Seduced by Moonlight (3 page)

“She's going to be okay,” she said. It was more a prayer than a statement. Looking at Katy, she said, “Go tell Gerald he needs to contact Amy's primary and fill him or her in. He might be too upset to remember that.”

Amy's primary physician was probably the doctor who had been in charge of the emergency room when she had been admitted. When parents or guardians weren't the ones to bring in a child, the child was treated like any other indigent. She got whomever was on duty.

“Amy, you've got to fight, do you hear me?” Cherisse whispered. “Fight to stay here with us.”

She was still standing there holding Amy's hand when Gerald returned. “Dr. Mahoney's on the way. He says good call on the phenobarb.”

Cherisse smiled. Some doctors became incensed when a nurse diagnosed and prescribed on the spot the way she had done.

Dr. Phillip Mahoney was well-liked by the nurses because of his unerring belief that good nurses were essential to the well-being of his patients.

“He's one of the good guys,” she said of Dr. Mahoney. Then she left Gerald alone with his patient.

It was after one before Cherisse got a chance to grab some lunch. She sat at a table outside at the cafeteria annex on the first floor. All of the umbrella-topped tables were occupied with either hospital staff or visitors, even the occasional ambulatory patient on a normal diet who was tired of eating in his room.

It was also the only place where you could use your cell phone. They were prohibited inside the building.

She dialed the house. She and Danielle lived with her mother in a Victorian that had been in the Patterson family for over a hundred years. Her mother, Joann—called Jo by friends and family—often threatened to move to Arizona with her sister, Bettye, and leave the house to Cherisse. She never believed her because Jo was too wrapped up in the community. She thought her mother would die without her circle of friends. Besides, living in that big house without Jo around wouldn't be half as much fun.

Jo picked up on the fourth ring. Cherisse figured she'd interrupted her mom's favorite soap,
All My Children.
“Mmm, huh, hold on just a second,” Jo said. “Adam Chandler's about to profess his love for his ex-wife and beg her to come back to him, again!”

“Will he ever learn?” Cherisse asked.

“I doubt it,” Jo said. She laughed loudly. “Oh, my, she turned him down. That'll just make him try harder.”

“Rich men,” Cherisse said, “don't know how to take ‘no' for an answer.”

“You've got that right,” Jo chortled. “That's why I like him. Okay. He's gone now. What's up, baby?”

“How did your granddaughter get to school today?” Cherisse wanted to know.

“Don't worry, she didn't take the car,” Jo said. Cherisse had forbade Danielle to drive her car to school for two weeks because Danielle had let someone else drive it, violating the terms of the insurance policy on the car. The only persons listed in the policy were Danielle and Cherisse.

“I think I saw Echo's car in the driveway this morning,” said Jo.

Echo was Edward James Thornton, also a senior and Danielle's best friend. Cherisse might have been leery of Danielle's spending so much time with a guy if not for the fact that Echo was obviously gay. He hadn't come out to friends or family yet, but Cherisse didn't know any straight men who could cook, sew and knew all the songs from the Broadway musical
Rent
.

Of course his being able to cook and sew could be attributed to the fact that he was the only child of a single working mother, and his mother had taught him the skills so he would be able to take care of himself in her absence. But loving musicals, in Cherisse's experience, was not a male thing. Charlie used to complain loudly and vociferously whenever she rented one. When she was growing up her father used to leave the room whenever she and her mom watched one on television.

Edward James Thornton had earned his nickname because he was always mimicking any song he heard, singing them word for word. His friends started saying he sounded like an echo, and the name stuck. His favorite singers were invariably female. Cherisse knew she shouldn't label the boy, but the signs were there.

“All right,” Cherisse said of Danielle's getting a lift from Echo that morning. “I was just checking.”

“She's a good girl,” Jo said, defending her granddaughter.

“I know, Ma, but when she does wrong, she has to pay the price. You never let me get away with anything.”

“Sure, I did,” her mother disagreed. “One of them was car-related. I know you and Sonia took that little Toyota I used to own when you were in high school for a joyride one lazy summer afternoon. Your father and I had gone to Boulder to visit friends and I told you not to drive my car. I was worried you might get into an accident and your father and I would be all the way in Boulder. But the next day Bea Wilson told me she saw you and Sonia tearing out of the driveway in my car acting like a couple of prisoners let out of Alcatraz. Free at last, free at last!”

“And you never said anything!” Cherisse cried, laughing.

“Well, you didn't get hurt or cause an accident,” Jo said reasonably. “And you had sense enough to put gas in the car before returning it to the garage. Besides, if I had made a big deal out of it, your father would have probably grounded you for life.”

“Probably,” Cherisse agreed. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Just remember this the next time Danielle does something stupid,” her mother said.

“Gotcha,” said Cherisse. “I'd better go.”

