Unwritten Laws 01(309)

With an ache of presentiment in his chest, Walt followed his friend’s instructions about the room, then walked to the elevator and waited for the door to close. He thought of Tom and Melba, waiting for him ninety miles upriver. He hoped they hadn’t let the isolation of the lake house lull them into a false sense of security. He hoped they were being as careful as he was. Not one moment while he was in the lobby had Walt taken his finger off the trigger of his derringer.





CHAPTER 87




TOM AND MELBA sat on bar stools at Drew’s counter, finishing some eggs Melba had scrambled. They’d watched television for a while, but nothing held their interest, and Drew’s satellite offered no local news. Melba’s eyes betrayed exhaustion, but she’d brewed some coffee to stay awake.

“Don’t just sit there brooding,” she said. “You might as well talk about it. The time will pass faster.”

Tom wasn’t so sure. But after a while, he said, “I’ve got two sons, Mel. One is trying to save me, the other to destroy me. There must be a deep truth in there somewhere.”

His nurse kept her eyes on her plate. “Don’t be too sure. This world is hard. Always has been, always will be, till Judgment comes.”

Tom marveled at the certainty of her faith. Melba never proselytized, but she had an adamantine faith in God, and in the teachings of Jesus.

“Judgment,” he said. “That’s an ominous word.”

She looked up, her deep eyes holding his. “Not just for you. I’ve got my own stains on the inside, that no one but God knows about. We do the best we can, Doc. That’s all we can do. Though it don’t hurt to kneel in prayer now and then. You could have done a little more of that over the years. Wouldn’t have hurt you none.”

“I suppose not,” Tom said, though he disagreed. If you didn’t believe in a God who heard or answered prayers, then wasn’t prayer a kind of secular heresy? A failure of character—or at least of nerve? “Melba, I want you to go home after you finish that coffee.”

She looked up sharply. “Have you lost your mind? Captain Garrity left me here to watch over you, and I mean to do it. There’s no way I’m going to stand beside your casket and tell Mrs. Peggy I left you here alone to die.”

“What exactly will you do if I have a coronary? The nearest ambulance is thirty minutes away. All you’d be doing by calling 911 is opening yourself to criminal charges for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”

Melba looked indignant. “I’m a nurse, aren’t I? I can do compressions till the paramedics get here. And you’ve got adrenaline in your overnight bag. I checked it when you were in the bathroom.”

Tom smiled and laid his hand on her wrist. “And if a bunch of old klukkers find us?”

Melba drew back her hand and folded her arms across her chest. “I reckon I can shoot a pistol as well as most men. And it wouldn’t trouble me much to shoot a Klansman, I can tell you.”

Tom laughed. “I believe you. But it’s not worth your life, Mel. You’ve got grandchildren, and they need you.”

“So do you, old man!”

“Yes. But I made the choices that put me here. You didn’t.”

Melba’s eyes glistened. “I’m here by choice, too.”

“You’re here because you’re a good woman, and a good friend. But you can’t give your life for me. I won’t let you. You’re going to finish that coffee and drive home. Walt will be back well before dawn.”

This time, Tom could see he’d gotten through to her. The nurse shook her head, then wiped her tired eyes. “Dr. Cage, please tell me you know what you’re doing. All the years I’ve been with you, I’ve never doubted you. But this time … maybe you’re not thinking straight. People do crazy things when they feel guilty about something. Tell me you’re not planning to do something crazy.”

When he realized what she feared, he felt ashamed. “I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you mean.”

Melba lowered her chin and looked up at Tom like the experienced nurse she was. “Maybe not with your own hands. But if you put yourself beyond medical help, or where harm is likely to come to you, that’s just as much of a sin.”

Tom didn’t know how to answer this.

She leaned forward and touched the center of his chest. “Your patients need you. Where could they go if you passed? These young docs don’t care about folks the way you do. Especially old folks. You owe it to them to keep going as long as you can.”

Tom didn’t verbalize the obvious, which was that he had to die someday, and it would likely be sooner rather than later, no matter what happened tonight. Melba was right that his patients would suffer, especially those with chronic illnesses, but what could be done?