Wake the Dawn (26 page)

Ben gripped her arm. “You wouldn’t talk to me when I brought you home, but you did say enough that I could dig out the old incident reports. The cops file things forever, you know.”

You wouldn’t dare. You couldn’t!
But no use saying that aloud. Of course he could.

Ben asked, “What color was the car you hit, Esther?”

She wasn’t expecting that question. “Black. Like the road.”

“What color car was Clara Holmgren driving?”

“I don’t know. Black, I…wait.” The woman had said…But how…? “A white one. That she thought ought to show up in the headlights.”

“There were two hit and runs, Esther, within twenty-four hours of each other. No one ever found out who hit Clara Holmgren. Your father and brother both mentioned that the paint scuffs on your car were black. The car you rear-ended was parked on the asphalt and its owner was half a mile beyond, headed for a gas station with a gas can; he had run out of gas, and he was also inebriated. No one ever found out who hit his car, either, but I don’t think anyone tried hard. Pretty darn stupid, parking out on the roadway.”

“You mean I…?” Jefferson, Clare, Ben, these men, that intervention or whatever: It was all coming at her way too fast.

And now Dr. Ho was speaking, his voice mist-like at the edge of her awareness. “As a first step, I want to put you on a serotonin reuptake inhibitor that I’ve found quite useful for my patients. I believe you will be amazed a month from now how much better the world looks. This seems to work better than some others.”

“I don’t need another antidepressant.”

“Give it a couple months; if there’s no change, you can go back off it. Now I want you to tell me—if you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”

“Mom wants me to go into obstetrics in an urban set—”

“Stop. Pretend for a moment that your mother doesn’t exist; she’s not a factor. Just pretend. You. What would
you
most like to do?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again. What did she want? What did Esther want? She had never really considered that. But
I don’t know
seemed pretty lame.

She thought about the people whose lives she could not save. Chief. Denise Abrams. And the people for whom she made a difference, sometimes even a life-and-death difference. And the babies. Wriggly little Nathan fresh from his mother’s womb. Sweet Dawn, abandoned, alone, desperately fighting a losing battle to stay alive. And this morning, there they were right in front of her, both of them, unable to speak but telling her volumes anyway.

She drew a deep breath. “I think; I think, if it were just me, I’d like obstetrics anyway. Maybe after I get my loans paid off, obstetrics in a small-town setting. An area like this needs someone who enjoys the work. Or a general practitioner. That’s good, too.”

She happened to look up at Dr. Ho, the first real eye contact she’d made with the two physicians since all this went down. With these three; Ben sat silently beside her, carefully studying her. Not staring. Quietly, pleasantly studying.

Dr. Ho had tears in his eyes. They hadn’t bubbled up over the lids yet, but they were there. He wasn’t acting sorrowful or anything. He just…he just had tears. He smiled, glowed. “Esther, you do not know how happy you just made me.”

This was surreal. This wasn’t really happening.

Dr. Livingston explained, “Warren and I have had some long discussions about you. There’s a critical shortage of doctors willing to work in rural areas, and yet they’re desperately needed. The fact that you want to borders on the miraculous. We were hoping you would want to, based on your success as a practitioner here in Pineville, but we didn’t know. We need you, Esther.”

Dr. Ho picked it up. “So we have devised a plan, subject to your approval, of course. You recall we have recently returned from a symposium on just this question—delivering medical service to rural communities. There are a number of grants coming available, and George and I are ready to make up the difference, if your education requires more money than the grants will provide. You will not have to go into debt.”

“But…!”

He raised a hand. “Please hear me out. The first step, of course, is to stabilize you emotionally. That can be done. Work on this post-traumatic stress problem. Meanwhile, let’s get you started toward your degree. You can serve part of your residency here, and I can use a resident in Grand Forks, so your future is assured following the course work. Based on your grades when you earned your certification as a physician’s assistant, there should be no problem there, either. When the new facility is opened here in Pineville, you should be about ready to step in.”

“
Why?
Why are you two doing this?”

Dr. Livingston said, “Our interest is strictly self-serving. We desperately need you, we need anyone in a rural setting.”

