Duby's Doctor (26 page)

He trusted Hector to close his door and to
cover for him with the nurses. Jean had left pillows under the
covers of his bed so that, with the lights turned down, it would
appear at a quick glance that Jean was asleep, not to be disturbed.
He would have to be back before 11 p.m., because someone would be
coming then to administer his next scheduled medications.

Jean made it into the elevator, where he
slumped against the wall, panting and perspiring, until the doors
opened on the ground floor. When the doors swooshed open in the
hospital lobby, Dan Kavanaugh was waiting two feet away, with a
hoodie folded over one arm.

Dan stepped nonchalantly into the elevator
and quickly pressed the buttons to close the door and begin rising.
By the time the doors opened on the third floor, Jean was wearing
the hoodie and a pair of navy blue nylon jogging shorts. The shorts
belonged to Dan, which is the only reason they were large enough to
be stretched to fit over Jean’s leg cast.

On the third floor, onlookers saw nothing
suspicious. Two men left the elevator and took the pedestrian
bridge to the hospital parking garage. One of the men seemed to
struggle a bit with his crutches, but the other man helped with
navigating doorways and the like.

In the lot, Dan’s car was double-parked
adjacent to the pedestrian bridge. He helped Jean half-sit,
half-lie across the back seat in order to keep the left leg
elevated, then Dan took the driver’s seat, and they were off.

Dan checked the time on his dashboard clock.
“Right on schedule,” he called over his shoulder to his passenger.
“How you holdin’ out back there?”

Jean wiped sweat from his face with a jacket
sleeve. “I am okay. Just please do not have an accident now. I do
not think I could survive that, too.”

“You got it,” said Dan.

“But, drive fast,” Jean said.

“Right-o.”

“But still, be careful.”

“Will do.”

“But, do not stop if the light is yellow;
only stop for the red ones.”

“Dude, do you wanna drive?” Dan said, his
patience waning.

No answer came immediately.

“No,” said Dan, “don’t even think about it.
You’re not driving! Geez! Only half your limbs are working, and
you’re probably high on painkillers! I’m driving. I’ll get you
there. Geez. Take a nap or something!”

It was quiet in the back seat for a moment.
Then,
“Merci
, Dan.”

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

Less than an hour later, Mitchell Oberon
answered a knock at her door, after a look through the peephole
showed her Dan Kavanaugh’s huge form blocking out the light from
the streetlamps.

“Mister Kavanaugh!” she said, opening the
portal.

“Evenin’, Doctor,” said Dan. “I brought you
somethin’, but I gotta take it back to the hospital before
eleven....” He trailed off, uncertain what more to say.

“Well, uh, come in,” she said. “What is it?
Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise when Dan stepped aside to reveal
Jean, teetering on crutches, behind him. “Hello.”

“We have to talk,” Jean said softly, as if he
didn’t want to frighten her. “Just five minutes. Please. And, I
will go. I will not give you any trouble.” Although Dan had entered
the house, Jean waited for Mitchell to give permission specifically
to him.

For a moment, she held her breath and chewed
her bottom lip. Then, she exhaled in resignation and said, “Come
in.”

As he struggled to cross the threshold,
Mitchell hurried past him to clear throw pillows off the sofa,
saying, “Here. Get over here and put that leg up. You shouldn’t be
trying to walk on that knee yet—Wait!” She looked from Dan to Jean
and back again. “You sneaked out!”

Neither man answered, though their chins
dropped like little boys caught smoking in the bathroom.

“Dan Kavanaugh!” Mitchell turned to the big
man, who was still standing, while Jean lowered himself onto the
couch. “How could you? He’s drugged out of his mind, probably, but
you! You should be smarter than to try something like this!”

Neither man was foolish enough to answer.

“Well, you’re here now,” she said. “Might as
well sit down.”

Kavanaugh sat in an upholstered chair near
the door.

Mitchell moved to the chair directly in front
of the couch, separated by a narrow coffee table. She clamped her
hands together in her lap; it was the only way to keep them still.
She looked to be sure Jean had settled properly on the sofa, then
she dropped her gaze to her hands.

