Wake the Dawn (21 page)

Esther wrote out the prescriptions and handed them to her. “Jefferson, do you want to go out and watch TV while we x-ray your grandmother’s arm?”

No response.

“I’ll push him out there.”

“With that arm?”

“Sometimes he takes over and wheels himself.”

Esther made a mental list of questions. “Let me do that.” She pushed the wheelchair out into the waiting room and positioned it so he could watch TV, which caught his attention immediately. She returned to the room.

“So, he is twelve, right?”

“Yes. He was five when the accident happened, but he has always been real slow. The doctor said there was brain damage when he was born. That was the problem, you see. His mother—my younger daughter—his mother disappeared as soon as she realized he would never be—you know, normal—and left him for me to raise. It was far easier before my husband died, because he helped with Jefferson.”

While they talked Esther ran the antiquated machine and then developed the images while Clara sat waiting, sat talking. And talking. Esther kept her focus on the older woman and refused to allow her mind to go where it wanted to. Back to the accident. Had the memories that kept intruding been of this very accident? Were these two the victims of her fears and incompetence?

Clara rambled on. “It’s still hard to fathom, after all these years. I mean: My car was white. Surely it would show up in the driver’s headlights, even if the taillights weren’t working, don’t you think?”

No, I don’t want to think.

“And there’s those red reflectors in back besides the taillights. We tried Jefferson in public school a couple of years, but it didn’t work. They have to take special-needs children—it’s the law, you know—but they couldn’t help him. So we just gave up.”

Esther clipped the images onto the viewer and studied the arm. “Yes, Mrs. Holmgren, there had been a break, and now it’s not healing well at all, thus the pain and swelling. See this here?” She traced the break line.

“Yes. But what does that mean?”

“That means you need to see an orthopedic specialist. I can set you up with an appointment in Grand Forks. We don’t have specialists like that here. I know you won’t want to do this, but there is no other option. They will most likely rebreak the arm, pin it or insert a plate, and watch awhile to make sure it is healing correctly.”

“But what about Jefferson?”

“Can your other daughter take him awhile?”

“I suppose she’ll have to.” Clara slowly shook her head. “I should have gone in earlier, right?”

“Hindsight is always twenty/twenty.” Esther swallowed. “Were you injured in the accident?”

“Not really, bruised and shook up, but Jefferson took the brunt of it.”

“How are you dealing with your feelings toward the driver of the other vehicle?”

“I pray for that driver every day. The guilt that person must carry. I wish I could tell him—her or him—that we forgive. I understand running away from something beyond our control, how often I’ve wanted to do the same. But our actions always have consequences and often they involve others. That’s just the way life is.”

“You are very gracious.”

“I live by God’s grace every day.” She rubbed her tender arm. “Thank you for your help. I have to be able to take care of Jefferson.”

“If there is something I can do…”

She patted Esther’s arm. “Thank you for becoming our new doctor. I feel there is something special about you.”

Esther forced her mouth into a smile. “Thank you. I’ll call you as soon as we can set that up. Let me wheel Jefferson out for you. Can he transfer himself to the car?”

“No, we have a lift in the back of the van.”

“But he can wheel himself?”

“Sometimes.”

Esther watched as the lift lowered and then raised the wheelchair. Jefferson did wheel himself in. Was he more capable than he was letting on and just letting his grandmother do all the work? Or what?

“Thanks again.” Clara settled into the driver’s seat.

Esther returned to the next patient waiting for her. Good thing she had her lunch along.

The moment the second patient left, she flipped on her computer and went searching for accident reports, by area and date. Sure enough, there it was, in the
Bemidji Pioneer
archives.

She read through the report, keeping in mind the two people she had just met, both of them victims. The accident was an accident, but leaving the scene—that was unforgivable. How could she have done such a thing? And to not know for all these years what was causing the PTSD? Even with all the counseling with Dr. Phillips, this had remained hidden. What were the legalities of such a crime? For it was a crime. Surely this would keep her out of medical school. Not to mention send her to jail.

She stared at the screen until the tears blurred it completely. Hadn’t she cried enough?

