When You're Expecting Something Else (16 page)

Looking around, I see the prescription bottles on the dresser, so I walk over to examine them. Why does he need anti-anxiety pills and sedatives when Dr. Matthews wants him more wakeful? Then I notice that those particular pills have a different doctor’s name on the label. I make a mental note to mention it to Dr. Matthews. Sometimes when a patient has more than one attending they write conflicting orders if they don’t communicate regularly. I suspect that’s what has happened here.

Isabella meows and arches her back. There’s not a lot of room in her carrier. I’m sure she understands that Jared isn’t doing well. Of course, I won’t leave her here. I feel something sinking and dreadful in the pit of my stomach. I know something is terribly wrong. I’m worried, things aren’t adding up, but I can’t put my finger on why. I never even take Isabella out of the cat carrier.

I put Jared’s cell phone back in my pocketbook. I’ll give it to Maggie. I don’t quite trust Marta, and Jared is in no kind of shape to manage his own affairs right now. I sure hope Maggie is on the up and up because I’m very sure that Jared’s Aunt Margaret is not. It’s puzzling.

I walk to the front of the house with caution after saying good-bye to Jared. I’m actually afraid. I don’t want Marta to see my fear. I know better than to trust her. I decide to fake my emotions, so when I see her I smile and say, “Jared seems to be sleeping peacefully. You take such good care of him.” I don’t want her to know I’m really thinking she’s a bitch, a dreadful witch, and up to no good.

I have no idea what is really going on, no idea at all.

Chapter Eighteen

 
Marta Lewski stood scowling in the doorway until she saw Connie’s car disappear around the corner. “Shit, shit, shit,” she mumbled, twisting her trembling hands together. The last thing she’d expected was to see that twit at the door this afternoon, and especially not running into Dr. Matthews.

“Julius! Julius!” she hollered until the middle-aged, balding man bounded out of the room he called his office.

“What now?” he snapped, obviously irritated at being pulled away from the baseball game he’d been watching on TV. The San Francisco Giants were ahead seven to six.
 

“We have to do something. Now! That nurse came to see Jared. I don’t trust her. Oh my God…” She was all out shaking now as she rushed into Jared’s bedroom with Julius hustling to keep up with her.

“What’s got you in such a tizzy? You want me to do something about that nurse?”

Marta busied herself rummaging through the drugs stored in clear view on top of the dresser. “We have to do something about this! We have to get the Pacific West doctors off the case. I don’t think they saw the prescription bottles with your name on them, but if they did, we’ll be fried. What should we do? I didn’t count on them meddling.”

“First of all, we’re covered on everything. No problem getting Matthews off the case. We have all the paperwork we need. Aunt Margaret can fire him and put me fully in charge. It’s no problem,” he said, looking smug. “I’ve already got prescription pads, pharmacy codes, and office letterhead in my name. See, Dr. Julius Fenway,” he said, pulling out different prescription vials from inside the top drawer. I’ve already stocked our medicine cabinet here. I talked with the Pharmacist at Arthur’s Drugstore this morning. I faxed him my credentials. We’re covered. See, I’m way ahead of you.”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Marta said, still angry, “You’re not really a doctor and Jared really is a patient. Don’t forget he just got out of ICU. He’s going to need diagnostic tests and other procedures. What are you going to do then? Your fake credentials don’t know how to examine the patient!”

“You’re a nurse. You can just tell me. I’ll order whatever tests you want.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Marta mumbled, feeling totally out of control. “Jared can’t die, you idiot. I have to work this methodically, make him totally and completely dependent on me. I’m already over drugging him just to keep him confused. This is going to take time. What if I can’t wake him back up?”

“I’m ahead of you on that, too,” Julius said, reaching again into the drawer of drugs. He pulled out a package of prefilled syringes and handed them to Marta.
           
“Awakcan
,
” she said with surprise. “Where did you get this? It’s still experimental.”

“Antoni told me about it when I talked to him yesterday morning. He sent me some special delivery. See, you don’t think I do anything around here. Well, Antoni’s already got the computers hacked and switched. He told me that Awakcan is the new sedative antagonist they use with their drug overdoses. It’s approved everywhere except in the United States. You know how the FDA is here. It’d take forever to get something like this little miracle approved in this country. You can just use this stuff when you want to wake Jared up after you’ve over medicated him. You’ll be able to keep him good and confused, high and low in a moment.”

“Hmm, might work. Let me give him some now. I gave him an extra blue pill before Dr. Matthews came so he’d keep his mouth shut.” She fingered the drug getting a feel for the tiny syringe.

“It’ll work,” Julius said. “You want me to call Dr. Matthew’s office to let him know that Aunt Margaret wants him off, or do you want to it?”

“You do it. Fax him some paperwork, too. I’ll wake Jared up and work some of my magic,” she said, feeling much calmer. Her hands had stopped trembling. She expertly injected the new miracle drug into Jared’s upper arm.

