Hannah Alexander - Sacred Trust

“Are you sleeping at night?”

“Not well.”

“You need more help. This is too much of a strain on you. Would you consider counseling?”

She pulled a single tissue from the box and dabbed at her face. She took another tissue and blew her nose. “I don’t have the money.”

“There are local agencies that can help. We can make some calls for—”

“No.”

He sighed in frustration. “Darlene, sometimes we all have to ask for help. That’s why those agencies are set up, for people like you, who are really struggling, trying to make an honest living for yourself and your brother. There is no shame in—”

She burst into tears. “Please let me go home, Dr. Bower. I can’t ask those people for help. Clarence and I were second-generation welfare kids. We grew up on handouts. We swore together when we left that mess that we would die before we asked for help again. We meant it.”

Lukas bit his tongue. Clarence might indeed die. Darlene obviously knew that.

He gave her a spare inhaler, some antibiotic samples, and a theophylline tablet, then gave her a script for that, and for Vistaril to help her sleep.

“These are fairly inexpensive,” he told her as he handed them to her. “Take them. You really need them. Remember that you’re not going to be able to care for Clarence if you end up back here.”

She stared at the bounty he had given her, then looked up at him. “You mean you’re letting me go home?”

“Against my better judgment. I wish I could do more to help you. If you need someone to talk to, call me.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, he saw her smile. She reached out and grabbed his right hand with both of hers. “Oh, thank you, Doctor. Thank you.”

D ad backed the red BMW out of the drive, with Tedi safely buckled in, just like on any other school day. This day, however, Tedi was getting out of classes. For the first time in her life she would rather be going to school.

Granny Jane had been sick almost for as long as Tedi could remember, and Tedi had felt so bad for her. It hurt to watch someone suffering the way Granny Jane had suffered, and Tedi knew it had been really hard on Mom and Grandma Ivy. That’s why she had to go to this funeral. She wanted to be there for them.

“I’ll drop you off in front of the church,” Dad said as he turned onto the highway from their street.

“Fine.” Tedi didn’t look at him, but she felt him looking at her. Last night she’d hid out in her bedroom when he came home, and he hadn’t bothered her.

This morning Dad had fixed her favorite breakfast: French toast and fruit, with powdered sugar and hot maple syrup. Dad could cook when he wanted to, and this morning he’d done almost as good a job as Grandma Ivy. Almost.

“How about a trip into Springfield this weekend?” he asked. “We can go to the mall and get some summer clothes, then catch a movie, maybe do the zoo while we’re there. They’ve got a new baby elephant.”

Tedi didn’t stir from her inspection of the roadside scenery. “You go ahead, Dad. Maybe Julie would like to go.”

“Julie doesn’t like elephants. You and I do.”

Tedi shrugged. “I’m not in the mood.”

Dad sighed. He slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. He turned on the flashers, then turned in his seat to face Tedi.

“Aren’t you even going to let me try to make up for yesterday? I should never have scared you like that.”

“You were drinking.” She watched a robin hopping along the wire fence beside the road.

“That’s no excuse.”

Tedi turned to look at him then and almost gave in at the pleading look in his eyes, the sorrowful expression on his face. But she knew that could all change in a second. She was tired of it. “I’m not excusing you, Dad. I’m telling you that your drinking scares me. I’m still scared. I don’t know when it’s going to happen again. I never know. That was a good breakfast this morning, and Springfield could be fun, but nothing makes up for being scared of my own father. You get mad too easy when you’re drinking.”

His intent blue eyes held hers for a moment. “What’ll make it up to you? How about I lay off the booze for a while?”

She bit her lip and took a deep, long breath. Here it comes. “How about I go live with Mom until you’re off the booze?” She continued to hold his gaze so he’d know she meant it.

He looked away first, but not before she saw a flash of anger in his expression. Big surprise. She braced herself for another temper tantrum.

“She doesn’t want you,” he said quietly.

Tedi caught her breath. She hadn’t been braced for that. “Why not?”

He didn’t look back at her. “She’s too busy with her job.” His voice was bitter. “Got to make the almighty buck. You’ll just slow her down.” He turned off the flashers and signaled to pull back onto the highway.

“You’re lying! If I ask her to, she’ll take you back to court for custody.”

A break came in the traffic, but Dad didn’t take it. His face lost color until it nearly matched the shade of his short, light blond hair. “She’ll be sorry if she does.” He looked down at Tedi with narrowed eyes. “Don’t forget why I have custody in the first place—mental patients don’t make good parents.”

Tedi almost said, “Neither do drunks,” but she remembered yesterday.

“And public opinion matters here in Knolls,” he continued. “She’s spent these past five years trying to rebuild her practice after the last custody battle. She won’t thank you if she loses it all again.” He pulled out onto the road at last.

Tedi said nothing more until they reached Grandma Ivy’s church—Covenant Baptist—at the edge of Knolls. Grandma and Mom stood outside the building waiting for her. She waved at them, then released her seat belt and opened the door.

Someday she would learn to shut her mouth and keep it shut, but not today. Today she was mad.

“You know, Dad,” she said as she stepped from the car, “if Mom lost her job, we’d all be in big trouble.” She slammed the car door as hard as she could and turned toward the church.

Seconds later, Dad gunned the motor. The tires spun on blacktop.

Tedi waved at her mother and grandmother and wished her father would drive out of her life forever.

Lukas Bower hated the term “backseat Baptist.” It implied a person one step away from backsliding. Although Lukas always preferred to sit at the periphery of the congregation, he by no means felt himself to be at the spiritual edge of God’s family. Just because he was shy did not mean he was not a sincere Christian.

On the other hand, he knew he had a lot of growing to do before he was a mature Christian.

It was a moot point in this church today, since this was not a worship service.

The first strains of soft organ music reminded him of the circumstances leading up to today’s funeral, and he had the typical critique session with himself. He could have shown more compassion to Ivy Richmond during Mrs. Conn’s final hour. He could have tried harder to reassure Mrs. Conn during those short moments of lucidity—if indeed she had truly been lucid.

He could not, however, have been more aggressive with the code. Ivy Richmond probably disagreed, but he could do nothing about her sentiments, much as he would like to. She obviously possessed a great deal of power at the hospital, and he didn’t have enough insight into her character to know how she might play that power. She was strong willed, much like another, younger woman with power whose influence had affected his career with devastating ease. Best not to allow his thoughts to wander in that direction.

Lukas couldn’t decide whether to approach the Richmond ladies with his condolences after the service or to leave them in peace today. The latter course looked more favorable as more and more people filled the auditorium, and the old, familiar prickling of self-consciousness made him wonder why he had even bothered to come. No one would have expected him to. He’d lost other elderly patients and hadn’t felt it necessary to see them off. Doctors didn’t do this kind of thing, especially not for someone they didn’t even know.