“Wait a minute,” Jo said hurriedly. “John Santiago phoned this morning. He says he's found Danielle a sponsor.”

Cherisse frowned. She knew she should be happy that Danielle excelled at skiing. She was undoubtedly going to be athletically gifted, with her genes: her father played professional football and Cherisse had been quite the athlete herself in high school. Even though she was only five-seven, she had been the forward on the basketball team, and what she lacked in height she made up in determination. Her team had been state champs three years in a row. These days she jogged and lifted weights.

Nevertheless, she had misgivings about Danielle's downhill skiing because it was such a dangerous sport. One spill and her baby could sustain several broken bones. She was nervous every time Danielle competed.

Recently, Danielle's coach, John Santiago, who also ran a youth program for minority kids who were interested in winter sports like skiing and snowboarding, was saying that Danielle had a good chance of qualifying for the Olympics.

Cherisse had always told Danielle she could be whatever she wanted to be. In spite of her fears for Danielle's safety she couldn't, now, start telling her to set her sights on a sport that was less dangerous.

“He's really serious about Danielle going to the Olympic trials!” Cherisse exclaimed in her mother's ear.

“It appears so,” said Jo.

“Did he say who the sponsor was?”

“Harrison Payne, the ex-quarterback for the Broncos,” Jo answered. Jo was a fan. She'd lived in Denver all her life and when he was alive, she and Jake, Cherisse's father, had tried to go to all of the home games.

“I keep hearing that name,” Cherisse said.

“Whose name, Harrison Payne's?” asked Jo.

Cherisse reminded her mother that she'd told her about her visit to the Karibu Resort over the weekend and meeting a guy named Harry. Then she told her about her conversation with Katy about Harry Payne. “Now, John Santiago has recruited him.”

“Maybe it's a sign,” said her superstitious mother.

Cherisse laughed softly. “Yeah, it's a sign that I am totally clueless when it comes to football. I have a feeling he's the same Harry I had a memorable conversation with on the balcony at the resort Saturday night.”

“Well, you'll find out soon enough,” Jo said. “John wants you and Danielle to drive up to Vail this weekend to meet him.”

“But it'll be Thanksgiving weekend,” Cherisse protested. She had little time with Danielle as it was. She was looking forward to some quality time with her seventeen-year-old daughter.

“John says you've been invited to spend Saturday night at the resort. Free, of course. You can't pass that up. I hear it's pretty ritzy. Danielle will love it. If it weren't such a shameless ploy, I'd try to wangle an invitation myself.”

Cherisse's beeper went off at her waist. “Mom, I'm being beeped. See you tonight.”

“'Bye, baby, hope it isn't anything awful,” Jo commiserated before hanging up.

Cherisse got up and quickly disposed of the rest of her bag lunch in the nearby trash receptacle. She paused long enough to glance down at the readout on the beeper's tiny screen. It had been Sonia who had summoned her. She hurried to the bank of elevators on the first floor.

As soon as she stepped off the elevator onto the fifth floor she heard a woman's voice raised in anger. It was coming from the direction of the staff lounge.

S
onia was coming out of the staff lounge as Cherisse approached. Her friend looked mad enough to spit bullets. “David Pedersen just threatened to fire Mary,” she reported.

“What is Mary doing here, she's not due on until eleven,” Cherisse said, confused.

Sonia rolled her eyes. “Apparently she came back to get something out of her locker. Pedersen was in the lounge eating lunch and saw her.”

Cherisse's stomach muscles tightened painfully at the mention of Mary coming in to work to get something she'd left in her locker. “Dear God, please tell me it wasn't liquor!”

Sonia screwed up her mocha-colored face. “You guessed it.”

Cherisse strode past her, entering the lounge. Mary stopped talking as soon as she saw Cherisse, and walked over to her. “He can't fire me, can he, Cheri?” she asked loudly, pleadingly.

Cherisse went to her and grabbed her by both arms. “First of all, Mary, you've got to calm down. Remember, we've got sick children on the floor who're depending on us to provide a healing environment.”

Cherisse knew that appealing to the nurse in Mary would be more effective than ordering her around. Mary, in spite of her drinking, was devoted to the patients.

Cherisse could feel the tension leave Mary's body as she held on to her. Mary looked her in the eyes. “I'm sorry, Cheri. That man brings out the worst in me.”

David Pedersen was standing in front of the sink in the room that was furnished with a stove, a refrigerator and several tables and chairs for the staff's use. His arms were obstinately folded in front of him, and his eyes were cold and uncompromising. “I told you that if you didn't handle it, I would have to,” he said to Cherisse.

“Handle what?” Mary asked softly, appealing to Cherisse. “I haven't done anything wrong. Have the patients complained?”

