The Doctor and the War Widow (4 page)

“I’m not saying it’s a bad gig, Harley, but—” Donna moved closer to her.

“Look, girls, I’m going into the kitchen to refill this cheese tray.” Mike picked up the tray from the coffee table and made his way down the hall.

“Okay, I’d like to meet somebody in theory, but not if they’re jerks like these losers.” Harley shook her head, rose abruptly, and poured more wine. “I don’t need complications in my life. Not the kinds these guys bring.”

“What kinds are those?” Donna took the wine bottle from Harley and poured some into her own glass.

“Their damned insecurities, D. Think about it. One A-hole thinks I’m like his ex-wife because I’m ten minutes late in traffic. Another tells me his sad life story at a first meeting. Still another wants to give me a political lecture like I’m some stupid idiot with a poor grasp of world affairs.” Harley sighed wearily and leaned against the wall. “I’m not Mother Teresa. I can’t nurse some guy through the death of a child and the desertion of a wife. I can’t do it.”

“Maybe they all just needed someone to listen.” Donna clinked her glass against Harley’s.

“Not me. I mean, I’m sympathetic to you and my other friends, but I’m sick of a bunch of lunatic strangers telling me their problems.” Harley drained her glass to the lees. “They give me the red ass
and
the heart palpitations. I don’t need either.”

Donna frowned. Her tone turned grave. “How is that going? Your heart problem, I mean?”

“Okay. I’m going to Dr. Champagne this week. My heart sometimes threatens to come out of my chest, but other than that, I’m okay.” Harley grinned and reached for a piece of cheese as Mike passed them with the refilled tray. “Another reason I can’t keep this up. These men invite me to coffee dates. I can’t take all the caffeine.”

Donna slipped an arm around her husband. “Order decaffeinated coffee.”

“This whole thing bores me. I’d rather be writing. Hey, I may get a bumper sticker that says just that.”

Donna clasped her hand and swung it. “Just give it another shot or two.”

“Okay, but only because I love you.” Harley laughed suddenly when Donna smiled. “Oh, and I mean in a completely platonic sense.”

Chapter 4

Early June

Harley knew she’d promised Donna she would continue, but she had other more important commitments before she could follow up on any dating service.

Prior to Hurricane Katrina, she’d been diagnosed with mitral valve prolapse. Her condition required a visit to her doctor every six months. On her last visit a month earlier, Dr. Champagne had ordered a battery of tests. Her heart raced at the mere thought of what she would learn. She’d arrived fifteen minutes early for her appointment and read a book while waiting, but the words on the page made no sense. Her foot uncontrollably tapped a symphony on the floor.

“The tests were fine. You have no thyroid problem. No blood pressure problems, either. The heart monitor showed no abnormalities.” Dr. Champagne cast a paternal smile in her direction. He was a short, balding man with thick glasses.

“I have a question to ask you.” Harley cleared her throat. How was she supposed to tell the man that she was haunted by dreams of her own death? That she could no longer hold the Eucharist in her hands at Mass?
“Why does my heart race when I have to act as a Eucharistic minister? And-And I think of dying all the time.” She swallowed, her gaze averted.

“When did this start, dear?” His stare was penetrating yet kind.

Harley shut her eyes. “When my mother was sick, mainly homebound, I’d give her communion.” She wiped a tear from her eye. Even as she spoke, her heart pounded, and her hand inadvertently fluttered to her breast. “Now when I give communion at church, the same thing happens.”

Dr. Champagne nodded. “I know how hard it is to take care of an aging parent.”

“Do you think that’s why my ch-chest pounds like it does when I give communion? Am I remembering what happened to my mother? Her suffering? I still hear her saying the prayers with me.”

Dr. Champagne smiled gently. “Very possibly. You’re healthy. Aside from the prolapse, you are very fit. I know you exercise. That’s good. Stay away from chocolate and caffeine, and you may want to see your gynecologist as well. You’re forty. You may be developing female problems.”

Harley sighed resignedly. She suddenly felt very old. Just what she and Donna joked of so often was now coming to haunt her. “You really think I could be going through menopause? My mother didn’t go through it until she was in her late-forties.”

The doctor shrugged. “Everyone’s different, dear. Something’s obviously affecting you deeply, and tests don’t indicate anything abnormal. The problem may be of a female nature or a psychological one.”

The blood rushed to Harley’s face. She was sick of people telling her she was losing her mind. She snapped with more vehemence than she’d intended. “I’m not crazy, Dr. Champagne.”

His kind smile never wavered. “No, I don’t think you’re psychotic, but you’re dealing with a great deal of emotional stress that could be worsening the menopausal symptoms.” He met the gaze she tried to avert. “Harley, I’ve known you since you were a kid. It’s no disgrace to admit you need help. I could prescribe something—”

“No!” The word burst from Harley’s throat before she could control it. Her voice was so shrill that she was surprised the whole staff and waiting room didn’t run in to investigate. She lowered her head, ashamed, and said softly, “I won’t take any psycho drugs. I still get up in the morning. I go to my job.”