Barbara rapped at the door. “Difficulty breathing in room one. I’ll set up a bronchodilator.”

“Thanks.”

Finally, four thirty rolled around and she stopped in the break room for coffee. Cold. Much as she hated to, she poured a cup and stuck it in the microwave.

“Sorry, I didn’t get time to make fresh.” Barbara sank down on a chair by the round table. “I’ve put out the
CLOSED
sign and called Ben to tell him to come to the side door. Said he’d be here by five.” She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. “Consensus for the day regarding the meeting. Four glad the plans are moving ahead. Two think the townspeople are being railroaded. One can’t figure what all the fuss is about. I guess things got a bit hot over at the café this morning.”

The microwave
bing
ed and Esther added sugar and cream to make the sludge bearable. “Interesting the idea that we are railroading this through. Not like we’ve not mentioned it all these years.” Esther stopped in front of the snack machine. Something chocolate sounded real good about now. “You want anything?” Pulling out the dollar bill she kept for times such as this, she inserted it, and pushed the numbers. A Baby Ruth bar dropped into the compartment, and her change tinkled into the cup. “You want part of this?”

“Oh, you talked me into it.”

Esther smiled, crossed to the counter, and cut the bar in half. “Here.”

They were each taking their first bite when a rap came on the side door.

Barbara rose and went to let Ben in, following them to Esther’s office.

No greeting; Ben went right to the point. “What do you have?”

Her mouth full of peanuts, chocolate, and caramel, Esther handed him the folder with the report and took her chair behind the desk, pointing at the other.

Ben chose instead to lean against the door frame.

Was he being careful about being too close to her? She ignored the inner turmoil and watched him read, flip through the pages, and go back to read it again. After the scene last night, she’d just as soon not look him in the eye anyway.

“That could be Dawn’s mother.” He tapped a page titled
Jane Doe 3
. “‘Indications of parturition within four weeks of death.’ And no sign of a baby in the van. Not even a diaper bag.”

Barbara nodded. “That’s what I was thinking. A DNA test would make sure. What will they do with the bodies?”

Esther could answer that one. “John Does—and Janes—are kept in the morgue pending identification. We can draw a blood sample from Dawn for matching, or just swab the roof of her mouth. That works, too, but I’d rather go with the blood.”

Ben slapped the papers onto Esther’s desk with such force she jumped. “If it matches, Dawn will go into the social services system and be moved into a foster home.”

Barbara asked, “But Ben can still be the foster parent, right?”

“Doubtful. They look for two-parent homes; ideally, families already cleared to provide foster care. It’s quite a long and complex process.” Esther kept her voice on a professional level, just giving out the facts.

“I see. So step one is get a DNA sample off.” He snatched up the folder to stare again at the page with Jane Doe 3. Esther hated to see him so agitated. He tapped the page with a finger. “So what if we do nothing?”

“Have you filed those papers I asked you to?”

“What papers?” A frown connected his eyebrows.

“I’m sure I asked you to file the forms with social services.” He was already shaking his head. Esther tipped her head back. “Oh, my. I was waiting for you to…”

“I was waiting for you to tell me what they said. I figured you were going to file them, since you’re the designated medical person here. Been meaning to ask you about it.” He scowled at whatever was in front of him, in this case, her desk.

Esther couldn’t even see any straws to snatch at. “Okay. This is one of those things that fell through the cracks in all the mayhem. So far no one outside the few of us knows where she came from or anything about this.”

Ben was wagging his head. “Yeah, but we won’t be the only ones to connect two and two and figure it out. With the probable mother found, the cat is out of the bag. We have no more time. With Chief, we’d work something out. With Perowsky, she’ll be on her way back to China or wherever. A charcoal briquette has more sympathy.”

She sighed. “The only bright spot I can see, not filing with social services will look like a simple mistake made when our situation was in chaos. You assumed I would, and I gave her temporarily to an authorized law enforcement officer assuming that officer would. We get each other off the hook.” Easy to say, but the guilt snuck in again and jabbed her. If she were doing her job correctly, she should have followed up on the paperwork immediately.

