Plain Jane (32 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Plain Jane
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16
The legal offices of Lewellen, Chakis and Dwight were so shabby and dingy Jane didn't want to sit down. From the expression on Trixie's face, she felt the same way. Mike, oblivious to his surroundings, was busy talking to Tom Bradley, who seemed animated about something. She wondered if he knew she was dating Mike. Probably not. She looked around at the tiny, sparsely furnished waiting room—two chairs, a worn carpet and a round piecrust table. Magazines with tattered covers, dating back several months, were in a plastic box nailed to the wall. Everything looked dusty, even the wooden shutters on the window and the olive green swag draperies with a cobweb in the middle. She had the feeling that if she sneezed, the room would fly apart. How old were the station's attorneys? Ancient by the look of things. Obviously, they weren't worried about billable hours.
Tom Bradley walked over to her. She politely introduced him to Trixie, who held out her hand, and said, “Charmed to meet you, Mr. Bradley. Jane has spoken about you so often. Is there a delay or is something wrong?”
“Neither, actually. I already looked over the contracts, and one of the secretaries is typing in some changes.” He turned to Jane. “I had to acquiesce to the wishes of the sponsors by telling them you would cohost twice a month instead of once. Just for the first four months. After that it's once a month for six months. From there on in, if Dr. Sorenson does well, it will be his show. You can guest anytime you want. There's still pending interest in you doing a television show in New Orleans. If you change your mind, call me.”
“I will, Tom. Thank you.”
“Dr. Sorenson said he's okay with everything in the contract. All we have to do is sign on the dotted lines, and it's a done deal. You didn't change your mind or anything, did you?” Bradley asked anxiously.
“Everything is fine, Tom,” Jane assured him. She moved a little to the right to be closer to Mike. “As you can see, you aren't going to get rich doing this, but it's wonderful exposure. And . . . you help people at the same time.” She playfully nudged her shoulder against his. “If you want, I can share my zingers and some of my one-liners with you.”
When Mike smiled at her, she took it as a signal that he wasn't quite as angry at her now as he had been earlier on the phone. “Have you heard how your battery guy is doing?”
Mike compressed his lips and stared at a distant object. “They don't know if he's going to make it. It was a senseless, brutal beating.”
“What are you going to do?” Jane asked quietly.
“When I leave here, I thought I'd stop by the hospital. I . . . canceled all my appointments until after lunch.” He turned toward her. “Do you want to come along?” he asked, looking hopeful.
Jane stared into Mike's eyes and knew he was miserable. “And risk becoming personally involved with your patient? I-don't-think-so.”
“All right, Jane. You were right, and I was wrong. Do you want me to grovel? Jesus, you have no idea how bad I feel.” He looked completely deflated.
He's finally getting it,
she thought.
Somehow I've gotten through to him.
“Actually, Mike, I do know how you feel. I'd love to go with you.” She turned around and looked at Trixie. “Will you drive my truck home?” At Trixie's nod, she took Mike's hand and squeezed it.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, honey. I hate hospitals. People
die
in hospitals. Everyone says that. As soon as you tell people someone is in the hospital, that's what they say. People die in hospitals. People also get well, but we never say that. I wonder why that is. I don't want this guy to die, Jane. I need to help him. I've got everybody in the world trying to figure out what his problem is.”
She couldn't stand to see the man she loved so miserable, but she wasn't yet ready to tell him what she thought was wrong with his patient. “It looks like the contracts are ready. Let's sign off and be on our way. By the way, I made an offer on my parents' old house today. The realtor said the owner is looking for a quick sale and thinks he'll take it.”
“Nice going. Are you going to rent it out? Did you do it for investment purposes?”
“Nah. I'm gonna burn it down with whatever is inside.”
Trixie gasped, and Mike laughed.
“I guess that makes some kind of sense depending on where you're standing,” Mike said, still laughing. “You aren't going to do stuff like that after we're married, are you?”
Jane squinted her eyes. “I am a woman of many mysteries. You'll just have to wait and see.”
 
