Richard Mabry - Code Blue

"I'm happy for you. When my wife died, I didn't think I'd ever want to be with anyone else again. Although time dulls the pain, it doesn't take away the loneliness. I guess I thought you might be the answer."

"God has someone out there for you, I'm sure. It just isn't me." Cathy's words shocked her. She had no idea where they had come from. She hadn't said anything like that since God killed her parents.

But now she knew that God hadn't killed them. A senseless combination of speed and a rain-slick road had caused the accident. And maybe God had given her Will to take away her own loneliness.

Late Monday afternoon, Cathy looked over Jane's shoulders and read the numbers on the bank deposit-a few checks from patients, but no large insurance payments. She would need to call Will tonight and give him the bad news: no way could she come up with the five thousand dollars plus more than fourteen hundred dollars in interest that the bank had demanded. She could only hope Nix would change his mind, but that seemed unlikely.

Before sinking into her chair, Cathy shed her white coat and tossed it into the hamper. She tipped her chair forward and reached toward the bottom desk drawer to retrieve her purse when she saw the envelope centered on her blotter- a plain white envelope, no return address, postmarked last Thursday. A Post-it note stuck to the front that read "Elams brought this by" obscured the address. She removed the yellow sticky and noticed the envelope was addressed to her apartment.

The only mail she ever got at that address consisted of circulars, catalogs, and junk pieces addressed to "Occupant." All her bills and important correspondence came to the office.

Quickly, she slit the envelope open and pulled out a computer-generated letter on a single sheet of white paper. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the signature-Ella Mae Mercer. The missing suicide note.

Dear Cathy,

Forgive the familiarity. I know so much about you from my relationship with your father. When you read this I'll be dead. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it happens to be true. I'm guilty of a terrible wrong, and I need to put it right before I die. Then when I stand before my Maker perhaps He won't judge me too harshly.

Cathy looked away, steeling her emotions. Here it comes- her confession that she had an affair with my father. Ella Mae felt so guilty that he prescribed a tranquilizer for her. Or maybe he broke it off, and she needed the medicine to get through that time.

Years ago, I forged your father's signature to a check to pay for my mother's burial. The cost of care during her last days took every cent I had. I'd hoped to cover the shortage before your father found out, but I couldn't. He came to the bank to ask about it. It didn't take long before I broke down and confessed, begging him not to press charges. Instead, he pulled his checkbook from his coat pocket, turned to the check register, and wrote in the amount of the check I'd forged. Then he looked at me with nothing but pity in those gray eyes of his. "It's over. Now I'll pray for you."

I know he needed the money himself, because I saw his account records and knew how much he spent every month for your mother's care. But he never said another word about it. That's when he wrote me a prescription to help me through my depression.

My crime has eaten at me all these years. I thought I could ease my conscience by helping you out with the insurance company, but it wasn't enough. That's when I decided I had to make amends before I die.

I hope that, like your father, you'll pray for me.

Ella Mae Mercer

Could it be true that she had misjudged her father so badly? He didn't have an affair with Ella Mae. He'd helped out the poor woman. And he'd probably talked with his pastor and asked him to pray for Ella Mae as he had promised.

What about the difficult times her parents had gone through? Cathy could picture her father and Matthew Kennedy kneeling in the pastor's study, asking God for help in keeping that marriage together. Pastors keep a lot of secrets-so do doctors-but Cathy knew that husbands had no secrets from their wives. That must be the reason Dora could say with such certainty that Nolan Sewell had been faithful to his wife.

"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I thought those horrible things about you. I'm sorry I let this come between us."

When she folded the letter to replace it in the envelope, her fingers touched something else. She pulled out a stiff piece of paper just small enough to fit into the envelope. A note was clipped to it: "Principal and interest for my loan from your father. Paid in full."

She removed the note and looked at the cashier's check for six thousand, five hundred dollars. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and whispered, "And here's the manna!" She could hardly choke out her next words. "Thank you, God."

Cathy looked down at the woman lying stock-still in the ICU bed. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Ella Mae's only response was a slight shift of the head, turning her face toward the wall.

"I asked them to offer you a liquid diet. Did you drink anything?"

A nod of yes this time. Good.

"I got the letter… and the check."

Now Ella Mae turned her head toward Cathy. Her eyes were empty. There was the faintest movement of her lips, and then she compressed them tightly together.

"I appreciate that you tried to make amends, but I don't think attempting suicide was such a good idea. Not for you. Not for anybody."

"Sorry." The words came out as a croak.

"Did you talk with the psychiatrist when he came by yesterday?" Cathy had read the consultation note, but she wanted to hear Ella Mae's version.

Ella Mae shook her head. "No need. It's all in the letter."

"No, the letter unlocks a lot of mysteries for me, but you've got some work to do to get yourself straightened out." Cathy pulled a chair to the bedside and sat. "If I let you out of the hospital, will you promise not to try to kill yourself again?"

A nod.

"I hope you realize I can't give you any more tranquilizers right now. Can you do without them?"

"I'll try my best," Ella Mae whispered.

"And if I discharge you, what will you do?"

"I guess I'll go back to work."

"Some of the people there probably know about what you did. Can you handle that?"

Ella Mae nodded weakly. "It's no secret I've been under stress. That's what my job is all about. I can handle that." She fluttered a hand on top of the blanket. "But no one knows about the money I took."

"And I won't tell them, either," Cathy said. "But you need some help getting your head together. Will you see a psychiatrist if I refer you to someone? How did you like the doctor who visited with you yesterday?"

Ella Mae pointed to the carafe of water on her bedside table. Cathy poured a glass and handed it to her. Ella Mae finished the water and handed the glass back. "I didn't like him. He made me feel… small. Like, by attempting suicide, I'd forfeited the right to be human."

"Would you drive to Fort Worth to see a psychiatrist? Someone I can recommend from personal experience?"

Cathy could tell she had surprised Ella Mae. Most people thought doctors led a perfect life.

"Would you?" Cathy asked again.

Ella Mae managed a weak smile. "If you give him your personal seal of approval, that's good enough for me."

Despite Will's desire to accompany her to the bank, Cathy insisted on going alone, especially since she no longer needed to negotiate with Milton Nix. She promised Will she'd bring him up to date that evening while they worked on her case.

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Nix, please," Cathy told the teller.

Apparently, the bank employees-along with everyone else in Dainger-knew about the malpractice suit. The woman stammered, "Do you think…? I mean… can someone else help you?"