“If you think I’ll stand by and watch you strut and humiliate my family, you’re sadly mistaken, young hussie!”
“Young hussie?” Justine said. “Have you any idea what your—”
“I have a reputation to protect! I have innocent children who don’t deserve the kind of cheap, nasty gossip your behavior is bound to bring down on them, and I could be forced to dramatic measures if you don’t agree to just go away quietly and—”
“Go away?!”
June’s mouth hung open; she was mesmerized by this display. Clarice’s fists were clenched at her sides and her whole head was red. Her cheeks flamed and her scalp burned through her thinning blond hair. Elmer whispered in June’s ear, “So it’s true then. The pastor and Justine.”
“Was true,” she whispered back.
Tom Toopeek was not mesmerized. He was activated. “All right, Clarice, that’s enough. Let’s step outside and talk about this.”
She snatched her arm away angrily when he would have led her. “There’s nothing to talk about—except maybe the way this tart has tried to ruin my husband’s career through lies and blackmail! Arrest her!!”
“Blackmail?” Justine asked dumbly.
“We should talk about your driving first,” Tom said patiently.
“Blackmail?” Justine repeated.
“Slut!” Clarice screamed. “Whore! Tramp! Bawd! Harlot!”
“Bawd?” Justine asked in confusion. “Blackmail?”
“All right!” Tom shouted. He grabbed Clarice’s upper arm more forcefully and began to pull her away from Justine’s counter. But the woman started sobbing, covering her face with both hands and wilting before their eyes.
June was astonished. While Jonathan Wickham had managed to piss off a bunch of town women, he definitely had a power over others. That Justine and Clarice could be so swayed by the pastor was shocking. June wondered just how he managed it, and then had a fleeting regret that he’d never been a patient of hers or she might know.
From the back room, Sam emerged. Calmly. He held a cup of steaming coffee in his hand and had a look of anger in his steely blue eyes. Justine didn’t turn to look at him, but smiled as he came up behind her. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, and as he did so, Justine seemed to grow taller and straighter. Her facial features reflected confidence for maybe the first time in June’s acquaintance with her.
As for Sam, he was stunning. A handsome and powerfully strong man with a tan face, thick, snowy white hair, broad shoulders, flat stomach and remarkable height of at least six foot two, he made Jonathan Wickham look like a wimp by comparison.
Everyone in the room stood fixed and silent as Clarice spent herself on sobs. At long last she looked up, only to find Sam beside Justine. “You!” she said with viciousness. “I might have known you would consort with this whore! I told Jonathan it probably isn’t even his! I told him he was being used and—”
June didn’t even see Sam wind up, but his fist came down on Justine’s counter with such force that the glass covering the top cracked into a million veiny lines. Clarice jumped and gasped, and Sam leaned over the counter and squinted his shining eyes. “That’s it!” he shouted. “Don’t let me ever hear another foul word come out of your mouth! You and your husband treat this young woman with respect, you hear me? Or you’ll answer to me!”
Clarice sniffed back indignant tears. “You take her part then?”
“Oh yes,” Sam said. “I’ll be taking her part from here on. So watch out.”
By the time June got to the clinic, the morning was wearing on. She made her apologies as she flew down the hall. “Sorry,” she said. “Sorry to be late. Sorry.”
“Slow down,” Elmer said.
“You’re okay,” John said. “Not a bad morning. Yet, that is.”
“I can move a couple of things around and you can take some of the load off these men…or you can go back home and rest another day,” Charlotte said.
“Thanks, Charlotte, but you’re stuck with me.” June hung her sweater on a peg inside the back door. She didn’t hear a word from Jessica, who was usually bright and chipper. “Jessie?” she asked.
The girl turned slowly from her filing. “Hmm?”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” And she turned back.
Charlotte pushed June down the hall toward her office. “She’s been like this the last two days. Moody. Cranky.”