 
It was like all hospitals, a place of hope and a place of despair. She'd only been there twice in her life. Once when her father died and a second time when her mother passed on. With her father, she'd been full of hope, but with her mother, she'd experienced nothing but despair. Afterward, she'd cried for weeks on end. Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could remember the lobby, the waiting room, the smells, the generic pictures on the wall, the small chapel, the gift shop and food counter where all you could smell was licorice, coffee, and egg salad.
She sat down on a blue plastic chair to wait while Mike talked to the volunteer behind the desk. The chairs used to be a muddy brown color. A few of them, the ones on the end, had been orange. Evidently plastic chairs didn't last forever. Nothing lasted forever.
Jane went into the gift shop and looked around. When she didn't see what she was looking for, she asked the clerk, “Do you have any batteries?”
“Sure. What kind?”
“C's, D's, whatever.”
The clerk pointed to a small rack at the end of the counter. Jane spun the rack around. Which ones should she get? Which ones would give off the biggest charge? The D's, of course. She bought two packs of D's and a pack of triple AAA's. She opened them the minute she paid for them and slipped them into her purse. By the time she returned to the hard, blue plastic chair, Mike was walking toward her.
“They're going to let us see him. His family isn't here yet, so they said we could visit once I explained we, as in you and I, were his doctors.”
“Bending the rules, eh? Do you think that's from hanging around me, or are you finally realizing you don't always have to go by the book?” She was pushing it, she knew, but better to push it now so it hit home rather than later when he could shrug it off.
“Both. His doctor is Jim Yahner, and he's on the floor. Maybe he'll talk to us.”
They rode the elevator in silence to the third floor. Mike headed for the nurse's station where two doctors were discussing a chart one of them was holding. They both looked up, recognized Mike, and offered their hands.
Jane waited on the side while they talked. She heard snatches of the conversation. The patient they were talking about was William Winslet. If it was the same William Winslet, she had gone to school with him up to the seventh grade.
Mike reached for her hand. “We can go in, but only for ten minutes.”
“Wait a minute, Mike. Is your patient's name Willie Winslet?”
“Yeah, how did you know?” he asked, looking perplexed.
“I heard one of the doctors say his name. I went to grade school with Willie. His parents took him out in the seventh grade and had him tutored at home. He was very frail and sickly. I don't remember what was wrong with him, though. What did the doctor say?”
“He said Willie suffered multiple broken ribs, a concussion, a broken shoulder, and a ruptured spleen. They taped his ribs, set the shoulder, and removed the spleen. It will take time, but physically he should be fine. Mentally is another story. Jim said he's not responding. He can't understand why.”
They entered the room and stood looking down at the frail-looking man in the bed.
“I know why, Mike. I'm no magician, so don't go thinking I am. But watch this,” Jane said, taking two of the D batteries out of her purse. She walked over to the bed and put one in each of Willie's hands. She put the Triple AAA's behind his neck on the pillow.
Mike grabbed her and pulled her back. “What the hell are you doing? Those aren't sterile. Jesus, this is Intensive Care. You can't do stuff like that in Intensive Care,” he hissed.
Jane ignored him and kept her eyes on Willie. “Look, Mike!”
Slowly, Willie opened his eyes and blinked. “Doc! What are you doing here?” he asked in a raspy voice. He lifted his hand to look at the battery. “Hey, man, thanks. That son of a bitch took all my batteries. Every last one of them. How'd you know I was here?”
Mike let go of Jane's hand and stepped forward. “The police found my card in your pocket and called me. The doctor said you're going to be okay. Whoever attacked you really did a number on you. Can you tell me what happened?”
“This real bad-ass jerk broke into my house and started whacking me around. He wanted the batteries. I guess I blacked out, and the next thing I knew I was here. Who's this with you?” Willie gestured toward Jane.
“Willie, it's Jane Lewis,” she said. “You used to sit behind me in homeroom. Do you remember me?”
“Yeah. You had so much hair I couldn't see over your head. I've called into your show a couple of times. You sounded like you really cared. Remember that time you said don't trust anyone who keeps their eyes open when kissing? I dumped the chick I was seeing right then and there.”
Jane laughed as she discreetly slipped two more D batteries into Mike's hands.
Mike opened his hands and showed them to Willie. “Here's a couple of spares in case you need them,” he said, setting them on the bedside table.
His voice was so choked up, Jane had to turn away to wipe at the tears misting her eyes.
“Hey, thanks for coming and . . . thanks for caring,” Willie said, smiling weakly. “You psychiatrists aren't cold fish at all. You get a bum rap from what I hear.”
“We'll leave you alone now, Willie. They said we could only stay a few minutes. If you need me, have one of the nurses call me, okay?”
Jane wrapped her arm around Mike's waist and hugged him. “He's asleep, Mike. Look how peaceful he looks.”
“Yeah, he does, doesn't he?”
Before leaving the hospital, Mike tracked down Willie's doctor and told him that under no circumstances was he to take Willie's batteries away.
Once they were in his car, he turned to her, and confronted her. “Spit it out, Jane.”
She took a deep breath. She'd been dreading this moment. “I had this dream, Mike, and when I woke up, I knew.” That wasn't quite the way it happened, but better to let him think she just woke up with the idea than to tell him the boy in her dream gave her the answer. She watched his facial expressions to determine what he was thinking. So far, he was buying her story. “Now that I know your patient is Willie Winslet, it makes sense. When he was in school he had no energy, no stamina. He was pale and listless all the time. He couldn't do anything but sit. I don't know if he grew out of whatever his problem was or what. Anyway, something must have triggered an alarm somewhere along the way, and he started buying batteries, thinking they would give him energy. You said he was healthy and robust when he first came to you. I think he experienced some kind of trauma before he started seeing you. If you stop to think about it, it does make sense in a weird kind of way. The elder Winslets still live in town. You could talk to them. But I want to caution you—If you do, you'll be getting even more personally involved. If it was me, I'd do it. If Willie was my patient, I'd suggest hypnosis. The flip side is you can let him walk around with his batteries for the rest of his life.”
Mike leaned toward her and kissed her. “I have to admit, you're one smart lady, ya know that?”
“How about buying me some lunch? I'm starved. Maybe you can help me figure out what to do with Todd Prentice and Brian Ramsey. You aren't going to believe what Trixie and Fred are doing. I'm not sure I believe it myself,” Jane said, smiling at him. “An expensive lunch, Sorenson, because I'm worth every penny of it.”
 
 
It was one o'clock on the dot when Mike dropped Jane off at the farm. “I wish I could stay, Jane, but I have to get back. I'll see you around seven, give or take a few minutes, okay?”
“I'll be waiting. There isn't a whole lot to do here right now with Murray working with the new dogs. Loads of paperwork, though. I need to get on that. Are you bringing dinner or am I cooking?”
“We haven't had Chef Roy cook for us in a while. How about some crawfish gumbo for you and some shrimp en brochette for me. Salad with fig vinaigrette and potato salad on the side.”
Jane licked her lips in anticipation. “Perfect. Get Olive the steamed vegetable platter and make sure they season it.”
Mike put his arms around her and pulled her close. “I love you, Jane. I didn't realize just how much until . . . until I had to think about what I would do without you.” He touched his lips to her forehead, then looked down at her. “Are you really going to burn down your old house?”

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