Sacred Trust

Doris would be so ashamed of him, trying to buy his way out of life like this. He couldn’t do it. He wanted her to be proud of him when they greeted each other again.

Would they ever see each other? What if she was right about heaven and hell?

He needed time to think about it. He had to reach that phone.

There it sat on the end table. Frankie teetered as he stepped away from the wall and reached forward. His foot caught on something, and he fell as if in slow motion.

Yes, he should have thought about this to begin with. He could crawl so much easier than he could walk. He inched across the remaining space on his elbows and knees and raised his hand toward the phone. He knocked off the receiver, and it fell next to him. He squinted at the face of the dial pad and realized he’d lost his glasses. He peered closer, fighting the heavy darkness that rushed in toward him like a hard wind. He hit the first button: nine. He found the one and poked it, then raised his finger to hit it again, but the black wind grabbed him.

The receiver slipped from his hand, and his head and shoulders slumped helplessly onto the carpet.

Chapter One

A delicate carpet of spring-green crept across the central Arkansas-Missouri border. The buds of serviceberry and dogwood had clothed their trees in pristine white just in time to welcome Dr. Lukas Bower to his new place of residence in Knolls, Missouri. He refused to call it home yet. After his most recent experiences in the job market, he couldn’t place his trust in these strangers. Nevertheless, nestled between patchwork properties of Mark Twain National Forest, this Ozark community of ten thousand promised to meet the needs of a country boy who loved the outdoors, especially hiking. When he had driven down from Kansas City to check out the area, the first order of business, before interviewing for the position of full-time emergency room physician, was to count the logging trails and off-road-vehicle paths that crisscrossed the forest. He’d even followed several of the trails in his Jeep. By the time he’d appeared for the interview with Mrs. Estelle Pinkley, the hospital administrator, he was sold on the place.

He was just finishing his usual morning repast of grease and eggs in the hospital cafeteria when the phone rang for him. He recognized the voice of an emergency room registered nurse.

“Dr. Bower, this is Beverly. We have a man by the name of Jacob Casey on his way here in his own car. He says he’s been bitten by his pet cat. He sounds pretty excited about it.”

Lukas frowned. “His cat bit him?”

“I gathered that the bite was pretty bad,” answered the RN.

“Rabies?”

“He specifically said there were no rabies. From the way he talked, the secretary thinks he’s been here before.”

“Okay, Beverly, I’ll be there shortly. Would you please pull his chart?” How much damage could a house pet do?

“But I’ve got good news,” she said. “We’ll have double nursing coverage through the noon rush.”

“As far as I know, this cat bite is the noon rush.”

Beverly chuckled. “Don’t worry, when Lauren and I do a double-coverage shift together, we always have some excitement.”

“I’ll trust your judgment.” Lukas hung up and took the one-minute walk to the emergency room.

He stepped in to find everything quiet. “Beverly, did Mr. Casey estimate how long it would take him to—”

The sudden blare of a car horn interrupted him and continued, obnoxiously loud.

“What on earth…?” Beverly walked through the open E.R. entrance and disappeared down the hallway. In less than fifteen seconds the honking stopped. Beverly came running back.

“Dr. Bower, Carol, I need your help.” She reached for one of the two gurneys sitting just inside the entrance. “There’s a man parked in the ambulance bay who looks like he’s bleeding all over the place. He’s alone.” She pushed the gurney out the door, with Lukas and Carol, the secretary, close behind.

By the time they reached the bay, the forty-odd-year-old man had opened his door and now clung to it desperately as he tried to get to his feet.

“Can’t seem to stand up,” he grated in a deep voice. His face was the color of recycled paper, and even his lips looked bloodless. “Cat bit me.”

Lukas, Beverly and Carol grabbed him and eased him onto the gurney.

Beverly gaped at him, then at the blood around his upper right thigh. “A cat did this?”

He held out a set of keys to her. “I always wanted a beautiful redhead to drive my Mustang. Take good care of her.” His eyes shut and his head dropped sideways.

“Let’s get him inside.” Lukas closed the car door. “Beverly, give those keys to Carol. She can drive this car out of the way and park it as soon as we get him transferred to a bed.”

“Oh, come on!” Beverly protested. “He told me I could take care of it.”

“He needs you worse than his car does.” Lukas held out his hand as they pushed the gurney through the automatic sliding glass doors. “The keys, please.”

Beverly curled her lip at him, but handed over the set of keys. “I’ve never driven a Mustang before.”

“Thank you.” Lukas handed them to Carol. “Would you do the honors? Beverly, let’s get an IV established on this man immediately, and we need to get his clothes off and see where the blood is coming from.”

While they worked on him, the double-coverage nurse arrived. Lauren groaned when she saw Beverly. “We’ll be swamped.” Even as she spoke, the ambulance radio blared. She pulled her long, blond hair into a ponytail and fastened it as she sat down at the desk to take the call.

In fifteen minutes, the emergency room was nearly full. The man in exam room seven had a deep laceration in his right forearm from an industrial accident. Lukas called industrial accidents his “graveyard specials,” because they happened most often during the predawn hours when the need for sleep was at its highest. Lukas used them as an example when arguing against twenty-four-hour shifts for emergency room physicians. This patient had worked since midnight, having had no sleep the day before. Dangerous?

A high school track student in room two had a possible broken wrist. The E.R. staff was waiting for parental consent to treat, enduring endless telephone calls from classmates to check on the patient’s progress while the track coach searched for the completed consent form. Naturally the parents were out of town for the day.

A baby in room three had a red ear, and Lukas was still trying to decide if it was serious enough to treat with an antibiotic. The young mother had come in crying almost as loudly as her baby, and for a while no one had known which of them was here for treatment.

Two unwashed females stood out at the reception desk complaining loudly because they hadn’t been treated yet for their head lice.

“No, you did not ‘wimp out,’ Mr. Casey.” Lukas stood beside the bed of their first arrival, thirty minutes after they’d wheeled him in. The man still looked weak, although his color had improved. “You lost a couple of pints of blood. Your loving pet nicked an artery in your thigh.” He indicated Casey’s bare leg.

Lukas traced the stablike wounds on the inside of Casey’s right thigh. “That’s some cat.”

“This is just a love bite, Doc. My name’s Jake, or Cowboy, but don’t call me Mr. Casey.”

“A love bite?”

“Male African lion.”

“A pet?”

“Had him for four years, since he was a cub. I raise exotic animals for parks and zoos, but I kept Leonardo. He’s good company.”

“When he’s not eating various parts of your anatomy. You must live alone.”

“How’d you guess?”

Beverly entered the trauma room to recheck Cowboy’s vitals and help Lukas finish irrigating the wound.

Covered in nothing but a towel, Cowboy’s whole body blushed. “Uh, Doc, I’d be grateful if you could spare one of those skimpy hospital gowns. It’d cover a whole lot more.”

Lukas grinned at him. “I think that could be arranged.” He glanced at Beverly. He had already seen the way Cowboy looked at her—and the way she looked back. “Maybe I should help him dress.”