Healing Grace (21 page)

It was no one’s business but hers what happened next. She certainly couldn’t allow anyone to see what her own hand looked like. It would remain broken and red for a few days until the marks slowly faded. The miracle didn’t happen every time, this transferring of her patient’s hurts. No one, not even Reverend Edwards, could explain why it happened one time and not another. She couldn’t tell when her sacrifice was required and when it was not. For Jimmy, tonight it was a small price to pay.

She’d take a couple of days off when Greg got back. Just hide out until she was better and no one would be the wiser. Sinking to the stool in the darkened exam room, she allowed herself a few moments of pity, to moan and rock over her hand before wrapping it with her special aloe salve and clean gauze. She bit her lip and drove back to her house, cradling her hurt hand in her lap.

* * * *

Randy took Jimmy to a second follow-up visit. After the nurse was through, they waited for the specialist to take a look.

“When did you say this happened, again?” Doctor Rutgers at Bay Bridge Hospital pinched his nose between his fingers. Frown lines furrowed either side of his mouth as he examined the health of the skin and bones. He continually switched between the images Grace had shot with the X-ray unit at the clinic and the boy’s hand, and shook his head. “I just saw this a couple of days ago, correct?”

“It’s not right?” Randy tried to keep the fear from his voice. “Where else should we—”

“Remarkable! You are one lucky young man to have this clean a hand after what you told me. It looks as if the incident happened weeks ago. There’s no sign of infection.”

“So it’s going to be okay?” Randy asked. “She did everything right?”

Jimmy looked at him, pursed his mouth, and rolled his eyes in the way he hated. “Da-ad, of course she did. Grace is good.”

Rutgers continued to stare and twist Jimmy’s hand.

Jimmy let them know he wasn’t thrilled. “Ouch, man, do you really gotta do that?”

“Firecracker, you said?” Rutgers shook his head again. “On the beach? Sand and dirt. Remarkable. Excuse me, I have to make a phone call. Wait right here, please.”

* * * *

Greg accepted the call from Rutgers. On his first day back from the solitary vacation he’d taken in three years he was dizzy with catching up.

“I want to talk to you about one of your cases,” Rutgers said.

Greg sighed. Rutgers’s tone contained that little something in between professional courtesy and professional complaint. He was pretty sure he knew which case Rutgers meant.

“Burn accident—teenager—came in to see your PA.”

Just as he figured, and though he liked the thought of Grace being “his” he had to keep to the topic at hand. “Did my PA do anything inappropriate?”

“Unless filing misleading paperwork is considered appropriate now at your clinic. That wound could not have taken place only four days ago.”

“And what would my PA have to gain by filing misleading paperwork, Rutgers?” Greg picked up the file on his desk and began to page through it again. Arrogant SOB. He switched over to his computer monitor to check the images of the healing hand sent by Rutgers’s office, taken the day after and today.

Rutgers had a point, but Greg would defend Grace if it meant his license. Good thing the complaint was Grace had done too good of a job rather than the other way around. He switched the intercom of the phone unit on, and swiveled in his chair, hands behind his head.

“You tell me, Evans. I don’t know why anyone would do this—”

“My PA has, ah, some special talents—in the medical field,” Greg broke into the tirade. “Matty even says she has a gift. There’s this salve she brought back from the hills of Tennessee where she was before—”

“Mumbo-jumbo hillbilly stuff! Really! Did she do a dance, too? I’m afraid I’m going to have to report this.”

Greg sat up straight and leaned into the telephone as if he were staring into his unhappy colleague’s eyes. “Doctor, with enough witnesses to report that the incident happened just the way they said it did, you don’t have much of a case. That would solve nothing and bring unwarranted and unwanted attention on both our clinics and the hospital. Do you really want that? Runyon did nothing wrong! In fact, she did more than right by her patient, as you attested to yourself.”

He didn’t know what Grace did other than what she wrote in her report and he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to lose her because Rutgers was jealous.

He grasped at straws with his next statement, but he had to deter Rutgers.

“I had this salve analyzed when she first started using it, and there’s nothing more than aloe gel and vitamin D, and jojoba oil, she says she sometimes adds. Capsaicin for arthritis which, believe me, does do wonders for some of my patients. I use it myself, but not with the kind of success she has,” he told Rutgers. “Come on, man. She’s been here nearly a year now. I’m not going to question this, and I urge you not to, either.”

