Waiting for Daybreak (29 page)
“God, will you please tell Mr. Bartlett it wasn’t my fault? I want him to know that.”
A twang of something ran through her, and it felt a lot like guilt. She shook her head. “Well, it wasn’t. The nurse wrote it, the doctor signed it. I filled it just like it was written.” The feeling did not subside, in spite of her logic. But it was true. She did not carry the blame.
She remembered the nightmares she’d had so many times, of Mr. Bartlett’s seizure behind the wheel. “You know what, I’m not backing down here. The blame is at least fifty percent the nurse’s who wrote it down wrong, and the other fifty percent was the doctor’s who signed it.”
Her words were true. Why didn’t they give her any relief?
“Okay, maybe three percent of the blame is mine. But that is three out of one hundred. Get it? Not my fault!”
Three percent.
Three percent blame in a man’s death.
The thought battered her with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. How was she supposed to live with that?
Until this very moment she’d insulated herself with the knowledge that she carried the lesser blame. But any blame was too much. A man lay in a grave in Atlanta, and if she had taken extra precaution, he’d still be with his family today. Maybe watching his granddaughter’s ballet recital, or his grandson’s little league game.
Paige leaned her head back against the sofa cushions and thought about the wreck. What must Mr. Bartlett have felt when his limbs started to jerk as he drove down the interstate? Did he see the toddler in the other car, try his very best to control his arms one last time so that he avoided hitting her? Maybe he was a hero, and they would never know. Because he hadn’t lived to tell them.
Then a thought occurred that rocked her even more. What percentage blame was hers for Ora’s heart attack? If she had told the truth to the board inspector that very first day, would this still have happened? Was her cover-up even now putting more people in danger?
She went to her wallet and found the business card she’d put there over a month ago. She knew the office was closed, but if she didn’t make this call now, she might change her mind. She punched in the appropriate numbers on her cell phone and held her breath until it clicked over to voice mail.
“This is Paige Woodward. I’d like to make an appointment to see Gary Powell. It’s about my time at Richardson Apothecary,” she said and left a call-back number. This was something that she had to do if she was ever going to sleep with a clear conscience again.
“What would make you lie to cover up a mistake of a co-worker, if you weren’t even involved in the mistake?”
Paige forced herself to meet Gary Powell’s gaze directly. “Because I’ve seen firsthand how someone can twist a mistake around and destroy someone else’s life.”
“I understand where you’re coming from, but there
was
a death in Atlanta.”
“Mr. Bartlett’s situation was a tragedy—” Paige tried to blink away her memories of the sweet older man “—and I’ve come to accept the fact that I do share in the blame for it. But he is not the reason I have trouble finding a job, he’s not even the reason I got fired in the first place. Basically, my life was ruined because of the mother’s lawsuit. The mother who was driving a Mercedes SUV that was paid for by a previous lawsuit. The mother who didn’t have a scratch on her or her child. Getting rid of me was the best way the HMO could protect themselves.”
“I see.”
Ora’s words ran through her mind again and hit her with all the force of conviction. “You know, that’s actually not the truth, either. The truth is, I lied because I didn’t have enough faith.”
“Faith?”
“I didn’t trust God to handle the situation if I told the truth. I suppose I tried to help Him a little, in the form of a lie.” She looked Gary Powell in the face. “No surprise that didn’t work out, huh?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “If you’ve given it that kind of thought, I don’t expect you’ll be doing it again in the near future.”
“I don’t know that I’ll have the chance.”
“You understand that this is not the same story I’m hearing from your two co-workers.”
“Yes, sir, I know. And I don’t expect that my telling you all this will change anything for the better for me. But, if the two of them are going to continue to work together, then someone needs to know what is going on so that someone else doesn’t get hurt.”
“You realize until this last error, your initials were on all the prescriptions that were misfilled.”
“Yes, I believe that Clarissa went in and changed computer records. I always hand-initial everything I touch—a habit I picked up in the Sharitz days. You could go look through the old files from the Nashville Clinic and confirm that, and I was the only pharmacist who was working there. One of the mistakes—Ms. Feldhouse’s—was made on a day that I wasn’t even at work.”
