Fractured Eden (6 page)

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Authors: Steven Gossington

BOOK: Fractured Eden
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Grant sighed. “I know they need your help.”

“There’s something strange going on over there.”

Grant touched Aaron’s shoulder. “I’ll help you all I can with them, but it’s up to you.”

“Up to me? So you believe there’s a medical illness in that house that I can help with?”

Grant nodded as he escorted Aaron to the Volvo. He leaned into the driver’s window. “Just look into it. You may be their last chance.”

Aaron frowned as he drove away.
Last chance. What does he mean by that?

 

Aaron drove a circuitous route home to pick up a to-go order of chicken quesadillas with rice and black beans. After dinner, he paced around his house. He held up jittery hands.
Maybe I had too much coffee today.

His heart was beating faster than usual.
Okay, from now on, no caffeine after three in the afternoon for me.

Later in bed, Aaron took deep breaths and concentrated on pleasant thoughts, like an image of Marley, but her smiling face would dissolve into the strange waving trees he’d seen earlier with Grant Belkin. He pulled the sheet up to his chin, but that didn’t prevent the return of the shivers he’d felt near the Big Thicket.

                                                        ****

 

After her shift at the diner, Wanda Taggett drove home with a beef taco meal from a local fast food restaurant. She would enjoy that for her dinner later. First, she had to feed her husband, Sid.

“Are you awake?” she asked Sid. He didn’t respond.

She pushed her hand under Sid’s pillow, nodding as she felt the cloth pouch containing various objects, then she walked to the kitchen to unlock a cabinet. She pulled out a box and poured some white powder from the box into a glass, taking care not to touch the powder herself. After adding milk and chocolate syrup to the glass, she stirred the liquid into a dark brown mix and placed the glass on a small table by Sid’s bed. She shook Sid and shouted in his ear.

“Wake up. It’s time for dinner.”

Sid moaned and opened his eyes. Wanda helped him sit up in bed and handed him the glass. He began to sip the liquid.

After several swallows, he looked at her. “Tastes good.”

She smiled. “Sure it does. Just give it a little more time to help.”

Sid sighed. “All right. I guess you know best.”

“Trust me. Everything will work out just fine.”

Wanda bared her teeth as she walked away.
And, you’ll never cheat on me again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                         
Chapter 7

 

 

Aaron yawned and rolled out of bed Saturday morning.

“Today’s the day.” He pumped his fist in the air. “I start jogging again.”

He donned his old running shoes, socks, shorts and shirt, and stretched out his hamstrings and calves for several minutes. After gulping down a large glass of water, he grabbed a key and locked the front door behind him.

Now start slow and work up to a decent distance over a few weeks. Don’t overdo it.

He took a deep breath and broke into a gentle jog down his street. Marley was in her front yard and Aaron waved at her as he jogged by. She smiled at him and he picked up his speed, turning right at the intersection.
Slow down, she’s not watching now.

He was able to make it as far as the trailer home of his alcoholic patient Rocky Donnigan, where he turned around and walked back to his house.

That felt good. I’ll have that pleasant muscle soreness later.

After throwing off his soggy shirt and showering off the sweat, Aaron drove from his house in the direction of a large hospital about forty-five minutes away. He cranked up the radio.

After a while, he smiled. “I’m beginning to recognize some of these country songs. That’s ‘People Are Crazy,’ by Billy Currington.”

He parked in the main lot at the front, walked through the entrance, and studied the directory on a wall by the front lobby elevators. After a few turns down hallways on the first floor, he came to a nursing administration office.

He knocked and a woman appeared at the door. “Are you Dr. Rovsing?” she said.

“Yes, thanks for seeing me.”

“My pleasure. I’m Rachel. Please have a seat.” Rachel sat down in a chair behind her desk. “You wanted some information about a patient?”

Aaron handed her a piece of paper. “I’d appreciate whatever you can tell me about this patient. He lives near my clinic, and I’d like to find out if I can help him in any way.”

She smiled at him. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“I just moved here from the Northeast.”

“Well then, welcome to Texas.”

“I imagine I’ll pick up a little of the Southern drawl over time.”

“Most people do.”

Rachel typed on her computer keyboard and studied the monitor. “Sid Taggett. He was admitted three times over the last six months or so. The doctors suspected a neurologic disease of some sort, but no specific diagnosis was given. They considered amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, ALS.”