“No,” said Cherisse, holding Mary's gaze with the force of her own. “No patient has complained, but several of your co-workers have smelled liquor on your breath and they—
we
—are concerned that if you can't stop drinking while on the job, things are only going to get worse. Look at yourself, Mary. What did you come down here for?”

Mary looked guilty. Her brown eyes lowered, and her bottom lip started to tremble. Cherisse knew that tears weren't far behind. But tears weren't going to make her reluctant to say what she should have said months ago.

“I'm going to have to put you on temporary leave until you get help, Mary. I have no alternative. I have the patients' well-being to think about. Plus the fact that if you're drunk on the job and there is an emergency, I don't think you'll be able to do it if you're incapacitated. Go home, Mary, and don't come back until you can show me proof that you're seeking help for your alcoholism. And when you do return, which I hope you will, if anyone reports that you're still drinking on the job, I'm going to have to let you go.”

Mary collapsed into sobs. Cherisse calmly pulled her into her arms. “Now, I love you, Mary. You're one of the nurses I looked up to most when I first came here.” Mary was one of the older African-American nurses, and she immediately took to Cherisse when she began working at Mercy. Already with a bachelor's degree, and working on her master's after her divorce, Cherisse had been motivated to go as far in the nursing field as she could so that she would be able to take care of Danielle and not have to rely on child support from Charlie, which never came with any regularity.

“I know you miss Trey,” Cherisse continued soothingly. Trey, Mary's twenty-five-year-old son, had been killed in Iraq more than a year ago. “And that big house of yours feels so empty you probably hate to be there.” Mary's husband, Clarence, died two years before Trey was killed. Now all she had in the way of relatives was a very ungrateful twenty-three-year-old daughter who had gone to Los Angeles right out of high school and became a video dancer. Not a very successful one because she was always calling her mom to hit her up for money.

“Think of Trey and Clarence,” Cherisse softly said in Mary's ear. “They would want you to be happy and healthy. They loved you so much.”

“I loved them,” Mary said, weeping.

“Then respect their memory by living a long, happy life,” Cherisse told her. “Besides,” she whispered, “Eve is just waiting for you to drink yourself to death so she can come back here, sell the house and live the good life in L.A. until the money runs out. Then she'll be on the street. You can't let that happen to your little darling.”

Mary actually laughed through her tears. Many nights, she and Cherisse had comforted each other about the antics of their daughters. Eve had always been a wild child and Mary had no control whatsoever over her. From the time she became a teen, Eve had been sneaking out of her bedroom window in the middle of the night to be with boys. She'd stolen money and other valuables from her mom, gotten arrested for shoplifting more than once and propositioned the cop who had booked her the last time if he would let her go.

Danielle had also been caught climbing out of her bedroom window in the middle of the night, but not to meet boys, rather to go to late-night clubs with her girlfriends. The girl loved to dance, and her mother forbade her to stay out late, so she had taken it upon herself to disobey her. Cherisse had put the fear of God in her, promising her that the next time she climbed out of her window in the middle of the night, she was going to have all the locks changed on the doors and have bars put on the windows. Plus, she was going to take her down to the local police station and ask her friend Taz Coffman, a sergeant, to put her in lockup for a few hours to see how she liked it.

Danielle had never sneaked out again.

Cherisse released Mary, and the older woman wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Still laughing, she said, “Come on, Cheri, if you wanted me to get off the booze, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to threaten me with the thought of Eve blowing my money when I'm dead!”

“I have to use whatever I have at my disposal,” Cherisse said with a smile. “May I have what you came for today?” She held out her hand.

Mary closed her eyes momentarily and sighed. But she went into her shoulder bag and withdrew the pint of Jim Beam wrapped in a brown paper bag and handed it to Cherisse.

“You want me to drive you home?” Cherisse asked.

“No, I took the commuter train,” Mary said. Mary also lived in the Five Points area and the commuter train was convenient to that neighborhood because it ended at 30th and Downing streets, an easy walk for many Five Pointers.

“Okay,” said Cherisse, looking Mary straight in the eye. “I expect you back here as soon as you get yourself together.”

Mary gave her a quick hug and turned to leave the room, but not before leveling an evil glance in David Pedersen's direction.

David visibly winced.

When Mary had gone, David sighed with relief. “That woman called me everything but a child of God,” he said. “I think she should see a mental health professional.”

Cherisse rounded on him. “I specifically asked you not to say anything to Mary,” she said menacingly, her eyes flashing angrily. Pointing a finger, she reiterated exactly what she had said to him that morning. “Please don't interfere, David. I'll handle it.”

She stomped her foot. “Did you not understand me? Or was Mary's presence here too much of a temptation for you to resist saying anything? Yeah, she drinks too much. Yeah, she was caught drinking on the job and something had to be done about it. But you didn't have to scare the poor woman half to death by saying she was fired.”