Dr. Ho said, “Even more important, you will be a splendid doctor. You have proven yourself. You are worth every effort to save.”

Dr. Livingston stood up. “We of course will remain in contact, and I will give you the name of a reliable counselor who can work with you. We have several excellent counselors on the base, well practiced with stress disorders. Also, you’re going to have to sit down with my wife and work out the legal ramifications.”

“I’ve been working with a counselor for several years.”

“That’s good to know. The ones I am referring to have probably done more work with PTSD than most others. I think they can help you.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
The legal ramifications. We need you.
It all swirled around inside her. She remembered standing and shaking hands with them as they left. She remembered Ben rising and shaking with them also. She flopped back into her chair, still terribly aswirl. Gobsmacked, Granny Alma would say. Nothing less than gobsmacked.

She looked at Ben, sitting quietly beside her. She wagged her head. “This is all too—weird. Are you responsible for this?”

“I helped some, since I know the people and the doctors don’t. Helped set it up. And Barbara, she helped. The doctors orchestrated it, worked out the logistics.”

She sighed a great, shuddering sigh. “Ben? What do you think I should do?”

“Marry me.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

M
arry me.
Five hours later Esther still floated in a sort of shocked daze.

He’d never even said he loved her. He had never once kissed her. Weren’t marriage prospects supposed to court?

Did she love him? She cared, that was for sure, but love him as in to marry him?

“You have a patient in room two.” Barbara still had traces of a giggle in her voice.

“Would you knock it off?” Esther felt her smile lines crinkle again.

“All I said was…” There it was again.

“I know what you said. I’m on my way.” Esther picked up the chart.
Marry me.

She read the name again and glanced down the chart. Amy Klapton, one of her pregnant mommas. She tapped on the door and went in. “Good afternoon, Amy. How can I help you today?”

A pregnant woman with a little boy at her side waited in the chair.

“Joey has something caught up in his nose. He can’t blow it out.”

“I see. He’s not the first little boy to come down with this syndrome. Come on, Joey, let’s get you on the table so I can see better.” She lifted him up so he sat with his feet dangling over the edge. “Now, what did you put in your nose?”

“A bean.”

“I see. I’m going to have to look up your nose, so you lie back here and hang on to your mommy’s hand. I know you are going to be a brave little boy, aren’t you?” She nodded while she asked the question so he nodded back. She felt the bridge of his nose; just below that, in the right nostril, was something hard. “You sure did.” Choosing the most delicate of her limited choice of forceps, she shone a light up to see a white dried bean waiting. “This will feel funny, but you lie real quiet and we’ll be done in an instant. You only put one bean in, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He hesitated. “The second one didn’t fit.”

She worked the forceps up there, managed to engage the bean, and pulled it out. “You were really brave all right. But I don’t want you to put anything in your nose ever again, hear? Your nose doesn’t like that. It’s uncomfortable, and besides, it wastes beans.”

He nodded. “Sorry.”

Amy was obviously suppressing a snigger. “Me, too. Come on, Joey, let’s go home.”

“Ice cream?”

“No chance. Not when you did this. No treats.” His mother rose and waited for him to scramble down. “See you for my appointment next week.” Out they went.

Esther jotted down her notes and handed the file back to Barbara. “That’s it for today?”

“It is. And what a note to end on. Beans up the nose. How come boys do that more than girls?”

“Girls are smarter.”

“Esther, get out of here. Go, get ready for your big date.”

Esther started to leave and turned. “How did you know you loved Ed?”

“No fireworks, more a slow burn. But I knew I wanted to be with that man and no other for the rest of my life. The fireworks came later.”

“Hmm.” Not much help. The weather had been perfect for fall, and it still was. She should have walked to work. The western sky was already catching the flames of sunset. The bundle of clouds gleamed gold around the upper edges, and where they parted, oranges flowed into vermillion, which faded into pinks. She caught the reflections in western-facing windows of the houses on her street. With so many of the old elm trees broken in the storm, the horizon was more obvious.

Ben had said he would pick her up at six thirty, and he’d called later to make sure she’d understood. He wasn’t taking any chances. On the one hand, a tiny thrill rippled up her back. On the other, she dreaded telling him all that had happened, describing that night. But it wasn’t Jefferson. A burden the size of Fort Knox had been lifted from her.