“Some neurologic diseases can be difficult to pinpoint, and it may take time. If you don’t think of an unusual diagnosis, you may not order the right tests.”

Rachel looked up. “How’s he doing now?”

“He’s mostly bedridden. His wife takes care of him.”

She opened more records on the computer screen. “There’s something else here, an interesting note in the past medical history from one of the doctors.”

She summarized the report. “The wife, Mrs. Taggett, brought her son to the hospital multiple times. This was years ago, when her son was a toddler and a preschooler. One of the doctors mentioned the possibility of child abuse. Then the son’s hospital visits stopped.”

“Can I read some of the notes?”

“No problem. Pull a chair around.”

Aaron sat at the computer beside Rachel and scanned medical reports on the computer screen for several minutes.

“Look at this,” he said. “One of the consultant reports mentions Munchausen by Proxy. They thought she might’ve been hurting her son on purpose to gain sympathy and attention from her friends and doctors.”

“I’ve heard of that.”

“It’s a rare psychiatric disease. As I recall from medical school, it can be hard to treat, and the children can develop psych problems of their own.”

“How do they treat it?”

“Mainly psychotherapy and counseling, I think. I’m pretty sure there’s no specific medication for treating it.”

“I thought by now we had medicines for everything,” Rachel said.

“Unfortunately not. To make matters worse, some patients with these types of illnesses don’t even believe they’re sick and don’t follow through with any kind of therapy.”

“I hate to ask. Does it say how she hurt the poor child?”

Aaron studied the reports. “They weren’t absolutely sure that she was abusing her child, but they suspected she overmedicated or poisoned him once. Another time, he had suspicious cuts on him, like from a knife. Her story was that he’d fallen and cut himself on broken glass in the carpet. I guess the doctors believed her.”

“Do you know her son, Dr. Rovsing?”

“She has a son who lives in her house. I assume that’s the child we’re talking about. I don’t know this family very well yet.”

“She may be one sick lady.”

“I have a feeling that’s true.” Aaron stood and shook her hand. “Thanks for your time.”

He noticed deep dimples at the corners of her smile.

 

Aaron fired up the Volvo.
This is getting very interesting
.

He stopped at a roadside cafe for lunch and ordered a large lettuce salad with walnuts and cranberries. As he drove back to his town, he hatched a plan. He pulled into a parking place in front of the diner where Wanda worked and walked up to the front entrance. Wanda was there, waiting on a customer.

Aaron hurried back to his car, dropped by his house to pick up his medical bag and drove to Wanda’s house. He climbed the steps to the front door and punched the doorbell. After a minute, he knocked but still heard no response, and since the front door was locked, he walked around the side of the house and peered into several windows. Curtains were pulled closed, and he gained no visual perspective until he reached a window at the rear of the house. He could see through a slit at one side of the curtain, and with multiple viewing angles, he was able to make out a bed in the middle of a room. A portable toilet was nearby, and a person lay in the bed, covered up to the head with a sheet.

Aaron tapped on the window, but the person didn’t stir. He tapped louder, and then he saw movement. A man pulled himself up in bed, turned his head, and looked toward the window.

“Open the back door,” Aaron shouted, then he trotted over to the door.

He heard movement and then the release of latches, and the door creaked open a crack.

Sid Taggett was on his knees, his shoulder propped against the doorjamb.

“I’m Dr. Aaron Rovsing. Can I talk with you?”

Sid swung the door open wide, and Aaron stepped into the house. He winced at the smell of urine as he helped Sid to his feet.

Aaron looked up at a frail man, about six feet tall, with sunken eyes and skin hanging from his cheekbones like beige crepe on a skeleton.

Sid collapsed into Aaron’s arms. “You’re just skin and bones,” Aaron said.

“I used to be strong.”

Aaron helped him back to the edge of his bed.

“Does Wanda know you’re here?” Sid said.

“No.”

“You’ve got to help me, Doc.”

“What’s happening to you? Why are you sick?”

“I don’t know. I’m real weak.” Sid struggled to speak. “I fall asleep all the time . . . and I’m getting these horrible headaches when I’m awake.” He took several breaths and lowered his head. “Look. In the last few weeks, my hair has been falling out.”

Aaron noticed his scalp with random swatches of white hair among patches of baldness.

As he raised his balding head, Aaron’s eyes widened. Sid had no eyelashes.

“How long have you been feeling bad?” Aaron said.