“I’m still keeping a close eye on this. If I find so much as—”

Greg punched off the intercom and picked up the handset after a suitable pause.

“Thanks for checking up. If you’ll excuse me, now, I have patients. Good day.”

* * * *

Randy couldn’t stop time. He knew that. But if he could, he would have made August last another month so he had more time making things right with his son before the boy went to college. Jimmy had so much to learn about life, about making choices. But first…

“You have to pay the consequences. Not only did you get hurt doing a stupid, dangerous illegal act,” Randy said, trying not to notice that he had to look
up
into Jimmy’s face, “you could have had your life changed forever. What if you’d lost your hand? How impressed would this young lady be then?”

They stood outside the back screen door of Kaye’s Café. Jimmy leaned against the wall, hunched, serious and not sullen for once. The white bandages around his hand were in stark contrast from the tan of his skin.

Tanya was on her break, in her white serving apron with her hair pulled back severely from her face. “It’s really my fault, Mr. Marshall,” she mumbled.

Randy couldn’t help it—he stared at her, making an effort to keep his jaw tight.

“You see, Jimmy was just trying to, um, well…” Apparently flustered, she bent her head and mumbled, “to, um, impress me, I guess.”

Jimmy nodded.

Somewhere inside glassware clinked. A dishwasher started gurgling. Used french fry grease mingled unpleasantly with a strong disinfectant.

“He stopped texting me right before Christmas and I was, well, mad about it.”

Jimmy went pale under his tan at Tanya’s confession and closed his eyes.

Randy remembered the feeling, nearly nineteen years ago, when a relationship went south. “So you didn’t hear from Jimmy, and for that you write him off? Sounds like an excuse to dump him, if you ask me.”

Jimmy cut in. “No, Dad. I don’t know if you knew this, but Mom stopped Internet service at home in January ’cause the company changed, and so did the rates and stuff.”

Randy took a deep breath. “For the love of a stamp, you get yourselves in this kind of trouble.” Then he laughed. “I can’t be the one throwing stones here.”

“Dad…”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, work something out, you two, before you blow up something bigger.”

Randy started to walk away. “Oh, yeah. Jimmy, you’re not allowed to play with matches for the rest of the summer, and of course, those fellows from Soo—well, they’re not welcome here anymore.” He thought some more. “And your dates have to be supervised by me or Kaye.” He frowned and walked on, and then turned back. “One more thing. That fine for the fireworks on the beach without a permit? You have to pay half.”

“Okay, Dad.” With a little backward glance at Tanya, Jimmy stumbled over to him. “Dad—just, thanks.”

“Sure.” He nodded at Tanya who stood watching them with an anxious expression; one foot crooked to her knee, ponytail wrapped neatly in a bun. Kids.

He’d been no different. He rubbed the bristly new buzz cut of his hair and turned away. He’d been that young, that self-assured mixed with terror about the future; so stupid he’d never thought about any consequences. Certainly not parenthood. Would he be any different at this stage of life? Be a better dad, for instance, if he’d done things in the right order and waited for the right person… Water under the bridge.

The sound of Kaye’s laughter drifted out the screen door. She did a good job, parenting her niece. She should have married, had kids of her own. She still could, of course. But not with his brother.

Ted wondered again if he was doing the right thing.

Kaye swore she’d seen Grace at the Seagull Inn. He wanted to respect her privacy, but concern overrode his senses.

She’d disappeared nearly a week ago, just after Jimmy’s accident. There’d been a note, sure—something about taking a little vacation for a few days. She planned to drive up the coast. “Don’t forget to feed Trigger and the kittens.”

Memories of her white, drawn face at the clinic that night made him feel selfish and rude, mean. Last year he had simply expected her to step into his life and make it easier for him to go on dying while taking care of his child, and now his nephew, without thinking about her needs. He mentally kicked himself when he recalled the harsh words over her getting a job in the first place. Fighting like husband and wife who were not very nice to each other. Something he’d been good at once.

