The twisted vines comple.., p.36
The Twisted Vines Complete Boxset, page 36
“Is it contagious?” his mother asks.
“No.”
“Can he return to school?”
“Yes, absolutely.” The loud sigh from my patient informs the room that’s not the answer he was hoping for.
“Good luck in the soccer match this afternoon, Zach. I’ve got to take this call. Good seeing you both. And hey, don’t go swimming without your mom knowing. Be smart.” I hold out my fist for a fist bump. He reluctantly holds out his fist. “Simone can point you in the direction for checkout.”
Simone pats me lightly on the back when I exit the room. It’s a condolence pat. I speed down the hallway, considering possible callers.
Who is it? I’ve spent the last five nights at Kairi’s. I leave in the morning, shower at my place, check in on my mom, and come to work. Kairi and Mom both have my cell and would text if they needed something. I doubt Dan remembers the name of the clinic I work at, so he would only call my cell. If Aimee has pulled me out of a hectic day because of an issue with the rental apartment, I will snap.
There is nothing more frustrating than entering room after room of irritated patients who have been waiting for over thirty minutes because I am off schedule. And this call will make it worse.
Our reception area has a glass window on the patient side and is accessed by a door in the back of the rectangular room. The walls are lined with shelves and three-ring binders, and below two counters are file cabinets, filled with color-coded files. I drop the file from my most recent patient into the completed cases box and press the blinking light on the phone keypad.
“Hello?” Static fills the line. “Hello.” My finger hovers over the lever to disconnect the call.
“Hi. David? Ahm, Dr. James? Is that you?”
The woman’s voice is not at all familiar.
“Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Amanda Peterson. I work at Providence Queens.” I check my watch.
“Yes.”
“Your mother is here.”
“Is she okay?” The two women in the room stare at me, and I turn my back to them.
“Yes. Yes. She is. She’s here for an MRI. But we don’t have her on the schedule today.”
“She’s always getting the date of that appointment confused. Can you tell her it’s not until next week?” Why are you calling me?
“Ahm, well, yes, I’ve told her that. But, you see, she seems a little confused. If she were my mother, I wouldn’t want her driving right now.”
“What is she doing?”
“She’s sitting on a bench. I’ve checked her vitals. She’s okay. But she seems…”
“Confused.” I scratch my head, taking this in. Providence Queens is at least thirty minutes away, forty-five minutes with traffic.
“David, you may not remember me. I’ve known you since you were a little boy. I’m in your mother’s church study group, and I’ve been to your house a number of times. She’s my friend, and I can tell something is off. I think it would be better if she didn’t drive.”
“Yes. Of course.” I could call a cab, but if Mom is confused, then getting into a cab would confuse her more.
I have Amanda Peterson give me her location within the hospital, her extension, and she promises to keep an eye out for Mom until someone can get there.
I call Dan, but he doesn’t pick up. I call Kairi. She’s closer to the hospital than I am. She picks up on the first ring.
“Hey. Everything okay?” She knows I don’t make frivolous calls during the workday.
“No. I got a call from Providence Queens. Mom’s up there and—”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. She’s confused. Her friend is worried about her driving.” I check my watch again. I can get Dr. Adams to cover for the patients already here, which will blow up his whole day. We can cancel patients, too.
“I can pick her up.” I look at the phone in my hand. Of course, that’s exactly what I was hoping she would say, but hearing it, I second guess it.
“Are you sure?” Mom knows Kairi. It will be less confusing than a cab driver, and Kairi can help her get situated at home. “I’m completely overloaded. Dan didn’t pick up. I don’t have any of her friends’ contact information.”
“David. It’s okay. I could use a break.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I hear a car door slam. There’s a pause, then she comes back on. “I’m already in the car.”
“What car?” That car door didn’t sound like her mother’s ancient truck.
“Trevor’s. And I’ve got the hospital address in the nav.” I could tease her for needing navigation to get to the hospital, but I don’t. I use navigation to get plenty of places, although I mainly do that to avoid traffic. “I’ll text you when I get her. Get back to work. I’ve got this.”
She sounds cheerful. Energetic.
“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” And she is. Doctors have lives, and sometimes they do need to step out. But I’ve been working at this clinic for a short time. I’m still building my rapport with patients. I have not yet reached the comfort level where I can clear my schedule of appointments for the afternoon. And do doctors ever reach that level? If I leave, then Dr. Adams’ day becomes a literal hell.
I grab my cell from the charging station on my desk and slip it into my coat pocket. I check the schedule to see who has been waiting the longest and head to Room C. Two patients later, I get a text.
She’s okay. A little spacey. I’ve got her in my car, and I’m headed back to your house now. She keeps clutching that necklace. ;-) I’m going to try to get her to take a nap when we get home.
Thank you.
All right. She’s had lunch and is resting now. I’m going to work from here this afternoon. Just to make sure she’s okay when she wakes up.
I blink at the text. There’s a squirmy toddler sitting on his mom’s lap with 103-degree temperature and glassy eyes. She’s clutching her mom, and as I read the text, I am hit with a desire to hold on to Kairi the same way. I am so grateful she’s doing this for me. She’s always been like this. Dependable. Caring.