“I can’t remember exactly. I have trouble remembering things . . . It’s got to be months and months.” He put his hand on Aaron’s shoulder and took several deep breaths. “I feel like I’m dying. I can’t go on like this.”

“What did the hospital doctors tell you?”

“That I have some kind of nerve disease . . . Wanda says they don’t know which one.”

“Are you on any medications?”

“I think I was, once . . . Now, Wanda gives me a liquid medicine.”

“What kind of medicine?”

“She says it’s strong vitamins, to build my strength.”

“Where does she keep it?”

“She locks it in a cabinet . . . in the kitchen, I think.”

Aaron walked to the kitchen area and spotted a cabinet with a lock. He pulled on the cabinet knobs, but the doors wouldn’t open. “Do you know where she keeps the key?”

“I’m sure she keeps it with her.”

Aaron looked around the area and opened a few drawers but didn’t find any keys.

“Doc, I need to lie down.”

Aaron returned to Sid’s bed and helped him recline.

“Wanda checks on me every few hours . . . Sometimes she calls, but sometimes she comes home.” He took several breaths. “I don’t think she’d be happy to find you here.”

“Can I do a quick physical exam on you?”

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.”

       Aaron opened his medical bag, pulled out his stethoscope, and applied it to Sid’s bony chest. He then palpated the abdomen and extremities. “You’ve definitely got some unusual, wasting illness.”

“That’s how I feel, like I’m wasting away.”

Aaron saw something under the edge of Sid’s pillow. “What’s this?” He held up a black cloth pouch, tied at the top with cord.

“I don’t know. Wanda puts it under my pillow. She says it’ll help me get better.”

Aaron felt hard round objects in the pouch. He loosened the cord and looked inside. Mixed in with dust were several stones of various bright colors, long strands of white hair, small bones, and a dried lizard.

Some kind of witchcraft?
Aaron thought. His palm began to feel heat from the pouch. “Geez.” He retied the pouch and thrust it under Sid’s pillow.
I’ll leave that thing alone for now.

“I’m leaving,” Aaron said. “I’ll research this to see if any tests are indicated that I can do. I’d like to find out what’s really wrong with you.”

If Wanda’s his legal caretaker, I’ll probably have to get her consent to test him
.

Aaron repacked his medical bag and looked at Sid. “Do you need to lock up behind me?”

“No, she’ll just think Race came in.”

“Race is your son?”

“He’s my stepson, Wanda’s son. I adopted him when he was a child.”

“Where is he?”

“Probably at work at the cemetery . . . I don’t talk to him much anymore.”

“What does he do at the cemetery?”

“Odd jobs whenever they need him . . . He digs graves.” Sid took a deep breath. “Most people steer clear of him. You probably should, too.”

Aaron walked toward the back door and stopped. He looked back at Sid. “I’ll do my best to help you.”

He saw a flicker of a smile on Sid’s face.

As Aaron stepped out the back door, he heard soft snoring from Sid’s bed. He stopped at his car and stared back at the Taggett’s house.

Something’s not right in there
.
Why would she lock up vitamins, and what is that pouch under the pillow?

He glanced in his rearview mirror as he drove away.
Why would Sid say that I should avoid his stepson, Race Taggett?

 

Aaron remembered what the car dealer Dale McCorkindale had recommended, so for dinner he savored spicy Tex-Mex chicken enchiladas and a fruity margarita at a restaurant about twenty minutes from his house.

After the meal, he explored country roads that bordered his town and the Big Thicket nearby. At one point, he stopped his car at the side of the road and stepped out. He was alone on the road, and the wind ruffled his hair as he looked up at towering trees swaying in tight rows just a few feet from the road shoulder. At times, he heard the breeze moan from deep within the forest. A chill passed over him.

He lifted a hand up to the trees. “Why am I even here? I’m a New Englander. What the hell am I doing in this strange place?”

A gust of stale wind blasted his face and knocked him back.

Aaron jumped back into his car and sped off to town with his windows down, eventually turning onto the road to his house. His car headlights were on low beam, and the moon over him was almost full. He hummed along with a country song on the radio. “Wow, that is one vengeful lover.” He glanced at the radio song information: ‘Tornado,’ by Little Big Town. “That poor sap sure picked the wrong woman to cheat on.”

As he approached the intersection near his home, he saw Marley and Cristal Brighton walking up their driveway. Pulling his car to the side of the road in front of their house, he waved and walked over to them.

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