What about him? Not for the first time, he wondered if he could ask her to help Randy with Eddy when he had passed on, or maybe even take him. Randy was out of town so much, and not the best parenting material as this episode with Jimmy showed. Be fair—he’s hardly gotten to know his own child. Jimmy grew up in a different household. The main thing was to ensure Jilly would not get her hands on Eddy—ever. A blood relative would go far making sure that never happened. If somehow Grace and Randy got together…

Eddy loved her. She had to be all right. It didn’t matter that he loved her, too. If he was going to die in peace, he needed to know his son would be safe.

He stopped in the parking lot of the inn, next to her car. Slumped in the seat, he felt like a stalker as he waited. The breeze off Lake Michigan cooled his face. The sun lulled him while he wrestled with his decision to go in and confront her or leave her alone. A half-hour later he decided to go. As he turned around ready to pull onto the road he saw her sitting on a dune facing the water. She brushed hair off of her face. He waited until she did it again, tucking her flying hair back around her left ear. Yes—something white like a bandage wrapped around her hand.

Why wouldn’t she want anyone to know that she’d been hurt—obviously while working on Jimmy? Unless there was something with Jimmy that he didn’t know about—didn’t want to know. Young man, loose in Sault Ste. Marie, tattoo parlors with all the sailors coming through; anything could happen. Ted hurried out of the parking lot back to his brother’s house.

Jimmy was playing a one-handed game of catch with Eddy in the backyard. Ted sent his son into the house for Popsicles and then confronted his nephew.

“You been sick lately? You have hepatitis, or AIDS?” Ted took a menacing step closer and grabbed the boy’s shirt. “Been a user, Jimmy? Did the deed with any of your friends who got sick?”

Jimmy’s face turned white and then red. He peeled Ted’s fist away and backed up, shouting. “Hey, man! What are you talking about? I’m not like that—I’m clean!”

“Then you want to tell me about the night Grace fixed you up at the hospital? If you hurt her in any way…”

Jimmy shook his head and drew his brows together. He bent to pick up the ball. “She helped me—she was good, and she was all right when she walked me out.”

Ted shook his head in denial. “Where would she have gotten hurt?” He turned, gathering himself for a lunge, but betrayed by a leg that wouldn’t obey him quickly enough, fell heavily on the lawn. Jimmy hunched down close, though not close enough to get within arm reach.

Ted painfully heaved himself into a sitting position. Eddy, trailing red Popsicle juice like blood dripping over his arms and bare legs, came barreling out the door and pushed Jimmy away.

“Whoa!” Ted called out. Eddy crawled into his lap, glaring up at his big cousin. “That’s enough.”

Jimmy rolled over and threw his arm over his eyes.

Ted took a deep breath, rallying his strength for the effort to rise. “Hey, Eds, isn’t that one of the kittens?” Eddy slipped away to investigate.

Jimmy spoke, low and quick. “Something’s weird, man, when Grace was helpin’ me I swear I saw her hand and it looked as bad as my own. I must have been hallucinatin’, though. She held my hand in hers—no gloves. I thought that was kind of strange, but I’ve never been in that kind of situation before, so I didn’t know, it coulda been the right thing. It must have been my blood on her hand…”

“Okay, okay. I believe you.” He’d always figured there were secrets she hadn’t shared, something she had to hide about what happened back in Tennessee. He hadn’t cared. It hadn’t affected him before. But this… Randy needed to know. They deserved to know. But he would have to wait until she came back.

* * * *

Ted watched Grace’s return and limped over to confront her as she opened her car door.

“What’s wrong with your hand? Why did you go away?”

“It’s none of your business, Ted.”

“You’re wrong.” Ted stared into her eyes as if he could pull the answers out of her. “I need it to be. Did you hurt yourself working on Jimmy? Is there a problem I should know about? It’s been over a year since you came into my-my life, and I can’t help it Grace—I just want to… I don’t want to see you hurt—for any reason. I can’t stand for me or my family to cause you any more pain.”

“I needed a break, Ted. That’s all. A vacation, because, like you said, it’s been over a year. Why would you think I’d been hurt?”

Ted was uncomfortable knowing she could see him struggle for words. Had he become a stalker? He turned to stare at the dead apple orchard. “I care. About you. And my son and Randy’s. If there’s something you’re keeping from us, anything else that could interfere with…my family,” he gritted out, shaking his head. “I have no right to feel this way.”