In the shower and out so she didn’t have time to ponder the events of the morning. All those people, there just for her. That was the strangest intervention she’d ever heard of. And the message about her mother. Someone else had told her that once, but she’d blown it off. This came from Gramma Alma, and she had never lied to Esther or even stretched the truth. Gramma Alma loved unconditionally, more than anyone Esther had ever known. But she also had the gift of insight, a rare combination.

Instead of her usual jeans or khaki pants, Esther pulled out a black wool skirt and cowl-neck sweater. Then dug into her collection of good jewelry. A three-strand necklace of turquoise and silver, bangly bracelets, and a silver loop belt that hung just below her waist. Earrings finished it off. After fashioning her hair in a French twist, she studied herself in the mirror. She’d pass. Good thing Ben was tall, she thought as she slid her feet into black pumps with two-inch heels. No one would ever convince her that four-inch-and-up heels looked attractive, let alone sensible. She finished with eyeliner and mascara that made her blue eyes even more blue.

When she opened the door Ben stopped, his eyes widened, and he whistled softly. “Who are you and what did you do with Esther?”

She laughed and motioned him in. “I clean up fairly well, I take it.”

He nodded. Maybe he figured sometimes silence was the wiser option.

He handed her a long, thin box. A single velvety red rose. He shrugged. “A dozen seemed kinda much.”

“A dozen roses is too much. This is perfect. Thank you!”

“I hope you don’t mind driving to Grand Forks. I made reservations at the Rogue on the River.”

So, do we talk on the way down or way back?
“Sounds delightful.” She brought her leather coat from the closet and handed it to him. After helping her into it, he cupped his hands around her shoulders and turned her to look in the oval mirror above the half table in the entry.

“You look stunning.”

Shivers radiated from under his hands and shot down her arms, ran circles around her heart, and tickled her lungs, making her catch her breath. She felt an urge to turn, put her arms around his neck, and see if his lips tasted as good as he looked.

“What?” His voice had dropped to a heart-pumping tone.

“I—ah…” Esther did exactly what she dreamed, turning in his arms and raising her lips to meet his.
I can’t believe I am doing this. Nice girls…oh, hush.
As if they’d done this before, they deepened the kiss. She’d been kissed a few times in the past, but this was like no other. She felt her heart opening like the soft petals on a rose that yearned for the sunshine. Was this what love felt like? If so, she had a full-blown case of it and Ben seemed to be the only person in the world.

“Shall we go?” he whispered against her lips.

“Must we?”

“We must.” He drew her arm through his and turned the lock on the door as they went out.

On the drive to Grand Forks, Esther dithered. She couldn’t believe it. She was not a ditherer, but back and forth went her mind, totally out of her control.
Tell him now. No, tell him later. It would destroy this magical evening.
Wait. Did he really say “marry me” as an answer to her dilemma? That was no answer, that would only lead to more problems. But problems were far easier when halved with someone who loves you, they say. Just like joys are doubled with the same.

“So Bo is home caring for Dawn?”

“Yes, he makes sure Beth is aware when Dawn even squeaks her first indication of a need.” He turned to her with a smile. “Biggest mistake I’ve made is tell him to guard her.”

They talked about some of her patients, and touched lightly on the progress of the bond sales and the coming clinic. When the young man in front of the restaurant tapped on his window, Esther rolled her eyes. Valet parking even? Another opened the door on her side. Ben tucked her arm through his and they strolled into the candlelit interior.

They were seated at the white-clothed table, their water glasses filled, and leather-bound menus propped in front of them. Music floated from the harpist in the corner with the silver and china clinking counterpoint. Fresh lavender in each table’s bud vase added a subtle fragrance to the delicious odors emanating from the kitchen. Magical? More than magic.

Esther sighed and felt the tension drain away to be replaced by a quiet sensation of peace. Reading the menu was like a trip to Europe with French, German, and Italian recipes. The descriptions made making choices even more difficult.

The waiter in black pants and a white dress shirt returned to their table. “I can come back,
oui
?”