John sidled up beside them. “Y’know, she’s been like this since she was out at our house. We asked her to baby-sit so we could go grab a quiet dinner. Alone, you know. But just as she pulled up, I had to run out to Hank Bryant’s place to stitch up a laceration. He cut himself on baling wire. Took twenty-six stitches.”
“And she was fine then?”
“She was absolutely fine. Excited. Happy.”
“About baby-sitting?”
“Oh no, I took her with me out to Hank’s.”
“You did?”
“Well, she didn’t have anything else to do. And she wanted to go. Then when we finished, it was too late to go out to dinner, so the three of us shared a frozen pizza. But honestly, she was fine.”
“She’s depressed,” Charlotte snorted. “I bet her father’s finally come down on her about the way she looks.”
“Oh, I doubt that,” John said. “She said she and her father have a great understanding.”
June peered at him suspiciously. “You and Jessie are getting pretty close, are you?”
“Certainly,” he said. “She’s my best girl.” And with that, he sauntered away. And June gulped.
Later in the day, June stopped by Jessica’s desk in the front of the clinic, when no one was around to hear. “Jessie, are you feeling any better?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, June. I know I’m moody. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“You can talk to me about anything, you know. Absolutely anything.”
“I know. And I’m going to do that. Just give me a couple of days to think this through. Then I’d like to talk about it.”
“Sure thing, pet. I’m here when you’re ready. Day or night.”
Jessica smiled. “I appreciate that.”
Twenty
The phone rang and June pulled the towel tighter around her, wondering why no one waited until she was dressed anymore. “Hello?”
“What’s this I hear about Sam and Justine?” Birdie demanded.
“Well, what did you hear?”
“I heard that Sam fancies himself in love with Justine, who is pregnant with Preacher Jon-Boy’s baby.”
“Good Lord!”
“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. How much of that could possibly be doctor-patient confidentiality?”
“I did happen to be in the Flower Shoppe at the same time Sam mentioned he intended to stick by Justine from now on, on the off chance anyone wanted to give her any trouble. Other than that, I can’t comment.”
“Is it true Clarice Wickham called her a lot of dirty names?” Birdie lowered her voice when she asked this.
June gave a huff of irresponsible laughter. “You should have heard her mouth,” she whispered back. “It was unbelievable.”
Birdie cackled. “Well, it’s a shame. That poor Justine suffered a lot of naiveté by losing a mother at a vulnerable age. Was Standard going to teach the girl about men?”
“I agree it’s a shame…but, Birdie, I have to run. I’m in an awful hurry.”
“I didn’t really call you about that. I just got very excited. We haven’t had a good scandal around here since Morton Claypool went missing.”
“Then why did you call? Are you feeling all right?”
“Oh fine, really. But there’s someone I need for you to talk to. I made a new friend at the hospital, someone with special needs. Will you go there with me? This morning? Please?”
“Birdie, I can’t,” June fairly wailed. “Oh God, I want to. You know I’d do anything for you! But I have to try to rent a vehicle this morning. I’m going
to push my earliest patients off on Charlotte and John and see if I can find something in Rockport or Garberville. Can’t Dad help you out?”
“Oh no, it has to be you. You have special talents, you know. Plus this is a job for a younger doctor.”
“Birdie, let me do it another time, maybe later in the—”
“Good grief, don’t sound so desperate! Come with me to visit my new friend, who happens to be in Valley Hospital in Rockport, and afterward I’ll take you to dealers to shop for a truck. If you find one, you can drive it back to the valley. After all, I was just forced to rent a car. I can help you get the best deal.”
“Oh Birdie…”
“June, this is important,” she said in that firm, implacable tone. “I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t.”
And I wouldn’t say I was busy if I wasn’t, June thought. But she didn’t say anything. She relented, which in the end she always did, but she was unnerved. Why was it that whenever she said she was too busy, too pressed for time, her friends felt they could still press her to do what they wanted? Did no one consider that she would have to stay up a bit later, work a bit more over the weekend, or maybe have even less time to grab a meal?
