Richard Mabry - Code Blue

Will had parked his pickup at the curb. He held the door for Cathy, a gesture she thought died with the advent of the Wwomen's movement.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Since almost every place in Dainger was no more than twenty minutes from any other place, the ride to the church was short. Will filled the time with comments like, "That's the old Henderson place. They're both in a rest home now, and their kids are selling it."

Cathy glanced at the Bible on the front seat between them. "I'm sorry I didn't bring my Bible this morning. I'm afraid there are still some boxes I haven't unpacked, and it must be in one of them. I keep hoping that my practice will take offand I'll be able to get a house instead of renting the apartment over the Elam's garage."

"I can understand your not unpacking everything, but I hope you'll dig out your Bible soon. I think you'll find it helpful in dealing with the stress you're under right now."

Cathy flinched. Here we go. Pressure me into church, then give me the lecture about how terrible it is that I haven't been on great terms with God since my parents died. God let me down then, and so far as I'm concerned, it's up to Him to make the first move.

To Cathy's surprise, Will switched the topic back to local gossip. After a few minutes, she relaxed.

Will guided her gently through the parking lot, stopping to shake hands and exchange hugs with what seemed like half the folks there. Once through the doors, she started toward the church sanctuary, but Will stopped her with a hand on her arm. "No, let's go here first."

She followed him down a hall to an open door marked Pastor's Study. He tapped at the door and then motioned Cathy in.

Looking at Matthew Kennedy standing next to his son, Cathy could imagine what Will would look like someday. Both men stood a shade over six feet and were slim but muscular. The primary difference, aside from the few wrinkles Pastor Kennedy had developed since Cathy last saw him, was that the elder Kennedy's thick head of hair had turned silver-white, while Will's was jet black. Other than that, the men might have been brothers.

The pastor took Cathy's hand in both of his. "It's so good to see you again. I was so sorry about your father and mother. I'd hoped to speak with you after their service but never had the chance." His blue eyes reflected the sincerity behind the words.

"Thank you. That was a tough time. I guess I wanted to put Dainger behind me as quickly as I could after the funeral."

"No matter. You're back now, and we're so glad you're here this morning. I hope you find the service helpful. And Dora and I are thrilled that you and Will are having lunch with us today. Once you've had her fried chicken, you'll never want any of that stuffThe Colonel serves."

Cathy tried not to compare the handful of patients she'd seen this morning to what she'd ordinarily see in the family practice clinic at the medical school on a typical Monday. She guessed some doctors would probably be happy to carry such a light caseload. But those doctors didn't have bills stacking up and the bank breathing down their necks.

Jane looked up as Cathy passed the front desk. "How was your weekend?"

"Not bad."

"Heard you attended First Community Church with Will Kennedy. How did you like the service?"

Cathy shook her head. "Between you and my landlady, is there anything that happens in Dainger that you don't know about?"

Jane shrugged. "How did your lunch with the Kennedys go? What did you think of Dora's fried chicken?"

What was it with the chicken? "Lunch was fine. The chicken was probably the best I've ever tasted, and can we please get on with the day?"

"Sure. Your phone messages are on your desk." Jane paused long enough for Cathy to reach the doorway to her office before asking, "Do you plan to see Will again?"

Cathy ignored the question. She closed the office door firmly, slumped behind the desk, and tried to turn her attention to the three pink message slips.

The first call was from a patient exhibiting typical symptoms of the flu. He wanted to "come by for a shot of penicillin." Cathy finally convinced him to come into the office that morning and let her check him over. She knew that if her phone diagnosis turned out to be correct, antibiotics would have no effect on the disease. However, one of the new antivirals might shorten the course of the illness. She made a mental note to recommend flu vaccine to her patients. The season appeared to be starting early.

The second call came from a mother who was worried about her child's diarrhea. There had been numerous cases of rotavirus in the community, and Cathy figured this was probably another one. However, after giving the mother detailed instructions, she encouraged her to call back if the symptoms continued or worsened. She hated to give phone advice, but the mother convinced her there was no way she could bring the child to the office. Besides, Cathy knew the expense would represent a real hardship for the struggling family.

She made notes on the two pink slips and put them in her out box so Jane could file them in the patient charts. Then she saw the name on the third slip: Will Kennedy. Was this about yesterday?

She'd expected a hard sell from Will's parents. Come back to church. Get right with God. Instead, Pastor and Mrs. Kennedy had seemed genuinely glad to see her, making no mention of the way she'd pulled away from the church. Will had confined his remarks to reminiscences of the good times they'd had in high school. He steered clear of any mention of how they drifted apart after they went offto different colleges. She'd started medical school, he'd begun law school, and their lives had diverged even further.

She should return his call. There was an unfamiliar fluttering in her stomach as she pulled the phone toward her, lifted the receiver, and punched in the number. To her surprise, the next voice she heard was Will's.

"Will Kennedy."

"Will, this is Cathy. I expected to get your secretary."

"This is my private line. I hope you'll write it down and use it in the future. After hours, I forward it to my cell phone. I don't want to miss a call from you. Let's not lose touch again."

She felt the same shiver she'd experienced the first time Will had asked her to a high school dance. No doubt about it. Once he'd recognized her, Will's attention at the crash site went beyond being a Good Samaritan. Maybe he'd gotten over the way she'd hurt him in the past. A part of her was thrilled at the prospect of rekindling their relationship. But then the little voice in her head whispered, You can't trust a man. You can't trust anyone.

Will's voice cut into her thoughts. "Cathy, did you hear me?"

Cathy pulled Will's business card from beneath the edge of her blotter. She turned it over and transcribed the number from the pink slip to the back of the card. "Thanks. I'm writing it down right now."

"Good."

"Now what's up?" Cathy asked.

"First of all, I had a wonderful time with you yesterday. My folks told me to invite you for Sunday lunch anytime you're free."

"I enjoyed it too."

"But let me get to the business at hand. After you were in my office last week, I went down to the bank and talked with Ella Mae. She called me first thing this morning to report. I don't know how she did it, and I wasn't about to ask, but she talked with one of the higher-ups in your insurance company. Apparently, she was pretty convincing. The deal she worked out is that the insurance company and the bank's liability insurer will split the payment for the damages to your car. You'll be getting both checks within a couple of weeks."

"Will, that's wonderful."

"There's more. I'm a full-service attorney, after all."

Cathy struggled to process the news. "You're amazing. What else have you done?"