Kate Wilhelm - Clear And Convincing Proof

“The court will not agree to such a change when one board member is incompetent and another, with majority shares, is opposed,” he said, opening an envelope. “That isn’t how the system works. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”

“You could have a surgical clinic somewhere else,” she said. “You could build it to suit yourself, do it that way.” He didn’t ask her how she had learned about the surgical clinic. He had not told her, and he didn’t care who had any more than he cared what she thought about it. He never asked her anything.

“I already have a facility.” He threw the mail down on the coffee table. “My father built it with every intention of leaving it to me, and I intend to use it. I played second fiddle to that clinic all my life, and now I’m moving into the first fiddler’s chair. Period.”

For a moment his face was transformed by fury like that of a thwarted child, or a wronged youth, neglected and vengeful. The expression was fleeting, and once again his expression became as unreadable as that of a Greek statue. “Annette, listen carefully because I won’t repeat this. Greg and Naomi will be out of there in three months, and Darren sooner than that. How they leave is still open. With the unanimous highest recommendations of the board of governors, or with a serious reservation included in a report by a major shareholder? Greg is incompetent, and Naomi has no training in bookkeeping or anything else as far as I can tell. And Darren has a criminal record. He’s an ex-con, a drug addict who, I am afraid, has reverted to his old habit.”

She stared at him, then started to walk across the room, toward the hall and the foyer.

“Where are you going? Dinner is just about ready.”

“I don’t know where I’m going. Out.”

Annie had been driving aimlessly for hours when she pulled in and stopped at the parking lot of the clinic, although she had no intention of running to Naomi and Greg, or of entering the building. The rain was so hard that the windshield wipers had not been able to keep the glass clear enough to continue driving.

When the rain eased, and it probably would in another hour or two, fog would form, she thought. The earth, buildings, pavement, trees, all still warm from summer’s heat, chilled by the first real rain of the season brought dense fogs here in the valley. She was thinking again of her father’s milk cows, placidly grazing as water crept up into the lower pasture, until Molly Bee, the matriarch of the herd, started to move in a leisurely way toward higher ground, and all the others left off cropping grass to follow her. “Who elected her queen of the cattle?” Annie had asked her father a very long time ago, almost too distant a time to recall. “I think she’s self-appointed,” her father had said. “But no one questions her authority.”

She would give the shares to someone else, she thought suddenly, and shook her head even as the thought formed. David never made idle threats. He would smear Darren, Greg and Naomi, and in the end he would still have the clinic. She didn’t doubt that for a second. He would have the clinic. Her cell phone rang and she ignored it just as she had before. It would be David ordering her to come back home. Even if she gave the shares to Naomi and Greg, it wouldn’t stop David….

They both knew what was happening. If they couldn’t save the clinic, they could protect themselves one way or another, or retire. Greg was old enough to retire, or go to a small town and practice medicine.

Then she thought, what if Darren leaves first? She knew he had been offered a position in one of the biggest rehabilitation centers in Los Angeles. Or he could go to Seattle. Or Portland. He could go almost anywhere, make better money, still do the work he loved and had been born to do…. If he handed in his resignation now, he would leave with excellent references, no smear, no blot on his record.

She didn’t know whether he would accept that idea, and chances were good that he wouldn’t, but he had to have the choice. He had to know what was going on. Leave now, or stay and be forced out later, and possibly be destroyed professionally…He had to know. She called his number on her cell phone.

When Darren agreed to meet her, she quickly said, “No. I’ll come to your place. Where do you live now?”

The storm had made Erica restless, unable to concentrate on a book, or the television, or anything else. What if the shingles blew off, or the new roof leaked, or a tree blew down? She heard the car in the driveway and went to a front window to see who was coming this late. She knew that Darren was home. She always knew if he was in the apartment. When she saw Annie leave the car, look at the house uncertainly, then go around to the outside stairs, she burned with resentment, with an ache that started some place she had no name for.

“We have the next board meeting on Thursday,” Annie said. “I’ll try to stall, but I’ll probably have to vote. Think about it, Darren. He’s going to win, one way or the other. He will. He always does. He’s…he’s like the storm, unstoppable until he gets his way.”

“We’ll find something to do,” Darren said. “Greg, Dr. Kelso, I…we’re pretty formidable, too, you know. We’ll think of something.”

“Is it true, what he said? Drugs, prison?”

“It’s true. One day, over a double chocolate malted milk, I’ll tell you about it. Now you go on home. And thanks, Annie.”

“Oh, God! I haven’t had a chocolate malted milk in years. Not since…”

Erica was in the kitchen when she heard the car leave. Darren was pacing back and forth, back and forth. Neither of them slept much that night. Darren paced and Erica listened to his footsteps while the rain beat on the house.

David was in bed when Annie got home a little after ten-thirty. David always went to bed at ten-thirty.

The low pressure front came in waves. The rain eased, fog formed and was very heavy in the morning. Then the sun came out and burned away the fog and brought up steam from roofs and pavement. A few hours later a new wave of rain rolled in and the sequence began again. Annie loved it. The front carried the smell of the ocean inland.

At lunch on Monday Annie toyed with her salad. David ate his with a good appetite. Neither of them had mentioned again the discussion about her vote. He had said, “Period.” That meant no more discussion, no compromise; the matter was settled.

David was saying, “I need those studies before two o’clock tomorrow. You’ll have to leave as soon as you drop me at Greg’s house in the morning. I’ll have Naomi take me to the hospital.”

She nodded. It often happened that patients from an outlying area, Pleasant Hill, or Cottage Grove, someplace closer to Eugene than to Portland, were sent to the University Hospital in Portland for a diagnosis. If surgery was decided upon, they frequently opted to have it done in Eugene, where it was less of a burden on family members and patients alike. It also often happened that the Portland hospital failed to send the required lab results or X-ray studies to the doctor in Eugene. Several times each year Annie drove to Portland herself to collect them.

“It’s going to be foggy again, and probably raining,” David said. “We’ll get an early start. I’ll sign Dwyer out at seven-thirty.”

He had to see his patient at the clinic, sign him out, leave follow-up orders with the nurse and then be at the hospital to make his own rounds by eight.

Annie nodded again. She was looking forward to the drive to Portland; she needed time alone to think. She felt as if her brain had been on strike for days, and no matter how resolutely she started, she kept stopping in frustration, unable to reach any decision.