Are you sure? If it’s a problem, she should be okay.
Not a problem. What time do you think you’ll get home?
I’m not closing today, so I’ll be done at five.
I should be back by six.
See you then. Don’t worry!
The afternoon goes by in a blur. My mom has a network of friends who would help out in this situation. I will need to get a list of those women and their contact information. Or maybe that Amanda Peterson who called me might have suggestions.
I work too far away from Howell Mountain to be able to respond to immediate needs. I thought by moving home I could easily take care of her, but I didn’t think that through.
When I enter Mom’s house, I’m met with a delicious aroma. I follow the scent into the kitchen. Kairi is standing at the stove, stirring something in a big silver pot. She glances over her shoulder and smiles. I pull her back to my front, wrap my arms around her, and hold her against me the way I’ve wanted to all day. I place a kiss on her cheek, and she deposits one on my chin.
“Something smells good.” She assumes I’m talking about the food, but really, with my nose in her blond strands, I’m referring to the woman in my arms. My nose rubs along the edge of her ear, and I inhale. She has a natural, welcoming, delicious scent that’s all Kairi. My body responds to her. All the tension, manifested in tight back and shoulder muscles, lessens.
“Your mom had all the ingredients for chicken dumpling soup. I think she enjoyed showing me how to make the dumplings.” I frown. I doubt Kairi had time to play with flour this afternoon with my mother. “It’s okay. I was stumped. And, as is often the case, when I stepped away and did something else, I figured it out.” She smiles up at me with those brown eyes, and her freckles pattern curves up, augmenting that smile, and a rush of emotion floods me. I love her, so much. My arms hold her close, and I’d like nothing more than to stand like this for a long while, but she fidgets. With reluctance, I loosen my hold.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She went out back to do some gardening.” The garden is off to the back corner of the property. I haven’t been over there since I returned, but it occurs to me I do need to check it out and see exactly what it is she’s doing.
“Does she seem okay?”
“Yeah.” Kairi’s brow crinkles, and she leans back against the kitchen counter. “Honestly, she seems completely fine. At the hospital, she was dazed. But nothing you can pinpoint specifically. She didn’t think to ask me what I was doing there at the hospital. She simply went with Amanda and me. It wasn’t until after the nap that she asked questions. But not many. David, I think she is aware something is off, and she’s scared.”
“She’s clutching that necklace?” I ask, remembering Kairi’s text. She always wears a short necklace with a gold cross. I’m not sure she’s aware, but she clutches it when she’s worried. Or when she’s struggling with what to say. She used to clutch it during Dan’s baseball games. And she would hold on to it when Kairi would come over and we’d go out to the carriage house to study.
“Yes. Quite a bit.” Kairi’s smile is soft and warm. Empathetic. She strokes my arm.
“Are you okay?” She gave up half her workday and she’s worried about me.
“I’m good. I’m grateful. Thank you.” Yes, I am repetitive, but what else can I say?
“No biggie.” There’s that smile again. And a hint of concern. “Amanda Peterson says she’ll be happy to help out in any way she can.”
“Did she say what she thinks is going on with Mom?” If she offered up help, she has to have formed some theoretical diagnosis.
“No. She didn’t. But if you want me to ask her opinion, I can. She’s a nurse. She might have some recommendations on doctors or what to do. But given you are a doctor, she probably won’t give any recommendations unless you ask.”
“We need the MRI. A diagnosis. Her bloodwork is fine.” I rub my eyes. The nonstop day is hitting me.
“Well, I’ll be seeing Amanda again. If you have any questions for her.”
“You will?” I open my eyes. “Did you know her?”
“I remember her. Her daughter is Monica. She was one grade above us. She was nice. Anyway, I picked up a volunteer form. That’s why I’ll be seeing Amanda.”
“Volunteer for what?”
Kairi laughs. It’s funny how you can forget how much you like certain sounds. “Like a candy striper. Like I did back in high school. Remember?”
That’s right. She did volunteer at the hospital. She did things like deliver flowers to patients’ rooms and assist with delivering meals.
“You want to do that?” I can’t imagine having the time.
“Two shifts a week. I have a flexible schedule. And yeah, when I was back at the hospital, I remembered how much I liked doing that. The conversations I’d have. It’s a way of giving back, you know? Helping out with your community.” Her shoulders rise. It’s her way of wrapping up her conversation.
“You are volunteering.” I pull on my tie, loosening it. “But you are planning on leaving, right?” I haven’t asked her since she told me not to use those words. But I’ve been treating every single night as if it might be our last. As if she might up and go without notice.
“It’s not like it’s a contract. They’ll be happy with however long I can volunteer. They had a poster hanging that said volunteers were needed.” Right.
“I’ll go get Mom. There’s a ladle in that drawer. And crackers are in the pantry.”
I find my mother crouching down below a grape vine. Unlike the vineyards, we don’t grow grapes for wine. My parents planted this vine decades ago. When we get around to picking these grapes, we eat them.
“Mom?” She looks up from her spot on the ground. There’s a soft board below her knees and a pile of weeds to her side.