“I never said she was fired,” David said, defending himself. He rubbed what must have been a sweaty palm down the front of his immaculate navy blue slacks. “I only said that if she couldn't control her drinking she could end up without a job. I never said she was fired.”

“Coming from you,” Cherisse told him, “it means the same thing. That's why nobody feels comfortable coming to you with a personal problem, David. Mary is a human being. She's a widow and her son, the apple of her eye, was killed in Iraq defending his country. Why couldn't you have shown some compassion? Or, at least, restrained yourself from causing misery to a woman who is already pretty miserable?”

“If I had known…” David began.

“If you had asked me anything about Mary's personal life, I would have told you,” Cherisse said. “But, you didn't.”

“I can't be expected to tiptoe around someone with personal problems,” David said. “It's my job to run this hospital as efficiently as possible and to avoid as many lawsuits as I can. A drunken nurse is a lawsuit waiting to happen. It was my duty to say something to Mary Thomas. If I was lacking in tact I apologize. But I will not apologize for doing my job.”

“Nobody expects you to,” Cherisse said softly. And that said it all. No one on the staff would expect human kindness from David Pedersen.

Turning to leave, Cherisse said, “I've got work to do.”

When she returned to the nurses' station, Sonia was waiting to get an update on the situation. Cherisse gave her a shortened version.

“I'll go check on her after I get off from work,” Sonia volunteered, agreeing to look out for a co-worker and a friend.

“And I'll go the next day,” Cherisse said.

Sonia snapped to when one of her patients' room numbers lit up on the monitor bank.

“That's Hilary. She probably needs to go to the bathroom again. Sweet kid, she's so happy she isn't on the colostomy bag anymore.”

“Who wouldn't be?” Cherisse cracked. “Yuck!”

They both laughed.

 

That night, Cherisse got home after a twelve-hour shift just in time to sit down and have a late dinner with her mother and daughter.

The house sat on a quiet tree-lined street amid other older homes. Yards were kept neatly manicured and no junk cars were allowed on the front lawns, but it wasn't unusual to see a father and son—or daughter—working on their car in the driveway of their home on a Saturday morning. That's the kind of neighborhood it was—family-oriented.

While some of the original families had sold their homes to the highest bidders, most of the families on Cherisse's street were third- and fourth-generation Five Pointers.

Cherisse put her key in the lock of the front door, an oak door with a stained-glass window in its upper portion. The image in the stained glass was of an angel floating in the air, wings spread, gently nudging a lost child in the direction of home. Jo called it “the lost sheep.”

Cherisse didn't get the chance to get the door fully open before Danielle swung it open and yelled, “Mom's home!”

She grabbed her mother's shoulder bag and helped her out of her coat, a normal ritual at the end of the day. Then she briefly hugged her mother and kissed her on the cheek.

“Did you hear, Ma?” she asked excitedly, her dark chocolate eyes, so much like her father's, sparkling with happiness. “Harry Payne has agreed to back me for the Olympics!” She jumped up and down with her mother's shoulder bag and coat clasped to her chest.

Cherisse couldn't help laughing. “Yes, yes, I heard. Congratulations!”

Danielle pulled herself together long enough to deposit her mother's coat on the hall tree and the shoulder bag inside the adjacent closet on the top shelf, after which she regarded her mother again. “We've got to do something about your wardrobe before we go to Vail this weekend.”

Her eyes raked over her mother's body and obviously found it wanting. “And we need to tame that wild hair of yours, too.”

At thirty-seven, Cherisse's hair had very little gray in it, fell halfway down her back, was thick and naturally wavy. She hadn't been to a salon in years. For one thing, she could never find the time, what with her work schedule. For another, she had no desire to waste three hours or more sitting in a salon pretending to be patient with the stylist, who had overbooked and therefore made the customers wait for hours, while she was really dreaming up ways to murder her.

“I have a perfectly functional wardrobe,” Cherisse said, walking back to the kitchen where she knew her mother probably was. “And you're not touching my hair. After thirty-seven years I've finally got it the way I want it. There are no chemicals in it, and it's healthy.”

Danielle, who was five-nine and weighed 155 pounds, was taller and weighed more than her mother. She had her mother's unruly hair which she tamed by having it braided within an inch of its life, and tying all of the long plaits together at the nape of her neck with colorful ribbons. With her active lifestyle, she couldn't have her hair flopping in her face every time she went flying down a mountain on skis.

She followed her mother into the kitchen where the three of them had dinner together as often as their schedules permitted. She plopped down in a chair at the table while her mother went to kiss her grandmother's cheek.

She smiled. The two women were her greatest sources of strength, and she knew it. Her mother may not have been aware of it, but she did appreciate everything she and her grandmother had done for her. Probably the greatest gift they'd given her was the knowledge that a Patterson woman—okay, she was technically a Washington because that was her dad's name but she felt more like a Patterson—could be and do anything she envisioned.