She was still bristling when Birdie pulled up in her rented red Taurus. June decided to bring Sadie Five along, at least subconsciously hoping to annoy Birdie. “Excellent idea!” Birdie exclaimed. “My friend will love the dog. Love her!”
“I hope you realize I don’t have much time to spend with your friend. What’s the matter with her anyway?”
“I guess you’d call it an orthopedic problem, but that’s just the beginning. I’m going to clam up about it and let you see for yourself. And hear for yourself.”
“Well, then, how’s Judge?” June asked.
“He’s a nutcase. He is not the same since the accident and he annoys me more than ever!” Judge was still at home, recovering.
“Is he wearing his collar?”
“Only when someone is looking. The rest of the time he takes it off and complains. I don’t think there’s any point in keeping him home any longer. We really must send him back to the bench soon. I was not made to share such a small space with such a grumpy old man.”
“He’ll stop grumping soon,” June laughed.
“I don’t know why he would. He’s been grumpy since he was seventeen,” Birdie said. “Say, Myrna’s got a new murder mystery out right about now. There’s an autograph signing down in Westport on Saturday. Will you be going?”
“She never mentioned it!” June said, surprised.
“Two o’clock at the Bookworm. I’m going down if you want a ride.”
“I wonder why she never mentioned it?”
“She may have forgotten. She’s getting a little that way, don’t you think?”
“What way?” June demanded.
“June, darling, there’s something you’re going to have to get used to. There’s a lot of us just shy of going over—me and Judge, Myrna, Doc, Sam, Lincoln and Philana….”
“Just shy of going over?” June repeated.
“Well, think about it,” Birdie said. “It would no longer be premature for any of us. And a little late for some.”
“All right, that’s enough. I’m not going to talk about your impending death all the way to Rockport. That would definitely be asking too much.”
Birdie had only been in the hospital for two nights, and the first was spent semiconscious with a terrible headache. But she was still able, as only Birdie could, to get around the place and stick her nose in a lot of business.
Birdie had to stay in the lobby with Sadie because her friend was on the third floor—no pets allowed. She told June to go to room 328. June expected to find a woman in her seventies, a woman much like Birdie. This indicated she didn’t know Birdie as well as she thought she did, because the person Birdie directed her to was a sixteen-year-old boy. An amputee. He was sitting up in his bed and he wore knit running shorts, a T-shirt, his stump elevated and wrapped in white gauze. There was a trapeze over the bed so he could move himself around, and when she entered the room he appeared to be doing pull-ups on it. His young arms were muscled and tan.
“Clinton!” June said in instant recognition. “My gosh, you’re looking an awful lot better! The last time I saw you—”
“I was almost dead,” he said. “But I lost the foot.”
“Yes. I was so sorry to hear that.”
“I guess I’ll be careful where I put the one I got left.”
“Have you tried any prosthetic limbs yet?” June asked.
“Not yet, but I been up on crutches. I guess Miz Forest passed on that I wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“Uh-huh. Miz Forrest said she knew you. You was friends.”
June sat on the edge of Clinton’s bed. “Well, yes. We’ve been friends forever, but she didn’t tell me you asked to see me. She just brought me over, that’s all. I was in a wreck a little after Bird—after Mrs. Forrest and Judge. See?” she said, pointing to her stitches. “Stripes. Now I have to go find a vehicle. What can I do for you?”
“We gotta do something about my folks, Doc. You gotta help me.”
“What’s the matter with your folks?”
“You have to ask?”
“Well, I mean… Why don’t you explain what you want. Specifically.”
“I don’t know what I want. All’s I know is I’m sixteen years now, Wanda’s fourteen, and we ain’t never been to school. We hardly ever get off that mountain, and if it wasn’t for my mama’s people on the other side of Shell Mountain over Paskenta way, down by Potter Valley, we’d hardly ever see anyone. Doc, you know my dad’s sick, don’t you?”