Jean looked at her for a long ten-count. Her
bruises were fading to yellow and brown now, and in her sweatpants
and tee shirt, with no makeup and her hair loose around her
shoulders and down her back, he thought she looked ten years
younger. Even though he could see the evidence of sleep
deprivation, and she had obviously lost weight, Jean thought she
was more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen.

Her bare feet made her seem, somehow, more
vulnerable. He wanted to take her onto his lap and hold her against
his chest, until she relaxed against him and he knew she felt safe
and cared for. Her stiff spine told him quite plainly that she
would not accept any of that. So, he bundled up his protective
instincts and stuffed them away, for now.

“How are you feeling?” he said at last. “Were
you hurt the other night, or when you were with those people at the
mansion?”

“I’m fine.”

“I have missed you,” he said, working hard to
keep it blame-free, warm, winsome.

“How’s Carinne?”

“Who?”

“Carinne? Carinne Averell, the girl of your
dreams? The girl you were kissing the last time I saw you?”

Dan jumped up and headed for the door. “I
think I’ll just wait in the car.” He let himself out and escaped to
the parking lot.

Mitchell stopped talking and pressed her lips
tightly together. If she allowed anything else to come out of her
mouth, at that moment, she was afraid it would be torrents of
extremely unpleasant rhetoric.

Jean sat with his mouth open, shaking his
head slowly. “I know the girl you mean. I had forgotten her name, I
guess, with everything else going on.” He watched Mitchell, who
seemed to be using all her strength to stay still and say nothing.
“But,
Michel
, I do not remember kissing that girl. I do not
remember kissing anybody. When did this happen?”

“As if you didn’t know!” she snapped.

“Let us pretend I do not know,” he coaxed.
“Tell me.”

“You were fighting that, that Rico person,
and he said I was your ‘woman,’ and I stepped into the room and
said I was NOT your ‘woman,’ and you knocked him out, and we put
you on the bed, and I went to get some ice, and you KISSED her!”
She pulled in a long breath.

“Is that all?”

“I don’t know! Carinne said she would go in
the ambulance with you, and that’s when I left.”

He watched her, certain she would weep at any
second, but she was doing a fantastic job of keeping herself
together. This was the Iron Maiden the orderlies talked about when
they spoke of Doctor Oberon, behind her back. But, he knew this was
also his
Michel
. And, she didn’t want to be his
Michel
at the moment.

“
Michel
, I believe I was unconscious.”
He spoke as calmly and soothingly as possible.

“I knew you would say that,” she barked.
“Very convenient, isn’t it.”

He waited to see if she would begin to calm
down. When her breathing seemed to slow, the muscles in her face
and shoulders seemed to loosen slightly, and her hands stopped
clawing desperately at one another, he spoke.

“I knew you were upset about something. And,
I do not want to argue or fight, I only want to understand. Because
you think I kissed that girl, you do not want to be my doctor,
anymore? And, you do not want me to live here with you? And, you do
not want to be friends, anymore? Is that the reason?”

She had been looking at him during her angry
tirade about Carinne, but she looked down at her lap again now.
“It’s one of the reasons.”

“
Merci
. Thank you for that,” he
said. Then he continued, using the tone one uses when gentling a
wild animal. “Now, before I must go, can you please tell me the
other reasons?” He leaned his head, trying to catch her downcast
eyes. “Please. And then, I will go.”

Mitchell moved her hands to the sides of her
chair, where she seemed to hold on securely, as if the chair were
going to rock and yaw, like a rowboat. “I don’t think I should be
your doctor because we have become ... we have a ... we had ... a
personal relationship.”

She waited until he leaned back against the
sofa and nodded his understanding.

He waited for more.

“I don’t think you should live here any more
because you are a grown man, and you need to be independent again,
like you were before ... before last year. There’s a danger I could
enable you or make you dependent on me—even without realizing it.
Plus, if you don’t live here, then I won’t know when you’re seeing
... when you’re dating. And, I shouldn’t know about that. That’s
none of my business.”

She waited, expecting some reaction, whether
denial or agreement.