“David. Are you ready for dinner?”
“I am.” I offer her my hand. She grimaces as her legs straighten, and she places her weight into my support. “That Kairi girl came over. She’s been helpful to me in the kitchen.”
“Yes.” I study my mother. It could be my imagination, but I feel like she’s been aging more rapidly. Her eyes are clear. Her hands are chilly. “Let’s get you inside. Dinner is waiting.”
Her right fingers toy with her necklace as we walk.
“That Kairi. She’s a good girl. But you’re both so young.” Her hand lies in the crook of my elbow.
“We’re not quite as young as we used to be,” I say. At thirty-two, one could argue we’re pushing into our mid-thirties, but I suppose it’s all relative. My mother’s step falters, and I pause. Her entire face wrinkles more severely. The only movement is that of the tips of her fingers, rubbing that cross. Then she steps forward and nods.
“Oh, honey, you’re still young.” Crisp leaves crunch underfoot as we return to the house, arm in arm, steps in tandem. Did I imagine her consternation? Her symptoms are largely benign, yet until we have a diagnosis, the possibilities broker fear.
THIRTEEN
HEADLIGHTS
Kairi
The headlights glimmer as the vehicle winds up the road, the white lights flickering between the knotty, twisted vines that line my mother’s acreage. Three distinct beeps announce the gate by the road opening, so here I am, watching the bright lights travel the serpentine gravel road to our mountaintop abode. The video on the wall displays the sleek shape of Trevor’s Tesla as it passes the midway point.
The cursor on my computer monitor flashes. I’m in a chat room under the alias BW987. Yes, the BW is widely used because there are many Black Widow fans, hence the numbers on my ID. However, unlike the recent crop of BW adherents, I’ve been using this alias for at least three years. This identity isn’t fresh, so it garners access to some of the darker realms. Tonight, the chat room discussions are disconcerting.
On the muted television screen set to national news, the scroll reads, “Prominent Texas Businessman Gerald Anderson Held on Charges of Collusion for Terrorism.”
Barefoot, I head down the hall and swing open the screen door. Astra trots past me to greet Trevor, her tail wagging. He bends down to greet her, and she swipes her tongue across his face.
“How was dinner?” Trevor went into town to meet Erik and Vivi.
“Good. Erik didn’t show. Vivi brought food back to him. He’s apparently glued to the screen. Where’s David?”
“He doesn’t live here.” Trevor has no business assuming he will be here. Yes, he has been here a lot recently. I sleep better with him. Otherwise, I’d have been more forceful in ending this temporary thing we have going.
Trevor passes me in the doorway, kicks off his shoes, then shoots me a grin.
“What’s with the attitude? You two are good together.”
“There’s just a lot of history,” I mumble. I sit back on the couch and pull my laptop onto my lap.
Trevor calls out from the kitchen, “You want a beer?”
“No, thanks.”
He enters the den, beer in hand, and plops down in one of the reclining chairs. The older piece of furniture squeaks from his weight. He chugs his beer, then he cocks his head to the side. His eyes narrow.
“What’s up, freckles?”
“Nothing,” I answer automatically.
“Not sure I’m buying it.” He reaches down for the lever and crosses one ankle over the other.
My phone vibrates. It’s Jill.
“Hey, Jill.” The greeting tells Trevor this is work.
“Have you been in touch with Erik?”
“I have.” Texts on our team intranet, but we keep in touch.
“He’s not responding to me.”
“Do you want me to have him call you?”
“No.” She exhales out frustration. “Or can you tell me his status? Where he is?”
“Sure.” I click over to the running tally of utility firms he’s confirmed the worm, or code, has infiltrated, highlight it, and send it over to her.
“I have this,” she snaps. “What order is he going in?”
“Given the Texan, he’s been focused on the Southeast and West Coast. Also, the latest CIA updated pinpointed San Fran as a likely target.”
“Can you ask him to focus on the Northeast? He should’ve been going by utility size.”
“Will do.” I think he has been prioritizing by size. He’s working on disabling backdoors as he goes. Jill is aware of all of this, but I get tensions are high. Erik not responding to her is probably enough to throw any project coordinator. “Is that Texan businessman the same one I tracked?”
“Yes. His lawyer is the one who leaked it to the media. Conspiracy theories are through the roof. Homeland jumped the gun on bringing him in. You’ll see an alert in a day or two that charges have been dropped. They’re just trying to get as much out of him as they can.”
“I don’t understand.” Is he a part of this or not?
“Texas isn’t the target. Direct Erik to the Northeast. Okay?”
“Okay. So, you’re thinking New York, DC?”
“Yes.” That makes sense. Honestly, if I wanted to take down the US, that’s where I’d target.
Our call ends, and Trevor watches as I call Erik. He doesn’t pick up.
I text him on our team intranet. We are the only ones who can see these messages.
Jill called. Prioritize Northeast.
“Everything okay?” Trevor asks.
I chew on the corner of my lip. Project Plexus is helter skelter.
“In the military, we say S.N.A.F.U.” I raise a solitary eyebrow in question. “Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.”