“Clinton, why don’t you tell me what you know about your dad’s sickness.”
“I just know what I gathered from Mama talkin’ to Granny an’ her brothers.”
“That’s good enough,” June said. “In fact, that’s a good place to start. Your parents visit with your grandmother and uncles?”
“Yes, ma’am. She, Mama, has Granny and six brothers. She was the only girl and took the back end of a hammer in the face when she was about six years old. The claw end. My granny hid her because of her face.” He shrugged. “Then my daddy was livin’ alone in the forest, more or less hiding after he’d been to the war he calls ‘In Country,’ and he met my uncles and Mama. He took her off my granny’s farm and brought her up to Shell Mountain where she had us—me and my sister.”
“And you’ve always lived there?”
“Yes’m. Where Daddy needs the light to be dim and the air cool and not so many people about. Mama wouldn’t mind being around people at all. In fact, she calls herself sociable, but she’s afraid people would be put off by her scars. I expect she’s right. That’s their problems. Daddy gets het up somethin’ terrible if there’s a lot of people around and Mama worries that she’ll put off people with her scars. That’s why we’re in the woods and ain’t never seen a television set ‘cept at my granny’s house.”
“I see your problem, Clinton,” June said. “The good news is there’s medication that can help your father, allow him to be more comfortable around people and so on. But the bad news is he’s absolutely against the idea. I think he had some bad experience with drugs meant to help him.”
“Yes’m, I heard him say so.”
“Do you think your mother might help to convince him? That medicine has improved a lot in recent years?”
“I ain’t never seen Mama go against him. Never.”
“Maybe you can convince her, Clinton.”
He gave a short laugh. “Doc, have you seen my daddy? He’s a mountain unto himself.”
She smiled. “He is that, Clinton. And you love him just the same.”
He dropped his chin, looking down.
“I’m going to send Charlie McNeil to talk to you, Clinton. He’s with the VA hospital. He’s the man who went to see your parents to tell them how your surgery came out. I
think between the two of you, you might come up with an idea or two that can help your parents.”
“Do you think it possible, Doc?”
“There’s always hope, Clinton. Tell me, if you could have any wish regarding your parents, what would it be?”
He only had to think a moment. “I’d just like to get them off that mountain. Before they get any worse.”
When June got to the clinic, it was nearly lunchtime and the waiting room was still full; John and Charlotte had not been able to keep ahead of the crowd. She found her father seeing a leisurely few patients an hour, also. Doc was from the old school and couldn’t be rushed.
“Things moving a little slow, Jessie?” she asked.
“Not really, it’s more like an epidemic. We had twice as many people as we had appointments. And this is for you,” she said, handing her a message slip. “The tech says they can’t proceed without talking to you.”
The message slip informed her that Justine Roberts was waiting for a pelvic sonogram at Valley Hospital and the technician questioned the order, which was written by Dr. Stone. “Can I have the chart please?” June asked.
“On your desk,” Jessica said as she simultaneously dived for the phone. “Grace Valley Clinic,” she said.
June went to her office and opened the chart. Justine had come in first thing in the morning, complaining of a little cramping and “heaviness” in her lower abdomen. John had used a urine test for pregnancy, and while it was positive, he drew blood to rule it out. “Normal fundus,” he had scrawled. The uterus hadn’t grown at all? An OB of John’s experience would be able to detect even the slightest enlargement due to pregnancy. But he’d also recorded a normal cervix. Then why the sonogram?
June called the front desk. “Jessie, will you ask Dr. Stone to give me a minute when he’s between patients, please?”
“Sure thing,” she said.
It was only a few moments before John gave the door a couple of taps and stuck his head in. She held up the chart, Justine’s name pointing toward him, and lifted her eyebrows in question. “I’m surprised by this,” she said.