Richard Mabry - Code Blue

She gritted her teeth against the pain that bored into the back of her head when she turned to look around her. A fire engine idled at the curb, its red and white strobes alternately painting the leaves of a nearby live oak. Two firemen coiled and stowed lengths of hose that looked like huge, puttycolored snakes. In addition to the Elams, she recognized several neighbors.

Cathy turned with dread toward the little garage apartment that had been her home the past two months. She expected to see nothing but a mound of rubble and ashes. Instead, although the steps were badly charred and one side of the garage and her apartment above it were covered with smoke and soot, the framework seemed intact. The garage door stood open, and the Elam's car sat in the driveway. Shadows obscured the interior of the garage, but she could make out puddles of water on the floor.

"What happened?" Cathy asked.

Bess Elam answered. "I was in the kitchen for a snack when I saw somebody moving around over here near the foot of the stairs. I knew you were in for the night, so I was suspicious. Then I saw a flicker- like a match or a lighter- and then some flames. I yelled to Joe and he called 911. By the time we got outside, whoever I'd seen was gone and the corner of the garage was on fire."

Cathy rubbed the back of her head. "I remember an explosion. Did your car blow up?"

"We were afraid the car's gas tank would go, so I had Joe run in and back it out. I started uncoiling our garden hose to fight the fire when, I guess, the fire reached some cans of paint we had stored in the garage. Anyway, they exploded. As best we can figure, the force of that blast rocked the floor of your apartment, making you fall back and hit your head. The firemen were here by then. One of them fought his way up the stairs through the flames and carried you down here. End of story."

Cathy knew better. She was pretty sure that this wasn't the end of the story. It was just another chapter. And she hoped it didn't get any worse before she could bring it to an end.

Since the fire chief pronounced the stairway to her apartment unsafe, Joe Elam used a tall ladder to climb up and pack a suitcase with Cathy's list of things she needed for the next day or so. Cathy stood at the foot of the ruined stairway and wondered what else could possibly happen? If this was an attempt to kill her, how much worse could it get? The obvious answer was that they could succeed.

Cathy spent the rest of the night curled up on the Elam's couch, waking at every sound. The next morning, she stepped out of the front door, thankful that her car had been parked at the curb, safely out of danger. She paused at the end of the sidewalk, her keys in hand, and took stock of her situation. The smell of smoke permeated the blouse, slacks, and jacket she wore. Nothing she could do about that today, but as soon as she could, she needed to have all her clothes cleaned. Would insurance pay for that? She made a mental note to call her agent when she got to the office. More paperwork, more hassles, more problems.

Before Cathy could open the door of her car, Will Kennedy's pickup screeched to a stop behind her and he jumped out. He covered the ground between them in a few quick strides, and the hug he gave her threatened to crack her ribs. "Cathy, are you all right? I just heard this morning about the fire."

"I'm okay, I guess. Just a few bumps and bruises." She went on to explain what had happened. "The Fire Chief agrees with the Elams that the fire was deliberately set. He thinks someone soaked the corner of the garage and the stairs leading to my apartment with gasoline, then lit it and ran. I'm lucky Bess saw him and got help as quickly as she did."

"Do you plan to stay with the Elams for now?"

She'd wrestled with that one all night. "Joe and Bess made that offer, but their house is so small we'd be tripping over each other. Besides, it will be at least a couple of days before my back unkinks from one night on their couch. I don't know if insurance will cover the cost of a hotel."

"I have a better idea. Why don't you move in with my folks? They have a spare bedroom-my old room, matter of fact-and I know they'd love to have you."

The idea of staying with Pastor and Mrs. Kennedy appealed to her. Truthfully, Cathy had been deeply touched by their kindness. It was like having a family again. On the other hand, she wondered if by moving in she'd open herself up to a "hard sell" about coming back to the church.

It was as though Will read her mind. "In case you're wondering, Dad and Mom won't pressure you about where you are with God. They'll pray for you, that's all. Right now we all want you to be comfortable

… and safe."

Cathy looked at her watch. "Will, I need to talk with you about something I learned yesterday, but right now I have to get to the office. I have patients to see right up to the close of the day, which, considering the shape of my bank account, is a good thing. But having all this to deal with will keep me tied up all day. I hoped we could get together this evening."She looked toward the smoke-stained walls of her little apartment where Joe and two of his friends were already at work building a new stairway. "I can't cook for you, but can we still have dinner?"

"I've got a suggestion. I'll pick you up at your office about-what? Five thirty?"

"Make it six."

"Okay, I'll come by at six. We'll go to my parents' house for dinner. Then we can talk in Dad's study. If you agree to stay with them, I can come back here for your stuff. Deal?"

Cathy wanted so badly to give up control and let someone else take over her complicated life. So far, Will hadn't disappointed her. She hoped that wouldn't change. With more conviction in her voice than in her heart, she said, "Deal."

Cathy opened the back door of her office suite to find Jane waiting for her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Jane. Mainly I have a little headache, and I smell like the inside of a wood stove. Other than that, nothing that a good night's sleep won't fix."

"Do you want me to cancel some of today's appointments?"

"No need. I'm fine." And besides that, if my practice grows a bit, maybe I can start drawing a full salary. "Give me ten minutes in my office. Then I'll be ready to go."

Cathy had been pinching pennies when she moved to Dainger. Now she was glad she'd let her insurance agent talk her into the added expense of renter's insurance. Her call to him took a bit longer than ten minutes, and Cathy sensed that he wondered whether her business was worth all the trouble she had caused him, but when she hung up she'd extracted a promise to have an adjustor contact her within twenty-four hours. The Elam's insurance would cover the damage to their garage and her apartment, but she would be looking to her own insurance for expenses like cleaning, and replacing personal effects. Idly, she wondered about the effect of the heat and smoke on her laptop, her small collection of CDs, her little portable TV.

Cathy emerged from her office and found Jane waiting in the hall. "Mr. Greiner is in treatment room one. He has a wart on his thumb."

There was no doubt in Cathy's mind that Jane's diagnosis would be correct. In all her years as an office nurse, Jane had probably seen ten times as many cases of verruca vulgaris, or common wart, as Cathy had treated in her brief exposure to dermatology.

Cathy put down the magnifying glass she'd used to examine the skin lesion. "Mr. Greiner, I can refer you to a dermatologist who can freeze that with liquid nitrogen. Or, if you want me to, I can use my Hyfrecator. The end result is the same. Your choice."

"What's the difference?"

"A dermatologist would probably use a spray of liquid nitrogen to freeze that wart. You'll get a little blister in the area. When that comes off, the skin underneath it is pink and tender. But pretty soon it will look and feel completely normal."