Oath of Office

CHAPTER 2

With a nurse, the licensed nurse’s aide, and the resident busy with the old man in one of the back examining rooms, Lou handled an ear infection in a toddler, an upper respiratory virus in an elderly woman, and a cracked finger bone in a fifteen-year-old high school shortstop, who was dangerously close to losing an entire limb if he didn’t stop leering at the doctor’s daughter.

Sixty minutes to go.

It may have been a case of doing the right thing for the wrong reason, but Take Your Kid to Work Day was proving to be a total success.

The nurse clinician, a newlywed named Barbara Waldman, appeared behind a wheelchair at the door to the treatment room. The man in the chair was someone Lou knew well-a sixty-two-year-old who lived in various doorways near the Annex.

“Desmond!” Lou exclaimed, helping the man onto the examining table and out of his tattered air force jacket. “That gang again?”

Desmond Carter dabbed at his bleeding nostrils with a rag and nodded.

For most of the homeless in the area, being beaten for sport by any of several gangs who roamed the neighborhood was routine. Usually, though, the attacks occurred at night. Desmond, though black, was known for playing Irish tunes on a battered pennywhistle. When the music business was slow, he cashed in bottles. A Vietnam vet, he was rail thin, but with eyes that never betrayed the hardship of his life. Today, his face was swollen and bruised, with a split lip and the bloody nose. His oily trousers were shredded at the knees, revealing deep abrasions. One shoe was missing.

“Good to see you, Dr. Lou,” Desmond said.

“Sorry this keeps happening, my friend. Want us to send for the police?”

“Ain’t worth it. Just some bandages and fix my nose if it’s broken. How you been?”

“Doing fine.”

“Still at the gym?”

“When I have time. A little sparring, some training when one of the up-and-comers asks for it. Listen, we got to get you undressed and cleaned up. Then we’ll check you over and get an X-ray of your nose and any other part that needs it. Desmond, that gorgeous young woman over there is my daughter, Emily. She’s here helping us out for the day.”

“Ms. Emily,” Desmond said, nodding and managing a weak, toothless grin. “It’s fine with me if you want to stay.”

Lou considered the situation and shook his head.

“Yeah,” Emily said. “You walk around your apartment all the time in your boxers.”

Had Barbara Waldman been chewing gum, she would have swallowed it.

“You have your hands full with that one, Dr. Welcome,” she managed.

“Listen, Em,” Lou said, “I don’t think so. Why don’t you wait in the lounge until we get Desmond taken care of.”

He missed his daughter’s glare as she left the room.

Nurse and doc gently stripped the vet down and helped him into a pair of disposable scrub pants and a johnny. He had absorbed a pounding, but it was hardly the first time. His abdominal wall was a road map of scars-the result of wounds, Lou had learned, that had led to two Purple Hearts.

Lou clenched his jaw. He had encountered more than enough violence and depravity to have developed something of an immunity, but in truth, he knew he would never be inured-especially when the victim was a guy like Desmond Carter.

He was preparing to examine the man when he heard the soft clearing of a throat from the doorway. Emily was standing there, hands on her hips, looking incredibly like her mother.

“Dad, you know how much I hate being treated like a baby,” she said. “I’ve seen street people before and black people, and even hurt people. It’s okay for me to watch-I promise you. You’re not protecting me from anything.”

Lou looked up at the ceiling and then the wall-anyplace but at his daughter’s wonderful face. He had been outmatched by her from the day she was born. Besides, exposing her to Desmond Carter this way seemed right. Still, it was probably something he should discuss with Renee. He envisioned his ex after the fact, arms folded, tapping her foot in exasperation, and heard her reminding him that she did, in fact, have a cell phone.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, he decided.

“Barbara, does Desmond have a record of an HIV test?”

“Negative test drawn here four months ago,” she said.

“Em, you can come in,” he heard himself say. “But stand over there by the wall. Barbara, how about getting her into double gloves and a gown. Might as well give her a face shield as well.”

Swimming in her gown and looking like a teenager from outer space, Emily inched forward and watched as Lou packed both Desmond’s nostrils and explained what he was searching for in each segment of his physical exam. He could see her eyes widen at the man’s scars.

“Desmond, are you sure about no police?” Lou asked.

“Next time, maybe. I got a caseworker. I’ll tell her.”

Sure.

“Barbara,” Lou said, turning to the nurse, “how about ordering a chest film and nasal bones? Maybe get a CBC as well. Then we’ll do whatever we have to, to fix that schnoz.”

“Okay. Then I’m going to stop in the back and see if Gordo and Roz are all right with that poor old man. I think they’re going to transfer him.”

“No problem,” Lou said.

Moments later, the receptionist appeared at the doorway.

“Dr. Welcome, there’s a Dr. Filstrup on the line for you-he says it’s urgent.”

Lou suppressed a smile.

An urgent call from Walter Filstrup. That had to be an absolute first. He probably wanted Lou to pick up some tuna on his way home and drop it off at the office.

Largely because of the documented strength of his recovery, and the way he related to clients, Lou was well regarded by the PWO board. But he was hardly ready to take over as director. And the truth was, there were few beside Filstrup who seemed interested in the job.

From day one, he and Filstrup were like a cobra and a mongoose-actually, more like a cobra and a baby goose. The wellness office was a small one as physician health programs went, leaving the opinionated, bombastic therapist with only a couple of minions to boss around … chief among them, Lou.

“Em,” Lou said, “Barbara will be right back. Linda, please patch Dr. Filstrup over to the doctors’ lounge. I’ll talk to him there.”

The phone was ringing as Lou entered the lounge.

“Welcome? It’s me.”

Lou cringed at the sound of his boss’s voice. “I’m a little busy right-”

“Welcome, listen. You’ve really blown it this time.”

“I left the seat up in the office men’s room?”

“You’re not funny. In fact, you’re never funny.”

“Walter, what is this all about?”

“It’s about your darling client, John Meacham, the man whose license you single-handedly got restored.”

“He’s a terrific guy and a terrific doc. I had coffee with him the day before yesterday. He’s doing fine.”

“Well, today he shot seven people to death in his office and then turned the gun on himself.”

Lou sank onto the arm of the worn leather sofa, unable to take in a breath. “If you’re messing with me, Walter,” he managed finally, “I swear, I’m going to hang you by your thumbs.”

“Turn on the news. Any news.”

“You sure it’s our client?”

“Your client. In case you forget, I never thought he was too tightly wrapped, and I told you that on more than one occasion. I kept pushing to get rid of that touchy-feely social worker therapist you were using, and to get him to a psychiatrist. But no.”

“Walter, stop it! This isn’t the time. Tell me again. John killed seven people in his office and then killed himself?”

“Not exactly. They’re all dead. He isn’t.”

“Where did they take him?”

“DeLand Regional.”

“As soon as I can get relief here, I’m going out there. I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it. And believe something else, too. All those supporters you have on the board may not be so supporting after this.”

Rather than make a disastrous situation even worse, Lou set down the receiver. Surprised when his legs held him up, he stepped numbly into the hallway, headed back to Emily. Ahead of him, facing into the treatment room, her arms folded severely across her chest, her magnificent profile as motionless as marble, was Renee.

Lou moved in next to her. Barbara Waldman had clearly not yet returned, and Emily was alone in the room with Desmond Carter. She had moved to the man’s bedside and was holding his hand.

Renee’s disapproving expression would live forever in the Take Your Child to Work hall of fame.

At that moment, Emily looked up. “Mom!” she cried with unbridled glee. “Guess what? I’m going to be a doctor!”