Chapter 8

By the following Tuesday Angela had forgotten about peeing in the cup for Bob, and was thinking less and less about Dub too. Things seemed to be going very well. Bob was healthy, and her patients presented complaints that she was usually able to do something about.

She finished suturing up the leg of a man who'd been gored by a wild boar, listening to him tell her all about the hunt, and how, when he first saw it he couldn't shoot because his dog was in the way. The boar had ignored the dog and charged straight at the man, who managed to get a shot off just as the boar ripped into his leg. He'd carried the boar out. It was still in the back of his pickup truck, which was parked in the clinic lot. He urged her several times to speed things up because he hadn't dressed the carcass yet and didn't want the meat to taint because of something he called "innard juice." He didn't even limp when she was done, but she knew that was because of the lidocaine she had injected into the site before cleaning it and sewing him up. She warned him it would hurt later and told him to get the prescription for pain killers filled before he went home. He was so intent on getting to his truck that she knew he planned on cleaning the beast that had attacked him ... right there in the parking lot!

"I want to see you in three days!" she called out. He simply waved at her without looking back.

She turned to see Holly standing beside her, looking at the man.

"What's wrong with these people?" Angela asked her.

"Nothing," said Holly. "You should see it. If it's not a prize winner, I'd be surprised. There's a lot of meat on that thing."

"You went and looked at it?" Angela's jaw dropped.

"Me and fifteen other people," said Holly. "He will find that while you were cleaning him up, some friends of his cleaned the boar. It would be a shame to let something like that go to waste."

Angela looked as the man stopped and stared into the back of his truck. He looked around, trying to find who had helped him out, but they were long gone.

"What about the guts?" asked Angela.

"They're still there," said Holly. "He can deal with them now that you sewed him up.

"I'll never understand..." Angela had started to say "you people" but stopped. Instead, she finished "some people."

"What are YOU talking about?" asked Holly. "Dub told me you helped him clean the deer he shot when you went hunting with him."

"Does EVERYBODY know I went hunting with Dub?" asked Angela angrily.

"Probably," said Holly. "What's eating at you?"

"Nothing!" said Angela stiffly. "What's next?"

Holly ignored the doctor's gruff manner. "Speaking of Dub, one of his sisters is here. She's a walk-in. She stepped on a piece of glass and her mother thinks the wound is infected."

When she opened the door of the treatment room, the girl sitting on the table looked to be in her mid teens. She had mousy brown hair and slightly buck teeth. She looked scared.

"Are you the doctor?" she asked timidly.

"I'm Doctor Webber," said Angela. "And who are you?"

"Lula Mae," said the girl softly.

"You're Dub's sister, right?" asked Angela.

The girl nodded. "Are you the one who saw him?"

"Yes," said Angela. She didn't want to talk about Dub. "I hear you injured your foot."

"Yeah. It hurts some." The girl held up a foot that was bandaged with strips of cloth. "Mamma put some medicine on it, but she says it ain't better like it should be."

Angela unwrapped the foot, which was swollen and revealed an ugly purplish wound surrounded by red skin. Her mother had been wise to send her to the doctor.

"It is infected," said Angela. "I need to show this to Doctor Kimble."

"Will I be all right?" the girl asked worriedly.

"You'll be fine," said Angela. "Be right back."

It was Bob's opinion that the wound needed to be opened up, cleaned and disinfected. It would not be sutured, because he suspected it would drain for a few days.

Lula Mae took the news well, once Bob promised she wouldn't feel anything during the procedure. When he gave her the shot that would deaden the area, she let him know in no uncertain terms that he'd lied and that it stung like fire. Then the pain of her wound went away and she calmed down. She'd been walking on that wound for two days, and had been in pretty much constant pain for the same amount of time.

Bob got a scalpel and, while Angela held the foot steady, ran the blade through the original wound. Pus oozed from the slit. He began to widen the incision so he could get to the inner tissue to clean it. He glanced up at the girl's face.

"How's the family?" he asked.

"Pretty good," she said. "That medicine you gave mamma helps her hands not hurt so much."

"Good," he said, as his fingers continued working on her wound without pause.

"Darcey finally admitted she's sweet on Clarence Finney," she said.

Angela's head jerked up. She had treated Clarence Finney for an ear infection while Bob was in the hospital. The man was thirty-five if she remembered correctly.

"She looks a lot like Tanya used to," said Bob calmly. He looked up at Angela. "Tanya was his wife. She died during child birth last year - torn placenta. She went into labor and didn't realize there was a problem, because she just thought her water had broken. By the time I got to her she'd already lost too much blood. I was able to save the baby, but not Tanya."