“Right. She is a gift that just fell out of the sky and Bo found her. I say, don’t tell social services she exists until we absolutely have to.” He shut the folder and laid it back on her desk. “Let’s get the DNA thing going and see what happens next. I can go get her and bring her here.”

“Or I can go with you, do the draw, and make sure all is done just right.”

“I’ll lock up here. You two go on.” Barbara stood up.

“Thank you, Barbara.” She dug her purse out of the drawer, grabbed her medical bag, and got a Styrofoam cold-box out of the mini surgery. She scooped ice into it and followed Ben out the side door to where their vehicles waited side by side.

“You can ride with me; I’ll bring you back in.”

“Thanks but no thanks. This way I have the cooler and everything I’ll need, and…no, thanks, I’ll drive separately.” She knew she was rambling, but being in the same vehicle as Ben this evening was beyond her. She plopped her bag and the cold-box on the seat beside her and followed the border patrol van to Ben’s home. A law enforcement officer, of all people. And she a—
forget it, Esther!

He held the door for her at the house, and she walked into the kitchen ahead of him.

“Well, Dr. Esther, what a nice surprise!” Beth turned from the sink and smiled wide. “You two are just in time for supper. Ansel can set one more plate.”

She hadn’t counted on this. She should have. “No, really, that’s all right. I’ll just get the sample and get on home.”

“I don’t think so. I made a huge meat loaf and something prompted me to put in an extra potato to bake. Surely whatever you need to do can wait long enough for us to eat.”

Ansel came into the kitchen. “Well, what a nice surprise! You’re staying, I hope.” He reached up in the cupboard for another plate and plunked it on the table. “Come see our little girl.” He moved to the dining room, beckoning Esther to follow him. “See what we rigged up today.” A baby jumper hung from a spring clamped onto the lintel of the dining room doorway. Tiny Dawn was wedged into it amid pillows, her feet barely poking out the edges of the leg holes. “When she gets bigger, she’ll like it better, but look at her smile when I move this.” He gently pulled on the contraption and the dark-eyed baby broke into a grin. She waved her arms in delight at the movement.

“Oh, my, how she is growing.” Esther squatted down in front of the swing. “Hi, sweet baby. Look at you. Isn’t she just beautiful!”

“You won’t get an argument from any of us here.” From the kitchen, Beth slid the meat loaf onto a platter and set the potatoes around it. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“I need to wash my hands first.”

“The kitchen sink or the bathroom.” Beth poured cooked, sliced carrots into another bowl, sprinkled them with salt and pepper, and added a generous pat of butter. Down-home cooking, like Esther’s mom and aunts did.

Esther washed her hands at the kitchen sink and joined the others in the dining room, where she took the seat Beth pointed her to. When the others bowed their heads, she did likewise and Ansel said grace. His prayer for wisdom let her know that Ben had probably called ahead.

Once everyone was served, including little Natalie in her high chair between her mother and father, Ansel asked, “Ben told us about a DNA test. Logical. So what will the process be?”

Esther explained, “We’ll get the sample tonight. I’ll keep it on ice and send it in tomorrow. DNA usually takes about three weeks. Actually, they can do it in twenty-four hours or so, but they always have a backlog. And there’s always people who are certain they’re too important to wait in the queue.”

“I’m sure you both realize that this will put our sweet Dawn into the social services system unless we have a way around that.” Beth crumbled some meat loaf and laid it on the tray of the high chair, along with a few bits of potato and carrots.

Natalie started plucking up food bits. Apparently she was what one would call an eager eater.

Esther casually glanced at Ben. He had served himself man-size helpings, but he wasn’t eating anything with man-size enthusiasm. In fact, he looked downright glum.

“She wants to feed herself, but she just can’t handle a spoon yet,” Beth explained. Once Natalie was attended to, she looked at Esther. “Ben, Esther, I may have a temporary solution. I think you need to know that Ansel and I are cleared as foster parents. We’ve done all the paperwork, the inquiries and all. So we can petition for her to be left with us. We thought of doing that for a while, and once our house is repaired and I’m no longer nursing His Highness, I would like to have another baby to care for. I love babies, and this way we can make a difference.”