  “No, I just want y
ou to be prepared for ungrounded complaints about her, just as I received complaints about you, and you’re from right here in Missouri.”

  “I’m glad you ignored them.”

  “You had good references. Of course, I get lots of complaints about your directorship, mostly from you, so the sooner you can hire someone to help you out with shifts, the happier we’ll both be.”

  Lukas grinned. “No one will be happier than I will. I don’t suppose you’d consider looking for a new director?”

  She smiled and patted his arm. “Hang in there, and I’ll make an administrative person out of you yet.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “Lukas, I can’t in good conscience replace Jarvis George while he’s still suffering from the effects of tuberculin encephalitis.” She lowered her voice. “Just between us, I’m hoping he’ll retire and I won’t have to make the decision, because I don’t want him back here causing me trouble and complaining about every tiny decision I make for this hospital. Still, I want to be fair to him. You are the perfect choice as interim director because you’re the only full-time E.R. physician, and you don’t want the directorship, which means I won’t have a fight on my hands if he comes back.”

  “What if he tries to fire me again?”

  Her smile returned, and it held a hint of mischief in the fine, powdered lines of her face. “Then I’ll have a valid reason to get rid of him for good.”

  After she left, Lukas couldn’t help glancing into the call room where Mercy had been. She was gone. When he stepped into the exam room where Cowboy had been, he found that he had already been taken into surgery. A couple of rooms down, where Buck also awaited a surgeon’s check, Buck’s raised voice burst from behind the trauma room curtain.

  “No! Kendra, you can’t do this. Not now. Not here!”

  Lukas frowned and stepped forward, but something stopped him from pulling the curtain back. Buck’s voice wasn’t betraying physical pain.

  Then came Kendra’s light soprano voice. “I warned you before about this, but did you ever listen? No. You were always too busy playin’ hero, always bargin’ in to save the day, whether it’s a dangerous pet or a woman in a burnin’ buildin’, no matter whether you needed to or not. I’m sick of it, Buck, I mean it.” In the silence, Lukas heard soft sniffles. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take it no more.”

  Buck’s deep voice came more gently. “Kendra, honey, this is about your father, not me. Don’t—”

  “And everybody loves Buck Oppenheimer. The good ol’ boys slap you on the back when we go out anywhere and tell you what a great guy you are. Do they ever look at me? Do they ever think about what I go through when I’m at home, wonderin’ if my husband’s going to live through the next fire? I’m no hero. To them I’m just a whinin’ female.”

  “Nobody’s ever said that about you. They know what you’ve been through.”

  “No, they don’t. They don’t care! I can tell what they’re thinkin’ by the look in their eyes. How dare I gripe when my husband comes home late from savin’ people from their own fires? You’re just a fireman, Buck, not a husband.” There was a quiet sob. “I can’t take it no more. I’m sorry, but I’m done with this marriage. I’m just not hero material.”

  Lukas stood out in the hallway in shocked silence while Kendra continued to sniff.

  “Honey, you’re worked up right now because of this scare,” Buck said with an unsteady voice, “but I’m going to be okay, really. You can ask Dr. Bower. Kendra, don’t leave me, please! Not like—”

  The curtain swished back, and a very pretty woman who looked like a young Michelle Pfeiffer swept out, her face contorted with tears. She didn’t glance up, didn’t even notice Lukas standing there, staring in stunned disbelief.

  Before Lukas could do anything, however, the human chatterbox, Lauren McCaffrey, swept past him as if she’d been hovering nearby, eavesdropping on every word as shamelessly as Lukas had been. She walked up to the bedside of the shocked man and laid a hand on his muscled arm, her kind green eyes sympathetic.

  “Now, don’t you worry, Buck. You know why Kendra’s upset. She’ll come out of this in a while and be begging you to forgive her and forget what she just said, and you two will be all giggles and kisses again in no time. I’ve seen it too many times before. She’s got her head on straight most of the time. She’ll come out of it. Come on, I’ve got to take your blood pressure again, especially after that little display.”

  Now both Buck and Lukas stared at Lauren. She ignored them and continued with her job. Buck turned dazed eyes toward Lukas.

  “You heard that, Doc?”

  “Yes, Buck. I’m sorry.”