Lula Mae, apparently thinking to help, took up the story. "Darcy went to help take care of Thomas - that's the baby - while he grieved and buried her and such. She went over there every weekend, claimin' she was just helpin' out an after a while I guess they just got sweet on each other."

"How's your mother feel about that?" asked Bob.

"She ain't none too happy," said Lula Mae. "She's got this idea in her head that one of us girls should go to college, and Darcy's the smartest." She said it with no rancor. It was just a fact, in her mind.

"Well there's always you," said Bob.

"I want to get hitched to Jed when we graduate," she said. "His daddy has a job waitin' for him. If I go off to some college somewhere he ain't gonna wait for me."

"I reckon not," agreed Bob. "What's Dub think about all this?"

"Who knows," she said. "He don't talk no more."

Angela's head came up sharply and she spoke impulsively.

"What? Is something wrong with him?"

"I don't know," said Lula Mae. Are you sure he's cured? Cause I don't think so," she said. "Maybe you didn't give him enough treatments."

Bob glanced up at Angela, one eyebrow raised. She hadn't told him about Mrs. Fisher's ... complaint ... or how it had been handled. Her stomach felt heavy. She felt trapped. She didn't say anything for so long that Bob put himself into the situation.

"What do you mean, Lula Mae?" he asked.

"Well Darcy and me didn't even know anything was wrong with him, until Mamma brought him here. But after that he was a lot nicer to be around. I mean he was happy, and did his chores, and didn't yell at us girls and such."

"And you say Doctor Webber gave him more treatments and it helped?"

"That's what Mamma called them."

"Your mother knew about the ... um treatments?" Angela asked weakly.

Lula Mae looked at Angela. "I guess so. There was a couple of times when Dub wasn't home from work yet and I wanted to know where he was and Mamma said you was prob'ly giving him a treatment, and that he'd be along sooner or later."

Angela's mind whirled. How had the woman known? Bob was looking at her again. She had to get this conversation over with somehow.

"Well, he got better, and didn't need any more treatments," said Angela hopefully.

"Well maybe he got worse again, because now he just mopes around and won't do nothin' unless we yell at him. And he actually yelled back at Mamma t'other night. I swear I thought she'd bust a vessel. He just ain't himself."

"Why hasn't he come back in?" asked Bob. While the conversation played out Bob had cleaned the wound, bathed it with antibiotic ointment, and was bandaging the foot now.

"I think maybe he's scared," said the girl. "Mamma threatened to take him to the doctor again, and he straightened right up. He's still sad, though. I can tell. I think he needs more treatments. He was happier when he was gettin' 'em."

Bob smiled widely. "Well, Doctor Webber and I will have a talk about that, and if we think he needs more ... treatment ... I'll let you know tomorrow when you come back to get that bandage changed."

"I have to come back tomorrow?" she whined. "Are you gonna stick me with that needle again?"

"Not if you do as I tell you to," said Bob. "We're going to change that bandage every day for a spell, and keep an eye on that wound in the process. If it had gone much farther than it did you could have had a big problem."

"It was just a cut," she said sullenly.

"Which reminds me. You need a tetanus shot," he said. He turned to Angela. "Think you can take care of that?"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes," she said softly.

"Now SHE's gonna stick me?" complained Lula Mae.

Bob stood up. "Tell you what, since you had to get stuck twice today, I'll loan you two crutches, and you can take it easy on that foot. It's still going to hurt for a spell."

"Crutches?" The girl's eyes lit up. "Honest? I get to walk with crutches?"

Bob smiled. "For a few days. But I'm taking them back if you're not here tomorrow to get that bandage changed."

"I'll be here!" she said eagerly.

Bob opened the door, but before he left, he looked at Angela again.

"When you're finished here, perhaps you'd consult with me on a patient," he said. "I need to be brought up to speed."

There was no doubt in Angela's mind what patient he was referring to.

Angela put the needle in the sharps box and threw the syringe away. Lula Mae was gone, gleefully hobbling along on crutches, which were apparently a badge of honor to the girl.

She tidied up the desk, which had only a prescription pad on it to begin with, and realized she was trying to delay the inevitable. Holly said Bob was probably finishing up with a patient, and had told her to have Angela wait in his office.

"What'd you do?" asked Holly.

"He found out about Dub," said Angela.

"Well I didn't tell him," said Holly.

"I know. I let things get way out of hand."

"Oh really? I want to hear all about it," said Holly. Angela shot her a venomous look, but before she could say anything Bob ushered an older woman out into the lobby, telling her they'd keep a close eye on her blood sugar, and that he'd know if she cheated on her new diet. The woman didn't look excited about that.

