“Well,” she said, “that’s honest. I guess it’s the same for me. Mostly I think in terms of scientific logic, show me the data. But lately I find myself believing in the spirit world, because I sense her with me. It’s not constant, just sometimes, when I’m alone. I’ll be doing something and feel her. It could be just my emotional need but the day it stops may be when I show up for some real therapy.”
CHAPTER 5
Rick said, “No, nothing like that, current or past. In fact, we’re having a nice quiet spell, shyster-wise. And when the vultures swoop, they avoid the nurses. No financial incentive.”
“Did Patty moonlight?”
“Not since she’s worked for me. When she wanted extra money, she double-shifted.”
“Where did she work before she came to Cedars?”
“Kaiser Sunset, but only for a year. Scratch the malpractice angle, Alex.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“How’s Tanya doing?”
“As well as can be expected.”
“Good. Gotta run. Thanks for seeing her.”
Straight to the point. Surgical. Just like his original referral.
“I know you’re not doing much therapy, Alex, but this sounds more like a consultation.”
“Who’s the consultee?”
“Best nurse I ever worked with, a woman named Patty Bigelow. A few years ago her sister dumped a kid on her, then left for parts unknown. Sister died in a motorcycle accident and Patty adopted the girl, who’s now seven. She’s got some parenting questions. Can you see her?”
“Sure.”
“I appreciate it…”
“Anything else I should know?”
“About what?” he said.
“Patty, the girl.”
“I’ve only seen the girl in passing. Cute little thing. Patty’s super-organized. Maybe a little too much for a kid.”
“A perfectionist.”
“You could say that. She fits in great in my E.R. It was hard for her to admit having a problem. I don’t know why she chose me to tell.”
“She trusts you.”
“Could be that…I’ll give her your number, gotta run.”
An hour later, Patty Bigelow had called. “Hi, Doctor. I won’t gab on the phone because you sell your time and I’m no mooch. When’s your next opening?”
“I could see you today at six.”
“Nope,” she said, “on shift until seven and Tanya’s out of day care at eight, so I’m in for the evening. Tomorrow I’m off.”
“How about ten a.m.?”
“Great, thanks. Should I bring Tanya?”
“No, let’s talk first.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. What’s your fee?”
I told her, said I’d be cutting it in half.
“That’s seriously below average,” she said. “Dr. Silverman assures me you’re not.”
We debated for a while. I prevailed.
Patty said, “I don’t usually give in, Dr. Delaware. You might be just the right person for Tanya.”
The next morning, at nine forty-two, I was out on the landing when a blue minivan pulled up in front of the house. The engine switched off but the vehicle stayed in place.
A woman with short brown hair sat behind the wheel, balancing a checkbook. As I approached she put it away.
“Ms. Bigelow?”
A hand shot out the window. Compact, nails cut square. “Patty. I’m early, didn’t want to bother you.”
“No bother, c’mon in.”
She got out of the car, holding a black briefcase. “Tanya’s medical records. Do you have a Xerox machine?”
“I do, but let’s talk first.”
“Whatever you say.” She climbed the stairs just ahead of me. I put her at forty or so. Short and dark-eyed and round-faced, wearing a navy turtleneck over easy-fit jeans and spotless white tennies. The clothes made no attempt to streamline a broad, blocky body. Brown hair streaked with gray was cut in an anti-style as frivolous as a lug wrench. No makeup but good skin, ruddy with a faint underglow and no age lines. She smelled of shampoo.
When we reached the stairs to the front landing, she said, “Real pretty out here.”
“It is.”
No more conversation as we headed to the office. Midway there, she paused to straighten a picture with a fingertip. Hanging back a half step, as if to avoid notice. I noticed anyway and she grinned. “Sorry.”
“Hey,” I said, “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“Be careful what you ask for, Doctor.”
She scanned my diplomas and perched on the edge of a chair. “I see another couple more crooked ones.”
“Earthquake country,” I said. “The ground’s always shifting.”
“You’ve got that right, we’re living in a jelly jar. Ever try museum wax? Little dab on the bottom center of the frame and if you need to get it off the wall you can peel it without leaving a mark.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Positioning the briefcase so that its front end was flush with a chair leg, she said, “May I?” and got up before I could answer. When the prints were straight, she returned to her chair and folded her hands in her lap. A peachy blush coined the upper rims of her cheeks. High cheekbones, the only bits of definition in the wide, smooth face. “Sorry, again, but it really drives me nuts. Should I talk about Tanya or me?”
“How about both?”
“Any preference as to order?”
“Tell it the way you want,” I said.
“Okay. In a really small nutshell here’s my story, so you’ll understand Tanya. My sister and I grew up on a ranch outside of Galisteo, New Mexico. Both our folks were drunks. My mother was the ranch cook, good in the kitchen but she didn’t give a hoot about mothering. My father was the foreman and when he got plastered, he came into our bedroom and did ugly stuff to me and my sister-I don’t need to go into details, do I?”
“Not unless you want to.”
“I don’t want to. It affected my sister and me differently. She turned wild and chased men and drank and took every drug she could get her hands on. She’s gone, now, motorcycle crash.” Short, deep breath. “I became a Goody Two-shoes. The two of us weren’t very close. As it turned out, I have no interest in men. None. Or women, in case you’re curious.”
“I’m always curious, but that hadn’t occurred to me.”
“No?” she said. “Some folks think I’m pretty butch.”
I said nothing.
“Also, seeing as how Richard-Dr. Silverman-was the one who referred me and how people jump to conclusions, I could understand you thinking I was gay.”
“I work hard at not jumping to conclusions.”
“It wouldn’t bother me if I was gay, but I’m not. I have no interest in anybody’s anything below the waist. If you need a label, how about asexual? That make me crazy in your book?”
“Nope.”
Another partial smile. “You’re probably just saying that because you want to develop whatchamacallit rapport.”
I said, “You’re not interested in sex. That’s your prerogative. So far I’ve heard nothing crazy.”
“Society thinks it’s weird.”
“Then we won’t let Society into the office.”
She smiled. “Moving on: My sister-Lydia, she went by Liddie-couldn’t keep her pants on. Maybe God played tricks, huh? Two girls dividing up one sex drive?”
“Hers on Monday, yours on Tuesday but she got greedy?”
She laughed. “Sense of humor’s important in your business.”
“Your business, too.”
“You know much about my job?”
“Dr. Silverman told me you’re the best nurse he’s ever worked with.”
“The man exaggerates,” she said, but her eyes sparkled. “Okay, maybe just a slight exaggeration, ’cause off the bat I can’t think of anyone better. Last night we had a guy, a gardener, mangled both hands in a lawn mower. Too much empathy and you find yourself depressed all the time…speaking of bad stuff, plenty happened to my sister, but nothing she didn’t earn. She died on back of a Harley on the way to a big bike meet in South Dakota. No helmet, same for the genius driving. He took a turn wrong, they went flying off the road.”