“I really have to do something. I just wish I knew what.”
“I think you should talk to Cantor,” David said. “I’ve given it some thought. At least Cantor is a physician, not just a health-care bureaucrat.”
“His comment about ‘the girls,’ as he called them, in his medical school class was not inspiring,” Angela said.
They pulled into their driveway. Angela came to a stop as close as possible to the door to the mud room. They both prepared to run for shelter.
“When is this rain going to stop?” David complained. “It’s been raining for three days straight.”
Once they were inside, David decided to make a fire to cheer up the house while Angela reheated the food she’d made earlier for herself and Nikki. Descending into the basement, David noticed that moisture was seeping through the grout between the granite foundation blocks. Along with the moisture was the damp, musty odor he’d occasionally smelled before. As he collected the wood, he comforted himself with the thought of the earthen floor. If a significant amount of water were to come into the basement, it would just soak in and eventually disappear.
After eating, David joined Nikki in front of the TV. Whenever she was ill they were lenient about how much time she was allowed to watch. David feigned interest in the show in progress, while he built up the courage to tell Nikki about Marjorie. Finally, during a commercial break, David put his arm around his daughter.
“I have to tell you something,” he said gently.
“What?” Nikki asked. She was contentedly petting Rusty who was curled up on the couch next to her.
“Your teacher, Marjorie Kleber, died today,” David said gently.
Nikki didn’t say anything for a few moments. She looked down at Rusty, pretending to be concerned about a knot behind his ear.
“It makes me very sad,” David continued, “especially since I was her doctor. I’m sure it upsets you, too.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Nikki said quickly with a shake of her head. She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. Then she looked at the television as if she were interested in the commercial.
“It’s okay to be sad,” David said. He started to talk about missing people you cared about when Nikki suddenly threw herself at him, enveloping him in a flood of tears. She hugged him tighter than he could ever remember her having hugged him.
David patted her on the back and continued to reassure her.
Angela appeared at the doorway. Seeing David holding their sobbing child, she came over. Gently pushing Rusty aside, she sat down and put her arms around both David and Nikki. Together the three held onto each other, rocking gently as the rain beat against the windows.
13
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 20
Despite Nikki’s sustained protests, David and Angela insisted that she stay home from school another day. Considering the weather and the fact that she was still on antibiotics there was no reason to take a chance.
Although Nikki was not as cooperative as usual, they carried out her morning respiratory therapy with great diligence. Both David and Angela listened to her chest afterward and both were satisfied.
Alice Doherty arrived exactly at the time she promised. David and Angela were thankful to have someone so reliable and so conveniently available.
As Angela and David climbed into their blue Volvo, David complained that he’d not been able to ride his bike all week. It wasn’t raining as hard as it had been, but the clouds were low and ponderous, and a heavy mist rose out of the saturated earth.
They got to the hospital at seven-thirty. While Angela headed off for the lab, David went up to the patient floor. When he entered John Tarlow’s room he was surprised to find drop cloths, stepladders, and an empty bed. Continuing on to the nurses’ station he inquired after his patient.
“Mr. Tarlow has been moved to 206,” Janet Colburn said.
“How come?” David asked.
“They wanted to paint the room,” Janet said. “Maintenance came up and informed us. We let admitting know, and they told us to transfer the patient to 206.”
“I think that’s inconsiderate,” David complained.