Robin Cook - Fever

Cathryn leaned her back up against the counter, her hands gripping the Formica edge. “Charles,” she began in a quiet tone. “You cannot stop Michelle’s medicine.”

Charles found his keys. “Of course I can,” he said confidently.

“Arrangements have been made so that you cannot,” said Cathryn.

With his hand on the back door, Charles paused. The word “arrangements” had an ominous connotation. “What are you trying to say?”

“I want you to come back, take your coat off, and sit down,” said Cathryn, as if she were talking to a recalcitrant teenager.

Charles walked directly up to her. “I think you’d better tell me about these arrangements.”

Although Cathryn never would have imagined it possible, she felt a touch of fear as she gazed up into Charles’s narrowed eyes. “After you left the hospital so hastily this afternoon, I had a conference with Dr. Keitzman and Dr. Wiley. They felt that you were under a severe strain and might not be in the best position to make the right decisions about Michelle’s care.” Cathryn deliberately tried to echo the legal talk she’d heard at the meeting. What terrified her most was Charles’s reaction to her complicity. She wanted to emphasize that she had been a reluctant participant. She looked up into his face. His blue eyes were cold. “The hospital lawyer said that Michelle needed a temporary guardian and the doctors agreed. They told me they could do it without my cooperation but that it would be easier if I helped. I thought I was doing the right thing although it was a hard decision. I felt one of us should still be involved.”

“So what happened?” said Charles, his face becoming a dull red.

“There was an emergency hearing before a judge,” said Cathryn. She was telling it poorly and at a bad time. She was making a mess of everything. Doggedly she continued, “The judge agreed that Michelle should get the recognized treatment for her condition as outlined by Dr. Keitzman. I was appointed temporary guardian. There will be a hearing on this petition in three days and a full hearing in three weeks. The court also appointed a guardian and listen, Charles, believe me, I’ve done all this for Michelle. I’m not doing anything against you or to come between you and Michelle.”

Cathryn searched Charles’s face for a flicker of understanding. She saw only rage.

“Charles!” cried Cathryn. “Please believe me. The doctor convinced me you’ve been under great strain. You haven’t been yourself. Look at you! Dr. Keitzman is world-famous for treating childhood leukemias. I did it only for Michelle. It’s only temporary. Please.” Cathryn broke into tears.

Gina appeared instantly at the doorway. “Is everything all right?” she called out timidly.

Charles spoke very slowly, his eyes on Cathryn’s face. “I hope to God this isn’t true. I hope you’re making this up.”

“It’s true,” managed Cathryn. “It’s true. You left. I did the best I could. You’ll be served with a citation in the morning.”

Charles exploded with a violence he’d never known he’d possessed. The only handy object was a short stack of dishes. Snatching them off the counter he lifted them over his head and crashed them to the floor in a fearful splintering of china. “I can’t stand this. Everybody is against me. Everybody!”

Cathryn cringed by the sink, afraid to move. Gina was riveted to the doorway, wanting to flee but fearful for her daughter’s safety.

“Michelle is my daughter, my flesh and blood,” raged Charles. “No one is going to take her away from me.”

“She’s my adopted daughter,” sobbed Cathryn. “I feel just as strongly as you.” Overcoming her fear, she grabbed the lapels of Charles’s coat, shaking him as best she could. “Please calm down. Please,” she cried desperately.

The last thing Charles wanted was to be held down. By reflex his arm shot up and with unnecessary force, knocked Cathryn’s arms into the air. Following through with the blow, the side of his hand inadvertently caught her face, knocking her backwards against the kitchen table.

A chair fell over and Gina screamed, running into the room and positioning her corpulent bulk between Charles and her dazed daughter. She began reciting a prayer as she crossed herself.

Charles reached out and rudely shoved the woman aside. He grabbed Cathryn by both shoulders and shook her like a rag doll. “I want you to call and cancel those legal proceedings. Do you understand?”

Chuck heard the commotion and ran down the stairs. He took one look at the scene in front of him and sprang into the room, grabbing his father from behind, and pinning his arms to his side. Charles tried to twist loose but he couldn’t. Instead he released Cathryn, and lunged back with the point of his elbow, digging it into the pit of Chuck’s abdomen. The boy’s breath came out in a forceful huff. Charles spun, then shoved Chuck backwards so that he tripped, fell, and hit his head on the floor.

Cathryn screamed. The crisis was expanding in a chain reaction. She threw herself on top of Chuck to protect him from his father and it was at this point Charles realized that he was attacking his own son.

He took a step forward but Cathryn screamed again, shielding the crumpled boy. Gina stepped between Charles and the others murmuring something about the devil.

Charles looked up to see the confused face of Jean Paul in the doorway. The boy backed away when he saw Charles staring at him. Looking back at the others, Charles felt an overwhelming sense of alienation. Impulsively he turned and stormed out of the house.

Gina closed the back door behind him, while Cathryn helped Chuck into one of the kitchen chairs. They heard the Pinto rumble down the driveway.

“I hate him! I hate him!” cried Chuck, holding his stomach with both hands.

“No, no,” soothed Cathryn. “This is all a nightmare. We’ll all wake up and it will be over.”

“Your eye!” exclaimed Gina, coming up to Cathryn and tilting her head back.

“It’s nothing,” said Cathryn.

“Nothing? It’s becoming black and blue. I think you’d better get some ice on it.”

Cathryn got up and looked at herself in a small mirror hanging in the hallway. There was a minute cut on her right eyebrow and she was indeed getting a black eye. By the time she got back into the kitchen, Gina had the ice tray out.

Jean Paul reappeared at the doorway.

“If he ever hits you again, I’ll kill him,” said Chuck.

“Charles Jr.,” snapped Cathryn. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. Charles is not himself; he’s under a lot of strain. Besides, he didn’t mean to hit me. He was trying to get free from my grasp.”

“I think he’s let in the devil,” said Gina.

“That’s enough, all of you,” said Cathryn.

“I think he’s crazy,” persisted Chuck.

Cathryn took a breath in preparation for reprimanding Chuck but she hesitated because the boy’s comment made her wonder if Charles was having a nervous breakdown. The doctors suggested it as a possibility and they had been right about everything else. Cathryn wondered where she was going to find the reserve to hold the family together.

Her first concern was safety. Cathryn had never seen Charles lose control before. Thinking it best to get some professional advice, she called Dr. Keitzman’s exchange.

Keitzman called back five minutes later.

She told him the entire series of events, including the fact that Charles had decided to stop Michelle’s medications and added that Charles had left in his car, presumably en route to the hospital.

“Sounds like we petitioned for custody at the right time,” said Dr. Keitzman.

Cathryn was in no mood for self-congratulation. “That may be, but I’m concerned about Charles. I don’t know what to expect.”