 
“Hi honey,” Marta’s sweet voice cooed while her gentle hands stroked Jared’s face. “Time to wake up. Are you hungry or thirsty? I can bring you some soft apple crisp for snack if you’d like. You really liked it last night. Remember? I made it just for you, sweetie.” Jared’s eyes opened into the cloudless blue abyss where, with black lashes batting, her eyes met his.

Jared slowly shifted his position in bed, using the trapeze bar overhead. He shook his head as if trying to shake himself awake.

“Isabella?” he managed to say, though weakly.

“Yes, your cat was here, but the doctor doesn’t want her to stay. She’s not good for you while you’re recuperating. I told the lady not to bring her back. I’m so sorry, sweetie. I know you love your cat, but I’m here for you now. I’ll take care of you.” She rubbed the shoulder of his good arm. “You know I take good care of you, don’t you, Jared?” She coyly smiled, her perfect white teeth gleaming like tiny peals.

 
“I’m hungry,” he said. “Apple…” It was all he could manage to say.

*****

I unload the groceries from the bags on the counter and straighten up the refrigerator putting in order the carelessly tossed milk, cheese, and yogurt containers from earlier. Sometimes I think I have a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder because I like things organized in a certain way, like all the cans on the shelves have to face outward for easy view, and I like my vitamins in alphabetical order. Isabella rubs at my ankles, annoying me, but I know she feels as confused as I do about Jared. I’m not sure where to begin sorting out my thoughts but putting first things first, I want Dr. Matthews to know about Jared’s pills.

I call information for his office number. When I connect with his receptionist, she tells me that that Dr. Matthews is in with a patient, has a very busy afternoon, and brusquely asks if it’s an emergency.

“I just want him to know Jared’s other doctor, Dr. Julius Fenway, has ordered sedative and anti-anxiety medicines in addition to the pain killers that Dr. Matthews is prescribing. When I was there earlier, I thought Jared appeared to be overmedicated. I know that Dr. Matthews thinks he should be more alert.”

She cuts me off, hanging up before I feel satisfied that she understands the urgency of my message.
 

My duties done for the day, I still have several hours before sunset. I grab my backpack from the closet and stuff a few pieces of fruit inside along with the necessary contents from my pocketbook. I need to work off my restless energy. My hiking boots are still in the trunk of my car.

I find the trailhead easily and notice how different the terrain is from where I hiked yesterday. Here, at Wright’s Canyon Park, south of San Jose, the dirt trail is dark, moist, and rutted. It zigzags alongside a bubbling creek. The tree branches hang low offering canopied shade. I hike about a mile when I come to a junction with a sign that points to a waterfall veering to the right. I follow the sign through a dense copse of trees and straggly branches almost obscuring the waterfall, but I hear the pounding rush against the rocks, so I push closer, squeezing between the scratching branches until I see the spectacular cascade of water and feel the fine mist on my face. Bright green moss, thick and fluffy, coat the rocks and trees.

A fallen log not far from the waterfall is my invitation to sit, where mesmerized; I am lulled into agreement, the smell of dirt filling my nostrils with the pungent aromas of earthy decomposition. Mushrooms grow in the soft, black, leafy earth near the log.

So far, I haven’t seen any wildlife though I’ve seen evidence of its presence in the form of furry scat and faint tracks in the moist areas on the trail. I don’t know what kinds of animals live here, but suspect bobcats or coyotes, certainly deer, and of course ground squirrels and other rodents.

I wish I had time for a greater adventure, but I know better than to stay out on the trail after dark. I don’t have a great sense of direction. The only map I could find from my previous day’s computer search was sketchy and I hadn’t bothered to print it. Besides, I’d like to catch a sunset somewhere, so I pick my butt up off the mossy log and hike back towards my car.

Just as I arrive back at the trailhead, my cell phone rings. I can hardly believe my good luck when I hear Stan’s voice. “Hey,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I’m giving it up for the day, I’ve been writing all afternoon. Would you like to get together?”

I love the sound of his voice. I answer with my own uplifted lilt. It sometimes amazes me how my own voice sounds better when I’m happy about something. “You won’t believe where I am right now,” I say. “I’m just finishing a hike at Wright’s Canyon. I was hoping to find someplace to view a sunset.”

“Perfect,” he says. He gives me directions for where to meet him, a restaurant named
Lakeside Bobs,
near a lake with outdoor seating and a perfect viewing area for watching the sun go down.

“I’m not dressed for anyplace fancy,” I say hesitantly. I don’t want to jinx the plan, but I’ve changed from my earlier date clothes into jeans and a simple shirt. My pant cuffs have splashes of mud around the ankles, and I suspect that tree moss has darkened my seat.

“My kinda’ girl,” Stan says.