Gary Powell opened a folder on his desk and removed a sheet of paper—a copy of the prescription. “So, you’re telling me that on March 29 you weren’t even at the pharmacy?”
“Yes, sir, that’s what I’m telling you.” Paige pulled her shoulders upright and concentrated on keeping her chin lifted. She knew how this sounded, what Gary Powell must think, but it was the truth.
“Can you prove where you were?”
“No.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ll take what you’ve said under consideration. Thanks for coming in.”
“You’re welcome.” Paige walked down the hallway, realizing that she’d accomplished absolutely nothing. Regardless, she’d finally done what she should have done all along.
Houston was only a day’s drive away, but on the phone that night it might as well have been a million miles. Her father had never sounded more scared, more alone.
“How’s Mom?”
“Still pretty sick. The doctors say her lungs are staying clear, but her fever’s been steady. She’s on the knife’s edge, Paige.” There was a rustling on the other line. “She’s awake now and wants to say hello.”
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Oh, Mom. How are you feeling?”
“I think—” there was a slight wheezing sound as she took a breath—“I’m getting better.”
She didn’t sound better, but if she could pretend, so could Paige. “Good. You stay strong and keep fighting this thing.”
Paige’s father came back on the line. “The doctor said that this CMV might or might not materialize, ’cause the blood work’s kind of iffy. All we can do is wait it out.” He paused for a moment. “There’s nothing I hate worse than waiting, but in this case, I guess it beats the alternative. How are things with you?”
Dusty began a low-throated growl at the front window. Paige walked over to look out, and what she saw made her gasp. “I think I need to get off the phone.”
“What’s wrong?”
“A car just pulled up, and I’m pretty sure it’s Dawn’s.”
Dawn pulled over to the curb and looked at the address she’d written on the piece of paper. This must be the place. From first glance, it even looked like the kind of home where she’d expect Paige to live. A nice brick one-story on a couple of neatly trimmed acres, with nothing but trees for neighbors in the back. It all looked so nurturing, so welcoming.
Well, she wouldn’t be welcomed, she knew that. Desperation may have caused her to drive here, but common sense wouldn’t let her get out of the car. No way. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
A knock on the passenger side window jarred her. She turned to see Paige standing by the door, leaning forward, looking at her. “Dawn?”
Dawn started the car without rolling down the window. This was a mistake, and it was time to get out of here.
Before she had a chance to pull away from the curb, Paige jerked open the car door and jumped into the passenger seat. “What happened?”
Dawn didn’t have to wonder why Paige asked the question. She touched her puffy lower lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. This is not your problem. If you’ll get out, I’ll be on my way.”
“Not until you tell me what happened.”
“Why would you even care?”
“I care because you’re obviously hurt. You’re also obviously pretty desperate if you’re showing up here. Now, what happened, and how can I help?”
“Jack happened, and there’s nothing you can do.” Dawn turned to look at Paige then. “Does it make you feel better to know that the person who could have helped you but didn’t is getting what’s coming to her?”
“Dawn,
this
”—Paige touched a sore spot on Dawn’s cheek— “was not ‘coming to you.’ Regardless of what you did or didn’t say, no one deserves this. Now, pull your car into my driveway, and let’s go inside and talk.”
“Just get out, okay? I made a mistake in coming here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Dawn whipped around to her then. “All right. You want it, you’ll get it. You see these bruises? Jack put them there. You want to know why? He found the money I’ve been hiding so that I can get away from him. It was a lot of money. Three thousand dollars to be exact. You want to know where I got it? You’re going to really love this part of the story, because I got it from Clarissa. She gave it to me to keep quiet about what’s really been going on in the pharmacy.”
Paige covered her mouth with her hand. “You what?”
“You heard me. Now you found out what you wanted to know. Get out.”
“But . . . Jack hurt you. You can’t go back there.”