“All right. I see you feel strongly about that.” Dr. Champagne rose, crossed over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come back to me in six months. Sooner, if these panic attacks persist.”

“You think that’s what I’m having? Panic attacks?” Harley cast a quick glance at him and then clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

“Yes, I think they’re panic attacks. I think you’re anxious and grieving. You went through hell taking care of your mother, and the whole thing has caught up with you. Use this summer to rest.”

Harley cringed and suppressed a shudder as waves of ice and fire raced through her veins. That was the kind of stuff doctors told psychotic patients. Harley hung her head in shame, sensing that Eden would be ashamed she’d raised so weak a person.
Fighting rising despair, she smiled at Dr. Champagne. Before she rose to shake his hand, she wiped her clammy ones on her sides. A sickening iciness ran through her veins. “Thanks for your help. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

Harley dreaded the annual reunion Mass at St. Cyprian’s. As a faculty member and an alumna, she was expected to participate in the annual gathering before and after the service. Donna usually attended as well, but she was busy with her exhibit at a Julia Street gallery and couldn’t be present. Judy, Harley’s cousin, also had attended St. Cyprian’s, but she was out of town, visiting her late husband’s relatives in Texas. Without them, Harley found the whole event sour. She’d never been a popular kid, and many of the girls had more money than her family. They’d been none too shy about flaunting their wealth and snubbing Harley. When she now taught their children, Harley had to remind herself that she couldn’t project the anger she harbored against the mothers onto the daughters.

Harley returned the smiles of the graduates she recognized as she inched her way through the courtyard. The morning was unbearably hot, and Harley breathed deeply to settle the blood pulsing inside her veins. She stopped by the statue of Mary and took a deep breath.
Why am I here? Help me, please, sweet Virgin Mother.

“Thinking of becoming a nun, Harley?”

Harley cringed at the sound of Mary Ann Marks Saltaformaggio’s voice. Mary Ann had been without a doubt the most popular girl in school: cheerleader, basketball player, National Merit Scholar, and Student Council President. She also had worked on the school newspaper with Harley and had beaten her out as senior editor.

Harley swallowed and plastered an insincere smile on her face. “Hi, Mary Ann. How are you?”

“Well, things are great. David’s been named Chief of Medicine at the old Kenner hospital, and my dress shop is making money. Life is good.” Mary Ann ran a well-sculpted hand through her perfectly coiffed hair.

Harley imagined she hadn’t put those hands in dishwater in years. The woman still looked like a model-perfect doll, but her beauty was now artificially contrived. The bimbo clearly had visited a plastic surgeon, and it was no secret she spent every waking hour at the gym. Harley took a deep breath and fought to control the pounding inside her breast. Harley
hated the farce.
Most of the girls had been rivals in school, and their fake, forced smiles grated on her soul.

“Gee, that’s great about David. You must be really proud.” Harley wondered if her face would crack as she smiled or if paralysis would set in, leaving her with this fake smile. She hated being in the number of insincere people who smiled at each other in public but would be more than willing to wield a knife against their fellows in a dimly lit street. When she’d been a girl, Harley had viewed her classmates as mini-assassins ready to kill with a cruel word or a blow. Even as an adult, Harley saw them as smiling liars, ass kissers, or dreamers harboring delusions about their pasts. Mary Ann reigned as the queen of hypocrisy and cruelty.
How can we all be so hypocritical?

“Yes, but who could expect anything less from David? After all, he was named most likely to succeed when we were still in grade school.” Mary Ann showed every tooth in her mouth and oozed sweetness. She waved to her husband, who was locked in conversation with Jennifer Terry, Mary Ann’s major rival. The smile briefly faded, but she quickly recovered and beamed her benevolence on Harley. Leaning confidentially toward Harley, she placed a hand on her shoulder. “There are no hard feelings between us, right? You’re going to teach Melissa next year.”

Harley gazed at her, truly clueless. She and Mary Ann had never liked each other, but they had never quarreled. “Why would I have anything against you?”

“Oh, my, because of David. You’d dated him at one time, didn’t you?” Mary Ann cast a solicitous glance in her direction.

Harley stared at her, open-mouthed. Mary Ann’s self-importance was laughable. “We had one date in ninth grade. It’s not like we were sworn lovers.”

“I see.” Mary Ann recoiled as if she’d been stung. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make amends because—”

“There’s no need to make amends, Mary Ann. Your husband and I had one casual date.” Harley turned to go. The hot summer day threatened to smother her as her heart pounded like an anvil inside her breast.

“Harley, I just thought since I had so much, and you’d lost so much in not getting David that you might be bitter. Well, I figured you had regrets, anyway.” She cast an uneasy glance in her husband’s direction. David stood dangerously close to yet another old classmate.