Ben looked at her and she nodded. She pointed at random to something.

“A fine choice, madame.”

Ben ordered the prime rib, medium rare.

Esther eyed the bread basket with two kinds of rolls, a flat bread with sesame seeds and pencil-thin breadsticks. The butter came in small squares with a design imprinted on each. The whole picture looked too good to eat.

She enjoyed just sitting across the table from Ben. His smile warmed her midsection. “This is such a treat.”

“Good. We all need a treat once in a while.”

They shared growing-up stories as they made their way through the marvelous meal. By mutual, silent assent, they stayed with funny stories, positive stories. From picture-worthy plates to service that came before being asked, the dinner created a warm memory that she was sure would stay around forever.

Back in the car, she heaved a sigh. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“I thought so, too. I’m glad we could share that.”

Now to ruin the evening, a thing she was so good at doing. “Were you serious this morning when you said ‘marry me’?”

“As a broken leg.”

She shook her head. “No. Then the answer is no. You’re fighting alcohol, I’m fighting the past. We’re two messed-up people. We can’t; I mean, not yet; I mean…” She looked at him. “It wouldn’t work.”

He stared out the windshield, not exactly grim, but his mouth was firm. He nodded. “We’re messed up. You got that right. But I think most of the mess is behind us, both of us. My whole life, everything was gold. Good athlete, good student, good marine, good patrolman. Good whatever I wanted to be. Then Allie got ripped away from me. She was pregnant. I lost the two most important things in my life at once. We’d been trying for years, and then…” He flung both hands wide, a gesture of hopelessness. “I’m not saying this right, but I can’t really describe the emptiness. Sense of betrayal, actually. I couldn’t imagine why God would do that to me, the golden boy. I did everything right, and He…anyway, the bottle helped at first. Then it enslaved me, then I got mad. You provided the reason to get off the booze, to get out from under, first with Dawn, then with you.”

“Me?”

“I can’t help you walk if I’m still crippled. I want to help you.”

“Then you’re not ready to say you’re past it. You have to put alcohol behind you for you, not us.” She laughed. “Listen to me! I can psycho-counsel everyone except myself.”

“Me too.” He was smiling. “You see? We need each other.” He twisted in his seat to look at her squarely, eye-to-eye. “I wondered for months why you were trying so hard to keep your stress disorder secret when the whole world could see it. I was watching your face as Ho and Livingston conducted that so-called intervention. I could see you melt. Terrified, then furious, then defeated. I mean, defeated in a good way. The brick wall was broken down. We can help you now. You can help yourself. We’re both in a better position to think about marriage than we were even a month ago.”

“And Thanksgiving. That was a flashback, yes. Clear as if it were happening then. I’d never had anything quite so—so vivid. We should get started back. It’s late. I can describe it on the way home.”

He twisted back to face the wheel and hit the ignition. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know.” They rolled out to the stop sign.

“I want to. For the first time since then, I actually want to. Even my counselor has never heard it. It’s weird. I knew it happened, but I guess you could say I refused to remember. But I kept remembering parts of it anyway. And when Jefferson entered the picture I was devastated. Wiped. Interesting how your mind can block something it doesn’t want to deal with.”

It gave her the strangest feeling, almost a thrill only different, to finally describe that horrible night when she hit and ran. “Ben, I was so scared when the PTSD started. Scared me to pieces. I had no idea what was happening. I had horrible dreams and finally went to a doctor for help because I couldn’t study, couldn’t concentrate, and I had no idea why. I thought I was going crazy. And now, well you saw what’s happened. I’ve been seeing a counselor for several years but never could determine the cause of the depression. I’ve been on meds to help counteract that. But the PTSD has been getting worse instead of better.” She ordered her hands to unclench their stranglehold on each other.

“And the feelings of inadequacy you mentioned?”

“Lived with that all my life. According to my mother, I never could do anything just exactly right. Dr. Phillips helped me see that, but it is near to impossible to let those things go.” She paused, feeling drained. “At least for me.”

He wheeled the vehicle into her driveway. She really admired his driving skill, so casual, so exact and careful. And most of all, she respected him. Maybe that was even more important than love. Respect.