He merely waited, with a friendly neutrality
on his face.

“And, I don’t think we should be ... friends
... I mean, close friends, because maybe one of us might want to be
more than just friends, and I’m ... uh, well ... let’s face it, I’m
several years older than you. It just wouldn’t be right.”

“Hmm,” he said, noncommittally. “I do not say
you are right, and I do not say you are wrong, I am just curious.
Do you know how old am I?”

She shook her head, no.

“I received papers from Dubreau’s boss,
Captain Crockett—“

“Boone,” she corrected.

“Ah,
merci
,” he said. “Davey
Crockett, Daniel Boone, I get them mixed up. Anyway, Captain Boone
gave me Dubreau’s papers.
Michel
, I am thirty-one.”

“Oh.”

“
Oui
. Did you think I was younger?
Just curious. Did you?”

“Um, yes. I guess I ... assumed ... you were
younger.” She said, eyes on her lap.

He took in a long, slow breath and then let
it out, as if preparing for a yoga pose.

“
D’accord
,” he said. “Now, I am
going to tell you something you need to know, and then, I will
return to the hospital. And, I hope you will think about these
things, and that you will—perhaps tomorrow, perhaps another day
soon—also return to the hospital. I am not the only person who
needs a good doctor,
Michel
. Do not be my doctor, if you do
not want to, but there is no need to punish everyone else. People
miss you. They need you.”

She nodded. She looked up and faced him, with
a good deal less anger and trepidation than she had felt
earlier.

“
Michel
, I do not believe I kissed
that woman, but I truly do not remember what happened. Perhaps, she
kissed me. I only know that I have no relationship with that woman,
and I have no feelings for her.”

He waited until Mitchell nodded, indicating
she had heard him. She didn’t indicate whether she believed
him.

“
Bon
,” he said. “Next, you do not
think you should be my doctor, if we have a personal relationship.
I agree. If I have to choose, I choose to be your friend—that’s a
personal relationship. So, then, you will not be my doctor.
Okay?”

She looked surprised, but she nodded.

“You think I should be an independent person.
I agree. A man needs to be able to care for himself, and then for
his family. I will start by living again on Dubreau’s boat. Where
are my belongings, by the way?” He looked around the room as if he
might spot his things piled in a corner.

“In storage, until you get ready to leave the
hospital,” she said. “When you have set a date, you just call the
movers and they bring it all to you. I’ve paid for six months. I’ll
give you all the information.”

“Ah,” he said. “
Trés bien
. Very
smart. And very generous.
Merci.”

He thought for a moment, ticking his thoughts
off on his fingers as if making sure he had covered all points.

“That brings us to my dating, and your
ancient, terribly, horribly old age.” He winked at her.

Almost against her will, she smiled for the
first time.

“I have no plans for dating, so that is not
an issue,” he waved one hand as if to dismiss that idea and send it
far away.

“As for the age, well, I am getting older
every day. Also, I do not know your age, and I do not want to know.
And, I am not afraid of pumas. So, that is not an issue.”

“I don’t think—” she began.

“
Mademoiselle
, please do not think
until I have left the building,” he said, hauling himself up from
the couch.

She retrieved his crutches from the floor
beneath the coffee table and helped him to the door.

“Be careful sneaking back in,” she said.

“
Merci
. I will.
Bon nuit,
Michel
.”

She closed the door behind him, and he was
gone.

She felt different somehow. The future was
still a mystery, but it didn’t seem as bleak as it had just an hour
ago. Mitchell had a lot to think about. She decided to start
immediately.

By the time the 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. shift
arrived at the hospital the next morning—the fifth day after the
rescue raid—a new legend about the exploits of Jean Deaux was
circulating throughout the corridors and nursing stations.
Reactions to Jean’s secret outing the night before were mixed.

Hector and his camp shared high-fives and
thumbs-ups and, if possible, would have carried Jean through the
hallways on their shoulders. These romantic thinkers (made up of
many staff members, and even some patients and their families)
celebrated Jean’s successful escape, which they surmised was
attempted in order to woo his lady love.