Harley suddenly thought of John. A lump formed in her throat. How dare this bitch denigrate her husband to her face? He never leered at other women, cocktail in hand, when they went to functions or were in the company of friends or associates.
“My husband was a war hero. I have no regrets.” She turned on her heel and vanished before Mary Ann could respond. The woman wouldn’t see her cry.

The mass was in the gym, and Harley pushed through the assembled alumni and their bored spouses. When Donna attended, the whole ludicrous display was at least bearable. They always stood together and remarked on who was now fat and who was prematurely gray. The encounter with Mary Ann made her ache for John. Seeing everyone paired up like Noah’s Ark didn’t ease her hurt. She hurriedly turned toward the gym. The heat and humidity struck her like a hard slap in the face.

Fighting tears, Harley reached for the heavy doors leading to the gym and barreled into a figure entering the courtyard. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She colored darkly and tried to brush past the man, avoiding further embarrassment.

“Harley Michel? Is that you?” Bishop Bonura extended a hand and clasped hers firmly before she could turn from him. “I haven’t seen you in years, dear.”

“No, not since you married me to John.” Harley couldn’t believe her day was getting worse. Bishop Bonura was the man who supervised the Office of Catholic Schools. Even the superintendent answered to him. Harley saw that the bishop was studying her and undoubtedly noticed the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. To the man’s credit, he said nothing to embarrass her.

“I also baptized you, dear girl. Not that you’d remember that whole event.” The bishop’s lips twisted into a smile. When Harley was a child, the bishop had been her parish priest. The whole Archdiocese called their leader the “Ice Man.” He was tall and thin with salt-and-pepper hair. Brilliant but tactless, the man never smiled. The slight curve of the lips with which he graced Harley would have made many of his subordinates dizzy with pleasure, but beads of perspiration trickled down Harley’s back while her heart pounded in her throat.

“I have to help with the setting up inside the gym. Excuse me, Bishop.” Harley summoned as much dignity as she could and brushed past him. She winced at the thought that the bishop had seen her crying.
The old man had scared her even when he was her parish priest, but his fierceness had always made Harley defiant. She never wanted to show weakness in front of him. It was damned hot outside, and the gym had never been cool.

After helping the principal, Sr. Elizabeth O’Leary, with the altar, Harley took her seat in on a folding chair in the gym. Like the bishop, the principal had made no mention of Harley’s tears. Sr. Elizabeth had assigned her to give communion during the Mass, and Harley already suffered from the anxiety she always did when the priest consecrated the Host. Harley bowed her head, praying she wasn’t losing her mind.

The former students and their guests soon filed into the gym. Mary Ann and David sat immediately beside Harley and Sr. Elizabeth. Harley realized with a grimace she was grinding her teeth and that the hammering of her heart hadn’t ceased. The crowded gym also wasn’t helping Harley’s physical discomfort. Perspiration dotted her linen dress, and she had nothing with which to fan herself.

During the sign of peace, Harley shook hands with her principal and then turned to Mary Ann and David. David’s gaze followed her with obvious appreciation. Mary Ann cast a malevolent glance in his direction before extending her hand to Harley, showing all of her teeth in a fake smile. Harley then turned her attention to Bishop Bonura. The words rang in her ears.

When he finished, Harley moved to the center to head to the altar to help with communion. Her cold hands shook at her sides as her legs mechanically propelled her toward the altar. Her heart pounded so hard within her breast that her whole frame shook. Not even the deep breaths she took as she made her way to the altar could still her racing heart. Harley took even deeper breaths as she made her way to the bishop and the wafers he would place in the chalice. Bishop Bonura swayed before her vision. Harley’s legs buckled under her. The world swirled like a perverse carnival attraction and then went black.

Harley awoke in the school infirmary. Her gaze took in the same putrid-green walls she’d remembered as a kid when she’d been ill and needed the school nurse. Slowly, Sr. Elizabeth and Bishop Bonura came into focus, and a wave of panic filled Harley’s lungs when her gaze fell on her cousin Judy. Judy was talking softly to the bishop and Sr. Elizabeth. She wondered how she would explain this to her motherly cousin. Harley silently prayed that she could die right then so as to avoid dealing with the questions that would inevitably follow.

David Saltaformaggio held her wrist and grinned when he met her roving stare. “She’s back with us, Sr. Elizabeth.” He turned his attention to Harley. “Do you know where you are?”

Harley’s throat was dry, but she managed to answer. “I’m okay. I just need some water.”

“Here you go, sweetie.” Judy quickly ran to the water cooler, filling a paper receptacle with water. “Can you sit up?”

Harley nodded as David and Judy helped her from the reclining position. She took the receptacle with shaking hands and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m okay, Judy. How did you get here? I thought you were out of town.”