  “But what am I supposed to do? I’m no hero. I’m just a fireman. And now she’s saying she doesn’t want to be married to me? I don’t take risks, not like—”

  “Settle down,” Lauren warned. “I can’t get a good reading if you get all worked up, and it’s not going to help your recovery any, either. Come on, Buck, you’re a fireman. You can handle a stressful situation. You know your wife better than that, and you know she’s going to be fine. You two have had your spats before, and it just makes your marriage stronger. She knows better than to let go of a hunk like you.” She checked his arm to take another reading.

  “Lauren, do you have to get a reading right now?” Buck asked, jerking his arm away. “This is my marriage we’re talking about.” He looked at Lukas. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Lauren, as always, was the one who answered. “Well, Buck, you pray about it, and you wait a while, then you call Kendra on the telephone and tell her how much you love her. Then arrange for her to pick you up when you’re released, and she will have gotten over it. Isn’t that right, Dr. Bower?”

  Lukas quirked an eyebrow at her. “Why are you asking me? I’ve never been married. And neither have you. What makes you think—”

  “Ever been dumped, Doc?” Buck asked.

  “You haven’t been dumped,” Lauren insisted. “You know she’s just scared. She’s still—”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll feel better when I’m back home in my own bed, and I don’t feel Kendra’s foot shoving me out the door.”

  Mercy walked into a surprisingly calm waiting room. Josie had sent home most of the patients who could reschedule, and there were only a few scattered around in comfortable chairs, reading the well-stocked library of periodicals with resigned expressions. They perked up when they saw her walk through. She waved and greeted them and apologized without breaking stride as she marched toward her office.

  Josie saw her first and scrambled over to her side. “Dr. Mercy, before you go into your office you need—”

  “I know, I’ll hurry. I’m sorry—”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  “Just let me change lab coats. I got some blood on this one, and it’s all—” She threw open the door to her office, then gasped aloud at the sight of her ex-husband, Theodore Zimmerman, sitting in the straight-backed chair in front of her desk.

  “Dr. Mercy, I tried to tell you,” Josie said, stumbling in to stand behind her. “He insisted he had to see you today because he’d made a promise, and I didn’t want to leave him sitting out in the waiting room so you’d have witnesses when you killed him.”

  Mercy stared at the man with five years’ worth of loathing. “Get out of this office. How dare you come in here like this?” She turned to Josie. “Start showing the patients to the exam rooms. This won’t take long. I’m going to call the police and let them know he’s here.” She picked up the telephone, almost expecting him to jump up and knock the receiver from her grasp and start shouting obscenities at her—his usual conduct.

  He didn’t move. “Please don’t, not yet,” he said quietly. “They released me.”

  “I’m supposed to believe that?” She stood staring at the man she had hated for so long she couldn’t remember feeling any other way about him. At times she’d dreamed of killing him—actually dreamed it. And they had been go
od dreams. Mom would be horrified at some of the thoughts that went through her mind. So would Lukas. So would Tedi. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to tell you how sorry I am.” He said the words quickly, as if afraid she would shut him up before he could get them all out.

  Mercy had heard that one lots of times before. Her hand tightened on the telephone receiver. What if he was lying about being released? What if he’d escaped?

  “And I want to find out what it would take for me to see Tedi again.”

  A stab of fear chilled the anger momentarily. One of Mercy’s worst nightmares was that he would be able to come back into their lives and take Tedi away from her again. She would die before that would happen.

  “I don’t mean I want to see her alone,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t ask that. You would be there, and Ivy, and anybody else you wanted. I’d be willing to talk to her through the bars of a jail cell if I could just talk to her.”

  “Which reminds me, why aren’t you in jail?” She still could not believe she was standing here talking to him and actually listening to anything he had to say.

  Strangely, however, he had said nothing accusatory or threatening, and he hadn’t even tried to twist her words around to use them against her—a favorite of his. She couldn’t smell any alcohol on his breath, and the whites of his eyes were actually clear, giving good definition to the light blue of the irises. His blond hair was short and neat. He wore jeans and a gray plaid flannel shirt—not his usual style. People who met Theo Zimmerman for the first time had commented—occasionally within Mercy’s disgusted hearing—that he was the handsomest man in Knolls. At six feet tall he didn’t exactly tower over other men, but he stood out, and he knew how to do it to his best advantage. He’d used his physical attractiveness like a tool when he worked as a real estate agent—before he was fired for embezzlement.

  His eyes held hers steadily. “I did everything they told me to do.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “The day I hit Tedi I wanted to die. I wanted the police to stick me back in the darkest and farthest cell and throw away the key.”