When she was gone Bob turned to her and Holly. "Let's talk about that patient now," he said.

She followed him into his office, a place piled high with books and papers. He never saw patients in the office. He had interviewed her there, though, and whenever they consulted together on a patient, it usually took place in his office. He sat down in the big, brown, leather, high-backed desk chair behind his desk and started going through papers on one side of his desk. Angela sat in the only other chair in the room, which was facing him, on the other side of the desk. Apparently the chair hadn't been moved since she sat in it to be interviewed. She suddenly felt just like she had back then ... nervous ... afraid he wouldn't be impressed with her.

He said "Aha!" and pulled a piece of paper out of the pile he was searching. Instead of saying anything he simply handed it to her.

She looked at it. It was a lab report for a patient named Sally McGrudder. The report said Sally was pregnant.

She looked up. "I thought you were going to talk about..."

He had gone back to looking through papers, but stopped and looked at her. "About who?"

"Never mind," she said. "Who is Sally McGrudder?"

"One of my more foolish patients," he said. "She didn't take precautions, and doesn't know she's pregnant, and I'm trying to figure out how to break it to her."

"You want my opinion on that?" Angela was confused. He had to have faced this situation before.

"You're a woman," he said easily. "You're not planning on having children soon, right?"

"Of course not," she said, "but I don't see what -"

He cut her off. "So you're in a much better position to imagine how she'd feel about it than I am. If it were you, how would you want me to break it to you?"

Angela, having expected something else, felt a little frustrated. How hard could it be to tell a woman she was pregnant? "I'd just want you to tell me," she said.

He smiled. "Okay. Angela ... you're pregnant."

He didn't say anything else, but just stared at her.

"Well," she said, not understanding. "Maybe not quite that brusquely," she said.

"Oh," he said. "How about this? Angela, remember that urine sample I asked you for a couple of weeks ago? Well, I had it analyzed and it confirms that you are pregnant."

"That's better," she said and then froze as it hit her. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Pregnant?" she whispered.

"Pregnant." he said firmly.

"I can't be pregnant," she gasped.

"That's what about half of them say," said Bob. "They're all wrong, by the way."

"But we only did it once!" she whined.

"Remember the half I just mentioned?" asked Bob calmly. "About half of those say that too."

"Bob ... no!" she pled.

"You wanted it straight," he said. "I gave it to you straight."

She sat there, staring into nothingness. He let her. His previous shuffling of papers had simply been a nervous reaction to waiting for HER reaction. Now he sat quietly, letting her adjust to the new information.

"What do I do now?" she finally asked.

He was prepared for that question, because a lot of women asked it. He ignored the fact she was a doctor herself. She wasn't thinking like a doctor. She was thinking like a single woman who had been told she is unexpectedly pregnant.

"Well, if you're going to let nature take its course, we need to get a blood sample so we can check your iron levels, and a few other things. I'll get you started on vitamins, and give you some counseling on how to have as good a gestation as possible. If you decide to have it, but don't want to keep it, I'll refer you to Betinna Shaw over at Planned Parenthood. She has contacts in the adoption field. And, if you don't want to carry it at all, we need to set a date for the procedure, and Betinna will set you up for counseling about that.

"No. Not that." said Angela without really thinking about it. She looked up with a strange look on her face. "You'd do that?"

"The procedure?" he asked. Then he nodded. "I don't advertise it, but if they go through the mill with Betinna then I do it. The way I see it, if they are willing to do that, they wouldn't make good mothers anyway, even during the pregnancy."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me," said Angela.

"It never came up before," he said, shrugging. "It will some day, and now we've talked about it. You'll have to make up your mind about it sooner or later, just like I did."

"I don't know what I'll decide then, but I know that's not right for me now," she said.

"Good."

"This is NOT good!" she said, her voice rising.

"You have no idea what this is yet," said Bob sternly. "This is much too new for you to be making up your mind now. You've got nine months to think about things, and you're GOING to think about things whether you want to or not. It's just the nature of the beast."

"She's not a beast," said Angela impulsively.

"She?"

"I don't want to talk about this," she said, pouting.

"Then don't," he said. "That's fine with me. You obviously didn't want to talk about it before it happened, and you're free, white and over eighteen, so it's really none of my business, other than the fact that, in the future, I obviously need to be the one to tend to any of Dub's medical needs.

"That's what Ezra said," said Angela, her voice dreamy.

"What? Ezra?"

"He caught us one day while I was..." She came alert. "Never mind that. He found out about what Dub and I were doing, and he said it was none of his business and that we were both free, white and over eighteen."

"It's just a saying," said Bob. "All it means is that, legally, you're an adult."