Her anger spent, Dawn felt herself deflate. It was all she could do to keep her head up. “You’re right. Even if I wanted to. His ex-wife moved in today.”
“Wow.” Paige leaned forward as if her stomach suddenly hurt. She rubbed her temples with the thumb and middle finger of her left hand. “I guess I’m not the only one with trouble around here.”
“You can say that again.”
Paige reached over, pulled on the handle, and turned to climb from the car. She stood halfway, then dropped back into her seat, her head shaking slowly from side to side. “You know, this is my parents’ house. They’re out of town for a couple more months, and I’m staying here all alone. You’re welcome to the guest room.”
Dawn looked at her, waiting for the laughter. “Yeah, right. I’ll just bet.”
“No, I mean it.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I’m standing my ground and waiting for daybreak.”
“Huh?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just say I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do. And it doesn’t seem to me like you have a lot of other choices.”
She was right about that. “You’re just doing this because you want me to back up your story to the inspector guy.”
Paige shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s impossible for me to ever get a job in pharmacy again, so that part doesn’t matter, and I told him everything I know, so my hands are clean. Whether or not anybody ever believes me is not my problem.”
“You can’t get another job, really? What will you do?”
Paige sighed. “I don’t know. Once my parents get back, I’m going to try looking for a job in another part of the state, maybe. For now, I start work as a cashier at Long’s Hardware next week— I’ve got to do something to pay some bills.”
“Maybe I could just stay for the night. Until I find another place.”
“You’re welcome for as long as you need to stay. Do you need me to go with you to get your stuff?”
“Nah, what little I got is in this car.”
285
“Well, pull this car into the driveway and come on in. I’ll show you to your room.”
Clarissa straightened her lab coat, smiled at the volunteer manning the desk, and pushed through the double doors to the CCU. She’d done part of her post-graduate internship in this hospital; she knew her way around. As long as she looked like she knew what she was doing, no one was likely to stop her. Of course, the ID badge helped, too. She just hoped that no one looked close enough to notice it was expired.
She rounded the corner into Ora’s room, prepared to face her mistakes head on. Her frustrations with Paige and her grandfather and
everything
had turned her into a person she didn’t even want to look at in the mirror. But that had to change. She had to be an adult and accept what had happened. Until she saw the woman in the bed. Then it was all she could do to hold her ground.
Breathe, breathe, stay calm, and breathe.
Clarissa took a step closer and looked hard, trying to find something about the woman that was familiar. Her skin was so pale it almost had a bluish cast, her body still. There was a little mole on the left side of her chin that offered the only hint of flesh color at all.
In this moment, the situation reached full reality in Clarissa’s mind. A woman’s life was at stake—and probably ruined even if she did live, because of something Clarissa had done. She dropped into the seat beside the bed and gasped for air. She had done this to someone. Another real, live, breathing person. Not just an insurance number or prescription record.
“Can I help you?” A heavyset brunette nurse stood at the doorway to the cubicle.
Clarissa looked at her. “I . . . no . . .” She stood and walked toward the double doors of the unit. “Nobody can.”
Paige watched Dawn pull out of the driveway on her way to work, then walked outside and sat at her mother’s favorite bench on the edge of the property. “Forgive me. I know I haven’t been trusting You. I mean, I’m not going to sit here and lie to You. You know everything anyway, but it doesn’t seem like You’ve come through for me much lately. Why should I expect this time to be any different?”
A squirrel ran across the grass, picked up a piece of a twig, and sat up, holding it in his paws. He leaned forward and nibbled a little, then dropped the twig and moved on. Paige understood how he felt. How are you supposed to know what to ignore and what to pick up?
“Okay, I thought I was praying in faith all along, but obviously I need some help. Ora was right, I wouldn’t have done something that was obviously wrong to ‘help You out’ if I’d really had faith in the first place. I guess this is one of those times that I need You to ‘help my unbelief,’ because let’s just be honest, I don’t have any belief left.” The truth of the words sickened her, but she was done playing games—especially with God.
