Рита Браун - Claws And Effect

Sitting across from her in the chaste rectory was Bruce Buxton. Insufferable as he could be, he gave of his time and knowledge, visiting those that needed medical attention. How Herb had ever convinced him to participate puzzled her.

"-three teeth. But the jaw isn't broken." BoomBoom Craycroft read from her list of clients, as the group called their people.

Herb rubbed his chin, leaned back in his seat. "Can we get her down to the dentist? I mean can she get away from him and will she go if you take her?"

BoomBoom, becoming something of an expert on domestic violence, said, "I can try. He's perverse enough to knock out the new teeth if she gets them."

Bruce spoke up. He'd been quiet up to now. "What about a restraining order?"

"Too scared. Of him and of the system." BoomBoom had learned to understand the fear and mistrust the very poor had of the institutions of government and law enforcement. She'd also learned to understand that their mistrust was not unfounded. "I'll see if I can get her out of there or at least get her to the dentist. If I can't, I can't."

"You're very persuasive." Herb put his hand on his knee as he leaned forward in the chair a bit. His back was hurting. "Miranda."

"The girls and I"-she meant the choir at the Church of the Holy Light-"are going to replace the roof on Mrs. Weyman's house."

"Do the work yourself?" Little Mim asked. Though an Episcopalian and not a Lutheran, she attended for two reasons: one, she liked Herb, and two, it irritated her mother, who felt anything worth doing had to be done through the Episcopalian Church.

"Uh-no. We thought we'd give a series of concerts to raise money for the roof and then perhaps we could find some men to donate their labor. We're pretty sure we can come up with the money for materials."

"Here I had visions of you on the roof, Miranda." Herb laughed at her, then turned to Bruce, moving to the next topic on the agenda. "Any luck?"

Before Bruce could give his report they heard the door to the rectory open and close. Larry Johnson, removing his coat as he walked from the hall to the pleasant meeting room, nodded at them.

"Late and I apologize."

"Sit down, Larry, glad you could make it. Bruce was just about to give his report about the hospital cooperating with us concerning our people who can't pay for medical services."

Larry took a seat next to Miranda. He folded his hands, gazing at Bruce.

Bruce's pleasant speaking voice filled the room. "As you can imagine, the administration sees only problems. Both Sam and Jordan insist we could be liable to lawsuits. What if we treated an indigent patient who sued, that sort of thing. Their second area of concern is space. Both say Crozet Hospital lacks the space to take care of paying patients. The hospital has no room for the non-paying."

Little Mim raised her hand. Bruce acknowledged her.

"While I am not defending the hospital, this is true. One of my goals as a board member and your next mayor"-she paused to smile reflectively-"will be to raise the money privately for a new wing to be built."

"Thank you." Herb's gravelly voice was warm. He was amused at her campaigning.

"It is true," Bruce agreed, "but if we could bring people in on the off hours, before eight A.M. or after three P.M., we might at least be able to use equipment for tests. I know there is no way we will get hospital beds. Which brings me to the third area of concern voiced by the administration, the use of hospital equipment. The increased wear and tear on equipment, whether it's IVAC units, X-ray machines, whatever, will raise hospital operating costs. The budget can't absorb the increases." He breathed in. "That's where we are today. Obviously, Sam and Jordan don't want to give us a flat no. They are too politically astute for that. But there is no question in my mind that they evidence a profound lack of enthusiasm for our purpose."

The room fell silent, a silence punctuated when the door to the rectory was again opened and closed. The sound of a coat being removed, placed on the coatrack was heard.

Tussie Logan, face drawn, stepped into the room. "Sorry."

"Come on in. We know your time isn't always your own." Herb genially beckoned to her. "Bruce has just given us his progress report."

"Or lack thereof," Bruce forthrightly said. "Tussie, you look tired."

Bruce slid his chair over so she could wedge in between himself and BoomBoom.

"One of my kids, Dodie Santana, the little girl from Guatemala, had a bad day."

"We're sorry." Herb spoke for the group.

"We'll do a prayer vigil for her," Miranda volunteered.

"Thank you." Tussie smiled sadly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I'm glad you did." Larry lightened the mood. "It means I'm not the last one to the meeting."

"Back to business then." Herb turned to Bruce. "Can we get access to the hospital's insurance policy?"

"Yes. I don't think Sam would refuse that," Bruce replied.

"But who would understand it?" Larry said, half in jest. "I can't even understand the one Hayden and I have for the practice."

"I believe Ned Tucker will help us there." Herb watched as both Cazenovia and Elocution paraded into the room. "Harry?"

"I'll call him." She volunteered to ring up Susan's husband, a man well liked by all except those who crossed him in court.

"Bruce and I have spoken about this," Tussie joined in, "and-there's no way to delicately put this. Jordan Ivanic fears poor patients will steal-not just drugs, mind you, which would be most people's first thought, oh no, he thinks they'll steal toilet paper, pencils, you name it."

"He said that?" Harry was upset.

Cazzie jumped in her lap, which made her feel better. Elocution headed straight for Herb.

"Yes. Flat out said it." Tussie tapped her foot on the floor.

"My experience is the biggest thieves are the rich." Bruce rubbed his chin, perceived the frown on Little Mim's face, and hastened to add, "Think of Mike Milken, all those Wall Street traders."

"Well, I think I'd better call upon Sam and Jordan." Herb petted his youngest cat, who purred loudly.

"Meow." Elocution closed her eyes.

Bruce said, "I've been able to secure the cooperation of at least one physician in each department. Our problem now is convincing Sam Mahanes to use a portion of the hospital, even a room, to initially screen these people.

"He did voice one other small concern." Bruce's voice was filled with sarcasm. "And that is the paying patients. He didn't feel they should be around the charity cases. It would engender hard feelings. You know, they're paying and these people aren't. So he said if we could find space and if we could solve the liability problem, where are we going to put people so they wouldn't be visible?"

"Ah." Herb exhaled.

Miranda shifted in her seat, looked down at the floor, took a deep breath, then looked at the group. "Bruce, you weren't born and raised here so I don't expect you to know this but sequestering or separating the poor gets us awfully close to segregation. In the old days the waiting rooms in the back were always for colored people. That was the proper and polite term then, and I tell you no white person ever went through the back door and vice versa. It brings back an uneasy feeling for me and I expect it does for those of us in this room old enough to remember. The other problem is that a goodly number of our people are African-American or Scotch-Irish. Those seem to be the two primary ethnic groups that we serve and I couldn't tell you why. Anyway, I think Sam needs to be-" She looked at Herb and shrugged.